Naples.
On the first Sunday of May, we had an opportunity of seeing the famous
Neapolitan miracle, of the liquefaction of Saint Januarius’s blood,
performed. This Saint, you know, is the patron of Naples; which
circumstance alone forms a strong presumption of his being a Saint of
very considerable power and efficacy; for it is not to be imagined that
the care of a city, like Naples, which is threatened every moment with
destruction from Mount Vesuvius, would be entrusted to an under-strapper.
Indeed there has, on some occasions, been reason to fear, that, great and
powerful as this Saint is, the Dæmon of the mountain would have got the
better of him; however, as Saint Januarius has been able to protect them
hitherto, and is supposed to be improved in the science of defence by
long practice, the Neapolitans think it more prudent to abide by him than
to choose another; who, though he may possibly be of higher rank, and
older standing, cannot have equal experience in this particular kind of
warfare.
Saint Januarius suffered martyrdom about the end of the third century.
When he was beheaded, a pious lady of this city caught about an ounce of
his blood, which has been carefully preserved in a bottle ever since,
without having lost a single grain of its weight. This of itself, were
it equally demonstrable, might be considered as a greater miracle than
the circumstance on which the Neapolitans lay the whole stress, viz. that
the blood which has congealed, and acquired a solid form by age, is no
sooner brought near the head of the Saint, than, as a mark of veneration,
it immediately liquefies. This experiment is made three different times
every year, and is considered by the Neapolitans as a miracle of the
first magnitude.
As the divinity of no other religion whatever is any longer attempted
to be proved by fresh miracles, but all are now trusted to their own
internal evidence, and to those wrought at a former period, this miracle
of Saint Januarius is probably the more admired on account of its being
the only one, except transubstantiation, which remains still in use, out
of the vast abundance said to have been performed at various periods in
support of the Roman Catholic faith. The latter is unquestionably the
greater miracle, of the two; for to change a wafer into flesh and blood,
is more extraordinary than to liquefy any substance whatever: Yet I once
imagined the liquefaction had rather the advantage in this particular;
that the change is more obvious to the senses. But I have lately been
otherwise instructed, by an ingenious person, who was formerly a Jesuit.
On somebody (not me, for I never do make objections in matters of faith)
having observed, That it was unfortunate that the great change operated
on the wafer in transubstantiation, was not visible, the person above
alluded to pronounced the miracle to be much greater on that account.
“For pray, Sir,” said he, addressing himself to the objector, “suppose
I should immediately turn that fowl, pointing to a turkey which was at
that moment stalking past; suppose I should immediately turn that fowl
into a woman, would you not think it very extraordinary?” “Certainly,”
replied the other. “Well, Sir, but after the change is actually made,
and the fowl has to all intents and purposes become a woman, if it still
retained the appearance of a turkey, you must acknowledge _that_ would
be more extraordinary still. In the same manner,” continued he, “in the
celebration of mass, the conversion of the wafer into the real body and
blood of Jesus Christ, is a great miracle, and highly to be venerated;
but, after this wonderful change has actually taken place, that the
real body of Christ should, even in the eyes of the sharpest sighted
spectators, still retain its original form of a wafer, is a great deal
more amazing and stupendous.”
But, however great a superiority the miracle of transubstantiation may
have over that of St. Januarius, in the opinion of Roman Catholics in
general, the Neapolitans imagine the latter is sufficient to convert
infidels, and put heretics out of countenance. A zealous believer of this
country, having described the miracle, breaks out into the following
exclamations: “O illustre memoria! O verità irrefragabile! vengano
gli Heretici, vengano, e Stupiscano, ed aprano gli occhi alla verità
Cattolica, et Evangelica; Bastarebbe questo sangue di S. Gennaro sola
à fare testimonia della Fede. E possibile, che a tanto, et si famoso
miraculo non si converta tutta la Gentilità, ed Infedeltà alla verità
Cattolica della Romana chiesa?” Though I am not such an enthusiastic
admirer of the performance as this author, yet, on the other hand, I do
not think that Protestants, however much they may be convinced it is a
trick, have any right to call it a _clumsy trick_, without explaining
in what it consists. This is a liberty which some travellers of great
eminence have taken. Others have asserted, that the substance in the
bottle, which is exhibited for the blood of the Saint, is something
naturally solid, but which melts with a small degree of heat. When it is
first brought out of the cold chapel, say those gentlemen, it is in its
natural solid state; but when brought before the Saint by the priest, and
rubbed between his warm hands, and breathed upon for some time, it melts;
and this is the whole mystery. Though I find myself unable to explain
on what principle the liquefaction depends, I am fully convinced that
it must be something different from this; for I have it from the most
satisfactory authority, from those who had opportunities of knowing,
and who believe no more in the miracle than you do, that this congealed
mass has sometimes been found in a liquid state in cold weather, before
it was touched by the Priest, or brought near the head of the Saint;
and that, on other occasions, it has remained solid when brought before
him, notwithstanding all the efforts of the Priest to melt it. When
this happens, the superstitious, which, at a very moderate calculation,
comprehends ninety-nine in a hundred of the inhabitants of this city,
are thrown into the utmost consternation, and are sometimes wrought up
by their fears into a state of mind which is highly dangerous both to
their civil and ecclesiastical governors. It is true, that this happens
but seldom; for, in general, the substance in the phial, whatever it may
be, is in a solid form in the chapel, and becomes liquid when brought
before the Saint; but as this is not always the case, it affords reason
to believe, that, whatever may have been the case when this miracle or
trick, call it which you please, was first exhibited, the principle
on which it depends has somehow or other been lost, and is not now
understood fully even by the Priests themselves; or else they are not now
so expert, as formerly, in preparing the substance which represents the
Saint’s blood, so as to make it remain solid when it ought, and liquefy
the instant it is required.
The head and blood of the Saint are kept in a kind of press, with
folding doors of silver, in the chapel of St. Januarius, belonging to
the cathedral church. The real head is probably not so fresh, and well
preserved, as the blood; and on that account is not exposed to the eyes
of the public, but inclosed in a large silver bust, gilt and enriched
with jewels of high value. This being what appears to the people, their
idea of the Saint’s features and complexion are taken entirely from the
bust.
The blood is kept in a small repository by itself.
About mid-day, the bust, inclosing the real head, was brought with great
solemnity, and placed under a kind of portico, open on all sides, that
the different communities, which come in procession, may be able to
traverse it, and that the people may have the comfort of beholding the
miracle. The processions of that solemn day were innumerable; all the
streets of Naples were crowded with the various orders of ecclesiastics,
dressed in their richest robes. The monks of each convent were mustered
under their own particular banners. A splendid cross was carried before
each procession; and the images, in massy silver, of the Saints,
peculiarly patronising the convents, followed the cross. In this order
they marched from the convents to the pavilion, under which the head of
St. Januarius was placed, and having done due obeisance to that great
protector of this city, they marched back by a different route, in the
same order, to their convent. But as there are a great many convents
in Naples, and a great number of monks in each convent, though the
processions began soon after mid-day, the evening was well advanced
before the last of them had passed. The grand procession of all began
when the others had finished. It was composed of a numerous body of
clergy, and an immense multitude of people of all ranks, headed by the
archbishop of Naples himself, who carried the phial containing the blood
of the Saint. The D—— of H—— and I accompanied Sir W—— H—— to a house
directly opposite to the portico, where the sacred head was placed.
We there found a large assembly of Neapolitan nobility. A magnificent
robe of velvet, richly embroidered, was thrown over the shoulders of
the bust; a mitre, refulgent with jewels, was placed on its head. The
archbishop, with a solemn pace, and a look full of awe and veneration,
approached, holding forth the sacred phial which contained the precious
lump of blood. He addressed the Saint in the humblest manner, fervently
praying that he would graciously condescend to manifest his regard to his
faithful votaries the people of Naples, by the usual token of ordering
that lump of his sacred blood to assume its natural and original form.
In those prayers he was joined by the multitude around, particularly by
the women; of whom there seemed more than their proportion. My curiosity
prompted me to leave the balcony, and mingle with the multitude. I got
by degrees quite near the bust. Twenty minutes had already elapsed,
since the archbishop had been praying with all possible earnestness,
and turning the phial around and around without any effect. An old monk
stood near the archbishop, and was at the utmost pains to instruct him
how to handle, chafe, and rub the phial; he frequently took it into
his own hands, but his manœuvres were as ineffectual as those of the
archbishop. By this time the people had become exceedingly noisy; the
women were quite hoarse with praying; the monk continued his operations
with increased zeal; and the archbishop was all over in a profuse sweat
with vexation. In whatever light the failure of the miracle might appear
to others, it was a very serious matter to him; because the people
consider such an event as a proof of the Saint’s displeasure, and a
certain indication that some dreadful calamity will ensue. This was the
first opportunity he had had of officiating since his nomination to the
see. There was no knowing what fancy might have entered into the heads
of a superstitious populace; they might have imagined, or his enemies
might have insinuated, that the failure of the miracle proceeded from St.
Januarius’s disapprobation of the person in whose hands it was to have
taken place. I never saw more evident marks of vexation and alarm than
appeared in the countenance of the right reverend personage. This alone
would have convinced me that they cannot command the liquefaction when
they please. While things were in this state I observed a gentleman come
hastily through the crowd, and speak to the old monk, who, in a pretty
loud voice, and with an accent and a grimace very expressive of chagrin,
replied, “Cospetto di bacco è dura come una pietra.” At the same time an
acquaintance whispered me, That it would be prudent to retire, because
the mob on similar occasions have been struck with a notion, that the
operation of the miracle was disturbed by the presence of heretics; on
which they are apt to insult them. I directly took his hint, and joined
the company I had left. An universal gloom had overspread all their
countenances, they talked to each other in whispers, and seemed oppressed
with grief and contrition. One very beautiful young lady cried and
sobbed as if her heart had been ready to break. The passions of some of
the rabble without doors took a different turn; instead of sorrow, they
were filled with rage and indignation at the Saint’s obstinacy. They put
him in mind of the zeal with which he was adored by people of all ranks
in Naples; of the honours which had been conferred on him; that he was
respected here more than in any other country on earth; and some went
so far as to call him, an old ungrateful yellow-faced rascal, for his
obduracy. It was now almost dark—and when least expected, the signal was
given that the miracle was performed.—The populace filled the air with
repeated shouts of joy; a band of music began to play; Te Deum was sung;
couriers were dispatched to the royal family, then at Portici, with the
glad tidings; the young lady dried up her tears; the countenances of our
company brightened in an instant, and they sat down to cards without
farther dread of eruptions, earthquakes, or pestilence.
I had remarked, during their suspence with respect to the success of
the miracle, that some imputed the delay partly to the weather, which
happened to be rainy, and colder than is usual at this season; and
partly to the aukwardness of the Archbishop, who, never having performed
before, was accused of not handling the phial in the same dexterous and
efficacious manner that a person of experience would have done. While
they imputed the failure to those causes, they seemed equally uneasy with
the rest of the company about the consequences. It struck me that the
first sentiment was perfectly inconsistent with the second. I mentioned
this to a French gentleman, who is here as travelling companion to the
young Comte de G——. “If,” said I, “the weather, or the unskilfulness of
the Archbishop, has prevented the substance in the phial from becoming
liquid, this surely cannot be an indication that Heaven or the Saint
is displeased; if, on the contrary, the blood continuing solid in the
presence of the Saint, proceeds from Heaven or the Saint being offended,
then no kind of weather, and no kind of expertness on the part of the
Archbishop, could have rendered it liquid.”—“Monsieur,” said he, “voilà
ce qu’on appelle raisonner, ce que ces messieurs ne font jamais.”
The same evening, an acquaintance of mine, who is also a Roman Catholic,
and who remained close by the Archbishop till all was over, assured
me, that the miracle had failed entirely; for the old monk seeing no
symptom of the blood liquefying, had called out that the miracle had
succeeded; on which the signal had been given, the people had shouted,
the Archbishop had held up the bottle, moving it with a rapid motion
before the eyes of the spectators, and nobody chusing to contradict what
every body wished, he had been allowed to cover up the phial, and carry
it back to the Chapel, with the contents, in the same form they had come
abroad. How far this account is exactly true, I will not take on me to
assert; I was not near enough to see the transaction myself, and I have
only the authority of this person, having heard no other body say they
had observed the same.