Vienna.
Whether it is owing to the example of the Empress, or to what other
cause, I shall not take upon me to decide; but there certainly appears
a warmer and more general attachment to religion in Vienna, than in
any other great town in Germany: There is also a greater appearance
of satisfaction and happiness here than in many other cities, where
religious impressions are more feeble and, less prevalent: It is not
improbable, that the latter may be a consequence of the former.
Irreligion and scepticism, exclusive of the bad effects they may have
on the morals or future destiny of men, impair even their temporal
happiness, by obscuring those hopes, which, in some situations, are
their only consolation. In whatever superior point of view those men may
consider themselves, who deride the opinions which their fellow-citizens
hold sacred, this vanity is often overbalanced by the irksome doubts
which obtrude on their minds. Uncertainty with respect to the most
interesting of all subjects, or a fixed persuasion of annihilation, are
equally insupportable to the greater part of mankind, who sooner or later
endeavour to put in a claim for that bright reversion, which religion has
promised to believers. If the idea of annihilation has been supported
without pain by a few philosophers, it is the utmost that can be said;
such a state of mind can never be a source of satisfaction or pleasure.
People of great sensibility seldom endure it long; their fond desire
of immortality overturns every fabric which scepticism had attempted to
raise in their minds; they cannot abide by a doctrine which plucks from
the heart a deeply-rooted hope, tears asunder all those ties of humanity,
affection, friendship, and love, which it has been the business of their
lives to bind, and which they expect will be eternal. Since sensibility
renders the heart averse to scepticism, and inclinable to devotion, we
may naturally expect to find women more devout than men; very few of that
delicate sex have been able to look with stedfast eyes on a prospect,
which terminates in a dismal blank; and those few, who have had that
degree of philosophical fortitude, have not been the most amiable of the
sex.
None of my female acquaintance at Vienna are in this uncomfortable
state of mind, but many of them have embroidered some fanciful piece
of superstition of their own upon the extensive ground which the Roman
Catholic faith affords. In a lady’s house a few days ago I happened to
take up a book which lay upon the table,—a small picture of the Virgin
Mary on vellum fell from between the leaves; under the figure of the
Virgin there was an inscription, which I translate literally:
“This is presented by —— —— to her dearest friend —— ——, in token of the
sincerest regard and affection; begging that as often as she beholds this
figure of the blessed Virgin, she may mix a sentiment of affection for
her absent friend, with the emotions of gratitude and adoration she feels
for the Mother of Jesus.”
The lady informed me, that it was usual for intimate friends to send such
presents to each other when they were about to separate, and when there
was a probability of their being long asunder.
There seems to be something exceedingly tender and pathetic in blending
friendship with religious sentiments, and thus by a kind of consecration
endeavouring to preserve the former from the effects of time and
absence.—The perusal of this inscription recalled to my memory certain
connections I have at home, the impetuosity of which recollection
affected me beyond expression.
I remarked in this lady’s house another beautiful picture of the
Virgin, ornamented with a rich frame, and a silk curtain to preserve it
from dust; I observed that she never looked at it but with an air of
veneration and love, nor passed it when uncovered by the curtain without
a gentle bending of the knee.—She told me, that this picture had been
long in the family, and had been always held in the highest esteem, for
that both her mother and she owed some of the most fortunate events of
their lives to the protection of the blessed Virgin, and she seemed not
intirely free from a persuasion that the attention of the Virgin was
in some degree retained by the good offices of this identical picture.
She declared that the confidence she had in the Virgin’s goodness and
protection, was one of the greatest comforts she had in life—that to
_her_ she could, without restraint, open her heart, and pour out her
whole soul under every affliction, and she never failed to find herself
comforted and relieved by such effusions.
I observed, that devout Protestants found the same consolation in
addressing the Almighty.
She said—She could not comprehend how that could be—for that God the
Father was so great and awful, that her veneration was mixed with such
a degree of dread as confounded all her ideas when she attempted to
approach him; but the blessed Mary was of so mild, so condescending,
and compassionate a character, that she could address her with more
confidence.
She said, she knew it was her duty to adore the Creator of the universe,
and she fulfilled it to the best of her power, but she could not divest
herself of a certain degree of restraint in her devotions to him, or
even to her Saviour; but the blessed Mary being herself a woman, and
acquainted with all the weakness and delicacies of the sex, she could to
_her_ open her heart with a degree of freedom which it was not possible
for her to use to any of the Persons of the Holy Trinity.—Regardez sa
physionomie, added she, pointing to the picture,—mon Dieu, qu’elle est
douce, qu’elle est gracieuse!
These sentiments, however contrary to the Protestant tenets, and the
maxims of philosophy, are not unnatural to the human heart.—Voltaire
says, that man has always shewn an inclination to create God after his
own image; this lady formed an idea of the blessed Virgin from the
representation of the painter, as well as from the account given of her
in the Evangelists; and her religion allowing the Mother of Christ to be
an object of worship, she naturally turned the ardor of her devotion to
her whose power she imagined was sufficient to protect her votaries here,
and procure them paradise hereafter, and whose character she thought in
some particulars sympathised with her own.
Some zealous Protestants may possibly be shocked at this lady’s
theological notions; however, as in other respects she is a woman of an
excellent character, and observes the moral precepts of Christianity
with as much attention as if her creed had been purified by Luther, and
doubly refined by Calvin, it is hoped they will not think it too great
an extension of charity to suppose that her speculative errors may be
forgiven.