LETTER XCIV.

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.