E have been devoting the greater part of this first week in May to the famous spring festival of Naples, the "standing miracle," as Baronius calls it, the liquefaction of Saint Januarius's blood. We have seen the miracle performed almost every day this week; but the most interesting ceremonies were those which took place the first day of the festival, last Saturday, which was the Saturday preceding the Sunday that falls next to the calends of May, the anniversary of the translation of the Saint's relics from Pozzuoli to Naples (400 A. D.). 1 Luigi had told me, some weeks ago, that he should make arrangements for me to see this miracle satisfactorily. When he learned that Mrs. Rochester and Janet also wished to be present, he kindly included them in the party; I say kindly, as it is an uncommon thing for Italian Catholics, no matter how intimate they may be with Protestants, to give them opportunities for seeing the most sacred services of their Church. They will show their galleries, their palaces, their works of art, with courteous freedom, but they jealously guard the solemn festivals of their religion from the curious and unbelieving spectator. Through Luigi's intimacy with the Archbishop, permission was readily obtained for us to go behind the High Altar of Santa Chiara, into the space between it and those great medieval treasures of the church, Masaccio's Royal Tombs, which I have already described. This recess was made private by heavy crimson curtains hung at each side; and eight or ten comfortable seats were placed there, for a few persons as favored as ourselves. It was a most desirable situation, for between the altar pillars and drapery we commanded a fine coup d'œil of the grand religious pageant which always takes place in the church the first day of the Miracle festival. On entering the church, a little after midday, we placed ourselves in front of the altar, as we wished to see the bust of the Saint, the decorations, and, above all, the curious attendants on the ceremony; these are "the relations of Saint Januarius," as they are called, the oldest and poorest women in Naples, who are always seated within the altar balustrade, and form one of the most remarkable features of the spectacle. Seats are placed for them on the right of the altar, and from time immemorial they have literally "assisted" at these services. They were already assembled, filling up four or five benches, looking like the witches in Macbeth, clothed in grotesque costume, with horribly ugly faces, and chanting a rude, wild invocation; it was a Litany, which they repeated and repeated, unbroken and undisturbed, through the whole long ceremony. Neither the superb music of the orchestra, the interest excited by the procession, nor the intense emotion created by the slow performance of the miracle, interrupted their rude chanting; on the contrary, every interference only made them shriek the shriller, and louder; and, wild as the chanting was, there was a curious melody in it. The costly High Altar, of fine marbles and lapis lazuli inlayings, was draped with crimson velvet, whose rich folds hung down beside and around the massive silver bust of the Neapolitan Saint. This bust, which was placed on the right of the altar (to the left of the spectator), holds in its interior Saint Januarius's skull. The sunbeams streamed in on the jewelled mitre, gorgeous necklaces, and crosses adorning the bust, breaking into dazzling fragments of light as they fell on the four thousand rubies, sapphires, and diamonds there collected. One of the crosses alone had sixty-three handsome diamonds in it. Another superb one was composed of alternate large diamonds and sapphires; and still another, of fine-sized diamonds and emeralds,—all gifts from various Catholic sovereigns. We looked at these splendors leisurely, and the Catholic members of the party had time to perform their devotions; for we were not to take our places behind the altar until the procession came near the church; and the warning for our removal was to be the martial music accompanying it. The plan of that day's celebration was this. In the. morning, the silver bust containing the Saint's head had been brought to Santa Chiara from its home, the Chapel of Saint Januarius, which is in the right aisle of the Cathedral, a beautiful little Greek cross building, that cost half a million of ducats, and is filled with exquisite works of art, such as Zampieri's, Giordano's, and Domenichino's paintings, Fiorelli's bronzes, and Vinaccia's marvellous silver basso-rilievos and sculpture. After the bust departed, a procession formed in the Cathedral, consisting of the Cardinal-Archbishop, his clergy, and the municipal authorities; which after form ing proceeded to the Chapel, to obtain the sacred relics. These relics are always kept in a place called the Tabernacle, which is a large aperture behind the altar of the Saint Januarius Chapel. This Tabernacle is closed up by a massive iron door, with two strong locks; one key is kept by the municipal authorities; the other by the Cardinal-Archbishop, and both possessors must always be present at the opening of the door. The Tabernacle contains the châsse, or shrine, of richly chased silver and cut-glass; in it are the sacred vials holding the relics. The Cardinal, after entering the Chapel, unlocked the Tabernacle door, took the shrine carefully in his hands, and left the Chapel and Cathedral at the head of a most stately procession, composed of his canons, the municipal authorities, men carrying the costly silver busts and statues of the forty-eight saints, protectors of Naples, which superb works belong also to the Chapel of the Treasury of Saint Januarius, accompanied by soldiers, and military bands playing all the while the most inspiring music. This procession, with its fine gilt state coaches and statues; superb uniforms, glittering banners, and rich canopies; burning incense, rising up from beautifully-wrought silver censers, tossed high aloft in the air, and gay music, -formed a sight well worth witnessing; and if we are here another year, we shall select it for the first day's view. It proceeded along the Anticaglia and through various streets until it reached Santa Chiara, followed by crowds of people; and an hour or so after midday, while we were sitting in silence before that superbly decorated altar, we heard the music first faintly, and then approaching nearer. I had noticed a little group of gentlemen standing half within the archway of a side entrance to the sacristy, composed of Church dignitaries, among whom was the Pope's Nuncio. As the procession music drew nearer the church, one of these clergymen stepped forward, and made a friendly sign with his head to Luigi, who arose and told us to follow him. - This gentleman was a fine, soldierly looking man; he walked in front of us with a courteous air, managing his long purple robe with much grace. He wore on his shoulders a small red silk cape, cape and robe were buttoned from throat-band to shoe-buckle with very small buttons, no larger than peas, placed as close as possible. He held aside one of the curtains of the space where we were to be seated with the most courtly reverence, while we passed in, then entered and assisted Luigi with much interest in placing us in the best position for seeing both the procession and the ceremony. This accomplished, he bowed gracefully to us, and resting his hand on Luigi's shoulder, looked into his face with a pleasant, friendly smile, said a few words in a low tone, and disappeared behind the curtains. cross. - "That is one of the canons of Saint Restituta," said Luigi, as he took his seat behind us. "He belongs to the Chapter of the Metropolitan Church, and enjoys many of those distinctions you admire so much, Ottilie; he can wear the ermine cape and the mitre, can bear the crosier and One of your favorite Popes, Paul IV., - Cardinal Carafa, was a Neapolitan canon, like this gentleman; also Urban VI. and Boniface IX. There are thirty of these canons officiating in the Duomo, or Cathedral; but the church belonging to them is Saint Restituta, that ancient building adjoining the Cathedral, in the aisle leading off on the left, as you enter the Duomo. It is the |