But such a simple conclusion to this apostle’s life would by no means
answer the purposes of the ancient writers on these matters; and
accordingly the inquirer into apostolic history is presented with a
long, long talk of Andrew’s journey into Europe, through Greece and
Thrace, where he is said to have founded many churches, undergone
many labors, and performed many miracles,――and at last to have been
crucified in a city of Greece. The brief, but decided condemnation of
all this imposition, however, is found in its absolute destitution of
proof, or of truly ancient authority. Not the most antique particular
of this tedious falsehood can be traced back to a date within two
hundred years of the time of the pretended journey; and the whole story
from beginning to end, was undoubtedly made up to answer the demands of
a credulous age, when, after the triumphant diffusion of Christianity
throughout the Roman empire, curiosity began to be greatly awakened
about the founders of the faith,――a curiosity too great to be satisfied
with the meager statements of the records of truth. Moreover, every
province of Christendom, following the example of the metropolis, soon
began to claim some one of the apostolic band, as having first preached
the gospel in its territories; and to substantiate these claims, it
was necessary to produce a record corresponding to the legend which at
first floated about only in the mouths of the inventors and propagators.
Accordingly, apocryphal gospels and histories were manufactured in vast
numbers, to meet this new demand, detailing long series of apostolic
labors and journeys, and commemorating martyrdoms in every civilized
country under heaven, from Britain to India. Among these, the Grecian
provinces must needs come in for their share of apostolic honor; and
Andrew was therefore given up to them, as a founder and martyr. The
numerous particulars of fictitious miracles and persecutions might be
amusing, but cannot deserve a place in this work, to the exclusion of
serious matters of fact. A cursory view of the fables, however, may be
allowed, even by these contracted limits.
The earliest story about Andrew is, that he was sent to Scythia
first, when the apostles divided the world into provinces of duty.
His route is said to have been through Greece, Epirus, and then
directly northward into Scythia. Another later writer however, makes
a different track for him, leading from Palestine into Asia Minor,
through Cappadocia, Galatia and Bithynia;――thence north through the
country of the cannibals and to the wild wastes of Scythia;――thence
south along the northern, western and southern shores of the Black sea,
to Byzantium, (now Constantinople,) and after some time, through Thrace,
southwestwards into Macedonia, Thessaly, and Achaia, in which last, his
life and labors are said to have ended. By the same author, he is also
in another passage said to have been driven from Byzantium by threats
of the persecution, and therefore to have crossed over the Black sea to
city of Argyropolis, on its southern coast, where he preached two years,
and constituted Stachys bishop of a church which he there founded; and
thence to Sinope in Paphlagonia. It is said by others that, on his
great northern journey, he went not only into Scythia but into Sogdiana,
(now Tartary,) and even to the Sacae, (near the borders of Thibet,) and
to India.
The earliest mention made of the apostle Andrew, by any writer
whatever, after the evangelists, is by Origen, (about A. D. 230
or 240,) who speaks of him as having been sent to the Scythians.
(Commentary on Genesis, 1. 3.) The passage is preserved only
in the Latin translation of his writings, the original Greek of
that part having been lost. The date of the original however,
is too late to deserve any credit. A story making its first
appearance nearly two centuries after the occurrence which it
commemorates, with no reference to authorities, is but poor
evidence. Eusebius (Church History, III. 1.) mentions barely
the same circumstance as Origen, (A. D. 315.) Gregory Nazianzen
(orat. in Ar.) is the first who says that Andrew went to Greece.
(A. D. 370.) Chrysostom also (Homily on xii. apostles) mentions
this. (A. D. 398.) Jerom (Script. Ecc.) quotes Sophronius, as
saying that Andrew went also to the Sogdians and Sacans. (A. D.
397.)
Augustin (the faith against Manichaeanism) is the first who
brings in very much from tradition, respecting Andrew; and his
stories are so numerous and entertaining in their particulars,
as to show that before his time, fiction had been most busily
at work with the apostles;――but the details are all of such a
character as not to deserve the slightest credit. The era of his
writings moreover, is so late, (A. D. 395,) that he along with
his contemporaries, Jerom and Chrysostom, may be condemned as
receivers of late traditions, and corrupters of the purity of
historical as well as sacred truth.
But the later writers go beyond these unsatisfactory generalities,
and enter into the most entertaining particulars, making out very
interesting and romantic stories. The monkish apostolical novelists,
of the fifth century and later, have given a great number of stories
about Andrew, inconsistent with the earlier accounts, with each other,
and with common sense. Indeed there is no great reason to think that
they were meant to be believed, but written very honestly as fictitious
compositions, to gratify the taste of the antique novel-readers. There
is therefore, really, no more obligation resting on the biographer of
the apostles to copy these fables, than on the historian of Scotland
to transcribe the details of the romances of Scott, Porter and others,
though a mere allusion to them might occasionally be proper. The most
serious and the least absurd of these fictions, is one which narrates
that, after having received the grace of the Holy Spirit by the gift
of fiery tongues, he was sent to the Gentiles with an allotted field of
duty. This was to go through Asia Minor, more especially the northern
parts, Cappadocia, Galatia and Bithynia. Having traversed these and
other countries as above stated, he settled in Achaia. Where, as in
the other provinces, during a stay of many years, he preached divine
discourses, and glorified the name of Christ by wonderful signs and
prodigies. At length he was seized by Aegeas, the Roman proconsul of
that province, and by him crucified, on the charge of having converted
to Christianity, Maximilla, the wife, and Stratocles, the brother of
the proconsul, so that they had learned to abhor that ruler’s
wickedness.
This story is from Nicephorus Callistus, a monk of the early
part of the fourteenth century. (See Lardner, Credibility of
Gospel History chapter 165.) He wrote an ecclesiastical history
of the period from the birth of Christ to the year 610, in which
he has given a vast number of utterly fabulous stories, adopting
all the fictions of earlier historians, and adding, as it would
seem, some new ones. His ignorance and folly are so great,
however, that he is not considered as any authority, even by
the Papist writers; for on this very story of Andrew, even
the credulous Baronius says, “Sed fide nutant haec, ob apertum
mendacium de Zeuzippo tyranno,” &c. “These things are unworthy
of credit, on account of the manifest lie about king Zeuzippus,
because there was no king in Thrace at that time, the province
being quietly ruled by a Roman president.” (Baronius, Annals, 44.
§ 31.) The story itself is in Nicephorus, Church History, II. 39.
One of the longest of these novels contains a series of incidents,
really drawn out with considerable interest, narrating mainly his
supposed adventures in Achaia, without many of the particulars of his
journey thither. It begins with simply announcing that, at the time
of the general dispersion of the apostles on their missionary tours,
Andrew began to preach in Achaia. but was soon after interrupted for
a time by an angelic call, to go a great distance, to a city called
Myrmidon, to help the apostle Matthew out of a scrape, that he had
fallen into of himself, but could not get out of without help. Where
in the world this place was, nobody can tell; for there is a great
clashing among the saintly authorities, whether it was in Scythia or
Ethiopia; and as the place is never mentioned by any body else, they
have the dispute all in their own hands. But since the story says
he went all the way by ship, from Achaia to the city, it would seem
most likely to have been in that part of Scythia which touched the
northeastern border of the Black sea. Having finished this business,
as will be elsewhere told, he went back towards Achaia, and resumed
the good works, but just begun, soon gathering around him a throng of
disciples. Walking out with them one day, he met a blind man, who made
the singular request that the apostle would _not_ restore him to sight,
though confessedly able, but simply give him some money, victuals and
clothes. The acute Andrew straightway smelt a devil, (and a mighty
silly one too,) in this queer speech, and declaring that these were not
the words of the blind man himself, but of a devil who had possessed
him, ordered the foolish demon to come out, and restored the man to
sight, supplying him also with clothes from the backs of his disciples.
The fame of this and other miracles spread far and fast, and the
consequence was that the apostle had as many calls as a rising quack
doctor. Every body that was in any sort of trouble or difficulty, came
to him as a thing of course, to get a miracle done to suit the case
exactly. A rich man who had lost a favorite slave, by death, had him
raised to life by Andrew. A young lad whose mother had wrongfully
accused him, before the proconsul, also called for help or advice;
――Andrew went into court and raised a terrible earthquake, with thunder
and lightning, whereby all present were knocked down to the ground,
and the wicked woman killed. The proconsul, as soon as he could get up,
became converted, with all who had shared in the tumble. The apostle
still increasing in business, soon had a call to Sinope, to see a whole
family who were in a very bad way,――the old gentleman, Cratinus by name,
being quite sick with a fever,――his wife afflicted with a dreadful
dropsy, and his son possessed with a devil. These were all healed, with
sundry charges about their secret sins, and some particulars as to the
mode of cure, not worth translating, since it reads better in Latin
than in English. He then went on through Asia to the city of Nicaea,
in Bithynia, where his arrival was hailed with a universal shout of joy
from the whole community, who were terribly pestered with seven naughty
devils, that had taken up their quarters among the tombs close to the
highway, where they sat with a large supply of grave-stones constantly
on hand, for no earthly purpose but to pelt decent people as they went
by, and doing it with such a vengeance that they had killed several
outright,――besides broken bones not counted. Andrew, after exacting
from the inhabitants a promise to become Christians if he cleared out
this nuisance, brought out the seven devils, in spite of themselves,
in the shape of dogs, before all the city; and after he had made them
a speech, (given in very bad Latin, in the story, as it stands,) the
whole seven gave a general yelp and ran off in the wilderness according
to Andrew’s direction. The inhabitants of course, were all baptized;
and Callistus was left bishop over them. Going on from Nicaea, Andrew
came next to Nicomedia, the capital, where he met a funeral procession
coming out of the city. Andrew immediately raised the dead person,――the
scene being evidently copied from that of the widow’s son raised
at Nain, considerably enlarged with new particulars. Going out from
Nicomedia, the apostle embarked on the Black sea, sailing to Byzantium.
On the passage there was occasion for a new miracle,――a great storm
arising, which was immediately stilled by the apostle. Going on from
Byzantium through Thrace, he came among a horde of savages, who made
a rush at him, with drawn swords. But Andrew _making the sign of the
cross_ at them, they all dropped their swords and fell flat. He then
passed over them, and went on through Thrace into Macedonia.
This story is _literally_ translated from one of the
“apostolical stories” of a monk of the middle ages, who passed
them off as true histories, written by Abdias, said to have been
one of the seventy disciples sent out by Jesus, (Luke x. 1,)
and to have been afterwards ordained bishop of Babylon, (by
Simon Zelotes and Jude.) It is an imposition so palpable however,
in its absurdities, that it has always been condemned by the
best authorities, both Protestant and Papist: as Melancthon,
Bellarmin, Scultetus, Rivetus, the ♦Magdeburg centuriators,
Baronius, Chemnitius, Tillemont, Vossius, and Bayle, whose
opinions and censures are most of them fully given in the
preface to the work itself, by Johann Albert Fabricius, (Codex
apocrypha of the New Testament, part 2.)
♦ “Magdeburgh” replaced with “Magdeburg”
Besides all these series of fictions on Andrew’s life, there are
others, quoted as having been written in the same department.
“The Passion of St. Andrew,” a quite late apocryphal story,
professing to have been written by the elders and deacons of the
churches of Achaia, was long extensively received by the Papists,
as an authentic and valuable book, and is quoted by the eloquent
and venerable Bernardus, with the most profound respect. It
abounds in long, tedious speeches, as well as painfully absurd
incidents. The “Menaei,” or Greek calendar of the saints, is
also copious on this apostle, but is too modern to deserve any
credit whatever. All the ancient fables and traditions were at
last collected into a huge volume, by a Frenchman named Andrew
de Saussay, who, in 1656, published at Paris, (in Latin,) a
book, entitled “Andrew, brother of Simon Peter, or, Twelve
Books on the Glory of Saint Andrew, the Apostle.” This book was
afterwards abridged, or largely borrowed from, by John Florian
Hammerschmid, in a treatise, (in Latin,) published at Prague, in
1699,――entitled “The Apostolic Cross-bearer, or, St. Andrew, the
Apostle, described and set forth, in his life, death, martyrdom,
miracles and discourses.”――Baillet’s Lives of the Saints, (in
French,) also contains a full account of the most remarkable
details of these fables. (Baillet, Vies de Saints, Vol. I.
February 9th.)
By following these droll stories through all their details, the life
of Andrew might easily be made longer than that of Peter; but the
character of this work would be much degraded from its true historical
dignity by such contents. The monkish novels and romances would
undoubtedly make a very amusing, and in some senses, an instructive
book; and a volume as large as this might be easily filled with these
tales. But this extract will serve very well as a specimen of their
general character. A single passage farther, may however be presented,
giving a somewhat interesting fictitious account of his crucifixion.
After innumerable works of wonder, Andrew had come at last to Patras,
a city in the northwestern part of Achaia, still known by that name,
standing on the gulf of Lepanto, famous in modern Greek history as
the scene of a desperate struggle with the Turks, during a long siege,
in the war of Grecian independence. In this city, as the fable states,
then resided the Roman proconsul of the province, whose name is
variously given by different story-tellers; by some, Aegeas,――by
others, Aegeates and Aegeatus, and by others, Egetes. The apostle was
soon called on to visit his family, by a female servant, who had been
converted by the preaching of one of Andrew’s disciples. She, coming
to Andrew, fell at his feet, clasping them, and besought him in the
name of the proconsul’s wife, Maximilla, her mistress, then very sick
with a fever, to come to her house, that she might hear from him the
gospel. The apostle went, therefore, and on entering the room found the
proconsul in such an agony of despair about the sickness of his beloved
wife, that he had at that moment drawn his sword to kill himself.
Andrew immediately cried out, “Proconsul! do thyself no harm; but put
up thy sword into its place, for the present. There will be a time for
you to exercise it upon us, soon.” The ruler, without perceiving the
point of the remark, gave way, in obedience to the word of the apostle.
He then, drawing nigh the bed of the invalid, after some discourse,
took hold of her hand, when she was immediately covered with a profuse
sweat, the symptoms being all relieved and the fever broken up. As
soon as the proconsul saw the wonderful change, he, in a spirit of
liberal remuneration, which deserves the gratitude of the whole medical
profession, ordered to be paid to the holy man the liberal fee of one
hundred pieces of silver; but not appreciating this liberality, Andrew
decidedly refused to receive any pay at all, not choosing to render
such medical services with the view of any compensation, and would not
so much as look at it,――exciting no small astonishment in the proconsul
by such extraordinary disinterestedness. The apostle then leaving the
palace, went on through the city, relieving the most miserable beggars
lying in the dirt, with the same good will which he had shown in the
family of the ruler. Passing on, he came to the water-side, and there
finding a poor, wretched, dirty sailor, lying on the ground, covered
with sores and vermin, cured him directly, lifted him up, and taking
him into the water, close by, gave him a good washing, which at the
same time served for both body and soul,――for the apostle at once
making it answer for a baptism, pronounced him pure in the name of the
Trinity. Soon after this occurrence, which gained him great fame, he
was called to relieve a boy belonging to Stratocles, the brother of
the proconsul, the apostle having been recommended to him as a curer of
diseases, by Maximilla and her maid. The devil having been, of course,
cast out of the boy, Stratocles believed, as did his brother’s wife,
who was so desirous of hearing the apostle preach, that at last she
took advantage of her husband’s absence in Macedonia, and had regular
religious meetings in her husband’s great hall of state, where he
held his courts,――quite an extraordinary liberty for any man’s wife
to take with his affairs, behind his back. It happened at last, that
the unsuspecting gentleman suddenly returned, when his wife had not
expected him, and would have immediately burst into the room, then
thronged with a great number of all sorts of people; but Andrew,
foreseeing what was about to happen, managed, by a queer kind of
miracle, to make it convenient for him to go somewhere else for a
while, until every one of the audience having been made invisible with
_the sign of the cross_, by Andrew, sneaked off unseen; so that the
deceived proconsul, when he came in, never suspected what tricks had
been played on him. Maximilla, being now prevented by her husband’s
return from having any more meetings in his house, afterwards resorted
to the apostle’s lodgings, where the Christians constantly met to hear
him,――and became at last so assiduous in her attendance by day and by
night, that her husband began to grow uneasy about her unseasonable
absences, because he had no sort of pleasure with her since she had
been so given up to her mysterious occupations, away from him almost
constantly. He accordingly began to investigate the difficulty, and
finding that it was the work of Andrew, who had been teaching the
lady a new religion, which wholly absorbed her in devotion, to the
exclusion of all enjoyment with her family, sent for him, and commanded
him to take his choice between renouncing his troublesome faith, and
crucifixion. But the apostle indignantly and intrepidly declared his
readiness to maintain the doctrine of Jesus Christ, through all peril,
and even to death, and then went on to give the sum and substance
of his creed. The unyielding proconsul however, put him in prison
immediately, where Andrew occupied himself all night in exhorting his
disciples to stand fast in the faith. Being brought the next day before
the proconsul’s tribunal, he renewed his refusal to sacrifice to idols,
and was therefore dragged away to the cross, after receiving twenty-one
lashes. The proconsul, enraged at his pertinacity, ordered him to be
bound to the cross, instead of being nailed in the usual way;――(a very
agreeable exchange, it would seem, for any one would rather have his
hands and feet tied with a cord to a cross, than be nailed to it;
and it is hard to see how this could operate to increase his torture,
otherwise than by keeping him there till he starved to death.) On
coming in sight of the cross, he burst out into an eloquent strain of
joy and exultation, while yet at some distance,――exclaiming as they
bore him along, “Hail! O cross! consecrated by the body of Christ, and
adorned with the pearls of his precious limbs! I come to thee confident
and rejoicing, and do thou receive, with exultation, the disciple of
him who once hung on thee, since I have long been thy lover and have
longed to embrace thee. Hail! O cross! that now art satisfied, though
long wearied with waiting for me. O good cross! that hast acquired
grace and beauty from the limbs of the Lord! long-desired and dearly
loved! sought without ceasing, and long foreseen with wishful mind!
take me from men and give me back to my Master, that by thee He may
receive me, who by thee has redeemed me.” After this personifying
address to the inanimate wood, he gave himself up to the executioners,
who stripped him, and bound his hands and feet as had been directed,
thus suspending him on the cross. Around the place of execution stood
a vast throng of sympathizing beholders, numbering not less than twenty
thousand persons, to whom the apostle, unmoved by the horrors which
so distressed them, now coolly addressed them in the words of life,
though himself on the verge of death. For two days and nights, in this
situation, in fasting and agony, he yet continued without a moment’s
cessation to exhort the multitude who were constantly thronging to
the strange sight; till at last, on the third day, the whole city,
moved beyond all control, by the miracle of energy and endurance,
rushed in one mass to the proconsul, and demanded the liberation of
the God-sustained apostle. The ferocious tyrant, overawed by the solemn
power of the demand, coming from such an excited multitude, at last
yielded; and to the great joy of the people, went out to the cross to
release the holy sufferer, at the sight of whose enraptured triumph
over pain and terror, the hard-hearted tyrant himself melted, and in
sorrow and penitence he drew near the cross to exercise his new-born
mercy. But Andrew, already on the eve of a martyr’s triumph, would
not bear to be snatched back from such glories so nearly attained; and
in earnest remonstrance cried out, praying, “O Lord Jesus Christ! do
not suffer thy servant, who for thy name’s sake hangs on the cross, to
be thus freed,――nor let me, O merciful God! when now clinging to thy
mysteries, be given up again to human conversations. But take thou me,
my Master! whom I have loved,――whom I have known,――whom I hold,――whom
I long to see,――in whom I am what I am. Let me die then, O Jesus,
good and merciful.” And having said these things for so long a
time,――praising God and rejoicing, he breathed out his soul, amid the
tears and groans of all the beholders.
Here ends the tale of the fictitious Abdias Babylonius, of
which this concluding abstract is another _literal_ specimen,
presenting its most effective part in the pathetic line, as the
former does of its ludicrous portions. The story of Andrew is
altogether the longest and best constructed, as well as the most
interesting in the character of its incidents, of all contained
in the book of the Pseudo-Abdias; and I have therefore been more
liberal in extracts from this, because it would leave little
occasion for any similar specimens under the lives of the rest
of the apostles.
All this long story may, very possibly, have grown up from a
beginning which was true; that is, there may have been another
Andrew, who, in a later age of the early times of Christianity,
may have gone over those regions as a missionary, and met with
somewhat similar adventures; and who was afterwards confounded
with the apostle Andrew. The Scotch, for some reason or other,
formerly adopted Andrew as their national saint, and represent
him on a cross of a peculiar shape, resembling the letter X,
known in heraldry by the name of a _saltier_, and borne on the
badges of the knights of the Scottish order of the Thistle, to
this day. This idea of his cross, however, has originated since
the beginning of the twelfth century, as I shall show by a
passage from Bernardus.
The truly holy Bernard, (Abbot of Clairvaux, in France, A. D.
1112,) better worthy of the title of _Saint_ than ninety-nine
hundredths of all the canonized who lived before him, even
from apostolic days,――has, among his splendid sermons, three
most eloquent discourses, preached in his abbey church, on St.
Andrew’s day, in which he alludes to the actions of this apostle,
as recorded in the “Passion of St. Andrew,”――a book which he
seems to quote as worthy of credit. In Latin of Ciceronian
purity, he has given some noble specimens of a pulpit eloquence,
rarely equalled in any modern language, and such as never
blesses the ears of the hearers of these days. He begins
his first discourse on this subject with saying, that in
“celebrating the glorious triumphs of the blessed Andrew,
they had that day been delighted with the words of grace, that
proceeded out of his mouth;”――(doubtless in hearing the story of
the crucifixion read from the fictitious book of the Passion of
St. Andrew, which all supposed to be authentic.) “For there was
no room for sorrow, where he himself was so intensely rejoiced.
No one of us mourned for him in his sufferings, for no one dared
to weep over him, while he was thus exulting. So that he might
most appropriately say to us, what the cross-bearing Redeemer
said to those who followed him with mourning,――‘Weep not for me;
but weep for yourselves.’ And when the blessed Andrew himself
was led to the cross, and the people, grieving for the unjust
condemnation of the holy and just man, would have prevented his
execution,――he, with the most urgent prayer, forbade them from
depriving him of his crown of suffering. For ‘he desired indeed
to be released, and to be with Christ,’――but on the cross;
he desired to enter the kingdom,――but by the door. Even as he
said to that loved form, ‘that by thee, he may receive me, who
by thee has redeemed me.’ Therefore if we love him, we shall
rejoice with him; not only because he was crowned, but because
he was crucified.” (A bad, and unscriptural doctrine! for no
apostle ever taught, or was taught, that it was worth while for
any man to be crucified, when he could well help it.)
In his second sermon on the same subject, the animated Bernard
remarks furthermore, in comment on the behavior of Andrew, when
coming in sight of his cross,――“You have certainly heard how the
blessed Andrew was stayed on the Lord, when he came to the place
where the cross was made ready for him,――and how, by the spirit
which he had received along with the other apostles, in the
_fiery tongues_, he spoke truly fiery words. And so, seeing from
afar the cross prepared, he did not turn pale, though mortal
weakness might seem to demand it; his blood did not freeze,――his
hair did not rise,――his voice did not cleave to his throat, (non
stetere comae, aut vox faucibus haesit.) Out of the abundance of
his heart, his mouth did speak; and the deep love which glowed
in his heart, sent forth the words like burning sparks.” He
then quotes the speech of Andrew to the cross, as above given,
and proceeds: “I beseech you, brethren, say, is this a man who
speaks thus? Is it not an angel, or some new creature? No: it
is merely a ‘man of like passions with ourselves.’ For the very
agony itself, in whose approach he thus rejoiced, proves him
to have been ‘a man of passion.’ Whence, then, in man, this new
exultation, and joy before unheard of? Whence, in man, a mind so
spiritual,――a love so fervent,――a courage so strong? Far would
it be from the apostle himself, to wish, that we should give the
glory of such grace to him. It is the ‘perfect gift, coming down
from the Father of Lights,’――from him, ‘who alone does wondrous
things.’ It was, dearly beloved, plainly, ‘the spirit which
helpeth our infirmities,’ by which was shed abroad in his heart,
a love, strong as death,――yea, and stronger than death. Of which,
O may we too be found partakers!”
The preacher then goes on with the practical application of the
view of these sufferings, and the spirit that sustained them,
to the circumstances of his hearers. After some discourse to
this effect, he exhorts them to seek this spirit. “Seek it then,
dearest! seek it without ceasing,――seek it without doubting;――in
all your works invoke the aid of this spirit. For we also,
my brethren, with the blessed Andrew, must needs take up our
cross,――yea, with that Savior-Lord whom he followed. For, in
this he rejoiced,――in this he exulted;――because not only for him,
but with him, he would seem to die, and be planted, so ‘that
suffering with him, he might also reign with him.’ With whom,
that we may also be crucified, let us hear more attentively
with the ears of our hearts, the voice of him who says, ‘He who
will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross,
and follow me.’ As if he said, ‘Let him who desires me, despise
himself: let him who would do my will, learn to break his own.’”
Bernard then draws a minute parallel, more curious than
admirable, between the cross and the trials of life,――likening
the four difficulties in the way of holiness, to the four ends
of the cross; bodily fear being the foot-piece; open assaults
and temptations, the right arm-piece; secret sins and trials,
the left hand-piece; and spiritual pride, the head-piece. Or, as
he briefly recapitulates, the four virtues attached to the four
horns of the cross, are these:――continence, patience, prudence,
and humility. A truly forcible figure, and one not without its
effect, doubtless, on the hearers. This arrangement of the cross,
moreover, seems to prove, that in the time of Bernard, the idle
story about Andrew’s cross being shaped like the letter X, was
entirely unknown; for it is evident that the whole point of
the allusion here consists in the hearers supposing that Andrew
was crucified on a cross of the common shape,――upright, with a
transverse bar and head-piece.
In conclusion of all this fabulous detail, may be appropriately
quoted the closing passage of the second discourse of Bernard,
the spirit of which, though coming from a Papist, is not
discordant with the noblest essential principles of truly
catholic Christianity, seldom indeed, found so pure in the
Romish church, as in this “Last of the Fathers,” as he has been
justly styled. This, with all the passages above quoted, may be
found by those who can enjoy the original, in his works. (Divi
Bernardi Opera Omnia Joh. Picard. Antwerp, 1609, folio; columns
322‒333.)
So accordant are these words with the spirit which it becomes
this work to inculcate, that I may well adopt them into the text,
glad to hang a moral to the end of so much falsehood, though
drawn from such a theme, that it seems like “gathering grapes of
thorns, or figs of thistles.”
Bernard has in this part of his discourse been completing
all the details of his parallel between the cross and the
Christian’s life, and in this conclusion, thus crowns the simile,
by exhorting his saintly hearers to cling, each to his own cross,
in spite of all temptation to renounce it; that is, to persevere
in daily crucifying their sins, by a pure deportment through
life.
Happy the soul that glories and triumphs on this cross, if it only
persevere, and do not let itself be cast down in its trials. Let every
one then, who is on this cross, like the blessed Andrew, pray his Lord
and Master, not to let him be taken down from it. For what is there
which the malign adversary will not dare? what will he not impiously
presume to try? For what he thought to do to the disciple by the hands
of Aegeas, the same he once thought to do to the Master by the scornful
tongues of the Jews. In each instance alike, however, driven by too
late experience of his folly, he departed, vanquished and confounded.
O may he in like manner depart from us, conquered by Him who triumphed
over him by Himself, and by His disciple. May He cause, that we also
may attain the same happy end, on the crosses which we have borne, each
one in his own peculiar trials, for the glory of His name, “who is God
over all, blessed forever.”
JAMES BOANERGES;
THE SON OF ZEBEDEE.