Vienna.
The preference which is given by individuals in Roman Catholic countries
to particular Saints, proceeds sometimes from a supposed connection
between the characters of the Saints and the votaries; men expect the
greatest favour and indulgence from those who most resemble themselves,
and naturally admire others for the qualities which they value most in
their own character.
A French Officer of dragoons, being at Rome, went to view the famous
statue of Moses by Michael Angelo; the artist has conveyed into this
master-piece, in the opinion of some, all the dignity which a human form
and human features are capable of receiving; he has endeavoured to give
this statue a countenance worthy of the great legislator of the Jews,
the favourite of Heaven, who had conversed face to face with the Deity.
The officer happened to be acquainted with the history of Moses, but he
laid no great stress on any of these circumstances—he admired him much
more on account of one adventure in which he imagined Moses had acquitted
himself like a man of spirit, and as he himself would have done—Voilà qui
est terrible! voilà qui est sublime! cried he at sight of the statue—and
after a little pause he added, on voit là un drôle qui a donné des coups
de bâton en son tems, et qui a tué son homme.
The crucifixes, and statues, and pictures, of Saints, with which Popish
churches are filled, were no doubt intended to awaken devotion when it
became drowsy, and to excite in the mind gratitude and veneration for
the holy persons they represent; but it cannot be denied that the gross
imaginations of the generality of mankind are exceedingly prone to forget
the originals, and transfer their adoration to the senseless figures
which they behold, and before which they kneel. So that whatever was the
original design, and whatever effects those statues and pictures have
on the minds of calm, sensible Roman Catholics, it is certain that they
often are the objects of as complete idolatry as ever was practised in
Athens or Rome, before the statues of Jupiter or Apollo.
On what other principle do such multitudes flock from all the Roman
Catholic countries in Europe to the shrine of our Lady at Loretto? Any
statue of the Virgin would serve as effectually as that to recall her
to the memory, and people may adore her as devoutly in their own parish
churches, as in the chapel at Loretto.—The pilgrims therefore must be
persuaded that there is some divine influence or intelligence in the
statue which is kept there; that it has a consciousness of all the
trouble they have taken, and the inconveniencies to which they have been
exposed, by long journies, for the sole purpose of kneeling before it in
preference to all other images.
It was probably on account of this tendency of the human mind, that
the Jews were forbid to make unto themselves any graven image. This
indeed seems to have been the only method of securing that superstitious
people from idolatry; and notwithstanding the peremptory tenor of the
commandment, neither the zeal nor remonstrances of their judges and
prophets could always prevent their making idols, nor hinder their
worshipping them wherever they found them ready made.
Statues and pictures of Saints which have been long in particular
families, are generally kept with great care and attention; the
proprietors often have the same kind of attachment to them that the
ancient heathens had to their Dii Penates.—They are considered as
tutelary and domestic divinities, from whom the family expect protection.
When a series of unfortunate events happens in a family, it sometimes
creates a suspicion that the family statues have lost their influence.
This also is a very ancient sentiment; Suetonius informs us, that the
fleet of Augustus having been dispersed by a storm, and many of the ships
lost, the Emperor gave orders that the statue of Neptune should not be
carried in procession with those of the other Gods, from an opinion that
the God of the Sea was unwilling or unable to protect his navy, and in
either case he deemed him not worthy of any public mark of distinction.
The genuine tenets of the Roman Catholic church certainly do not
authorise any of the superstitions above mentioned, which are generally
confined to the credulous and illiterate in the lower ranks of life.—Yet
instances are sometimes to be met with in a higher sphere: a Frenchman
in a creditable way of life had a small figure of our Saviour on the
Cross, of very curious workmanship; he offered it for sale to an English
gentleman of my acquaintance; after expatiating on the excellency of
the workmanship, he told him that he had long kept this crucifix with
the most pious care, that he had always addressed it in his private
devotion, and that in return he had expected some degree of protection
and favour; instead of which he had of late been remarkably unfortunate;
that all the tickets he had in the lottery had proved blanks; and having
had a great share in the cargo of a ship coming from the West-Indies,
he had recommended it in the most fervent manner in his prayers to the
crucifix, and that he might give no offence, by any appearance of want of
faith, he had not insured the goods—notwithstanding all which the vessel
had been shipwrecked, and the cargo totally lost, though the sailors, in
whose preservation he had no concern, had been all saved—Enfin, Monsieur,
cried he, with an accent of indignation mingled with regret, and raising
his shoulders above his ears, Enfin, Monsieur, il m’a manqué, et je vends
mon Christ.
Happy for Christians of every denomination, could they abide by the
plain, rational, benevolent precepts of the Christian religion, rejecting
all the conceits of superstition, which never fail to deform its original
beauty, and to corrupt its intrinsic purity!