I suppose there is some spiritual advantage derivable from the action, but I don’t know what. Why, however, I should be surprised I can’t tell, after all I have seen here. Madame de Dalberg came to my recollection, and San Gennaro; she had owned to me that she believed in the miracle, and we had a long dispute about it, though I have since thought that I am wrong to regard her credulity with such pity and contempt. The case admits of an argument, though not that which she made use of. Many people are right in what they do, but without knowing why; some wrong, with very fair reasons. She, however, is wrong both MODERN MIRACLES ways, but she had been brought up in principles of strong religious belief, and she belongs to a church which teaches that miracles have never ceased from the days of the Apostles till now. Those who believe that a miracle ever was performed cannot doubt that another may be performed now; the only question is as to the fact. We believe that miracles ceased with the Apostles, and we pronounce all that are alleged to have happened since to be fictitious. Believing as she does that miracles have continually occurred, it is more reasonable to believe in the reality of one she sees herself than in those which are reported by others. She sees this done; it is, then, a miracle or it is an imposture; but it is declared to be a miracle by a whole body of men, who must know whether it be so or not, and to whom she has been accustomed to look up with respect and confidence, and who have always been deemed worthy of belief. What is it, then, she believes? The evidence of her own senses, and the testimony of a number of men, and a succession of them, who are competent witnesses, and whose characters are for the most part unblemished, in her opinion certainly. The objection that it is improbable, and that no sufficient reason is assigned for its performance, is quite inadmissible, as all considerations of reason are in matters of revelation.
And when the event only is revealed, it is not for men to dogmatise about the mode or means of its accomplishment, for God’s ways are not as our ways, nor His thoughts as our thoughts, and His purposes may be wrought out in a manner that we wot not.—Keith.
There is nothing of which we are so continually reminded as that we must not pretend to judge of the reasonableness and fitness of the Divine dispensations, and there may therefore be good cause for the San Gennaro affair, though we cannot fathom it. Still, as the generality of people of education have given it up, one wonders at the orthodox few whose belief lingers on. There are other bloods that liquefy in various places besides San Gennaro’s.
May 12th, 1830
Walked to Santa Agnese, in the Piazza Navona, a pretty church, but hardly anybody in it; to Santa Maria sopra Minerva, empty likewise, but Michael Angelo’s Christ was there—a grand performance, though defective about the legs, which are too thick; he has one golden foot for the devotees, who were wearing out the marble toe, and would soon have had it as smooth as that of Jupiter’s in St. Peter’s; ci-devant Jupiter, now St. Peter.
I went again to the Pantheon, and walked round and round, and looked, and admired; even the ragged wretches who came in seemed struck with admiration. It is so fine to see the clouds rolling above through the roof; it passes my comprehension how this temple escaped the general wreck of Rome. Then to St. Peter’s, and went up to the roof and to the ball, through the aperture of which I could just squeeze, though there is plenty of room when once in it. The ball holds above thirty people, stuffed close of course. Three other men were going up at the same time, who filled the narrow ascent with garlicky effluvia. It is impossible to have an idea of the size and grandeur of St. Peter’s without going over the roof, and examining all the details, and looking down from the galleries. The ascent is very easy; there are slabs at the bottom taken from the holy gates, as they were successively opened and closed by the different Popes at the Jubilees.[4] At the top were recorded the ascents of various kings and princes and princesses, who had clambered up; there was also an inscription in Latin and Italian, the very counterpart of that which is still seen on the wall in Titus’s Baths, only instead of ‘Jovem omnipotentem atque omnes Deos iratos habeat,’ &c. &c., it runs, ‘Iratos habeat Deum omnipotentem et Apostolos Petrum et Paulum,’ though I don’t see why Paul should care about it. Went afterwards and walked on the Pincian.
[4] The Jubilee was established by Boniface VIII. in 1300, and was originally a centenary commemoration, but reduced to fifty years, and afterwards to twenty-five, as it still continues. Hallam remarks that the Court of Rome at the next Jubilee will read with a sigh the description of that of 1300. ‘The Pope received an incalculable sum of money, for two priests stood day and night at the altar of St. Peter, with rakes in their hands, raking up the heaps of money.’—Muratori.
A RACING VOW This morning went with the Lovaines and Monsignore Spada to see the library of the Vatican, which was to have been shown us by Monsignore Maii, the librarian, but he was engaged elsewhere and did not come. These galleries are most beautiful, vast, and magnificent, and the painting of the old part interesting and curious, but that which was done by Pius VI. and Pius VII. has deformed the walls with such trash as I never beheld; they present various scenes of the misfortunes of these two Popes, and certain passages in their lives. The principal manuscripts we saw were a history of Federigo di Felto, Duke of Urbino, and nephew of Julius II., beautifully illuminated by Julio Clovio, a scholar of Giulio Romano. I never saw anything more exquisite than these paintings. Amongst the most curious of the literary treasures we saw are a manuscript of some of St. Augustine’s works, written upon a palimpsest of Cicero’s ‘De Republicâ;’ this treatise was brought to light by Maii; the old Latin was as nearly erased as possible, but by the application of gall it has been brought out faintly, but enough to be made out, and completely read: Henry VIII.’s love-letters to Anne Boleyn, in French and English: Henry’s reply to Luther, the presentation copy to the Pope (Clement VII.), signed by him twice at the end, in English at the end of the book, in Latin at the dedication, which is also written by his own hand, only a line; the pictures representing St. Peter’s in different stages of the work are very curious. In the print room there is a celestial globe painted by Julio Romano.
Just before I went to the Vatican I read in ‘Galignani’ the agreeable intelligence that my mare Lady Emily had beat Clotilde at Newmarket, which I attribute entirely to my ex voto of a silver horse-shoe, which I vowed, before I went to Naples, to the Virgin of the Pantheon in case I won the match; and, as I am resolved to be as good as my word, I have ordered the horse-shoe, which is to be sent on Monday, and as soon as it arrives it shall be suspended amongst all the arms, and legs, and broken gigs, and heads, and silver hearts, and locks of hair.
Everybody here is in great alarm about the King (George IV.), who I have no doubt is very ill. I am afraid he will die before I get home, and I should like to be in at the death and see all the proceedings of a new reign; but, now I am here, I must stay out my time, let what will happen. I shall probably never see Rome again, and ‘according to the law of probability, so true in general, so false in particular,’ I have a good chance of seeing at least one more King leave us.