_By Lord Mahon._
The supposed discovery of a religious relic, and the miracles attending
it, are events so common in Roman Catholic legends as to deserve but
little attention, even on the ground of curiosity; but the real changes
and vicissitudes of one of these relics, for twelve centuries after its
discovery, may perhaps excite some interest, more especially as its
singular adventures, very distant in time, and recorded by different
writers, have never yet been brought together, and formed into one
connected narrative.
In the reign of the Emperor Constantine the Great, his mother Helena,
when almost an octogenarian, undertook a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.
Her pious zeal was particularly directed to the search of the holy
sepulchre, and of the cross on which Jesus Christ had suffered; and,
according to her own judgment: at least, she was successful in both.
A vision, or perhaps a dream, disclosed the place of the Holy Sepulchre;
the three crosses were found buried near it, and that of the Saviour is
said to have been distinguished from the others by its healing powers
on the sick, and even restoring a corpse to life. This discovery caused
great and general rejoicing throughout Christendom.[3] The spot was
immediately consecrated by a church, called the New Jerusalem, and of
such magnificence that the celebrated Eusebius is strongly inclined
to look upon its building as the fulfilment of the prophecies in the
Scriptures for a city of that name.[4] A verse of the sibyl was also
remembered or composed, which, like all predictions after the event,
tallied in a surprising manner with the holy object so happily revealed.
The greater share of the Cross was left at Jerusalem, set in a case of
silver, and the remainder was sent to Constantine, who, in hopes of
securing the prosperity and duration of his empire, enclosed it within
his own statue on the Byzantine Forum. The pilgrims also, who thronged
to Jerusalem during a long course of years, were always eager, and often
successful, in obtaining a small fragment of the cross for themselves;
so that at length, according to the strong expression of St. Cyril, the
whole earth was filled with this sacred wood. Even at present, there
is scarcely a Roman Catholic cathedral which does not display some
pretended pieces of this relic; and it has been computed, with some
exaggeration, that were they all collected together, they might prove
sufficient for building a ship of the line. To account for this
extraordinary diffusion of so limited a quantity, the Catholic writers
have been obliged to assert its preternatural growth and vegetation,
which the saint already quoted ingeniously compares to the miracle of
the loaves and fishes.[5] That the guardians of this cross at Jerusalem
should have had recourse to such evident and undoubted falsehood,
should, I think, very much increase our doubts whether the Cross itself
was genuine, and whether the old age and credulity of Helena, may not
have been grossly imposed upon. Where we see one fraud, we may justly
suspect another. From this period, however, the history of this
fragment of wood may be clearly and accurately traced during the
twelve succeeding centuries.
In spite of its frequent partitions, the Holy Cross, say the monkish
writers, thus remained undiminished at Jerusalem, receiving the homage
of innumerable pilgrims, until the year 614, when that city was besieged
and taken by the Persians. Their barbarous fanaticism reduced to ruins
or burnt to the ground nearly all the sacred buildings, and made a
great slaughter of the Christians, in which they are said to have been
actively assisted by the resident Jews.[6] The bishop and the relic
in question were removed into Persia, and continued in that country
fourteen years, until the victories of the Emperor Heraclius led to
an honourable peace, in which the restoration of this most precious
treasure was expressly stipulated. During its captivity it had happily
escaped the pollution of infidel hands; the case which contained it was
brought back, unopened, to Jerusalem, and Heraclius himself undertook a
journey in order to replace it in its former station on Mount Calvary.
The prelude to this religious ceremony was a general massacre of the
Jews, which the emperor had long withstood, but at length granted to the
earnest and renewed entreaties of the monks of Alsik. The fact itself,
and all its details, are so disgraceful to the parties concerned, that
I would gladly reject it as false or overcharged, did it not rest on
the authority of a patriarch of Alexandria.[7] Heraclius then, attended
by a solemn procession, but laying aside his diadem and purple, bore
the Cross on his own shoulders towards the holy sepulchre. An officer
was appointed to its peculiar care, with the title of STAUROPHULAX;[8]
and the anniversary of this event, the 14th September, is still
celebrated in the Greek Church as a festival, under the name of the
Exaltation of the Cross.
The relic did not long continue in the place to which the valour
and piety of Heraclius had restored it, but was doomed to undergo
still further vicissitudes of fortune. Only eight years afterwards
(A.D. 636,) an army of Arabs, the new and fervent proselytes of Mahomet,
invaded Palestine. At the battle of Yermuck, the imperial forces were
totally routed, and Heraclius, downcast and dismayed, returned to
Constantinople, bearing with him, as a source of consolation, the
invaluable fragment, whose alleged miraculous powers were never exerted
for its own protection.[9] It is rarely that, when a sovereign despairs
of success, his subjects have the courage (it would, perhaps, be termed
the disloyal presumption) to prolong their resistance; but the
inhabitants of Jerusalem were animated by religious zeal and local
associations, and did not, till after a doubtful siege of several
months, yield the holy city to the Saracens. The event soon justified
the prudent foresight of Heraclius in removing the Cross from the danger
of Mahometan masters. The Caliph of Omar experienced some difficulties
in the construction of a mosque at Jerusalem: he immediately supposed
those difficulties to be supernatural, and, by the advice of the Jews,
destroyed a great number of the neighbouring crosses; so that it seems
certain that the wood of the real crucifixion could still less have
escaped the effects of his ignorant fanaticism.[10] At Constantinople,
on the contrary, it was preserved with the utmost veneration in the
metropolitan church of St. Sophia, and the honours paid to it are
attested and described by the father of English historians.[11] Never,
but on the three most solemn festivals of the year, was its costly case
unclosed. On the first day, it received the adoration of the emperor and
principal officers of state; on the next, the empress and chief ladies
repeated the same ceremony; and the bishops and clergy were admitted on
the third. While exposed to view on the altar, a grateful odour pervaded
the whole church, and a fluid resembling oil distilled from the knots in
the wood, of which the least drop was thought sufficient to cure the
most inveterate disease. This precious fluid is also mentioned by Pope
Gregory, the Great, in one of his letters to Leontius. "I have received
your present," writes the Pope, "some oil of the Holy Cross and some
wood of aloes, of which the one confers blessing by its very touch,
and the other, when burnt, diffuses a pleasant perfume."[12]
In a period of several centuries, during which this relic remained at
Constantinople we find it occasionally mentioned in the annals of the
time. It was on the Holy Cross that Heracleonas swore to cherish and
defend his nephew;[13] it was to the same fragment that the son of
Justinian the Second clung for protection, in the revolution which
hurled his father from the throne;[14] and we might entertain more
respect for the superstition of the Greeks, if the supposed sanctity of
this relic had produced either the observance of the oath, or the safety
of the suppliant. At length, in the year 1078, the object of this
narrative recommenced its travels. A wealthy citizen of Amalfi, whose
name is not recorded, had long felt a wish to exchange active life for
the cloister, and had selected the monastery of Casinum as the place of
his future retirement. Being present in the Eastern capital during the
tumultuous deposition of Michael the Seventh, he perceived in the
general confusion a favourable opportunity for appropriating this
precious fragment to himself. His zeal did not forget at the same time
to secure the golden case, richly embossed with jewels, which contained
it, and both were laid as a welcome offering before the shrine of St.
Benedict, at Casinum.[15] The good fathers must have felt no little pride
when strangers beheld, in their secluded and obscure retreat, a relic
which a long succession of the most illustrious princes had gloried
in possessing.
The next place to which we can trace the Cross is Palestine, during the
crusades, to which it had doubtless been conveyed for the purpose of
restoring it to its more ancient and appropriate station, at Jerusalem.
In, that country it was exposed to frequent hazards, as the crusaders
appear to have been in the habit of bearing it in the van of their
armies, when marching against the Mussulmans, hoping by its presence
amongst them to secure the victory. One of their battles against the
forces of Saladin by no means fulfilled their expectations, and in the
course of it the sacred relic itself was unfortunately severed; one half
of it being captured by the enemy, and most probably destroyed.[16]
This untoward accident, however, by no means impaired their veneration
for the remaining fragment; and, at the commencement of the thirteenth
century, it is again recorded as taking the field with the King of
Hungary and the Duke of Austria.[17] From these it passed into the hands
of their brother crusaders, the Latin sovereigns of Constantinople; and
thus, by a singular train of circumstances, a change of dynasty restored
this precious relic to the people which had so long enjoyed its
possession. It does not, however, appear to have received the full
measure of its ancient veneration, and a new Crown of Thorns, alleged
to be that of the passion, held at this period a far higher rank with
the public.
In the year 1238, the pressure of poverty and impending ruin compelled
the Emperor Baldwin the Second, to sell what the piety of St. Louis,
King of France, induced him as eagerly to purchase.[18] A very
considerable sum was given in exchange for the holy wood and on its
arrival in Paris, it was deposited by King Louis in a chapel which he
built on this occasion. There, the Cross remained for above three
hundred years, until at length, on the 20th of May, 1575, it disappeared
from its station. The most anxious researches failed in tracing the
robber, or recovering the spoil, and the report which accused King Henry
the Third of having secretly sold it to the Venetians may be considered
as a proof of the popular animosity rather than of royal avarice.[19]
To appease in some degree the loud and angry murmurs of his subjects,
Henry, the next year, on Easter day, announced that a new Cross had been
prepared for their consolation, of the same shape, size, and appearance
as the stolen relic, and asserted, most probably with perfect truth,
that in Divine powers, or claim to religious worship, it was but little
inferior to its model. "The people of Paris," says Estoile, an
eye-witness of this transaction, "being very devout, and easy of faith
on such subjects" (he is speaking of the sixteenth century,) "gratefully
hailed the restoration of some tangible and immediate object for their
prayers." Of the original fragment I can discern no further authentic
trace; and here, then, it seems to have ended its long and adventurous
career.
Before I conclude, I ought, perhaps, to make some mention of the
pretended nails of the passion, which were obtained by Constantine the
Great at the same time with the cross. He melted a part of them into a
helmet for himself; and the other part was converted into a bridle for
his horse, in supposed obedience to a prophetic text of Zechariah:
"In that day shall there be upon the bells (bridles) of the horses,
holiness unto the Lord."[20] Yet, though the helmet alone might appear
to have required all the nails which could possibly be employed in a
crucifixion, it is not unusual in southern Europe to meet with fragments
of old iron, for which the same sacred origin is claimed. Thus, for
instance, at Catania, in Sicily, I have seen one of these nails, which
is believed to possess miraculous powers, and exhibited only once a year
with great solemnity. There is another in a private oratory of the
Escurial; and I was surprised in observing in the same case a relic of
Sir Thomas à Becket. All the nails, from the time of Constantine, are
rejected as spurious by Cardinal Baronius;[21] yet a former Pope had
expressed his belief in their authenticity;[22] and the ingenious idea
of miraculous vegetation might have been easily applied to them. But
to trace the other parts of this real or fabulous history, and more
especially their insertion in the Iron crown of Lombardy, would require,
though scarcely deserve, a separate essay.
[2] Read before the Royal Society of Literature, but since altered
by the author.
[3] For the discovery of the cross, compare Theodoret, lib. i. c.
18; Socrates, lib. i. c. 17; and Sozomen, lib. ii. c. 1, &c.
[4] De Vita Constant, lib. iii. c. 33.
[5] St. Cyril ap. Baronium, Annal. Eccles. A.D. 326, No. 50. One
whole epistle of St. Paulinis of Nola (the eleventh) is also
devoted to this subject.
[6] The participation of the Jews is positively asserted by
Eutychius (Annal. vol. ii. p. 212,) but doubted by Theophanes
(Chronograph, p. 252:) [Greek: os phasi tines], are his words.
[7] Eutychius, Annal, vol. ii. p. 242-247.
[8] Ducange, Gloss. Med. Graec., p. 1437.
[9] Theophanes, Chronograph. p. 280.
[10] Baronius, Annal. Eccles. A.D. 643. No. 1-4.
[11] Bede, Op. vol. iii. p. 370. Ed. Colon. Agripp. 1688.
[12] Epist, lib. 7. indict, i. ep. 34.
[13] Nicephor. Constantinopolit. p. 20.
[14] Theophanes, Chronograph. p. 318.
[15] Chronicon Casinense, lib. iii. c. 55.
[16] There is some account of its recovery by a Genoese, but it is
clouded with miracles. He walked over the sea, as over dry
land, &c. See Muraturi, Dissert. 58. vol. v. p. 10, ed. 1741.
[17] See Raynaldus, Aunual. Eccles. A.D. 1217, No. 39, and Pagi,
Critic. A.D. 1187, No. 4.
[18] See Dupleix, Historic de France, vol. ii. p. 257. ed. 1634.
The original authority is Nangis (Annales de St. Louis, p. 174.
ed. 1761.) Rigord, who speaks of the sale of this relic to
Philip Augustus, appears to be guilty of a fable or anachronism,
in which he was follow by Raynaldus, Annal. Eccles. A.D. 1205,
No. 60.
[19] See L'Estoile, Journal de Henri III., vol. i. p. 125, 161,
ed. 1744.
[20] Zech. ch. xiv. ver. 20.
[21] Annal. Eccles. A.D. 326. No. 54.
[22] See a Letter from Innocent VI. ap. Raynald Annal. Eccles. A.D.
1354. No. 18.
* * * * *
[To this class likewise belongs a Pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, from
the accomplished pen of Contarini Fleming. The lighter papers are tinged
with a high moral feeling; and we do not think that better evidence will
be found than in the following of Mrs. Hall's contributions.]