Loretto.
Pilgrimages to Loretto are not so frequent with foreigners, or with
Italians of fortune and distinction, as formerly, nineteen out of twenty
of those, who make this journey now, are poor people, who depend for
their maintenance on the charity they receive on the road. To those who
are of such a rank in life as precludes them from availing themselves
of the charitable institutions for the maintenance of pilgrims, such
journies are attended with expence and inconveniency; and I am informed,
that fathers and husbands, in moderate or confined circumstances, are
frequently brought to disagreeable dilemmas, by the rash vows of going
to Loretto, which their wives or daughters are apt to make on any
supposed deliverance from danger. To refuse, is considered, by the whole
neighbourhood, as cruel, and even impious; and to grant, is often highly
distressing, particularly to such husbands as, from affection, or any
other motive, do not choose that their wives should be long out of their
sight. But the poor, who are maintained during their whole journey, and
have nothing more than a bare maintenance to expect from their labour at
home, to them a journey to Loretto is a party of pleasure, as well as
devotion, and by much the most agreeable road they can take to heaven.
This being a year of jubilee, there is a far greater concourse of
pilgrims of all ranks here, at present, than is usual. We have seen a few
in their carriages, a greater number on horseback, or on mules; or, what
is still more common, on asses. Great numbers of females come in this
manner, with a male friend walking by them, as their guide and protector;
but the greatest number, of both sexes, are on foot. When we approached
near Loretto, the road was crowded with them: they generally set out
before sun-rise; and, having reposed themselves during the heat of the
day, continue their journey again in the evening. They sing their matins,
and their evening hymns, aloud. As many have fine voices and delicate
ears, those vocal concerts have a charming effect at a little distance.
During the stillness of the morning and the evening, we were serenaded
with this solemn religious music for a considerable part of the road.
The pilgrims on foot, as soon as they enter the suburbs, begin a hymn in
honour of the Virgin, which they continue till they reach the church. The
poorer sort are received into an hospital, where they have bed and board
for three days.
The only trade of Loretto consists of rosaries, crucifixes, little
Madonnas, Agnus Dei’s, and medals, which are manufactured here, and sold
to pilgrims. There are great numbers of shops full of these commodities,
some of them of a high price; but infinitely the greater part are adapted
to the purses of the buyers, and sold for a mere trifle. The evident
poverty of those manufacturers and traders, and of the inhabitants of
this town in general, is a sufficient proof that the reputation of our
Lady of Loretto is greatly on the decline.
In the great church, which contains the Holy Chapel, are confessionals,
where the penitents from every country of Europe may be confessed in
their own language, priests being always in waiting for that purpose:
each of them has a long white rod in his hand, with which he touches the
heads of those to whom he thinks it proper to give absolution. They place
themselves on their knees, in groupes, around the confessional chair; and
when the Holy Father has touched their heads with the expiatory rod, they
retire, freed from the burden of their sins, and with renewed courage to
begin a fresh account.
In the spacious area before this church, there is an elegant marble
fountain, supplied with water from an adjoining hill, by an aqueduct. Few
even of the most inconsiderable towns of Italy are without the useful
ornament of a public fountain. The embellishments of sculpture and
architecture are employed, with great propriety, on such works, which
are continually in the people’s view; the air is refreshed, and the eye
delighted, by the streams of water they pour forth; a sight peculiarly
agreeable in a warm climate. In this area there is also a statue of
Sixtus V., in bronze. Over the portal of the church itself, is a statue
of the Virgin; and above the middle gate, is a Latin inscription,
importing, that within is the House of the Mother of God, in which the
Word was made flesh. The gates of the church are likewise of bronze,
embellished with basso relievos, of admirable workmanship; the subjects
taken partly from the Old, and partly from the New, Testament, and
divided into different compartments. As the gates of this church are shut
at noon, the pilgrims who arrive after that time can get no nearer the
Santa Casa than these gates, which are, by this means, sometimes exposed
to the first violence of that holy ardour which was designed for the
Chapel itself. All the sculpture upon the gates, which is within reach of
the mouths of those zealots, is, in some degree, effaced by their kisses.
The murder of Abel, by his brother, is upon a level with the lips of a
person of an ordinary size, when kneeling. Poor Abel has been always
unfortunate; had he been placed a foot higher, or lower, on the gate, he
might have remained there, in security, for ages; but, in the unlucky
place that the sculptor has put him, his whole body has been almost
entirely kissed away by the pilgrims; whilst Cain stands, untouched, in
his original altitude, frowning and fierce as ever.
I have said nothing of the paintings to be seen here, though some are
highly esteemed, particularly two in the Treasury. The subject of one of
these is, the Virgin’s Nativity, by Annibale Carracci; and of the other,
a Holy Family, by Raphael. There are some others of considerable merit,
which ornament the altars of the great church. These altars, or little
chapels, of which this fabric contains a great number, are lined with
marble, and embellished by sculpture; but nothing within this church
interested me so much as the iron grates before those chapels, after
I was informed that they were made of the fetters and chains of the
Christian slaves, who were freed from bondage by the glorious victory of
Lepanto. From that moment these iron grates commanded my attention more
than all the golden lamps and candlesticks, and angels and jewels, of
the Holy Chapel.
The ideas that rush into one’s mind on hearing a circumstance of this
kind, are affecting beyond expression. To think of four thousand of our
fellow-creatures, torn from the service of their country and the arms of
friendship, chained to oars, subjected continually to the revilings of
enemies, and every kind of ignominious treatment, at once, when their
souls were sinking under the weight of such accumulated calamity, and
brought to the very verge of despair; at once, in one blessed moment,
freed from slavery, restored to the embraces of their friends, and
enjoying, with them, all the rapture of victory. Good God, what a scene!
what a number of scenes! for the imagination, after glancing at the
whole, distinguishes and separates objects, and forms a thousand groupes
of the most pathetic kind; the fond recognition of old companions,
brothers flying into each other’s arms, and the ecstacy of fathers on the
recovery of their lost sons. Many such pictures did my fancy form, while
I stood contemplating those grates so truly ornamental of a Christian
church, and so perfectly congenial with a religion which requires men to
_relieve the oppressed, and set the captive free_.
Happy if the followers of that religion had always observed this divine
admonition. I speak not of those men who assume the name of Christians
for the purposes of interest or ambition, but of a more absurd class of
mankind; those who, believing in Christianity, endeavour to reconcile
it to a conduct, and doctrines, entirely repugnant to its nature. This
absurdity has appeared in the human character from the earliest ages of
Christianity. Men have displayed unaffected zeal, and endeavoured to
support and propagate the most benevolent and rational of all religions,
by actions worthy of demons, and arguments which shock common sense.
The same persons who praised and admired the heavenly benevolence of
this sentiment, Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy;
have thought it a duty to condemn their fellow-creatures to cruel deaths
for speculative opinions. The same men who admired the founder of
Christianity for going about, continually, doing good, have thought it a
duty to spend their whole lives in cells, doing nothing.
And can any thing be more opposite to those dark and inexplicable
doctrines, on the belief of which, according to the conviction of many,
our salvation depends, than this plain rule, Whatsoever ye would that
men should do to you, do ye even so to them? a rule so plain, as to be
understood by the most simple and ignorant; and so just, complete, and
comprehensive, as to be admired by the wisest and most learned.
If this equitable maxim is the law and the prophets, and we learn from
the highest authority that it is, what becomes of all those mysterious
webs, of various texture, which, since the beginning of the Christian
æra, Popes, Priests, and many of the leaders of sectaries, have wove
around it?