The Cross in Ritual, Architecture and Art

CHAPTER II.

The Development of the Crucifix.

We have already seen that the Christians of the first centuries were deterred by circumstances from any general use of the figure of the Cross. It follows naturally that the Crucifix was still later in coming into existence. Indeed, long after Christianity had become the acknowledged religion of the empire, there were reasons which made its use inexpedient. The faithful, though now protected from insult and persecution, were still a minority surrounded by the adherents of paganism; and as the influence of the Church gradually spread to the barbarian tribes beyond the confines of the empire, she was constantly being brought face to face with fresh forms of idolatry in Northern Europe, in Africa, and in Asia. It needs but little acquaintance with folk-lore to recall illustrations of the fact that heathenism died hard; even when active opposition had been overcome, and the bulk of the people had, perhaps, as was not seldom the case, almost by whole tribes at a time, outwardly accepted the faith, yet old customs, old superstitions lived on. Thus to the present day the druidic regard for the mistletoe has a traditional existence in England after eighteen centuries of Christian teaching, and in Cornwall and elsewhere mid-summer night sees the hilltops ablaze with bonfires that, meaningless now, once proclaimed the fire-worshippers’ devotion. If such things are still found amongst us, innocent indeed now of any idolatrous intent, but eloquent of the vitality of the customs of idolatry, it is easy to divine the result that would have followed the introduction of the Crucifix into a world almost wholly heathen. It has been alleged that the Roman Senate offered to admit the Christ to the pantheon of the state, and similarly the Crucifix might have simply become the companion of the hammer of Thor, or the sun-crowned Phoebus, of the sacred ibis of Egypt, or the winged monsters of Assyria; or at best a mere substitute for them. Guided by a Divine instinct, the Church showed a wise self-restraint; and it was only as the decay of idolatry in the West removed this danger, that she allowed herself to contemplate the image of the Redeemer.

From the first, nevertheless, a yearning for the help towards devotion which the eye can give was felt, although the necessity of prudence and caution confined the faithful to the use of symbolic, rather than of historic, figures. Thus even in the days of the catacombs the Vine, the Dove, the Lamb, the Good Shepherd are found, with a meaning obviously Scriptural in origin; and again the Fish, specially recommended with the above emblems by S. Clement of Alexandria as a device for seals and rings, was frequently employed, as setting forth in an anagram, by means of its name in Greek, the words Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Saviour. These were all common forms, calculated to suggest Christian teaching to the believer, without exciting comment from the heathen. Meanwhile the simple cross was growing yearly more familiar to the people as the emblem of the Christian religion. Its earliest form seems to have been that known as the fylfot, like four Greek gammas joined at the base; a design that served, equally with the emblems just described, to suggest the sign to the Christian without offending others. But so rapid was the change that took place consequent on the conversion of Constantine, that so early as the papacy of John I. (who died in the year 400) crosses were carried in the processions of the Church.

The next step was the natural one of combining with the cross one or other of the emblematic figures which were already accepted as referring to the Crucified. The Lamb with the cross, therefore, became a common symbol of the Crucifixion during the first six centuries. In its most restrained form we find simply above the head of the Lamb the sacred monogram as used on the labarum of the Christianized empire; and occasionally the figure becomes not so much a type as a representative of the Saviour, by having five bleeding wounds in its feet and side. Later the same emblem appears, often with a cruciform nimbus about its head, carrying a slender cross on a tall shaft, or a banner charged with a cross. Similarly a long cross-staff is sometimes placed, instead of the pastoral crook, in the hand of the Good Shepherd. In all these the emblem of Christ is the prominent feature of the assign, the cross being entirely subordinate. As it became possible to be less guarded in displaying the “ensign of the faith,” this order was to some extent reversed. On the tomb of Gallia Placida at Ravenna, of the fifth century, the Lamb stands on a mount—the “Lamb standing on Mount Sion” of the Apocalypse—with behind it a cross, from the arms of which depend the Alpha and Omega. Again, the Lamb lies at the foot of the cross, an arrangement apparently referred to by S. Paulinus of Nola in the words, “Christ in the lamb stands ’neath the Cross all gleaming with His blood.”

AN EARLY CHRISTIAN TOMB AT WIRKSWORTHA more decided approximation to the Crucifix was made when the sacred Lamb was placed on the cross at the joining of the arms and the shaft; a most interesting example of which occurs on a slab unearthed at Wirksworth during the restoration of the church in 1820; it is part of a tomb, supposed to date from the seventh century.[1] In the sixth century we begin to meet with the Crucifix properly so called. Fortunatus gives us the first undoubted reference to one made in relief about the year 560, and S. Gregory of Tours, some thirty years later, refers to a painted one at Narboune. The famous Vatican cross, said to have been given by the Emperor Justin (elected 519) to Pope Gregory II., exhibits an interesting stage in the transition from the emblem to the figure of Christ. The sacred Lamb still keeps its place on a medallion in the centre, while a half-length figure of the Saviour in the act of benediction is on the upper limb of the cross, and another, probably S. John Baptist, is on the lower one; on the arms, with a curious lack of reverence and taste, are effigies of the Emperor and his wife Flavia. A book of the Gospels in the library at Munich, supposed to have been executed in this same century, has a cross which terminates above in a kind of arch, under which is a bust of Christ, while the Alpha and Omega hang from the transverse beams.

In the course of time the Cross itself seems to have been looked on, not so much as a suggestion of the Crucifixion, but as a type or emblem of Christ. A striking and curious example of this is to be found on a tomb in the church of S. Apollinare at Ravenna, where the artist has depicted the Transfiguration in a strange union of realism and symbolism. Moses and Elias are on either side, and the hand above suggests the Father, but three sheep stand for the chosen apostles, and in the centre is, not Christ, but the Cross.

It may, perhaps, have been the perception of such a tendency which led the Greek Fathers at the Council in Trullo, in 692, to feel that the time had come for a more emphatic assertion of the personality and human nature of the Redeemer in sacred art. Thus, at any rate, they decreed:—“We order that, instead of the Lamb, our Lord Jesus Christ shall be shown hereafter in His human form in the images; so that, without forgetting the height from which the Divine Word stooped to us, we shall be led to remember His mortal life, His passion, and His death, which paid the ransom for mankind.”

The alteration, however, was completed as cautiously as it had been begun, even the method of production partaking of the restraint exhibited in the development of the subject. The earliest crucifixes probably had the figure simply etched in outline, then it was painted upon the cross, and last of all it became a partial or complete relief. The last stage was not reached, unless in a few exceptional cases, until the ninth century.

The earliest crucifix in the catacombs is of the seventh or eight century, and Pope John VII., in 706, dedicated the first mosaic example in St. Peter’s at Rome. Benedict Biscop, Abbot of Jarrow (died 690), brought from Rome the first picture of the crucifixion of which we hear in the north of England. S. Augustine advancing with his monks to his first conference with King Ethelbert of Kent, was preceded by a silver cross and a crucifixion painted on a panel.

Now and again an iconoclastic spirit revealed itself in opposition to the growing use, not only of the crucifix but of images of saints and patriarchs, but it made no headway in the west. Serenus, Bishop of Marseilles, having broken down some images in a church, was reproved by Pope Gregory, on the ground that “in paintings on walls those who are unable to read books can read what in books they cannot.” In the east, however, the movement aroused much bitterness, and led even to persecution. Leo the Isaurian in 726, began an attack on all use of images, and a Council at Constantinople in 752, rejected them altogether. This decree was not accepted generally as final, but in the end the eastern church settled down under a compromise, which is still maintained, by which pictures in painting, mosaic, or engraving, are permitted, but all reliefs and statutes are forbidden.

Amongst the few crucifixes in the east which survived the destruction consequent first on the iconoclastic persecution, and then their final condemnation, is one that is probably the oldest in the world. It is in the Monastery of Xeropotami, on Mount Athos, and consists of an alleged fragment of the true cross with two transverse pieces, the upper and smaller one representing the superscription. On these lies a small ivory figure, and below is a representation of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in gold and jewels. It is said to have been a gift from the Empress Pulcheria (414-453), a fact which may account for its preservation.

The history of the development of the crucifix does not end, when the Divine effigy assumed the place of the type upon it.

The earliest artists made no attempt at realism in moulding or carving the figure. They on the contrary distinctly avoided it, and the crucifix continued to be emblematic. The truth which they aimed especially at setting forth was the voluntary character of the Lord’s self-sacrifice. The Christ, therefore, is generally clothed in a robe reaching to the feet, the outspread arms do not hang but lie straight along the transverse beam, and the feet are placed side by side upon a supporting ledge; the head is erect, and the eyes frequently, if not usually, are open and look straight forward. The side is not pierced, and often the hands and feet show neither wounds nor nails. Others of these early crucifixes set forth the thought of Christ as king reigning from the tree, in unison with that line of the famous hymn Vexilla Regis, “Regnavit a ligno Deus;” and the figure is here royally crowned and robed. A crucifix that has become historical is the Holy Face of Lucca, traditionally ascribed to the workmanship of S. Luke, but really dating from about the eight century. On this, by which William Rufus was in the habit of swearing under the name of the “Face of S. Luke,” are combined the characters of King and Priest, the figure being crowned, and clad in a dark sacerdotal vestment.

In these crucifixes there is no appeal to the emotions, no petition for pity on behalf of agonised humanity; but an impressive declaration on the part of the artist of his strong faith in the deity of the Sufferer.

In describing these various stages in the development of the crucifix, it must not be taken to imply that step always followed step in a regular progression. As a matter of fact the different phases overlapped considerably, and now and again a rare specimen is found antedating considerably the age to which a strict classification of styles would assign it. There is, for instance, a very early pectoral crucifix,[2] which while coinciding for the most part with the description just given, nevertheless represents the Christ as dead, with closed eyes and uncrowned head slightly inclined. A crucifix in the Treasury at Aix-la-Chapelle, known as the Cross of Lothario, though only of the ninth century, has the hanging arms, the fallen head, and the short cloth about the loins, much as we see them to-day.

Moreover as art in some lands was later in ripening than in others, so in some it clung for a longer period to the older art forms; while several of the primitive emblematic figures have become parts of the Church’s permanent teaching for the eyes of her children. The builders of our Norman churches had a special fondness for the Agnus Dei, the Lamb bearing the Cross, and we find it worked into their carvings in various ways. Amongst the most curious examples may be quoted the ancient fonts of Ilam and Tissington in Derbyshire.

Another peculiarity of the early crucifixes which sets them apart from historic representations of the crucifixion, is the attempt made to bring within the narrow limits of a cross other details, actual or mystical, of the atoning sacrifice. Many of them have on the upper limb, or on the arms, of the cross more or less conventional signs for the sun and moon. Sometimes, as on the pectoral cross noticed above, these are simply a circle, with or without rays, and a crescent; and in this case they are merely emblems of the powers of Creation witnessing the death of the Creator. Sometimes they are more fanciful, as when they are suggested by male and female figures within circles, wrapping their faces in their mantles; and here they are symbols of the supernatural darkness of the first Good Friday.

The Blessed Virgin and S. John the Divine are frequently placed on the arms of the Cross beyond the hands of Christ, as in a beautiful enamelled crucifix in the Museum at Copenhagen, which was once the property of Dagmar, the “darling queen” of Denmark, on whose breast it was buried in 1212. At the top, again, is often found a hand in the attitude of benediction, a symbol of the Father, and at the foot writhes the vanquished serpent. Many of the more elaborate examples had the reverse side enamelled or engraved, usually with appropriate Old Testament types, such as the fall of Adam, or the sacrifice of Abraham. Almost the only emblematic additions to the crucifix which have survived in use to our day are the apocalyptic symbols of the four evangelists, still often found on large crosses, especially those on rood screens; and the skull placed at the foot, sometimes with cross-bones, as a symbol of death. This last is much more modern in introduction than the others.

Crucifixes of this full and elaborate type are found as late as the fourteenth century, but as pictoral art advanced, and the whole scene of the passion was treated by artists with increasing frequency and fullness, the extraneous details dropped from the crucifix, and it became the simple, yet dignified expression of the crucified Redeemer, as it is this day.

Almost the same phases that we have noticed in the formation of the crucifix show themselves also in early representation of the crucifixion-scene. There is the same restraint in depicting the central figure, the same use of conventional forms and of symbols. There are examples in which, while the two thieves are shown as crucified, the Lord stands in the midst with outspread arms, but with no cross save that in the nimbus above His head. The persons introduced, as a rule, are few in number; almost always we have the Blessed Virgin and S. John, with emblematic signs for the sun and moon. Sometimes also the two thieves, and less frequently two female figures, personifying the Jewish and Christian Churches. The long robe, instead of the loin-cloth, on the Crucified, and the hand symbolising the father, are both common forms in the earliest paintings or carved ivories. There is a curious example in the chapel of S. Silvestro, at Rome, in which soldiers with a spear and the sponge on a reed are introduced, while a small angel is seen removing the crown of thorns and substituting a regal one. All the three crosses are shown in this fresco, the two lesser ones of the usual type, but the Saviour’s in the form of a Y, the cross that appears on the back of a Gothic chasuble. The date of this work is said to be 1248. The thirteenth and fourteenth centuries witnessed the rise of the great Italian schools of art, and with the artists’ growing mastery over their materials Crucifixions became fuller of details and less rigidly conventional, though not less devotional and scarcely less symbolic. A host of angels throngs about their dying Creator, wringing their hands in helpless grief, offering him their lowliest worship, or catching in chalices the sacred blood. At the foot of the Cross, also, is sometimes found a crowd of figures, representing not the hostile multitude that surged with blasphemous taunts before the failing eyes of Christ; but monks, bishops, virgins, kings, the saintly and devout of later ages, who stand in wrapt attention or kneel in homage.

In those days, when every art found its highest expression in the service of the Church, every encouragement was given to the painting of sacred subjects; and the artists, loyal sons for the most part of the Church, sought their highest ambition in realizing their ideal of a Crucifixion, a picta, or a madonna. To these feelings we owe the splendid frescoes of Cimabue, and of Giotto, the friend of Dante, at Assissi, the paintings of Duccio, the first, it is said, to represent our Lord on His Cross with the feet laid one upon the other; and above all the wonderful works of Fra Angelico, who embodied, if ever man did, his whole faith in his pictures, with reverent devotion and tenderest purity.

But it would be wandering beyond the limits, both of our subject and of our space, to examine in any detail those sacred canvases and frescoes by which the artists of the Italian Renaissance have placed the whole world under a debt, which never can be paid. The very names of Florence and Siena, of Umbria and Venice, of Verona, Ferrara, and Milan, seem redolent of sacred art.

Suffice it to say, in conclusion, that gradually as the fifteenth century advanced, and especially in the age that followed, the symbolic and devotional treatment of the tremendous spectacle of the Crucifixion was eclipsed by the realistic and historic method. The painter no longer approached his subject with awe, that compelled a reserve eloquent of faith in its great mystery; but too often he sought in frenzied crowds, impassioned Magdalens, and contorted limbs to display his own skill only. For Crucifixions that raise the thoughts and heart from the canvas to Calvary itself, we must turn back to those ages, which, with less anatomical knowledge, and perhaps less technical skill, were nevertheless inspired with more perfect ideals and nobler art from the mere fulness of a simple and sincere faith.

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