Emperor in St. Peter's on Christmas Day, A.D. 800, and known to
posterity as the Great (chiefly by his agglutinative Gallicised
denomination of Charlemagne), was a man great in all ways, physically
and mentally. Within a couple of centuries after his death Charlemagne
became the centre of innumerable legends; and the myth-making process
does not seem to have been sensibly interfered with by the existence of
sober and truthful histories of the Emperor and of the times which
immediately preceded and followed his reign, by a contemporary writer
who occupied a high and confidential position in his court, and in that
of his successor. This was one Eginhard, or Einhard, who appears to have
been born about A.D. 770, and spent his youth at the court, being
educated along with Charles's sons. There is excellent contemporary
testimony not only to Eginhard's existence, but to his abilities, and to
the place which he occupied in the circle of the intimate friends of the
great ruler whose life he subsequently wrote. In fact, there is as good
evidence of Eginhard's existence, of his official position, and of his
being the author of the chief works attributed to him, as can reasonably
be expected in the case of a man who lived more than a thousand years
ago, and was neither a great king nor a great warrior. The works
are--1. "The Life of the Emperor Karl." 2. "The Annals of the Franks."
3. "Letters." 4. "The History of the Translation of the Blessed Martyrs
of Christ, SS. Marcellinus and Petrus."
It is to the last, as one of the most singular and interesting records
of the period during which the Roman world passed into that of the
Middle Ages, that I wish to direct attention.[15] It was written in the
ninth century, somewhere, apparently, about the year 830, when Eginhard,
ailing in health and weary of political life, had withdrawn to the
monastery of Seligenstadt, of which he was the founder. A manuscript
copy of the work, made in the tenth century, and once the property of
the monastery of St. Bavon on the Scheldt, of which Eginhard was abbot,
is still extant, and there is no reason to believe that, in this copy,
the original has been in any way interpolated or otherwise tampered
with. The main features of the strange story contained in the "Historia
Translations" are set forth in the following pages, in which, in regard
to all matters of importance, I shall adhere as closely as possible to
Eginhard's own words.
While I was still at Court, busied with secular affairs, I often
thought of the leisure which I hoped one day to enjoy in a solitary
place, far away from the crowd, with which the liberality of Prince
Louis, whom I then served, had provided me. This place is situated
in that part of Germany which lies between the Neckar and the
Maine,[16] and is nowadays called the Odenwald by those who live in
and about it. And here having built, according to my capacity and
resources, not only houses and permanent dwellings, but also a
basilica fitted for the performance of divine service and of no
mean style of construction, I began to think to what saint or
martyr I could best dedicate it. A good deal of time had passed
while my thoughts fluctuated about this matter, when it happened
that a certain deacon of the Roman Church, named Deusdona, arrived
at the Court for the purpose of seeking the favour of the King in
some affairs in which he was interested. He remained some time; and
then, having transacted his business, he was about to return to
Rome, when one day, moved by courtesy to a stranger, we invited him
to a modest refection; and while talking of many things at table,
mention was made of the translation of the body of the blessed
Sebastian,[17] and of the neglected tombs of the martyrs, of which
there is such a prodigious number at Rome; and the conversation
having turned towards the dedication of our new basilica, I began
to inquire how it might be possible for me to obtain some of the
true relics of the saints which rest at Rome. He at first
hesitated, and declared that he did not know how that could be
done. But observing that I was both anxious and curious about the
subject, he promised to give me an answer some other day.
When I returned to the question some time afterwards, he
immediately drew from his bosom a paper, which he begged me to read
when I was alone, and to tell him what I was disposed to think of
that which was therein stated. I took the paper and, as he desired,
read it alone and in secret. (Cap. 1, 2, 3.)
I shall have occasion to return to Deacon Deusdona's conditions, and to
what happened after Eginhard's acceptance of them. Suffice it, for the
present, to say that Eginhard's notary, Ratleicus (Ratleig), was
despatched to Rome and succeeded in securing two bodies, supposed to be
those of the holy martyrs Marcellinus and Petrus; and when he had got as
far on his homeward journey as the Burgundian town of Solothurn, or
Soleure,[18] notary Ratleig despatched to his master, at St. Bavon, a
letter announcing the success of his mission.
As soon as by reading it I was assured of the arrival of the
saints, I despatched a confidential messenger to Maestricht to
gather together priests, other clerics, and also laymen, to go out
to meet the coming saints as speedily as possible. And he and his
companions, having lost no time, after a few days met those who had
charge of the saints at Solothurn. Joined with them, and with a
vast crowd of people who gathered from all parts, singing hymns,
and amidst great and universal rejoicings, they travelled quickly
to the city of Argentoratum, which is now called Strasburg. Thence
embarking on the Rhine, they came to the place called Portus,[19]
and landing on the east bank of the river, at the fifth station
thence they arrived at Michilinstadt,[20] accompanied by an immense
multitude, praising God. This place is in that forest of Germany
which in modern times is called the Odenwald, and about six leagues
from the Maine. And here, having found a basilica recently built by
me, but not yet consecrated, they carried the sacred remains into
it and deposited them therein, as if it were to be their final
resting-place. As soon as all this was reported to me I travelled
thither as quickly as I could. (Cap. ii. 14.)
Three days after Eginhard's arrival began the series of wonderful events
which he narrates, and for which we have his personal guarantee. The
first thing that he notices is the dream of a servant of Ratleig, the
notary, who, being set to watch the holy relics in the church after
vespers, went to sleep and, during his slumbers, had a vision of two
pigeons, one white and one gray and white, which came and sat upon the
bier over the relics; while, at the same time, a voice ordered the man
to tell his master that the holy martyrs had chosen another
resting-place and desired to be transported thither without delay.
Unfortunately, the saints seem to have forgotten to mention where they
wished to go; and, with the most anxious desire to gratify their
smallest wishes, Eginhard was naturally greatly perplexed what to do.
While in this state of mind, he was one day contemplating his "great and
wonderful treasure, more precious than all the gold in the world," when
it struck him that the chest in which the relics were contained was
quite unworthy of its contents; and, after vespers, he gave orders to
one of the sacristans to the measure of the chest in order a more
fitting shrine might be constructed. The man, having lighted a candle
and raised the pall which covered the relics, in order to carry out his
master's orders, was astonished and terrified to observe that the chest
was covered with a blood-like exudation (_loculum mirum in modum humore
sanguineo undique distillantem_), and at once sent a message to
Eginhard.
Then I and those priests who accompanied me beheld this stupendous
miracle, worthy of all admiration. For just as when it is going to
rain, pillars and slabs and marble images exude moisture, and, as
it were, sweat, so the chest which contained the most sacred relics
was found moist with the blood exuding on all sides. (Cap. ii. 16.)
Three days' fast was ordained in order that the meaning of the portent
might be ascertained. All that happened, however, was that, at the end
of that time, the "blood," which had been exuding in drops all the
while, dried up. Eginhard is careful to say that the liquid "had a
saline taste, something like that of tears, and was thin as water,
though of the colour of true blood," and he clearly thinks this
satisfactory evidence that it was blood.
The same night, another servant had a vision, in which still more
imperative orders for the removal of the relics were given; and, from
that time forth, "not a single night passed without one, two, or even
three of our companions receiving revelations in dreams that the bodies
of the saints were to be transferred from that place to another." At
last a priest, Hildfrid, saw, in a dream, a venerable white-haired man
in a priest's vestments, who bitterly reproached Eginhard for not
obeying the repeated orders of the saints; and, upon this, the journey
was commenced. Why Eginhard delayed obedience to these repeated visions
so long does not appear. He does not say so, in so many words, but the
general tenor of the narrative leads one to suppose that Mulinheim
(afterwards Seligenstadt) is the "solitary place" in which he had built
the church which awaited dedication. In that case, all the people about
him would know that he desired that the saints should go there. If a
glimmering of secular sense led him to be a little suspicious about the
real cause of the unanimity of the visionary beings who manifested
themselves to his _entourage_ in favour of moving on, he does not say
so.
At the end of the first day's journey, the precious relics were
deposited in the church of St. Martin, in the village of Ostheim.
Hither, a paralytic nun (_sanctimonialis quædam paralytica_) of the name
of Ruodlang was brought, in a car, by her friends and relatives from a
monastery a league off. She spent the night watching and praying by the
bier of the saints; "and health returning to all her members, on the
morrow she went back to her place whence she came, on her feet, nobody
supporting her, or in any way giving her assistance." (Cap. ii. 19.)
On the second day, the relics were carried to Upper Mulinheim; and,
finally, in accordance with the orders of the martyrs, deposited in the
church of that place, which was therefore renamed Seligenstadt. Here,
Daniel, a beggar boy of fifteen, and so bent that "he could not look at
the sky without lying on his back," collapsed and fell down during the
celebration of the Mass.
"Thus he lay a long time, as if asleep, and all his limbs straightening
and his flesh strengthening (_recepta firmitate nervorum_), he arose
before our eyes, quite well." (Cap. ii. 20.)
Some time afterwards an old man entered the church on his hands and
knees, being unable to use his limbs properly:--
He, in presence of all of us, by the power of God and the merits of
the blessed martyrs, in the same hour in which he entered was so
perfectly cured that he walked without so much as a stick. And he
said that, though he had been deaf for five years, his deafness had
ceased along with the palsy. (Cap. iii. 33.)
Eginhard was now obliged to return to the Court at Aix-la-Chapelle,
where his duties kept him through the winter; and he is careful to point
out that the later miracles which he proceeds to speak of are known to
him only at second hand. But, as he naturally observes, having seen such
wonderful events with his own eyes, why should he doubt similar
narrations when they are received from trustworthy sources?
Wonderful stories these are indeed, but as they are, for the most part,
of the same general character as those already recounted, they may be
passed over. There is, however, an account of a possessed maiden which
is worth attention. This is set forth in a memoir, the principal
contents of which are the speeches of a demon who declared himself to
possess the singular appellation of "Wiggo," and revealed himself in the
presence of many witnesses, before the altar, close to the relics of the
blessed martyrs. It is noteworthy that the revelations appear to have
been made in the shape of replies to the questions of the exorcising
priest; and there is no means of judging how far the answers are,
really, only the questions to which the patient replied yes or no.
The possessed girl, about sixteen years of age, was brought by her
parents to the basilica of the martyrs.
When she approached the tomb containing the sacred bodies, the
priest, according to custom, read the formula of exorcism over her
head. When he began to ask how and when the demon had entered her,
she answered, not in the tongue of the barbarians, which alone the
girl knew, but in the Roman tongue. And when the priest was
astonished and asked how she came to know Latin, when her parents,
who stood by, were wholly ignorant of it, "Thou hast never seen my
parents," was the reply. To this the priest, "Whence art thou,
then, if these are not thy parents?" And the demon, by the mouth of
the girl, "I am a follower and disciple of Satan, and for a long
time I was gatekeeper (janitor) in hell; but, for some years, along
with eleven companions, I have ravaged the kingdom of the Franks."
(Cap. v. 49.)
He then goes on to tell how they blasted the crops and scattered
pestilence among beasts and men, because of the prevalent wickedness of
the people.[21]
The enumeration of all these iniquities, in oratorical style, takes up a
whole octavo page; and at the end it is stated, "All these things the
demon spoke in Latin by the mouth of the girl."
And when the priest imperatively ordered him to come out, "I shall
go," said he, "not in obedience to you, but on account of the power
of the saints, who do not allow me to remain any longer." And,
having said this, he threw the girl down on the floor and there
compelled her to lie prostrate for a time, as though she slumbered.
After a little while, however, he going away, the girl, by the
power of Christ and the merits of the blessed martyrs, as it were
awaking from sleep, rose up quite well, to the astonishment of all
present; nor after the demon had gone out was she able to speak
Latin: so that it was plain enough that it was not she who had
spoken in that tongue, but the demon by her mouth. (Cap. v. 51.)
If the "Historia Translations" contained nothing more than has been laid
before the reader, up to this time, disbelief in the miracles of which
it gives so precise and full a record might well be regarded as
hyper-scepticism. It might fairly be said, Here you have a man, whose
high character, acute intelligence, and large instruction are certified
by eminent contemporaries; a man who stood high in the confidence of one
of the greatest rulers of any age, and whose other works prove him to be
an accurate and judicious narrator of ordinary events. This man tells
you, in language which bears the stamp of sincerity, of things which
happened within his own knowledge, or within that of persons in whose
veracity he has entire confidence, while he appeals to his sovereign and
the court as witnesses of others; what possible ground can there be for
disbelieving him?
Well, it is hard upon Eginhard to say so, but it is exactly the honesty
and sincerity of the man which are his undoing as a witness to the
miraculous. He himself makes it quite obvious that when his profound
piety comes on the stage, his good sense and even his perception of
right and wrong, make their exit. Let us go back to the point at which
we left him, secretly perusing the letter of Deacon Deusdona. As he
tells us, its contents were
that he [the deacon] had many relics of saints at home, and that he
would give them to me if I would furnish him with the means of
returning to Rome; he had observed that I had two mules, and if I
would let him have one of them and would despatch with him a
confidential servant to take charge of the relics, he would at once
send them to me. This plausibly expressed proposition pleased me,
and I made up my mind to test the value of the somewhat ambiguous
promise at once;[22] so giving him the mule and money for his
journey I ordered my notary Ratleig (who already desired to go to
Rome to offer his devotions there) to go with him. Therefore,
having left Aix-la-Chapelle (where the Emperor and his Court
resided at the time) they came to Soissons. Here they spoke with
Hildoin, abbot of the monastery of St. Medardus, because the said
deacon had assured him that he had the means of placing in his
possession the body of the blessed Tiburtius the Martyr. Attracted
by which promises he (Hildoin) sent with them a certain priest,
Hunus by name, a sharp man (_hominem callidum_), whom he ordered to
receive and bring back the body of the martyr in question. And so,
resuming their journey, they proceeded to Rome as fast as they
could. (Cap. i. 3.)
Unfortunately, a servant of the notary, one Reginbald, fell ill of a
tertian fever, and impeded the progress of the party. However, this
piece of adversity had its sweet uses; for three days before they
reached Rome, Reginbald had a vision. Somebody habited as a deacon
appeared to him and asked why his master was in such a hurry to get to
Rome; and when Reginbald explained their business, this visionary
deacon, who seems to have taken the measure of his brother in the flesh
with some accuracy, told him not by any means to expect that Deusdona
would fulfil his promises. Moreover, taking the servant by the hand, he
led him to the top of a high mountain and, showing him Rome (where the
man had never been), pointed out a church, adding "Tell Ratleig the
thing he wants is hidden there; let him get it as quickly as he can and
go back to his master." By way of a sign that the order was
authoritative, the servant was promised that, from that time forth, his
fever should disappear. And as the fever did vanish to return no more,
the faith of Eginhard's people in Deacon Deusdona naturally vanished
with it (_et fidem diaconi promissis non haberent_). Nevertheless, they
put up at the deacon's house near St. Peter ad Vincula. But time went on
and no relics made their appearance, while the notary and the priest
were put off with all sorts of excuses--the brother to whom the relics
had been confided was gone to Beneventum and not expected back for some
time, and so on--until Ratleig and Hunus began to despair, and were
minded to return, _infecto negotio_.
But my notary, calling to mind his servant's dream, proposed to his
companion that they should go to the cemetery which their host had
talked about without him. So, having found and hired a guide, they
went in the first place to the basilica of the blessed Tiburtius in
the Via Labicana, about three thousand paces from the town, and
cautiously and carefully inspected the tomb of that martyr, in
order to discover whether it could be opened without any one being
the wiser. Then they descended into the adjoining crypt, in which
the bodies of the blessed martyrs of Christ, Marcellinus and
Petrus, were buried; and, having made out the nature of their tomb,
they went away thinking their host would not know what they had
been about. But things fell out differently from what they had
imagined. (Cap. i. 7.)
In fact, Deacon Deusdona, who doubtless kept an eye on his guests, knew
all about their manoeuvres and made haste to offer his services, in
order that, "with the help of God" (_si Deus votis eorum favere
dignaretur_), they should all work together. The deacon was evidently
alarmed less they should succeed without _his_ help.
So, by way of preparation for the contemplated _vol avec affraction_
they fasted three days; and then, at night, without being seen, they
betook themselves to the basilica of St. Tiburtius, and tried to break
open the altar erected over his remains. But the marble proving too
solid, they descended to the crypt, and, "having evoked our Lord Jesus
Christ and adored the holy martyrs," they proceeded to prise off the
stone which covered the tomb, and thereby exposed the body of the most
sacred martyr, Marcellinus, "whose head rested on a marble tablet on
which his name was inscribed." The body was taken up with the greatest
veneration, wrapped in a rich covering, and given over to the keeping of
the deacon and his brother, Lunison, while the stone was replaced with
such care that no sign of the theft remained.
As sacrilegious proceedings of this kind were punishable with death by
the Roman law, it seems not unnatural that Deacon Deusdona should have
become uneasy, and have urged Ratleig to be satisfied with what he had
got and be off with his spoils. But the notary having thus cleverly
captured the blessed Marcellinus, thought it a pity he should be parted
from the blessed Petrus, side by side with whom he had rested, for five
hundred years and more, in the same sepulchre (as Eginhard pathetically
observes); and the pious man could neither eat, drink, nor sleep, until
he had compassed his desire to re-unite the saintly colleagues. This
time, apparently in consequence of Deusdona's opposition to any further
resurrectionist doings, he took counsel with a Greek monk, one Basil,
and, accompanied by Hunus, but saying nothing to Deusdona, they
committed another sacrilegious burglary, securing this time, not only
the body of the blessed Petrus, but a quantity of dust, which they
agreed the priest should take, and tell his employer that it was the
remains of the blessed Tiburtius. How Deusdona was "squared," and what
he got for his not very valuable complicity in these transactions, does
not appear. But at last the relics were sent off in charge of Lunison,
the brother of Deusdona, and the priest Hunus, as far as Pavia, while
Ratleig stopped behind for a week to see if the robbery was discovered,
and, presumably, to act as a blind, if any hue and cry was raised. But,
as everything remained quiet, the notary betook himself to Pavia, where
he found Lunison and Hunus awaiting his arrival. The notary's opinion of
the character of his worthy colleagues, however, may be gathered from
the fact that having persuaded them to set out in advance along a road
which he told them he was about to take, he immediately adopted another
route, and, travelling by way of St. Maurice and the Lake of Geneva,
eventually reached Soleure.
Eginhard tells all this story with the most naive air of unconsciousness
that there is anything remarkable about an abbot, and a high officer of
state to boot, being an accessory, both before and after the fact, to a
most gross and scandalous act of sacrilegious and burglarious robbery.
And an amusing sequel to the story proves that, where relics were
concerned, his friend Hildoin, another high ecclesiastical dignitary,
was even less scrupulous than himself.
On going to the palace early one morning, after the saints were safely
bestowed at Seligenstadt, he found Hildoin waiting for an audience in
the Emperor's antechamber, and began to talk to him about the miracle of
the bloody exudation. In the course of conversation, Eginhard happened
to allude to the remarkable fineness of the garment of the blessed
Marcellinus. Whereupon Abbot Hildoin observed (to Eginhard's
stupefaction) that his observation was quite correct. Much astonished at
this remark from a person was supposed not to have seen the relics,
Eginhard asked him how he knew that? Upon this, Hildoin saw he had
better make a clean breast of it, and he told the following story, which
he had received from his priestly agent, Hunus. While Hunus and Lunison
were at Pavia, waiting for Eginhard's notary, Hunus (according to his
own account) had robbed the robbers. The relics were placed in a church;
and a number of laymen and clerics, of whom Hunus was one, undertook to
keep watch over them. One night, however, all the watchers, save
wide-awake Hunus, went to sleep; and then, according to the story which
this "sharp" ecclesiastic foisted upon his patron,