The Legends of the Saints: An Introduction to Hagiography
From the French of Père Hippolyte. Delehaye, S.J., Bollandist
Translated By V. M. Crawford
1907[Reprinted University of Notre Dame Press 1961
With an Introduction By Richard J. Schoeck]Note on Etext Layout
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Footnotes have been moved to immediately below the paragraph they occur, even in this means moving the page marker they are under. Footnotes are marked in the text by [[double square brackets]]. The text did not use continuous numbering, but numbered the notes on each page 1,2,3 etc. In some cases this means a given paragraph, where it goes over a page marker, might have more than one footnote with the same number. In all cases, however, order determines which note is referred to.
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CONTENTS
PREFACE iii
CHAPTER I. PRELIMINARY DEFINITIONS.
Hagiographic documents - Imaginative tales. Artificial compositions - Romances - Popular inventions - Myths - Tales Legends - The hagiographic legend: its two principal factors. 1
CHAPTER II. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE LEGEND.
I. Unconscious distortion of truth by the individual - By the people-Level of popular intelligence - Tendency to simplification - Ignorance - Substitution of the abstract form for the individual type - Poverty of invention - The borrowing and transmission of legendary themes - Examples -The antiquity of certain themes - Artificial grouping of incidents and persons -Cycles. 12
II Predominance of sense impressions over the intelligence - Localisations and foot-prints - Literary origin of certain of these - Iconographic legends - Popular etymology - Miracle - The soul of the people - Energy of expression Exaggerated feeling-Ambitions of individual churches -- Morality of the mob - Local claims. 40
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CHAPTER III. THE WORK OF THE HAGIOGRAPHER.
I. The meaning of the term "hagiographer" - Literary methods - Moralities - Ancient ideas concerning history Special views of medieval hagiographers. 60
II. Sources-False attributions - Written tradition - Oral tradition-Pictorial tradition-Relics of the past-Choice of sources - Interpretation of sources - Inscriptions Use of the various categories of documents 70
III. Dearth of material and methods of supplementing it - Amplification by means of stock incidents-Acts of St. Clement of Ancyra - Compilation and adaptation-Life of St. Vincent Madelgarus - Antiquity of the process-Forgeries 91
CHAPTER IV. THE CLASSIFICATION OF HAGIOGRAPHIC TEXTS.
Defective system - Classification according to subjects -- According to categories of saints- System adopted. Historical point of view - Division into six classes- Application of system to Ruinart's Acta Sincera - The Supplements" of Le Blant. 107
CHAPTER V. THE "DOSSIER" OF A SAINT.
Documents concerning St. Procopius of Casarea - Account given by Eusebius - Monuments testifying to the cultus -- The three legends of St. Procopius - Analysis of the three legends - The synaxaries - Latin acts of St. Procopius Adaptations to St. Ephysius and to St. John of Alexandria - Conclusions. 125
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CHAPTER VI. PAGAN SURVIVALS AND REMINISCENCES.
1. Rites and symbols common to Christianity and to ancient religions - Suspicious practices - Incubation - Collections of miracles - Literary borrowings from pagan sources - Unavoidable analogies - Superstition 148
II. Saint-worship and hero-worship -The centre of hero-worship - Solemn translations--Relics-Fortuitous coincidences 160
III. Pagan survivals in worship-Holy places-Christian transformations - Adaptation of names - A method for ascertaining primitive titles - Sacred sources. 168
IV. Dates of festivals - Alteration of object - Difficulty of proving coincidences - A method for ascertaining dates of pagan festivals - Examples. 178
V. Pagan legends-Christian adaptations - Three cases to be considered-Examples: Legend of St. Lucian of Antioch -Legend of St. Pelagia and allied legends- St. Livrada . 186
VI. Mythological names - Other auspicious names - Iconographic parallels - The Blessed Virgin - "Saints on horseback." 207
CHAPTER VII. CONCERNING CERTAIN HAGIOGRAPHIC HERESIES.
Direct relation established between the history of a saint and his legend - Exaggerated confidence in hagiographers -considered appeals to local tradition - Confusion between a probable and a truthful narrative - Excessive importance attributed to the topographical element - Legend held in utter contempt. 214
INDEX . 233
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RECENT progress in scientific hagiography has given rise to move than one misunderstanding. Historical criticism when applied to the lives of the saints has had certain results which are in no way surprising to those who are accustomed to handle documents and to interpret inscriptions, but which have had a somewhat disturbing effect on the mind of the general public.
Religious-minded people who regard with equal veneration not only the saints themselves but everything associated with them, have been greatly agitated by certain conclusions assumed by them to have been inspired by the revolutionary spirit that has penetrated even into the Church, and to be highly derogatory to the honour of the heroes of our faith. This conviction frequently finds utterance in somewhat violent terms.
If you suggest that the biographer of a saint has been unequal to his task, or that he has not professed to write as a historian, you are accused of attacking the saint himself, who, it appears, is too powerful to allow himself to be compromised by an indiscreet panegyrist.
If, again, you venture to express doubt concerning certain miraculous incidents repeated by the author on insufficient evidence, although well-calculated to enhance the glory of the saint, you are at once suspected of lack of faith.
You are told you are introducing the spirit of rationalism into history, as though in questions of fact it were not above all things essential to weigh the evidence. How often [x] has not an accusation of destructive criticism been flung, and men treated as iconoclasts, whose sole object has been to appraise at their true value the documents which justify our attitude of veneration, and who are only too happy when able to declare that one of God's friends has been fortunate enough to find a historian worthy of his task.
One might have thought that this simple analysis of the attitude of suspicion which so many devout souls assume in regard to historical criticism would suffice to demonstrate the injustice of their prejudices. Unhappily, it is less easy than might be supposed to efface an impression which, as they think, can only have been inspired by piety.
The conditions under which so many accounts of martyrs and lives of saints have been put together are, as a rule, too little known for any common ground of criticism to be available. Many readers are not sufficiently on their guard against the vague sentiment which endows hagiographers with some mysterious privilege of immunity from the errors of human frailty to which all other categories of writers are liable.
We therefore believe that we shall be doing a useful work if we try to classify, more definitely than has been done hitherto, the various methods pursued by pious writers, to sketch in broad outline the genesis of their compositions, and to show how far they are from being protected against errors which exact history is bound to denounce.
It may, perhaps, be as well to warn the reader from the first against an impression that might be gathered from a study which is mainly devoted to the weak points of hagiographic literature.
To give assistance in detecting materials of inferior workmanship is not to deny the excellence of what remains, and it is to the ultimate advantage of the harvest to point out the tares that have sometimes become mingled with the wheat to a most disconcerting extent.
The simple narrative of heroic days, written, as it were, with pens dipped in the blood of martyrs, the naive histories, sweet with the perfume of true piety, in which [xi] eyewitnesses relate the trials of virgins and of ascetics, deserve our fullest admiration and respect.
For that very reason they must be clearly differentiated from the extensive class of painfully-elaborated biographies in which the features of the saint are hidden by a heavy veil of rhetoric, and his voice overborne by that of his chronicler. There is an infinite distance between these two classes of literature. The one is well known, and its own merits recommend it. The other too often passes undetected and prejudices the first.
It must surely be admitted that from this simple task of classification, the need for which we are anxious to demonstrate, it is a far cry to that work of destruction which we may be suspected of having embarked upon.
Moreover, if we recommend any one who feels drawn to hagiographic studies to plunge boldly into the realm of criticism, we should advise no one to advance blindfold, neither have we dreamed of disguising the fact that by misapplying methods of research, however efficacious they may be in themselves, there is danger of being led to quite inadmissible conclusions.
It is easy to satisfy oneself on this point by glancing through the chapter in which we have discussed the questions touching upon mythological exegesis, so much in vogue at the present day. Certain brilliant displays which have taken place in that arena have dazzled a public more preoccupied with the novelty of the conclusions than with their trustworthiness. It has been our duty to lay down the necessary limitations, and to show how they may best be observed.
We do not profess to have written a complete treatise on hagiography. Many points which may suggest themselves to the reader have not even been touched upon, and we make no pretension of having exhausted any one of the subjects of which we have treated.
The quotations and examples might have been multiplied almost indefinitely. We believe ourselves justified, however, in resisting the temptation to impress the reader by a cheap display of erudition, and in avoiding everything that might have encumbered our exposition without adding [xii] anything to the force of the argument.
To indicate briefly the spirit in which hagiographic texts should be studied, to lay down the rules for discriminating between the materials that the historian can use and those that he should hand over as their natural property to artists and poets, to place people on their guard against the fascination of formulas and preconceived systems, such has been the aim of this volume.
Controversy - an evil counsellor - has been banished as far as may be from this little book. Nevertheless we shall occasionally be compelled to call attention to other people's mistakes. Defective methods, alas, frequently take shelter behind names of the highest credit, and sometimes, when attacking erroneous views, one may give the impression of attacking persons. For the critic it is a real cause for regret that in the thick of the fight blows sometimes fall on those at whom they were not aimed. Let it be understood, once and for all, that we have aimed at nobody.
Some chapters of this study first appeared in the Revue des Questions historiques (July, 1903). We have slightly revised and completed them in a few places. Except for two or three unimportant additions, this new edition of the book is simply a reprint of the first, which appeared in March, 1905.
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CHAPTER I.
PRELIMINARY DEFINITIONS.Hagiographic documents - Imaginative tales. Artificial compositions - Romances- Popular inventions
- Myths- Tales-Legends - The hagiographic legend: its two principal factors.Let us, in the first instance, attempt to define what precisely is to be understood by a hagiographic document.
The term should not be applied indiscriminately to every document bearing upon the saints. The chapter in which Tacitus in vivid hues paints the sufferings of the first Roman martyrs is not a hagiographic document, nor can the expression be rightly applied to those pages of Eusebius's Ecclesiastical History across which the victims of the great persecutions defile in serried ranks. It was Eusebius, too, who composed, in four volumes, a panegyric of the first Christian emperor who, in the Greek Church, participates in the honours reserved to the canonised saints. Nevertheless the Life of Constantine is not a saint's life, whereas the book of the Martyrs of Palestine, written with the object of edifying the faithful by an account of the sufferings of these heroes is at once a hagiographic document and an historic record of the first order. So too the Acts of St. Theodore, which in their present form possess [2] nothing in common with history, should, from the standpoint of hagiography, enjoy similar consideration. In the same class again, though under a special category, we may range the calendars or martyrologies in which the anniversaries of martyrs are recorded, together with official inscriptions, such as those of Pope Damasus, placed upon their tombs.
It thus appears that, in order to be strictly hagiographic, the document should be of a religious character and should aim at edification. The term may only be applied therefore to writings inspired by devotion to the saints and intended to promote it.
The point to be emphasised from the first is the distinction between hagiography and history. The work of the hagiographer may be historical, but it is not necessarily so. It may assume any literary form suitable to the glorification of the saints, from an official record adapted to the use of the faithful, to a poetical composition of the most exuberant character wholly detached from reality.
It is obvious that no one would venture to assert that everywhere and at all times hagiographers have submitted themselves to strict historical canons. But by what standard must we measure their digressions? That is a point to be determined in each individual case. Before attempting to suggest any rules on this subject, let us begin by laying down a few definitions less familiar than might at first sight be supposed.
In order to describe any narrative which is not in accordance with fact, a free use is made of the terms myth, fable, tale, romance, legend. Taken in a general sense these words are frequently used as though they were synonymous. The result has been a constant [3] confusion of thought which we shall hope to avoid by a more rigorous definition of terms.[[1]]
[1] The following are the tides of works dealing with this question, which we give without questioning the conclusions of the authors, who do not always agree among themselves. J. F. L. George, Mythus und Sage, Berlin, 1837. J. Fiske, Myths and Myth-makers, London, 1873. H. Steinthal, Mythos, Sage, Märchen, Legende, Erzählung, Fabel, in the Zeitschrift fur Volkerspsychologie und Sprachwissenschaft, vol. xvii., 1865, pp. 113-39. E. Bernheim, Lehrbuch der historischen Methode, 3rd edition, Leipzig, 1903, pp. 317, 349, 45768. E. Siecke, Mythologische Briefe, Berlin, 1901. E. Betbe, Mythus, Sage, Märchen, in Hessische Blätter für Volkskunde, 1905, pp. 97-142. [Fr. Lanzoni, Genesi, svolgimento e tramonto delle leggende storiche, Rome, 1925 (Studi e Testi, 43).]
We need, however, scarcely discuss the fable, which, in its widest sense, may be held to include any imaginary narrative, and in its more restricted acceptation is synonymous with the apologue, more especially when the persons brought upon the scene are represented by animals. This does not mean that hagiographers have wholly neglected this form of imaginative composition. The author of the Life of SS. Barlaam and Joasaph has incorporated into his compilation various apologues which have been the subject of individual studies.[[2]] Nevertheless these are exceptions, and the critic of hagiography need not, as a rule, trouble himself about the emulators of Aesop and La Fontaine.
[2] S. J. Warren, De Grieksch christelijke roman Barlaam en Joasa en ziine parabels, Rotterdam, 1899, in 4to, 56 pp.
Myths, tales, legends and romances all belong to the sphere of imaginative writing, but may be divided into two categories, according as they are the spontaneous and impersonal expression of the spirit of the people, or artificial and deliberate compositions.
Romances, in the more usual acceptation of the term, belong to this second category. The author selects and studies his subject, and applies the resources of [4] his talent and his imagination to the work of art he has conceived. If he has chosen for his theme the character and adventures of an historical person or of a period of history, he will produce an historical romance. If everything, both characters and incidents, is pure invention it will be a novel of imagination; and if, by means of a series of incidents, partly true, partly fictitious, the author has attempted to depict the soul of a saint honoured by the Church, we ought to speak of his work as a hagiographic romance, although the expression is one that has scarcely passed into common use.
Romances of this type are exceedingly numerous, and a few of them date back to very early times.[[1]] One might instance the Acts of Paul and of Thecla, and that collection of the apocryphal Acts of the Apostles which enjoyed such long and extraordinary popularity. The romance of the Clementine Homilies and Recognitions is widely known, its main portions figuring for a prolonged period in all the most celebrated hagiographic collections.[[2]]
[1] An interesting account is to be found in E. von Dobschütz, Der Roman in der altchristlichen Literatur in the Deutsche Rundschau, April, 1902, pp. 87-106.
[2] H. U. Meyboom, De Clemens-Roman, Gröningen, 1904, 2 vols. Concerning this work and the most recent studies on the Clementines, see Analecta Bollandiana, vol. xxiv., pp. 138-41.
Tales and legends, to which reference must now be made, should not, strictly speaking, be placed in the category of artificial compositions. It is true that the name of tale is frequently bestowed upon short works of fiction, and the novelist sometimes devotes himself in his study to the composition of a narrative of which the form recalls the legend or tale properly so called. These learned imitations need only be mentioned here; [5] it is unnecessary to dwell on them further. We must reserve our attention for those works of fiction which have come down to us without any individual parentage, being the anonymous product of that abstraction known as the spirit of the people.
Let us first consider the myth. The term is frequently applied to anything that has no real existence, while the title of mythical personage is bestowed upon any hero who has lived solely in the imagination of the poet. Such, however, is not the technical meaning of the word, and it would be wrong to class as mythical personages figures such as Abner in Athalie, although the confidant of Joad was wholly invented by Racine.
The essence of the myth consists in the personification of a force or of an abstract idea; or, if you prefer it, the myth is simply an explanation of natural phenomena adapted to the capacity of a primitive people.[[1]] Whether we insist on treating it as a poetic symbol or whether, as has been ingeniously suggested, we should prefer to regard mythology as a treatise on physics for primitive times, it is none the less certain that natural phenomena supply the proper matter for the myth. The sun, the moon, the stars, lightning, the succession of night and day and the vicissitudes of the [6] seasons are represented by gods and heroes, and by the adventures attributed to them. Aurora, with rosy fingers, opens the portals of the Orient, Phaeton drives the chariot of the sun: such are the graceful fables with which the study of antiquity has familiarised us.
[1] M. S. Reinach in La Revue Critique (3rd June, 1905, p. 425) questions this definition of a myth. "A myth," he says, "is essentially a story which humanity has believed to be true at a particular stage of its intellectual development." This formula appears to us too vague to serve as a definition. M. Reinach may have more reason on his side when he adds: "To attempt to draw a rigorous distinction, as the author has done, between the myth on the one side and the legend and tale on the other, is to demand from words a precision which they are unable to supply". The definition that we have adopted, being on the whole, the one most commonly accepted by specialists, we may perhaps be permitted the use of it in order to avoid confusion.
I do not wish to multiply examples, for before classifying a narrative it is essential to ascertain definitely its real significance, and were we to follow the methods of a certain school there would be very few works of fiction that could not be included under the category of mythology. There are men, so an ill-tempered critic has declared, who cannot even watch a cat and dog fight without some reference to the struggle between darkness and light. The exaggerations denounced in this sally are only too real, and we shall be careful not to make use of the term myth without solid reason.
Is there such a thing as a hagiographic myth? Or have the hagiographers made use of mythical elements ? I see no difficulty in admitting it, and shall show later on that they have transferred to the saints more than one narrative which belongs to ancient mythology.
The tale proper is an invented story referring neither to a real personage nor yet to any definite place. " Once upon a time there were a king and queen who had a very beautiful daughter. . . ." This classical beginning of the story-teller [[1]] is exactly characteristic of its style, in which everything is made accessory to the plot of the narrative, intended solely for the entertainment of the listener, or calculated to set in relief some practical truth as in the case of moral tales.
[1] This is almost literally the opening phrase of Apuleius in Cupid and Psyche: "Erant in quadarn civitate rex et regina. Hi tres numero filias forma conspicuas habuere," Met., iv., 28.
[7] Contrary to what one would imagine, there exists no great variety of popular tales. All may be traced back to a certain number of types, none of which appears to belong exclusively to a particular nation or even race; they are the common patrimony of humanity.
Much has been written concerning their origin.[[1]] Without entering into a detailed study of the various theories propounded by specialists, mention must be made of two principal ones which have won more favour than the rest, and which may be considered as extreme solutions. Some explain the repetition of the same themes and the similarity in their forms by the uniformity of the human mind. Others take refuge in a less simple and less metaphysical explanation, which coincides more nearly with ascertained facts. According to them India is the one and only cradle of all popular tales disseminated throughout the whole world [[2]] and whatever one may like to assume concerning their original author, they had their birth there and thence set out on their travels to become in the widest sense the common possession of all nations. It is in [8] no way necessary to commit ourselves here to any theory of the first origin of popular tales. We need only remember that, like those light seeds that the wind carries beyond the seas, they are for ever floating in the atmosphere, and may be found in every country and every clime without their being connected in any definite way with either name or place.
[1] Emmanuel Cosquin, Contes Populaires de Lorraine, vol. i., Paris, 1886, i.4xvii.; id., L'Origine des contes populaires européens et les théories de M. Lang, Paris, 1891; id., Quelques observations sur les "Incidents communs aux contes orientaux," London, 1892. M. Cosquin is a definite partisan of the Orientalist theory, which has been combated more especially by M. J. Bidier, Les fabliauxBibliotheque de 1'École des Hautes Études, vol. 98, Paris, 1893, pp. 45-250. Concerning other systems and their variations, the following may be consulted: Ch. Martens, L'origine des Contes populaires in the Revue Néo-Scolastique, vol. i., 1894, pp. 234-62, 352-84. L. Sainéan, L'état actuel des études de Folk-lore in the Revue de Synthèse historique, vol. iv., 1902, pp. 147-74. [In the 3d ed. Delehaye deletes the citation of Sainéan and in its place cites: G. Huet, Les contes populaires, Paris, 1923, 189 pp.]
[2] Among the advocates of the Orientalist theory, there are some who regard Egypt as the birthplace of popular tales. See, for instance, S. Reinach in the Revue d'histoire et de littérature religieuses, vol. ix., 1904, pp. 319-20. We cannot discuss the subject here.
The legend, on the other hand, has, of necessity, some historical or topographical connection. It refers imaginary events to some real personage, or it localises romantic stories in some definite spot. Thus one may speak of the legend of Alexander or of Caesar, of the legend of the Castle of the Drachenfels on the Rhine, or of that of the Red Lake, Lough Derg, in Ireland. Such, in accordance with common usage, is the precise meaning of the terms we have to employ.
It must, however, be observed that in practice classification is less easy, and the various categories are less clearly differentiated. One of these winged tales which fly from nation to nation may for a moment settle on some famous monument, or the anonymous king who was the principal personage may take to himself some historic name. At once the tale is transformed into a legend, and one might easily be misled if some other version of the same story did not reveal the purely accidental introduction of the historical element.[[1]] In the [9] same way the myth itself may also readily assume the appearance of a legend.
[1] In certain cases the various disguises are easy to recognize, as in the stories in which Jesus Christ and St. Peter are brought on the scene. Here, for example, is a legend of the Basque country, chronicled by Cerquand: "Our Lord and St. Peter one day, when out walking, came across a man kneeling in the middle of the road and praying to God to extricate his cart from the ditch into which it had fallen. As Jesus was passing on without paying any attention to the carter's prayer, St. Peter said to Him, 'Lord, wilt thou not come to the help of this poor man?" 'He does not deserve our help,' Jesus replied, 'for he makes no effort to help himself.' A little farther on they came upon another man in similar plight, but shouting and swearing and doing his utmost. Jesus hastened to his assistance, saying: 'This one deserves our help for he is doing what he can'." Every one is familiar with this incident as told by the fabulist concerning Hercules. See R. Köhler, Kleine Schriften, Berlin, 1900, vol. ii., pp. 102-4. Consult also the admirable apologue: "Why men no longer know when they are going to die," ibid., pp. 100-2.
On the other hand, if you despoil the legend of all that connects it with reality, you give it the external features of a mere tale. Hence the difficulty of disentangling legend and tale in the celebrated collection of the Arabian Nights, for in spite of the highly fantastic character of the stories that compose it, portions have been identified with some sort of historical basis.[[1]] Contrariwise it may occur that what is apparently a highly distinctive legend will suddenly re-appear in the guise of a folk tale. It was a long time before men recognised an adaptation of the celebrated tale of the ass's skin in the legend of Saint Dymphna, or before the touching history of Genevi6ve de Brabant[[2]] proved to be a theme which had previously been turned to account by the epic poets of India.[[3]]
1 M. J. de Goeje, De Arabisohe Nachtvertellingen in De Gids, 1886, vol. iii., pp. 383-413.
2 Acta SS., May, vol. iii, pp. 479-86.
3 On the variations and derivatives of this story see H. Suchier, Oeuvres poétiques de Beaumanoir, Société des anciens textes Français, vol. i., 1884, pp. xxv.-lxxxi., clx. Marie de Brabant, whose story is identical has been the object of ecclesiastical veneration. Acta SS., Jan., vol. ii., p. 180; April, vol. i., p. 57.
As we have just seen, legends, considered as connected narrations, in contradistinction to myths and tales, presuppose an historical fact as basis or pretext: such is the first essential element of the species. This historical fact may either be developed or disfigured by popular imagination : and here we have the second element. Both elements may be combined in very unequal proportions, and according as the preponderance is to be found on the side of fact or on that of fiction, the narrative may be classed as history or as legend.
As it is the fictitious element which determines the classification of legendary narratives, people have naturally formed the habit of applying to it the name of the species itself, and thus the term legend has been extended to every unconscious distortion of historic truth, whether there be question of a series of incidents or of a solitary episode.
However we interpret the term, it seems scarcely worth while to insist on the considerable part played by legend in hagiographic literature, which is emphatically popular both in its origins and in its aim. Indeed it is from hagiography that the name itself has been borrowed. In its primitive meaning the legend is the history that has to be read, legenda, on the feast of a saint. It is the passion of the martyr or the eulogy of the confessor, without reference to its historical value. " Legendarius vocatur liber ille ubi agitur de vita et obitu confessorum, qui legitur in eorum festis, martyrum autern in Passionariis," wrote John Beleth,[[1]] in the twelfth century, thus differentiating the passion from the legend, contrary to the custom that was subsequently to prevail. For, as early as the thirteenth century, the Legenda Aurea sanctioned the wider meaning which includes at once the acts of the martyrs and the biographies of other saints. We [11] might, therefore, in conformity with ancient usage, bestow the term legend upon all hagiographic narratives, including even those of admitted documentary value. Nevertheless, to avoid confusion in the following pages, we shall rigidly refrain from doing so, and the word legend will only be applied to stories or incidents unauthenticated by history.
[1] De divinis officiis, 60; Migne, P. L., Vol. ccii., p. 66. See also E. von Dobschiltz, art. "Legende," in the Realencyklopaedie für Protestantische Theologie, 3rd edition, Vol. xi., p. 345.
Hagiographic literature has come to be written under the influence of two very distinct factors, factors to be met with, indeed, in whatever stream of literary productiveness we seek to trace to its source. There is, first, the anonymous creator called the people or, if we prefer to take the effect for the cause, the legend. Here the work is that of a mysterious and many-headed agent, uncontrolled in his methods, swift and unfettered as the imagination always is, perpetually in labour with fresh products of his fancy, but incapable of chronicling them in writing. Beside him there is the man of letters, the editor, who stands before us as one condemned to a thankless task, compelled to follow a beaten track, but giving to all he produces a deliberate and durable character. Both together have collaborated in that vast undertaking known as 11 The Lives of the Saints," and it is important for us to recognise the part played by each in this process of evolution, which, though the work of all time, is yet incessantly renewed.
It is our intention to restrict ourselves almost exclusively to the pious literature of the Middle Ages, and we shall seek to prove how it was elaborated by the people on the one side and the hagiographers on the other. The methods pursued both by the one and the other may appear to some people to be not yet wholly a thing of the past. It is an opinion which we ourselves are not prepared to controvert.
[12]
CHAPTER II.
THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE LEGEND.I.
Unconscious distortion of truth by the individual - By the people - Level of popular intelligence - Tendency to simplification -
Ignorance - Substitution of the abstract form for the individual type - Poverty of invention - The borrowing and transmission
of legendary themes - Examples - The antiquity of certain themes - Artificial grouping of incidents and persons-Cycles.The development of the legend is, according to our definition, the outcome of an unconscious or unreflecting agent acting upon historical material. It is the introduction of the subjective element into the realm of fact.
If, the day after a battle, we were to collect the narratives of eye-witnesses, we should find the action described in twenty different ways while identical details would be related from the most diverse points of view with the same accent of sincerity. The extent of his information, the sentiments and impressions of the narrator and the camp to which he belongs, all affect his account, which is neither wholly false nor yet wholly in accordance with truth. Every man will relate his own legend. The combined result of these divergent narratives will again be a legend, and should we insist on disentangling the pure historic truth, we shall have to content ourselves with the two or three salient facts that appear to be established with certainty. [13] If, in lieu of the remainder, we substitute a series of deductions, we are merely writing the history of the battle in our own way; in fact, we ourselves then become the creators of a new legend, and we must either resign ourselves to this necessity or elect to remain in ignorance.
Every one is agreed as to the special difficulty of giving a precise account of any complicated action that cannot be taken in at a glance. It must not however, be assumed that putting aside these exceptional cases there is nothing more easy or more common than to give a faithful description. The truth is that in daily life we are perpetually taking part in that unconscious labour from which legends are evolved, and each one of us has had occasion to testify a hundred times over how difficult it is to convey, with absolute precision, our impression of any complex incident.
To begin with, it is very rare to grasp the event in all its details, and to trace the connection between the various parts. It is still more rare for us to be in a position to distinguish the causes in such a way as to leave no possible doubt concerning the motives that have prompted the actors. Consequently we allow our instinct to fill in the gaps in our information. By a series of intuitive connections we re-establish the continuity of action, and we read our own interpretation into the forces that have brought about such and such a result. If we happen to be under the empire of passion or of any sentiment that clouds our clear view of things, if we secretly desire that any established fact should not have occurred, or that any unnoted circumstance should really have taken place if it coincides with our wishes that the actors should have followed any special impulse, it may occur that, heedlessly, we leave one [14] portion of the picture in the shade, or give undue prominence to another, according as our own prepossessions suggest. Unless, therefore, we submit our arguments to a rigid supervision and maintain complete control over our impressions, we are liable, to the detriment of truth, to introduce a strong subjective element into our narrative. To give an exact description of complex reality demands not only sound sense and a trained judgment but also conscious effort, and consequently requires a stimulus adequate to the object in view.
It must be admitted that apart from exceptional circumstances the average man is not endowed with the intellectual vigour necessary for such a task. The habit of analysing one's sensations and of controlling the slightest impulses of ones soul to such an extent as to be habitually on ones guard against the natural tendency to mingle what one imagines with what one knows, is the privilege of very few. Even those who, thanks to natural gifts and a superior training, rise above the average of their fellows, do not invariably make use of their special faculties.
Let me suppose that a man has been an eyewitness of some sanguinary drama. He will describe the various exciting circumstances to his friends with the most minute details, and nothing will appear to have escaped him that bears upon the criminal and his victim.
But suppose this same man subpoenaed to give evidence at the assizes, and that on his deposition, given on oath, depends the life of a fellow-creature. What a difference between the two versions of the same event! At once his narrative becomes less clear and less complete, and is far from possessing that palpitating interest that he gave to it in private. This is [15] simply because, under such solemn circumstances, we carry to a far higher point our scrupulous exactitude, and we are no longer tempted to indulge in the petty vanity of posing as important and well-informed. Hence it is that even the most veracious and upright of men unconsciously create little legends by introducing into their narratives their own impressions, deductions and passions, and thus present the truth either embellished or disfigured according to circumstances.
These sources of error, it need scarcely be said, become multiplied with the number of intermediaries. Every one in turn understands the story in a different fashion and repeats it in his own way. Through inattention or through defective memory some one forgets to mention an important circumstance, necessary to the continuity of the history. A narrator, more observant than the rest, notes the deficiency, and by means of his imagination does his best to repair it. He invents some new detail, and suppresses another until probability and logic appear to him sufficiently safe-guarded. This result is usually only obtained at the expense of truth, for the narrator does not observe that he has substituted a very different story for the primitive version. Sometimes again the narrative may pass through the hands of a witness who does not wholly approve of it, and who will not fail to contribute markedly to its disfigurement by some imperceptible turn of thought or expression.
These things happen every day, and whether we are eye-witnesses or mere intermediaries, our limited intelligence, our carelessness, our passions, and above all perhaps our prejudices, all conspire against historical accuracy when we take it upon ourselves to become narrators.
[16] This commonplace experience becomes much more interesting and more fraught with consequences when it is indefinitely multiplied, and when, for the intelligence and impressions of the individual we substitute the intelligence and impressions of a people or a crowd. These collective, and, in a certain sense, abstract faculties, are of a quite special nature, and their activities are subjected to laws that have been deeply studied in our own day, and to which a special branch of psychology has been assigned.[[1]] Such laws as have been formulated have been verified by thousands of examples drawn from the popular literature of every country. Hagiographic literature offers a large mass of material amply confirming them.
[1] Lazarus und Steinthal, Zeitschrift für Völkerspsychologie und Sprachwissenschaft, Berlin, Leipzig, i., 1860 - xix., 1889. A book by G. le Bon, Psychologie des Foules, Paris, 1895, treated from a very special point of view, contains, together with notable exaggerations, some useful remarks.
To avoid complicating the question we shall not attempt to apportion the varying degrees of capacity of different social strata. No task, indeed, would be more difficult, and in regard to the matters that interest us the most varied elements have to be taken into account. In the Middle Ages the whole populace was interested in the saints. Every one invoked them, paid them honour and loved to sing their praises. Popular society in which the legends were elaborated was composed of many elements, and by no means excluded persons of literary pretensions. I hasten to add that the saints gained nothing thereby.
The intellectual capacity of the multitude reveals itself on all sides as exceedingly limited, and it would be a mistake to assume that it usually submits itself to the influence of superior minds. On the contrary, the [17] latter necessarily suffer loss from contact with the former, and it would be quite illogical to attribute a special value to a popular tradition because it had its origin amid surroundings in which persons of solid merit were to be met with. In a crowd superiority quickly vanishes, and the average intelligence tends to fall far below mediocrity. The best point of comparison by which we can ascertain its level is the intelligence of a child.
In truth, the number of ideas of which the popular brain is capable of receiving any impression is extremely small, and these ideas must be very simple. Equally simple are its deductions, which it arrives at by means of a small number of intuitive principles, and which are frequently little more than loosely connected conceptions or pictures.
The artless nature of popular genius betrays itself clearly in the legends it creates. Thus the number of personages and of events of which it preserves any remembrance is few indeed ; its heroes never exist side by side, but succeed each other, and the latest inherits all the greatness of his predecessors.
Antiquity has bequeathed to us many famous examples of this phenomenon of absorption. The struggles of many centuries concentrated themselves under the walls of Troy, while Solon and Lycurgus bear off the honours of a prolonged legislative evolution at Athens and in Sparta.[[1]] In less remote times it is Alexander, [18] Caesar and Charlemagne [[1]] who, in their respective lands, fire the popular imagination, and on the heads of these chosen heroes all the honours accumulate. Brilliant feats of arms which rouse enthusiasm are attributed to the national hero, public benefits are all due to him, and everything of note throughout the country is in some way connected with his name.
[1] Concerning this and similar examples consult Wachsmuth, Über die Quellen der Geschichtstf:aschung (Berichte iber die Verhandlungen der K. Sächsischen GeselIschaft der Wissenschatten zu Leipzig), Phil.-Hist. Classe, vol. viii., 1856, pp. 121-53. It is worth remembering that legends of a similar nature are growing up in our own day. "Legend has transformed the Civil Code into the principles Of the Revolution expressed in two thousand articles by order of the First Consul. In this summary of history the code is no longer the outcome of centuries of effort by king and parliament, and by the citizens in their communes and corporations; there survives only the thought of the Emperor; it is the Code Napoleon," H. Leroy, Le centenaire du Code civil in the Revue de Paris, 1Ist October, 1903.
[1] Concerning the legend of Alexander consult P. Meyer, Alexandre le grand dans la littérature française du moyen âge in the Bibliothèque française du moyen âge, vol. iv., Paris, 1886; J. Darmesteler, La légende d'Alexandre chez les Perses in the Bibliothèque de l'École des Hautes Études, vol. 35, Paris, 1878, pp. 83-99; J. Levi, La 1égende d' Alexandre dans le Talmud in the Revue des Études Juives, vol. ii., 1881, p. 203; vol, vii., p. 78; Mélusine, vol. v., pp. 116-18; S. S. Hoogstra, Proza-bewerkingen van het Leven van Alexander den Groote in het Middelnederlandsch, The Hague, 1898, pp. i.-xxiii.; Fr. Kampers, Alexander der Grosse und die Idee des Weltimperiums in Prophetie und Sage, Freiburg im Breisgau, 1901. Concerning the Caesar legend consult A. and G. Doutrepont, La légende de César en Belgique in the IIIème Congres des Savants Catholiques, vol. v., Brussels, 1894, pp. 80-108. On Charlemagne, see G. Paris, Histoire poétique de Charlemagne, Paris, 1865; E. Müntz, La 1égende de Charlemagne dans l'art au moyen Ige in Romania, vol. xiv., 1883 p., 320.
Were we to believe what legend tells us there is scarcely in the whole town of Alexandria a single stone that was not laid by Alexander the Great himself [[2]] Since the day when Tiberius turned the rock of Capri into the scene of his debaucheries he has become, so to speak, a tutelary genius whose beneficent hand has left traces of its activity in every corner of the isle.[[3]]
[2] G. Lumbroso, L'Egitto del Greci e dei Romani, 2nd edition, Rome, 1895, p. 157.
[3] Maxime Du Camp, Orient et Italie, Paris, 1968, pp. 13, 60, 74.
[19] It is obvious that this custom of accumulating on a single head all the glories of preceding heroes affects very markedly the true proportions of the persons concerned. The splendour of the apotheosis is sometimes such that the hero entirely loses his true physiognomy and emerges in complete disguise. Thus Virgil, having become the idol of the Neapolitans, ceased to be the inspired poet in order to be converted into the governor of the city.[[1]] Local tradition at Sulmona has transformed Ovid into everything that he was not: a clever magician, a rich merchant, a prophet, a preacher, a sort of paladin, and-who would believe it ?-a great saint.[[2]]
[1] This subject has been exhaustively treated by D. Comparetti, Virgilio nel medio evo, 2nd edition, Florence, 1896, 2 vols. 8vo.
[2] A. De Nino, Ovidio nella tradizione popolare di Sulmona, Casalbordino, 1886, p. 1.
Historic truth is put wholly out of court on these occasions, for it is an understood thing that the really popular hero plays a part in all important events; that nothing generous, noble or useful can be accomplished without the intervention of the great man who monopolises the sympathies of the populace. In the religious sphere the idol of all hearts is the saint specially venerated in the district. Here, it is St. Martin whose name crops up at every turn; there, St. Patrick[[3]] The enthusiasm of the people has not failed to enlarge the sphere of their activities, including among these a number of incidents detached from their historic setting, or despoiling, for their benefit, the eclipsed heroes of an earlier stage of development.
[3] Bulliot, La mission et le culte de St. Martin d'après les légendes ef les monuments populaires dans le pays Éduen, Autun, 1892; Shearman, Loca Patriciana, Dublin, 1879; W. G. Wood-Martin, Traces of the Elder Faiths of Ireland, London, 1902 , vol. i., pp. 163, 245; vol. ii., pp. 20, 88.
[20] Above all, do not expect the populace to distinguish between namesakes. Great men are so rare! What likelihood is there that there should have lived two of the same name? It is this sort of reasoning which has persuaded the inhabitants of Calabria that St Louis, on his return from the first Crusade, sojourned in several of their towns, whereas, in truth, he never set foot in the district The king Louis who passed through the Neapolitan provinces with the remains of his army of Crusaders was Louis VII. When the canonisation of Louis IX. had cast into the shade the memory of all his predecessors, it became quite natural to substitute him for the other Louis in the popular memory.[[1]] In the same way, by the simple force of attraction, as early as the fourth century, incidents borrowed from the life of Cyprian of Antioch became interpolated in that of Cyprian of Carthage.[[2]] It was almost inevitable that the illustrious martyr should inherit from the earlier and more obscure Cyprian. In the same way Alexander the Great and Charlemagne absorbed the achievements of all their namesakes.[[3]]
[1] F. Lenormant, À travers l'Apulie et la Lucanie, Paris, 1883, vol. i., p. 323.
[2] Witnesses to this confusion are St. Gregory Nazianzen, Prudentius and Macarius of Magnesia. See Th. Zahn, Cyprian von Antiochien, Erlangen, 1882, p. 84. [This sentence and the following, together with this footnote, are deleted in the 3d ed.]
[3] It is well known that Alexander the Great has had the credit of the foundations of Alexander Severus, and that the name of Charlemagne has. absorbed many incidents attributed by history to Charles Martel. P. Rajna, Le origini dell' epopea francese, Florence, 1884, p. 199.
It may be seen from this that the populace is never disturbed, as we are, by chronological difficulties. No one, for instance, was startled by hearing it read out that St Austremonius, in the reign of the Emperor Decius, was sent to Auvergne by St. Clement. [[4]] To [21] the popular mind it was perfectly natural that, in the same early days, there should have been both dukes and counts; and why should any one have suspected that it was an anachronism to bestow the title of archdeacon on St. Stephen and St. Lawrence, who certainly were very far from being mere ordinary deacons?
[4] Acta SS., November, vol. i., p. 49.
Neither was the popular mind disturbed by geography, and questions of distance scarcely existed for it. Men listened without lifting an eyebrow to stories in which Cwsarea Philippi is confused with Caesarea of Palestine,[[1]] and in which a war is referred to a!# breaking out between the latter town and Carthage. [[2]] The caravan of seventy camels sent by Isquirinus, Prefect of Périgueux, into the desert to seek for the seventy monks who were dying of hunger, did not appear to them any less interesting because the said desert is situated on the banks of the Dordogne.[[3]] I am prepared to believe that men would be more exacting concerning the topography of their native country, a knowledge of which is forced upon them by their own eyes. But why trouble about distant scenes? [[4]]
[1] Passio S. Procopii, no. 27 in the Acta SS., July, vol. ii., p. 564.
[2] St. Cassiodorus in the Mélanges Paul Fabre, Paris, 1902, pp. 40-50.
[3] Vita S. Frontonis, auctore Gauzberto; compare L. Duchesne, Fastes Episcopaux de l'ancienne Gaule, vol. ii., p. 132.
[4] We have referred to the value of topographical records in hagiographic legends in the Analecta Bollandiana, vol. xvi., pp. 222-35, 243-44. Concerning the tenacity of the memory of the people in all that concerns the names of the places in the country they inhabit, see Pare M. J. Lagrange, La Méthode historique, surtout a propos de I'Ancien Testament, Paris, 1903, pp. 188-92.
As for history, the popular intelligence conceives of it in the same spirit of naïve simplicity. Let us see, for instance, what impression has been preserved of persecutions under the Roman Empire. To begin with, no distinction is made between the emperors who [22] have ordered and those who have merely authorised proceedings against the Christians. There is but one epithet, impiissimus, by which all alike are described, whether reference is made to Nero, Decius and Diocletian or to Trajan, Marcus Aurelius and Alexander Severus. All are held to be animated by the same degree of insensate fury against Christianity, and to have no other thought but that of destroying it. Frequently it is the emperor in person who summons the Christians before his tribunal, even though he be compelled to undertake journeys of which history has preserved no record. It is, however, obvious that the head of the State cannot be everywhere. This is no obstacle to his fury. He has emissaries who scour the empire and represent him worthily. Everywhere Christians are outlawed, hunted down and dragged before monsters of judges, who contrive to invent appalling tortures that have never been inflicted even on the worst of criminals. Divine intervention, which prevents these refined torments from injuring the martyrs, serves to emphasise the cruelty of their-persecutors, while at the same time providing an adequate and visible reason for the numbers of conversions which the rage of the executioners is unable to stem.
Such, in brief, is the picture of the age of persecutions as recorded in popular legend. The variations in legislative enactments, and the diversity in the application of the edicts, the very marked individuality of certain of the great enemies of the Faith, the purely local character of some of the outbreaks of which the Christians, were victims, do not in any sense appeal to the intelligence of the people, who much prefer a simple picture in vivid colours and strongly marked outline, to combinations of numerous and complex facts. [23] Need we add that historical sequence has no existence for the populace? That, without exciting suspicion, one may assign the date of a martyrdom indifferently to the reign of any one of the impious Emperors Decius, Numerian or Diocletian?[[1]] That the name of the judge is of no consequence, and that it is a matter of indifference whether the cruel Dacianus could or could not persecute at one and the same time in Italy and in Spain? The long list of the Popes is unfamiliar to them, and the part played by a Pope Cyriacus was not sufficient to bring under suspicion the legend of the eleven thousand virgins [[2]] any more than surprise was caused by the introduction of a Pope Alexander into the story of St Ouen.[[3]]
[1 The 3d ed. adds: There are numerous examples in Les Passions des martyrs et les genres littéraires, p. 136-315.]
[1] I may recall, among others, the martyrdom of St. Cecilia of which the date is sometimes temporibus Alexandri imperatoris and sometimes Marci Aurelii et Commodi temporibus. See Analecta Bollandiana, vol. xxii., pp. 86-88,
[2] Acta SS., October, vol. ix., pp. 100-4, 214, 276-78.
[3] Analecta Bollandiana, vol. xx., pp. 175-76. According to the legend of SS. Chrysanthus and Daria these saints suffered martyrdom in 283 under Numerian and their acts were written by order of Pope Stephen (d. 257), Acta SS., October, vol. xi., p. 484. As a counterpart to this anachronism one may quote the legend of St. Florian and his companions at Bologna. The martyrdom of the saints is supposed to have happened in the twenty-seventh year of Heraclius (637), and the translation of their relics during the episcopate of St. Petronius in the fifth century. See Analecta Bollandiana, vol. xxiii., p. 298.
Thus robbed of their individuality, isolated in a sense from their period and their surroundings, and dragged from their natural setting, historical personages acquire, in the eyes of the people, an unreal and inconsistent character. For a vivid and clearly accentuated portrait as bequeathed to us by history, we substitute an ideal figure who is the personification of an abstraction: in place of the individual, the people know [24] only the type. Alexander personifies the conqueror; Caesar, the organising genius of the Roman people; Constantine, the Empire regenerated by Christianity.
In the really popular hagiographic legends it is not St. Lawrence, but the typical martyr that is brought upon the scene, just as later St. Martin becomes the type of the missionary-bishop and miracle-worker. There is also the typical persecutor. Diocletian is the most prominent here, then certain judges who personify, so to speak, the cruelty of pagan justice. One of the most celebrated of these is the redoubtable Anulinus, who was, in reality, pro-consul of Africa during the great persecution. His name has become a synonym for executioner, and in a number of legends recourse is had to him to bring about the death of Christians at Lucca, at Milan and at Ancona, under Nero, Valerian, Gallienus and Maximianus, without counting the narratives in which his authentic exploits are recorded.[[1]]
[1] Consult the quotations in Le Blant, Les Actes des Martyrs, Paris, 1882, p. 27.
It is scarcely surprising that the reading of certain hagiographic records should be monotonous work, or that there should be such.- remarkable resemblances between the acts of so many martyrs. While really historical documents such as the Acts of St. Polycarp, and of SS. Perpetua and Felicitas and of St. Cyprian offer the most remarkable variations of detail, the legend of the martyrs is nothing but a mass of repetitions. This is the result of eliminating as far as possible the individual element, in order to retain only the abstract form. Every martyr, as a rule, is animated by the same sentiments, expresses the same opinions and is subject to the same trials, while the holy confessor who has earned his reward by an edifying life must needs [25] have possessed all the virtues of his profession, which the hagiographer, the faithful mouthpiece of popular tradition, delights to enumerate.
Here, for example, is the portrait of St. Fursey, Abbot: "Erat enim forma praecipuus, corpore castus, mente devotus, affabilis colloquio, amabilis adspectu, prudentia, praeditus, temperantia. clarus, intema fortitudine firmus, censura iustitim stabilis, longanimitate assiduus, patientia. robustus, humilitate mansuetus, caritate sollicitus et ita in eo omnium virtutum decorem sapientia. adornabat, ut secundum apostolum sermo illius,semper in gratia sale esset conditus ".[[1]] Unquestionably this is a noble eulogy. But might not the same be written of every saint?
[1] "For he was comely to look upon, chaste of body, earnest in mind, affable of speech, gracious of presence, abounding in wisdom, a model of abstemiousness, steadfast in resolution, firm in right judgments, unwearied in longanimity, of sturdiest patience, gentle in humility, solicitous in charity, while wisdom in him so enhanced the radiance of all the virtues that his conversation, according to the Apostle, was always seasoned with wit in the grace of God" (Acta SS., Jan., vol. ii, p. 37).
The biographer of St. Aldegonde describes her in the following terms: "Erat namque moribus honesta, eloquio suavis, in pauperibus misericors, in lectione velox, in responsis citissima, mitis omnibus, inter nobiles humilis, iunioribus quasi aequalis, in parcitate cibi et potus ita dedita abstinentiae ut nulla. sodalium sibi aequipararetur"[[2]] A few characteristic incidents revealing her admirable virtues would impress one far more than this conventional picture. But the popular mind can [26] only retain a simple and general notion of sanctity. You ask for a portrait and you receive a programme.
[2] "For she was irreproachable in conduct, persuasive of speech, merciful to the poor, quick at reading, most ready in answering, gentle to all, humble among great folk, to her juniors like one of their own age, and so devoted to abnegation in abstinence of food and drink that none of her companions could be compared with her" (Acta SS., Jan., vol. ii., p. 1036).
Moreover the programme can boast of very little variety. Poverty of invention is another of the characteristics of popular intelligence. Its developments all resemble each other, and its combinations offer but little interest. As for its creative faculties, they appear condemned to sterility the moment the public has come into possession of a sufficient number of fairly interesting themes and topics to fit the situations of more ordinary occurrence.
The comparative study of folk-lore has revealed the fact that the same stories recur among all races and in all countries, that they can all be traced back to a limited number of identical themes, and that they have spread themselves over the world from a common stock.
Every one is aware that even in our own day celebrated sayings are constantly re-issued under fresh headings, that amusing anecdotes are perpetually transferred from one person to another,[[1]] and that, to quote but a single classical example,, there is not a town without its legendary absent-minded citizen, everywhere the victim of identical misadventures.
[1] Some examples of this have been collected by H. Gaidoz, Légendes Contemporaines in Mélusine, vol. ix., 1898-99, pp. 77, 118, 140, 187.
The study of ancient authors supplies us with innumerable examples of the transmission of legendary themes. We have only to glance through the descriptions of celebrated sieges as told by the old chroniclers to discover that the effects of famine, the patriotism of the besieged, and the cunning artifices designed to deceive the enemy as to the resources of the town, are almost invariably described in identical terms.
[27] Thus when the Gauls besieged Rome the soldiers were reduced to soaking the leather of their shields and sandals in order to eat it. The same fact occurred, if we are to accept the evidence of Livy, at the siege of Casilinum during the second Punic war, and again, according to Josephus, at the siege of Jerusalem. During the same siege of Rome the women sacrificed their hair to weave into ropes; while the women of Carthage, Salonae, Byzantium, Aquileia, Thasos and many other cities were equally capable of a devotion that may well be called heroic.[[1]] In the same way the chronicles of the Middle Ages are full of ingenious manceuvres; invented to deceive the enemy who forthwith falls into the trap and raises the siege.[[2]] In order to appreciate the historic value of these curious narratives, it is sufficient to place them side by side with others of the same description.
[1] The examples have been collected by A. Schwegler, Römische Geschichte, vol. iii., Tubingen, 1858, p. 260.
[2] For example, a herd of fat cattle would be driven into the enemy's camp, or the besiegers would be pelted with loaves of bread, or still better with cheeses, frequently made from the milk of nursing mothers, in order to create a conviction that the town was well supplied with provisions. See G. Pitré, Stratagemmi leggendarii da citta assediate, new edition, Palermo, 1904, 21 pp.; also the Archivio per lo studio delle Tradizioni popolari, vol. xxii., 1903-04, pp. 193-211. See also Romania, vol. xxxiii., 1904, p. 459.
One might vary indefinitely the examples given, and quote curious cases of quaint legends becoming acclimatised in the most incongruous localities. Strange as it may seem, the Irish have thought fit to borrow from King Midas his ass's ears,[[3]] with which to adorn at least two of their kings.[[4]]
[3] Ovid, Metamorphoses, xi, 180 and following; Hyginus, Fabulae, 191, 3.
[4] H. D'Arbois de Jubainville in the Revue Celtique, vol. xxiv., 1903, p. 215.
[28] A systematic classification of legendary themes furnished by hagiographic documents would lead to similar conclusions. Many striking episodes which an inexperienced reader would be tempted to take for original inventions are mere reminiscences or floating traditions which cling sometimes to one saint, sometimes to another.
The miraculous crucifix which appeared to St. Hubert [[1]] between the antlers of a stag, is in no sense the exclusive property of this saint. It maybe found equally in the legend of St. Meinulf [[2]] and that of St Eustace [[3]] as well as in those of many others in which variations of detail render the theme less easily recognisable. Lists of saints have been compiled who all vanquished dragons,[[4]] but all these enumerations would have to be greatly enlarged before one could in any way hope to exhaust the subject. For myself, I see no object in doing so. It is almost always a waste of time to seek to identify the historical fact which has been responsible for the introduction of such epic incidents in the life of a saint. We might as well institute inquiries as to why a seed borne by the wind has fallen on any particular spot.
[1]Acta SS., Nov., vol. i., p. 839.
[2] Ibid., Oct., vol. iii., pp. 188, 212.
[3] Ibid., Sept., vol. vi., p. 124; [H. Delehaye, La légende de S. Eustache, in Bulletin de la classe des lettres de I'Acadimie Royale de Belgique, 1919, p. 1-36.]
[4] See Ch. Cahier, Caractéristiques des Saints, vol. i., pp. 315-22. See also M. Meyer, Ueber die Verwandschall heidnischer und Christlicher Drachentödter in the Verhandlungen der XL, Versammlung deutscher Philologen, Leipzig, 1890, p. 336 and following.
It is with reason that a critic has taken exception to a detail in the acts of SS. Sergius and Bacchus.[[5]] The body of the latter martyr having been flung out on the highway, was protected from dogs by birds of prey.[[6]] A [29] similar miraculous protection was accorded to the remains of St. Vincent [[1]] St. Vitus [[2]] St. Florian,[[3]] and St. Stanislaus of Cracow [[4]] while we must not omit the eagle summoned by Solomon to watch over the body of David, or other similar narratives drawn from Talmudic literature.[[5]] Nor, since we are on the subject of eagles, should we forget that the miraculous bird who spread his wings to protect St. Servatius,[[6]] St. Bertulph,[[7]] St. Medard [[8]] and others from sun and rain is to be met with elsewhere than in hagiographic documents.
[5] P. Byaeus in Acta SS., Oct., vol. iii., p. 838.
[6] Ibid., p. 867.
[1] Prudentius, Peristeph., v., 102 and following.
[2] Acta SS., Jan., vol. ii., pp. 1025-26.
[3] Ibid., May, vol. iv., p. 465.
[4] Ibid., May, vol. vii., pp. 202, 231.
[5] S. Singer, Salomon sagen in Deutschland in Zeitschrift für Deutsches Alterthum vol. xxxv., 1891, p. 186; Id., Sagengeschichtliche Parallelen aus dem Babylonischen Talmud in Zeitschrift des Vereins fürr Volkskunde,, vol. ii., 1892, p. 301.
[6] Acta SS., May, vol. iii., p. 215.
[7] Ibid., Feb., vol. i., p. 679.
[8] Ibid., Jan., vol. ii., p. 87. Compare Singer, Salomon sagen, as above, p. 185.
We read in the life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary that, before* starting on the Crusades, her husband presented her with a ring of which the precious stone possessed the property of breaking when a calamity happened to its donor. This legend, introduced into her life, no doubt on the strength of some historic incident, may be found with slight variations in the life of St. Honoratus of Buzançais. It is a popular theme which has not only been turned to account in the romance of Flores and Blanchfl§eur, but in the Arabian Nights, in a Kalmuk folk-tale, and in more than one Indian story.[[9]]
[9] E. Cosquin, Comes populaires de Lorraine, vol. i., p. 71.
Again, the dramatic adventure that befel the page of St. Elizabeth of Portugal is a Christian adaptation [30]of a narrative that had its origin in India,[[1]] while the story of the crucifix dropped into the sea by St. Francis Xavier and brought to land by a crab is simply borrowed from Japanese mythology.[[2]]
[1] E. Cosquin, La Légende du page de Sainte Elizabeth de Portugal et le conte indien des "Bons Conseils" in the Revue des Questions historiques, vol. lxxiii., 1903, pp. 3-42; Id., La 1égende de Sainte Elizabeth de Portugal et les contes orientaux, ibid., vol. lxxiv., pp. 207-17. Id., Etudes folkloriques, p. 73-162; C. Formichi, La leggenda del paggio di santa Elizabetta in Archivio delle tradizioni popolari, vol. xxii., 1903, pp. 9-30.
[2] Bouhours, Vie de saint Francois Xavier, vol. iii. The Japanese legend is related by A. B. Mitford, Tales of Old Japan, London, 1871, pp. 40-43. Attention is drawn to the loan in the Revue des traditions populaires, 15th August, 1890. I am indebted to M. E. Cosquin for these details.
At Valencia, in the Church of San Salvador, there is preserved a figure of Christ which drifted there miraculously by sea and up-stream; at Santa-Maria del Grao, the port of Valencia, there is another figure of Christ together with a ladder, the one used at His crucifixion, which was also carried by sea in a boat without crew or cargo. As the vessel came to a halt in mid-stream, an altercation arose between the inhabitants of the opposite banks for the possession of the sacred relics. To settle the matter, the boat was towed out to sea, where it was once more left to take what direction it pleased. Straightway it sailed up the river and became stationary close to Santa-Maria del Grao.[[3]]
[3] See Fages, Histoire de saint Vincent Ferrier, vol. ii., pp. 46, 47.
In a similar strain Pausanias describes the coming of the statue of Hercules to Erythrae. It arrived by sea on a raft and came to a halt at the promontory of Juno called Cape Mesata because it was half-way between Erythrx and Chios. From the moment they espied the god, the inhabitants of each of the two towns did their utmost to attract it in their own direction. [31]But the heavens decided in favour of the first. A fisherman of that town named Phormio was warned in a dream that if the women of Erythrx would sacrifice their hair in order to make a cable, they would have no difficulty in drawing in the raft. The Thracian women who inhabited the town made the sacrifice of their locks, and thus secured the miraculous statue for Erythra!. Except for the final details the two legends are identical.[[1]]
[1] Pausanias, vii., 5, 5-8.
Nothing is more common in popular hagiography than this theme of the miraculous advent of a picture or of the body of a saint in a derelict vessel; equally common is the miracle of the ship that comes to a halt or of the oxen who refuse to go any farther, in order to indicate the spot mysteriously predestined for the guardianship of a celestial treasure, or to confirm some church in the legitimate possession of the relics of a saint.[[2]] We need only recall the arrival of St. James in Spain, of St. Lubentius at Dietkirchen, of St. Maternus at Rodenkirchen, of St. Emmerammus at Ratisbonne, of the girdle of the Blessed Virgin at Prato, of the Volto Santo at Lucca.[[3]]
[2] In our own country (Belgium) it is not usual to employ oxen for the transport of sacred objects. Hence, in the legend of "Le Christ des Dames Blanches" of Tirlemont, it is the Canons of Saint Germain who find themselves incapacitated from carrying their precious burden any farther. P. V. Bets, Histoire de Tirlemont, Louvain, 1861, vol. ii., p. 88. The same story is related of the relics of St. George by Gregory of Tours, In gloria martyrum, c. 101.
[3] The documents have been collected by H. Usener, Die Sintflutsagen, Bonn, 1899, pp. 136-37.
These miraculous voyages of crucifixes, Madonnas and statues of saints are particularly abundant in Sicily, as has been proved by recent researches.[[4]] A similar [32] inquiry in other countries would probably be rewarded with equally numerous discoveries.[[1]] In Istria an occurrence of a similar nature is connected with the foundation of the Bishopric of Pedena by Constantine .[[2]]
[4] G. Pitrè, Feste patronali in Sicilia in Biblioteca delle tradizioni popolari Siciliane, vol. xxi., Turin and Palermo, 1900, pp. xx.-xxii.
1 Concerning the miraculous crucifix of Hoboken, near Antwerp, see P. D. Kuyl, Hoboken en zijn wonderdadig Kruisbeeld, Antwerp, 1866, pp. 147-56; concerning the local legend of St. Desiré (Allier) see J. Stramoy, La légende de sainte Agathe in Revue des traditions populaires, vol. xiii., p. 694; on the advent of the relics of St. Thomas at Ortona, A. de Nino, Usi e costumi Abruzzesi, vol. iv, Florence, 1887, p. 151. The legend of St. Rainier of Bagno, ibid., pp. 162-63, may also be mentioned here. A recent work on this subject is that of M. F. de Mely, L'image du Christ du Sancta Sanctorum et les reliques chrétiennes apportées par les flots in Mémoires de la Société des Antiquaires de France, series vii., vol. iii., Paris, 1904, pp. 113-44.
[2] Manzuoli, Vite e fatti de' santi et beati dell' Istria, Venice, 1611, pp. 107-12. [The sentence which follows was omitted in the 3d ed. Ed.]
The Greeks have not neglected to introduce into their lives of saints a theme which had proved so popular among their ancestors. The panegyrist of St. Theodore Siceotes not only made use of it but endowed the animal with a voice in order that it might declare in explicit terms the desire of the saint to rest on the spot he had selected for himself.[[3]] The oxen which drew St. Cyril of Gortina to the scaffold also stopped at the chosen spot in obedience to a divine command,[[4]] and the reader will recall the role attributed to the camels in the history of St. Menas of Egypt.[[5]]
[3] Analectq Bollandiana, vol. xx., p. 269.
[4] Syntaxarium ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae, pp. 17, 750.
[5] Bibl. hag. lat., n. 5921-The site of the Church of S. Auxentius in Cyprus was also indicated by the oxen which carried his relics. C. Sathas, Vies des saints allemands de Chypre in Archives de I'Orient latin, vol. ii., p. 419.
It would be an endless task to draw up a complete list of the stock incidents of hagiography. We have already been able to show from examples that some of them go back to a very remote antiquity. That is [33] a point that cannot be too strongly insisted upon. A number of the legendary themes to be found scattered through the lives of saints, in the histories of the foundation of celebrated shrines, and in the accounts of the origin of certain miraculous pictures, are to be met with in the classics. The people of ancient times would themselves have experienced great difficulty in indicating their origin. For them, as for us, they were as leaves carried hither and thither by the wind.
The picture or letter dropped from heaven, the "acheiropoeetos" or picture not made by human hand, are by no means the invention of Christian narrators. The legend of the Palladium of Troy, the statue of Pallas Athene fallen from the sky, and many other similar legends, show how common such conceptions were among the ancients.[[1]] Like ourselves they were familiar with holy pictures which shed tears,[[2]] with statues bathed in sweat in times of calarnity,[[3]] with voices issuing from marble lips.[[4]
[1] See demonstration of this in E. von Dobschütz, Christusbilder in Texte und Untersuchungen, N.F., vol. iii., Leipzig, 1899.[2] "Apollo triduum, et tres noctes lacrimavit," Livy, x1iii., 13.
[3] "Signa ad Junonis Sospitz sudore manavere," Livy, xxiii., 31.
[4] "Fortunae item muliebris simulacrum, quod est in via Latina non semel sed his locutum constitit, his paene veTbiS: Bene me matronx vidistis riteque dedicastis," Valerius Maximus, i., 8.
The story of some object flung into the sea and recovered from the belly of a fish, to be met with in the lives of St Ambrose of Cahors, St. Maurilius,[[5]] St. Magloire,[[6]] St. Kentigern [[7]] and many others, is nothing more than a reminiscence of the ring of Polycrates, related [34] by Herodotus.[[1]] The swarm of bees that alighted on the cradle of St. Ambrose,[[2]] and which also visited St. Isidore,[[3]] had long before deposited its honey in the mouth of Pindar [[4]] and in that of Plato.[[5]] The miracle of the rock opening to receive St. Thecla[[6]] and St. Ariadne[[7]] in order to snatch them from the pursuit of their persecutors is but an echo of the fable of Daphne, just as the story of St. Barbara recalls that of Danai confined by her father in a brazen tower.[[8]]
[5] See A. Houtin, Les origines de I'Eglise dAngers, Laval, 1901, pp. 54, 55.
[6] Acta SS., Oct., vol. x., p. 787.
[7] Ibid., Jan., vol. i., p. 820.
[1] Herodotus, Hist., iii., 43. Further parallels are quoted by R. Köhler, Kleinere Schriften, Vol. ii., Berlin, 1900, p. 209, note 1.
[2] Vita a Paulino, No. 3.
[3] Acta SS., April, Vol. i., p. 331.
[4] Pausanias, ix., 23, 2.
[5] Cicero, De divinatione, i., 36; Olympiodorus, Vita Platonis, Westermann, p. 1.
[6] Lipsius, Acta apostolorum apocrypha, Vol. i., p. 272.
[7] P. Franchi de' Cavalieri, I martiri di santo Teodoto e di santa Ariadne in Studi e Testi, No. 6, Roma, 1901, p. 132. The Acta sancta- Maria, ancillce in Acta SS., Nov., Vol. i., pp. 201-6, cannot be quoted in evidence, as they are not distinct from those of St. Ariadne.
[8] Papebroch had already noted the borrowing; Acta SS. Bollandiana apologeticis libris in unum volumen nunc primum contractis vindicata, Antwerp, 1755, p. 370.
Suetonius relates how Augustus, one day, when still a child, imposed silence on the frogs that were croaking near his grandfather's villa, and, it is said, he adds, that since then frogs have never croaked on that spot.[[9]] The same marvellous incident is recounted of more than one saint: of St. Rieul, St. Antony of Padua, St. Benno of Meissen, St. George, Bishop of Suelli, St. Ouen, St. Hervatus, St. James of the Marches, St. Segnorina, St. Ulphus.[[10]]
[9] Suetonius, Octavius, xciv. [Antigonos, tells the same thing of Hercules. Keller, P.1.]
[10] The hagiographic documents have been collected by Cahier, Caractéristiques des Saints, Vol. i., pp. 274-76, who did not trouble himself about the early origin of the incident. A large number of legends might be quoted in which other animals play an analogous part. Thus St. Tygris caused some sparrows to keep silence who had disturbed her at her prayers, and they never troubled her again, Acta SS., June, Vol. v., p. 74, note 9. At the request of St. Caesarius of Arles, the wild boars which attracted a crowd of hunters forsook the neighbourhood of his monastery (Acta SS., August, Vol. A., P. 72, note 36). [3d ed. adds references to St. Ursin and St. Martin from Acta SS " Nov., Vol. iv, p. 103.]
[35] The reader will recall the vigorous language in which St. Jerome, in the early part of his life of St. Paul, summed up the horrors of the persecutions under Decius and Valerian: the martyr smeared with honey and exposed to the stings of insects, and yet another who protected himself against the snares of sensual desire by spitting out his tongue in the face of the temptress.[[1]] The magic of St. Jerome's style and the vivid relief of his pictures endow them with a semblance of originality to which they cannot lay claim.[[2]] Martyrdom from insects, which, if we may believe Sozomen, was renewed under Julian, was but another reminiscence of the classics.[[3]] Apuleius, among others, makes mention of it. As for the episode of the tongue, ancient writers have related the story on more than one occasion, attributing it now to the Pythagorean Timycha, now to Lemna the courtesan, and again to the philosopher Zeno of Elea.[[4]] St. Jerome, the recorder of this Christian adaptation of an ancient legend, did not succeed in giving it a permanent attribution. At a later date it was told of the martyr Nicetas, and Nicephorus Callistus [[5]] repeats it once again in connection with an ascetic who lived in the reign of Diocletian.[[6]]
[1] These anonymous martyrs are inscribed in the Roman martyrology for 28th July. [This note in the 3d ed. reads simply Metamorph., V111 22.]
[2] [See P. Franchi de' Cavalieri, Haglographica, p. 124. We do not forget the torment of Mark of Arethusa: Gregory of Nazianzus, In Iulian., I, 89; Sozomène, Hist. eccl., V, 10. (See p. 104 n. I below, ed.).]
[3] Metamorph., viii., 22.
[4] The chief classical texts are quoted by Wachsmuth, Berichte der k. Sächs. Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften, Phil. Hist. Cl., Vol. Viii., 1856, p. 132.
[5] Acta SS., Sept., Vol. iv., P. Vii.
[6] Hist. Eccles., Vol. vii., chap. 13.
[36] It seems scarcely necessary to remind the reader of the legend of the Seven Sleepers. The conception of a long sleep, which occurs in the history of Epimenides, has never ceased to have currency in folk tales, and it has been repeated with endless variations.[[1]]
[1] H. Demoulin, Epiménide de Crète in the Bibliothèque de la Faculté de Philosophie et Lettres de I'Université de Liége, fasc. Xii., Brussels, 1901, pp. 95-100, in which other versions of the sleep legend are indicated.
The apparent complexity of certain legends and the startling effect of certain combinations which appear highly ingenious must not deceive us, and we must not hastily draw conclusions in favour of the creative faculty of popular genius. The historic elements which do not lend themselves to simplification are merely placed in juxtaposition, and bound together by a very slender thread. The result is usually an incoherent narrative, which in most cases is distinguished by its extraordinary improbability, though on occasions the effect is not devoid of impressiveness.
The following, for example, is one version of the legend of the wood of the cross. Adam, driven from Paradise, took with him a branch of the tree of knowledge, which served him as a staff to the end of his days. This stick passed down from hand to hand to the patriarchs, and during the wars an angel hid it in a cave where it was discovered by Jethro while herding his flocks. In his old age Jethro sent a message to Moses to come and take the staff, which on the arrival of the prophet sprang miraculously towards him. Moses made use of it to hang from it the brazen serpent. Later Phineas became possessed of it and buried it in the desert. At the time of the birth of Christ the precise spot was revealed to St. Joseph, who [37] found the staff on the occasion of the flight into Egypt. He handed it on to his son Jacob, who gave it to the traitor Judas, and through him it came into the hands of the executioners of Jesus Christ, and from it the cross was made.[[1]]
[1] Fr. Kampers, Mittelalterliche Sagen vom Paradiese und vom Holze des kreuzes Christi, Cologne, 1897, pp. 89, 90. cf. W. Meyer, Die Geschichte des Kreuzholzes vor Christus in Abhandlungen der k. Bayer. Akademie der Wissenschatten, i. Cl., vol. xvi., 1881.
It will be admitted that, reduced to these terms, the legend of the wood of the cross does not give evidence of much wealth of invention, although the root idea of the mysterious continuity of the Old and the New Testament upon which the story has been clumsily built lends it a certain dignity.
The legend of Judas's thirty pieces of silver runs on similar lines. The money was coined by the father of Abraham, and with it Abraham bought a field as a burial-place for himself and his family. Later the coins passed into the possession of the sons of Jacob, to whom they were paid over by the slave merchants who purchased Joseph. With the identical coins they paid for the corn which Joseph procured for them in Egypt. At the death of Jacob they were given in payment for the spices for his tomb, and thus passed into the land of Sheba, and there remained until they were sent with other gifts by the Queen of Sheba to Solomon's Temple. From Jerusalem the coins were transfermcl to Arabia, to return with the Magi. The Blessed Virgin took the money with her to Egypt, and there lost it. It was found by a shepherd, who hoarded it until, struck with leprosy, he went to Jerusalem to implore Jesus to cure him. As a thank-offering he presented the thirty pieces of silver to the Temple, and [38] they thus became, in the hands of the chief priests, the price of Judas's betrayal. But Judas repented, and restored the price of his sin to the priests, who gave half of it to the soldiers on guard at the sepulchre and the other half to the potter for the field to be a burying place for strangers.[[1]]
[1] See, for example, A. Graf, Roma nella memoria e nelle immaginazioni del medio evo, Turin, 1883, vol. ii., pp. 462-63; L. De Feis, Le Monete del prezzo di Giuda in Studi Religiosi, vol. ii., 1902, pp. 412-30, 506-21. Note also, by the way, the version of the legend of the thirty pieces of silver in Solomon of Basrah, The Book of the Bee, edited by E. A. W. Budge, Oxford, 1886, p. 94 and following.
By a succession of similar combinations men have succeeded in identifying the stone which served as a pillow for the patriarch Jacob with that which supports the throne of the Kings of England at their coronation in Westminster Abbey.[[2]] One might quote many examples of such childish concatenations of historical reminiscences resulting in narratives which appear to be carefully elaborated, but which are, in reality, of puerile simplicity.
[2] J. H. Rivett-Carnac, La piedra de la coronación en la abadia de Westminster y su conexion legendaria con Santiago de Compostela in the Boletin de la real academia de la Historia, vol. xl., 1902, pp. 430-38.
Popular imagination in its workings has not been restricted to the famous names and great events of sacred history. It has frequently given itself free scope in relation to the history of certain well-known saints, who, owing to the existence of their tombs and the veneration paid to their.memories, could neither be passed over in silence nor fused into one. The recognised procedure was to group them together, to imagine links of kindred or of some common action between them, to forge a history in which each should play a [39] well-defined rôle, without ever stopping to inquire whether a particular saint might not be acting quite incompatible parts in two different stories. In this way, with the assistance of historical names and a topographical setting, whole cycles of purely imaginary legends have been composed.
The best-known example of this is that of the Roman martyrs of whom the legends form a series of cycles each one embracing a certain number of saints who frequently had nothing in common save the place of their sepulture.[[1]] Some of these legends are interesting and in places poetic; others-and they are in the majority-are trivial and meaningless. Nevertheless, if we study them as a whole, we can derive from them a picture which is not the result of design yet is none the less impressive; and if a poet had arisen to put into shape the raw material of these rude narratives, he might have drawn from them an epic poem of Christian Rome, from the foundation of the Mother and Mistress of Churches by St. Peter, through the bloody conflicts of the days of persecution, down to the final triumph under Sylvester and Constantine. Unhappily the man of genius who might have endowed us with this work of art has never arisen, and our sense of the grandeur of the subject only gives us a more vivid perception of the poverty of the legends that remain to us, and the lack of inspiration and originality in the creations of the people at large.
[1] Analecta Bollandiana, vol. xvi., pp. 2-7 and following.
[40]
II.
Predominance of sense impressions over the intelligence -
Localisation and foot-prints - Literary origin of
certain of these - Iconographic legends - Popular etymology - Miracles - The soul of the
people - Energy
of expression - Exaggerated feeling - Ambitions of individual churches - Morality of the
mob - Local claims.
The brain of the multitude has been shown to be narrow, incapable of coping with any large number of ideas at once, or indeed with even a single idea of any complexity, equally incapable of applying itself to prolonged or subtle reasoning, but, on the other hand, fully prepared to receive impressions through the senses. The idea may fade quickly away, but the picture remains; it is the material side of things which attracts the populace, and it is to sensible objects that all the people's thoughts and affections cling. In this respect popular intelligence scarcely exceeds the intellectual level of a child, who, equally indifferent to abstract concepts, turns instinctively towards that which appeals to the senses. All the child's ideas and reminiscences are indissolubly linked to material and palpable objects.
Thus it is that great men live far less in the memory of their countrymen than in the stones, rocks or buildings with which it pleases people to connect their names. For, in the first place, the popular mind craves for what is definite and concrete. It is not satisfied with knowing that some celebrated personage passed through the country. It wishes to identify the precise spot on which he stood, the tree that gave him shelter, the house in which he lodged. Thus we have Alexander's oak, shown in the days of Plutarch near the Cephisus to mark the spot where he pitched his [41] tent at the battle of Chaeronea;[[1]] Horace's house at Venusium, an ancient ruin shown under his name even in our own day, although no historical tradition connects it with the poet; and finally Virgil's house at Brindisi, the remains of a structure only built in the sixteenth century.[[2]]
[1] Plutarch, Alexander, ix., 2.
[2] F. Lenormant, À travers I'Apulie et la Lucanie, vol. i., Paris, 1883, pp. 202-3. In the same way the site of Ovid's house is still shown at Sulmona. A. de Nino, Ovidio nella tradizione popolare di Suhnona, Casalbordino, 1886, p. 21.
In the same way the populace always feels constrained to explain the origin or the purpose of whatever impresses it and to bestow a name upon every object that excites its attention. Like a child it contents itself with the first explanation that soothes its imagination and satisfies its craving for knowledge, while reflection and the critical faculty never enlighten it concerning the insufficiency or improbability of what it invents. Thus it becomes a matter of course that people. should transfer to the curious features of natural scenery or to the constructions of bygone ages, both the pictures that haunt their imagination and the celebrated names that live in their memory. It is one and the same psychological cause, which, all the world over, has bestowed well-known names on rocks of unwonted shape or natural grottoes which attract attention.
In the religious sphere the popular instinct asserts itself very emphatically in both these directions.
From this point of view nothing is more instructive than accounts of pilgrimages to celebrated shrines and more especially to the Holy Land. The earliest narratives by pious pilgrims [[3]] betray no trace of the [42] ignorance and hesitation of our most learned exegetes in topographical matters, and with glorious assurance they will point out to you the precise spot where David composed his psalms, the rock smitten by Moses, the cave that sheltered Elijah, without counting the places mentioned in the Gospels of which not one is forgotten, not even the house of the wicked Dives, or the tree into which Zaccheus climbed. To show the extent to which material things dominate the intelligence and stifle the powers of reflection, people have pretended to have seen the "comer-stone which the builders rejected" and have begged for relics " de lignis trium tabernaculorum:' those three tabernacles which St. Peter, in his ecstasy, proposed to erect on the mountain of the Transfiguration.[[1]]
[3] See more especially the narratives of Antoninus, of Theodosius, and Adamnan; Geyer, Itinera Hierosolymilana saec., iv.-viii., in the Corpus script. Eccl. lat., vol. xxxix.
[1] Angilberti abbatis de ecclesia Centulensi libellus, M. G., Scr., vol. xv., p. 176.
In a similar way the names of saints are frequently linked with monuments or remarkable places which appeal to the popular imagination. Thus it is quite natural that in Rome the Marnertine prison should be selected as the scene of St Peter's imprisonment, and that men should be enabled to point out the precise spot where Simon Magus fell: Silex ubi cecidit Simon Magus.[[2]] Neither is it surprising that in Ireland so many places are connected with the memory of St Patrick, or at Naples with that of St. Januarius, or in Touraine and the neighbourhood of Autun with St. Martin.
[2] L. Duchesne, Le forum chretien, Rome, 1899, p. 17.
It is furthermore only a particular example of a universal phenomenon that people should recognise in the hollows of rocks the imprint of the feet, hands or knees of St. Peter, St. George and St. Martin, just as in other [43] localities one is shown the footprints of Adam and Abraham, of Moses and Buddha.[[1]] That a large number of such attributions, more especially in the case of megalithic monuments, should have been christianised, and that the Blessed Virgin and the saints should have been substituted for the heroes of heathen legends, need excite no surprise. Whether St. Cornelius, in preference to all others, by turning the soldiers of King Adar to stone, should have created the long lines of menhirs at Camac and Erdeven in Brittany,[[2]] or whether it was a fairy rather than St. Frodoberta, who dropped a lapful of stones, useless for building purposes,[[3]] near the lake of Maillard in the department of Seine-et-Mame, the popular tradition remains unaffected, testifying in each case that there is as yet no advance beyond the intellectual level of childhood.
[1] S. Reinach, Les monuments de pierre brute dans le langage et les croyances populaires in the Revue archgologique, 3rd series, vol. xxi., p. 224.
[2] S. Reinach, loc. cit., p. 355.
[3] Ibid., p. 354-A great number of miraculous imprints have been pointed out in Italy by various scholars who have published their notes in the Archivio per lo studio delle Tradizioni popolari, vol. xxii., 1903, p. 128, and the preceding years. A considerable number of these imprints are attributed to various popular saints. [Other examples are to be found in F. Lanzoni, Le fonti della leggenda di Sant' Apollinare di Ravenna, Bologna, 1915, p. 57.]
It must not be forgotten that very precise identifications of locality may frequently be traced to a purely literary origin. Thus at Verona, where Romeo and Juliet only lived in the imagination of poets,[[4]] travellers are shown both their palace and their tomb, while the two ruined castles perched on the neighbouring hills [44] have become those of the Capulets and Montagues.[[1]] In Alsace are we not shown the forge! which Schiller has "immortalised" by his ballad of Fridolin, and the castle of the Counts of Saverne, who none the less never existed?[[2]] This last example proves that in these cases tradition does not take long to germinate and blossom. Until the old legend was turned into verse by Schiller in 1797, Alsace had never been regarded as the home of the incident. Yet it was sufficient for the ballad to become popular for the event to be materialised and localised in the most precise fashion.
[4] L. Frankel, Untersuchungen zur Entwicklungsgeschichte des Stoffes von Romeo und Julia, in Zeitschrift für vergleichende Litteraturgeschichte, N.F., vol. iii., 1890, p. 171-210; vol. iv, 1891, 48-91; G. Brognoligo, La leggenda di Giulietta e Romeo in Giornale Linguistico, vol. xix, 1892, p. 423-39. [There is a useful bibliography, with discussion, of the Romeo and Juliet sources in E. K. Chambers, William Shakespeare, Oxford, 1930, vol. i, 340 ff. Ed.]
[1] The Cappelletti and the Montecchi according to Dante are types, and in no sense historical characters. R. Davidsohn, Die Feindschaft der Montecchi und Cappelletti ein Irrtum in Deutsche Rundschau, Dec., 1903, pp. 419-28. On 8th July, 1905, the "historic" house of Juliet was purchased by the municipality of Verona. See The Times of 10th July, 1905.
[2] W. Hertz, Deutsche Sage im Elsass, Stuttgart, 1872, pp. 278 and following.
Of such topographical transference to suit the requirements of a legend there is no lack of examples in hagiography. At Sofia (Sardica), near the Church of St. Petka (Parasceve), may be seen an ancient tree-trunk partially built into the wall and scored with many notches. The people call it the tree of St. Therapon, and believe that the saint suffered his martyrdom near by. On his feast-day, 27th May, they go in pilgrimage to the spot, and make a point of carrying away with them some small piece of the sacred tree to which they attribute miraculous virtues. Now, in point of fact, St. Therapon did not die at Sardica; he was a native of Sardis, but according to the legend a great oak-tree sprang up from the ground that had been soaked with his blood. This evergreen oak was said still to exist [45] and to cure every disease.[[1]] The confusion between Sardis and Sardica having once established itself, it became easy to transplant the miraculous tree.[[2]]
[1] Synaxarium ecclesim Constantinopolitamr, p. 711.
[2] C. Jirecek, Das christliche Element in der topographischen Nomenclatur der Balkanländer in the Sitzungsberichte der kaiserlich. Akademie, vol. cxxxvi., 1897, pp. 54-55. Other examples of similar instances are to be found in this essay.
In the face of facts such as these, need we insist on the illusory nature of the process which consists in tracing the itinerary of a saint by means of the landmarks established by legends? If this has sometimes been attempted, it has not been precisely in the higher interests of history.3
[3] J. G. Bulliot et F. Thiollier, La mission et le culte de St. Martin d'après les légendes et les monuments populaires dans le pays éduen, Autun-Paris, 1892, vi., p. 483. The life of St. Radegonde has been the object of a similar attempt. See Analecia Bollandiana, vol. x., pp. 59-60.
Popular imagination in the past has not exercised itself solely on rough-hewn stones and buildings. Carved figures wrongly interpreted have proved the startingpoint of a number of quaint legends.[[4]] A poet is represented with his foot on a large book: he must be the most learned of men, for he can read with his feet.[[5]] The two fine equestrian statues on Monte Cavallo (now Piazza del Quirinale) in Rome gave currency during the Middle Ages to a most curious tale. It was said that they represented two celebrated philosophers named Phidias and Praxiteles, who came to Rome during the reign of Tiberius, and had the singular habit of walking [46] about the city in a state of nudity, in order to inculcate the vanity of the things of this world.[[1]]
[4] C. Kinkel, Mosaik zur Kunstgeschichle, Berlin, 1876, devotes a whole chapter to this question: Sagen aus Kunstwerken entstanden, pp. 161-243.
[5] A. de Nino, Ovidio nella tradizione popolare di Sulmona. p. 17
[1] C. L. Urlichs, Codex urbis Roma topographicus, Wirceburgi, 1871, pp. 122-23.
Every sort of invention has been forthcoming to explain the representations of saints. It was obviously the common people who created the naïve legend of the saints who carry their own heads, suggested by a prevalent iconographic type, [[2]] and the legend of St. Nicholas and the three children is usually traced to a similar source.[[3]] A symbol interpreted in a materialistic sense has built up a regular romance around an incident in the life of St. Julian,[[4]] and we shall see later on that the extraordinary history of St. Liberata or Uncumber merely translates into popular language the explanation of certain peculiar features in a picture.
[2] Ch. de Smedt, Principes de la critique historique, pp. 188-92. [This paragraph has been revised in the 3d ed. and St. Lucy adduced as an example, while the saints carrying their own heads have been omitted. The rev. fn. cites Anal. Boll., vol. xxxix, p. 162.]
[3] Cahier, Caractéristiques des Saints, vol. i., p. 304.
[4]A. Ledru, Le premier miracle attribui à Saint Julien in La province du Maine, vol. x., 1892, pp. 177-85. Cf. Analecta Bollandiana, vol. xxii., p. 351.
The following is another example, drawn from hagiography. An inscription, now to be seen in the Marseilles Museum, makes mention of a certain Eusebia, Abbess of St. Quiricus, Hic requiescit in Oace Eusebia religiosa magna ancella Dei, etc., without any indication that would lead one to assume the existence of any cultus of this admirable woman. But her body had been laid in a sarcophagus of older date adorned with the figure of the dead person for whom it had been originally intended. It was the bust of a beardless man, which, in the course of time, had become damaged and mutilated. This fact was sufficient to give rise to a legend, and it was told how St. Eusebia, abbess of a convent at Marseilles, and her forty [47] companions cut off their noses to escape from the violence of the Saracens. "Quam traditionern confirMat generosm illius heroine effigies, dimidia facie et naso, praeciso supra tumulum posita cum epigraphe," writes a Benedictine, quoted by M. Le Blant.[[1]]
[1] Le Blant, Inscriptions Chrétiennes de la Gaule, n. 545.
Again, more than one legend owes its existence to names incorrectly understood or to resemblances of sound. To the curious examples of popular etymology collected by various learned authors,[[2]] we might add a large number of cases bearing specially on hagiography. We must, however, restrict ourselves to a few cursory indications.
[2] A. F. Pott, Etymologische Legenden bei den Alten in Philologus, Supplement band, vol. ii., Heft 3; 0. Keller, Lateinische Volksetymologie, Leipzig, 1891; 0. Weise, Zur Charakteristik der Volksetymologie in Zeitschrift für Volkerpsychologie, vol. xii., 1880, pp. 203-23.
The Church of St. Nereus and Achilleus on the Appian Way close to the Thermae of Caracalla formerly bore the name of Titulus de Fasciola.[[3]] Opinions differ as to the meaning of the title. Some consider Fasciola to be the name of the foundress. Others regard it merely as a topographical expression of obscure origin. The erudite may hesitate: popular legend sees no cause for hesitation. The name Fasciola is a reminiscence of St. Peter. As he was passing by the spot on leaving prison he dropped the bandage that bound up his injured leg. "Tunc beatissimus Petrus," says an old writer, "dum tibiam. demolitam haberet de compede ferri, cecidit ei fasciola ante Septisolium in via nova,"[[4]] Here, indeed, we may see the naïveté of a people who [48] imagine that a great man cannot even drop a handkerchiLief without the spot being immediately marked and renmembered in order that the incident may be recorded by a monument.
[3] Concerning the title of Fasciola, see De Rossi, Bullettino di archeologia cristiana, 1875, pp. 49-56. [Added in 3d ed.: 1. p. Kirsch, Die röischen Titelkirchen im Altertum, Paderborn, 1918, p. 909-94.]
[4] Acta SS., Processi et Martiniani, BHL, n. 6947.
The influence of sound on the popular impressions formed of certain saints is well known, and we are all aware that at times something little better than a pun decides the choice of a patron. Thus, in France, St. Clare is invoked by those who suffer from their eyes because she enables people to see clearly; St Ouen cures deafness because he enables them to hear (Ouïr) St. Cloud cures boils (clous). Again, in certain parts o Germany St. Augustine is believed to rid people of diseases of the eye (Auge), and in others of a cough (Husten). Writers have drawn up lists of these conceits, [[1]] which are not solely due to popular imagination, and which learned men have amused themselves by multiplying. There is one of comparatively recent date which enjoys a surprising and regrettable popularity: St. Expeditus, thanks to his name, has been acclaimed as the advocate of urgent causes.[[2]]
[1] Mélusine, vol. iv., pp. 505-24; vol. v., p. 152.
[2] See later, chap. iii., par. 2. Compare Analecta Bollandiana, vol. xviii., p. 425; vol. xxv., pp. 90-98.
It also happens that, under the influence of phonetic laws, the names of certain saints have become quite unrecognisable. On the Via Porto near Rome there may be seen a little country church belonging to the basilica of Santa Maria in Via Lata, known under the title of Santa Passera. Who is this saint who may be searched for in vain in the Calendar? Will it be believed that the name and the chapel are intended to recall the translation of the relics of SS. Cyrus and John, martyrs, formerly honoured at Menouthis near Alexandria? [49] St. Cyrus, Abba Kyros, Abbacirus, has finally become transformed into Passera.[[1]] Has the metamorphosis ended there, or has the new saint acquired a legend of her own? I do not know, but even were it so I should feel no astonishment The least that could be done was to confuse St Passera with St Praxedes, and sure enough the opportunity has not been missed.[[2]]
[1] Abbacyrus, Abbaciro, Abbáciro, Pácero, Pácera, Passera, such is the series of changes traced by M. Tomassetti in the Archivio Storico Romano, vol. xxii., p. 465. Passera and Aboukir are thus exact counterparts.-One may also quote Sancta Fumia on the Appian Way. This saint is no other than St. Euphemia. De Rossi, Bullettino di archeologia cristiana, 1869, p. 80. There is also St. Twosole, in whom it is not easy to recognise St. Oswald. J. Aubrey, Remains of Gentilism and Judaism, ed. J. Britten, London, 1881, p. 29.
[2] Tomassetti as above, vol. xxii., p. 466. The Venetian dialect is specially rich in transformations of saints' names, very bewildering to strangers. Thus in Venice the church of San Marcuola is, in reality dedicated to SS. Ermagora e Fortunato; San Trovaso is an adaptation of S. Gervasio e Protasio; San Zanipolo of S. Giovanni e Paolo; San Stae of S. Eustachio; San Zandegola of S. Giovanni decollato; San Stin of S. Stefanin; San Boldo of S. Ubaldo; San Lio of S. Leone, etc. See G. Tassini, Curiosita Veneziane, 4th edition, Venice, 1887, p. 428 and following. [One may find other interesting exampIes of the phonetic transformation of saints' names in A. Longnon, Les noms de lieu de la France, Paris, 1920-1923, p. 400- 446. 3d ed.]
We have surely said enough to show how, among the people, the senses predominate over the intelligence, and how owing to the lethargy of their brains they are unable to rise to an ideal conception, but stop short at the matter, the image, the sound. It is furthermore by this spiritual feebleness that one must account for the blind attraction of the populace for the miraculous and the sensibly supernatural. The thought of the invisible guidance of Providence does not suffice; the interior working of grace offers nothing that can be grasped, and the mysterious colloquies of the soul with God must be translated into palpable results in order to produce any impression on the [50] popular mind. The supernatural is only impressive when it is combined with the marvellous. Hence it is that popular legends overflow with marvels. Visions, prophecies and miracles play a necessary part in the lives of saints.
We shall not refer here to the wonders accomplished through the intercession of the miracle-working saints on behalf of those who visit their tombs or touch their relics; these constitute a special category which deserves separate treatment. But the narrative of the acts of the saint himself is, as it were, impregnated with the miraculous. Even before his birth his greatness is foreshadowed, and his cradle is enveloped in visible signs of divine protection. Angels guard his footsteps, Nature obeys him, wild beasts recognise his authority. In urgent peril he can always count on the intervention of the celestial powers. One might almost say that God Himself seems to favour the very caprices of His friends and seems to multiply miracles without any apparent motive. The staff of St. Gangericus (Géry) remained upright throughout the prayers of the saint,[[1]] and the same thing occurred while St Junianus conversed with King Clothair.[[2]] Various saints hung their cloaks on a sunbeam or brought birds to life when they were already turning on the spit. Blessed Marianus Scotus had no need of a candle when writing at night as his fingers gave out the necessary light.[[3]] In answer to the prayer of St. Sebald, a peasant obtained a similar privilege until he had found his strayed oxen .[[4]] An eagle sheltered St. Ludwin from the sun's rays with his wings,[[5]] and the servant of St Landoald brought his [51] master fire in the folds of his robe.[[1]] The miracle of Joshua was renewed, we learn, in the person of St. Ludwill in order to allow him to confer ordination on one and the same day at Reims and at Laon .[[2]] In this direction popular imagination knows no bounds, nor can it be denied that, more especially in certain surroundings, among nations of a poetic temperament, these bold and naive fictions frequently attain to real beauty.
[1] Acta SS., Aug., vol. ii., p. 674.
[2] Ibid., Aug., vol. iii., p. 41.
[3] Ibid., Feb., vol. ii., p. 367.
[4] Ibid., Aug., vol. iii., p. 772.
[5] Ibid., March, vol. i., p. 319; see ante, p. 29
[1] Acta SS., March, vol. iii., p .36.
[2] Ibid., Sept., vol. viii., p. 171.
One must not, however, exaggerate the fertility of these hagiographic trovatori.* A methodical classification of the themes employed by them compels one to realise that repetitions are numerous, and that it is chiefly by means of new combinations of familiar topics that an appearance of variety is conferred on different groups of legends of the saints. Above all, we must be on our guard against the belief that from the aesthetic point of view the level of the miraculous creations of popular hagiography is, as a rule, a high one. Putting aside an. occasional happy thought or a few interesting ideas worked out with some ingenuity, the material of these biographies is as a rule deplorably commonplace even where it is not beyond measure whimsical and extravagant. The imagination, overexcited by the craving for the marvellous, and possessed by a burning desire to outstrip one extraordinary narrative by another more extraordinary still, has only too frequently overstepped all bounds in a region in which an unlimited field appears to open out before the creative faculties.
[* trovatori: the original in Delehaye is trouveurs, i.e., trouvires, the mediaeval poets of Northern France. Ed.]
The familiar miracle of the arrival of relics on a derelict vessel [[3]] ended by appearing tame and vulgar. [52] Some one, therefore, invented the idea of a heavy sarcophagus floating on the water. It was in a stone coffin that St. Mamas landed in Cyprus,[[1]] as also did St. Julian at Rimini [[2]] and St. Liberius at Ancona.[[3]] For a babe to leap in its mother's womb like St. John the Baptist was not enough to foreshadow the greatness of a saint. St Fursey spoke before his birth,[[4]] so also did St. Isaac, who made his voice heard three times in one day.[[5]]This miracle scarcely surpasses that of St. Rumwold, an infant who lived but three days after birth, but who not only repeated his profession of faith in such a way as to be understood by all present, but also preached a long sermon to his parents before breathing his last. [[6]]
[3] see above, p. 30.
[1] Stefano Lusignano, Raccolta di cinque discorsi intitolati corone, Padua, 1577, cor. iv., p. 52.
[2] Acta SS., June, vol. iv., p. 139.
[3] Ibid., May, vol., vi., p. 729.
[4] Ibid., Jan., vol. ii., p. 45
[5] Ibid., June, vol. i., p. 325. The incident of the child speaking before its birth has not been utilised by hagiographers alone. See Méllusine, vol. iv., pp. 228, 272-77, 297, 323, 405, 447; vol. v., pp. 36, 257; vol. vi., p. 91; vol. vii., pp. 70, 141.
[6] Acta SS., Nov., vol. i., p. 605.
In the Acta Petri we read not only of a child seven months old addressing violent reproaches "in manly tones" to Simon Magus,[[7]] but also of a big dog who conversed with St. Peter by whom it was , entrusted with a message for Simon.[[8]]. Commodianus has also commemorated a lion who miraculously made., a speech in support of the preaching of St. Paul [[9]] Such [53] narratives may perhaps be mere reminiscences of Balaam's ass, unless indeed the incidents were inspired by a study of the fabulists.
[7] R. A. Lipsius, Acta apostolorum apocrypha, vol. i., Leipzig, 1891, pp. 61, 62. In Commodianus, Carmen apolog., vi., 630, the child is only five months old. Cf. C. Schmidt, Die alten Petrusakten in Texte und Untersuchungen, vol. xxiv., 1903, pp. 106-'7.
[8] Lipsius, A, vol. i., pp. 56-60.
[9] Carmen apolog., v., pp. 57, 58. Cf. Schmidt, vol. xxiv., pp. 108-9.
These excesses lead us to speak of the passions to which the popular mind is liable, passions intense and unrestrained, and impressing everything they touch with that element of exaggeration and even of violence of which so many legends have preserved the trace. The populace can only be moved by strong emotions, and it has no idea of keeping its feelings under control. It takes no account of delicate shades, and just as it is incapable of perceiving them so it is incompetent to express them. But it makes use of energetic language to affirm its impressions and enunciate its ideas.
The following fact concerning St. Cataldus is a small example from among many. His sanctity having betrayed itself by extraordinary manifestations which appeared to be