The early Syrian and Egyptian hermits would have become a sect of manichÆan heretics but for the popularity of the profession and the Arian persecution. In quitting the world they cut themselves off from the churches. They no more took part in its assemblies, participated in the sacraments, nor observed the sacred seasons. Paul, the first hermit, deserted the society of men when aged fifteen, and lived till the age of a hundred and ten in solitude without ever having partaken of the Bread of Life. S. Mary of Egypt spent forty-seven years in the Wilderness, stark naked, covered with hair like a wild beast, and only received the Viaticum when dying, by the chance of a priest passing that way. A fifteenth century statue of her, nearly life-size, is in the National Museum at Munich, removed from the Cathedral of Augsburg as indelicate. S. Antony spent twenty years in a sort of cistern, and only twice a year received loaves, let down from above through the roof. Certainly all that time he was voluntarily excommunicate. If S. Hilarius ever made sacramental communion we are not told, but we do know that he was for ever hiding himself from where were his fellow- men, in wilds and oases, and where there were no Christian churches.
In the desert, times and seasons slipped away, and became confounded, so that by the first hermits neither Easter nor the Lord's Day were observed. In the Gospel, the works of mercy, feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and prisoners, are appointed as the means of deserving a reward in heaven, but the anchorites neglected every one, cut themselves adrift from the chance of performing them, and sought to merit heaven in their own way. Christ declared, "Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink His blood, ye have no life in you," but they wilfully lived apart from the sacramental life as surely as any modern Quaker.
But when crowds of refugees from the duties and pleasures of life sought the desert, they ceased to be solitaries, and organisation on a monarchical system under an abbot became necessary; and when bishops and priests fled to them, or were banished and sought them, during the Arian persecution, they came to plume themselves as champions of orthodoxy, and conformed to Catholic usage, assembling on the Lord's Day for prayers and the Eucharist. When the fashion set in for deserting the world, floods of men, women, and children threw themselves into it, and flowed into the desert during a century with resistless force. Pachomius, who died at fifty-six, reckoned three thousand monks under his rule; the monasteries of Tabenna soon included seven thousand, and S. Jerome affirms that as many as fifty thousand were present at the annual gathering of the general congregation of monasteries that followed his rule.
There were five thousand on the mountain of Nitria; near ArsinoË the Abbot Serapion governed ten thousand. It has even been asserted that there were as many monks in the deserts of Egypt as inhabitants in the towns. The immense majority of these religious were cenobites; that is to say, they lived in the same enclosure, and were united under an elected head, the abbot. The cenobitical life rapidly and necessarily superseded that of the solitary. In fact the monks were now no more solitaries than are the jackdaws in a cleft, or the bees in a hive, but unlike the jackdaws, they were under discipline, and unlike bees were without a sting.
It was not mere love of an indolent life and a desire to escape from military service that swelled the numbers in the desert. The condition of the decaying Roman world led men to despair of the Commonwealth, and of the possibility of their being able to save their own souls in the midst of the general corruption. "The people were exhausted by compulsory taxes, to be spent in wars which did not concern them, or in Court luxury in which they had no share. In the municipal towns liberty and justice were dead. The curials, who were responsible for the payment of the public moneys, tried their best to escape the unpopular office, and when compelled to serve wrung the money in self-defence out of the poorer inhabitants by every kind of tyranny. Private profligacy among all ranks was such as cannot be described in any modern pages. The regular clergy of the cities were able to make no stand against the general corruption of the age because—at least if we are to trust such writers as Jerome and Chrysostom—they were giving themselves up to ambition and avarice, vanity and luxury; and, as a background to all these seething heaps of decay, misrule and misery, hung the black cloud of the barbarians, waxing stronger and stronger so that the wisest Romans saw clearly as the years rolled on, they would soon be the conquerors of the Caesars and the masters of the Western world.
"No wonder, if in such a state of things, the minds of men were stirred by a passion akin to despair, which ended in a new and grand form of suicide. It would have ended often, but for Christianity, in such an actual despair as that which had led in past ages more than one noble Roman to slay himself, when he lost all hope for the Republic. That the world—such at least as they saw it then—was doomed, Scripture and their own reason taught them. They did not merely believe, but saw, in the misery and confusion, the desolation and degradation around them, that the world was passing away, and the lust thereof, and that only he who did the will of God could abide for ever. They did not merely believe, but saw that the wrath of God was revealed from Heaven against all unrighteousness of men. Under these terrible forebodings, men began to flee from a doomed world, and try to be alone with God, if by any means they might save each man his own soul in that dread day." [Footnote: Kingsley (C.), "The Hermits," Lond. 1868.]
In the year 336 Athanasius was in exile at TrÈves. He is traditionally held to have there occupied a cave beyond the Moselle. The Bishop Maximinus received him with honour. Early in his episcopate Athanasius had visited the congregation of monks on the Upper Nile, and he was enthusiastic in his admiration of their manner of life. It is supposed that whilst at TrÈves he began to write the "Life of S. Anthony," if indeed he was the author of that popular work. Here he is thought to have been visited by Maxentius, Bishop of Poitiers, and brother of the Bishop of TrÈves, bringing with him Martin, then a friend and pupil of S. Hilary, this latter at the time a wealthy noble of Poitiers. And from the discourse of Athanasius, if this meeting actually took place, the imagination of Martin was fired with ambition to reproduce in Europe the life of the fathers of the desert in Egypt.
Anyhow, to this residence of Athanasius at TrÈves, "one may trace the introduction into the Western Church of the principle and laws of ascetic self-renunciation, which, though they had run to great extremes in the Nitrian desert and in the valley of the Nile, assumed noble form when the idea took possession of the more phlegmatic temperament and practical energies of the West. Without discussing the vexed question of the authorship of the 'Life of S. Anthony,' which is referred by many traditional testimonies to Athanasius, we think it obvious, from the 'Confessions' of Augustine, that the religious circles at TrÈves had been strongly moved by the self-abandonment and entire consecration to the religious life of the exiled bishops. It was here, while reading the 'Life of S. Anthony' that the friends of Augustine at length yielded themselves to God." [Footnote: Reynolds (H. R.), "Athanasius, his Life and Life-work," Lond., R.T.S., 1889, p. 54.]
Martin was at Poitiers in 361 when S. Hilary had returned from exile to his bishopric and to his wife and daughter. He had been living the eremitic life on the isle of Gallinaria, shaped so like a snail, off the coast of Albenga, and had nearly poisoned himself with trying to eat hellebore leaves. On reaching Poitiers, he told his old friend the Bishop, that he desired to follow the monastic life in his diocese, and obtained his cheerful consent. Some way up the Clain, five miles from Poitiers, the little river glides through a broad valley, with meadows on its left bank often overflowed, but with a ridge of conglomerate rocks pierced with caves on the right bank. Here Martin settled, and there can exist no manner of doubt that his first settlement was in one of these grottoes, though at a later period the monastery was moved to the further side of the river, when the caves proved inadequate to harbour all the candidates for the religious life who placed themselves under his direction. One of his monks, however, named Felix, refused to quit his cave that is now shown, and in which he died perhaps, in an inaccessible cliff that is surmounted by a cross.
The friable conglomerate has yielded to storm and rain, and much of it has crumbled down; but the openings to the caves are visible from below, where the slopes are purple and fragrant with violets and, later, pink with primulas, and the rocks are wreathed with clematis. A pure spring bursts forth at the foot and works its way through beds of forget-me-not and marsh marigold to the Clain.
Martin had been ordained exorcist and then priest.
His most trusted disciples were Felix, Macarius, and Florentius. As already said, except in the Gallo-Roman cities, Christianity did not exist. The country-folk were pagans. Martin lifted up his eyes and saw that the fields were white to harvest. He preached throughout Poitou and La VendÉe, and visited the coast to the isles of Yeu and RÉ. He travelled on foot, or mounted on an ass, sought every village and hamlet, to sow the seed of the Word of God, and where he could not go himself, he sent his disciples. LigugÉ, his monastery, became a centre of evangelisation to the country round. It was the first monastery planted on Gaulish soil. It was ruined by the Saracens in 732, and again by the Normans in 848. It was rebuilt in 1040. But LigugÉ never had a worse enemy than one of its abbots, Arthur de CossÉ. He made public confession of Calvinism; gave up the abbey to be pillaged, sold its lands for his own advantage, and did everything in his power to utterly ruin it. It owed its restoration to the care of FranÇois de Servier, Bishop of Bayonne.
LigugÉ was, however, destroyed at the French Revolution. In 1864 it was acquired by the Benedictines, and rebuilt on a large scale. It was enriched with a valuable library, and became a nursery of Christian art and literature. But the law of 1901 banished the monks, and the vast building is now empty, as the State has not so far found any use for it.
In the year 971 the episcopal throne of Tours was vacant, and the citizens at once decided on securing Martin as their bishop. But when he arrived on foot, dust-covered, with shaggy hair, the bishops assembled to consecrate protested against the election. It was customary to choose a bishop from among the nobility and the wealthy. Defensor, the Bishop of Angers, signalised himself by his opposition. He absolutely refused to consecrate the poor dishevelled monk. But when the lector opening the psalter at hazard read out the words, "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength, because of thine enemies: that thou mightest still the enemy and the defender" (defensor), [Footnote: So in the old Gallican Version; in the Vulgate the word is Ultor.] the people raised a great shout, God himself had spoken, and the bishops had to yield to the popular will. Martin was then aged fifty-four.
No sooner was he installed than he cast about him to establish on the banks of the Loire a monastic colony such as he had founded at LigugÉ. He found a place where in later times rose the great abbey of Marmoutier, the wealthiest in France, and with a church that was called the Gem of Touraine. But then it was merely a chalk cliff rising above the Loire on its right bank, two miles above Tours, and on the summit had stood the old Gaulish city of Altionos. The Romans had transferred the capital of the Turones to its present site, and had given it the name of CÆsarodunum. But Althionos was probably not wholly abandoned, poor Gauls still dwelt there in their huts, and nothing had been done to bring them into the fold of Christ's Church.
The cliff with its caves had already been sanctified. It had been a refuge in time of persecution, and there S. Gatianus, the first Bishop of Tours, in the third century had sheltered. But now Martin and his disciples set to work to enlarge and remodel the subterranean habitations; they scooped out a chapel, and they formed a baptistry.
In 853 the Northmen came up the Loire and massacred a hundred and sixteen of the monks. Only twenty-four escaped. In 982 Marmoutier was refounded by Eudo, Count of Blois, and the noble basilica built below the rock was consecrated by Pope Urban II in 1095. The vast wealth of the abbey led to enlargements and splendour of architectural work; but in 1562 the Huguenots wrecked it, burned the precious library with all its MSS., broke down the altars, and shattered the windows. Its complete destruction, however, was due to the Revolution, when in 1791 it was completely pulled down, nothing left of the splendid church but the tower and a portion of the northern transept that was glued to the rock. The oratory of S. Martin was levelled to the rock on which it stood.
[ILLUSTRATION: LE TROU BOUROU. A cave fortress on the Beune. The hole through which the man is peering was used for defence of the steep ascent to the entrance. Note the arrangement for barring the door.]
[ILLUSTRATION: ROCK BAPTISTERY OF S. MARTIN, MARMOUTIER. Elevated and occupied by S. Martin, Bishop of Tours, A.D. 371-396. On the right- hand side is the well, on the left the font for immersion. The niches in the wall are for the holy oils. ]
But the fact of the transfer of the monastery to the flat land below the cliff had this effect, that the old caves, the original cradle of Marmoutier, were neglected and forgotten. They were overgrown by brambles, crumbled away, and none visited them.
In 1859 the oratory in which S. Martin had prayed was restored or rather rebuilt from its foundations.
One night when Martin was engaged therein in reading the Scriptures, the door was burst open and in broke a party of masqueraders. They had disguised themselves as Jupiter, Minerva, and Mercury, and some damsel devoid of modesty presented herself before the startled modesty of the bishop without disguise of any sort, as Venus rising from the foam of the sea. Some were dressed as Wood Druses very much like the devils of popular fancy. Mercury was a sharp, shrewd wag, and bothered the saint greatly, as he admitted to Sulpicius, his biographer, but Jupiter was a "stupid sot." At the rebuke of Martin the whole gang good-humouredly withdrew.
I was in this cell on Mid Lent Sunday, when hearing a noise outside, I looked forth and saw a party of masqueraders frolic and frisk past on their way to a tavern where was to be a costume ball. So goes the world. Some fifteen hundred and thirty years ago the Gospel was being preached in Tours, as it is now, men and women were striving to follow its precepts as now, and tomfoolery was rampant in Tours fifteen hundred and thirty years ago as it is now.
And now, as to the remains in the rock of the primitive Marmoutier. The grottoes of S. Gatianus and of the disciples of S. Martin have been cleared out. There is a little arcade of three round-headed unadorned arches cut in the cliff that served as a cloister, and there is the old baptistry where Martin admitted his converts into the Christian Church, sunk in the rock for adult and complete submersion, and the niches in the wall for the sacred oils. Adjoining is the cave in which the neophyte unclothed and afterwards reclothed himself. There are graves sunk in the rock, where some of his disciples were laid, and there is the chapel partly in the rock and partly rebuilt, dedicated later by Gregory of Tours to the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, but of which in after times a different story was told—namely that seven brothers who had been devoted disciples of Martin prayed him when he was dying that they might speedily follow, and on the anniversary of his death they all seven fell asleep.
There is another cave that escaped destruction at the Revolution, though opening out of the transept of the church. It is that of the Penitence of Brice.
Brice had been adopted as a child by Martin, and brought up by him to be a monk. But Brice had no liking for the religious life, and was very disrespectful to his master. One day a sick man came to see Martin and asked of Brice where the saint was. "The fool is yonder," answered he, "staring at the sky like an idiot."
One day Martin rebuked Brice for buying horses and slaves at a high price, and even providing himself with beautiful young girls. Brice was furious, and said. "I am a better Christian than you. I have had an ecclesiastical education from my youth, and you were bred up amidst the license of a camp."
On the death of S. Martin, the people of Tours, tired of having a saint at their head, with proverbial fickleness chose Brice as his successor because rich—he was said to have been the son of the Count of Nevers— and because he was anything but a saint. As bishop he showed little improvement, and gave great scandal. Lazarus, Bishop of Aix, accused him before several councils. At last a gross outrage on morals was attributed to him, and caused his flight. A nun gave birth to a child, and confessed that she had been seduced by the bishop. Brice either ran away from Tours or was deposed. A priest named Justinian was elected in his room. On the death of Justinian, Armentius succeeded him. Brice remained in exile till the death of Armentius, and then ventured back to Tours to reclaim his episcopal throne. He was allowed to reascend it, and he occupied it for seven years; and the cave in which he did penance for his frailties and the scandal he had caused is intact to this day. He died, after having been nominally bishop for forty-seven years, the greater portion of which time he had spent in exile. The Church of Rome is certainly very charitably disposed in numbering him among the saints. Why he should be regarded as the patron of wool- combers one cannot see, [Footnote: The following prayer is recommended by the Archbishop of Tours to the faithful for use. "Nous vous supplions, Seigneur, par l'intercession de S. Brice, EvÊque et Confesseur, de conserver votre peuple qui se confie en votre amour; afin que, par les vertues de notre Saint Pontife, nous mÉritions de partager avec lui les joies celestes." The virtues of Brice!] but as such he enjoyed some popularity.
There is yet another cave in the Marmoutier rocks that may be mentioned; it is that of S. Leobard. Leobard was a saint of the sixth century, a native of Auvergne, who, coming to pray at the tomb of S. Martin, resolved on spending the rest of his days in one of the cells of Martin's monastery in the rocks. He settled into an untenanted cave, which he enlarged, and lived in it for twenty-two years. At the extremity he dug a deep pit in which he desired to be buried standing with his face to the East, thus to await the coming of the Lord. But although his desire was fulfilled, the monks of Marmoutier would not let his body rest there, but hauled it up, that it might become an object of devotion to the faithful.
The Abbey of BrantÔme on the Dronne (Dep. Dordogne) was originally, like Marmoutier, a cavern monastery, and like those of Marmoutier, the monks waxing fat, they kicked and abandoned the grottoes for a stately structural monastery. The beautiful Romanesque tower of the church stands on top of a rock that is honeycombed with their cells. The church, consisting of nave only, is of marvellous beauty, early pointed, and built on a curve, as there was but little space to spare between the river and the cliffs. Unhappily church and cloister were delivered over to be "restored" by that arch-wrecker, Abbadie, who has done such incalculable mischief in Perigord and the Angoumois, and his hoof-mark is visible here. The monks, not content with a sumptuous Gothic abbey, pulled it down and built one in the baroque style, and had but just completed it when the Revolution broke out "and the flood came and swept them all away." In the court behind this modern structure is to be seen the cliff perforated with caves; it has, however, been cut back to the detriment of these, so that we have them shorn of their faces. Nevertheless they are interesting. The old monolithic chapel of the monastery remains, turned into a pigeonry, and with the steps left that gave access to the pulpit, and two pieces of sculpture on a very large scale, cut out of the living rock. One represents the Crucifixion with SS. Mary and John; the other has been variously explained as the Last Judgment or the Triumph of Death. It perhaps represents the Triumph of Christ over Death. His figure and the kneeling figures of His Mother and the Beloved Disciple were, however, never completed, and remain in the rough.
Beneath the figure of Christ is Death, figured by a head surmounted by a crown of bones, and a crest representing a spectre armed with a club. On each side is an angel blowing a trumpet. Below are ranged a dozen heads of popes, bishops, princes, knights, and ladies, in boxes to represent graves.
[Illustration: THE TRIUMPH OF CHRIST OVER DEATH
Sculpture in the cave monastery of BrantÔme. The figure of Christ was never completed. Below is a head crowned with bones, for Death, with Time as crest. Below, in boxes, are the dead, of various degrees.]
In the front of this huge piece of sculpture are trestles planted in the ground to support planks to serve as tables when the BrantÔmois desire to have a banquet and a dance.
The sculpture above described is not earlier than the sixteenth century. A few paces from it, in the same line and almost under the tower, is another grotto called La Babayou—that is to say "of the statue," and it probably at one time enshrined an image of a saint. On the left of the subterranean church is the fountain of the little Cut-throat already mentioned. S. Sicarius, whose relics were the great "draw" to BrantÔme in the Middle Ages, was supposed to have been one of the Innocents slain by Herod; and the relics were also supposed to have been given to the abbey by Charlemagne. As there was no historic evidence that Charles the Great ever had a set of little bones passed off on him as those of the Innocent, or that he ever made a present to the abbey of a relic, it will be seen that a good deal of supposition goes to the story. As I have said before, how it was that the child of a Hebrew mother acquired a Latin name, and that one so peculiar, we are not informed.
Outside the town gate are other large excavations that are supposed to have formed a temple of Mithras, but this is mere conjecture. The largest is now employed as a Tir—a shooting gallery. That there were buildings connected with it is seen by the holes in the rock to receive rafters.
S. Maximus, Bishop of Riez, who died in 460, was born at ChÂteau Redon, near Digne, and he entered the monastic life on the isle of Lerins, under S. Honoratus, and when that saint was raised in 426 to the episcopal throne of Arles, Maximus succeeded him as Abbot of Lerins. But this monastery was becoming crowded, and Maximus pined for the solitary life, so one day he took a boat, crossed to the mainland, and plunged into the wild country about the river Verdon, that has sawn for itself a chasm through the limestone; where it debouches, he planted himself at a place since called Moustier-Ste-Marie. The lips of the crevasse are linked by a chain, with a gilt star hanging in the midst, little under 690 feet above the bed of the torrent. No one knows when this star was hung there, but it is supposed to have been an ex voto of a chevalier, de Blac. Within the ravine, reached by a narrow goat-path, were caves in the cliffs, and into one of these Maximus retired in 434 and was speedily followed by other solitaries. The caves are still there, the faces walled up, but as at LigugÉ, and as at Marmoutier, and as at BrantÔme, so was it here. As the monastery grew rich, the solitaries crawled out of their holes into which the sun never shone, and erected their residence at the opening of the ravine. A chapel remains, founded by Charlemagne, but rebuilt in the fourteenth or fifteenth century, reached by a stair protected by a parapet.
Moustier was famous at the close of the seventeenth and beginning of the eighteenth century for its faience, with elegant designs and good colouring. Specimens are now extremely scarce. Two vases of this ware may be seen on the altar of the chapel. The principal potters there were Pierre Fournier, Joseph Olery, Paul Rouse, and FÉraud. They usually signed their work with their initials. Maximus was just a century later than Martin; the fever for imitating the lives of the Fathers of the Deserts of Egypt was then in full heat. His master, Honoratus, had been wont to escape from his island monastery and hide in a cave in the glowing red porphyry rocks of the Esterelle. I can understand his retiring thither, above a sea blue as the neck of a peacock, among glowing red rocks, and masses of pines, and heather, and arbutus, and every kind of fragrant herb, and where, when only snowdrops are appearing in England, the spires of white asphodel are basking in the sun.
[Illustration: CAVES OF LIGUGÉ
The primitive rock monastery of S. Martin. It was abandoned later when the monks moved to the further side of the river; but Felix, a disciple of S. Martin, remained and died in the cave, now inaccessible, below the cross.]
Near Nottingham are the "Popish Holes," close to the river Lene. They are thus described by Stukeley. "One may easily guess Nottingham to have been an ancient town of the Britons; as soon as they had proper tools they fell to work upon the rocks, which everywhere offer themselves so commodiously to make houses in, and I doubt not first was a considerable collection of this sort. What is visible at present is not so old a date as their time, yet I see no reason to doubt but it is formed upon theirs. There is a ledge of perpendicular rock hewn out into a church, houses, chambers, dove-houses, &c. The church is like those in the rocks of Bethlehem and other places in the Holy Land; the altar is natural rock, and there has been painting upon the wall, a steeple, I suppose, where a bell hung, and regular pillars. The river winding about makes a fortification to it, for it comes at both ends of the cliff, leaving a plain in the middle. The way into it was by a gate cut out of the rock, and with an oblique entrance for more safety. Without is a plain with three niches, which I fancy their place of judicature, or the like. Between this and the castle is a hermitage of like workmanship."
These remains pertain to a cell called S. Mary le Rock, a quarter of a mile west of the Castle, and belonged to Lenton priory. It was abandoned after the time of Edward IV., and is supposed to have come down in a perfect form to the time of the Civil War, when it was much injured by the Puritans as Papists' holes. A good many illustrations exist of it after the Civil Wars, as a large folding plate in Throsby's and Thoroton's "History of Nottinghamshire," 1797, but there is none to show what it was before.
It possesses a pigeonry much like that at BrantÔme, but on a smaller scale, that wiseacres have pronounced to be a Columbarium, not for doves, but for the reception of jars containing the ashes of the dead, and have attributed this dovecote to Roman times. Mr. William Stetton, a local antiquary, writing in 1806, stated that the excavation "appeared to have been made in the earliest ages of Christianity, when the converts resorted for secrecy and security to grottoes or caves, and similar places of retirement and seclusion. The style is evidently Roman. The whole interior appears to have been invested with a thin plastering, or perhaps, only a wash, which has been painted in various colours in mosaic devices. The altar still remains pretty perfect notwithstanding the ravages of time and wanton depredation. A Roman column still adorns the north side of it, but its corresponding one on the south side has long been destroyed."
An architect, John Carter, in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1860, stated that the "arrangements of the excavations are monastical; and we, with much satisfaction, trace out the infirmary, refectory, dormitory, chapter-house, and the chapel. The latter place gives two aisles, divided by perforated arches, with headways in the manner of groins, and at the east end an altar."
There can be no question now that although the original excavations were possibly enough Roman-British, the Papists' holes, as we have them now, are truly, as Mr. Carter says, monastical.
How absurd old fashioned antiquaries were may be proved by the fact that the chimney that warmed the monks, and up which went the smoke from their kitchen, was pronounced to be a bustum, a flue employed for the cremation of the dead. As to the "Roman" column, that also is mediaeval.
Curzon, in his "Monasteries of the Levant," 1849, says "the scenery of Meteora (Mt. Pindus in Albania) is of a very singular kind. The end of a range of rocky hills seems to have been broken off by some earthquake, or washed away by the Deluge, leaving only a series of twenty or thirty tall, thin, smooth, needle-like rocks, many hundred feet in height; some like gigantic tusks, some shaped like sugar- loaves, and some like vast stalagmites. These rocks are surrounded by a beautiful grassy plain, on three sides of which grow groups of detached trees, like those of an English park. Some of these rocks shoot up quite clean and perpendicularly from the smooth green grass, some are in clusters, some stand alone like obelisks. Nothing can be more strange and wonderful than this romantic region, which is unlike anything I have ever seen before or since. In Switzerland, Savoy, the Tyrol, is nothing at all to be compared to these extraordinary peaks. At the foot of many of these rocks there are numerous caves and holes, some of which appear to be natural, but most of them are artificial; for in the dark and wild ages of monastic fanaticism, whole flocks of hermits roosted in these pigeonholes. Some of these caves are so high up in the rocks that one wonders how the poor old gentlemen could ever get up to them, whilst others are below the surface, and the anchorites who burrowed in them, like rabbits, frequently afforded rare sport to parties of roving Saracens; indeed, hermit-hunting scenes seem to have been a fashionable amusement previous to the twelfth century. In early Greek frescoes and in small stiff pictures with gold backgrounds, we see many frightful representations of men on horseback in Roman armour, with long spears, who are torturing and slaying Christian devotees. In these pictures the monks and hermits are represented in gowns made of a kind of coarse matting, and they have long beards, and some of them are covered with hair; these, I take it, were the ones most to be admired, as in the Greek Church sanctity is always in the inverse ratio to beauty. All Greek saints are painfully ugly, but the hermits are much uglier, dirtier, and older than the rest. They must have been very fusty people beside, eating roots and living in holes like rats and mice."
On the summit of these needles of rock are monasteries. Of these there were twenty-four, but now seven alone remain tenanted by monks. The sole access to them is by nets let down by ropes and hauled up by a windlass, or as an alternative in the case of that of S. Barlaam, by a succession of ladders.
As an example of a rock monastery and church in Egypt, I may quote the same author's description of that of Der el Adra, or of the Pully, situated on the top of Gebel el Ferr, where a precipice about 200 feet in height rises out of the waters of the Nile.
The access to it is by a cave or fissure in the rock, the opening being about the size of the inside of a capacious chimney. "The abbot crept in at a hole at the bottom, and telling me to observe where he placed his feet, he began to climb up the cleft with considerable agility. A few preliminary lessons from a chimney-sweep would have been of the greatest service to me, but in this branch of art my education had been neglected, and it was with no small difficulty that I climbed up after the abbot, whom I saw striding and sprawling in the attitude of a spread eagle above my head. My slippers soon fell off upon the head of a man under me. At least twenty men were scrambling and puffing underneath him. Arms and legs were stretched out in all manner of attitudes, the forms of the more distant climbers being lost in the gloom of the narrow cavern up which we were advancing. Thence the climb proceeded up a path. At the summit beside the monastic habitations was the church cut out of the rock, to which descent is made by a narrow flight of steps."
Mr. Curzon gives a plan of this church as half catacomb or cave, and one of the earliest Christian buildings which has preserved its originality.
The caves of Inkermann in the Crimea have been already alluded to. Here is a description of a subterranean abandoned monastery and church.
"Having traversed a passage about fifty feet long, we reached a church, or rather the remains of one; for a portion of the living rock in which these works were cut had fallen and carried with it half of this curious crypt. Its semicircular vaulted roof, and the pillars in its corners, indicated it to be of Byzantine origin; while a Greek sculptured cross, in the centre of the roof, told that it was a temple dedicated to that religion. The altar, and any sculpture which might have existed near it, are gone, and have long since been burnt into lime, or built into some work at Sevastopol. Beyond the church we found a large square apartment, entered by another passage, and looking over the valley of Inkermann. A few more cells, resembling those on the stairs, composed the whole of this series of excavated chambers, the arrangements of which at once proclaimed them to have been a monastery. These were the cells, the refectory, and the church. There is nothing in their construction as a work of art; yet there is an absence of that roughness and simplicity which exist in many caverns of the opposite mountain, and which indicate their being of a much earlier date than these." [Footnote: Scott (C. H.), "The Baltic, the Black Sea, and the Crimea," Lond. 1854, p. 280.]
CHAPTER X
CAVE ORACLES
Standing upon the pinnacle upon which is planted the marvellous Romanesque cathedral of Le Puy, and looking north, is seen in the distance the basaltic mass of Polignac crowned by a lofty donjon.
That mass of columnar basalt was occupied and held sacred in Roman times, and was dedicated to Apollo. In the courtyard of the castle is a well, l'Albime it is called, that descends to the depth of 260 feet, and there still exists an enormous stone mask of the solar god that closed it, and from the mouth of which oracles were given. How these were produced is now made clear. In the side of the well is a chamber cut out of the rock that concealed a confederate who uttered the response to the questioner, and the voice came up hollow and with reverberation betwixt the gaping lips of stone, to overawe and satisfy the inquirer.
"Before the old tribes of Hellas created temples to the divinities," says Porphyry in his treatise 'On the Cave of the Nymphs,' "they consecrated caverns and grottoes to their service in the island of Crete to Zeus, in Arcadia to Artemis and Pan, in the isle of Naxos to Dionysos."
And from caves issued the most famous Grecian oracles, and the mysteries were often celebrated in them. The cave in which Zeus as an infant was concealed on Mount Ida naturally became sacred. Kronos had received the Kingdom of the World on condition that he should rear no male children. Accordingly when one was born he ate it. But when Zeus arrived, his mother gave Kronos a stone to eat in place of the child, and hurried off the babe to Crete, where it was nourished in a cave by the Corybantes, who sounded cymbals and drums to drown his cries.
There was a Charonion at Hierapolis, an account of which we get from ApulÆus and Dio Cassius. It was deep. From the orifice, which was surrounded by a balustrade, escaped so dense a vapour that animals held in it died, and men who inhaled it were stupefied. The priests who ministered to the oracle professed to be immune, but Strabo tells us that they simply held their breath when they stooped over the fumes. He who desired to consult the oracle was for a while placed on a platform above the opening.
On the flank of Mount Citheron was a cave dedicated to the Nymphs. Those who desired to inquire of them entered the grotto, when it was supposed that the Nymphs inspired them with a knowledge of the future; and such persons were entitled Nympholeptes. The corresponding expression among the Latins was lymphatici, expressive of the pale and exhausted condition in which they were when they issued from the cave. Eusebius, Bishop of CÆsarea says: "There are exhalations that produce drowsiness and procure visions;" and ApulÆus says: "Due to the religious fury they inspire, men remain without eating or drinking, and some become prophets and reveal future things."
Apollo was the god of prophecy above all others. He was born at Delos, according to the poets; and it is there that the Homeric poems say was one of his most ancient sanctuaries. Thence, doubtless, issued the twenty famous oracles at the epoch of the colonisation. At Delphi the priestess was seated on a tripod over a crack in the rock, from which exhaled mephitic vapours that rendered her delirious, and her incoherent exclamations were reduced into hexameters by the attendant priests. But there was also at Delos the Manteion, the prophetic grotto. This has of late years been discovered along with the foundations of the temple. The Manteion is a gallery, naturally bored in the rock. The winds that penetrate it cause strange pipings and hollow moans, that served as an accompaniment to the oracles. But the most remarkable of these caverns was that of Trophonios in Beotia. Pausanius tells us the legend of its origin. The Beotians had suffered from drought for two years and sent to consult the oracle of Delphi. The reply received was that they must refer themselves to Trophonios at home. But who was the party? The Beotians had never heard of him. Then the oldest of their deputies recalled having once pursued a swarm of bees and followed it till it disappeared in a cave. That doubtless was the spot, and there, after the offering of sacrifices, Trophonios obligingly showed himself, and explained who he was and what were his powers. Since that time his oracle was much consulted, and happily an account of how he, or his priests, befooled visitors to the cave has been given us by Pausanius from his personal experience.
Those who wished to consult the oracle had first to purify themselves by spending some days in the sanctuary of the Guardian Spirit and of Fortune, to abstain from warm baths, but to bathe in the river Hercynia; they might eat as much as they liked of the meat offered in sacrifice. "You are conducted during the night to the river, where you are bathed and rubbed with oil by two boys of the age of thirteen. Then the priests take possession of you, and you are conducted to two fountains side by side. You drink of one, that of Oblivion, so as to disengage your thoughts from what is past, then that of Remembrance, to assure your recollecting what is about to take place. After having addressed your prayers to a statue, you go to the oracle, dressed in a linen tunic girded below the breast, and booted in the fashion of the country. The oracle is on the mountain above the sacred grove. It is surrounded by a marble wall, about the height of your waist. On this wall are planted twigs of copper linked together by copper filaments, and the gates are in this grating. Within this enclosure is a chasm, not natural, but excavated with a good deal of art and regularity, in form like a baker's oven. There is no ladder there for descent into the cave, and one is brought, that is light and narrow. Once at the bottom you see on one side, between the ground and the masonry, a hole about large enough for a man to squeeze through. One lies on the back, and holding in one hand a honey-cake, thrust the feet in at the opening, and then work oneself till the legs are in up to the knees. Then, all at once, the rest of the body is dragged down with force and rapidity, just as if you were swept forward by an eddy in a river.
"Once arrived in the secret place, all do not learn the future in the same manner. Some see what is to befall them unrolled in vision, others hear it by the ear. Then you ascend by the same opening whereby you descended, going feet foremost. No one, it is said, has died in the cave, with the exception of one of the guardsmen of Demetrius, and he went down, not to consult the god, but in hopes of plundering the sanctuary of its gold and silver; his carcase, they say, was not ejected by the orifice that is sacred, but was found in another spot. On issuing from the cave of Trophonios the priests lay hold of you, and after having planted you on the seat of Remembrance, question you as to what you have seen and heard. When you have told them, they hand you over, overwhelmed with fear, and unrecognisable by yourself and others, to other ministers who convey you to the edifice dedicated to the Good Genius and to Fortune."
Those issuing from the cave for long after remained dejected, pale, and melancholy. Pausanius says that after a while one who had gone through the ordeal could laugh; but Suidas tells us that those who returned from having made the descent never smiled again, and this gave occasion to a saying relative to a preternaturally grave personage, "He has consulted the oracle of Trophonios."
Plutarch gives us some further particulars. The description made by one of the characters he introduces speaks of visions caught by inhaling a stupefying gas. Under its influence hallucinations were produced in which Trophonios himself was thought to appear, and the tortures of Tartarus were revealed. On emerging from the cave into fresh air, the questioner fell into fits of delirium, and thought he still saw strange visions. In the biography of Apollonios of Tyana, Philostratus tells us that the sage and wonder-worker was very desirous to penetrate into the cave, but that the priest raised objections and made difficulties, till at last his patience failed and he entered by main force and remained within seven days. So much in this semi-fictitious biography is true perhaps—that this hero did force his way in. It is also true that he had sufficient discretion not to tell what he had discovered of the tricks there perpetrated.
There was another of these caves at Acharaca, near Nysa, on the road to Tralles. The gas there exhaled had a medical healing virtue, and also gave occasion to the delivery of oracles. Persons suffering from an illness and placing confidence in the power of the gods, travelled thither and stayed some time with the priests, who lived near the cave. Those ministers of the gods then entered the cavern and spent a night in it. After that they prescribed to their patients the remedies revealed to them in their dreams. Often, however, they took their patients along with them into the cave, where they were expected to remain for several days fasting and falling into prophetic sleep.
About four centuries before the Christian era, there existed at Rome a temple dedicated to Jupiter Capitolinus, by the Tarquins, and beneath it was a subterranean chamber in which were preserved a collection of ancient oracles, the keeping of which was confided to his officers, the duumviri, and the penalty of death attached to the divulgation unlicensed, of their contents.
According to the legend, a strange woman, the sibyl of CumÆ, brought to Tarquin the old nine books of oracles, and demanded for them three hundred pieces of gold. The king considered the price exorbitant, scoffed at the woman, and refused to buy. Thereupon the sibyl cast three of the volumes into the fire, and demanded the same sum precisely for the remaining six. Tarquin again declined to purchase. She then burnt three more, but still required for the remainder the original price. The king now thought that he had acted unwisely, and hastened to conclude the bargain and secure the oracles that contained prophecies relative to the destiny of the Roman people.
The oracles were written on palm-leaves in Greek, and with various signs and hieroglyphs, and the volumes were bundles of these leaves tied together.
In the year 671 of Rome, eighteen years before the Christian era, the old Temple of Jupiter, built by the Tarquins, was destroyed by fire, and with it perished the Books of Destiny. Six years after the temple was rebuilt, and an attempt was made to recover the Sibylline oracles, by sending throughout Italy for oracles reported to be Sibylline. The deputies sent brought back from ErythÆa a thousand verses, but the collection rapidly increased in such quantities that Augustus ordered them to be examined, and such as proved to be worthless he burnt. After a second sifting, those that remained were put into two golden coffers and placed under the pedestal of the statue of the Palatine Apollo.
As is well known, there were in circulation a number of forged Sibylline oracles; some of these were the product of the Jewish TherapeutÆ, others of Christians. In his hatred of Christianity, the Emperor Julian ordered search to be made for these fictitious oracular books, that they might be destroyed. In 363 the Temple of the Palatine Apollo caught fire and was destroyed. The Christians charged Julian with having caused the fire so as to get rid of the Sibylline oracles hid under the statue of Apollo. But these had not been injured; the gold boxes in which they were, were opened, and to their confusion the Christians found that the oracles contained no prophecies concerning Christ, only sortes celebrating the gods Zeus, Aphrodite, Hera, &c.
The accusation brought by the Christians against Julian recoiled upon them, for it was they who, later, by the hands of Stilicho, destroyed the collection. The order for the destruction was given by two Christian emperors, Honorius and Arcadius, on the plea that these oracles favoured and encouraged paganism.
Saul, it will be remembered went to consult a witch in the cave of Endor, where she conjured up before him the spirit of Samuel.
Isaiah rebukes the Jews for "lodging in the monuments," doubtless to obtain oracles from the dead, to raise up the ghosts of the deceased, and exhort from them prophecies as to the future. As already pointed out, the dead and the pagan gods were one and the same. To consult a deity was to consult a hero or an ancestor of a former age.
There is a curious story in an Icelandic Saga of a shepherd, named HallbjÖrn, on a farm where was a huge cairn over the dead scald or poet Thorleif. The shepherd, whilst engaged on his guard over his master's flock, was wont to lie on the ground and sleep there. On one occasion he saw the cairn open and the dead man come forth, and Thorleif promised to endow him with the gift of poetry if he would compose his first lay in his, the dead man's praise. And he further promised that HallbjÖrn should become a famous scald and sing the praises of great chieftains. Thereupon the tenant of the tomb retired within again, and the shepherd on waking found himself endowed with poetic gift, and he sang a lay in honour of Thorleif. "And he became a famous scald, and went abroad, and sang songs in honour of many great men, and obtained high honour, and good gifts, and became very wealthy." [Footnote: Fornmavma SÖgur, Copenh. 1827, iii. pp. 102-3.]
It will be remembered that Saul's interview was with the ghostly Samuel through the intervention of the witch. And there are many stories of living men endeavouring to obtain knowledge of the future through invocation of the spirits of the dead. Indeed spiritualists at the present day carry on the same business.
One thing that conduced to the belief that certain caves were inhabited by gods and spirits, was that strange sounds at times issued from them. These were caused by currents of air entering some of the apertures and vibrating through the passages, provoking notes as if these galleries were organ pipes. This is the explanation of the Æolian cavern of Terni, supposed to be the abode of spirits; and a cave near Eisenach was long reported to be an entrance to hell, because of the moans and sighs that were heard issuing from it.
The echo also was quite inexplicable to the ignorant, and was assumed to be the voice of some spirit or mountain gnome living in the heart of the rock, to whose habitation a cave gave access.
An abandoned mine with a pool at the bottom, on Dartmoor, is thought to be the abode of a spirit whose wails may be heard when the wind blows, and whence a voice issues calling out the name of that person who is next doomed to die in the parish of Walkhampton.
The most remarkable representative in the Middle Ages of the cave of Trophonios was that in Lough Derg in Ireland, the purgatory of S. Patrick as it was called. The origin is obscure, but it sprang into notoriety through the publication by a monk, Henry of Saltrey, of the descent of a knight Owain into it. Owain had been in the service of King Stephen, and he made his descent in the year 1153. Whether there ever were such a person as the knight Owain, or whether he was a mere invention of Henry of Saltrey is uncertain. Saltrey's account is precise as to the various stages through which Owain passed, and it is a vulgar rendering of the common stories of visits to purgatory, of which Dante's is the highest and most poetical version.
Lough Derg is among the dreary and barren mountains and moorlands in the south of the County of Donegal; in it is an island, with ribbed and curiously shaped rocks, and among these was supposed to be the entrance to purgatory.
Giraldus Cambrensis, who wrote his "Topography of Ireland" in 1187, mentions the island in Lough Derg as among the wonders of Ireland. [Footnote: But there is no mention of it among the wonders of Ireland in the Irish Nennius.] It was, he says, divided into two parts, of which one was fair and pleasant, while the other part was wild and rough, and believed to be inhabited only by demons. In this part of the island, he adds, there were nine pits, in any one of which, if a person was bold enough to pass the night, he would be so much tormented by the demons that it was a chance if he were found alive in the morning; and it was reported that he who escaped alive would, from the anguish he suffered there, be relieved from the torments of the other world. Giraldus continues by telling us that the natives called the place Patrick's purgatory, and that it was said that the saint had obtained from God this public manifestation of the punishments and rewards of the other world, in order to convince his incredulous hearers.
Numerous visitors to Lough Derg in the Middle Ages published the narrative of what they had there seen and undergone, and rivalled each other in the extravagance of their accounts. There was a monastery on Lough Derg, and the monks had the key to the entrance to the cavern, but no visitor was suffered to pass within without the consent of the bishop of the diocese, and the payment of a heavy fee. Among all the extravagance that was written by visitors about the purgatory, some retained their common sense, and perceived that there was either fraud or hallucination in the visions there supposed to be seen.
Froissart gives an account of a conversation he had with Sir William Lisle on this subject: "On the Friday in the morning we rode out together, and on the road I asked him if he had accompanied the King in his expedition to Ireland. He said he had. I then asked him if there was any foundation of truth in what was said of S. Patrick's Hole. He replied that there was, and that he and another knight had been there. They entered it at sunset, remained there the whole night, and came out at sunrise the next morning. I requested him to tell me whether he saw all the marvellous things that are said to be seen there. He made me the following answer: 'When I and my companion had passed the entrance of the cave, called the purgatory of S. Patrick, we descended three or four steps (for you go down into it as into a cellar), but found our heads so much affected by the heat that we seated ourselves on the steps, which are of stone, and such a drowsiness came on that we slept there the whole night.' I asked if, when asleep, they knew where they were, and what visions they had. He replied that they had many and strange dreams, and they seemed, as they imagined, to see more than they would have done had they been in their beds. This they were both assured of. 'When morning came and we were awake, the door of the cave was opened, and we came out, but instantly lost all recollection of everything we had seen, and looked on the whole as a phantasm.'"
It is apparent from this that the wild descriptions given by others were merely an account of their dreams or hallucinations; in many cases purely imaginary accounts, given for the sake of creating a sensation. I do not suppose that the monks of Lough Derg devised any scenic effects, but left the imagination of the dupes to riot of its own accord unassisted. In the fifteenth century a monk of Eymstadt, in Holland, undertook the pilgrimage to Lough Derg. He arrived at the lake, and applied to the prior for admission, who referred him to the bishop of the diocese. The monk then repaired to him, but as he was "poor and moneyless," the servants refused to admit him into their master's presence. Having, however, with difficulty obtained an audience, he begged humbly to be suffered to visit S. Patrick's purgatory. The Bishop of Clogher demanded a certain sum of money, which, he said, was due to him from every pilgrim who came on this errand. The monk represented his poverty, and after much urgent solicitation, the bishop grudgingly gave him the necessary licence. He then went to the prior, performed the usual ceremonies, and was shut up in the cavern. There he remained all night, in constant expectation of seeing something dreadful; but when the prior let him out next morning he had to admit that he had seen no vision of any sort. Thoroughly dissatisfied with his experiences, he went direct to Rome, and reported what he thought of S. Patrick's purgatory to Pope Alexander VI. The Pope was convinced that the whole thing was a fraud, and ordered the destruction of the purgatory. It was the eve of the Reformation; mistrust of miracles was rife, and the Pope was anxious to suppress one that when investigated might prove a scandal.
The purgatory was accordingly suppressed, the cave closed, but not destroyed, and no pilgrims admitted to it; this was in 1497. The closing of the cave did not, however, interfere with the pilgrimage, and the Archbishop of Armagh in 1503 urged on Pope Pius III. to withdraw the prohibition. This was done, and profuse indulgences were offered to such as revisited the cave or at all events took part in the Lough Derg pilgrimage. On 12th September 1632, Sir James Balfour and Sir William Stewart, carrying out the orders of the Government, seized "for her Majesty's use and benefit the Island of the Purgatory," and unroofed and otherwise destroyed the monastic buildings there. But superstition is not to be killed by Acts of Parliament. By a statute of the second year of Queen Anne all pilgrimages to S. Patrick's purgatory were decreed to be "riotous and unlawful assemblies," and were made punishable as such; and resort to the purgatory had become more frequent owing to Clement X. having granted a Plenary Indulgence to such as visited it. Since then these Indulgences have been repeatedly renewed. At present the pilgrimages are again in full swing, and there is a prior on the island, a hospice for the reception of the visitors, and a chapel of S. Patrick and another of S. Mary. "Between the two churches the space is taken up with the Campanile and Penitential beds. There are five of these beds, and they are dedicated to SS. Dabeoc, Columba, Catherine, Brendan, and Bridget. They are circular in form, measuring, with the exception of S. Columba's, about ten feet in diameter. S. Columba's is about twice the size of the others. They are surrounded with walls, varying in height from one to two feet and each of them is entered by a narrow gap or doorway." [Footnote: "Lough Derg," by Rev. J. E. McKenna, Dublin, n.d.]
It would seem then that the old superstitious practices are being reverted to as nearly as the spirit of the times will allow, and the destruction of the cave itself will admit.
It is perhaps needless to add that there is no historical evidence for the apostle of Ireland having ever been at Lough Derg. Derg is probably a mistake for Deirg, and Lough Deirg would mean the Lake of the Cave. Gough, in his additions to Camden, thus described the purgatory: "It was about sixteen feet and a half long, by two feet one inch wide, built of freestone, covered with broad flags and green turf laid over them, and was so low and narrow that a tall man could hardly sit, much less stand in it. In the side was a window just wide enough to admit a faint ray of light; in the floor a cavity capable of containing a man at his length, and under a large stone at the end of the pavement a deep pit; the bottom of the cave was originally much below the surface of the ground. It stood on the east side of the church, in the churchyard, encompassed with a wall, and surrounded by circles or cells, called the beds, scarcely three feet high, denominated from several saints. The penitents who visited the island, after fasting on bread and water for nine days and making processions round these holy stations thrice a day barefoot, for the first seven days, and six times on the eighth, washing their weary limbs each night in the lake, on the ninth enter the cave. Here they observe a twenty-four hours fast, tasting only a little water, and upon quitting it bathe in the lake, and so conclude the ceremony.
"Leave being first obtained of the bishop, the prior represented to the penitents all the horror and difficulty of the undertaking, suggesting to them at the same time an easier penance. If they persevered in their resolution, they were conducted to the door with a procession from the convent, and after twenty-four hours confinement let out next morning with the like ceremony." [Footnote: "St. Patrick's Purgatory," by Thomas Wright, London, 1844. Analecta Bollandiana, t. xxvii. (1908). O'Connor, "St. Patrick's Purgatory," Dublin, 1895. MacRitchie, "A Note on St. Patrick's Purgatory," in the Journal of the Roy. Soc. of Ant. of Ireland, 1901.]
As may well be supposed, after the long preliminaries and the heavy fees paid, the penitents could hardly, unless unusually strong-minded like the Dutch monk, declare roundly that they had seen nothing. I do not suppose, as already said, that there was any fraud deliberately enacted, personages dressing up as devils and angels, but that the visitor's own dreams, and his vanity or lively imagination were left to propagate the story of the marvels to be seen and heard in Lough Derg.
But wonderful caves, entrances to a mysterious underworld, are common in all countries. A story is told of Friar Conrad, the Confessor of S. Elizabeth of Thuringia, a barbarous, brutal man, who was sent into Germany by Gregory IX. to burn and butcher heretics. The Pope called him his "dilectus filius." In 1231 he was engaged in controversy with a heretical teacher, who, beaten in argument, according to Conrad's account, offered to show him Christ and the Blessed Virgin, who with their own mouths would ratify the doctrine taught by the heretic. To this Conrad submitted, and was led into a cave in the mountains. After a long descent they entered a hall brilliantly illumined, in which sat a King on a golden throne and by him the Queen Mother. The heretic prostrated himself in adoration, and bade Conrad do the same. But the latter drew forth a consecrated host and adjured the vision, whereupon all vanished.
The German stories of the mountain of Venus, in which the TannhÄuser remains, or of Frederick Barbarossa, in the Unterberg, or the Welsh stories of King Arthur in the heart of the mountain, seen occasionally, or the Danish fables of Holger Dansk in the vaults under the Kronnenburg, all refer to the generally spread belief in an underworld inhabited by spirits.
In the year 1529 died Lazarus Aigner of Bergheim, near Salzburg, a poor man. At his death he handed over to his son a MS. account of a descent he had made into the underworld in 1484, and this was at once published and created a considerable sensation.
According to his account, in the year just mentioned, he was on the Unterberg with his master, the parish priest, Elbenberger, and another, when they visited a chapel on the rock, above the entrance to which were cut the letters S.O.R.G.E.I.S.A.T.O.M., out of which they could make nothing.
On returning home the priest observed that he wished that Lazarus would revisit the place, and make sure that the inscription had been accurately copied. Accordingly, next day, Aigner reascended the mountain and found the chapel again. But he had started late, having his ordinary work to do before he had leisure to go, and the evening was darkening in. As the way led by precipices, he deemed it inadvisable to retrace his steps that night, and so laid himself down to sleep. Next morning, Thursday, he woke refreshed, but to his amazement saw standing before him an aged barefooted friar, who asked him whence he came and what had brought him there. To this Lazarus Aigner answered truthfully. Then the hermit said to him, "I will explain to you what is the signification of these letters, and will show you something in vision."
Then the barefooted friar led him into a chasm, and unlocked an iron door in the rock, by means of which Lazarus was admitted into the heart of the mountain. There he saw a huge hall out of which went seven passages that led to the cathedral of Salzburg, the church of Reichenhall, Feldkirch in Tirol, Gemund, Seekirchen, S. Maximilien, S. Michael, Hall, St. Zeno, Traunstein, S. Dionysius and S. BartholmÆ on the Konigsee. Here also Aigner saw divine worship conducted by dead monks and canons, and with the attendance of countless dead of all times in strange old-world costumes. He recognised many whom he had known when alive. Then he was shown the library, and given the interpretation of the mysterious letters, but as it was in Latin, Aigner forgot it. After seven days and as many nights spent in the underground world, he returned to daylight, and as the hermit parted with him he solemnly bade him reserve the publication of what he had seen and heard till the expiration of thirty-five years, when times of distress and searchings of heart would come, and then the account of his vision might be of profit. And exactly at the end of the thirty- five years Lazarus Aigner died. There can be little doubt that, if the whole was not a clumsy fabrication, it was the record of a dream he had when sleeping, on the mountain outside the chapel of the Unterberg.
Roderic, the last of the Goths, has been laid hold of by legend and by poetry. Southey wrote his poem on the theme, and Scott his "Vision of Don Roderic," an odd blunder in the title, as don was not used prior to the ninth century. Roderic ascended the throne of the Goths in Spain in 709. According to the legend he seduced the daughter of Julian, Count of the Gothic possessions in Africa. She complained to her father, and he in revenge invited the Moors, whom he had hitherto valiantly opposed, to aid him in casting Roderic from his throne, the issue of which was the defeat and death of Roderic, and the occupation of nearly the whole peninsula by the Moors. At Toledo is a cave with a tower at its entrance formerly dedicated to Hercules, and tradition said that he who entered would learn the future fate of Spain. The cave still exists. The entrance lies near San Ginos; it was opened in 1546 by Archbishop Siliceo, but has never since, according to Forbes, been properly investigated. The story went that in spite of the entreaties of the prelate and some of his great men, Roderic burst open the iron door, and descended into the cave, where he found a bronze statue with a battle-axe in its hands. With this it struck the floor repeatedly, making the hall reverberate with the sound of the blows. Then Roderic read on the wall the inscription, "Unfortunate king, thou hast entered here in evil hour." On the right side of the wall were the words, "By strange nations thou shalt be dispossessed and thy subjects departed." On the shoulders of the statue were written the words, "I summon the Arabs," and on its breast, "I do mine office." The king left the cave sorrowful, and the same night an earthquake wrecked the tower and buried the entrance to the cave.
Evidently Shakespeare had this story in his mind when he wrote the scene of the descent of Macbeth into the cave of Hekate.
Although the oracles had ceased to speak in the pagan temples and caves, yet the desire remained to question the spirits and to inquire into the future, and for this purpose throughout the Middle Ages either wizards were had recourse to that a look might be taken in their magic mirrors, or else the churches were resorted to and the sacred text received as the response of God to some question put by the inquirer. When Chramm revolted against his father Clothair, he approached Dijon, when, says Gregory of Tours, the priests of the cathedral having placed three books on the altar, to wit the Prophets, the Acts of the Apostles, and the Gospels, they prayed God to announce to them what would befall Chramm, and by His power reveal whether he would be successful and come to the throne, and they received the reply as each opened the book.
Gregory also says that Meroveus, flying before the wrath of his father Chilperic, placed three books on the tomb of S. Martin at Tours, the Psalter, the Book of Kings, and the Gospels; he kept vigil all night, and passed three days fasting. But when he opened the books at random, the responses were so alarming that he despaired, and left the sepulchre in tears. [Footnote: For many more instances see Lalanne (L.), CuriositÉs des Traditions, Paris, 1847.]
The councils sought to put an end to this superstition. The sixteenth canon of the Council of Vannes, held in 465, forbade clerks, under pain of excommunication, to consult these sortes sacrÆ, as they were called. This prohibition was extended to the laity by the Council of Agde in 506, and by that of Orleans in 511. It was renewed repeatedly, as, for instance, in the Council of Auxerre in 595, by a capitulary of Charlemagne in 789, and by the Council of Selingstadt in 1022, but always in vain. If inquirers might not seek for answers in the churches, at the tombs of the Saints, they would seek them in the dens of necromancers. In spite of this condemnation, consultation of the divine oracles even formed a portion of the liturgy; and at the consecration of a bishop, at the moment when the Book of the Gospels was placed on his head, the volume was opened, and the first verse at the head of the page was regarded as a prognostication of the character of his episcopate. There are numerous accounts of such presages in the chronicles. Guibert of Nogent relates, for instance, that when Landric, elected Bishop of Noyon, was receiving episcopal unction, the text of the Gospel foreshadowed evil—"A sword shall pierce through thine own soul also." After having committed several crimes, he was assassinated. He had, as his successor, the Dean of Orleans; the new bishop on being presented for consecration, there was sought, in the Gospel, for a prognostication concerning him, but the page proved a blank. It was as though God had said, "With regard to this man I have nothing to say." And in fact he died a few months later.
The same usage was practised in the Greek Church. At the consecration of Athanasius, nominated to the patriarchate of Constantinople by Constantine Porphyrogenetos, "Caracalla, Bishop of Nicomedia, having brought forward the Gospel," says the Byzantine historian Pachymeros, "the people were alert to learn the oracle of the opening of the volume. The Bishop of Nicomedia having perceived that the leading words were 'prepared for the devil and his angels,' groaned in his heart, and covering the passage with his hand, turned the leaves and opened at these words, 'and the birds of the air lodged in the branches of it,' which seemed to have no connection with the ceremony. All that could be was done to conceal the oracles, but it was found impossible to cover up the fact. It was said that these passages condemned the consecration, but they were not the effect of chance, because there is no such thing as chance in the celebration of the divine mysteries." When Clovis was about to attack the Visigoths and drive them out of Aquitaine, he sent to inquire of the oracles of God at the tomb of S. Martin. His envoys arrived bearing rich presents, and on entering the church they heard the chanter recite the words of the psalm, "Thou hast girded me with strength unto the battle: Thou shalt throw down mine enemies under me. Thou hast made mine enemies also to turn their backs upon me: and I shall destroy them that hate me" (Ps. xviii. 39, 40). They returned with joy to the king, and the event justified the oracle.
I might fill pages with illustrations, but as these have no immediate reference to cave oracles, I will quote no more. It is obvious that recourse to churches and the tombs of the saints had taken the place of inquiries at the temples of the gods, and the grottoes dedicated to Fawns and Nymphs. So also it was by no means uncommon for recourse to be had to churches in which to sleep so as to obtain an oracle as to healing, as it had been customary for the same purpose to seek pagan temples. This was called Incubation.
The dreams produced were often the result of inhaling a gas that escaped in some of the caves, or through fissures in the floors of the temples. At Hierapolis in Phrygia was a cavern of Cybele. At the close of the fifth century, when the temple of the goddess had been completely abandoned through the interdiction of paganism, the philosopher Damascius, who had remained faithful to the old beliefs of his country, descended, along with a companion, into the Charonion in spite of the danger attending it, or was supposed to exist. He came forth safe and sound, according to his own account, but hardly had he reached his home before he dreamt that he had become Attys, the lover of Cybele, and that he assisted at a festival held in his honour. There were other such caves. In the visions seen by those sleeping in them, the divinities of healing appeared and prescribed the remedies to be taken by those who consulted them. Pilgrimages to these resorts— temples and caves of Æsculapius, Isis, and Serapis, were common events. Those who desired to consult Serapis slept in his temple at Canope. When Alexander was sick of the malady whereof he died, his friends went thither to learn if any cure were possible. "Those who go to inquire in dream of the goddess Isis," says Diodorus Siculus, "recover their health beyond expectation. Many have been healed of whom the physicians despaired." The temples were hung with ex-votos. At Lebedes, in Lydia, the sick went to pass the night in the temple of the Soteri, who appeared to them in dreams. It was the same in a temple in Sardinia. So also in one of Ino in Laconia. In the Cheronese, the goddess HemithÆa worked the same miracles as did Isis. She appeared in dream to the infirm and prescribed the manner in which they might be healed. In the Charonion of Nyssa it was the priest who consulted the gods in dream. In the temple of Æsculapius near CitherÆa, a bed was always ready for incubation. Christianity could not uproot so deeply founded superstitious convictions and practices.
The Emperor Constantine consecrated to the archangel Michael two churches near Byzantium, one was at Anaplous, on the Bosphorus, the other on the opposite shore at Brochoi. This second church replaced a temple that had, according to tradition, been founded by the Argonauts, and was called the Sosthenion. According to John Malala, Constantine slept in the temple and asked that he might be instructed in dream to whom the church which was to replace it should be dedicated. Great numbers from Byzantium and the country round had resort to these churches to seek the guidance of the archangel in their difficulties and a cure when sick. Sozomen, the ecclesiastical historian, relates an instance of a cure effected in one of the churches of S. Michael. Aquilinus, a celebrated lawyer, was ill with jaundice. "Being half dead, he ordered his servants to carry him to the church, in hopes of being cured there or dying there. When in it, God appeared to him in the night and bade him drink a mixture of honey, wine and pepper. He was cured, although the doctors thought the potion too hot for a malady of the bile. I heard also that Probian, physician of the Court, was also cured at the Michaelon by an extraordinary vision, of pains he endured in his feet." "Not being able to record all the miracles in this church, I have selected only these two out of many." [Footnote: Hist. Eccles., ii. 3; see for many illustrations Maury (A.), La Magic, Paris, 1860. Part II., chap. i.]
That which took place at the Michaelons on the Bosphorus occurred elsewhere, in churches dedicated to SS. Cosmas and Damian. At Ægae in Cilicia was a shrine of Æsculapius, and incubation was practised in his temple. It afterwards became a church of Cosmas and Damian, and the same practices continued after the rededication. The chain of superstitious practices continued after the change in religion without any alteration. In the church of S. Hilaire in France is to be seen the saint's bed, "to which they carry insane persons, and after certain prayers and religious rites, they lay them to sleep in the bed, and they recover." [Footnote: Jodocus Sincerus, Itin. Galliae, 1617.]
In my "Book of South Wales" I have shown that the same usage continued as late as the beginning of the nineteenth century in the church of Christchurch near Caerleon, on the gravestone of one John Colmer, and have reproduced a print of 1805, representing a man lying there to get cured.
We have accordingly a series of customs beginning in caves dedicated to heathen deities, transferred to their temples, then to churches under the invocation of Christian saints and of angels.
One might well have supposed that with the advance of education, there would have been an end to all cave oracles and grotto apparitions. But not so—there is a special mystery in a cave that stimulates the imagination, and the final phase of this tendency is the apparition at Lourdes, and the consecration of the grotto. The vision at Le Salette has not retained its hold on the superstitious, because it was on an alp, but that of Lourdes being in a cave, roused religious enthusiasm to the highest pitch. That the supposed apparition talked nonsense made the whole the more delightfully mysterious.
"Yonder, beneath the ivy which drapes the rock, the grotto opens," writes Zola, "with its eternally flaming candles. From a distance it looks rather squat and misshapen, a very narrow and humble aperture for the breath of the Infinite which issued from it. The statue of the Virgin has become a mere speck, which seems to move in the quiver of the atmosphere heated by the little yellow flames. To see anything it is necessary to raise oneself; for the silver altar, the harmonium, the heaps of bouquets thrown there, the votive offerings streaking the smoky walls, are scarcely distinguishable from behind the railing."
The floor of the grotto is scarcely raised above the level of the river Gave, which has had to be thrust back to make room for a passage to the mouth of the cavern. The whole story of the apparition of the Virgin there rests on the unsupported assertion of an hysterical scrofulous peasant girl. But who can say that the cult of sacred grottoes is a thing of the past when tens of thousands of pilgrims visit Lourdes annually, and believe in the story that confers sanctity on it!
[Illustration: KYNASTON'S CAVE. Interior. On the right is Kynaston's chamber, on the left is the stable of his horse. The lettering and date cut in the pier were made subsequent to his death.]
[Illustration: NESS CLIFF. Cave occupied by Humphrey Kynaston the outlaw, with his horse. In the interior is the stable as well as Kynaston's own cell.]
