RTWELL.DE LA 
 EX.AVL.REG.ET.COLL.AEN.NAS .OXON 
 
 SOC.ANT.SOC. 
 
 CVBICVLARIVS.HONORIS.DECVRIALIS 
 AB.ENSE-ET. LACERNA 
 PONTIFICIS . MAXIMI 
 
 GARDE.GRISSELLA
 
 UCSB LIBRARY 
 
 ESSAYS ON FOREIGN SUBJECTS.
 
 ESSAYS 
 
 ON 
 
 FOREIGN SUBJECTS 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN 
 
 THIRD MARQUESS OF BUTE, K.T., LL.D. 
 
 ALEXANDER GARDNER, 
 
 ^nilwhtt to $tr latt fLtittty <Qni-rn Victoria, 
 
 PAISLEY; AND 26 PATERNOSTER SQUARE, LONDON. 
 
 1901.
 
 *** The proof-sheets of this volume of Essays down 
 to page 251 were corrected by the writer himself
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PACK 
 
 THE LAST RESTING-PLACE OF ST. ANDREW,- 1 
 
 ON THE ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF THE NATIVES 
 
 OF TENERIFE, - 51 
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS, - 113 
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO BEFORE THE VENETIAN 
 
 INQUISITION, 167 
 
 THE ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO, 219 
 
 PATMOS, - 253 
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS, 297 
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL, - - 329 
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI, - 359 
 
 INDEX, . . . 391
 
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 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 A LTHOUGH a Neapolitan would probably not relish 
 r*- the remark, there would be a good deal to be said 
 for the proposition that the Gulf of Salerno is even more 
 beautiful than the Bay of Naples. The best views of 
 the Bay of Naples are certainly those from the land, 
 where the spectator is surrounded by the exquisite 
 vegetation which forms so delightful a feature in that 
 enchanting region. But the outlines of the land itself 
 are seldom striking, and even the immense cone of 
 Vesuvius is not picturesque in form ; while the lovely 
 colour of the sea and atmosphere are liable in the 
 winter and spring to be blighted by the cold winds of 
 the North. On the other side of the peninsula of 
 Sorrento the view lies open only to the South. The 
 sea is protected from the blasts of the North, and the 
 land-locked appearance so admired by the Neapolitans 
 is more than compensated for by the unbroken expanse 
 of sunlit sea which stretches away beyond the Isles of 
 the Syrens until the tint of its blue waters melts 
 through phases of silver mist into the blue of the 
 Southern sky. The softer vegetation of the shores of 
 the Bay here gives place to wilder and more natural 
 though scantier woods, mostly found in the glens ; and 
 instead of the rounded hills of the more Northern gulf, 
 the traveller gazes with a wonder and admiration not 
 
 A
 
 2 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 unmingled with awe upon the tremendous precipices, 
 hollowed out repeatedly into huge caverns, which rise 
 from the very shore and hang beetling over the road 
 cut in their sides. It is about the point where this 
 grandeur of nature is most striking, that the antient 
 city of Amain, gathered into the mouth of a glen, 
 stands between the mountains and the sea. It is 
 difficult, on entering the dirty little town, to realize 
 that this was once one of the great maritime powers of 
 the world. To the historian its past greatness must 
 always invest it with extraordinary interest. To the 
 Scottish tourist, however, it possesses a special and 
 national feature of attraction in the fact that its 
 Cathedral covers the last resting-place of the Patron- 
 Saint of his country. 
 
 This is not one of those identifications which, like 
 that of the so-called ashes of the Baptist at Genoa, 
 become almost inevitably the subject of the more or 
 less respectful scepticism of the antiquary. The history 
 of the bones of the Apostle is well-known. They 
 remained in their grave at Patrai in the Peloponuesos, 
 where they had been laid by Maximilla when they were 
 taken down from the cross, until the time of the 
 Emperor Constantine. That they were among those 
 bodies of Christian heroes which were gathered by him 
 to shed lustre upon the Churches of his new capital 
 appears from a curious passage in Jerome's Book against 
 Vigilantius* ' He complains,' says the eminent 
 Scriptural scholar, ' he complains that the reliques of 
 the martyrs should be covered with a costly veil, 
 instead of being wrapped in stuff or sackcloth or thrown 
 on to the dunghill, so that nothing should be worshipped 
 
 * S. Hieronymi Opera Omnia. Tom. II. Part I. p. 391, Venice, 1767.
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 3 
 
 except the drunken and drowsy Vigilantius. Are we 
 then guilty of sacrilege when we enter the Churches of 
 the Apostles ? Was the Emperor Constantine I. guilty 
 of a sacrilege when he brought to Constantinople the 
 holy reliques of Andrew, Luke and Timothy, whereat 
 the very devils who possess Vigilantius himself do roar 
 and acknowledge their presence ? ' The spot of the 
 tomb, as in the Church of the Apostles, is indicated by 
 the fact that it was for this reason that the sepulchre 
 of Constantine himself was prepared in this place, a 
 fact incidentally recorded by Chrysostom. * Tell me 
 then/ exclaims the golden-mouthed orator,* ' wilt thou 
 dare to say that their Lord is dead, whose very servants, 
 even when they are dead themselves, are the Patrons 
 of the Monarchs of the whole world ? And this is a 
 thing which one may see, not at Rome only, but also at 
 Constantinople ; for here also did the son of the Great 
 Constantine think to do him vast honour by burying 
 him in the vestibule of the Fisherman.' 
 
 It was during the sojourn of the remains of the 
 Apostle at Constantinople that they underwent a 
 mutilation which, according to the plausible conjecture 
 of Dr. Skene, was the remote cause of the national 
 position which the Galilean Fisherman now occupies 
 among us. When Gregory the Great returned in 584 
 from discharging the duty of Apocrisiarius at the court 
 of Tiberius II., he brought with him to Rome an arm 
 of St. Andrew, which the Emperor had given him, and 
 placed it in the monastery of St. Andrew which he had 
 erected upon the site of his ancestral home, t From 
 this it may be conjectured were taken the reliques 
 brought to England by Augustine, a monk of the same 
 
 * Horn. xxvi. On 2 Cor. t Alban Butler. March 12.
 
 4 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 monastery, and in honour of which his Royal convert 
 Ethelbert erected the Church of St. Andrew at Roches- 
 ter. Thence again may well have been derived the 
 reliques which were placed in the Church of Hexham, 
 and these are the same which, according to the theory 
 of the late Historiographer Royal, * were presented 
 to Angus, King of the Picts, by Acca the Bishop, after 
 his expulsion from his See in 731. 
 
 After the sack of Constantinople in 1204, when the 
 Crusaders had more or less glutted their rapacity upon 
 the more intrinsically valuable possessions of the in- 
 habitants, it occurred to some of them whose tastes 
 \vere of an ecclesiastical character to send to their own 
 countries some of the mortal remains of the Saints 
 which reposed in the Churches of the Imperial City. 
 The Papal Legate, Cardinal Peter Capuano. who was a 
 member of a noble family of Amalfi, made a very large 
 collection of this kind, including the entire body of the 
 
 * Celtic Scotland. II. 261-275. Venerabilis Bcedie Historia Ecclesiastica 
 Gentis Anglorum. II. 3. V. 20, and the appended chronicle, nub anno 731. 
 The fact that the reliques which were received by Angus, and in honour of 
 which he changed the name of Kilrighmonaigh to that of St. Andrews, and 
 proclaimed the Apostle Patron of his Kingdom, consisted of three fingers 
 (probably finger-bones) and a fragment of an arm, is certainly in favour of 
 the derivation from the arm brought by Gregory to Rome. There are also 
 said to have been a knee-pan and a tooth, which may have been the addi- 
 tions of subsequent and less critical times. Most of the arm brought by 
 Gregory seems to be still at Rome, where the monastery of St. Andrew is 
 now called that of San Gregorio, but a part was given by Pius II. to the 
 Church of San Spirito in Cassia. In Italy, the Churches of Milan, Nola, 
 and Brescia all claim to possess small fragments of the body of the Apostle. 
 There is a very small portion of the remains at Patrai, presumably brought 
 from Constantinople. The Petits Bollandistes (Nov. 30.) mention several 
 particles in France, but do not say whether they profess to have come 
 from Constantinople, Rome, or Amalfi. They include an arm-bone, at 
 Paris. The considerable piece of bone now in Edinburgh was brought 
 from Amalfi a few years ago. The so-called head at Rome will be discussed 
 in another foot-note.
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 5 
 
 Apostle Andrew, those of the brother physicians Cos- 
 mas and Damian, and of the lad Vitus, who had suffered 
 martyrdom under the persecution of Diocletian, and 
 that of the Egyptian hermit Macarius, who had died in 
 the desert of Scete in the year 390, along with a great 
 number of skulls, separate limbs, and other things of 
 the same kind. He arrived at Gaeta with these reliques 
 towards the end of March, 1206. There he presented 
 to the Hospital the head of the Martyr Theodore. 
 Other portions he gave to Naples and other places, in- 
 cluding the head of the Apostle James the Less to 
 Sorrento, and the arm of the Great Athanasius to 
 Monte Cassino, but the great bulk of his store, including 
 the four entire bodies, he reserved for the Cathedral of 
 his native city ' wherein he had received his first 
 Christian nourishment and his first clerical tonsure.' 
 There they still remain. The body of the Galilean 
 Fisherman was brought into the Cathedral of Amalfi on 
 the 8th of May, 1208 ; and a curious contemporary 
 account of the event is still in existence, which it is 
 worth while here to quote 
 
 ' In the year of the Incarnation of Our Lord one 
 thousand two hundred and eight, upon the eighth day 
 of the month of May, of the Eleventh Indiction, during 
 the preceding night the sacred body was venerated by 
 all men in the honourable place in which it had been 
 kept, with watching, and tapers, and smoke of divers 
 perfumes, since none of the citizens believed that the 
 worth of the Apostle would avail him unless he took 
 part in this wake. When day broke, the whole city 
 shone in a garland of new and various decorations, be- 
 sprinkled with flowers, and clad in stuffs of divers 
 colours. A countless multitude of both sexes go forth 
 with songs of joy and lighted tapers to meet the holy
 
 6 THE LAST .RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 body. The aforesaid Cardinal, and the Archbishop and 
 the Bishops of the province, come forward with bare 
 feet and rest the sacred load upon their shoulders. 
 The members of the ecclesiastical Orders go before, 
 Catholic noblemen, Bishops, Abbats, monks and clerks, 
 singing aloud for joy, and behind them follow the 
 multitude of the people with shouting. And so they 
 carry [the body of the Apostle] to the Church dedicated 
 in his name. There the same Cardinal from the pulpit 
 of the same Church having courteously commanded 
 silence, preached the Word of God unto the people. 
 He fired the multitude with devotion toward the 
 Apostle, that they might surround his body with the 
 service of veneration which is due to it, that they 
 might assemble in unwearied prayer around it, that 
 they might beseem it by their works and honour it by 
 the worthiness of their lives. Then he opened the 
 silver coffin wherein the remains of the sacred body 
 were enclosed, and reverently showed to the eyes of all 
 men the head and other bones, so that all might see 
 and believe that God had visited His people through 
 the power of His blessed Apostle Andrew, who had 
 chosen to himself a dwelling-place in Amain*/ etc." 5 ' 
 
 After this the reliques seem to have been taken down 
 into the crypt, in charge only of a few monks of 
 advanced years, and the public saw them no more. 
 Neither was any shrine erected to mark their place. 
 Only eight years after, in the year 1216, Honorius III., 
 as we learn from the Amalfitan record, ' having ob- 
 
 * See the Memorle Storico-Diplomatiche dell' antica Citta e Ducato di 
 Amalfi,, per Matteo Camera. (Salerno. Stabilmento Tipografico Nazionale. 
 1876.) The writer begs to express his indebtedness to this most learned 
 and valuable work for nearly all the historical matter contained in the 
 present article, so far as it concerns Amalfi.
 
 THE LAST BESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 7 
 
 tained the dignity of the Apostolic See, and being poor 
 in spirit but rich in grace, and enkindled with a 
 devotion toward the blessed Apostle Andrew, sent an 
 Apostolic Command with messengers to the Archbishop 
 John [Capuano, brother to the Cardinal Peter], that 
 there might be sent to him some honourable portion of 
 the Apostle aforesaid which lay in his Church, since he 
 was very wishful to build a Church in his honour. But 
 since it had been God's Will that the monks (viri 
 religiosi) who had put the holy reliques in the bottom 
 of the said crypt (confessio) should be taken away, 
 (sublati de medio) and the place wherein the body of 
 the Apostle was shut up was known to no man, he was 
 not able to get that which he sought, and could not ob- 
 tain that which he commanded/ 
 
 The fact was, that, as afterwards appeared, the reli- 
 ques were divided into two portions, and buried in 
 separate places, the more important, as including the 
 skull, being placed in the more recondite position, 
 where the chance of its discovery was the least. There 
 can be little doubt that the motive of this curious policy 
 was to protect the Church of Amalfi from the chance of 
 being deprived of its sacred deposit. It is probable 
 enough, as has been conjectured, that Cardinal Peter 
 Capuano himself was not without apprehensions that 
 the new Latin dynasty which had been established upon 
 the throne of the Caesars might take effective measures 
 to have the body of the Apostle sent back to its grave 
 at Constantinople. But the precaution was anyhow 
 justified by the results, when it enabled the Amalfitan 
 Church to elude the commands of the Pope himself in 
 1216. 
 
 In the beginning of the Fourteenth Century the less 
 important portion of the body (the portion, that is,
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 which did not include the skull) was found in the silver 
 coffin in which the whole had been displayed to the 
 public by Cardinal Capuano, buried at the bottom of a 
 pit nine palms (nearly seven feet) deep, sunk in the 
 floor of the crypt, directly underneath the High Altar 
 in the Cathedral above. The reason of the position is 
 obvious. It is found in the words of Rev. vi., 9, 10, 11 
 ' And when He had opened the Fifth Seal, I saw 
 under the Altar the souls of them that were slain for the 
 Word of God, and for the testimony which they held ; 
 and they cried with a loud voice, saying, How long, 
 Lord, Holy and True, dost Thou not judge and avenge 
 our blood on them that dwell on the earth ? And 
 white robes were given unto every one of them ; and it 
 was said unto them, that they should rest yet for a 
 little season, until their fellow- servants also and their 
 brethren, that should be killed as they were, should be 
 fulfilled.' In this spot the remains, in their silver case, 
 were allowed to rest, and have since been suffered to 
 remain to this present day ; but since their discovery in 
 this position there has been no farther attempt to cast 
 uncertainty upon the exact place, and the mouth of the 
 pit in which they lie has always formed, as it does to- 
 day, the centre of all the public veneration which 
 gathers around the grave of the brother of Peter. The 
 other portion of the body, that, namely, which included 
 the head, remained for a much longer time concealed 
 from sight and knowledge. It was not till January 2, 
 1603, that in the course of the works for the restoration 
 of the crypt, conducted by Scipio Cretella of Cilento, 
 under the commands and at the cost of Philip III. of 
 Spain, another pit of the same depth was discovered to 
 the West of the first. At the bottom of this was a 
 white marble cist, the inscription upon which testified
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 9 
 
 that it enclosed part of the body of the Apostle. On 
 examination, it was found to contain the skull and the 
 rest of the missing portion of the other bones. A nota- 
 rial instrument was drawn up attesting the facts, one 
 copy of which was placed in the cist, and another in the 
 archives of the See. The cist itself was transferred to 
 the same pit with the other remains. On January 29, 
 1846, the deposit was again examined; and on this 
 occasion the skull was brought up into the crypt and 
 placed permanently in a reliquary of silver and glass, 
 the rest of the bones were re-united in the old silver 
 coffin which had so many centuries before already 
 enclosed them all, and the marble cist was built into 
 the wall of the Southern staircase leading to the crypt. 
 The Cathedral which now stands over the grave of 
 St. Andrew is a building of different epochs, and pre- 
 sents the traces of a singular number of vicissitudes and 
 changes. Putting aside the cloister or cemetery, called 
 the Paradise, which dates from the Thirteenth Cen- 
 tury, and the great detached campanile or bell-tower, 
 which was finished about the same time, and both of 
 which may be called external to the building itself, the 
 Cathedral proper consists of two distinct Churches. The 
 older and smaller of these is dedicated in honour of the 
 Assumption of the Blessed Virgin, and seems to be of 
 an unknown date. It had an aisle or chapel on the 
 North, and on the South another aisle or series of private 
 chapels belonging to great families of the Amalfitan 
 Republic. The latter arid larger Church, dedicated in 
 honour of the Apostle Andrew, is built immediately to 
 the South of and against the older building, into which 
 it opens, and both are as it were bound together by one 
 vast porch or narthex, which runs along the front of 
 both. This later Church owes its existence to the Doge
 
 10 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 Manso III., a prince who seems to have had ecclesiasti- 
 cal tastes, as it was also under his government that the 
 See was raised to the rank of an Archbishopric. It was 
 begun towards the year 980, a period remarkable in 
 Italy for the erection of great buildings of this sort, St. 
 Mark's at Venice having been begun in 977. 
 
 O O 
 
 The East end of this building seems to have been 
 pulled down and re-erected on a more splendid plan by 
 the munificent Cardinal Capuano in the year 1203. 
 The record states that he ' reconstructed the Church in 
 a fair and larger form,' and in a document dated October 
 11, 1208 (five months after the arrival of the body of 
 the Apostle), it is remarked that he had ' re-constructed 
 the Altar and crypt (titalum et conftssionem).' It may 
 be conjectured that these reconstructions by Capuano 
 were so extensive as to admit of the Cathedral's being 
 regarded as a new building, and consecrated anew, but 
 this time under the name of St. Andrew, after the 
 arrival of the reliques of the latter.* To Capuano was 
 therefore owing the then magnificent arrangement of 
 the High Altar, which stood in the open, underneath 
 what would, in one of our Northern churches, be the 
 lantern. The Altar itself was built of precious marbles 
 and mosaics, and was placed under a baldaquin of the 
 same materials, at the corners of which were the 
 emblems of the Four Evangelists. Under, that is to 
 say, apparently, within the Altar, were deposited the 
 remains of the other Saints. There were also two 
 
 * Signer Camera, in his Istoria detta Citta e Costiera di Amalfi, p. 33, 
 seems to indicate that the Tenth Century Cathedral, if indeed it had ever 
 been consecrated, had been dedicated in honour of the Baptist. The pre- 
 sent writer has not succeeded in ascertaining the year of the consecration 
 of the renewed and completed building. The anniversary of the event is 
 kept yearly at Amalfi upon the Sunday which may fall nearest to Sept. 1.
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 11 
 
 splendid ambones, of the like materials, the one upon 
 the North side for the Gospel, and the other upon the 
 South for the Epistle. The Archiepiscopal throne, in 
 the midst of an accompanying semi-circular synthronos 
 for the Priests, all of marble, was placed against the 
 inner wall of the apse ; and there can be no doubt that 
 the whole work was completed with inlaid pavements 
 and balustrades in harmony. To the munificence of the 
 same Capuano, after the arrival of the Apostle's body, 
 seems to have been owing the beautiful mosaics with 
 which the apse is known to have been adorned, and 
 which represented Christ above, and beneath, the Saints 
 Andrew, Cosmas, Damian, Vitus, and Macarius, divided 
 by palm-trees. To Capuano likewise is ascribed the 
 noble narthex. No great alteration appears to have 
 been made from the beginning of the Thirteenth Cen- 
 tury till the close of the Sixteenth, when Philip II. of 
 Spain, thinking the crypt and the Altar therein some- 
 what 'rough' (rudis) determined to decorate it in the 
 most costly manner. The work was continued after his 
 death, and completed in 1616. During the greater part 
 of that century the Cathedral of Amalfi must have been 
 in the zenith of its splendour. Nothing had been 
 injured. The passage of time merely enriched the tints 
 of its decorations, and added to the inestimable series 
 of historical monuments with which it was enriched. 
 
 The decadence began in 1691. In that year the roof 
 and walls of the nave and transepts of the great Church 
 were lowered, by which seems to be meant the destruc- 
 tion of the clerestory, and everything upon a line with 
 it. The cause of this mutilation is unknown : the walls 
 may have been considered no longer safe. The building 
 must thus have been very much damaged, and possibly 
 presented a more or less ruinous appearance which may
 
 12 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 have offered an inducement to the most disastrous 
 transmogrification which it has ever undergone, viz., 
 the so-called restoration by the Archbishop Michael 
 Bologna, from the designs and under the direction of 
 the architect, Peter Anthony Sorma.no of Savona. This 
 work was begun upon Nov. 12, 1703, and lasted fifteen 
 years. The succeeding pages will convey some idea of 
 its character. Its main features were the destruction 
 oFall works of art and of all historical monuments, and 
 the inauguration of an universal reign of plaster and 
 whitewash, with a certain amount of excessively fine 
 rococo inlaid marble work inserted at intervals as a sort 
 of startling contrast. ' I have now/ wrote the Arch- 
 
 o 
 
 bishop to Pope Innocent XIII. , ' completely brought the 
 Cathedral Church into a noble and modern shape. 
 The chapels were all completely built by me.' 
 
 In this condition it remained until within the last 
 twenty years, when the local authorities set a move- 
 ment on foot to attempt some restoration by public 
 subscription. They employed as architect the Cavaliere 
 Henry Alvino of Naples. The platform was then re- 
 stored, the narthex was practically re-built, and the 
 facade again raised. It was evidently the intention of 
 Alvino, had he been enabled to do so, again to raise the 
 whole roof of the nave and transepts, and to build a 
 new clerestory. The investigations which he began in. 
 the interior point likewise to a desire to restore at least 
 the great double marble arcades which Bologna built 
 up inside rectangular piers. But Signer Alvino is dead. 
 And nothing is being done now in the way of restora- 
 tion save the continued manufacture of the large glass 
 and gold mosaics which form part of his design for the 
 completion of the facade. 
 
 Although th.3 upper portions of the bell-tower and of
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 13 
 
 the facade of the Cathedral are more or less visible from 
 different points of view in approaching Amalfi, the 
 traveller does not see the whole front until he finds 
 himself in a small and irregular open space in the centre 
 of the town very dirty and noisy which serves as a 
 market-place. To the Scottish traveller the strangeness 
 of the Southern sights and sounds all around forms a 
 curious contrast with the familiar type of the image of 
 St. Andrew leaning on his cross, which rises in white 
 marble over the public fountain, and greets the eye in 
 various other representations on every hand. One side 
 of this irregular square is occupied by the front of the 
 Cathedral. Although small as compared with the 
 immense fabrics to which the Northerner is accustomed 
 to apply this name, it is handsomer than many which 
 serve the same purpose in Italy. It is also made im- 
 posing by the very great height of the artificial plat- 
 form upon which it stands. This is in fact a block of 
 building some thirty feet high, and in which a most 
 splendid crypt might have been, and perhaps might 
 still be, arranged, but which, with the exception of the 
 Easternmost portion, is now either neglected or applied 
 to secular purposes. This platform is pierced at long 
 but regular intervals, first by a series of quatrefoils, 
 and, above them, by small double windows, sharply 
 pointed, each divided by a white marble shaft. The 
 general tone of the whole faade is the sombre grey, 
 black, and white combination of all the monumental 
 buildings of this part of the world, and is also in the 
 sort of nondescript striped architecture, partly Roman- 
 esque, partly Byzantine, partly Gothic, by which they 
 are distinguished, and which is not wanting in a certain 
 dignity, rather, perhaps, historical than artistic. The 
 restoration, or rather the building, of the present fa9ade
 
 14 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 and porch, although not by any means perfect, reflects 
 ciedit both upon the energy of the people of Amalfi and 
 upon the skill and taste of their architect, the Cavaliere 
 Alvino. The works were executed by public subscrip- 
 tion, and under his plans and directions, not many years 
 ago, but are, in fact, not yet completed, as they still 
 await the mosaics of glass and gold. Had this architect 
 lived, it is probable that he might have succeeded in 
 doing yet more for the unfortunate but interesting- 
 building placed, at least in part, in his hands. As it is, 
 he hardly touched the interior, and the single place in 
 which he removed the concealing plaster in search of 
 the old work, has again been covered up. 
 
 To reach the Church the visitor first ascends a low 
 landing-place raised on four steps, and then a very steep 
 straight flight of no less than fifty-seven steps of grey 
 stone. This flight is very broad, arid its sides centre 
 with the two outer of the three open arches which form 
 the middle of the long porch or narthex which stretches 
 alono- the whole front of the building above. This 
 
 o o 
 
 narthex or porch was, as already stated, originally built 
 by the Cardinal Peter Capuano at the beginning of the 
 Thirteenth Century, but has practically been recon- 
 structed by Signer Alvino. As the front of the Cathe- 
 dral across which it stretches consists not only of the 
 Cathedral of the Tenth Century with its nave and two 
 aisles, but also of that of the smaller and older Cathedral 
 against which it is built on the North, with its chapels 
 on either side, the ascending steps and the great open 
 arches of the narthex to which they lead, and which 
 centre with the newer building, are not in the middle, 
 but considerably to the South of the middle, of the 
 whole narthex. There is accordingly only one other 
 large arch to the South, but three such to the North,
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 15 
 
 where there is also the beginning of a fourth, which 
 rests against the bell-tower. All these arches are filled 
 in the lower part by a solid decorative parapet, and 
 then by three-light open tracery, becoming much more 
 elaborate above, in white marble. The centre arch of 
 all, which directly faces the great West door of the 
 Cathedral, is double in height, and is covered, along 
 with the open arch on either side, by a sort of tym- 
 panum or flattened gable, inlaid in black and white. 
 
 Immediately above the roof of the narthex, the upper 
 part of the older Cathedral appears on the North side 
 in a state of white-wash, and low tile roof. The front 
 of the newer Cathedral on the South presents the out- 
 line of a long row of interlaced pointed arches, all blind 
 except one arch in the middle of the end of each aisle, 
 which is pierced, so as to form a single pointed window. 
 This outlined arcade must indicate either the traces of 
 the past or the intentions of the future. Well raised 
 above this series of arches is a bold string-course start- 
 ing just under the commencement of the aisle-roof and 
 crossing the whole building in one uninterrupted line. 
 Resting on the string-course and still all beneath the 
 level of the point where the aisle-roofs lean against the 
 walls of the nave, is another tier of interlaced pointed 
 arches, here pierced with a row of eleven considerable- 
 sized pointed windows. A good way above this tier, 
 quite clear of the aisle-roof, and stretching completely 
 from side to side, is a third row of interlaced pointed 
 arches, this time smaller, forming a set of twelve flat 
 niches, separated from one another by pairs of white 
 marble shafts. It is deplorable to have to record that 
 these white marble shafts were procured by robbing the 
 outside of the apse of the ruined but venerable Church 
 of St. Eustace at Pontone an act all the more inex-
 
 16 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 cusable in Italy, where white marble abounds to such 
 an extent that it could almost have been procured from 
 any shop with less cost and trouble than it must have 
 taken to dislodge these small columns from their place 
 at Pontone and bring them to Amalfi. These twelve 
 niches are to be rilled with mosaic pictures of the 
 Twelve Apostles, upon a gold ground, by Salviati, of 
 Venice. Several of these pictures are already finished, 
 though not put up. The walls now rise considerably 
 higher before they end in the great tympanum or 
 flattish gable which tops the fa9ade. In this tympanum 
 is to be placed another, but very large gold and glass 
 mosaic by Salviati, representing a colossal bust of 
 Christ, with seraphim on either side. When all these 
 mosaics are finished and in their places, the effect can- 
 not fail to be really more or less splendid, and the ex- 
 treme brilliancy of the blue and gold stars of the roof 
 of the iiarthex, which now rather offends the eye, will 
 lead well up to the exceeding and increasing brightness, 
 culminating at the top in the figure of the Saviour. 
 
 The bell-tower adjoins the Cathedral at the North- 
 West angle. It was begun in the year 1180, but was 
 not finished till 1276, when it was completed at the 
 private expense of the Archbishop Philip Augustariccio. 
 Structurally, it is entirely separate, and stands at a 
 very different angle. This arrangement is no doubt a 
 skilful device to increase the architectural effect, and 
 the difference of angle is doubtless some tradition of the 
 Greek science in this matter, of which the differing 
 angles in the Propylaea and the Parthenon of Athens 
 offer a sublime example. The tower is, however, as 
 already remarked, bound into the group of the Cathedral 
 buildings by the fact that the under-platform and the 
 narthex run on and rest against it. It consists of five
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 17 
 
 storeys. The first rises to the level of the narthex, and 
 is little more than a basement. The second has a 
 window in each of the outer sides and a marble pillar 
 inserted at each angle, thus carrying on the general 
 design of the narthex. The third storey, which stands 
 clear of the roof of the narthex, has large two-lighted, 
 round-headed windows, almost Moorish in character, on 
 each face. These are now walled up. The fourth 
 storey has four still larger round-headed windows. 
 They have been divided into two portions by a straight 
 architrave, the lower separated into three lights by two 
 marble columns, and the upper containing a round 
 light. These windows are now mostly walled up and 
 partly concealed by the clock. This mutilation is 
 wretched. A special tower adapted and designed for 
 the purpose, ought, of course, to have been erected for 
 the clock whenever it became convenient to provide the . 
 Cathedral with this appendage, and the walling up of 
 the arches is a silly obstruction to the sound of the 
 great bell, popularly called La Distesa on account of the 
 distance at which her voice could be heard. La Distesa 
 was presented along with completion of the tower, by 
 Archbishop Augustariccio, and has twice since been 
 recast, once by order of Archbishop Del Giudice about 
 the year 1364, and again by Archbishop Rossini in 
 151)7. The uppermost storey of the tower consists of 
 five round turrets, a larger in the centre, with four 
 smaller at the four angles, in much the same way as 
 that in which are arranged the five turrets or spires 
 upon the top of the tower of the Town Hall at Tain, in 
 Ross-shire. These turrets are encased in interlaced 
 pointed arches, and have a very Norman appearance. 
 They and their roofs are now decorated in shining green 
 and yellow tiles. The bell -tower has received a good 
 
 B
 
 18 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 deal of rococo tinkering and decoration, and no kind of 
 restoration, and until something of the sort is bestowed 
 upon it, it is impossible to form anything like a fair 
 judgment upon it. 
 
 On entering the narthex the traveller finds it divided 
 into two aisles, parallel to the front of the Church, by a 
 row of seven granite pillars, with white marble capitals, 
 all quite new, and carved in a debased manner with 
 foliage, dolphins, and the arms of the town, a bend.* 
 Directly in front are the great doors, enclosed in a 
 marble doorway, and on either side the smaller marble 
 doorways leading into the aisles. The great doors 
 themselves are of bronze, and were made at Constanti- 
 nople by Simeon of Syria, at the order and expense of 
 Pantaleon, ' son of Maurus, son of Pantaleon, son of 
 Maurus, son of Count Mauro/ in the middle of the 
 Eleventh Century. They were the first work of the 
 kind imported into Italy. They are not very elaborate 
 in design. The central panels have figures inlaid in 
 silver, but a good deal of the silver has been stolen. 
 
 Considerably to the North of the door of the North 
 aisle is the graceful Renaissance doorway which leads 
 into the older Cathedral. Passing this, and passing 
 through the space which separates the bell-tower from 
 the angle of the building, and turning sharp to the 
 right, up a sort of open court, the stranger finds him- 
 self, after traversing about fifty feet, in the region of a 
 small cloister, surrounded by the usuul interlacing 
 
 * The tinctures are not shown in the carving, unless the lines upon the 
 bend are intended to indicate gules, which is the colour assigned to it by 
 Signer Camera in his Istoria della Citta e Costiera di Amalfi. p. 30. Upon 
 the frontispiece of that work the field is indicated as azure. This imposi- 
 tion of colour upon colour is of course an outrage upon our accepted laws 
 of blazonry, but those of Italian heraldry may be different.
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 19 
 
 pointed arches supported upon twin shafts of white 
 marble. In spring and summer this cloister derives a 
 certain grace, not only from the remains of its antique 
 architecture, but also from the beautiful foliage of the 
 vines which grow on the rich and raised soil within it. 
 Speaking generallv, however, it has become the victim 
 of neglect, alteration, and the all-pervading white- wash, 
 though fortunately not apparently to such an extent as 
 to make it incapable of a future restoration, at any rate 
 in its general form. This cloister is the cemetery called 
 the Paradiso, prepared by Archbishop Augustariccio 
 for the burial of distinguished citizens of the Amalfitan 
 Republic. The cemetery was built in two years, 
 126G-8, and the first person laid in it was the Arch- 
 bishop's own brother, the Judge John Augustariccio, 
 who was a Doctor of Medicine as well as of both Canon 
 and Civil Law, and who died on Jan. 29, 1282. The 
 terrible neglect and ill-usage to which this cemetery 
 has been subjected have concealed or destroyed nearly 
 every trace of the five chapels which once surrounded 
 it "" and the monuments of great citizens which adorned 
 it and them. The visitor is confronted at one spot by 
 a sort of shrine or altar, the front of which is formed of 
 the two sides of a marble sarcophagus split in two. 
 These bear busts of the Twelve Apostles, but they also 
 bear the arms of the Augustariccio family, and it has 
 been conjectured that they may be the sides of the 
 coffin which once contained the remains of the eminent 
 lawyer and physician. 
 
 Returning to the front of the old Cathedral that of 
 
 * Two were dedicated in honour of our Lord's titles of ' Saviour ' and 
 ' Crucified,' and the three others respectively to St. Andrew the Apostle, 
 St. Theodore the Martyr, and St. Mary Magdalen.
 
 20 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 the Assumption and entering by its graceful Re- 
 naissance marble doorway, the visitor finds himself in a 
 sort of mean vestibule of painted deal. This is the 
 substructure of a corresponding West-end gallery, 
 which supports a wretched little organ. This barrier 
 past, we are in what of the old Church has been left to 
 us by the ravages of Archbishop Bologna. The general 
 effect of the whole interior is one of dirt, dinginess, and 
 whitewash. The old Church now forms a single cham- 
 ber, with an apse at the end, and a rounded ceiling. It 
 has a pavement of worn encaustic tiles, but is otherwise 
 a mere mass of plaster arranged in graceless forms, 
 under which its original features are entirely hidden, 
 and which is itself concealed under one uniform coat of 
 whitewash. The entire length, from the door to the 
 back of the apse, seerns to be about 130 ft. On the 
 chord of the apse is the Altar, a sufficiently handsome 
 marble structure, with a really good reredos, brought 
 hither from a suppressed convent, and containing pic- 
 tures in panels. It is perhaps from two to three 
 hundred years old. Before the Altar is the chancel, 
 raised to the height of several feet, and separated from 
 the rest of the Church by a really very handsome 
 balustrade of carved and polished coloured marbles. It 
 is furnished with valueless deal stalls, but in the walls 
 above them on either side are cupboards for reliques, 
 closed by very good Jacobean wooden shutters, painted 
 white, picked out with gilding and with pictures in the 
 panels. 
 
 The sides of this Church, from the balustrade to the 
 West end, are divided into seven spaces, which, at least 
 for the sake of convenience, may be called bays, 
 especially as they answer to some of a corresponding 
 number of similar spaces in the larger Church, to which
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OP ST. ANDREW. 21 
 
 the term more correctly applies. The extreme Western 
 of these, on either side, are plain, and the next two are 
 occupied by doors, that to the South leading towards 
 the great Church, and that to the North into an apart- 
 ment which will be spoken of presently. The next two 
 are again plain, but in the Southern is hung a good 
 Mediaeval panel picture, with a gold ground, but sadly 
 calling for restoration. The fourth or central bays each 
 contain in a square recess, defended by an inlaid marble 
 balustrade, an inlaid marble Altar, in the usual style 
 of the last century. That on the South has behind it a 
 good Renaissance picture. The next bay on the North 
 is blank : that on the South is glazed with plate-glass, 
 behind which and over an additional Altar obtruded 
 into the Church, can be seen a couple of tasteless coloured 
 statues, one of the Dead Body of Our Lord, nearly 
 naked, and stretched on an offensively glaring gilded 
 bier, the other of the Blessed Virgin, in which the 
 theatrically agonized features and attitude form a 
 ghastly and tasteless contrast with the meretricious 
 richness of the black and gold embroideries in which 
 she is made to appear as having studiously arrayed her- 
 self. These figures are publicly carried through the 
 town of Amalfi on Good Friday evening. To the East 
 of this come again two doorways : that on the North 
 leads, or ought to lead, into the Paradiso ; that on the 
 South leads into the newer Church. The last two bays 
 are each occupied by a square recess, railed in with in- 
 laid marble and containing a rococo Altar of the same 
 material. The Southern has no feature of interest, but 
 behind the Northern, in a niche closed by a sheet of 
 plate-glass, is a curious Mediaeval wooden statue of the 
 Blessed Virgin perhaps Fourteenth Century nearly 
 if not quite life size. It has once been entirely gilded,
 
 22 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 picked out with colours, but time has now caused the 
 whole to assume exactly the appearance of bronze. 
 
 The most interesting portion of this older Church is 
 what lies behind the door opening in the second bay on 
 the North side. If the traveller can induce the sacristan 
 to open this door for him, he will find himself in a 
 curious chaos of dust and ruins, occupying the space of 
 three bays, where it is stopped by the wall of the 
 Paradiso. In the midst of the Northern wall is a 
 beautiful small square window of perforated white 
 marble opening into the way which leads to the Para- 
 diso. The state of destruction, darkness, dust, and 
 confusion, is such that nothing but a careful study 
 could reveal the form of the real remains. There are 
 columns (at least one, double), of polished marble with 
 classical capitals, and walls displaying the remains of 
 ancient frescoes, where the aureolse round the heads of 
 saints stand out embossed upon the plaster. Brutally 
 forced between the polished surfaces and gracious car- 
 vings of the marble pillars stand the beastly construc- 
 tions of Archbishop Bologna. It is evident that this 
 little nook is what remains of a North aisle to the older 
 Church, into which it once opened by a free and grace- 
 ful colonnade, and thus caused the whole building to 
 present in the Middle Ages the splendid cross-perspective 
 of two naves and four aisles, comprising five arcades of 
 columns, of which at least three seem to have been 
 double. 
 
 The next part of the Cathedral is that in which the 
 devastation wrought by Archbishop Bologna is most 
 undisguised. This is the space which separates the 
 older from the newer Church. It formerly consisted of 
 a series of private chapels belonging to great families of 
 the Republic of Amalfi, and was filled with historical
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 23 
 
 monuments. The two such chapels which are still 
 extant, although in ruins, on the North side of the 
 Basilica of St. Eustace, at Pontone, are placed one East 
 of the other, and each consists of a single square vault 
 and an apse. In the absence of proper investigations 
 it is impossible to speak with certainty as to the plan 
 of those at Amalfi. The conjecture is here hazarded 
 that there were three, or perhaps four, such chapels, 
 each consisting of at least one vault, and then perhaps 
 an apse. The Westernmost may have been the Bap- 
 tistry. In the case of the vaults, at least, the arches 
 were open on each side, allowing access between the 
 two Churches. But the shapeless masses of Bologna's 
 walls are said to enclose rows of marble columns, and it 
 must be repeated that it is vain to plunge into con- 
 jecture without more light. The whole is now a singular 
 mass of chaotic, dark, dusty, lumber-rooms, traversed 
 by two passages. The first of these connects the second 
 bays (counting from the West) of the older and newer 
 Churches. At the Southern end of this passage the 
 end, that is, opening into the newer Church may be 
 seen in the wall above the doorway the distinct form of 
 a pointed arch. In the sides of this passage may be 
 also seen three marble sarcophagi. That to the South 
 is Christian seemingly Thirteenth Century. Those to 
 the North are Pagan, good works of a late period. The 
 subjects are stated to be the Marriage of Peleus and 
 Thetis, and the Carrying-away of Kore. They are said 
 to have been brought from Psesturn, but there is such a 
 habit in the Amalfitan part of the world of referring all 
 classical works of art to Psestum, just as there is of re- 
 ferring all Mediaeval buildings to Queen Joanna or the 
 Saracens, that such assertions must be received with 
 great suspicion. They are, in any case, like those of a
 
 24 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 similar kind, happily less disturbed, at the Cathedral of 
 Salerno, classical Pagan sarcophagi which have been 
 applied in the Middle Ages to the burial of distinguished 
 Christians. 
 
 The second, or Easternmost passage, which lies just 
 East of a space divided into almost equal parts between 
 the square back of a side-altar in the newer Church 
 and the receptacle of the Good Friday images, has two 
 Thirteenth Century marble sarcophagi, one on each 
 side. To the East of it is a dusty lumber-room, mainly 
 used as a cellar for Altar-wine, although the greater part 
 of the whole space is occupied by the back of the square 
 enclosure of another side-altar. On the North side of 
 the East wall, however, are to be seen the remains of a 
 Mediaeval fresco. In the centre of this wall is a win- 
 dow, a false light on to the North stair leading down 
 into the crypt which contains the grave of the Apostle, 
 and which will be described hereafter. 
 
 The traveller now enters the newer Cathedral that 
 of the Tenth and Thirteenth Centuries which is the 
 most important portion of the whole group, and the 
 crypt of which contains the shrine. It is of the regular 
 form which is found in other corresponding Churches of 
 the same period and neighbourhood, viz., a nave with 
 an aisle upon each side, with a lantern and transepts, 
 beyond which there originally were, not a chancel and 
 chapels, but merely three apses, centring with the nave 
 and aisles respectively. The general plan, therefore, is 
 not that of a + but of a T. Although the word 
 ' lantern ' has been used above, there is no rise of roof 
 at the point to which that term is usually applied : the 
 cieling of the chancel runs straight across a very ugly 
 feature which is found in other instances, such as the 
 Cathedral and the Church of St. Antonino at Sorrento.
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 25 
 
 The complete length from the great West door to the 
 back of the apse must be about 190 feet.* Of this the 
 portion Westward of the transepts is divided by piers 
 into 10 bays of about 15 ft. each. The nave has a 
 breadth of about 35 feet,t and the aisles each of about 
 20 feet. The pavement which, West of the transepts, 
 is entirely of marble, in grey and white checquers, 
 broken here and there by an occasional tomb-stone in 
 inlaid coloured and carved marbles, let into the floor, 
 slopes rather steeply upwards from West to East, thus 
 producing a sham perspective : but the writer was in- 
 formed that there is no corresponding depression of the 
 roof or contraction of the sides, as in the typical 
 instance at Poitiers, to complete the effect of this rather 
 base trick. From the roof are hung numerous antique 
 Venice chandeliers in plain glass, while here and there, 
 suspended high in the air above the grave of an Arch- 
 bishop, appear the dusty and decaying remains of his 
 broad-brimmed green hat and its tassels. 
 
 The great Church excites, more than any other part 
 of the group of buildings to which it belongs, the com- 
 bined feelings of regret for the past, and of indignation 
 at the conduct of Archbishop Bologna, by which these 
 precious works of art and the still more precious monu- 
 ments of the history of the Amalfitan Republic, and of 
 her noblest citizens, have been covered up or destroyed. 
 The reason why these feelings are here most strongly 
 aroused is probably that the whole which Bologna 
 destroyed must here have been most imposing. At the 
 present day the whole internal surface is hidden by 
 
 * This is a rough guess, from the fact that eight bays of the nave took 
 forty-two paces of the writer. He is obliged to give all the other measure- 
 ments in the same way. 
 
 t Twelve paces of the writer.
 
 -26 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 plaster arranged in tasteless forms, and covered with an 
 uniform coat of white-wash, with the exception of the 
 painted and gilded cieling, the sides of the pilasters 
 towards the nave, and the apse. The cieling is very 
 handsome of its kind, large deep panels filled with 
 paintings in the rococo sacred-heroic style, although 
 there is on the woodwork a great deal too much of a 
 crude and glaring green, heightened by the gilding, but 
 which may not perhaps be of the time of Bologna him- 
 self. The carving of the cieling or rather, of the two 
 cielings, of the nave and transepts is by Francis Gori, 
 of Sienna, the four paintings of the Martyrdom and 
 Miraculous Help * of the Apostle Andrew, by Andrew 
 d'Asti, of Bagnoli, and the two in the transepts repre- 
 senting the Fishing of the sons of Jonas and cf Zebedee 
 in the Sea of Galilee, by Joseph Castellano, of Naples. 
 Not far below the cieling, across the West end of the 
 nave, run the row of seven small lancet windows appa- 
 rent in the faade also. At the East end it is closed by 
 a flattish rounded arch resting upon two beautiful 
 monoliths of Egyptian granite, which will be again 
 mentioned presently. The piers which now separate 
 the nave from the aisles are not square but oblong, not 
 from East to West, but from North to South. The 
 reason of this is said to be that each of them encloses 
 two monolithic columns of polished marble, with carved 
 capitals, and that these displeased the taste of Arch- 
 bishop Bologna, who preferred rectangular piers, and 
 accordingly so enveloped them. This would be almost 
 incredible were it not that similar cases are or have been 
 
 * The occasion commemorated is the dispersal by a storm on June 27, 
 1544, of a Mohammedan fleet which was threatening the city. An annual 
 thanksgiving for this deliverance, which was ascribed to the prayers of the 
 Apostle, is still held in Amalfi.
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 27 
 
 found in South Italy, as, for instance, in the Cathedral 
 of Bari or the Church of St. Antonino at Sorrento. 
 There seems in fact to have been at one time in the 
 Kingdom of Naples a kind of insane epidemic passion 
 for stucco and whitewash. The piers are whitewashed 
 on the two sides and on the back towards the aisles, but 
 the front towards the nave consists of a great pilaster 
 with a gilded capital, veneered throughout with marble 
 mosaic like the matter of a Florentine table, and each 
 pilaster adorned with a beautiful medallion in carved 
 white marble. The colours are dingy and the design 
 bad, but the extraordinary preciousness of the material 
 and the excellence of the handiwork give an effect of 
 splendour which is imposing in its own way, and forms 
 a singular contrast, in union with the floors, the balus- 
 trades, the altars, the reredos, and the cieling, to the 
 wilderness of whitewash around. 
 
 The form of the piers is, as already said, an oblong 
 parallelogram. There is a pilaster on each side. 
 Those on the side towards the nave are veneered with 
 inlaid work of precious marbles, and support gilded 
 Corinthian capitals, above which runs a very ugly, 
 broad, and heavy straight cornice. Above this cornice 
 again is a wilderness of stucco, divided into graceless 
 rococo panels and simply whitewashed, and above this 
 again a cornice containing a row of oblong lights some- 
 what in the position of a clerestory, which admit air and 
 throw a somewhat strong light upon the cieling, which 
 is just above them. The side pilasters of the piers are 
 much lower, and are united to each other by a series of 
 round-headed arches in plaster, which run along well 
 below the straight cornice supported by the gilded 
 capital. The Cavaliere Alvino pulled down one of 
 these round arches, that, viz., in the Westernmost bay
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 on the North side, just opposite the Baptistery. He is 
 said to have found a painted arch executed in brick, 
 and hence it is conjectured that there is a similar arcade 
 on both sides, resting upon the antient marble columns. 
 But he died. No drawings were taken. The round 
 plaster arch has been renewed ; and it is therefore im- 
 possible to tell even the height of the concealed pillars. 
 The pilasters on the fourth side of the piers, towards 
 the aisles, are high, and on them rest the series of 
 groined vaults which form the roof of the aisles on each 
 side, each groining corresponding exactly to one of the 
 bays. The two aisles are exceedingly similar. Each 
 has a door at the West end. Each consists of nine 
 bays, ending Eastward by three marble steps rising 
 towards the transept, behind the tenth bay of the nave, 
 which has been blocked, and which will be mentioned 
 presently. Each aisle has a breadth of something over 
 twenty feet.* The lower part of the side of each to- 
 wards the nave is, of course, composed of the series of 
 pilasters and round-headed arches. The lower part on 
 the outer side consists of nine divisions, of which five 
 are occupied by recessed chapels, and the others by 
 arches, some of which contain doorways. On the upper 
 part appears on each side of each aisle a series of ugly 
 panels in plaster, like blank windows. This gives the 
 idea that above the arcade there must originally have 
 been a triforium (or at least triforium arches, if without 
 a passage), pierced completely through, that is, opening 
 into the nave on one side, and into the aisle on the 
 other, as is the case, for instance, in the corresponding- 
 example of the Cathedral at Bari, where also these 
 features have been concealed under plaster and white- 
 
 * Seven paces of the writer.
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW, 29 
 
 wash ; and that the outer wall must have consisted (as, 
 for instance, in the Chapel Royal of Palermo or the 
 Minster of Monreale) of a lower portion of marble panel- 
 ling or open arches (this last at Amalfi, at least on the 
 North, to lead into the family chapels and older Church), 
 and above this, of a series of windows. The effect must 
 have been remarkably light and graceful. The great 
 consolation under present circumstances is the belief 
 that most, if not all, of it remains hidden under the 
 plaster arid whitewash, and is awaiting a restoration in 
 the future. The hideous oblong windows which now 
 light the ceiling do not deserve the name of a clerestory. 
 It has, however, been already mentioned that there 
 appears to have been originally a clerestory properly so 
 called, which was only pulled down in 1691, arid that 
 to rebuild it seems to have been part of the scheme of 
 Signer Alvino, as his faade is a great deal higher than 
 the present roof, and, where it returns, shows the be- 
 ginning of a set of lancet windows. 
 
 The lower part of the present outer walls of the aisles 
 is in no particular way remarkable. The first, third, 
 fifth, seventh, and ninth bay on each side is occupied 
 by a chapel in a square recess. With one exception 
 these all have balustrades and Altars of inlaid coloured 
 marbles, which would be esteemed very rich and pre- 
 cious in almost any country but Italy, where such 
 features are common. They have reredoses containing 
 pictures, in the usual style, and are adorned with a few 
 inoffensive funeral tablets and monuments. The ex- 
 ception is the Baptistry, which is the extreme North- 
 West chapel. It has no Altar. The font, which stands 
 on steps in the middle, is an extraordinarily splendid 
 colossal vase of red porphyry. It is obviously of the 
 classical epoch, but whether it really came from
 
 30 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 Psestum or was found somewhere at Amalfi or else- 
 where, seems uncertain. There is a credence-table 
 against the West wall, supported upon a very fine con- 
 ventional eagle cut out of a single block of white 
 marble. This eagle has every appearance of having 
 supported the book-desk of an ancient ambon. The 
 second and sixth bays on this (North) side are the 
 passages leading into the older Church. The first of 
 them, as already remarked, still shows on the inner 
 side the form of a Gothic arch. The eighth bay opens 
 into the white marble stair which goes down into the 
 crypt. It descends five steps to the North and then 
 reaches a landing giving a false light into the dreary 
 hole of dust and dirt which now forms the end of the 
 South aisle of the older Church. From this landing a 
 flight of fifteen steps goes down Eastward at a right 
 angle, to another landing (lighted by a large window 
 to the East) whence seven more steps at a right angle 
 descend Southward to the final landing, from which the 
 floor of the crypt is reached by an Eastward flight of 
 six steps more. The floor of the crypt is thus reached 
 by thirty-three steep steps from that of the Church 
 above say, about twenty feet and the stair is made 
 to describe a curious sort of circuit outside the main 
 wall of the building. It is pretty evident that this 
 ungainly outside circuit has been invented in order to 
 afford room for the recess of the side-chapel in the ninth 
 bay of the outer side of the North aisle, and is a modern 
 arrangement by Archbishop Bologna, the original stairs 
 having evidently descended straight, as in Glasgow, 
 Sorrento, or Pontone. As it stands, the diversion of 
 the stairs would be exceedingly awkward in case of 
 large crowds descending and ascending to and from the 
 shrine, and it has, in fact, been found desirable to limit
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 31 
 
 the use of this Northern staircase on such occasions to 
 women, while the corresponding descent on the South 
 is reserved to men. The steps and landings of this 
 stair are entirely composed of marble. It is commonly 
 believed that these slabs are the remains of historical 
 monuments of the most eminent citizens of the Republic, 
 thus adapted by Archbishop Bologna. Surely it may 
 be hoped that, much as he has already to answer for, 
 this charge at least is not true. 
 
 The South aisle, .like the Northern, has recessed 
 chapels opening from the first, third, fifth, seventh, and 
 ninth bays, and an additional altar erected against the 
 arch which occupies the fourth. Against the second is 
 a large crucifix. The sixth space contains the door 
 leading into the sacristy, a suite of spacious rooms 
 furnished with wooden presses for the vestments, etc. 
 Among the latter is a chasuble which has attached to 
 it two indifferent pieces of Mediaeval embroidery : it 
 differs from the usual Italian vestment in having a 
 cross, instead of a stripe or pillar, on the back. There 
 are also several other later vestments of moderate 
 historical and artistic interest, bearing the arms of 
 Archbishops, etc. There is one rather handsome 
 Mediaeval silver-gilt chalice (XlVth Century?) adorned 
 with enamels and precious stones. There is a very 
 large bust of St. Andrew made of silver, at least life- 
 size, which is brought out on great occasions, and two 
 very splendid silver frontals for the High Altar. The 
 plate is all in a state which no English servant who had 
 any idea of keeping his place (or getting another) would 
 contemplate as within the sphere of possibility. 
 
 The eighth space on the Southern side, as on the 
 Northern, is occupied by a white marble staircase 
 descending to the crypt. It is exactly the same in plan
 
 32 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW, 
 
 as the Northern one, and, as already mentioned, is that 
 assigned to the use of men on occasions of much crowd- 
 ing. It is, however, lighted by windows not on the 
 East but on the South (where there is also an external 
 door upon the second landing) and the visitor finds the 
 East wall in front of him occupied by several interesting 
 marbles. One of these is a piece of very elegant 
 Renaissance decoration arabesques and conventional 
 foliage in low relief. It is certainly extremely beauti- 
 ful, but it may be doubted whether it merits the ex- 
 cessive admiration with which it seems to be regarded 
 by everybody at Amalfi. The other is the side of a 
 marble cist, upon which appears, in rather rude Xlllth 
 Century characters, the inscription : 
 
 + CORP S AND AP 
 
 This is peculiarly interesting, as this is the very marble 
 box in which the skull and some other parts of the body 
 of the Apostle were found in 1603. It is a singular 
 mark of bad taste that it should simply be found built 
 in here. It ought to have been carefully preserved, 
 either at the shrine or in the sacristy, if indeed it would 
 not have been still better to have interred it bodily 
 under the Altar of the crypt, without disturbing its 
 contents, along with the rest of the remains of the 
 Galilean fisherman. 
 
 Before proceeding to describe the crypt and shrine 
 underneath which lies the tomb, it is as well to finish 
 the description of the upper Church by speaking of the 
 chancel and transepts. All this part has been pushed 
 forward, as regards its lower plan, although not its 
 arches and roof, one bay into the nave, so that the 
 latter, with its aisles, now consists practically, as far as 
 the ground plan goes, not of ten but of nine bays. The 
 floor of this portion seems also to have been raised. At
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 33 
 
 the ninth pier of the arcade there is an uniform rise of 
 three steps all across. The decorated cieling is, how- 
 ever, confined to its proper place. It is, as already re- 
 marked, part of Archbishop Bologna's work, and 
 extremely handsome of its kind. As, however, it is 
 just on the same level as the nave cieling, and runs 
 
 straight across without anv difference at the lantern or 
 
 it 
 
 intersection, the effect is very bad, as in other Churches 
 possessing the same fault, e.g., that of St. Antonino and 
 the Cathedral at Sorrento. The end of each transept 
 is now occupied by an altar and reredos in inlaid mar- 
 bles, presenting no remarkable feature, and over each of 
 these is a shapeless modern window. From the outside, 
 however, it is possible to perceive that the Southern 
 transept (and therefore doubtless also the Northern) had 
 originally a row of seven rather low lancet windows, 
 which are now walled up. The scheme of the Cavaliere 
 Alvino for raising a clerestory above the triforium of the 
 nave would almost have necessitated a similar raising of 
 the transepts, and it may be conjectured that he would 
 have restored the seven lancets and placed a rose or 
 other window above them. It may also be supposed 
 that he would have wished to introduce a true lantern 
 with lofty windows above the intersection, a feature 
 which would almost immeasurably improve the effect of 
 the interior, and, if crowned by an external spire, of 
 the exterior also. 
 
 The Northernmost part of the flight of three steps 
 leading from the level of the North aisle towards the 
 transept is wanting as regards the front of the steps, 
 and through these openings it is possible to look down 
 into the crypt. This is almost a proof that the stairs 
 originally descended as at Glasgow, Sorrento (St. 
 Antonino) and Pontone, inside the external walls of the 
 
 c
 
 34 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREAV. 
 
 Church. Probably, as at Sorrento, they occupied about 
 half or two-thirds the breadth of the aisle, leaving the 
 other inner half or two-thirds as a sort of bridge, (per- 
 haps rising a step at the arch, but more probably not), 
 by which to pass from the aisle into the transept. The 
 stair must have started at about the same point as at 
 present, or possibly a little farther Westward (say, one 
 bay, or half a bay), and there must have been balus- 
 trades, doubtless of marble, to protect it. 
 
 The outer wall of the last bay of the South aisle, 
 that is to say, that which is now East of the three steps 
 rising towards the chancel, contains the only sepulchral 
 monument of the old Church which was spared by Arch- 
 bishop Bologna. It is that of the Archbishop Andrew 
 de Cuncto, who died December 27, 1503. Its compara- 
 tive good fortune is said to be owing to the fact that 
 the family of the deceased was still an important one 
 at Amalfi and protested vehemently against its proposed 
 destruction. It has, however, been a good deal knocked 
 about and altered, it must have been moved from 
 another place, and the position of its component parts 
 has been changed. It is all in white marble, and good 
 Renaissance work. It originally consisted of a recessed 
 altar-tomb, in which the effigy of the dead prelate lay 
 upon the top of the sarcophagus containing his remains, 
 while behind him, on the back wall, appeared a group 
 of sacred figures. Under the middle of the sarcophagus 
 is now placed a sort of white marble table or shelf sup- 
 ported upon an imaginary animal, which has every ap- 
 pearance of not having formed any part of the original 
 work. Above the sarcophagus is the statue, but not 
 now upon its back but its side, in complete defiance of 
 the action of the law of gravitation upon the folds of 
 drapery. It represents the Archbishop in full canonicals.
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 35 
 
 Above this again is the relief which originally occupied 
 the back of the niche. There are three half-lengths in 
 it. That towards the feet represents a saint holding a 
 book. At the head is St. Andrew, presenting the Arch- 
 bishop a small kneeling figure in Pontifical vestments, 
 with hands closed and raised in prayer to the Infant 
 Saviour, Whom the Blessed Virgin, placed in the 
 middle, holds to her right. The figure of Christ, unlike 
 the others, is on the same scale as that of the deceased. 
 It is well done but is too realistic. No attempt has 
 been made to idealize the infancy of the Saviour. It is 
 merely a clever study of the nude, the exact representa- 
 tion of any of the dirty little naked urchins of from one 
 to two years of age, who may be seen on the seashore 
 at Amalfi any summer's day. 
 
 The Eastern wall of each transept originally had an 
 apse or recess, centring with the aisle in the same way 
 as in other Churches on the same plan, such as those at 
 Salerno, Ravello, Pontone, and elsewhere. Above each, 
 as may still be seen from the outside, was a line of 
 seven small lancet windows. It would appear that 
 these features were not regular apses, as at Salerno, but 
 rather were niches, as at Pontone, partly because the 
 seven windows above show them to have been low and 
 consequently small, and partly because the crypt shows 
 no trace of them as it does of the great central apse. 
 Such as they may have been, they have now entirely 
 disappeared, and their places are taken by two large 
 ugly plaster and whitewash rococo arches, opening into 
 very large chapels beyond. That in the North transept 
 is the one in which the Blessed Sacrament is regularly 
 reserved, for which reason some persons kneeling in 
 prayer will nearly always be found in the transept and 
 aisle before it. It is closed by large iron gates, partly
 
 36 THE LAST BESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 draped in red stuff curtains. The present writer never 
 entered it, and it seems to contain nothing remarkable. 
 The South chapel, called that of the Crucified Saviour, 
 is a choir chapel, used by the Canons and the rest of 
 the Cathedral staff when, according to a very corrupt 
 and objectionable practice occasionally found in Italy, 
 they do not use the main chancel of the Cathedral for 
 the daily service. (In condemning them, however, we 
 may as well remember the similar occasional use of 
 Henry VII.'s chapel in Westminster Abbey.) This 
 choir chapel is white-washed, as usual, and is furnished 
 with an entirely worthless and uninteresting set of deal 
 stalls. Behind the Altar is a very curious cupboard 
 filled with reliques, mostly in Mediaeval busts, made of 
 gilded wood. Among these reliques are the remains of 
 the martyrs Cosmas, Damian and Vitus, and of the 
 anchorite Macarius, which were removed by Archbishop 
 Bologna from their original resting-place under the 
 High Altar of the Cathedral, and some portions of the 
 bodies of the martyrs Diomede, George, Maximus, 
 Bassus, Fabius, Pantaleon, Fortunatus, Peter of Alex- 
 andria, and others, including all those formerly kept at 
 the convent of the Cappuccini, which has now been 
 turned into an hotel. The Altar itself is composed of 
 beautiful pieces of early inlaid work in precious marbles 
 and mosaics, and at either side there is a very valuable 
 piece, on a gold mosaic ground, with figures of birds. 
 The Northern of these two pieces has, however, suffered 
 a good deal. It is evident that, like other fragments 
 of similar work contained in this Church, the antient 
 work found at this Altar consists of mere dislocated 
 scraps. 
 
 It has been already remarked that the chancel of the 
 Cathedral has been pushed forward an whole bay into
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 37 
 
 the nave. It thus occupies the great central apse, the 
 intersection of the transepts which would properly come 
 underneath a lantern, and one bay of the nave. This 
 heterogenous space is separated from the nave as thus 
 abridged by a rise of several steps and a balustrade fixed 
 between the piers on either side. Just outside, and 
 against the South pier, is the pulpit, a miserable little 
 construction in painted and gilded wood. 
 
 The steps and balustrade are of marble, the latter 
 being of coloured marbles and very richly carved and 
 inlaid. The middle portion (which opens with metal 
 gates) is rococo, but the ends next the piers are com- 
 posed of beautiful fragments of antient inlay and mosaic. 
 The North side has a curious white marble knob carved 
 into a grotesque. The whole of the pavement within, 
 up to the Altar, is a beautiful inlaid work of precious 
 coloured marbles in the rococo style, having the arms of 
 Archbishop Bologna, on a large scale, as the central 
 feature. Immediately within the balustrade, the arch 
 of the bay cribbed from the nave is closed in by a screen 
 on either side. Against that on the North, is the throne 
 of the Archbishop. It is of the simple Mediaeval form 
 universal in Italy, entirely of stuff, decorated with his 
 arms, and is only interesting on account of the precious 
 fragments of antient inlaid marbles and mosaic of which 
 the steps, etc., in part consist. The South side is occu- 
 pied by the organ, in a carved and gilded wooden organ- 
 gallery. The instrument is large, and better than is 
 usual in Italy. 
 
 Just beyond this bay comes the architectural chancel 
 arch. This is fixed between the two main piers of the 
 building, and is supported upon two really magnificent 
 polished monoliths of Egyptian granite. It is now a 
 flattened rococo arch in plaster. The granite columns
 
 38 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 are, of course, old. They are said to be much larger 
 than they appear to be. Their grandeur was inconsis- 
 tent with Archbishop Bologna's designs. The upper 
 parts are said, therefore, to be concealed in his plaster, 
 and the gilded plaster Corinthian capitals, to be merely 
 rings by which they are encircled. Eastward of the 
 two great piers, and occupying the breadth of the tran- 
 septs, are the ordinary stalls for the Canons and choir. 
 They are wooden, almost mean, and quite uninteresting. 
 Immediately within the chancel arch, however, are two 
 very remarkable and beautiful twisted white marble 
 Byzantine columns, inlaid with gold and coloured glass 
 mosaic, now supporting branches for lights. They are 
 not above the suspicion of having been tampered with, 
 and it is said that they are two survivors from the four 
 columns of a baldaquin. At the same time, it must be 
 acknowledged that there is a great fancy in Italy for a 
 couple of standards for seven-lights before the altar 
 (they are sometimes, as at Milan, of silver) and that the 
 custom of having them in the form of columns of this 
 sort is that of this part of the country, while it is not 
 easy, taking the very worst view of Archbishop 
 Bologna, to account for the preservation of this pair if 
 he ruthlessly and entirely destroyed the two others. 
 The High Altar is thrown back into the apse, which it 
 fills up. It ought, of course, to occupy such a position 
 as to be immediately over the grave of the Apostle 
 below, as is the case in the corresponding instances of 
 St. Peter's at Rome and elsewhere, according to that 
 which is written in Rev. vi. 9. This was indeed its 
 original position, but, with singular thoughtlessness, 
 Bologna moved it back in order to obtain more room, 
 and, as he no doubt thought (not considering the per- 
 spective of the apse) more effect, and hence it comes
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 39 
 
 that it is not the altar but the officiants who stand 
 above the remains of the Galilean fisherman. It is 
 curious to remark that the same thoughtless blunder 
 seems to have been made at Glasgow in the Middle 
 Ages, by removing the High Altar backwards from the 
 position immediately above the shrine of Kentigern. 
 The wall space on each side of the apse is occupied by 
 a sham ambon of very feeble type, but probably working 
 up old materials ; that to the North supports the in- 
 significant and modern Paschal candlestick. Nearer the 
 Altar than these are a pair of white marble credence- 
 tables, supported upon the heads of as many small 
 mediaeval statues (XlVth Century ?) of the same 
 material. The Southern of these is represented holding 
 a torch of the twisted-wax-taper type, and is said to 
 represent Faith ; the Northern has something like a bag 
 or bottle, and is called Charity. Hope is supposed to 
 have vanished. They are certainly very like some of 
 the allegorical figures which support some of the royal 
 tombs at Naples or that (e.g.) of Queen Margaret of 
 Anjou (the wife of Charles of Durazzo) at Salerno. They 
 may have belonged to a similar structure. 
 
 The High Altar itself with its steps and reredos is a 
 mass of the most precious marbles, including a quantity 
 of ophite and verde antico plundered from the ruined 
 Abbey of Positano. On raising the carpet which covers 
 the steps, a quantity of Mediaeval wrecks become visible, 
 including a very large piece of round porphyry, and a 
 beautiful carved white marble cornice, which looks as if 
 it might have been the top of the ambon. The reredos 
 is an heavy architectural structure, with a picture 
 (generally veiled) in the middle, flanked by three 
 polished columns on each side, six in all, four of which 
 match, suggesting the idea that they may have been
 
 40 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 the columns of the original Thirteenth Century balda- 
 quin. Notwithstanding the extreme richness of the 
 materials, which would constitute splendour to the eye 
 of a lapidary (on close inspection) the deep colours cause 
 the general effect to be dark. In other words, it is a 
 failure ; and, on festivals, the authorities are fain to try 
 and brighten up its appearance a little by the use of 
 coloured silk frontals. This erection fills up most of the 
 apse. What appears above is plaster work, very fine of 
 its kind, profusely gilded, and adorned with paintings 
 by Silvestro Mirra of Naples. 
 
 From the outside can still be perceived the outline of 
 a pointed window in the middle of the apse. This is the 
 same feature which is to be found in corresponding 
 instances in other places, e.g., in St. Eustace's at Pon- 
 tone, where it is still open; in the Cathedral at Salerno, 
 where it is blocked up ; or in St. Antonino at Sorrento, 
 where it has been turned into a door. This window no 
 doubt came immediately above the antient Episcopal 
 throne at the back of the apse. The throne and its 
 encircling synthronos of seats for the Presbyters, has no 
 doubt been destroyed, but it is unknown how much 
 more of the antient decoration has been destroyed or 
 may only bo hidden under the work of Archbishop 
 Bologna. The seats must have rested against a marble 
 dado, and above this we know that there was a great 
 work in glass mosaic, coloured, upon a gold ground, the 
 lower part of which consisted of busts of SS. Andrew, 
 Cosmas, Damian, Vitus, and Macarius, separated by 
 green palm trees, while above them appeared the colossal 
 bust of the Saviour, in the attitude of blessing, between 
 the monograms 1C and xc. 
 
 It will be seen, from the preceding pages, that the 
 remains of distinctively early and Mediaeval inlaid marble
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 41 
 
 and mosaic work, now apparent, are confined to this 
 Thirteenth Century Church. They are very limited in 
 quantity, and are found only in the Baptistery, the choir 
 chapel, the balustrade of the chancel, the Archiepiscopal 
 throne, the two standards for lights, the sham ambons 
 and the steps of the Altar. There is not enough to 
 tally with the description of the old Church, and the 
 most natural impression would be that they are simply 
 the disjecta membra of a handsome ambon (or possibly 
 of a greater and a less) as at Ravello and Salerno. It 
 is plain that in any future restoration, one of the first 
 steps should be to gather all these fragments together, 
 with a view to a careful study and approximate decision 
 as to the parts of which they once formed portions, and 
 the manner in which they should again be utilized. 
 
 The part of the Cathedral of Amalfi which has in- 
 spired the present article is that which appeals most 
 strongly to the feelings of the Scottish tourist, or, at 
 least, to any Scottish tourist in whom the sense of 
 Nationalism triumphs over the feelings of the antiquary. 
 This is the crypt because underneath it lie most of 
 the earthly remains of St. Andrew. It has already 
 been remarked that its architectural position with re- 
 gard to the rest of the Cathedral resembles that of the 
 crypt at Glasgow, wherein lies the body of Kentigern, 
 with regard to the great fabric above, or the much 
 humbler burying-place of St. Antonino at Sorrento. 
 When, however, it is compared to the magnificent crypt 
 of Glasgow perhaps the finest in the world it must 
 be remembered that the comparison is made only as 
 regards the relative position and arrangement of parts. 
 The small and gloomy vault at Amalfi cannot for a 
 moment be likened to the glorious construction of
 
 42 THE LAST .RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 Glasgow. At the same time, the extreme preciousness 
 of the materials invests it with undeniable splendour. 
 
 The crypt of Amalfi, like that of Glasgow, is designed 
 as a burial vault in which the grave of the Patron Saint 
 shall lie directly below the High Altar of the Church 
 above. As at Glasgow and Sorrento, it is reached by 
 two staircases under the transepts, and which were 
 originally at Amalfi, as now at Glasgow and Sorrento, 
 included within the outer walls of the Church. It is, 
 however, a question, which can only be settled by 
 future excavations, whether these two staircases origin- 
 
 o 
 
 ally entered the vault straight, as they do at Glasgow 
 and now do, after a circuit outside, at Amalfi (and 
 similarly with those leading to the crypt at Salerno), 
 and as they seem to have done at Pontone, or whether, 
 after descending straight to what is now the third 
 landing at Amalfi, they both turned inwards as (at least 
 at present) at Sorrento and deposited the visitor on the 
 level of the crypt in the sort of Westerly apse which is 
 thrown out from it. 
 
 The crypt of Amalfi lies directly under the lantern 
 and transepts of the Church above. It is therefore an 
 oblong vault, lying North and South. It is divided 
 across the middle by four square piers, which, connected 
 by arches with corresponding pilasters in the outer 
 walls, form ten groined vaults in two rows of five each. 
 The whole of the surface of these piers and pilasters 
 and of the walls all around, up to the spring of the 
 groining, is formed of inlaid work of precious marbles, 
 like that of a Florentine table. The floor also is entirely 
 of marbles. The spaces above the line of this splendid 
 walling are painted with sacred subjects. The groining 
 is of the most elaborate and beautiful plaster work, 
 profusely gilded and with the panels filled with pictures.
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 43 
 
 The gilding and painting have suffered a great deal 
 from the damp miasma of the vault during nearly 300 
 years ; the marble, of course, defies damp. Of the five 
 bays on the Eastern side four are occupied by altars of 
 inlaid precious marbles ; the central is a rather shallow 
 apse, coinciding with the main apse of the Church 
 above. Like the rest of the crypt, it is a mass of 
 marbles and gilded and painted stucco work. It is 
 lighted by a large window in the upper part. The two 
 bays at the North end have also large windows, giving 
 light from above, and the same is the case to the South. 
 While, however, the Northern windows are plain, the 
 Southern are filled with beautiful Spanish stained glass, 
 representing the arms of Philips II. and III., by whose 
 munificence the crypt was decorated, the work being 
 finished in 1016. By a curious blunder of the work- 
 men, these heraldic windows have been put in the 
 wrong way, so that the lions of Leon and other con- 
 ventional animals look to the sinister instead of to the 
 dexter. Of the five bays upon the Western side, the 
 two outermost contain the large archways through 
 which access is given to the crypt from the stairs, down 
 a flight of six white marble steps. The tops at least of 
 these archways appear to have been brutally broken 
 through the paintings adorning the upper part of the 
 wall, and this act (which looks like Archbishop 
 Bologna's), is certainly an argument that before and at 
 the time of the Philips, the stairs did not descend 
 straight as at Glasgow, but turned, as at Sorrento, 
 without, however, having the picturesque openings 
 through which, in the example at Sorrento, one looks 
 down from the landings into the crypt of St. Antonino. 
 This hypothesis is farther strengthened by the following 
 circumstance. While the second bay to the North is
 
 44 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 (apparently) plain, that to the South, \vhich bears a 
 large marble tablet with an inscription commemorative 
 of the munificence of the Kings Philip, has also a small 
 door, and on passing this door the visitor finds himself 
 in a dark and dusty space between the Southern stair 
 and the deep apse which opens Westward from the 
 central bay. Directly Westward is a vault, seemingly 
 uncontinued, which has much the appearance of having 
 been a burial-vault, but it is impossible to say what, ns 
 the freaks of Archbishop Bologna at Amalfi were much 
 the same as those of Burn at St. Giles' in Edinburgh. 
 There is, however, a sort of opening on either hand. 
 That towards the Southern stair is closed, with the 
 exception of a window giving false light. That on the 
 North side leads into the apse already mentioned. The 
 position of this apse exactly corresponds to that of a 
 similar recess at Sorrento, into the sides of which the 
 two staircases open, and which itself forms the entrance 
 of the crypt. In the case of Amalfi this apse has been 
 fitted up as a choir with trashy stalls painted white and 
 gold, and contains a little gallery with a wretched little 
 organ. By entering this gallery, it is possible to see 
 that the roof consists of the same beautiful gilded and 
 painted stucco work as that of the rest of the crypt. 
 
 In the very centre of the crypt is the shrine of the 
 Apostle, consisting of a very rich reredos in carved and 
 inlaid coloured marbles, with a marble altar in front, 
 and a sort of altar-like table behind. This reredos rises 
 under the vault of the central bay, almost touching it, 
 and the rich marble balustrade engages the two central 
 piers and projects a little in front, where it has metal 
 gates. The centre of the reredos is occupied by a really 
 magnificent bronze statue of the Apostle, the work of 
 Michelangelo Naccarino of Florence. The right hand of
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 45 
 
 the figure holds a conventional bunch of silver flowers. 
 
 o 
 
 and a fish, hung to a chain, of the same metal. These 
 objects seem to be votive offerings. In niches to the 
 North and South are statues, in white marble and on a 
 smaller scale, of SS. Stephen and Lawrence. 
 
 The altar is of inlaid coloured marbles, and has an 
 open grating of gilt metal in the middle of the front. 
 Kneeling on the step, the visitor is able to peer through 
 this grating. There is then visible a large silver lamp, 
 which burns day and night, and, between it and the 
 front of the altar, a large crown with arches, of gold or 
 silver-gilt. This crown is flanked by four vases of 
 artificial flowers under glass shades. These miserable 
 decorations, and the worthless gilded cast-metal French 
 candlesticks upon the retable of the altar form a start- 
 ling contrast to the solid and striking splendour of 
 everything else around. 
 
 The remains of the Apostle are said to lie at the 
 bottom of a grave or pit, directly underneath the metal 
 crown, enclosed in a coffin of chestnut wood, covered 
 with plates of silver, and this again in a sarcophagus of 
 marble. The entire depth of the grave is stated to be 
 (like that of the other or Western pit in which the 
 second cist was found in 1603) nine palms, or nearly 
 seven feet, and the height of the sarcophagus or cist 
 two palms, or about eighteen inches, so that there is a 
 depth of seven palms, or over five feet, between the top 
 of the grave and the lid of the cist. The grave and 
 coffin are never opened upon any ordinary occasion.* 
 
 * They are sometimes opened upon extraordinary occasions. Some 
 years ago they were opened in order to take out a piece of bone to send to 
 Scotland, and which is now at St. Mary's Chapel, Broughton St., Edin- 
 burgh. The present writer is under the impression that there must be 
 some secret staircase giving access to the vault, the position of which is 
 known only to the authorities.
 
 46 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 From the crown is hung down in the hollow space of 
 the grave a curious instrument. This consists of a 
 moderate-sized clear glass pot or large phial, with a 
 spout. The open mouth is set in silver, whence rise 
 three silver branches, upon the top of which rests an 
 Eucharistic paten, while a metal cup is suspended 
 between the paten and the phial. This instrument is 
 withdrawn at times by the Archbishop, and a certain 
 amount of liquid is then sometimes found in one or other 
 of the three vessels. This liquid is called the manna, 
 or more usually at Amain", the sweat ('sudor*) of the 
 Apostle. By the Amalfitans it is universally regarded 
 as miraculous, and its appearance or absence as an indi- 
 cation whether the Apostle is pleased or angry. None 
 has been found for some time. A small quantity (about 
 a teaspoonful) which was presented to the present 
 writer, closely sealed in a small glass phial, has exactly 
 the appearance of pure water. And he ventures to 
 think with all due respect to all to whom respect is 
 due that the phenomenon and its fluctuating character 
 may be explainable by the condensation of vapours in 
 the changing atmospheric conditions of this dark 
 vault.* 
 
 * The same phenomenon, although far less talked about, is found in con- 
 nection with the so-called grave of the Evangelist Matthew at Salerno, 
 where the natural conditions are very similar. Signor Camera (Istoria, 
 pp. 47-8), says that the liquid was first observed at Amalfi. upon Nov. 24, 
 1304, but the discovery is mentioned in the local Church Kalendar upon 
 Nov. 29, being St. Andrew's Eve. At the same time, it is interesting to 
 observe the following passage in the works (l)e gloria Martyrum, i. 31,) of 
 Gregory, Bishop of Tours, who died in 590. ' The Apostle Andrew makes 
 manifest a great wonder upon the day of his solemn Festival. This is the 
 manna which flows from his grave either in the form of flour or in that of 
 oil of delicious fragrance. Hereby is given an indication of the fruitful- 
 ness of the coming year. If the manna is scanty, the fruits of the earth 
 will be scanty, but if it be abundant, it is a sign that the fields will bring
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 47 
 
 The skull * which was shown to the public of Amalfi 
 
 forth abundantly. They say that in some years oil has run out of the 
 grave to such an extent that the stream has reached to the middle of the- 
 Church. This takes place in the town of Patrai, in the province of Achaia, 
 where this blessed Apostle and Martyr was crucified for the Redeemer's- 
 Name sake, and so ended this present life by a glorious death. When the 
 oil flows, the perfume is as strong as if the place had been sprinkled with a' 
 compound of many spices. This is regarded by the people as a miracle 
 and a mercy, for unctions or drinks made from it often heal the sick. 
 Since the glorious Assumption of this Apostle many mighty works of power 
 are said to have been shown forth, either at his grave or in the divers 
 places where his reliques have been deposited, and of these I have not, 
 thought it out of place to recall a few, since the glory of Martyrs and the 
 power of Saints is the up-building cf the Church.' The present writer has 
 visited the Church of St. Andrew at Patrai, where a graceful white marble 
 cenotaph covers the empty grave above mentioned, from which the body 
 of the Apostle wat removed by Constantine, but he heard nothing of any 
 kind of flow from it. 
 
 * Visitors to Rome will remember that the so-called head of the Apostle 
 Andrew is one of the four great reliques preserved in St. Peter's, the posi- 
 tion of the upstairs chapel in which it is kept being marked by the colossal 
 statue of St. Andrew which stands in front of one of the four great piers 
 supporting the dome. At Amalfi, the local authorities get over the diffi- 
 culty by asserting that the head at St. Peter's (which is practically never 
 shown, since it is only the silver reliquary containing it which is occasion- 
 ally exhibited) consists only of the jaws and the bones of the face below 
 the eyes. It is true that the skull shown at Amalfi consists only of the 
 portion which contained the brain, but, as far as the present writer has 
 been able to ascertain by some correspondence, the relique at St. Peter's 
 seems very probably to include a brain-pan also. If so, it is obvious that, 
 while both skulls may be false, only one of the two can be genuine, and 
 that the comparative evidence is overwhelming in favour of the Amal titan 
 one. The Roman ' Head of St. Andrew ' has, however, a long and curious 
 history of its own. It was presented to Pope Pius II., in the year 1462, 
 by the Prince Thomas Palaiologos (who ultimately died at Rome in 1465), 
 brother of the Emperors John VII. and Constantine XIII. (the last of the 
 Roman Emperors), who was Prince of Achaia, and who brought it from 
 Patrai ; and, since then, it has been the centre of many a Papal ceremony. 
 It is easily conceivable, upon the one hand, that Constantine the Great 
 may have left at Patrai, or that some subsequent Emperor, or even the 
 Latin authorities, may have sent thither, the bones of the face and jaws, 
 as all that remained of the mouth which had there proclaimed the Gospel 
 with its latest breath ; and in support of this theory may be cited the facts
 
 48 THE LAST BESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 by the Cardinal Peter Capuano in 1208, and re-dis- 
 covered in 1603, was, as already mentioned, removed 
 from the bottom of the grave and enshrined in the crypt 
 in 184G. It is kept in a sort of small cupboard or 
 ambry, of marble, with a gold or silver-gilt door, upon 
 the Altar-like table which is placed against the back of 
 the reredos. Hence, it is in the full light of the win- 
 dow in the Eastern apse. When the ambry is opened, 
 the cranium appears within, in a reliquary of glass and 
 silver, which can be brought out for closer inspection. 
 As the present writer has no knowledge of anatomy, he 
 can only say that the skull appeared to him rather long, 
 and less than the average size of that of an adult man, 
 the forehead somewhat narrow, and the sutures remark- 
 ably obscure. 
 
 It is obvious that in any future operations of which 
 the Cathedral of Amalfi may be the subject, a very 
 different treatment ought to be applied to its different 
 parts. The crypt itself should be left unaltered, or 
 rather, simply put as much as possible into the condi- 
 tion in which it was left in 1616. At the same time, 
 an attempt ought to be made to use the interior of the 
 whole of the great architectural platform upon which 
 the Cathedral stands, for a vast and noble crypt or 
 
 that the silver-encased object at St. Peter's is described as singularly small 
 for a complete head, that the Church of Amalfi does not claim to possess 
 the jaws and face-bones, that a small portion of bone is still at Patrai, and 
 that a tooth is among the parts which were shown at St. Andrews in the 
 Middle Ages, if not as early as the Eighth Century. On the other hand, 
 a nasty suspicion is aroused by the facts that in the Fifteenth Century the 
 skull at Amalfi had passed out of sight, and the documents attesting its 
 presence were rery likely unknown, while there were very strong reasons 
 for pleasing Pius II. by an interesting and valuable present.
 
 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 49 
 
 under-church. On the other hand the cloister (the 
 Paradiso), the bell-tower, and the Church of the 
 Assumption with its Northern and Southern chapels, 
 ought to meet with a restoration as purely conservative, 
 or rather, reactionary, as possible, so as to bring them 
 back to their Mediaeval condition, and, in this regard, 
 especial care should be bestowed upon the series of 
 chapels on the South. In the case of the great Church 
 of St. Andrew, a mixed treatment, partly re-actionary 
 and partly progressive, would be required. The stairs 
 leading to the crypt should be restored to their original 
 form. The whole or almost the whole of Archbishop 
 Bologna's work ought to be removed, and the Church 
 replaced as far as possible in its Mediaeval form. It 
 would probably be well even to remove the chapels of 
 the Blessed Sacrament and of the Crucified Saviour : 
 the Sacrament could be reserved at the High Altar of 
 the Church of the Assumption, the greater reliques 
 should be replaced under the restored High Altar above 
 the tomb of St. Andrew, and those of less importance 
 in other chapels, either in the altars or in suitable 
 ambries. The clerestory ought to be rebuilt, and the 
 transepts raised again to correspond in height with it. 
 Lastly, the roofs of the transepts ought not to be 
 allowed to run along above the High Altar. A new 
 feature should here be introduced by the erection of a 
 lofty lantern amply provided with windows. And on 
 the outside, this lantern ought to be crowned 
 with a lofty spire. The question then remains, 
 what ought to be done with the precious marble 
 inlaid-work of Archbishop Bologna. It is exquisite 
 of its kind and much too good to be lost. In all pro- 
 bability the best plan would be to erect a third 
 church, for the express purpose of containing it, 
 
 D
 
 50 THE LAST RESTING PLACE OF ST. ANDREW. 
 
 immediately to the South of and opening into the 
 church of St. Andrew. It would not require aisles ; 
 recesses between the pilasters would be sufficient to 
 hold such altars as were not wanted elsewhere. Thither 
 should go the whole thing, including the present High 
 Altar and the cielings four new shafts being, if 
 necessary, substituted for the four in the reredos which 
 might be required for the restored baldaquin. The only 
 possible difficulty would be in the arrangement of the 
 transept roof, but this would doubtless yield to a little 
 ingenuity. Externally, the narthex ought to be con- 
 tinued to the South as on the North, thus binding the 
 whole three Churches together ; and the South- West 
 angle ought to be occupied by a new clock-tower, to 
 match the old bell-tower on the North. It would be 
 far better to draw up at once a really thorough scheme 
 of this kind, and to move on slowly towards its realiza- 
 tion, than to whittle away at isolated details. Could 
 such a plan ever be carried out, and the dirty streets 
 and houses which now stand between the Cathedral 
 block and the line of the new Positano-Salerno road 
 skirting the sea, which is at present in course of con- 
 struction, be removed and made to give place to a 
 garden planted with suitable trees such as palms, the 
 mass of the Cathedral buildings would together form 
 an whole not less artistically beautiful than historically 
 precious.
 
 ON THE ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF THE NATIVES 
 OF TENERIFE. 
 
 read a paper before the present audience is an act 
 of such temerity upon my part, that I feel that I 
 ought to begin by explaining the circumstances which 
 lead me to hope that it may not be altogether without 
 interest. In the spring of this year the state of my 
 health made it desirable that I should go abroad for 
 some weeks, and I selected Tenerife, not only for the 
 sake of the singularly perfect climate, and of the short- 
 ness and ease of the journey, but also to gratify my 
 curiosity by the sight of a region until then entirely 
 unknown to me. Those who know Tenerife at all, 
 know that, especially in the case of an invalid, it is 
 necessary, in order to have any occupation, to take up 
 some line of study ; and it occurred to me to turn my 
 attention to the language spoken by the inhabitants at 
 the time of the Spanish conquest. I was the more en- 
 couraged in this because, as far as my native informants 
 could tell me, the subject had hitherto been treated in 
 only a very slight and superficial way, and, in especial, 
 no attempt had been made to discover the grammatical 
 inflections, by the examination, not only of the words, 
 but also of the few sentences which have been handed 
 down to us. Dr. George Perez, of Orotava, gave me 
 the second volume of the ' Estudios Histtfricos, 
 Climatologicos y Patologicos,' of Dr. Gregory Chil, of 
 
 51
 
 52 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 Las Pal mas in the Grand Canary, who is probably 
 known to some of those here present as having been 
 one of the Vice-Presidents of the Universal Anthropo- 
 logical Congress at Paris in 1878. It is this work 
 which has really supplied the basis of the following 
 remarks. The volume in question was only published 
 in 1889, and I am not aware that the collection of 
 Tenerifan words and sentences which it contains, and 
 which I believe to be the most perfect which has yet 
 been compiled, has hitherto been made the subject of 
 definite study by any European writer. I feel there- 
 fore some confidence that I am calling your attention to 
 something new, or am at any rate treating a subject 
 which may not be itself new with new means of exami- 
 nation. On the other hand, I am not invading a 
 province which Dr. Chil has made his own. The in- 
 vestigations of that distinguished man have not un- 
 naturally taken a course more germane to his own 
 profession, such as craniology. He has not, as I under- 
 stand, given any attention to philology, and has only 
 compiled such matter incidentally as he came across it 
 in the historical section of his work. Into these other 
 matters I have not followed him. The history of the 
 conquest is not in itself an attractive one. I will only 
 observe that the great bulk of the islanders resisted the 
 invaders for several years, and only capitulated when 
 they became sure that for them the war was becoming 
 one of extermination. On the other hand, one of the 
 native chiefs, the Prince of Guimar, early joined the 
 enemies of his country, and was left comparatively un- 
 disturbed. Hence, no doubt, the fact mentioned by 
 Sir Edmund Scory, that the native language was still 
 spoken at Candelaria, in the Principality of Guimar, 
 about 300 years ago, that is, about a century after the
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 53 
 
 conquest, whence I conclude that it can hardly have 
 become entirely extinct before about 1650 at the very 
 earliest. 
 
 Again, I have not followed Dr. Chil into his anthro- 
 pometrical researches. Race and language are doubt- 
 less often allied in the most interesting manner, but it 
 by no means follows that because a given people speak 
 a given language, therefore they belong to a given race. 
 This is especially the case where one race has been ex- 
 posed to the domination of another. I need hardly cite 
 the adoption of Teutonic dialects by Kelts, as in 
 Ireland, or the manner in which the language of the 
 Arab conquerors has entirely superseded Coptic in 
 Egypt ; probably the most glaring instances are such as 
 that of Hayti, where the inhabitants are undoubtedly 
 negroid, but speak a dialect of French. That there was 
 a mixture of races in the ancient Tenerife seems at least 
 very probable. Putting aside all anthropometrical 
 questions, in the strictest sense of the term, it is to be 
 remarked that the Spaniards noticed that the natives 
 of the northern side were fair, whereas those of the 
 southern side were dark, and seemingly different in 
 disposition.'" They remarked the tremendous social 
 distinction between the governing and the servile class ; 
 and Espinosa records that the native tradition was that 
 the latter were beings produced by a different creation. t 
 This also may perhaps have to do with another native 
 tradition recorded by him, | to the effect that once 
 upon a time sixty persons had come to the island, none 
 knew whence, and settled near Icod. There may even 
 be an indication of a mixture of several languages in the 
 statement of Marin y Cubas that ' for one thing they 
 
 * Chil, pp. 16, 39. t Pp. 40, 41. t P. 75.
 
 54 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 use more than two or three different words/ * as though 
 showing something like our own duplicated or triplicated 
 vocabulary. 
 
 In the present paper I have kept myself, as far as 
 possible, exclusively, to the language once spoken in 
 the actual island of Tenerife itself. Some writers have 
 been pleased to assume that one and the same language 
 was spoken by the natives of all the islands of the 
 Canary Archipelago, and have compiled vocabularies of 
 what they term generically the Guanche tongue, com- 
 pounded of words collected in all the islands, and often 
 with little or no attempt to indicate which word belongs 
 to which island. This assumption of lingual homo- 
 geneity or identity is at least very bold. Thomas 
 Nicolas, whose description, written in 1526, is preserved 
 in a MS. in the Library at Laguna, says of the Tene- 
 rifans : ' These people were called Guanches. Their 
 language was different to that of any other of the 
 Canary Islands. Each island had its own language.' t 
 This is, perhaps, quoted in ' A pleasant description of 
 the Fortunate Hands ... by the poore pilgrime/ 
 published in London in 1583, where it is said: ' These 
 people were called Guaches by naturall name. They 
 spake another language cleane contrarie to the Canarians, 
 and so consequently everie iland spake a severall lan- 
 guage/ Mr. Glas, who wrote rather more than a cen- 
 tury ago, and is reckoned one of the most trustworthy 
 of the English authorities, says expressly : ' Whether 
 the Canarians were exiles from Africa, or not, I shall 
 not pretend to determine; but am persuaded they came 
 originally from thence. This may easily be proved from 
 
 * Cited in Chil, p. 46. 
 
 t Note communicated to me by Mr. de G. Birch.
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 55 
 
 the similitude of customs and language in South 
 Barbary to those of the natives of all the Canary 
 Islands, excepting Tenerife. The language of Tenerife, 
 at the time of the conquest, had no affinity to those 
 spoken in the rest of the islands : by the annexed 
 specimen it seems to have some resemblance of the 
 Peruvian or some other of the American tongues.* 
 Antonio Galvanos says : ' Every island did speak a 
 severall language/ 1 Again, we find the opinion that 
 there were separate languages in the different islands 
 combined with one which was common to all. Thus we 
 read that the ' Guanches [of Tenerife] had a peculiar 
 language quite different from the Canarians, and so in 
 the rest, the inhabitants of every island had a distinct 
 tongue beside the language common to all ; ' J and, 
 again, 'Every island had a peculiar dialect of one 
 mother language which was common to them all.' 
 And some writers have endeavoured to distinguish 
 particular words as local, while they specify others 
 as being common to all the islands. Again, we 
 find it stated, in direct contradiction to the writers first 
 cited, that ' They spake all one language.' || The most 
 general opinion seems to have been that expressed by 
 Viera y Clavijo, namely, that the different languages 
 spoken in the different islands of the Canary Archi- 
 pelago, were different dialects of one mother tongue. IF 
 I have not myself gone into this question, which is, 
 perhaps, insoluble. Dr. Chil has taken the truly 
 scientific course, by endeavouring to compile separate 
 
 * History of the Discovery and Conquest of the Canary Islands, p. 172. 
 
 + Purchas his Pilgrimage. Pt. 2, p. 1673. 
 
 General Collection of Voyages, p. 537. Ibid., p. 533. 
 
 || Ibid, p. 533. IT Cited in Chil, p. 46.
 
 56 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENEKIFE. 
 
 vocabularies for all the islands. I will only say that, 
 having read those of the other islands, as well as that 
 of Tenerife, as given by him, the impression produced 
 on my mind was that, as far as the vocabulary was 
 concerned, there was a resemblance somewhat similar 
 to that between English and German. But I need not 
 impress upon this audience that vocabulary alone is a 
 most uncertain guide, especially where different lan- 
 guages have been brought into contact. It has been 
 well remarked that if the language of Gibbon were sub- 
 jected to a scientific examination from the point of view 
 of vocabulary alone, such a study would be apt to lead 
 to the conclusion that the history of the Decline and 
 Fall of the Roman Empire had been written in a dialect 
 of Latin. Thus, also, the spoken dialect of the English 
 Gypsies offers us English grammar with an Indian 
 vocabulary, and that of the peasants of Brittany, a 
 Keltic vocabulary with French grammar. Whether, 
 therefore, the Tenerifan language was, or was not, more 
 or less identical in vocabulary with those of the other 
 Canary Islands, is only a partial factor in determining 
 its character. The grammatical indices as regards the 
 others seem to be very, very scanty : and I have been 
 largely influenced, in confining myself to the Tenerifan, 
 by the consideration, embodied in the remark made by 
 Dr. Chil/" that it is the only one of which the existing 
 remains offer a number of words and phrases sufficient 
 to form any basis for a grammatical analysis. 
 
 Before going farther, I may be permitted to remark, 
 although it is going a little outside the line which I 
 have proposed to myself, that there seem to have been 
 
 * Cited in Chil, p. 45.
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 57 
 
 three main opinions as to the nature of the Tenerifan 
 language, which the majority of writers have been 
 pleased (as seems, to me, very rashly) to identify with 
 those of the other Canary Islands, in one tongue which 
 they generically designate as Guanche. 
 
 The first is that of Glas, already cited, who, separat- 
 ing it entirely from the others, considers it to be 
 American, while they are African. This opinion re- 
 ceived an interesting confirmation in the result of an 
 experiment recently made by me through Mr. de Gray 
 Birch, of the British Museum. I sent him the existing 
 sentences of the language as given by Dr. Chil. Mr. 
 Birch laid them before Dr. Charles Rieu and Mr. A. G. 
 Ellis, without saying what they were, and both gentle- 
 men, after studying them, gave the same opinion, viz., 
 that the language was an American one. Of course 
 this opinion is one that would specially commend itself 
 to believers in a lost continent Atlantis, who would 
 thus hail an additional proof that the Canary Archi- 
 pelago is but the peaks of its otherwise submerged 
 highlands. And if it can be shown that the Tenerifan 
 is really American, and further that it is really identi- 
 cal with the languages of the other islands, of which so 
 much less is known, it will be clear that Glas' limitation 
 of his linguistic theory fell short of the truth. 
 
 The English prophet of the second opinion may, I 
 believe, be said to be Sir Edmund Scory, who, writing 
 in the time of Queen Elizabeth, says : ' The language 
 of the old Guanches (which remayneth to this day 
 among them in this island in their towne of Candelaria) 
 alludeth much to that of the Moores in Barbary.' * 
 This Berber theory seems certainly the most natural 
 
 * Cited in Purchas his Pilgrimage, \. 786.
 
 58 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 one, and may be called the fashionable one. Lists of 
 words have been made in order to support it by real or 
 fancied resemblances. It has sometimes been assumed 
 as if an undoubted fact. To discuss it at length is not 
 
 O 
 
 within my proposed purpose, but I may be forgiven for 
 citing in connection with it one very singular passage 
 in a later treatise contained in the same MS. at Laguna 
 which contains that of Thomas Nicolas. The author * 
 expresses the belief that all the islanders had come 
 originally from the mainland of Africa, that their lan- 
 guage had originally been African, and that some words 
 were still the same. But he says that the language 
 now spoken by them was, as a whole, so totally different 
 from any African one, that, having regard to the 
 obscure mass of palatals and gutturals in which the 
 pronunciation consisted, he hazards the speculation that 
 the Romans had cub out the tongues of all the original 
 immigrants, and that these afterwards, in order to have 
 a medium of vocal communication, had invented an 
 entirely new language, containing only such sounds as 
 they were able to articulate with the stumps of their 
 tongues, along with such African words as were amen- 
 able to the same treatment. 
 
 Lastly, when I was reading Dr. Chil's compilation in 
 Tenerife, and without any access to a Berber, American, 
 or even Shemetic grammar, I was struck with what 
 appeared to me to be Aryan elements. This seemed to 
 me so entirely out of the question that I felt almost 
 ashamed of the thought. It is only since my return 
 that I have learnt how widely the theory of the 
 Guanches' Teutonic origin has been discussed and 
 
 * Note made for me by Mr. Birch.
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 59 
 
 maintained upon the basis of the remains of their 
 language. 
 
 I have not gone into these theories. I am not aware 
 that any of them have been supported by grammatical 
 argument. I have had no wish to study the contro- 
 versies of others, still less to plunge into them myself. 
 I do not even wish to advocate a theory. My only 
 wish has been to lay before you the results of my 
 analysis of Dr. Chil's compilations, as the fullest and 
 most recent on the subject, in the hope that I may thus 
 obtain for the matter the attention of some who are 
 more fitted to treat it than I am. And for the purpose 
 of such an analysis I have considered it an advantage 
 that I should approach the subject as ignorant as pos- 
 sible of the disputes which have taken place before me. 
 
 For the subject of my analysis I have come to the 
 conclusion that it is best for me generally to adhere to 
 the list given by Dr. Chil. From being a native of the 
 Canaries, and from his special position at Las Palmas, 
 he occupies a position of greater vantage for his pur- 
 pose than any other writer with whom I am acquainted. 
 Mr. de Gray Birch, of the British Museum, has been 
 good enough to have a large number of books in the 
 library there consulted for me, and also to go to the 
 Canary Islands for the same purpose a voyage which 
 I also trust was of some service in recruiting his health 
 after an attack of influenza. But the extracts made for 
 me by him, in addition to the almost endless difficulty 
 which they offer by confounding Tenerifan words with 
 words belonging to the languages of the other islands 
 of the Archipelago, seem to contain few or none not 
 known to and classified by Dr. Chil. The only excep- 
 tion of great importance is a number of names of plants,
 
 60 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 and among these, besides the immense difficulty, to one 
 entirely ignorant of botany as I am, of identifying each 
 by its scientific name, and the probability that the vast 
 majority are proper names of plants peculiar to the 
 Canary Islands, I have been startled by finding such 
 pure Spanish words as manzanilla and helecho put down 
 by some authors as native ; if such be the case with 
 words so very ordinary, what can be expected in the 
 case of more unusual, more archaic, or more provincial 
 Spanish terms which may have been, and doubtless 
 were, imported by Spanish colonists of two, three, or 
 four centuries ago ? More than forty words were also 
 supplied to me by the Rev. Claudio Marrero, Bene- 
 ficiado of the Church of the Concepcion at Laguna, and 
 of these about twenty are not in Dr. Chil's vocabulary, 
 but of these twenty all were proper names of places, 
 except one or two which are technical names for objects 
 peculiar to the island. I have also another and 
 peculiarly interesting list of eighty-six words, com- 
 municated by Don Manuel de Ossuna to Mr. Birch."" 
 Very few of these words occur in Dr. Chil's work, and 
 Don Manuel has the intention of publishing them. They 
 consist of proper names of places, including those of 
 four sepulchral caves of the aborigines, and two of 
 
 * In the letter to Mr. Birch in which he encloses them he says : ' I 
 make an expedition every year to the out-of-the-way district of Anaga, a 
 portion of this island which is full of attractions for an anthropologist, or 
 indeed for any kind of student. There the primitive aboriginal type has 
 been preserved in great purity, and the native families have handed down 
 among themselves customs and traditions of great antiquity. In my ex- 
 pedition last year I collected various words of the language which was 
 spoken before the Spanish conquest, and a naturalist who accompanied me 
 discovered a small bird which had never before been classified, and which 
 I have named, after him, the Euleeula Cabreriensis.' I cite these words 
 chiefly to give the reader the pleasure of knowing that a man so intelligent 
 is engaged upon work so interesting.
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 61 
 
 places traditionally associated with their kings, and 
 names of plants which I take to be peculiar to the island, 
 along with two or three local technical words, and 
 
 O ' 
 
 thirteen words traditionally addressed to animals, which 
 may be verbs, but the exact meaning of which is now 
 unknown. 
 
 Here also I had perhaps better say at once that I 
 have given no attention to the so-called inscriptions 
 said to have been discovered. I am not concerned to 
 deny that these few collocations of scratches may really 
 be inscriptions. But, even if this were admitted, and 
 also that they are native, the amount of information 
 which they could yield would be quite insignificant 
 compared with that derivable from other sources. I 
 understand however that those who have studied them 
 have generally regarded them as Libyan or Cartha- 
 ginian. It is certain that the natives, at the time of 
 the Spanish conquest, knew nothing of either reading 
 or writing. And my own belief is that these inscrip- 
 tions, if inscriptions they be, would throw no more light 
 upon the native language than the inscriptions left by 
 the Franklin expedition would throw upon that of the 
 Esquimaux. 
 
 If there be a fault in Dr. Chil's list, it is that I sus- 
 pect that he has sometimes included in the Tenerifan, 
 words belonging to the languages of other islands, such 
 as Tamonante, which he gives for 'the priestess' on the 
 authority of Viera, and as a proper name on that of 
 Berthelot, while, as far as I have been able to ascertain, 
 it was the personal title of a particular witch who lived 
 in Fuerteventura, and with her very possibly only a 
 local title from some shrine, since in Dr. Chil's voca- 
 bulary of the language of the Grand Canary I find 
 Tamonanten and Tamoganten for ' the house/ and
 
 62 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 Tamonantacoran and Tamogantacoran for 'the bouse of 
 GOD.' But, having in view his greater personal advan- 
 tages for research, I have thought it better to accept 
 his conclusions than to endeavour to sift them by any 
 criticism of rny own. 
 
 His list consists of about 1,000 words and phrases 
 collected out of the incidental notices of divers old his- 
 torians and travellers. Of these, however, about three- 
 quarters are proper names of places and people, and to 
 determine how far they may be generic or descriptive 
 would require an amount of topographical research 
 which has been beyond my reach. Of about 250 which 
 remain, I will put aside the complete sentences for the 
 moment, as I would rather treat them in connection 
 with grammar than with vocabulary. On analyzing 
 the rest, so many turn out to be mere variants in 
 spelling, that the residuum comprises only some ninety 
 words, and from these again must be deducted as com- 
 paratively useless for philological purposes the names of 
 plants and other things peculiar to the island. I have 
 been obliged to use the word ' about ' deliberately, as 
 the varieties of spelling are such that I cannot feel cer- 
 tain that I may not have confounded some words which 
 are really different, or separated some words which are 
 really the same. This question of spelling must be 
 fully faced. It must be kept in mind, to begin with, 
 that the writing is all phonetic, and that the system of 
 phonography is purely Spanish. Thus, the combination 
 th is not intended to represent any such sound as that 
 of the Greek 0, but one somewhat like that of th in the 
 words pothouse and carthorse. Again, if a sound did 
 not exist in Spanish, some other which does would 
 certainly have been substituted for it. Thus, I asked 
 my learned friend Dr. George Perez how a Spaniard
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 63 
 
 who did not know English would be likely to represent 
 the two obscure sounds of t in the word tuition, and he 
 answered that such a man would probably represent 
 both by ch. Again, Spanish orthography is still suffi- 
 ciently fluid, as, for instance, in the use of j or x ; and 
 the pronunciation is very various, as, for instance, that 
 of the soft c. And here we have to deal with writers 
 of centuries ago. I am strongly inclined to suspect that 
 by many, if not all, h, j, x, and even g were treated as 
 convertible : thus, ' the assembly ' is called Tagoror by 
 Castillo and Tahoror by Berthelot : and even r seems 
 sometimes to approximate to the same, as in the 
 variants Tarucho and Tahucho, the name of a mountain. 
 Again, c must be used by some as universally conver- 
 tible with s, since the word spelled chucar by Viera 
 and Nunez de la Pefta is spelled chusar by Yiana ; and 
 an uncertainty even hangs over z, as where we find the 
 word for a daughter given by Espinosa as Cucaha, 
 rendered Zucaha by Viera, Zucasa by Abreu Galindo, 
 and Zuchaha by Bory de St. Vincent. After all these 
 difficulties come the blunders of copyists and printers, 
 as where it is impossible to escape the conclusion that 
 the word ascribed to Viana as sahagua in one place is 
 the same which he is made to give as zahana in another. 
 So that the reader is exposed to the terrible suspicion 
 that the essential consonant upon which he is basing 
 some structure of philological argument may after all 
 owe its existence to nothing but a slip of the pen or the 
 inadvertent movement of a compositor's hand. 
 
 Under all these drawbacks I now proceed to give a 
 list, partially annotated, of the words which seem to me 
 the most important of those which have known equiva- 
 lents in other languages. This I treat, as far as possible, 
 only as vocabulary. The sentences I shall take after-
 
 64 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TEXERIFE. 
 
 wards, in an attempt to throw some light upon the 
 grammar. But I must beg leave here to assume what 
 I hope then to prove, viz., that the definite article was 
 some form of t, at, or ta, or some sibilant modification 
 of it, such as atch, ash, as, or ach. And I must also 
 beg to be allowed in analyzing the earlier words to 
 make use of some of the later. The words are taken as 
 a whole in the nearly alphabetical order in which they 
 are given by Dr. Chil. 
 
 Acaman, ' GOD Most High ' according to Viana ; 
 'the Sun' according to Marin y Cubas. This seems to 
 show that GOD and the Sun were regarded as identical. 
 Abreu Galindo gives the word as Achaman, with the 
 meaning ' GOD.' From this it appears that the ac is 
 for ach, and is the article. The word also appears in 
 the forms Atuman and Ataman (i.e., seemingly with 
 the article unmodified) translated ' the sky ' by the 
 same Abreu Galindo, who also gives two compounds, 
 Atguaychafanataman and AtguaycJiafurataman, which 
 he translates ' the Owner of the sky.' As atguay 
 means ' the spirit,' the difficulty lies in chafan or 
 chafur (perhaps this latter a misreading of the former). 
 Maximiliano Aguilar gives Chafa as the name of a 
 mountain, and Chafanzo as that of some place undes- 
 cribed, while Don Claudio Marrero gives me Chafa as 
 that of a very lofty mountain-ridge, and Chefina (per- 
 haps the true form of a word Chafiras attributed to 
 Maximiliano Aguilar as the name of another place 
 undescribed) of a gentle rising ground. Chafan may, 
 like some other words, be a plural form. Query, there- 
 fore : Does Atguaychafanataman mean 'the spirit of 
 the mountains of the Sun ' as indicating some peaks 
 upon which the rays lingered most ? It may possibly, 
 on the other hand, be connected with chafena, chafar,
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 65 
 
 or ofaro, and signify ' the spirit of the Sun's grain/ in 
 reference to the spirit presiding over some sacrificial 
 offering. Viana also gives Amenacoran for ' My GOD, 
 have mercy ! ' The Amen may be the same as A man, 
 and, if so, the true meaning of the phrase is ' Sun 
 GOD.' 
 
 Acguayaxerax, 'the Great, the Sublime, the Sustainer 
 of all ' according to Abreu Galindo. As we know 
 separately that Guaya means ' spirit/ and Xeraxi, 
 1 the sky or universe/ the meaning might be given as 
 anima mundi, but this is too abstract a notion for these 
 savages, and I take it that the signification is 'the Life 
 (or Soul) of the sky/ and that the phrase .is probably a 
 divine title of the Sun. It occurs in a variety of forms. 
 Abreu Galindo himself gives Achguayerxerax as ' the 
 Sustainer of heaven and earth/ Achguarergenan (a 
 form which, from other examples, I think is probably a 
 plural) as ' the Sustainer of all/ and Guarirari (with- 
 out the article) as 'the Indweller of the universe.' 
 Viana gives Aguarerac and Goyagerax, without any 
 meaning, but referred by Dr. Chil to Achguayaxerax, 
 and Guayaxiraxi as ' the Owner of the world ' to which 
 Dr. Chil refers the Guaxagiraxi of Bory de St. Vincent. 
 Viera has Aguatrar. 
 
 Acoran (Abreu Galindo) and Acoron (Nunez de la 
 Peiia) are clearly identical, as suggested by Dr. Chil, 
 with the Acheron of Viana and the Acheron of Espi- 
 nosa. The word admittedly signifies ' GOD.' I suspect 
 that it is also the same word as Achahuerahan, given 
 as ' GOD the Creator' by Bory de St. Vincent, and 
 Achahurahan, rendered * Great GOD ' by Viera ; and 
 these once more I take to be the same with the 
 Acuhuragan of Viana and the Achuhuaban (probably 
 the b a mistake of copyists for A) of Abreu Galindo,
 
 66 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 both translated ' Great GOD.' Nunez de la Pena also 
 gives Achuhurahan, Abreu Galindo Achuhuyahan, and 
 Viera Achxuaxan. The word oran, oron, huerahan, 
 hurahan, etc., appears to me to be probably the same as 
 appears in Eraorahan, given by Abreu Galindo as the 
 name of the male deity worshipped by the natives of 
 Hierro, and which after their conversion they applied to 
 our LORD. For this Abreu Galindo also gives the forms 
 Erahoranhan and Eraoranhan, but in these we have 
 the syllable han following the final n, and I am there- 
 fore inclined to regard them as dual or plural forms, 
 signifying ' the gods,' since we know that in the 
 language of the island of Palma tigot signified 'heaven 
 in the singular, and tigotan (with cm suffixed) ' the 
 heavens ' in the dual or plural. I must also remark 
 that in the form Achahuerahan, and perhaps in some of 
 the others, it would seem at least probable that we have 
 the syllable hu inserted after the article and before 
 oran, and I have suggested in connection with another 
 word that hu was a performative indicating greatness or 
 holiness, so that Viera, Viana, and Abreu Galindo may 
 have been literally right in translating the words which 
 they endeavour to represent by the forms Achahurahan, 
 Acuhuragan, and Achuhuaban, by the term ' Great 
 GOD.' 
 
 Achano, ' the year ' (Viera). It is evident that ano 
 is merely the Spanish word, and this compound is 
 therefore in itself an almost sufficing proof that Ach is 
 the native definite article. 
 
 Achic, ' son or descendant of ' (Viana). I believe 
 this word to be a mere blunder founded upon the 
 beginning of Achicuca, of which hereafter. 
 
 Achicasna, ' the servant,' and Achicasnai and Achi- 
 caxna, ' the villager/ doubtless in the sense of serf.
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 67 
 
 This was the title of the servile class among the natives, 
 and I think that casna, casnai, and caxna are probably 
 the same as the word zahana, zahana, etc., which 
 occurs repeatedly in the sentences preserved to us. 
 This I conclude from the sense of these passages. It 
 would follow that in zahana the ictus should be upon 
 the antepenultima. 
 
 Achiciquiso, Cichiciquico, and Cichiciquizo. The 
 latter two are translated ' squire,' and Gichicicuizo, 
 ' attached to the nobility.' Abreu Galindo also gives 
 Chilhisiquizo. This is the designation of the free class 
 above the Achicaxna but below the Achimencey. The 
 question here is whether the initial Cs and G are pre- 
 fixes to the article, and what is the precise force of the 
 prefixed syllable chil. 
 
 Achicuca, translated ' the bastard/ which is not its 
 precise meaning. I will speak of cuca under its own 
 head, and here only observe that the present word is 
 another proof that ach is the definite article. 
 
 Achimaya and Achimayec, ' the mother.' There 
 is a certain resemblance between may a or mayec and 
 the Latin mater, English mother, etc. And I may say 
 here that I have noticed that Tenerifan and other 
 Guanche words expressing women often contain the 
 syllable ma or mo. In connection with this word I may 
 also call attention to the fact that there exists what 
 purports to be a verse of native poetry of the Grand 
 Canary, and of which we have what purports to be a 
 word-for-word translation. In this the word aguabal 
 is said to mean ' our mother,' and such total dissimi- 
 larity in such a term would argue total dissimilarity of 
 language ; but there may be a mistake, especially as the 
 next word (rendered * these people ') is maicd, and may 
 be the real word, and a form of mayec.
 
 68 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 Achimencey and Archimensi, ' the noble,' and 
 Ahimeneey, ' the descendant of a prince.' These were 
 the highest social class, including the actual princes or 
 kings, since Mencey alone (without the article) is given 
 by Viera as signifying ' sovereign ' or ' king.' Of its 
 derivative Menceyto, a title of GOD, I shall speak in its 
 place. The fundamental notion appears to be height, 
 and there is a place called Menceina or Menceyna, 
 perhaps meaning * an height.' I confess that it 
 reminds me of the word eminence. 
 
 Achineche, the name of the island of Tenerife. It is 
 also found as Atchinetche, Chineche, Chinechi, and 
 Chinet. Dr. Chil seems to be of opinion that Chineche 
 is only another form of the more ordinary name Chenerfe, 
 Chenerife, or Tenerife, but I confess that I cannot 
 account for such a transmutation of ch with f, and I 
 prefer to regard it as a separate word, the fundamental 
 meaning of which is now lost. 
 
 Achmayec-Guayaxirax-Acoran-Achaman (Viana). 
 As we have all these words separately, we know the 
 meaning of this to be ' the mother of the soul of the 
 sky, GOD the Sun.' Abreu Galindo also gives 
 Atmayceguayaxiraxi, ' the mother of the soul of the 
 sky,' but which he falsely translates ' the mother of 
 the Sustainer of the world/ as he also renders Chaxi- 
 raxi (in Marin y Cubas Chijoraji), ' the sky,' by ' she 
 who bears the Owner of the world/ and says that it 
 was a title given by the natives to the Virgin of Can- 
 delaria. I presume the real title to have been the long 
 one here given, and that it was simply an attempt to 
 translate the Spanish Madre de Dios. 
 
 Achucanac and Acucanac are words given by. Abreu 
 Galindo, and identified by Dr. Chil, doubtless rightly, 
 with Achjucanac, translated * the sublime GOD ' by
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 69 
 
 Viera, who also gives Achaxucanac and Ahicanac. 
 Espinosa gives Achuhucanac. This is obviously the 
 same word with the Hucanech of Nunez de la Pena, and 
 the Jucancha, ' the Omnipresent GOD,' of Marin y 
 Cubas, who also gives Gucancha. This is really the 
 name of an apparition in the shape of a large dog, and 
 is connected with Cancha, of which presently. The 
 peculiarity of the present word is the syllable Hu fixed 
 as a differentiation between the article and the noun. 
 It is clearly a preformative indicating greatness or 
 holiness. It is certainly suggestive of the English high 
 or the German hoch. It seems to occur as the first 
 syllable of some names of places, and it would be 
 interesting to discover whether they are all heights, 
 like the mountain called Hyo by Berthelot. It seems 
 to me also possible that this preformative hu may enter 
 into some of the divine names, such as Achahuerahan, 
 which I have mentioned under Acoron, the fundamental 
 word being oron ; but the vagaries of spelling among 
 the different writers are so great that I shrink from 
 drawing a conclusion upon this point. 
 
 Aguere. This is the ancient name of Laguna, and 
 seems to have the same meaning, viz., 'the lake,' in 
 allusion to the beautiful lake there the only one in 
 the island now drained. The word is certainly rather 
 suggestive of the Latin aqua, or, if the ag be taken to 
 be a corrupt representation of the article, or the gu to 
 be simply the digamma, the guere or uere may have 
 some remote connection with the English word weir or 
 even water. I cannot pass away from the subject with- 
 out allowing myself an expression of deep regret at the 
 destruction of this lake. Arguing by analogy from the 
 striking peculiarities of the land flora, it probably
 
 70 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 possessed some unique aquatic vegetation, the know- 
 ledge of which has thus been for ever lost to science. 
 
 Ahico, a dress, seemingly identified with a leathern 
 shirt. 
 
 Ahofor Ajof, ' milk.' 
 
 Ara, Aja, or Axa, ' a she-goat.' It is said also to 
 mean 'a fold,' in the same sense as Hana and Jana, 
 and I am inclined to identify it with haro, ' a fold.' 
 The word ara, ' a she-goat,' occurs in Berber, but con- 
 sidering the existence of the Latin aries, ' a ram,' I do 
 not think that very much can be built upon that cir- 
 cumstance. I have also been informeed that in Sanskrit 
 (of which I know nothing) aga means ' a goat.' 
 
 Ana,, ' a ram.' I suspect that this is the same word 
 as hana and jana, rendered ' a fold,' just as the double 
 meaning is ascribed to ara. In connection with this 
 word it is natural to remember the Latin agnus, in the 
 Italian pronunciation of which the gn has exactly the 
 same sound as the Spanish n. 
 
 Aran or Haran, 'fern.' Allowing for the same 
 transmutation of f and h by which the Latin filix be- 
 comes the Spanish helecho, haran would be jforan, and 
 simply the same word as the English fern, which in 
 Scotland is often pronounced feron. 
 
 Axo and Xayo, ' a mummy.' 
 
 Benesmen, ' the position of harvest-time,' according 
 to Viera, seems to be the same word as Benismer and 
 Benesmer, which Abreu Galindo gives for the month 
 of August. 
 
 Bentinerfe, Benichin, Bentcheni, Bincheni. and Bin- 
 chini, also Vicheni, also Guanchtinerf, Guanctinerfe, 
 Guanche, and Guanchinet, ' a native of Tenerife.' This 
 word opens one of the most interesting questions in 
 connection with this language. It is necessary to re-
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 71 
 
 member, (1) that to the Spanish ear B and V are hardly 
 distinguishable ; we actually find Ventore given for 
 Bencom, the name of the Tenerifan king : (2) the close 
 connection between V and W, which latter letter the 
 Spaniards do not possess, and the undoubted confusion 
 between the sounds of W and Gw. It is thus that in 
 Latin the Welsh word Gwent constantly appears as 
 Venta, or that we learn from the Venerable Bede that 
 Penguaul was Pictish for ' the head of the vallum' 
 And I may mention that in Tenerife itself I have 
 invariably heard the word Guanche pronounced Wanche. 
 This word Guanche is of course only the beginning of 
 the word before us. The name of the island is Tenerife, 
 and, with the T softened, Chenerife, or Chenerfe. Viera 
 informs us that Guan signified 'son of ;' hence 
 Guanchinerfe simply means 'son of Tenerife.' The 
 variety of the spelling of this word Guan, Ben, or Ven, 
 seems to me to point clearly to a digamma, which had 
 probably a sort of W sound. As to the word itself, the 
 form Ben is exceedingly suggestive of the Shemitic Ben, 
 'a son,' but I should like to know the derivation of 
 Vandal and Wend before hurrying to any conclusion ; 
 and also whether it may not be possible that by the 
 mutation of the digamma into the aspirate, and of the 
 aspirate into the sibilant, as in the case of such a word 
 as our salt, this word may not, after all, be the same as 
 the English word son. 
 
 Benicod, Benicoden, ' the people of Icod.' a town in 
 Tenerife. These are evidently formed by Guan or Ben 
 and the name of the place, like the generic term for the 
 natives of the island. The two words are very valuable, 
 as they seem to be singular and plural, and thus supply 
 another instance of the plural in en. Dr. Chil adds 
 Benicoren, bub I am rather led to think that there is a
 
 72 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 separate place called Icor, in which case this is only an 
 additional instance of the same formation. However, if 
 this be really the same and not another word, I should 
 regard it as a mere mistake of Berthelot, his copyists, 
 or his printers. 
 
 Benrimo, as we are informed by Abreu Galindo, 
 meant 'son of the cripple.' As Ben is 'son,' rimo 
 must mean ' cripple.' 
 
 Before passing from this word Guan or Ben as found 
 in these compounds, I should like to add the following 
 note extracted by Mr. Birch from the tenth of twelve 
 volumes of MS. materials for a history of the Canary 
 Islands, compiled by Don Agustin Millares, of Las 
 Palmas, in the Grand Canary, by whom they were 
 courteously shown to him. Speaking of the way in 
 which the natives translated their real names into 
 Spanish, the ancient authority copied by Don Agustin 
 says : ' He who was called Dara translated his name 
 and called himself Casas, in the same way that Benta 
 gaire translated his and called himself Sierra ; and so, 
 many others. As a matter of fact, however, Bentagaire 
 meant " son or native of the lofty ridge." I take it 
 that this word tagaire is the same as taraire, which Dr. 
 Chil gives as an alternative name of the Peak of Tene- 
 rife, otherwise called Teide. 
 
 Cabuco, ' a goat-fold.' This word is of course 
 suggestive of the Latin caper and capra. 
 
 Cancha or Cuncha, ' a small dog.' As the dogs of 
 the island are all small to the eyes of an European, no 
 importance need be attached to the adjective. This 
 word has already been spoken of in connection with the 
 apparition of the god in the form of a dog, called 
 Hucanech, and Viera once makes the mistake of apply- 
 ing to this spectre the word Achicanac, which is
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 73 
 
 evidently merely cancha with the definite article, but 
 without the qualifying syllable Hu. This word Cancha 
 is of course irresistibly suggestive of the Latin canis, 
 but the root, which we ourselves have in the word 
 hound, is so very common, existing, I believe, even in 
 Chinese, that too much ought not to be made of it. It 
 is perhaps worth noticing that this word supplies the 
 commonly received etymology of the name Canary, 
 according to the theory that these islands were called 
 the Dog-Isles, in the same way that Spain herself was 
 so called bv the Phoenicians from the abundance of 
 
 / 
 
 rabbits (shaplian) which they there observed ; but, 
 admitting the derivation, there may be in this case a 
 higher and religious sense, from the local deity or 
 divine apparition of the Hucancha. 
 
 Cel, ' the moon.' The Greek a-eXijvrj is at once sug- 
 gested. 
 
 I would here mention a word which is not in Dr. 
 Chil's work. The Rev. Don Claudio Marrero gave me 
 ohafefta as signifying 'a small portion of toasted grain/ 
 and Don Manuel de Ossuna has the same for ' toasted 
 grain/ with a verb chafar, meaning e to finish grind- 
 ing.' It is certainly very suggestive of the English 
 word chaff. It may, however, be formed from the 
 article, and a word afaro, or ofaro, signifying 'grain/ 
 and which is given by Dr. Chil. 
 
 Cofe-Cofe, the plant called goose-foot. I mention 
 this unimportant word because, if it be genuine, it is 
 remarkable as the only known instance of a repetitive 
 word in the language ; but it seems to me, for this very 
 reason, to be more probable that it was a mistake 
 caused by the native informant repeating the word, in 
 order to impress it upon his Spanish auditor.
 
 74 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENEBIFE. 
 
 Coran, 'man' or 'husband' (hombre). This is 
 given by Abreu Galindo alone. 
 
 Coruja, the red owl. This may be onomatopoeic, 
 from the bird's note, and so analogous to the Latin 
 corvus. 
 
 Cuca and Cucaha. The Spanish writers inform us 
 that, while prostitution did not exist among the natives, 
 divorce and re-marriage were not uncommon. After a 
 
 O 
 
 divorce the children of the marriage so dissolved were 
 designated by a peculiar term, a boy cuca, and a girl 
 cucaha, which latter is also spelled Zucaha, Zuchaha, 
 and Zucasa. Abreu Galindo gives Achicitca for the 
 male, which is another proof, if any more were wanted, 
 that Achi is the article. From their peculiar position, 
 unknown to Spanish law, the Spaniards sometimes call 
 these children illegitimate, and sometimes emphasize 
 the fact of their legitimacy. The great value of these 
 words lies in the evident fact that Cucaha is a regularly 
 formed feminine from cuca. 
 
 Chamato, ' woman ' or ' wife ' (mujer). This is 
 given by Abreu Galindo alone. The root may possibly 
 be ma or mo as in mayec and some other words signify- 
 ing women. Ch is probably the article, and to perhaps 
 a kind of superlative, as in the word Menceyto, of 
 which presently. 
 
 Chivato, ' a kid.' This is given by Berthelot only, 
 and strikes me as very suspicious, that is, as regards 
 the meaning, as ch would naturally be the article and 
 to looks like a superlative. It may be a technical term 
 for the first or largest among kids. In connection with 
 this word I may cite the following passage extracted 
 for me by Mr. Birch from an article upon The Guanche 
 Race in the Revista de Canarias (I., 131) : ' In the 
 way in which our peasantry furnish their houses, in
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 75 
 
 their dress, their customs, their games, their fights, 
 their tastes, their exercises, their diet, their ways of 
 showing pleasure, etc., etc., there is much more that is 
 Guanche than that is Spanish. We preserve also many 
 words of their [original] language, even without reckon- 
 ing the names of a great number of villages and other 
 places. Take, for instance, gofio, hara, chiva, chafena, 
 gaunar, etc.' Gofio is a kind of porridge ; hara, as 
 already mentioned, either a ' she-goat ' or a ' fold ; ' 
 chafena, a portion of toasted grain ; of guanar, which 
 sounds like a verb, I know nothing ; but chiva may, I 
 think, be the root of chivato, and possibly means a kid. 
 If so, it may enter into the topographical names 
 chivisaya and chivara, and the latter, from the root oro 
 or goro, 'assembly,' may mean a place for herding kids 
 together. 
 
 Echeyde, Echeydey, and Egeide, also Teyde, Teida, 
 and Teide. In these variants the transmutation of the 
 soft t is very evident, as well as the prefix of the vocal 
 sound to the sibilant. This was the name of the Peak, 
 and was translated hell by the Spaniards. It was sup- 
 posed to be the residence of the evil spirit which sent 
 out the destructive eruptions, etc. There is, however, 
 nothing to show whether the word be the name of the 
 place, and got the signification of hell from particular 
 circumstances, or whether it is a regular word meaning 
 hell, which was merely applied to the place in conse- 
 quence of these circumstances. As ech or t would appear 
 to be clearly the article, the root must be ida or some 
 similar word. On the one hypothesis it recalls the 
 proper name of the Mounts Ida, and on the other that 
 of Hades. The Peak is also said to have been called 
 Taraire, but this does not look like the same name, and, 
 as already observed, I am inclined to identify it with
 
 76 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 the Tagaire which appears in the derivative Bentagaire 
 and which we are informed meant ' lofty ridge.' 
 
 Fayra. Cited by Dr. Chil from Bory de St. Vincent, 
 and mentioned in the Revista de Canarias (III., 306). 
 It is said to have been used in Lanzerote as well as 
 Tenerife to indicate a round stone in a place of worship. 
 Franz von Loeher, in his book Los Germanos de Canarias 
 (p. 130), suggests the connection of this word with the 
 Gothic vehio 'sacred/ veihan, 'to consecrate/ and 
 veiha, 'a priest.' There was certainly somewhere in 
 the Canaries an high-priest whose title was Faycan, 
 but I have not come across any proof that such a per- 
 sonage existed in Tenerife. 
 
 Guaiota (Nunez de la Pena) or Guayota (Viera), 
 * the devil/ Huayote, ' the spirit of evil/ according to 
 Viana. This was the spirit supposed to live on the 
 Peak and send out the eruptions. The root is evidently 
 Guaya, 'spirit/ and if there is a bad sense, it must be 
 in the termination ota. It seems to me, however, pos- 
 sible that this may be only an error for a superlative 
 termination in to (guayato), and mean ' the mighty 
 spirit.' And it must be remembered that the Spaniards 
 had not only a great tendency, like the ancient Romans, 
 to credit the savages with whom they came in contact 
 with a participation in their own religious ideas, but 
 also to look upon their gods as devils : in this sense 
 Mariri y Cubas applies the word "demonio" to the 
 apparition of Hucancha, which was looked on by the 
 natives as divine. The difference between -ta and -to 
 may possibly be one of gender, as in the Greek -rcn-or 
 and -Tart] ; especially as the termination a in Guaya 
 and Iguaya looks like a feminine. 
 
 Guan, ' son of ' (Viera). This is the interesting 
 word which also appears as Ben and even Ven, and is
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENEEIFE. /7 
 
 the root of such words as Guanchtinerf and the corrup- 
 tion Guanche. I need only remark here, to show the 
 frequency of the initial digarnma, that Dr. Chil gives 
 more than eighty words so beginning, while there are 
 thirty commencing with Ben, and how many of the 
 other Bs or Vs may be really the same it is impossible 
 to tell. In connection with this word Guan, I think 
 this is the best place to cite another sentence from the 
 article upon the Guanches in the Revista de Canarias, 
 already referred to. The writer there says : ' The 
 [word] "Gaa," which the peasants of the north of Tene- 
 rife use as an exclamation, undoubtedly comes from the 
 Guanche word Guan, which signifies a man.' The fact 
 of this exclamation, which I have not found mentioned 
 elsewhere, is undoubtedly curious. Guan, however, 
 does not mean ' a man ' generally, but. as we have 
 seen, ' a son ' or ' native.' And again, I cannot agree 
 that Gua is undoubtedly derived from it. It might 
 just as well be derived from any other word commencing 
 with Gua, or, as it seems to me, be identical with the 
 Welsh giuae, the Italian guai, the English woe, and the 
 Latin vce. 
 
 To pile up additional proofs as to the existence and 
 meaning of this word Guan is needless. I will only 
 remark that out of several compounds from it in Dr. 
 Chil's vocabulary of the language of Grand Canary, one 
 is Guanarteme, which is recorded to have meant ' son 
 of Arteme,' and in justice to the writer of the article in 
 the Revista de Canarias, I will add that this name has 
 a variant, Guadartheme, which, along with some other 
 words, goes to show that, in Grand Canary at any rate, 
 the final n was sometimes dropped. Here, however, I 
 had perhaps also better mention the fact that there is 
 said to have been in Grand Canary a word Guayre,
 
 78 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 meaning a man in the full enjoyment of political privi- 
 leges. This word Franz von Loeher compares or rather 
 identifies with the Gothic wair, ' a man/ ancient 
 German wer. I think he might also have remembered 
 the Welsh givr (plural, gwyr), and the Latin vir. 
 
 Guanac, ' the state,' Guanoth, ' the protector of the 
 state,' and Guanac, ' the commonwealth/ seem to be 
 closely connected with Guan. The meaning may be 
 children (sc., of the island) i.e., the people. The ' pro- 
 tector ' seems to be a pure craze of Viana. It is, 
 indeed, quite possible that this is not a separate word 
 at all, but is only Guan in the plural or with a pro- 
 nominal suffix, perhaps of the third person, meaning 
 ' his people.' 
 
 Guanhot, 'favour/ according to Bory de St. Vincent. 
 If this is correct, it seems to have the same root, wan, 
 ' desire or luck/ found in Venus or wench. 
 
 Guaya and Iguaya, ' the spirit.' The prefix i in 
 Iguaya is remarkable, as it occurs so often between the 
 article and the noun ; it may, after all, be only a part 
 of the article attached to Guaya by Marin y Cubas by 
 mistake. This root Guaya is found continually, not 
 only in religious phrases, but also in those relating to 
 life and death. It is impossible not to be reminded by 
 it of the Greek /3/09 (Latin vita], which, be it remem- 
 bered, also once began with the digamma. On the 
 other hand, there may be a connection with the Welsh 
 wawr and Latin aurora or aura, and this is made rather 
 more probable by the feminine termination in a. 
 
 Guentegueste, from Gueste or Tegueste, the name of a 
 place. The word seems clearly derived from Guan, 
 Wen, or Ben, ' child/ the article, and Gueste : arid to 
 mean simply 'natives of Tegueste/ 
 
 Guijon, or Guyon, ' the ship/ It occurs in Arguihon,
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 79 
 
 or Arguijon, said to be the ancient name of Santa Cruz 
 and to signify ' see ships.' If this latter be correct, it 
 is a plural, and another instance of a plural formed in n. 
 
 Guirre or Guirhe, ' a vulture.' This word is also said 
 by Glas to signify ravens or crows. Perhaps the mean- 
 ing is simply a predatory bird. 
 
 Harimaguada, which Marin y Cubas is also repre- 
 sented as spelling at least once Marimaguada, ' a 
 vestal or nun.' The word Maguada is also found by 
 itself in the same sense. This word contains the 
 syllable ma, as in mayec, ' mother,' and chamato, 
 ' wife.' The next syllable may possibly be connected 
 with Guay, in the sense of spiritual, or, if the root be 
 aguada, and the a or o of ma or mo have merely 
 coalesced with the initial, or if the root be guada, there 
 may be some connection with the Latin aqua or the 
 English water, since one of the principal duties of these 
 nuns was the ceremonial washing of the newly-born, 
 which the Spaniards compared, or rather identified with 
 baptism, and in consequence of which the nuns are 
 sometimes called baptizers. This word Harimaguada 
 has attracted great notice in the Teutonic school. Franz 
 von Loeher says : * ' Harimagada, the Priestess. 
 Magadas, virgins ; hari, multitude or people ; harima- 
 gadas, i.e., community or body of maidens, a word 
 seemingly compounded like the old German heriknecht, 
 which signifies an army of soldiers.' And another ex- 
 tract sent me by Mr. Birch, who has unfortunately 
 forgotten to mark it with the author's name : ' Hari- 
 magada, vestal virgin, etc., cf. Hari for Halig, holy; 
 and Gothic magath ; old High German, magad; new 
 High German, magd ; English, maid. Unless Hari, 
 
 * Los Germanos, p. 89.
 
 80 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 old High German, exercitus, army, be the root. I in- 
 cline to the former.' I admit that, to my mind, if the 
 Gothic and old German words be correct, the argument 
 appears to me to be a very strong one. There is a 
 proper name of a place Guadamojete. Can this mean a 
 nunnery ? 
 
 Ilecirmas, ' stockings/ (Marin y Cubas), and Huir- 
 nas, 'leather stockings/ (Nunez de la Pena). It seems 
 doubtful whether this can be the same word as Huirmas 
 or Huyrmas, which is translated ' large sleeves ' by 
 Viana. If so, and the translations are correct, it is only 
 like the Germans calling gloves hand-shoes. 
 
 Hirahi, Hiraji, or Xiraxi, 'the sky/ also used in the 
 sense of the universe. This word is of constant use in 
 the compounds, religious and other, and occurs in the 
 sort of coronation oath recorded by Viana and Viera, 
 spelled gerage and hirai. In these latter cases it would 
 seem to form part of some such phrase as ' all under 
 heaven.' 
 
 IricJien or Trichen, ' wheat.' This word is so ob- 
 viously the same as the Latin triticum that it awakens 
 a, suspicion that it may have been introduced through 
 the Spanish trigo, especially if the g in the latter were 
 (as is sufficiently probable) pronounced as a guttural. 
 The t would easily have been mistaken by the natives 
 for the article, and so led to irichen. 
 
 Jar co, ' the deceased/ 
 
 Htrco and Xerco, ' a shoe.' 
 
 Magcc, ' the sun/ according to Nunez de la Pena 
 and Viera; and Marin y Cubas says that the Canariotes 
 swore by ' Majec, i.e., the sun ; ' and considered the 
 soul to be immortal as being the daughter of the sun. 
 I own, however, that I regard this with great suspicion, 
 because Aman has this sense. Moreover, this word has
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERTFE. 81 
 
 a startling resemblance to mayec, 'mother/ whether 
 regard be had to the similarity of form between g and 
 y, or to that of sound if g be taken as a guttural, of 
 which latter confusion an example may be cited in the 
 fact that the Spaniards spelled the Tenerifan name of 
 the mocan fruit Hoja, Yoja, and Yoya. A possible 
 hypothesis is that the planet Venus may have been 
 called the Divine Mother, and that some Spaniard may 
 have pointed to the rising or setting sun when the 
 planet was near it, and asked what it was called, and a 
 mistake have thus arisen. I hardly think it likely that 
 the sun itself was regarded as female, as by the Ger- 
 mans, since its Divine titles were transferred to our 
 LOUD. 
 
 Mencey, 'sovereign or king.' I have already spoken 
 of this root under Achimencey, and remarked that the 
 distinguishing notion seems to be height, or, indeed, 
 eminence. 
 
 Menceyto, a title of GOD. It is evident that this is a 
 kind of superlative from Mencey, 'high or noble/ and 
 must thus mean ' the Most High.' This form of super- 
 lative seems to occur in other words, such as Chamato, 
 1 the chief woman or wife/ and Orota (vo), ' the chief 
 assembly/ it is suggestive of the Greek superlative in 
 
 -TttTO?. 
 
 Maja or Manja, ' a landing-place.' Perhaps the 
 same as Amanse and Manse, 'a shore.' 
 
 Mordngano or Moridngana, ' strawberries.' Per- 
 haps one of the an syllables indicates a plural. 
 
 Oche, ' melted butter.' 
 
 Quevey, Quebehi, and Quevihiera. Marin y Cubas * 
 mentions that the king was called Quevey. An attempt 
 
 * Cited in Chil, pp. 38, 39. 
 F
 
 82 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 has been made to connect this word with the Arabic 
 j t ' greatness,' and by von Loeher with the Gothic 
 gabei, or gabigs, ' rich.' The Latin caput is certainly 
 quite as similar. We find Quebelii or Quevechi appear- 
 ing in different authors and with varieties of spelling, 
 as ' the Royal dignity ; ' and it is used in the phrase 
 Quebehi Bencomo, as meaning ' the Royal dignity of 
 Bencom,' king of Taoro. The addition of the syllable 
 hi therefore seems to indicate the formation of an ab- 
 stract noun corresponding in sense to kingship, and 
 rather suggestive of the aspirated sibilant in the English 
 -ship, or the Latin and English -tion. Lastly, Glas 
 says that Quevehiera means ' " Your Highness," when 
 speaking to the king.' There appears therefore to be 
 here a pronominal suffix to Quebehi, signifying either 
 thine or your. If he is literally right and the meaning 
 is your, this English word certainly finds a very curious 
 cognate in iera. 
 
 Reste, ' defence or prop.' It is constantly employed 
 of Princes, seemingly in the sense of Protector, and 
 suggests the English word rest in the sense of a prop. 
 
 Sunta, ' a war fleet.' 
 
 Tabona, ' a stone knife or axe.' 
 
 Tagoror and Tahoror, ' the assembly.' This is the 
 root of the surviving place-names Taoro and Orotava. 
 The national assembly was held at the great dragon-tree 
 which stood until comparatively a few years ago in the 
 garden of the Marques de Sauzal at Villa de Orotava, 
 but the word itself is generic, since Don Manuel de 
 Ossuna mentions a spot at Anaga called Tagoro. It 
 was doubtless that where the provincial assembly of the 
 sub-kingdom of Anaga met. The vale of Orotava was 
 called Orotapala and Arautapala. Nor do I regard it 
 as improbable that the ta in Orota may have had the
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 83 
 
 superlative signification, since the assembly of Orotava 
 was the supreme council of the island, and that pala, 
 through the resemblance of v (found in Orotava) to b 
 and p, may be cognate with the word Vale or Valley. 
 
 Tamarco, ' a coat of skins.' 
 
 Tamo, Tano, and Taro, ' barley.' 
 
 Tamonante, ' the Priestess/ Dr. Chil gives this as 
 Tenerifan, both as a title and a proper name. As I 
 have already said, while bowing to his authority, I have 
 only noticed it as the title of a particular witch in 
 Fuerteventura. I will only remark that it contains the 
 usual syllable ma or mo of female titles. 
 
 Tenerife, the name of the island, also found as 
 Ckenerif and Chenerfe. An attempt has been made to 
 derive this word from the Spanish infierno, and I do 
 not regard it as impossible that the mediaeval Spanish 
 sailors may have so called the island, either from re- 
 semblance of sound, from the spectacle of the black 
 volcano, from an attempt to translate Teide, or from a 
 combination of these causes, but I cannot accept this as 
 the etymology of the name. What seems to me a still 
 wilder shot is to say that it is derived from two sup- 
 posed native words, tkener, ' mountain,' and ife, 
 'white,' the former of which I regard as mainly, and 
 the latter as wholly, guess-work. I believe the Te or 
 Che to be the article, and, from the omission of the i in 
 Clienerfe, Bentinerfe, Guanchtinerf, etc., that the ictus 
 was originally upon the antepenultima, whence it has 
 been transferred to the penultima only in accordance 
 with the usual Spanish rule for words ending in a 
 vowel. The word Tenerife also occurs in the island of 
 Hierro "" as the name of a mountain, and my own belief 
 
 * Chil, p. 149.
 
 84 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 is that nerife, nerfe, or enerfe, simply means ' moun- 
 tain ' or some particular species of mountain, such as a 
 volcano. 
 
 Titogan, 'the sky/ according to Bory de St. Vincent. 
 It is curious, if correct, since we know that the sky was 
 called Xiraxi. It is possible that it may mean the 
 clouds, that prevailing feature of the Tenerifan sky, and 
 seems to me the same as Tigotan, 'the heavens/ in the 
 dialect of the Isle of Palma, plural of Tigot, 'heaven.' 
 
 Zonfa, 'the navel.' This is rather suggestive of the 
 word Zone, ' a girdle.' 
 
 It would, as I have before indicated, be possible to 
 give a list of words, many times exceeding the fore- 
 going, but they would be nearly all proper names of 
 places or persons, or of plants and other things peculiar 
 to the island or its inhabitants. But the foregoing are 
 at least among the chief of those with which I have met 
 -which invite comparison by designating things which 
 have names elsewhere. 
 
 I now proceed to take the few surviving sentences of 
 the language. I begin with three place-names. 
 
 Arguihon or Arguijon, as I have already remarked, 
 is said to be the ancient name of Santa Cruz, and to 
 signify ' See ships ' (Mira navios). If so, since we 
 know that guihon is ' a ship ' or ' ships/ ar must mean 
 ' see.' 
 
 Alzanxiquian abcana hacxerax, according to Nunez 
 de la Pena, and Alzanxiquian abcanabac xerac, accord- 
 ing to Espinosa, signifies ' the place of the union of the 
 son of the great/ indicating the place where the
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 85 
 
 mysterious colonists settled near Icod. I confess at 
 once that I can make nothing out of this name. The 
 syllable al occurs at the beginning of six other proper 
 names of places and of two proper names of persons, and 
 xerax or xerac is clearly the sky. 
 
 Armegnine is rendered by Berthelot ' the place of 
 the sheepfold.' I conjecture it to be the same word 
 with Arbenime and Armenime, but unless it be that it 
 has anything to do with the Latin Armenia, or that 
 egnine, etc., is connected with ana, hana, jana (Latin 
 agnus), I can throw no light upon it. 
 
 The remaining sentences are closely connected with 
 the subject of grammar. Viera says : ' The language 
 of all the [Canary] islanders in common is indeclinable, 
 and the Friar Father John. Gal indo draws the same 
 conclusion in the MS. history of the conquest.' Dr. 
 Chil remarks that he cannot find any such assertion in 
 the works of Galindo ; and, I may add that it is 
 incredible. It is a well-known fact that the languages 
 of savages in especial are very complex in their gram- 
 mar. Among pure languages it is observable that the 
 tendency towards simplification, which ultimately ends 
 in indeclinability, is the result of literary culture. 
 Chinese is, I believe, indeclinable, and Coptic may be 
 said to be nearly so, but this phenomenon is owing to 
 the vast number of ages during which these languages 
 have been used for literary purposes. But there is, 
 unfortunately, such a thing as a speech which is not a 
 pure language. I mean international jargons. ' Pigeon- 
 English ' probably the most degraded of all existing 
 vehicles for the expression of thought is, I believe, 
 indeclinable. And the remark of Viera arouses the 
 strong suspicion that he and the Spanish conquerors in 
 general did not know what they were talking about,
 
 86 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 that the dialect in which they communicated with the 
 natives was only a kind of ' pigeon/ and that conse- 
 quently anything which they wrote down may be 
 utterly or almost worthless as an indication of gramma- 
 tical inflection. This supposition falls in only too well 
 with the fact that the preserved words and sentences 
 are so remarkably wanting in anything like inflected 
 terminations, and especially in terminations which have 
 nothing corresponding to them in Spanish, such as case- 
 endings. At the same time, miserably scanty, corrupt, 
 and untrustworthy as the materials are, and imperfectly 
 as they justify the remark of Dr. Chii that it would be 
 possible to form out of them a grammatical scheme, I 
 think that they still offer some points which are worthy 
 of analysis and remark. I am not aware that any 
 attention has ever yet been paid to these points. To 
 some of them I have already called attention in connec- 
 tion with vocabulary. 
 
 There may be said to be nine sentences preserved. 
 There is much that is the same in each or most of them, 
 and while much of them is unfortunately unintelligible, 
 enough is apparent to show that the Spanish transla- 
 tions are untrustworthy except as conveying the very 
 loosest idea of the general sense. It is perhaps con- 
 venient to begin with the shortest. 
 
 1. Zahanat guayohec (Viana), ' I am thy vassal.' 
 
 I identify guayohec with the root guaya, ' spirit, or 
 soul/ and suppose it to mean, ' I live.' It supplies an 
 instance of the first person singular present. 
 
 Zahanat. The meaning 'vassal' given to this word, 
 induces me to identify it with caxna, 'serf/ which has 
 already been noticed in the form Achicaxna. But here 
 there is the peculiarity that the word means ' thy 
 vassal/ and that it has a suffix in t.
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 87 
 
 2, 3, 4. The next three sentences are to a great ex- 
 tent identical, and I preface them by remarking that 
 Viana tells us that the word Agonec meant ' I swear.' 
 Here we have to notice that the first person singular 
 present again ends in ec, as in the only other instance, 
 viz., Guayohec. 
 
 Agonec, acoron inat zahana guanac reste mencey, 
 ' We swear by the day of thy coronation to make our- 
 selves the defenders of thee and thy race.' 
 
 Here Viana directly contradicts himself by saying 
 that Agonec means ' We swear/ instead of ' I swear,' 
 as he elsewhere asserts. This may be part of the 
 ' pigeon ' principle, or he may be speaking loosely in 
 giving the meaning of a collective oath. In any case, 
 in all the other examples where the word occurs the 
 sense given is singular, and, as already remarked, the 
 termination agrees with that of Guayohec. 
 
 The other words are all known separately, with one 
 exception. Acoron is 'Goo/ zahana, 'vassal/ guanac, 
 ' the commonwealth/ reste, ' protection/ mencey, 
 'king' or 'prince.' The remaining word is inat. I 
 barely suggest that the at may be the article belonging 
 to zahana, and that the in may be a preposition similar 
 to the Latin, so that inat zahana would be similar to 
 the Latin phrase in subditos. And I think the words 
 may be the beginning of some formula in the sense of 
 ' I swear, O GOD, toward the subjects of the state a 
 protector prince ' with some words meaning 'to be ' 
 omitted. Or the t in inat may be an indication of the 
 second person singular as in zahanat, so that the sense 
 may be, ' I swear, GOD, before Thee ' 
 
 Agogne, Y acoron, Inatzahana, Chaconamet. This is 
 also from Viana, who translates, ' I swear by the bone 
 of him who has made me great/ Nunez de la Pena
 
 88 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 gives the words thus : Agone, Yacoron, Inatzahama, 
 Chasonamet, and translates, ' I swear by the bone of 
 that day wherein thou hast made thyself great.' 
 According to Dr. Chil (p. 49), Espinosa gives the same, 
 except that, with Viana, he circumflexes the ris in 
 inatzahana and restores the c instead of s in chaconamet, 
 but according to the quotation from the same author 
 given by the same my learned guide on p. 40, the words 
 were Agone, Yacoron, Inaltzahana, Maconanaet. The 
 phrase about the bone alludes to the fact that the em- 
 blem of power carried by the Tenerifan princes was a 
 human thigh-bone believed to be that of the founder of 
 their dynasty. It was with this that their inauguration 
 was performed, and it seems to have been spoken of as 
 a convertible expression with their power or dignity, 
 much as we speak of ' the crown ' or ' the throne.' 
 The omission of the c at the end of Agone seems to 
 imply that the sound indicated by it was very slight or 
 obscure. The prefix of y to Acoron may perhaps 
 indicate a vocative, as with the Arabic Ya, and our 
 own (and the Latin) 0. Inatzahana is, of course, 
 although now written in one word, the same phrase as 
 in the first oath. There remains Chaconamet, which 
 also occurs in the next sentence. 
 
 Menceito acoran inatzahana Maconamet. ' This 
 King and GOD have charged me (or, raised me) to be 
 lord.' So Marin y Cubas. Maconamet is doubtless a 
 copyist's or printer's mistake for Chasonamet. Espinosa 
 nas : Menceyto Acoran inat zahana chasonameth, and 
 translates, ' this King and this GOD have raised me to 
 the throne.' That Menceyto Acoran simply means 
 ' GOD Most High,' can hardly be doubted, and there- 
 fore, that the general meaning is that the prince had 
 been raised up to reign over subjects. The crux is in
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 89 
 
 the word Chaconamet, which we find translated in four 
 different ways ' has made me great ' ' hast made 
 thyself great ' ' raised me to be lord ' and ' raised 
 me to the throne.' It will be remarked that where 
 Espinosa translates it by the second person singular he 
 ends it in t, which seems to be the pronominal suffix 
 for that person, whereas, when he renders it by the 
 third person plural he adds an h (th). The obscurity is 
 in the questions of the root and precise meaning of the 
 verb, and of what is the element which indicates the 
 perfect tense. It is possible that the ch in chaconamet 
 may represent the aspirated or modified sound of t, so 
 that the syllable may really be ta : and the next sen- 
 tence supplies a possible instance to show that the per- 
 fect tense was formed by such a prefix. 
 
 5. Achoran, nun habec, sahagua reste guagnat, sahur 
 banot gerage sote. ' I swear by the bone of him who 
 has carried the crown to follow his example and to 
 make the happiness of my subjects.' So Viana. At- 
 choran, nonhunhabet sahagua reste gouanac saour 
 banot hirai sote. ' I swear by the bone of him who 
 has occupied the throne to imitate him in taking heed 
 to the commonwealth.' So Viera. Here the actual 
 word 'I swear' is omitted. Achoran is of course 
 ' GOD.' Sahagua I take to be zahana with u sub- 
 stituted for n by printer's error. Rente is 'protection,' 
 guagnat or gouanac, ' the state,' unless the t or c be a 
 mistake for th, and the latter be a pronominal suffix of 
 the third person singular, giving guanoth the sense of 
 ' his people,' and gerage or hirai the same as Xeraxi, 
 ' the sky.' If this be correct, the words gerage sote or 
 hirai sote may mean 'under heaven,' sote having some- 
 thing in common with the Latin subter. I take it as 
 more probable that it should be a parallel and indepen-
 
 90 AXCIEXT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 dent derivative from the same root than a corruption of 
 the Spanish soto, although this also is of course possible. 
 In any case, if it be a preposition, it shows a custom of 
 placing such after the word governed bv them. 
 
 6. Acliit guanoth mencey reste Bencom. ' [Long] 
 live Bencom our lord and our protector ! ' So Viana. 
 
 Mencey and reste are of course known. The worst 
 of such a phrase as this is that the translation is pro- 
 bably idiomatic. Even in European translations of 
 Scripture we get such phrases as ' king, live for ever/ 
 'GoD save the king/ and 'May the king live for ever/ 
 used in a way which, if they stood alone, would be 
 almost fatal to the comparative grammarian ; and here 
 we get the Spanish Viva used in such a way that it 
 may no more resemble the grammatical construction of 
 the original than if it were employed to render c three 
 cheers for .' Viana, to whom we owe this sentence, 
 is also he who gives us the word guanoth as meaning 
 ' the state/ or rather, as he diffuses it, * the protector 
 of the state.' I have already suggested that guanoth 
 may really mean ' his people/ and this gains some 
 additional force from the fact that the text of the 
 phrase before us is represented by Webb and Berthelot * 
 as Acliit guanoth Mencey, Reste Bencom, as though 
 guanoth mencey signified ' lord of his people.' It is 
 also Viana who gives us zahanat as meaning ' thy 
 vassal.' It is possible therefore that the t at the end 
 of Acliit may be here also a pronominal suffix of the 
 second person singular, and that the meaning may be 
 ' Live thou, O Bencom, the commonwealth's protecting 
 lord ! ' The next sentence perhaps throws some light 
 upon the question. 
 
 * Histoire Naturelle rfes lies Caiiaries, I. 124.
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 91 
 
 7. Guaya, echey efiai nasfthc sahana. This also is 
 from Viana, who renders, 'May he live to feel the evils 
 of destiny.' The same sentence is given by Webb and 
 Berthelot * as Guayax echey, ofiac nasethe sahana. 
 
 Here we find sahana as the last word, and I can 
 hardly doubt that it is zahana or caxna once more. 
 The preceding word nasfthc is evidently corrupt in 
 Viana, as it cannot be pronounced, and I am inclined to 
 adopt the more modern reading and to connect it with 
 a word which occurs in the next sentence, and suppose 
 it to mean ' to make himself a slave,' or some similar 
 sense. At first sight the two opening words, Guaya, 
 echey, bear considerable resemblance to Achit guanoth 
 in the preceding sentence, and it may well be that 
 Achit and echey are both imperatives or optatives of 
 some verb meaning ' to live,' but differing in person. 
 Guaya, however, has not the n which appears to con- 
 nect guanoth, ' the state,' with guan, ' a son,' and it 
 is given us by itself as meaning life. I am inclined 
 therefore to think that the meaning may be simply 
 * Life ! ' or ' Let him live ! that he may be a slave.' 
 Of ejiai I can offer no explanation. The sense seems to 
 be somewhat that of the Latin ut. 
 
 8. Tanaga guayoch, archimenceu no hay a dir hanido 
 sahec chunga petut. ' The powerful father of the 
 fatherland died and left the natives orphans.' So 
 Yiana. And the same sense is ascribed by Nunez de 
 la Pena to the words Tanagaguayoch archimenceu 
 nahaia dir hanido fahet chunga pelut. 
 
 There is here no repetitive phrase like padre de la 
 patria, and it is therefore at once evident that this 
 translation is false. Archimenceu may be taken as the 
 
 * Loc. cit.
 
 92 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 equivalent for el valoroso, and it is worth remarking 
 that in this sentence alone, and in both forms of it, the 
 word mencey is made to terminate in u instead of in y 
 or i. 
 
 Tanaga guayoch, two words according to Viana, but 
 only one according to Nunez de la Pena. Guayoch is 
 evidently the same as Guaya, ' the soul/ and the ex- 
 pression translated ' died ' must therefore be equivalent 
 to some such phrase as 'gave up the ghost.' Hence 
 it would appear probable that the termination ch here 
 has some such sense as his. It is conceivable that the 
 ch may be a mistake for th. 
 
 It is remarkable that in Palma the expression Yaca- 
 guare or Vacaguare is recorded to have meant ' I wish 
 to die/ The re would therefore seem to be either a 
 future or an optative, unless indeed it be only the 
 equivalent of the ec or \j/]e of agonec or agone, perhaps 
 both. Assuming aca and aga to be the same, the 
 sound is very similar to that of the Latin agere, and the 
 sense would be somewhat that of agere vitam. 
 
 There remains the first syllable tan, which is thus 
 placed in the light of a preformative indicating the past 
 tense, and corresponding to the cha or ta which is found 
 at the beginning of the past tense word cliaconamet. 
 
 On the other words there is little to say. 
 
 No or na has the appearance of being the conjunc- 
 tion. 
 
 Haya or haia contains the vowel a which is found in 
 the other words indicating the past tense. 
 
 Dir. In the next sentence, in which, as in this, 
 occurs the expression ' native-born/ the word der 
 occurs. There the expression is in the singular, here it 
 is in the plural, and the syllable immediately following
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 93 
 
 it is han, which may be the plural termination in en 
 attached by mistake to the next word. 
 
 Hanido saliec (or fahet) chunga petut or pelut. In 
 this last word it is evident that Viana has made a 
 mistake by crossing his I, or Nunez de la Peiia by 
 omitting to cross his t. If the latter, and the sense be 
 ' fatherless,' there is some suggestion of a resemblance 
 to pater or father. 
 
 9. Chucar, guayoc archimencey reste Benchom 
 sanec vander relac nazet zahane. So Viera. 
 
 Chucar, guyet archimencey reste Bencom sanet 
 vandet relac machet zahara. So Nunez de la Pena. 
 
 Chusar, guaye archimencey reste Bencom sanat 
 velac naset zabanec. So Viana. 
 
 They all translate alike, ' Kill not thou the noble 
 native-born brother of Bencom, who yields himself 
 prisoner.' The chief variant is that Viana totally 
 omits the word vander, the last syllable of which may 
 perhaps signify ' native-born.' 
 
 Chucar. It is remarkable that this word ends in ar, 
 the syllable ar before guihon, ' ships,' in the phrase 
 Arguihon, ' see ships.' It may, therefore, be a suffix 
 of the second person imperative, and if so, the body of 
 the verb in Arguihon must be omitted. 
 
 Guayoc, guyet, or guaye. This word is evidently 
 'the soul' or 'life.' It has also evidently got a suffix, 
 but as the authors all give this differently, it is impos- 
 sible to tell what it was. I conjecture that chucar 
 guayoc may mean ' spare his life,' somewhat as tanaga- 
 guayoch means 'he gave up his life.' And the ter- 
 mination may be the same and mean * his.' 
 
 Archimencey reste Bencom. The word reste, ' pro- 
 tector/ is omitted by all the translators, who also all
 
 94 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 apply the title Archimencey to the brother, and not to 
 Bencom, of which I feel very doubtful. 
 
 Sanec, sanet or sanat, by an exhaustive process, 
 ought to be ' brother.' 
 
 Of vander I have spoken. I should have been 
 inclined to suggest that van was a form of guan, and 
 that der might have something to do with terra, the 
 whole making the sense of ' son of the soil,' but I am 
 deterred by the fact that in the preceding sentence, of 
 which we have two texts, and in which occur the words 
 ' native ' and dir, the dir is not preceded by anything 
 of the nature of van. 
 
 Relac nazet (or machet or naset) zahane, zahara or 
 zabanec. The last word I take to be again caxna, ' a 
 slave.' Nazet may be the same as nasethe or nasfthc, 
 and mean ' become ; ' relac ought to conceal the rela- 
 tive pronoun, if there be one. 
 
 These complete the matter which has been before me 
 so far as I have been able to use it for the purpose of 
 any analysis either of vocabulary or grammar, and I 
 will now proceed to summarize the results. 
 
 The Article. 
 
 Marin y Cubas remarks generally of all the natives of 
 the Canary Archipelago that ' they begin most words 
 with the letter T, the accent of which they pronounce, 
 but without finishing it ; and this is especially the case 
 in Tenerife.' Accordingly, we find in all these vocab- 
 ularies a great many words beginning with T, but in 
 that of Tenerife a very considerable number beginning 
 with ach or ch, or some closely similar sound, and we
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 95 
 
 find the same word beginning with one or the other, as 
 Chenerfe and Chenerife for Tenerife. It seems to me 
 evident, therefore, that this is a softened or modified 
 sound of t, like that in the English termination -tion. 
 The exact sound is perhaps rather difficult to settle. 
 There are two cases of atch, as though to emphasize the 
 t sound, but there are still more of etc. Assuming the c 
 to have been written fors, I think that a Spaniard would 
 have been not unlikely to represent the English sound 
 of sli (as in -tion) by c as well as by ch, and there may 
 have been provincial varieties of pronunciation. That 
 this t, modified or not, was the definite article, I confess 
 I have no doubt. This seems to me clear from the way 
 in which we find the same word with it or without it, 
 and even the Spanish word ano provided with this pre- 
 fix in order to express 'the year.' There appears also 
 to have been in this article no distinction of gender, at 
 any rate in the sense of sex, as we find equally 
 Achimayec, 'the mother,' and Achicuca, 'the son.' 
 
 As to its vocalization, the majority of the words 
 simply begin with ch followed by a vowel, but in many 
 we have such a form as Achi, and sometimes Ach 
 followed by a consonant. I fancy that the sound was 
 very obscure, and indeed Marin y Cubas says that 'all 
 these islanders pronounce with their tongues striking 
 against their palates as if they were stammering or had 
 an impediment of speech,' and Viera says that 'the 
 sounds were short, and they pronounced from the back 
 of their throats, like Africans.' With regard to the 
 vocalization of the prefix t, I may recall the fact that 
 the Coptic definite article in T seems to be vocalized 
 indifferently as eT or *!", and when it becomes aspirated 
 in * in the Memphitic dialect, it is not always followed 
 by a vowel. This Coptic article *t~, is, however, exclu-
 
 96 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 sively feminine, and in the more ancient Egyptian is 
 not prefixed but suffixed. The closest parallel to the 
 Tenerifan article with which I am acquainted is the 
 English definite article the, with its aspirated t vocalized 
 by a following e, which indeed is sometimes elided be- 
 fore another vowel in poetry or in some provincial 
 dialects. The English article also, like the Tenerifan, 
 sometimes appears as an unaspirated t, as is indeed 
 often the case in Yorkshire, and is perhaps its old form, 
 analogous to that of the Greek article. 
 
 The Noun. 
 
 It is to be observed that a large number of the nouns 
 end in vowels, and that the tendency to so terminate 
 them would be much less strong in a Spanish than in 
 an Italian writer. At the same time, the recorded 
 words can hardly be deemed free from the results of 
 such a tendency. Thus, Viana gives Bencomo in his 
 translation of the exclamation in honour of Bencom, 
 although he gives Bencom in the text. 
 
 The words cuca and cucaha show that a regular femi- 
 nine was formed from the masculine by the addition of 
 ha, although they also show that the masculine itself 
 sometimes, as in Latin, ended in a. There seems, more- 
 over, to have been rather a tendency to end feminine 
 proper names in a. Thus, Bencom had a son called 
 Deriman, and a daughter called Dacil, but his wife was 
 named Sanagua, and another daughter Ramagua, while 
 the daughter of Raito, Prince of Anaga, was called 
 Guacimara. But with the exception of this tendency 
 I have noticed nothing like sex-terminations. 
 
 I have already noticed the preformative hu which 
 distinguished the divine dog Hucancha from an ordinary
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 97 
 
 dog; and the postformative to by which Menceyto, 'the 
 Most High/ is distinguished from Mencey, * a Prince,' 
 and which probably appears also in such words as Cha- 
 mato and Chivato, (with a possible form -ta, as in 
 Guayota and Orotava). This formative -to (and perhaps 
 -ta) seems therefore to me to be of the nature of a 
 superlative, or of such a termination as the Italian -one. 
 Of plurals there are a certain number in s, such as 
 Hecirmas. ' stockings.' But I am inclined to attribute 
 
 ' O 
 
 these merely to Spanish writers as an introduction from 
 their own language, somewhat as we might find an 
 Englishman in speaking of Wales, talk of Eisteddfods 
 instead of Eisteddfodau. I have given some grounds 
 for believing that the real plural was in an, en, or -n. 
 I confess I was astonished at this, because I knew of it 
 only in German and in a few English words mostly re- 
 ferring to pairs, and I had always looked upon it as a 
 survival of the dual which had in German, as in some 
 Greek and Gaelic words, come to be used as a plural. 
 My surprise was reduced by finding it in Berber. At 
 the same time, I do not think it impossible that there 
 may have been a dual in -en (so in Palma tigotan, ' the 
 heavens,' like the Hebrew shamayim; and in Hierro 
 Eraoranhan may have really signified the two deities 
 there worshipped, as TOIV Qalv in the inscriptions at 
 Eleusis refers to the two great goddesses) and a plural 
 in s, as we have in English, sing, shoe, dual, shoon, 
 plural, shoes, or sing, eye, dual, een, and plural, eyes. 
 
 For case-endings I have looked very carefully, but I 
 have observed nothing which I should be willing to 
 suggest with any confidence as such. They do not exist 
 in Spanish, and would therefore have been peculiarly 
 liable to be omitted or confounded by imperfectly edu- 
 cated Spanish writers, especially if the latter found the 
 
 G
 
 98 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 whole pronunciation obscure, and entertained the idea 
 that the language was indeclinable. Tanagaguayoch 
 archimenceu, ' the Prince died.' Here archimenceu can 
 hardly be otherwise than a nominative, and in this sen- 
 tence alone it ends in u. Thus also some words which 
 seem to be genitive end in o, i, or y, such as Quebehi 
 Bencomo, 'the Majesty of Bencom/ Guayaxiraxi, 'the 
 soul of the sky/ and archimencey, if I am right in sug- 
 gesting that Chucar guauoc Archimencey means ' spare 
 the life of the Prince.' Again, in the formula, Agone 
 yacoron, assuming it to mean ' I swear, GOD,' there 
 may be a vocative in y after the manner of the Arabic 
 ya. And if in the phrase gerage sote we are to see in 
 sole anything in common with the Latin subter (Italian 
 sotto and Spanish soto), the terminal e of gerage may be 
 a sort of ablative or locative. But the material is too 
 scanty and uncertain to warrant any conclusion. At 
 the same time, I must also confess that I have entirely 
 failed to notice any clear trace of the prepositions by 
 which the place of case-endings is taken in so many 
 languages or by which the meaning of such terminations 
 is limited and emphasized. 
 
 As to numerals, Dr. Chil truly observes that no one 
 of the authors cited by him says a single word implying 
 that the inhabitants of Tenerife had any system of 
 numeration whatsoever. That some such thing must 
 have existed is evident to common sense, but it seems 
 only too possible that all trace of it has perished. Such 
 is the opinion of Dr. Chil, so far as his investigations 
 have hitherto led him. The only thing which has 
 struck me as possibly connected with numbers is the 
 fact that the six captains who accompanied the King 
 were called the Sigones, and the four counsellors the 
 Guanames, the beginnings of which words are slightly
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 99 
 
 suggestive of sex and quatuor. The temptation to 
 diverge into the numerals of Grand Canary is consider- 
 able. I shall, however, restrict myself to Tenerife, and 
 only remark with regard to Canary, as a circumstance 
 possibly suggestive of changes of race and language, 
 that the numerals given by Nicolas da Recco in the 
 middle of the fourteenth century differ so totally from 
 those given by Abreu Galindo, that I can hardly regard 
 them as belonging to languages of the same family.* 
 
 The Verb. 
 
 As regards the verb, we have two specimens of the 
 first person present, viz., Guayohec, ' I become,' or 
 ' live,' and Agonec, ' I swear.' In both cases the 
 
 * As illustrating a possible change of language, it may be worth while to 
 yield to the temptation above indicated, so far as to give these two sets of 
 numerals, especially as Mr. Max Miiller favours me with a note showing 
 that the first set, made in Canary by the pilot Nicolas da Recco in the 
 expedition of Angiolino de Tegghia de Corbizzi in 1341, are ascribed, in a 
 MS. of John Boccaccio, published at Milan in 1830, not only to Canary 
 but also to the ' altre Isole oltre Ispania nell' oceano ' as though includ- 
 ing Tenerife. This first list is as follows : 
 
 Nait = 1 Satti = 7 Amierat-marava = 13 
 
 Smetti = 2 Tamatti = 8 Acodat-marava = 14 
 
 Amelotti = 3 Aldamarava = 9 Simusat-marava 15 
 
 Acodetti = 4 Marava = 10 Sesatti-marava = 16 
 
 Samusetti = 5 Nait-Marava = 11 
 
 Sasetti = 6 Smatta-inarava = 12 
 
 On the other hand, Abreu Galindo gives as Canariote numerals : 
 
 Been = 1 Set = 8 Lini-linago = 22 
 
 Lini = 2 Acot = 9 Amiago = 50 
 
 Amiat = 3 Marago = 10 Beni-amiago = 51 
 
 Arba = 4 Beni-marago = 11 Lini-amiago = 52 
 
 Cansa = 5 Lini-irara n r o = 12 Beemaragoin = 100 
 
 Sumous = 6 Linago = 20 Limaragoin = 200 
 
 Sat = 7 Beni-linago = 21
 
 100 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 termination is ec. As. the latter of the two words is 
 also represented by Agone, it is evident that the 
 terminal consonantal sound was either very indistinct 
 in itself or very obscure to the Spanish ear. This ec is 
 at once suggestive of the Latin ego. And it is of little 
 importance for philological purposes whether it was 
 sounded ec, which more nearly approximates to ego, or 
 es, which would assimilate it to the isch used instead of 
 ich in certain parts of Germany, or whether the sound 
 resembled that of the corresponding Berber termination 
 in c> since the sound of the Arabic c is almost exactly 
 the same as that given by the Greeks to the y in eyco. 
 Moreover, if we accept a variant of Berthelot, and read 
 Agoney, this would only identify the suffix with the 
 Coptic or Shemitic first persons, the Latin first persons 
 perfect in i, and the English pronoun /. 
 
 Of the second person singular present we have no 
 instance, but it is possible that we have one in the past, 
 since Espinosa renders Maconanaet (Chil, 40) by ' thou 
 hast made thyself great.' This is, it must be confessed, 
 very weak, because his text in this very passage is else- 
 where (Chil, 49) represented by Chasonamet ', but it 
 has to be remarked that where he gives the same word 
 in the third person (I stay not to discuss whether 
 singular or plural) he adds an h to the t ; moreover, the 
 second person termination in t has the support ofzahanat 
 for ' thy vassal ; ' and the termination itself has the 
 inherent probability derived from its similarity to the 
 Latin tu, tuus, English, thou, thy, etc. 
 
 Of the third person there are more examples, but the 
 difficulties are almost greater, owing to the variants. It 
 must be confessed that, like the words which seem to 
 represent the second person, it also appears to end in t 
 in every case (not including the two exclamations, where,
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 101 
 
 if there is a verb at all, it would be an imperative) 
 except in four sentences, of which two have variants. 
 (1) In the sentence 'He has died and left the natives 
 orphans." Tanagaguayoch, seemingly ' He-has-died," 
 is practically the same in both texts, and both also give 
 a word in t petut or pelut, as the last, but one has 
 sahec while the other h&sfahet in the body of the sen- 
 tence. (2) NonlmnJiabet, which seems to have some 
 such meaning as ' he ruled/ has a variant of nun habec. 
 (3) The important distinction is that of Espinosa, who, 
 while he renders Maconanaet or Chaconamet by the 
 second person, carefully gives chaconameth with the 
 added h, as the third. (4) The reading of Webb and 
 Berthelot, nasethe, for the totally unpronounceable 
 nasfthc, attributed, perhaps only by the printer, to 
 Viana, gives the same third person termination in th 
 to be pronounced, as I have already remarked, like the 
 th in pothouse. Now, this word I can hardly fail, asso- 
 ciated as both are with zahana, and identical as seems 
 to be their probable meaning, to consider the same as 
 naset or nazet in the sentence regarding the brother of 
 Bencom. This mistake once discovered may explain 
 others, even without resorting to the theory of ortho- 
 graphical or typographical errors, and, under the cir- 
 cumstances, I hazard the conjecture that the third 
 person singular ended in th. It is hardly necessary to 
 point out the coincidence with the Latin or German 
 termination in t or the English in th. 
 
 Of the plural forms of the verb I have found no trace. 
 It is true that Marin y Cubas and Espinosa render Men- 
 ceyto Acoran by ' this King and GOD/ and 'this King 
 and this GOD/ so that, were these translations correct, 
 the verb following would be necessarily in the plural. 
 But it is so evident that the phrase in question simply
 
 102 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 consists of two titles in apposition, and signifies ' God 
 most high,' that the question is not worth discussion. 
 
 Of the past tense there are two instances. One of 
 these is in the double sentence ' he died . . . and 
 left.' I have already pointed to the probability of Tan 
 being a prefix indicating the past. The other is the 
 tiresome word Chasonamet, etc., where it is at least 
 probable that the Cha is only To, with the common 
 modification of the t. The n in tan may therefore be a 
 sound inserted for the sake of euphony to separate the 
 two as. I have only to add that in these words and in 
 haya and fahet or sahec, which look very like parts of 
 the verb, is to be noticed the a . which is the Coptic 
 auxiliary in the past tense. 
 
 Of the imperative there are seemingly at least two 
 instances. One of these is Arguihon, ' see ships,' the 
 old name of Santa Cruz, in which we know that guihon 
 means ships, so that ar must be the verb. The other is 
 Chucar or Chusar, in the sentence as to sparing the life 
 of Bencom's brother. It is remarkable that ar is the 
 common feature, and I am hence led to the conclusion 
 that this is a formative of the imperative, and that in 
 Arguihon the real body of the verb has been omitted 
 by ignorance and unintelligence. An imperative in ar 
 is suggestive of the imperative form in the Latin passive 
 and deponent verbs. 
 
 To these may be conjecturally added Achit in the 
 exclamation in honour of Bencorn and echey in that about 
 'living to be a slave.' Echey is avowedly not in the 
 second person, nor is Achit, though I confess that the 
 termination in t looks to me rather like it, and as if the 
 meaning were ' Life to thee.'
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 103 
 
 The Pronoun. 
 
 The variety of terminations in the words, much as 
 these may be caused by phonographic, clerical, or typo- 
 graphical blunders, and the apparent absence of any other 
 indication, induces me to consider that the personal pro- 
 noun may have been generally represented, not only in 
 the verbs, but also in the nouns, by suffixes, as in Coptic. 
 This, if the phrase be correctly given, is clearly the case 
 in zahanat, ' thy slave,' where the t is a suffix indicating 
 the second person singular. There may be a similar trace 
 of a suffix of the third person in such words as guanac, 
 guagnat, gouanac, and guanoth indicating the people or 
 the state, and in guayoch, guayoc, guyet, and guaye, 
 which seem to mean ' life '; and I have already suggested 
 that the termination may have been th. But the 
 variants before me are so great that I do not feel that 
 they warrant a conclusion. With regard to plurals, I 
 have also remarked that Quevihiera is said by Glas to 
 have meant ' your highness,' and, since it is clearly 
 -formed from Quebehi, it follows, if Glas' statement is 
 true, that era or iera is a pronominal suffix meaning 
 * your.' 
 
 The Conjunction. 
 
 There is one syllable, viz., no or na, which has the 
 appearance of the conjunction. The mistake of n for u 
 in transcripts is so common that I am inclined to suggest 
 that the original may have been uo or ua, and cognate 
 with the Coptic OYOg, the Hebrew l, the Arabic 5 , 
 and the Harakta -Berber ^. But at the same time we 
 must not forget the Latin que.
 
 104 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 I now add, for the sake of comparison with Berber, 
 from Basset's Manuel de Langue Kabyle, a few notes 
 upon the grammatical points above mentioned. The 
 reader will be able to judge for himself, by the divergence 
 or similarity, whether the latter justifies the identifica- 
 tion of Tenerifan with Berber, or whether the points in 
 question are too few or too much shared with other 
 languages, to lead to such a conclusion. In Kabyle 
 then : 
 
 There is no article of any sort or kind (p. 55). 
 
 The nouns, as far as I have observed, seem in the 
 great majority of cases to terminate in consonants. 
 
 The feminine is formed from the masculine by prefix- 
 ing and suffixing th (Greek 0), and this is the ordinary 
 rule for feminine words (55, 6). 
 
 There are no formatives of size except a diminutive 
 (57, 8), and no superlative, and the comparative is formed 
 by construction, though ai may sometimes be prefixed 
 to the adjective (68). 
 
 The plural is formed by a modification of the vowels 
 and by suffixing -n, an, en, or in (635). There is 
 no dual. 
 
 There are no case-endings. The genitive is some- 
 times indicated by mere juxta-position (somewhat, I 
 presume, as we talk of the Taff Vale Railway) and the 
 vocative has sometimes the prefix a or ai. The rest is 
 all done by prepositions, much as in English (61, 2). 
 
 In the verbs, the suffix of the first person singular is 
 the sound represented in Arabic by . The second 
 
 person is formed by prefixing th (0) and adding ^ (c?7i). 
 
 The third by prefixing y in the masculine, and th (9) in 
 the feminine (26). The past is formed by prefixing 
 the particle ay to the verb (27). In the imperative
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 105 
 
 the second person alone seems to exist : in the singular 
 it consists of the pure root ; in the plural th (0) is 
 suffixed to the masculine and mt h to the feminine (26). 
 
 The pronominal suffixes are ou or you (' my ') ; k, ik, 
 ek (m.), m, im, em (f.) (' thy') ; s, is, es (' his or her') ; 
 ennagh (c) ('our'); ennouen (m.) enkount (f.) ('your'); 
 
 ensen (m.) and ensent (f.) ' their' (12, 13). 
 
 As to conjunctions, ' and ' is usually ad, ed, or d, but 
 I find in M. Basset's edition of Loqman's Fables (372) 
 that oo () is used in the Harakta dialect. 
 
 With regard to the American theory, the Carib would 
 be the language which, on account of geographical prox- 
 imity, would first suggest itself. I have examined the 
 list of Carib words extracted by Messrs. Webb and 
 Berthelot from Col. Codazzi's Resumen de la Geographic 
 de Venezuela, and printed by them in a parallel column 
 with Canariote words. Some of these Venezuelan words 
 begin with Ch and others with Gu, and they all end 
 with vowels or s. But their weakness for the intended 
 purpose consists in the fact that none of them mean the 
 same things as the Canariote words. Many of them are 
 place names of unknown meaning, and where the mean- 
 ings are known they are never the same. Thus, guayre 
 in Canariote (it is not known to be a Tenerifan word) 
 is a social title, and guaire in Venezuelan is the name 
 of a stream : harimaguada in Tenerifan means a ' nun,' 
 and in Venezuelan Arimagua signifies 'mountains.' It 
 is not worth while going on. 
 
 With regard to grammar, I have consulted the Gram- 
 maire Caraibe published at Auxerre in 1667 by the 
 Dominican Friar Eaymond Breton at the expense of M. 
 Claude Lecler, and republished at Paris in 1878, with an
 
 106 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENER1FE. 
 
 introduction by M. Lucien Adam, who devotes himself 
 in great part to controverting the grammatical doctrines 
 of the author. 
 
 Breton (p. 7) asserts that there was an article vary- 
 ing in gender and case nominative and accusative 
 masculine I, feminine t ; plural, common nh, etc. Adam 
 (x.) contends that what Breton calls the article is a set 
 of pronouns. 
 
 The words seem almost invariably to end in vowels. 
 
 Breton asserts (9 11) that there were three genders, 
 masculine, feminine, and neuter or common. Adam (xii.) 
 denies this, but admits two classes virile (of men only) 
 and metavirile (of gods, women and everything else), and 
 adds that the ' pronominal ' characteristics of the virile 
 were i, e, I, li, and ri, and those of the metavirile o, ou, 
 t, num, rou, e.g., aparouti, ' murderer,' aparoutou, 
 ' murderess.' 
 
 There seem to have been no formatives. The degrees 
 of comparison were expressed by auxiliary words, except 
 a superlative formed by lengthening or doubling the 
 accented vowel of the positive. 
 
 There were various forms of the plural. For that of 
 nouns, the commonest is the addition of -mm, -yum, -iem, 
 or em. There was no dual. 
 
 The place of case-endings was usually taken by other 
 devices (as in English), but there was a seemingly 
 regular locative in -ta. 
 
 The verb appears to have been very complicated. It 
 was conjugated with the help of three auxiliaries, 
 roughly answering to the English do, have, and will. 
 It had pronominal prefixes, which were : sing. 1st p. n-, 
 2nd p. &-, 3rd p. masc. 1-, fern, t-', plural, 1st p. oua-, 2nd 
 p. h-, 3rd p. nha-. The imperative has only a present, 
 and was formed by a (instead of i ' do ') and the pro-
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 107 
 
 nominal prefixes, which are increased in the plural, 
 ouaman=' let us ,' homan=' do ye / nhaman= < let 
 them .' The language possessed pronominal suffixes. 
 They are farther modifications of the forms already 
 given as pronominal characteristics and prefixes. 
 
 The conjunctions were very numerous, among the 
 commonest copulars being aca, Jcia, and kiaya. 
 
 Having in mind the opinion of Mr. Glas as to Peruvian, 
 I turned in that direction. The literature bearing upon 
 the Peruvian or Quichua language is very large, and, 
 like the rest of the literature bearing upon American 
 philology, reflects great credit upon the culture of 
 Spanish scholars. As the most recent, I used the 
 Manual del Idioma General del Peru, published at 
 Cordoba, in 1889, by the Rev. Michael Mossi, Vicar of 
 Atamizki in Argentina. The subject is not a light one, 
 and both it and the peculiar scientific method used in 
 treating it were novel to me, so that I may have missed 
 some points, but, using the same terms I have hitherto 
 employed, the following is, I hope, a fair summary of 
 the points corresponding to those which I have discussed 
 with regard to the Tenerifan. 
 
 There is no article of any sort or kind. 
 
 The nouns, as far as I have observed, seem in a great 
 many cases to terminate in the vowel a. 
 
 There is no distinction of gender whatever in any 
 part of speech. 
 
 There are a very large number of formatives, of which 
 zapa (p. 66) indicates bigness, chekhamanta and huanuy 
 give a superlative sense, and haycay is used to form a 
 kind of comparative. The adjectives themselves are 
 indeclinable. 
 
 The plural is formed by adding cuna to the singular, 
 except with some special classes of nouns, one of which
 
 108 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 is that of things in pairs, when a sort of dual is formed 
 with purap. 
 
 In English we indicate the cases other than the 
 nominative and possessive hy means of words placed 
 before, which are accordingly called prepositions. In 
 Quichua this is done with the so-called ablative, but the 
 qualifying words follow instead of preceding, and Mossi 
 accordingly calls them -postpositions. -The genitive, 
 dative, and accusative have case-endings, unless, indeed, 
 these ought not also to be more properly called post- 
 positions, especially in the dative, where there are two, 
 signifying respectively to (towards) and for. These 
 case-endings are, gen. p or pa, dat. man or pac, ace. ta 
 or eta. They are the same for both singular and plural. 
 There is only one declension. In the case of nouns in 
 apposition only the principal one is declined, the others 
 being then treated as adjectives, or, as we should say, 
 * King John's crown,' declining John but not King. 
 
 There is only one conjunction for verbs, and it seems 
 to be beautifully developed, as though upon a purely 
 logical basis, like an ideal generated from a philosopher's 
 thought. It has Forms, as in the Shemitic or Slavonic 
 languages. In this conjunction, whatever the verb, the 
 forms are all arranged or encrusted upon one frame- 
 work, viz., the auxiliary verb, ca, ' to be,' the conjuga- 
 tion of which occupies thirty-six pages of Mossi's book. 
 I am only concerned with the terminations, which are 
 practically the same in every tense, 1st p. -ni, 2nd p. 
 -nki, 3rd p. -n ; 1st p. pi. -nchic or -you, 2nd p. -nhichic, 
 3rd p. -ncu. The perfect inserts -rkha before the ter- 
 mination ; the imperfect is formed from the perfect by 
 prefixing each. The imperative has a present, a simple 
 imperfect future, and two compound perfects future, all
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 109 
 
 with their numbers and persons. In the present, the 
 2nd p. sing, terminates in -ay, pi. -ychic. 
 
 As to pronouns, ' I ' is nokha; ' thou/ cam; ' he (or 
 she),' pay. They are declined, and their plurals formed 
 regularly, just as though they were nouns. Possession 
 is indicated by pronominal suffixes, as in the Shemitic 
 languages, and in Berber, Coptic, etc. These are -y 
 (' my '), -yki (' thy '), -n (' his or her '), -nchic or -yen 
 (' our '), -ykichic (' your '), -n or -ncu (' their '). There 
 are also some accusative pronominal suffixes somewhat 
 resembling those in the languages just named. They 
 are-i/H('I to thee'), -huanki ('thou to me'), -huan 
 ('he or she to me '), -sunki ('he or she to thee'), 
 -ykichic (' I to you '), -huankichic (' you to me '), 
 -huancu (' they to me '), and -sunkichic (' he or she to 
 you '). 
 
 There are numerous conjunctions, of which the sim- 
 plest are pas and huan. 
 
 While I admit that there are some points in common, 
 I must also confess that I fail to see much in this to 
 justify the idea of Mr. Glas that the Tenerifan language 
 was Quichua. It is possible that some one who has a 
 knowledge of Quichua wider than mine may be of a 
 different opinion, or that there may be some other 
 American language which may present conclusive points 
 of identity. For myself, I hardly think it would have 
 been worth my while, even had I had the time, to un- 
 dertake so vast a task as an examination of all American 
 grammars for the sake of a chance which seems to me 
 so remote. And this especially while it is possible, as 
 it still is, that the whole question may be solved by the 
 discovery of some document, such as a grammar or dic- 
 tionary made by or for some missionary, some state 
 paper such as a treaty, or the deposition of some witness,
 
 110 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 or a catechism, or even some old ritual containing those 
 portions of the services for Baptism and Marriage which 
 are used in the vulgar tongue. Even failing all these, 
 I think it can hardly be doubted, from the results 
 already attained by one or two labourers, that much 
 awaits the investigator in this field. It is a source of 
 profound satisfaction that the question is now receiving 
 attention from natives of the Archipelago, at once so 
 patriotic, so intelligent, so industrious, and so cultured 
 as the gentlemen whom I have named, and others. And 
 it is a matter of thankfulness to foreigners, that their 
 courtesy equals their culture. 
 
 In the meanwhile, I am not unconscious that, while I 
 have suggested certain Aryan analogies, especially in 
 the vocabulary, certain grammatical forms which I have 
 indicated as possible, such as a definite article in t, 
 feminines in a, and pronominal suffixes to nouns and 
 verbs, might also be interpreted as pointing rather in 
 the same direction as Coptic, and thus partially coin- 
 ciding with the Berber theory, at least as regards an 
 Hamitic origin. Some one who possesses a greater 
 familiarity with the Egyptian vocabulary than I can 
 claim, may be able to go farther in this direction. 
 Some one who knows more of comparative Aryan 
 grammar than I do, may perhaps go farther in another. 
 
 This paper is now ended. I desire to express my in- 
 debtedness to Mr. Birch, and to the gentlemen whom 
 he visited in the Canaries, for all that they have done 
 to help me in writing it. In some excuse for its many 
 deficiencies, which are my own, I may perhaps be per- 
 mitted to remark that it has been written under diffi- 
 culties of health, of journeys, and, above all, of much 
 business. Of these deficiencies I am very conscious. I
 
 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENEEIFE. 1 1 1 
 
 know that I have not made as much as can be made 
 of the materials in my hand, especially the names of 
 places. 
 
 I will only conclude by saying once more that my 
 object in compiling this paper has not been to advocate 
 any theory of my own, and still less to make a contro- 
 versial attack upon those of others, but merely to 
 analyse and comment upon some facts, in the hope of 
 attracting to the subject the attention of some better 
 qualified than myself, and by whom it may conse- 
 quently be treated with results more satisfactory than 
 mine. 
 
 It may be a convenience to the English reader to 
 mention that the full title of the work so frequently 
 quoted in the preceding pages, and upon which they 
 are mainly based, is Estudios Historicos, Climatolo- 
 gicos y Patologicos de las Islas Canarias, por D. 
 Gregorio Chil y Naranjo, Doctor en Medicina y 
 Cirujia, etc., etc., and that the agents for its sale are 
 at 
 
 Las P almas de Gran-Canaria, Imprenta de La 
 Atlantida, Calle de Enmedio, 1. 
 
 Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Libreria D. de Jose Benitez, 
 Calle de San Francisco, 8. 
 
 Cddiz, Libreria de D. Manuel Morillas, Calle de San 
 Francisco, 36. 
 
 Madrid, Libreria de los Sres. Gaspar y Roig, Izqui- 
 erdo, 4. 
 
 Barcelona, Libreria de D. Eusebio Biera, Robador, 
 
 2426.
 
 112 ANCIENT LANGUAGE OF TENERIFE. 
 
 And at 
 
 Paris, Ernest Leroux, Libraires-Editeurs, Rua Bona- 
 parte, 28.
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 TT is generally found to be the rule in modern times, 
 -*- as it was in those of the ancients, that the build- 
 ings dedicated to religion are of greater architectural 
 importance than those intended for domestic purposes. 
 The Athens of to-day is likely to strike the traveller as 
 offering an exception to this rule. The larger houses 
 are, almost without exception, classical in design, gener- 
 ally graceful, and not rarely sumptuous ; and the effect 
 of the multitude of such structures, with the marble 
 material profusely lavished upon them, often relieved 
 by brilliant colour and gold, gleaming among foliage in 
 the lucid Attic atmosphere, is probably, as far as it 
 goes, unequalled in Europe. It is true that the size 
 and number of the churches attest the religious spirit 
 of the people, and they also share in the stores of marble 
 to an extent which would almost constitute splendour 
 were it not for the contrast with their worldly neigh- 
 bours. In contradiction to the style of the secular 
 buildings, so sympathetic with the genius of the spot, 
 it seems to be considered a kind of profanity to employ 
 any but the Byzantine architecture for ecclesiastical 
 purposes. Where the walls are plastered, they are even 
 in one or two cases, by a strong Orientalism, painted in 
 horizontal stripes of pale primrose and dusky red. But 
 hardly any attention seems to be bestowed upon the 
 study of the Byzantine style. There is no attempt to 
 
 H 113
 
 114 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 imitate the best models, and that, not only those of 
 other countries, but even those which are at hand, such 
 as St. Nicodemus or the Abbey Church of Daphni. 
 The ' aeriel ' dome, that representative firmament super- 
 imposed above the earthly worshippers, is reduced to 
 the character of an architectural protest. The nave is 
 prolonged, and the narthex diminished, if not entirely 
 extinguished, until the whole assumes (mirabile dictu) 
 the form of a Latin cross, and the galleries which fill 
 the aisles and end are suggestive of the Georgian epoch 
 in England. The low dome and its apologies for tran- 
 septs are sometimes succeeded (as, for instance, at St. 
 Irene's) by a regularly railed and stalled chancel after 
 the Latin manner, and the view ends with a screen, too 
 often of thoughtless design, behind which the existence 
 of the sanctuary and its parabemata is known rather 
 through the intellect than the senses. With the ex- 
 ception of an occasionally splendid silver bas-relief over 
 a religious picture,"'' and some isolated lamps, em- 
 broideries, and wood-carvings, the decoration, and 
 especially the painting, where it is attempted, shows a 
 great decadence from mediaeval models. The Cathedral, 
 although lacking in thoughtfulness of design, offers a 
 considerable exception. It is lofty, and the relative 
 importance of the dome makes the general effect 
 imposing. The whole interior, except where of marble, 
 is strongly coloured and gilt, and, although defective in 
 tone, the general result of this attempt to copy the 
 
 * These bas-reliefs would in themselves form a most interesting study. 
 Like the rest of Byzantine art, they appear to be instinct with classical 
 tradition. The relief is about the same as that of the great Panathenaic 
 frieze ; and some of the finest examples, such as those of silver-gilt (or 
 gold ?) upon the lower part of the eikonostasion in the Church of the Holy 
 Sepulchre at Jerusalem, are upon about the same scale as regards the pro- 
 portion of the human figure.
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 115 
 
 ancient models is by no means unsuccessful. The 
 galleries are, in their way, really fine ; and the screen, 
 a wall of white marble picked out with bright colours 
 and gold, does not altogether fail to suggest the 
 decoration of the period of Phidias, though the second 
 tier of images, being placed in circles instead of squares, 
 mars the effect upon the eye by breaking the ascending 
 lines.* There are also some few others, such as the 
 newly-rebuilt Church of St, Michael and St. Gabriel, 
 near the gate of the Agora, which is skilfully designed 
 (Romanesque or Norman outside, rather than Byzan- 
 tine, especially the fagade and transepts), and the 
 internal colouring of which has at least the merit of 
 good intentions ; and the new Church of the Virgin of 
 the Golden Grotto, in the Hodos Aiolou, the interior of 
 which is effective. 
 
 By the artist and the antiquary, however, the 
 modern churches of Greece must be viewed with a 
 grudge, which a much greater amount of aesthetic merit 
 than they possess would be powerless to dispel. The 
 main source from which the means for constructing the 
 Cathedral were drawn, was the suppression of the 
 Abbey of Kaisariane', of which, however, the buildings 
 and the church, the latter replete with good frescoes, 
 have fortunately escaped destruction. This good for- 
 tune has, unhappily, been exceptional. A decree of 
 Otho I., dated May 20, 1836,t placed at the disposal of 
 
 * Of course, these would be exeused by an appeal to the busts in circles 
 in the mediaeval mural decoration ; but the latter are on a flat surface, 
 which makes all the difference. 
 
 tThis appears to be the decree vaguely indicated by Mommsen (Athence, 
 Christiance, p. 6) where he says, ' After the Turks ravished Athens in 1821, 
 the churches which were then wrecked were not only not all repaired, but 
 as the number of churches and chapels seemed excessive and useless, a
 
 116 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 the Ministry of Public Worship every ruined church in 
 Greece, however important historically or however 
 precious artistically, as a mine for the building of new 
 places of public worship, the new University of Athens, 
 etc. The decree is conceived as if no such things PS 
 History or Art existed. The results have been terrible, 
 and Finlay, as an eye-witness, speaks (iv. 171) of ' the 
 destruction of numerous medieval churches which 
 formed a valuable link in the records of Athens, and an 
 interesting feature in Athenian topography, while they 
 illustrated the history of art by their curious and some- 
 times precious paintings. But in the space of a few 
 years, the greater and most valuable part of the paint- 
 ings has disappeared ; and hundreds of sculptured 
 monuments of Byzantine and Frank pride and piety 
 have been broken in pieces, and converted into building 
 materials or paving-stones.' But Finlay fails to esti- 
 mate yet another aspect from which these buildings 
 ought to have been regarded with scrupulous reverence, 
 viz., their value as throwing light upon the classical 
 period. Their sites and materials were in many cases 
 those of the classical shrines which they replaced, and 
 their pictures most interesting examples of late classic 
 or mediaeval painting, the only vehicle in which we 
 have had handed down to us by tradition, the prin- 
 ciples of the artistic schools of Zeuxis or Apelles. 
 
 decree made before 1840 ordered that there should not be in Athens more 
 than twelve churches and twenty-three officiating priests ; more than 
 seventy churches were set aside for destruction, their materials being to 
 be brought to the site of the proposed new Cathedral (Aldenhoven's 
 Itinerary, p. 14). Thus many were destroyed and entirely removed, and 
 of others the walls only remain, though some are still intact or have 
 been restored and embellished.' But the restoration and embellishment 
 are open to at least as much criticism as are similar proceedings in 
 England.
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 117 
 
 The truth is that Hellas, conscious of having been 
 born again, and sharing some of the recklessness as well 
 as the hopefulness of youth, has her eyes fixed chiefly 
 upon the future, and looks to the past mainly to find 
 the highest standard of glory to which her ambition 
 may aspire. The state of mind can be paralleled only 
 faintly by the difference of sentiment with which an 
 healthy Scotchman contemplates the respective reigns 
 of Robert T. and of Queen Anne. To the modern 
 Hellen the period which is the subject of grateful study 
 may be said to close with the triumph of Philip of 
 Macedon and to open again with the present century. 
 As in Art, the eye which has been enlightened by the 
 sight of the Parthenon, and has learnt to distinguish 
 sharply between the periods of Phidias and Praxiteles, 
 looks critically upon the remains of the Olympian 
 Temple and the buildings of Herod, and contemptuously 
 upon the arch of Hadrian, so for the Hellen of the new 
 morning the monuments of the twilight and the night 
 of his people excite only a languid interest, indifference, 
 or actual dislike. From the loss of her freedom till the 
 Latin capture of Constantinople, Hellas suffered more 
 and more under the debasing idea of Imperial cen- 
 tralization,* of which the transference of the seat of 
 
 * Note the remark of Finlay (ii. 143) ' Theophilus observed that the 
 population of the empire was everywhere suffering from the defects of the 
 central government, and he was anxious to remedy the evil. He errone- 
 ously attributed the greatest part of the sufferings of the people to the 
 corruption of the administration, instead of ascribing it to the fact that 
 the central authorities assumed duties which they were unable to execute, 
 and prevented local bodies who could easily have performed these duties 
 in an efficient manner, from attempting to undertake them.' ' It has been 
 lon<j ago shown by historians,' says Mahaffy (Social Life in Greece, p. 145), 
 * that a quantity of neighbouring contesting States of small dimensions are 
 infinitely more stimulating to human culture, than the great centralised 
 empires of modern Europe. Now everybody and everything goes asleep
 
 118 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 empire from old to new Rome served but little to 
 modify the essentially alien character. It was the 
 fault of the Latin Princes that their rule also was that 
 of strangers in a strange land. How far considerations 
 of political economy may have justified them in setting 
 up in Greece a purely feudal polity, is a question which 
 it is not necessary here to discuss. Ecclesiastically, it 
 is plain that, in order to carry out their own principles, 
 their object must or ought to have been, to promote the 
 Unia, and in that way to attain the threefold object of 
 uniting all Christiandom under the jurisdiction of the 
 Roman Pontiff, of developing a strong, united, and 
 patriotic Hellas, and of opposing a powerful barrier to 
 the threatening flood of Turanian pollution and de- 
 gradation. Clearly, then, their first duty was to set 
 the example of embracing the Unia themselves. But 
 they did nothing of the sort. They started a purely 
 Latin Hierarchy of their own.t The Parthenon became 
 a Latin Church. It is true that the action of these 
 Princes towards those of their subjects who rejected the 
 Communion of Rome, was not such as to draw upon 
 
 in the provinces ; then there were no provinces for men to sleep in. 
 Capitals abounded, centres of art and of politics abounded, and life attained 
 an intensity in all directions which we moderns in vain attempt to realize ; 
 . . . . even their local tyrants, .... did a great deal for art 
 and literature ; for local tyrants, with their rivalries and competitions, are 
 never so benumbing to culture as the great central despots, who are ab- 
 sorbed in military projects, and kill every higher ambition for the sake of 
 conquest.' 
 
 f This Hierarchy is still represented (besides its ghost in partibus) by an 
 Archbishop of Athens, an Archbishop of Corfou with a suffragan in 
 Zakynthos, and an Archbishop of the Archipelago (Naxos) with four 
 suffragans, including one at Chios ; but these Prelates and their flocks, 
 at least in the mainland and the Seven Islands, are now quite imdistin- 
 guishable from the rest of the Hellenes, except by their religious peculi- 
 arties and the fact that some of the families bear surnames indicating a 
 Latin origin.
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 119 
 
 them the popular opprobrium which still attaches, for 
 the contrary reason to the Catholics of England and the 
 Anglicans in Scotland ; but their whole attitude was 
 such as to justify the popular view of their epoch as an 
 epoch of foreign domination. Whatever applied to 
 them in this sense, applied d fortiori to the other Latin 
 rulers. That the period of Turkish rule should be re- 
 garded with a feeling of horror almost too deep for 
 words, needs no explanation. * Thus it has come about 
 that Greek sentiment attaches itself almost exclusively 
 to the buildings and art of a period which closed long 
 before the Christian era, and that all else is regarded 
 (ignorantly, unscientifically, perhaps, but naturally) 
 with varying shades of contempt, indifference, or dislike. 
 Under the circumstances, it is certainly deeply to be 
 regretted that the classical styles should be held as in- 
 capable of baptism, and such buildings as we see, 
 accepted at Athens, where the Madeleine of Paris or 
 the Isaac Church of Petersburg would be rejected. 
 But, at any rate, it is to be deplored that, if the 
 Byzantine style is considered worthy to be employed, it 
 should be considered unworthy of thorough study. And 
 most of all is it to be deplored, from the point of view 
 of history and of art, that the public interest in such 
 things has not sufficiently advanced to appreciate the 
 remarkable monuments which actually exist, or which 
 have unfortunately been already allowed to disappear, 
 
 * Athens still contains a few Turkish buildings, mostly mean, but the 
 principal one, formerly a mosque, which adjoins the north-west angle of 
 the so-called Stoa of Hadrian, and is, like most Turkish mosques, a de- 
 praved imitation of the design of a Byzantine church, has some architec- 
 tural pretensions, and cannot have been wanting in internal effect. It is 
 to be hoped, from an historical point of view, that these buildings will not 
 be allowed entirely to disappear.
 
 120 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 and which, from so many points of view, claim both a 
 careful preservation and a respectful study. 
 
 Of the ancient churches of Athens, some have en- 
 tirely disappeared and been replaced by entirely new 
 buildings ; the sites of some are still marked by traces 
 of foundations or by some little commemorative shrine ; 
 of others, no vestige or monument remains. A second 
 class are those which are still in use, but have under- 
 gone changes and restorations very detrimental to their 
 antiquarian and artistic interest, especially as regards 
 iconography. A third class are those which are in 
 ruins. With these last alone the present paper pro- 
 poses to deal, taking first of all the Christian remains 
 found in buildings actually classical, and then the 
 ruined and ruinous churches. The group is small, and 
 it is hoped that no monuments of the kind, actually 
 existing within the limits of the present city (to which 
 these notes must be strictly confined), will be omitted, 
 though there may, on the other hand, still possibly be 
 some other remains within other buildings which have 
 escaped notice. 
 
 Before, then, turning to the existing but ruined 
 monuments of Athens of purely Christian origin, it is 
 interesting to regard those which, as already stated, are 
 associated with heathen sites. The Christians who 
 first obtained possession of these sites seem to have 
 been animated by a feeling that, having once been 
 dedicated to religion, they ought to remain dedicated 
 to it still. It will, indeed, be found an almost invari- 
 able rule in Greece that where there is a church, for the , 
 position of which it is otherwise hard to account, it is 
 found to be placed upon the site of a temple, of which 
 some remains, if only a few broken columns, are still 
 visible. The conversion of the dedications seems to
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 121 
 
 have been directed by a similar principle. Sometimes 
 the attribute venerated in the heathen deity is vener- 
 ated in the object of Christian reverence which also 
 possesses it. The chapel at Colonos which is believed 
 to mark the sanctuary of the Eumenides, where 
 Oidipous knew at length that his sorrows were ending, 
 still bears the name of the House of Mercy (Of/co? 
 'EXeoi/o-a). Thus the shrine of Zeus the Saviour be- 
 comes the Church of the Most Holy Saviour, the 
 Virgins Athena and Artemis give place to that Virgin 
 whom all generations shall call blessed, and who is the 
 same who, in another phase, succeeds Demeter as ' the 
 All- Holy One of Germination ' Havayia pXaa-rapov or 
 fiXaa-apov), the Twelve Gods are supplanted by the 
 Twelve Apostles, and St. Nicolas, instead of Poseidon is 
 invoked as mighty on the sea. The heroes of antiquity, 
 such as Theseus, yield to the triumphant heroes of 
 Faith, such as George.* Sometimes none but a 
 phonetic reason is apparent, as where Helios (''HXto?) is 
 replaced by Elias, and Dionysos by Dionysios. 
 
 One of the most interesting of these conversions is 
 that of the large grotto in the cliffs of the Acropolis, 
 immediately above the theatre of Dionysos, and just 
 under the two large isolated columns which formerly 
 bore two of the votive tripods received as prizes in the 
 choragic contests and afterwards dedicated in thanks- 
 giving to the god. This cave appears in the earliest 
 times to have been sacred to Artemis under her title of 
 Goddess of the Chase (A//crwi/a). Thrasyllus, after 
 
 * The Theseum was formerly a Church of St. George, but has now been 
 stripped, for no apparent reason, of all Christian character, although the 
 ungainly alterations in the east end remain unaltered, and the building is 
 used for nothing but to shelter a few stray antiquities which would be 
 better seen elsewhere.
 
 122 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 his choragic victory, adorned it with a beautiful facade, 
 on the top of which was a statue which seems to have 
 supported the hallowed tripod. Pausanias saw in it 
 the representation of Artemis and her brother Apollo 
 slaying the children of Niobe. Athenian mothers took 
 their children there to seek for them protection from 
 the power and pity of the goddess ; and when it was 
 turned into a church in honour of the Virgin of 
 Christian veneration, they took them there still, to put 
 them under her protection instead. The statue, become 
 headless and armless, was taken away by Lord Elgin, 
 and is now in the British Museum ; and soon after its 
 removal the faade was destroyed, with the exception 
 of the threshold and a few large pieces of marble. 
 About 1818 the cave became a stronghold, and the 
 
 O 7 
 
 greater part of the buildings of the church were then 
 demolished ; the altar, however, according to Pittaces, 
 was taken to the subterranean church of St. Marina, 
 near the Observatory, probably from an idea of keeping 
 it still in a cave. Thither the devotion has followed it, 
 and mothers bring their children, practising the singular 
 ceremony of taking off the clothes in which they have 
 been present at Mass, and dressing them in new ones 
 before leaving the church. The original grotto contains 
 now only a few remnants of the church, and a few 
 sacred picturrs, of which the coarsest and most modern, 
 as well as most prominent, represents the Assumption, 
 the titular Feast of the Shrine (Aug. 15). Its name 
 is the Panagia Chrysospeliotissa, (TLavayla Xpva-oa-- 
 TreA/or/o-o-a)' the All-Holy One of the Golden Grotto '- 
 the epithet ' golden ' probably having relation to some 
 decorations which have perished. This chapel lends a 
 most striking feature to one of the noblest of all 
 Athenian landscapes. As the city is approached from
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 123 
 
 Old Phaleron on a fine moonlight night in summer, 
 amid the glorious combination of nature and art, pro- 
 bably unequalled upon earth, and the singular and 
 admirable variety of lights with which it is enhanced, 
 the lamps burning in the sacred grotto shine out from 
 the wild cliffs of the Acropolis like a fiery star. 
 
 The cave is, roughly speaking, a sort of square. The 
 floor rises rapidly from the entrance in a series of five 
 broad sloping steps, and at the back the rock forms a 
 sort of shallow terrace about seven feet high. The 
 surface exhibits everywhere signs of cutting, which 
 probably date from Pagan times. Within the remains 
 of the ancient facade, and after the first step or level, 
 seems to have been the wall of the church, with a door 
 in the middle, which was approached by steps, now 
 entirely destroyed. Of this wall only the eastern half 
 remains. It preserves one jamb and part of the threshold 
 of the door, and is marked by a large mediaeval picture 
 of St. Nicolas, nearly effaced by visitors' names. Above 
 the picture is a little window. A small wall like a 
 buttress may perhaps have formed one side of the porch. 
 It bears the remains of a very well-executed figure of 
 St. John the Baptist, by the same hand as the St. 
 Nicolas ; behind it, the plaster is very rough, and there 
 may have been a cupboard or closet, certainly not an 
 exposed place. The door, on the jamb of which is a 
 mutilated picture of St. Spyridon, is considerably raised 
 above the surface of the rock, and must have opened 
 upon a levelled floor, formed by filling up the slope 
 northwards, and thus obtaining, on the breadth of three 
 of the ascending steps, the necessary space of the chapel. 
 Immediately on the right on entering, against the inside 
 of the wall, and quite beneath the level of the former 
 floor, is a large sarcophagus, now empty, lidless, and
 
 124 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 broken, but evidently in its place, and doubtless once 
 containing the body of some pious Christian specially 
 connected with the chapel. On the wall above, west of 
 the window, is the half-length figure of some Bishop- 
 Saint, looking eastward. The name can no longer be 
 read, but in the hands is a scroll on which is written an 
 abbreviated phrase from the prayer of the First Anti- 
 phon in the Greek Mass ' For Thine is the might, and 
 Thine is the kingdom, the Father's, and the Son's.' At 
 the east end of this wall there is an indication of a 
 partly apsidal form having been given to the sanctuary. 
 The chapel itself was bounded on the north by another 
 wall, towards which the floor must have risen a little. 
 It is to a great extent entire. In the middle of it are 
 the remains of a picture by another artist, representing 
 the three angels entertained by Abraham sitting at a 
 table, a subject which is largely used in Oriental art to 
 indicate the Holy Trinity. This picture must have 
 directly faced the outer door, and just to the east of it 
 are the indications of the screen, probably a light one 
 of wood, which has joined the outer wall close to the 
 door, on the immediate right of any one entering. 
 Towards the east, that is, at the north-east corner of the 
 sanctuary, are the remains of an arch opening into a 
 natural hollow of the rock adorned by a small niche 
 (possibly of pagan times), which seems to have been 
 adapted as the Chapel of the Credence. In the west 
 end of this north wall is a large arch, the spandrils of 
 which have been adorned with painting, now terribly 
 destroyed. That to the right represents St. John the 
 Evangelist, and is very remarkable on account of the 
 draperies, which show a close study of the classical 
 sculpture. It is possibly of the twelfth century. The 
 arch itself leads into a large hollow in the rock, in the
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 125 
 
 lower part of wliich an opening nearly closed shows a 
 large crevice or continuation of the cave. This crevice, 
 singularly enough, seems to have escaped the notice of 
 antiquaries. To the right a flight of steps leads up to 
 the rock terrace already mentioned, which, in the days 
 of the church, must have formed a sort of gallery. It 
 now contains only a few sacred pictures, of which one, 
 broken in two, and deeply begrimed, is a remarkable 
 work of early Byzantine art, executed upon a ground of 
 silver leaf. 
 
 When the Parthenon came into use as a church, the 
 changes made in it seem to have been very slight. 
 What they precisely were is a matter of dispute.* In 
 any case, however, it is certain that the principal 
 entrance was transferred from the east to the west end, 
 the east end was closed, and the new sacred objects 
 were placed at the east end of the hekatompedon instead 
 of at the west, where the ancient ones had stood. At 
 
 * It depends upon disputed questions concerning the original arrange- 
 ment of the building, such as, Had the opisthodomos originally any 
 entrance from the west ? Had it any opening into the hekatompedon, 
 and, if so, was it by a door in the middle, behind the chryselephantine 
 image, or by two doors close to the north and south walls ? Did the 
 arcades of internal columns originally run round behind the image, or was 
 what Wheler saw the remains of a Christian gallery for women ? The 
 original east door appears also to have been at some time destroyed, for 
 the purpose of making it wider (Qu. into a round-headed sanctuary arch ?) 
 and a small apse thrown out eastward, partially engaging the two central 
 pillars of the pronaos. Without going into these questions, the writer 
 cannot but express the belief that the latter changes must have been so 
 prejudicial to the artistic merit of the building that he is disinclined to 
 ascribe them to the time of the original conversion, especially as the desired 
 end could have been equally obtained by simply closing the great East 
 door, and filling up the inside of the doorway within. The apse was 
 adorned with a gold mosaic, the principal figure of which was a represen- 
 tation of the Blessed Virgin. When the Parthenon became a mosque, 
 this mosaic was spared, seemingly from some superstitious motive, and 
 some scraps of it were still lying about within living memory.
 
 126 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 this time the opisthodomos was first thrown open to the 
 public and became a kind of narthex. It is precisely 
 the western part of the opisthodomos which is the only 
 portion of the cella now left standing to any consider- 
 able height. The polished internal surface of these 
 walls is covered with Christian paintings, which, 
 although in a lamentable state of decay, and additionally 
 marred in consequence of having been plastered over by 
 the Turks, enable the student to recognise the hands of 
 at least two artists of different periods, and one portion 
 of which viz., that on the north wall is unrivalled in 
 interest among the paintings of Athens. The style 
 indicates a very early period, even if these designs do 
 not actually date from the period of the conversion of 
 the building to Christian uses. The paintings on the 
 west and south walls are much later ; the wall is there 
 marked out into large rectangular divisions by strong 
 red lines, surrounded by busts enclosed in large red 
 circles. The spaces inside the straight lines have been 
 filled with pictures of Scriptural subjects, in large masses 
 of paint, backgrounds and all, on a much smaller scale 
 than that of the busts, and the inside of the circles con- 
 taining the busts, has likewise been painted over. Of 
 the subjects, only a few isolated figures and, to the south 
 of the door, the group commonly called the ETnra^xo? 
 Qpijvos, can be made out. The manner in which the 
 paint has been applied to the surface shows a most pain- 
 ful want of appreciation of the precious beauty of the 
 material, and was perhaps partly caused by the desire 
 to efface the earlier designs, of which, however, a few 
 traces seem to be still recognisable. The whole bears 
 the marks of having been restored at different times, 
 and a bit of decoration at the south-west angle is about 
 as bad as can be imagined. Even the north wall has
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 127 
 
 not escaped restoration. The work is in such a state 
 that it is not easy to judge very accurately of the original 
 colours employed, but a coarse green which appears in 
 some places has every sign of being an addition, and 
 much doubt must be felt as to a purple, chiefly con- 
 spicuous in the heavy line of demarcation drawn between 
 the figures of the lower and of the two upper tiers, 
 which is itself somewhat suspicious. 
 
 That the interior walls of the Parthenon, as well as 
 of similar buildings, were painted, is known, and the 
 peculiar manner of treatment is a study of much 
 interest. The principle of the ancients in such matters 
 was the same as that which prevailed in the best period 
 of art of Western Christendom the French art of the 
 thirteenth century. Where the material was stone or 
 plaster, it was entirely covered with paint and colour ; 
 but where it was in itself precious and beautiful, as 
 marble or ivory, the colour was only used in lines and 
 isolated spots such as the folds of drapery, and thus, 
 like a face-patch upon a delicate skin, enhanced instead 
 of concealing the beauty of the surface. The remarks 
 of classical writers and what is known of the pigments 
 employed, alike lead us to recognise a small but admir- 
 able expression of these principles in the exquisite 
 picture of women playing at knuckle-bone, executed in 
 deep red lines upon a white marble slab, which forms 
 one of the artistic treasures of the great museum at 
 Naples. To the student of English mediaeval art, this 
 classical treatment is of special interest as being doubt- 
 less the source whence are derived those wall-paintings 
 in red, assisted with yellow and black, upon a white 
 surface, with which so many of the English churches 
 are adorned.
 
 128 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATtlENS. 
 
 That the original paintings of the inner walls of the 
 hekatompedon were thus treated on an heroic scale, is, 
 antecedently, almost overwhelmingly probable, and it is 
 therefore a fact of the deepest artistic interest to find 
 that such is the treatment adopted upon the north wall 
 of the opisthodomos by the Christian artist. The con- 
 clusion is almost inevitable that when he was employed 
 to decorate the virgin surface of the walls of the opis- 
 thodomos, he imitated the ancient decoration of the 
 hekatompedon. In striking conformity with the great 
 picture by Polygnotus at Delphi, described by Pausanias, 
 the whole is divided into three tiers, above a space at 
 the bottom which doubtless contained indications of a 
 dado. The lower tier of figures, as has been remarked, 
 is separated from the others by a line of decoration of 
 more doubtful antiquity. The figures themselves are 
 rather above life-size. They are boldly sketched in red. 
 Whether a sort of orange has also been employed is 
 difficult to tell, on account of the tone which the Pentelic 
 marble itself assumes after the lapse of ages. These 
 figures are not even united in groups, as in the work at 
 Delphi, but stand simply facing the spectator in atti- 
 tudes of repose and dignity. That names were originally 
 attached to them is probable, but if so, they have dis- 
 appeared, and the whole work is indeed in such a con- 
 dition of decay that it affords little more than indica- 
 tions from which it is possible to recognise the principles 
 upon which it has been executed. 
 
 On the western exterior wall of the Parthenon, south 
 of the door, and at a considerable height from the 
 ground, is a small mediaeval sketch in red outline, which 
 seems to have represented the Blessed Virgin and Child 
 enthroned, with an Angel approaching on either hand. 
 On the opposite (north) side are several inscriptions in
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 129 
 
 black letter (Gothic), but they are now apparently 
 illegible. 
 
 The ancient fountain, Klepsydra, at the lower part of 
 the rock of the Acropolis, nearly underneath the cave 
 of Pan, is covered by some Christian remains. The 
 fountain is reached by a long series of ruinous steps, 
 descending from close to the base of the ugly Roman 
 pedestal in front of the Pinakotheke of the Propylaia. 
 It is a small dark cell or grotto, so small that it is 
 difficult to believe that it could ever have been used as 
 a church. The sides and rounded roof are plastered and 
 covered with frescoes, which are obscure almost beyond 
 recognition. They are much decayed. It is so dark as 
 to make it hard to see them ; and to hold a candle to 
 them tends still more to blacken them by the smoke. 
 There seem to be at least two layers of plaster, both 
 painted. On the north side is a Christ enthroned be- 
 tween two Saints ; that to the east being a Bishop or 
 Priest. At the east end (close to the door) a figure is 
 said to be that of the Blessed Virgin. 
 
 The building now commonly called the Stoa of Hadrian* 
 affords a remarkable instance of Byzantine painting 
 upon plaster. From some of the details it would appear 
 to be as late as the fifteenth century, but it is of great 
 intrinsic merit, and shows a thoughtful study of the 
 antique. The actual structure to which these works 
 belonged was probably the church of St. Michael 
 , which is supposed to have been 
 
 *The weed-grown enclosure behind the cobblers' stalls, where these 
 paintings are, is full of ancient fragments, many of which relate to the 
 Eleusinian mysteries. If they were found in the neighbourhood, they 
 supply a clue to the position of the Eleusinion, and hence of the Agora. 
 It is interesting to note that the distance is not great to the Parish Church 
 of the Panagfa Blastdron, the title by which the Blessed Virgin usually 
 succeeds Demeter. 
 
 I
 
 130 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 standing as late as 1840, although it is impossible to 
 conjecture how a church can have been placed in this 
 exact position, except upon the hypothesis that this 
 was one of the very rare instances in which an Oriental 
 church is turned toward the North instead of the East.' 55 ' 
 The remains, such as they are, seem patient of no other 
 idea, unless that the place was a mere oratory, which 
 seems still less likely. They occupy the south end of 
 the part of the Stoa now visible, viz., that to the north 
 side of the west gate, and enclose two of the seven 
 great smooth monolithic columns of cippolino marble. 
 A third column is engaged in a mass of rough stone- 
 work bearing traces of plaster and paint, which seems 
 to be the remains of the north wall of the church, and 
 is now broken oif just where it shows the commence- 
 ment of an apse or niche of elegant form, adorned with a 
 small side apse or niche at its south-east corner. This 
 apse directly faces what seems to have been the main 
 door, upon the south, the side-posts of which are small 
 ancient fluted columns, both plastered and painted over 
 with red flute-like streaks, the eastern resting against 
 the great spur to the north of the gate of the Stoa, and 
 the western against the survivor of the great fluted 
 Corinthian columns outside. South of these again 
 the wall of the Stoa shows traces of a porch or exonar- 
 thex. On the hypothesis of a northern orientation 
 the two cippolino monoliths must have filled the places 
 of two of the four piers of the dome (supposing there to 
 have been one), and the two opposite piers were pro- 
 bably of rough stone, plastered and painted, the desire 
 for harmony with which perhaps accounts for the 
 
 * Another instance will be noticed in the side chapel of the church of 
 the M.tyd\r] Uavayia in the Bazaar.
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 131 
 
 beautiful surface of the cippolino itself having been, at 
 least in the case of the southern monolith, plastered 
 and painted also. The wall of the Stoa between the 
 two cippolino columns bears traces of some late and 
 very inferior painting, of which it is hard to conjecture 
 the subject ; the pictures to which we now draw atten- 
 tion are in what seems to have been the narthex, 
 between the southern cippolino column and the spur ; 
 the shape of the painting in this case, as in the next 
 bay, shows the roof to have been arched, but much 
 higher than in the central bay. The plaster does not 
 reach the angle, and the space so left was doubtless 
 filled with masonry. The remains of painting at the 
 side of the door, above the level of the lintel, seem to 
 indicate a composition again much larger, facing the 
 altar, and filling the end of a large arched roof some- 
 what similar to the nave of a Western Church. The 
 west side doubtless corresponded to the east. That at 
 least several more paintings by the same hand as the 
 one entire work and one fragment which still remain, 
 have been irrevocably lost to art, is well-nigh certain, 
 and the fact is a most melancholy proof of the absence 
 of knowledge and culture when they were allowed to 
 perish.* 
 
 The subject of the painting over the door it is now 
 impossible to tell, as only a very small part remains, 
 representing several figures in long robes (Qu. Jewish 
 Priests ? ), and two Roman soldiers in the background. 
 It may have been a Crucifixion. The colouring, with- 
 out being glaring, is exceedingly bright. The picture 
 is raised upon a broad band, now grey, but once possibly 
 
 * Of course, in this and some other cases, the church could hardly have 
 been allowed to remain to block' up the colonnade, but the paintings 
 should have been removed and preserved.
 
 132 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 black, upon which are a series of busts in circles, sur- 
 rounded by foliage, and linked together by wreaths. 
 This band, which is about twelve feet above the ground, 
 and has surmounted some painted decoration (appar- 
 ently a row of figures) now destroyed, is continued 
 under the remaining picture. The colour is here indis- 
 tinguishable from black, and the general effect is ex- 
 tremely suggestive of much of the Pompeian decoration. 
 The circles are here united, not by wreaths, but by 
 roses. The circles are alternately grey and russet, and 
 each contains three shades, lightening from the centre 
 to the circumference. They bear half-length figures of 
 martyrs, in varying attitudes, and very well executed. 
 Of the five remaining, only the names of the second and 
 fourth Akindynos and Elpidephbros are entirely 
 legible; the others read ***mardarios, ***iasios, and 
 Alp***. The large picture above is divided by a per- 
 pendicular line into two portions, representing respec- 
 tively two of the scenes in the Garden the Agony and 
 the Betrayal. The skill with which the effect of night 
 is here given is very striking ; its obscurity had to be 
 avoided, and resource has therefore been had to its 
 other remarkable characteristic, that, namely, of de- 
 priving objects of their colour. In contrast to the 
 bright, almost brilliant, colour of the day-scene, these 
 pictures are almost entirely in shades of grey and dull 
 red. The ground in both cases is a dull slate-colour, 
 and in both cases there is a conventional landscape of 
 rocks in brick-dust red. 
 
 The lower foreground of the first half is mainly 
 occupied by the group of the Apostles sleeping, the 
 attitudes varied, and combined with great ingenuity, 
 while a small amount of yellow and purple tint has been 
 introduced into some of the draperies to prevent con-
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 133 
 
 fusion, on the left, the grey figure of Christ advances to 
 reproach them. Higher up, withdrawn from the group 
 below, is the Christ again, still grey, kneeling in prayer, 
 bowed down with sorrow. But it is in the treatment of 
 the last scene of the Agony that the thoughtful power 
 of the artist is most fully manifested. As the most 
 sacred, it is the highest and the most refined, but at 
 the same time, by a skilful change in colour, it most 
 attracts the eye. At the top of the composition, 
 farthest withdrawn behind and above the group in the 
 foreground, the Christ kneels once more alone in prayer, 
 pourtrayed in black and red ; the figure upright, the 
 face thrown upwards, the arms extended and half- 
 raised ; and an angel, appearing from the darkness on 
 the right, in the colouring of black and red, which 
 marks the group apart, holds the Cross before His 
 eyes. 
 
 In the scene of the Betrayal, on the spectator's right, 
 the same dull red landscape is continued. In the right 
 hand corner, but as an episode altogether inferior in 
 importance to the principal, Peter is cutting off the ear 
 of Malchus. The middle of the composition is filled 
 with the armed multitude, in front of whom Judas is 
 giving the kiss. In the treatment of the large mass of 
 figures it has evidently been remembered that the in- 
 dividuals of a moving crowd leave a less distinct 
 impression upon the eye, unless particularly followed, 
 than those of a group in stillness ; accordingly, each 
 figure is drawn carefully, so that it can be followed 
 when attention is given to it, but there is not the same 
 variation in tints as in the group of the Apostles sleep- 
 ing. The figures in the upper part of the other com- 
 position are counterbalanced by a half-length figure of 
 David, who, as it were from the remoteness of prophecy,
 
 134 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 contemplates the event which the scroll in his hand 
 predicts, and whose presence enforces on the spectator 
 the remembrance of the supernatural importance of the 
 scene. He is, as it were, peering over the mountains, 
 and a certain amount of brighter red in the grey of his 
 garments saves the equality of the compositions on both 
 sides. 
 
 Within the same group of ancient remains to which 
 the term ' Stoa of Hadrian ' is vaguely applied, is the 
 Church of the MayaXrj TLavayia. It is in the very 
 midst of the Bazaar, behind the row of shops, and a 
 little west of the wretched little clock- tower by which 
 Lord Elgin chose to commemorate his removing from 
 Athens the most valuable sculptures in the city. The 
 days of this church are probably numbered, and it is 
 already in such a state of ruin that there is little to 
 preserve ; but the fact lends an additional interest to it 
 at the present moment.* As soon as the new Public 
 Markets of Athens are completed, the Bazaar will be 
 entirely suppressed, and the area now occupied by it 
 given over to the excavations of the Archaeological 
 Society, who are not likely in this case to falsify their 
 reputation that the first thing they always do is to pull 
 down a church.t The gain accruing to historical science 
 and, in all probability, to art, from the demolition of the 
 
 * These words are left as they were written, but since they were put on 
 paper, an accidental conflagration has burnt out the whole of this part of 
 the Bazaar. Lord Elgin's clock-tower has been pulled down. The Church 
 of the MegdAe Panagfa was much injured and blackened. Fortunately, 
 very careful and excellent water-colour drawings of the decoration of the 
 dome had just been made by the Swiss artist, M. E. Gillie'ron of Athens. 
 The scaffolding he had used was still standing in the church, and assisted 
 by its conflagration, to complete the ruin of the frescoes. 
 
 t It has very likely already disappeared. If so, the above is a descrip- 
 tion of a thing of the past.
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 135 
 
 actual Bazaar will be very great, and that to the beauty 
 and interest of Athens hardly less so. The extra- 
 ordinary amount of rubbish accumulated on the spot is 
 shown by the fact that the floor of the church is 
 some fifteen feet below the present level of the 
 ground. 
 
 The visitor, after passing between two of the booths, 
 descends a flight of seven steep steps, and finds himself 
 standing before a row of three ancient (fluteless) pillars 
 with Doric capitals, ending on his right hand (east) in 
 an attached pilaster, the whole still supporting the 
 original architrave, upon which now stands the simple 
 mediaeval belfry, of a regular Gothic design, consisting 
 of a simple pointed arch, the space above which has 
 been decorated with three porcelain plates inserted in 
 the stone-work. This colonnade was formerly beauti- 
 fully adorned with living vines, but the whole place has 
 of late years suffered severely by fire. Passing between 
 the middle columns, a descent of eleven still steeper 
 steps conducts to the marble pavement of the church, 
 through a terrace of loose stones with which the 
 southern aisle is now filled, and above which the top 
 of a little recess in the usual position of the diakonikon 
 can just be seen. The aisle is only some seven and a 
 half feet broad, and the niche in question is north of 
 the centre. The church itself is about twenty-four feet 
 long, exclusive of the apse, by twelve broad, and is thus 
 exactly a double square. Of this the western square 
 is roofless, and contains the great west door, now 
 closed on the outside, which centres, not with the nave, 
 but (nearly) with the whole breadth, including the 
 aisle. It has a white marble lintel, carved on the out- 
 side. The eastern square is covered by what remains 
 of the dome, still supported by the eastern and
 
 136 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 northern arches ; the south-west pier has given way, 
 causing a portion of the dome to fall, and there now 
 remains of that pier only the lowest block. The 
 Eastern piers are slightly marked on each side in the 
 place where the screen has apparently been fitted. 
 This screen must have been very slight, seemingly of 
 wood, not more than between seven and eight feet high, 
 and possibly altogether a later addition to the building. 
 This latter conjecture is all the more probable because it 
 presents the unique feature of the diakonikon having 
 no internal access to the bema, if, indeed, the recess at 
 the east end of the aisle was the diakonikon. The apse 
 is drawn from another arch Eastward of the piers of the 
 dome. It is well formed and high. The credence is 
 represented in it by a small niche, very like a Western 
 piscina, of which the proprietor continues to make a 
 sort of little shrine."" The interior of the apse has all 
 been plastered and painted, but these decorations have 
 now almost entirely perished ; in the upper part seems 
 to have been the usual figure of the Blessed Virgin, 
 holding her Child upon her knees, enthroned between 
 Saints Michael and Gabriel, and below, above a low 
 dado of about two feet high, a group of sainted Bishops, 
 three upon each side, approaching the Sacrament, lying 
 upon an altar in the midst. 
 
 The most interesting part of the iconography is the 
 dome, which has no proper clerestory, but has had four 
 small windows pierced in its lower part, producing 
 somewhat the same effect. The decorative treatment 
 of domes is always an interesting and difficult matter 
 
 * This shrine and its ornaments escaped in the last fire in a very singular 
 manner, which seems to have been regarded by many as miraculous. 
 Crowds visited it, and numberless tapers were lighted before it.
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 137 
 
 when a single connected subject including figures is 
 attempted, as it is not easy to find any great variety 
 supplying a central subject and a series of concentric 
 groups surrounding it.* The idea of this dome is very 
 happily conceived. The thought is taken from the 
 three last of the Psalms, which form together the 
 group called collectively the Alvot, and so popularly 
 known and used ; texts from this group are abundantly 
 introduced into the borders and upon the open spaces 
 of the deep blue background which prevails throughout 
 the treatment. In the centre is the Christ, not, as 
 usual, a bust, but full-length, enthroned, with His feet 
 resting upon the mystic winged wheels. Next comes a 
 series of nine semi-circles pointing inwards, and con- 
 taining representations of the nine Orders of the 
 heavenly Hierarchy, the names being inscribed in the 
 spandrils between the semi-circles. The scale of the 
 figures is slightly less than that of the Christ. Under- 
 neath the Angelic Hierarchy and above the windows is 
 a great circle representing the firmament, in which the 
 signs of the Zodiac are figured at regular intervals, and 
 in which are the sun, moon, and stars (Ps. cxlviii. 3). 
 The positions of the sun and moon seem intended to 
 mark the date of the Assumption (August 15). Be- 
 tween the windows are the terrestrial subjects (v. 7). 
 To the south of the east window are representations 
 of the dragons, like classical hydras ; then come the 
 deeps, as whirlpools, and strange conventional forms of 
 
 * The domes of St. Mark's at Venice are a splendid example of varied 
 ingenuity in such devices, but one of the largest collections of such designs 
 will be found in the Abbatial church of Phanerome'ne in Salamis, a church 
 which presents a most perfect and remarkable scheme of Byzantine icono- 
 graphy, not, it is true, of early or medieeval execution, but closely conser- 
 vative of the ancient rules.
 
 138 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 the fire, hail, snow, ice, and stormy winds ; then begin 
 the mountains and all hills, the fruitful trees and all 
 cedars, and here the dome has unfortunately given 
 way. The next thing is a band of Jews (v. 14), to the 
 north of the west window, next to whom are a group of 
 praiseful saints supporting a typical church (Ps. cxlix. i.). 
 Beyond this, time has been hard upon the paintings, 
 but there are still perceptible a band of virgins giving 
 praise in the dance, and groups of musicians singing 
 with instruments (Ps. cl.). The spandrils of the dome 
 seem to have been occupied, as usual, by the four 
 Evangelists. 
 
 To the north side of the main church is another, which 
 presents the very unusual feature of being turned, not 
 towards the east but towards the north, being at right 
 angles to the main building. This church centres almost 
 exactly with the main dome, and is entered from under 
 the north arch supporting it, by a low door in a wall 
 constructed almost entirely of classic fragments. To 
 the west seerns to have been a kind of narthex, twenty 
 feet long by ten broad (with a few inches over), covered 
 by a roof sloping from east to west, and opening into the 
 narthex or western half of the main church by a pointed 
 arch which is supported against the west wall by a 
 column with an Ionic capital. This narthex has an ex- 
 ternal door, and also an internal one opening into the 
 west side of the northern church, centred with its own 
 internal length, and thus directly opposite the other. 
 The interior of the northern church itself is a square 
 of about eleven feet. The east wall is mainly a fine 
 classical construction in situ, and the north the same, 
 containing a round arch both remarkably perfect. In 
 the angles have been the piers of the pointed arches 
 supporting the dome, of which a portion remains on the
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 139 
 
 north side. The form of the dome is of great boldness 
 and elegance, with a graceful clerestory pierced by high 
 lancet windows. It seems to have been perfect until a 
 recent fire, when most of it fell, and the rest is now so 
 blackened that the paintings cannot be deciphered. 
 The small round-headed classic arch of which we have 
 spoken, five and a half feet broad by three deep, is the 
 entrance of the apsidal Sanctuary, the chord of which is 
 also of five and a half feet. This apse is roughly con- 
 structed, and has been plastered. It is pierced by one 
 small window in the middle. It still contains the altar, 
 which is, like many others in Athens, a piece of a 
 classical column. 
 
 Before turning to the ancient churches of Athens, 
 now in ruins, which, although they may mark classical 
 sites, are riot accommodated in classical buildings, it is 
 well to consider for a moment the principles of the two 
 main systems of design upon which such buildings are 
 constructed, viz., the Basilican and the domed or Byzan- 
 tine. It is true that the smallest churches, whether 
 ancient or modern, are a mere oblong room with a round 
 arched roof, a door at the west end, and a small apse 
 with a window, the sill of which often forms the altar, 
 at the east ; of these, however, the examples in the city 
 are not numerous, and the form is so exceedingly simple 
 that it can hardly be said to have any style at all. By 
 the Basilican form is here meant a design comprising a 
 nave with an aisle, separated from it by pillars, upon 
 one or both sides, and no dome. This is the shape 
 familiar to the Western Christian in Gothic architecture. 
 It is well known to be an adaptation to the purposes of 
 Christian worship of the Basilicas or halls of the ancient 
 Romans, and an unbroken series of examples from within 
 pagan times downwards could be cited through classical
 
 140 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 Romanesque, Norman, and Gothic, one of the most 
 interesting being the magnificent church built by Con- 
 stantine himself at Bethlehem, and still intact and in 
 use there. But the adherence of the Occidentals to this 
 form has condemned it in the eyes of the Greeks of to- 
 day. There are hardly any monuments of it in Athens 
 which have been saved from ruin,* and the ruins them- 
 selves are sometimes of so fragmentary a character that 
 the actual form is matter of uncertainty. Where, how- 
 ever, there are no transepts, it may safely be assumed 
 that there was no dome,t nor is it hard to perceive 
 when the ground plan has not been based upon the 
 central square. 
 
 The plan of a Byzantine church, properly so called, 
 is as unvarying as that of a Greek temple. The 
 examples only differ from one another by addition or 
 development, relative importance of features, or treat- 
 ment of details. This plan consists essentially of a 
 square. Within this square is described a cross with 
 rather short arms, which leaves four small squares in 
 the corner of the great one. At the internal angle of 
 
 * Of these may be cited the churches of the Mya Jilavcrrepiov (vulgarly 
 called the ' M7tiXo Movao-r^pt ') and of St. Philip. Modern examples are 
 very scarce, although there are one or two instances where some reason 
 (probably the expense of the construction) has caused the omission of the 
 dome in buildings otherwise pseudo-Byzantine. There is a small modern 
 instance of the Basilican form in the little new church of St. Luke in the 
 northern outskirts of Patissia, on a spot where there was formerly a 
 monastery, and which is marked by abundant classical remains, among 
 the rest a curious mosaic floor, the last remnants of which are just dis- 
 appearing under the boots of the school children in whose playground 
 it is. 
 
 ti.e., originally; a dome has sometimes been introduced into the 
 middle of a Basilica, as in the Abbatial Church of the Blessed Virgin 
 styled Phaneromene (' the Manifested ') in Salamis, the alterations of 
 which date from the first half of the eighteenth century.
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 141 
 
 each of these small squares is a pillar or pier, and these 
 four pillars or piers support a dome, which has usually 
 some windows in the way of clerestory. The two side 
 limbs of the cross form transepts furnished with large 
 doors, which are now almost invariably walled up or at 
 least kept closed. At the west end are three arches, 
 one from the main limb of the cross ; the others smaller 
 and opening from the little squares. All three open 
 into a sort of corridor, or ante-chapel, called the narthex, 
 from which again open the external doors or door of the 
 church, sometimes sheltered by an exonarthex or porch. 
 At the east end is, in the middle, the bema or sanc- 
 tuary, in the form of an apse, containing the altar. On 
 the south of the sanctuary is another but smaller apsidal 
 chapel, centering with the small corner square, and 
 which is the diakonikon or vestry ; on the north side 
 another, exactly corresponding, and which is the pro- 
 thesis or chapel of the credence. There is no chancel 
 of the kind found in Latin churches.* The sanctuary, 
 the credence, and the vestry are now invariably cut off 
 from the body of the church by a screen in the form of 
 a wall pierced by three doors, one centering with each 
 apse, and the middle one consequently larger than the 
 others. This screen is called the EVofoo-racrtoi/ or image- 
 stand, and is a frame for pictures, that next the central 
 door on the south being the representation of our Lord, 
 and, next, that of the Baptist ; the first to the north, 
 the Blessed Virgin, and, next to her, the Patron Saint, 
 
 * The singers are simply grouped in front of the screen, either in one 
 mass or in two separate bodies. In a few cases some architectural pro- 
 vision for their accommodation is to be found, as in the great church 
 of the Eternal Wisdom (' St. Sophia ') at Constantinople, where they 
 seem to have been placed under the two semi-domes nearest the 
 screen, one band on either hand.
 
 142 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 or the picture representing the subject of the Patron al 
 Feast. The sanctuary, credence, and vestry com- 
 municate with one another behind the screen. 
 
 This screen is now an essential feature in all Greek 
 churches, and a considerable part of the comparatively 
 small amount of Ritual with which the Orientals are 
 burthened, consists of the directions for opening and 
 closing the doors and going in and out of them. It is, 
 however, of comparatively late introduction, and its 
 position supplies an interesting test of antiquity or usage 
 at a given time and place. Before the Iconoclastic per- 
 secution, the Oriental sanctuaries were partitioned off 
 from the rest of the church only by balustrades similar 
 to those used by the Latins (an interesting example of 
 which exists in the ancient church, discovered in the 
 excavations at Olympia), or, at most, by a balustrade 
 surmounted by an open colonnade of pillars ; and the 
 altars were concealed, when concealed at all, only with 
 veils such as the smaller one still used by the Armenians 
 or those for which the fastenings can be detected on the 
 baldaquins of some of the ancient churches of Rome. 
 The Iconoclastic persecution is remarkable as one of the 
 very few instances in which Mohammedan ideas have 
 obtained a large popularity in Christendom, but the 
 importance it has attained is probably less due to the 
 gravity of the actual principles at stake than to the 
 cruelty of the persecutors and the constancy of the 
 sufferers. However that be, the representations which 
 formed the immediate battlefield, forthwith became 
 invested with an amount of prominence in the considera- 
 tion of the victors which they have never attained in 
 the West. Now, the mildest forms of Iconoclasm were 
 the prohibitions against bringing the pictures into 
 churches ; hence the contrary practice of placing them,
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 143 
 
 as a protest, upon pillars, either already existing or 
 specially arranged, in front of the altar. Hence has 
 grown the solid wall of images which now closes the 
 view of at least the lower part of an Eastern church. 
 In order to preserve the cruciform symmetry of the 
 Byzantine architectural design, the sanctuary and its 
 side-chapels or parabemata are now thrown back, and 
 communicate with one another by doors pierced in their 
 partition walls, while the image-stand itself coincides 
 with the east side of the great square which forms the 
 basis of the whole design. Such is at least the case in 
 well-designed instances, although other and contrary 
 modern instances, not so well designed, are to be met 
 with. When, therefore, it is found that in an old 
 church the image -stand has had to be erected in such a 
 manner as to mutilate the fundamental form of the 
 church by impinging upon the great square, and even 
 sometimes engaging or altogether concealing the eastern- 
 most pair of the four great columns or piers, the conclu- 
 sion may generally be drawn that the church was 
 designed when such a screen was not contemplated, 
 either from simple antiquity or from peculiarities of local 
 usage. 
 
 The old churches at present existing in Athens are 
 unfortunately capable of an exhaustive division into two 
 classes they are either in ruins or else the interiors 
 have been newly plastered and painted or white-washed 
 in modern times. As already remarked, it is possible 
 here to discuss only the first of these classes viz., those 
 in ruins. This ruined class are the most interesting 
 
 o 
 
 from an archaeological point of view, because they are 
 the least altered and obscured as far as they remain ; 
 they alone now supply any teaching upon iconography ; 
 and their very existence is so jeopardized, that the mere
 
 144 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 writing of these lines may not improbably be a service 
 to the public of a not-distant future. 
 
 It is rumoured, for instance, that an enterprising 
 speculator in new house-building has purchased, and is 
 about to destroy, the remains of the nunnery and church 
 of St. Andrew. These buildings are within a stone's 
 throw of the small Cathedral. The place is associated 
 with the revered name of the widow lady Philothea, in 
 the seventeenth century, but some of the details of the 
 architecture and painting, especially of the refectory, 
 seem to point to a much earlier date. Probably the 
 buildings, which are clearly built for a monastic object, 
 had fallen out of use, and were appropriated by Philo- 
 thea to her own purposes. She carried on the educa- 
 tion of girls in them for twenty years, and was finally 
 murdered by the Turks somewhere outside the city.* 
 Her body was buried in the church, whence, since the 
 wreck of the building, it has been taken to the new 
 Cathedral, where it now lies buried in the diakonikon.t 
 
 The Church of St. Andrew, now roofless, and with 
 trees growing within its area, stands in the middle of 
 the court, surrounded by the monastic buildings, which 
 are now tenanted by persons of the very humblest class, 
 but who, out of their poverty, still keep their lamps 
 burning in the desolated sanctuary. This elegant little 
 Basilica is one of the most graceful ecclesiastical build- 
 ings in Athens, but its architectural affinities are 
 certainly with the Old Home rather than with the New, 
 
 * Qu. in 1685 ? 
 
 t In the small old Cathedral may be seen an interesting painting of this 
 venerable woman, presented of recent years by descendants of her family. 
 It is dated 1703, and represents her as a martyr. It is placed, like the 
 image of a Saint (so indeed she is styled upon it), upon a desk in front of 
 the screen.
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 145 
 
 and smack more of the First Constantine than of the 
 Thirteenth ; and hence, doubtless, the neglect and in- 
 difference with which it meets. It appears to have 
 possessed the remarkable Basilican feature of an atrium 
 or court before the west end, which probably had the 
 advantage of allowing the lay public access to the church 
 without entering the court of the nunnery. The inhabi- 
 tants of the nunnery, however, seem themselves to have 
 had to pass through the corner of the atrium to enter 
 the church, as there are signs of a door in the south 
 side of the atrium, but none into the church except 
 the three main portals. The size of the atrium, which 
 is twenty-seven feet broad, it is now impossible to 
 state with certainty, as it has been shaved off to 
 straighten the street : there remain eleven feet of ruins, 
 in which can be perceived several marble pillars. It 
 may perhaps have been square. The fagade is of the 
 regular Basilican form, with three doorways of large 
 hewn stones, square headed, and probably once crowned 
 with ornamental tympana. Across the front is a row of 
 holes for beams, which probably supported a slanting 
 porch, like a penthouse, but for which has been substi- 
 tuted (possibly in the time of Philothea) a small pro- 
 jecting porch, entirely covered with plaster and 
 coloured. On the inside of this porch is represented, 
 to the north, the Baptist pointing out to Andrew the 
 Lamb of God (John i. 35), and, on the south, the call 
 of the Apostle (Matt. iv. 18). Above the porch, equi- 
 distant between the row of beam-holes and the apex of 
 the gable, is a double-lighted window about three feet 
 high. The interior of the Basilica consists of a nave 
 and aisles of three bays, the whole space being 27 feet 
 broad by 27 feet up to the line of the eiknostasion, and, 
 therefore, an exact square, but the form of the aisle 
 
 K
 
 146 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 walls, which are entire, and the difference between the 
 breadth of the nave and the calculable distance between 
 the pillars, make it sufficiently evident that there can- 
 not have been a dome. The aisle walls are ten and a 
 half feet high, and pierced with three windows, at five 
 feet from the ground, one opposite each bay ; these 
 windows are one-light, and very small and simple, 
 round-headed outside, but slightly pointed within. 
 The aisle arches at the west end spring from attached 
 pilasters or responds rather more than a foot square, 
 and, like the columns, seven feet ten inches high. The 
 arches have been pointed, and above them three cleres- 
 tory windows on each side, one above each arch, the 
 whole height of the wall being from eighteen to twenty 
 feet, above which the gables rise another three or four 
 feet. The roof has been of open timber, as appears 
 from the decoration of the interior of both gables, and 
 from the places once occupied by the beams towards 
 the east end. 
 
 The sanctuary and its parabemata occupy, of course, 
 the east end, and are designed with remarkable grace. 
 The walls of division project a foot beyond the place 
 where the screen, or, rather, the three screens (one to 
 the sanctuary, one to the prothesis, and one to the 
 diakonikon), have been fixed, and thus supply two res- 
 ponds or attached piers, from which the arches spring, 
 exactly answering to those at the west end, and leave 
 free the square upon which the eye rests on entering 
 the nave. Within the screen the sanctuary is slightly 
 narrower than the nave, and the decoration has been 
 different, thus sharply dividing it from the body of the 
 church. The three chapels are six feet ten inches deep; 
 the apse of the sanctuary, contracted by an arch, a 
 farther semicircle of four and a half feet in radius, and
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 147 
 
 those of the parabemata, which are filled in with stone 
 tables, like window-sills, half that size in every respect. 
 Each parabema has also a side-table in an ogre-headed 
 niche, like a western ambry or piscina, in its external 
 wall. Each apse has one small slit-like window, deeply 
 splayed to the inside. The parabemata communicate 
 with the berna by doors, which, on the side of the 
 sanctuary, are of great elegance. In ground plan they 
 are placed in segments of a circle described from the 
 centre of the bema between them, and radiating to the 
 middle of the division-walls through which they are 
 pierced. They are six and a half feet high to the top 
 of the opening, and round-headed, the lines being con- 
 tinuous. The elevation of the whole is remarkably 
 graceful. The apses of the parabemata are six feet ten 
 inches high ; that of the bema is eleven feet up to the 
 beautiful but unpretending cornice of carved marble, 
 above which come the rounded part of the apse ; the 
 rounded parts of all three are considerably stilted (in 
 architectural language), which causes the central one to 
 rise to some five and a half feet more, instead of the 
 four and a half only, to which the radius would properly 
 entitle it. Above this central apse is a round-headed, 
 splayed, one-light window, about three feet high, equi- 
 distant from the apices of the apse and of the gable. 
 The screen itself has been a light division, doubtless of 
 wood, and only about seven feet high, thus, while ful- 
 filling its ritual object of veiling the altar, and its 
 artistic duty of lengthening and enriching the perspec- 
 tive, leaving to the eye the whole length of the upper 
 part of the building, and the benefit of the striking 
 and noble scheme of iconography with which it is en- 
 riched. 
 
 This iconographic scheme is so much obliterated by
 
 148 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 the weather that only a small part of it can now be de- 
 ciphered. The whole interior has been originally 
 plastered and painted, with the exception of the 
 portions in marble ; the timber roof was doubtless also 
 partially painted ; the floor, of which considerable 
 remains exist, has been of marble. Where the space 
 on the walls was unsuitable for figures, diaper, of a 
 rather Gothic tone, has been freely used. In the body 
 of the church there has been a painted dado all round, 
 immediately underneath the windows ; between them 
 there seem to have been historical subjects, now hope- 
 lessly obliterated ; there are even traces of figure-paint- 
 ing on the under-sides of the arches. Of the clerestory 
 walls and the spaces between the arches, there remains 
 almost nothing, and absolutely no painting of which it 
 is now possible to make out the subject. The west 
 gable wall is a little better, but even here the subjects 
 are not all beyond doubt. At each side of the main 
 door, above the dado, is a standing saint, their heads 
 above the lintel. The south side figure is a king. 
 Were they Constantine and Helen ? At the top a 
 decorative line is carried across the gable on the level 
 of the top of the side walls, which thus hits the double 
 west window at about one-third of its height ; the 
 painting above is obliterated. To this decorative line 
 two lines are drawn from the sides of the door, and the 
 whole space thus divided into three unequal divisions, 
 each of which is again divided into two. On the south 
 side, above the Constantine (?), is Christ condemned to 
 death, with Pilate washing his hands ; above, is the 
 Carrying of the Cross. In the central division, the 
 upper and main space is occupied by the Crucifixion ; 
 below is an uncertain subject, possibly the Agony in the 
 Garden. On the north side, at the top, perhaps the
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 149 
 
 subject commonly called the ^Trtrd<pio^ Qptjvos or the 
 Pietd, and below it, just above the Helen (?), the 
 Women at the Sepulchre. 
 
 The painting of the Sanctuary is the most perfect, 
 and abundantly shows that Art was here employed 
 for its noblest aim, that of raising the mind through 
 the senses, by the contemplation of things which are 
 seen to the contemplation of the things which are 
 not seen. The iconography is divided into three tiers 
 the lower, visible only within the sanctuary, aims 
 at the edification of the ministers of the altar, the 
 middle, visible to them, and less perfectly to the 
 people, sets forth the mystic power of the Liturgy, 
 while the upper and heavenly subjects are ever before 
 all. Taking them in this order, the remaining figures 
 are as follows, those of the lower tier being raised on a 
 dado about three feet high. After an effaced figure, 
 comes, on the left (west) hand splay of the door leading 
 from the sanctuary to the credence, the Deacon St. 
 Philip, and, on the right, St. Stephen, both, like all the 
 other Deacons, holding the Gospel-book. Above them, 
 over the door, is a six-winged seraph. Within the apse 
 itself are six sainted Priests, three on each side, clad in 
 Mass-vestments, and holding scrolls of Liturgical texts 
 in their hands, reverently approaching a pictured altar 
 in the midst, upon which is the Sacrament, the Host 
 appearing as a new-born Child lying upon the paten. 
 Those to the north are Dionysios the Areopagite, 
 Gregory the Theologian, and John Chrysostom ; to the 
 south, Basil the Great, Athanasius of Alexandria, and 
 Jerome. The door of the Diakonikon is again marked 
 with a seraph above ; the Deacon to the left (east) side 
 is too much destroyed to be recognised ; that to the 
 right is St. Lawrence. In the second tier comes first
 
 150 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 on each side a row of three half-length figures of 
 Prophets in circles, and then, in fall sight of most of 
 the people, a remarkable frieze, about equally above 
 and below the line of the marble cornice of the apse. 
 This frieze represents Christ Himself, as the Bishop of 
 our souls, sending forth (on the north) and welcoming 
 (on the south) the Procession of the Great Entrance. 
 He is in both cases clothed in Pontifical vestments and 
 stands before an altar covered by a baldaquin. In the 
 procession the bread is represented by a human body, 
 similar to the images used by the Greeks upon Good 
 Friday. The main design is founded upon the words 
 of the Cherubic Hymn sung during the ceremony, 
 ' about to receive the King of all invisibly attended by 
 the Angelic armies,' and thus, represented as it appears 
 to the eye of faith, the heavenly and the earthly minis- 
 ters are mingled in the ranks of the procession. Above 
 this frieze, on both sides, is a band of four six-winged 
 seraphim, and above these again is a large subject, sur- 
 rounding the small single-light window, which pierces 
 the clerestory of the sanctuary, on a different scale and 
 level to those of the nave. These subjects are much 
 defaced, but seem to be, on the north, the descent of 
 the Holy Ghost, with the Prophet Joel as a half-length 
 from below, mystically present in their midst (Acts ii. 
 16), and, on the south, the Nativity; thus expressing 
 the earthly manifestations of God the Holy Ghost and 
 God the Son. Above these, between the places of the 
 four tie-beams which originally formed part of the 
 sanctuary roof, are circles once containing half-length 
 figures, possibly martyrs. 
 
 The east wall itself is treated with diaper outside 
 the arch of the apse, to about half the height of the 
 arch. Immediately over the arch is a Veronica, the
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 151 
 
 face of the Saviour represented as imprinted upon a 
 napkin ; and in two irregular spaces upon each side is 
 the Annunciation, the Angel Gabriel being upon the 
 north and the Blessed Virgin upon the south. In the 
 same compartment with Gabriel, but nearer the 
 Veronica, and as an half-length in the architectural 
 back-ground, the prophet Isaiah witnesses the fulfil- 
 ment of his prophecy that the Virgin should conceive, 
 and in the corresponding place on the other side, David 
 regards his descendant. On each side of the gable 
 window, above the line drawn from the level of the top 
 of the side walls, is a sitting figure with an Angel 
 kneeling before it. The northern is apparently the 
 Saviour ; the southern (perhaps the Blessed Virgin) is 
 much defaced. Above the window is an half-length 
 Angel with extended wings. 
 
 Within the apse itself, immediately below the cornice, 
 is in the centre an altar covered by a baldaquin, with a 
 figure of Christ, dressed as a Bishop, on each side, ad- 
 ministering the Holy Communion to the Apostles, the 
 Host to the north, and the Chalice to the south, the 
 words of Institution being written above in each case. 
 On the north side there are only five Apostles, the 
 sixth outermost place on that side being taken by 
 Judas, who is turning away. The inside of the semi- 
 dome is lined with a border of nine Prophets, half- 
 lengths in circles. In the centre of all, the largest 
 figure in the church, is the Blessed Virgin enthroned, 
 and, as the appointed channel of the Incarnation, mani- 
 festing her Divine Son on her knees. On the right 
 (north) side of her throne stands Michael, and on the 
 left (south) Gabriel. The parabemata have suffered 
 greatly. In the semi-dome of the apse of the prothesis, 
 is a figure which may represent the Infant Christ as the
 
 152 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 Angel of the Covenant ; north of the window an half- 
 length of the Ecce Homo, and on the other side, half- 
 lengths of the Blessed Virgin and St. John the Evan- 
 gelist ; to the north of the apse is a Deacon, above it 
 an injured subject, perhaps the dream of St. Joseph, 
 and behind the side table, Melchizedek. On the south 
 wall are, east of the sanctuary door, a Deacon, and 
 west, a Priest ; over these are two subjects eastward, 
 Christ meeting the women (Matth. xxviii. 9), and 
 westward, the healing of the paralytic let down in his 
 bed. Above these are a row of half-lengths of Sainted 
 Bishops in circles. The paintings of the diakonikon 
 are almost entirely effaced ; in the apse is, in the semi- 
 dome, an Angel (? Michael), and south of the window, 
 St. James. 
 
 The scale of the figures in the whole decoration varies 
 very much, according to the importance of their posi- 
 tion. It is observable that David is added to the 
 number of the sixteen Prophets, and, if it be Joel, 
 represented in the scene of the descent of the Holy 
 Ghost, there must be yet another probably either 
 Baruch or Solomon. 
 
 An examination of the outside shows the whole 
 building, including the atrium, to rest upon a graceful 
 basement, the moulding of which, however, is not of a 
 classical form. There are considerable indications of 
 restoration at subsequent periods, and it is evident that 
 the eastern part, consisting of the bema and parabe- 
 mata, is not of the same period as the rest. The apses 
 are not round externally, but three-sided, and the base 
 has been roughly adapted. It is possible that this por- 
 tion of the church has been rebuilt, in order to insert an 
 eikonostasion without destroying the grace of the in-
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 153 
 
 terior an object which certainly has in any case been 
 beautifully attained. 
 
 The refectory of the former nunnery is a large oblong 
 room with an arched roof, immediately behind the 
 church. It is now a rag-picker's store, and in a condi- 
 tion of great dilapidation. It is entered by a pointed- 
 arched door, and lighted by a single window originally 
 of the same form. On the floor lie one or two classical 
 capitals. At the farther end, to the left of the centre, 
 is a niche which seems to have been the seat of the 
 Superior, or the Lectress, and a ruined stone bench runs 
 round the greater part of the walls. The whole interior 
 has been plastered and painted in oils, but at least half 
 the pictures are destroyed. The lower part of the walls 
 has been decorated with a painted dado, covered with a 
 black and red diaper on a white ground, and the splays 
 of the door and window are similar, with the introduc- 
 tion of some yellow. Above the dado is a series of 
 pictures separated one from another by red lines edged 
 with white. They are on the usual blackish-blue 
 ground. They are unequal in merit, and seem to be of 
 different dates. The ends and inner side of the hall 
 have evidently had a line of standing figures. At the 
 upper end, next a small niche in the centre, are three 
 figures of men, the first in classical drapery, the two 
 next the outer wall in sacerdotal vestments. In the 
 inner wall, next one of two cupboard-like recesses, can 
 be deciphered the figure and name of St. Demetrios. 
 The best portion seems to have been a row of six female 
 figures at the lower end, of which only the heads remain, 
 and these in a very imperfect condition, the finest being 
 that of St. Katharine, of whom alone the name is dis- 
 tinctly legible ; the figure next her is perhaps marked 
 Thekla. The colours in this portion have been managed
 
 154 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 with great skill. Against the black-blue ground, each 
 head appears on a large aureola of bright, deep yellow, 
 and wearing a crown of a Gothic form of the same 
 colour. The complexions are very swarthy. The St. 
 Katharine has dark hair, and shows round the neck the 
 remains of a deep red drapery, admirably adapted in 
 tone to the rest of the composition. The next figure 
 had the hair differently arranged, and seemingly enclosed 
 in a sort of cap underneath the crown, of a scarlet 
 colour. Of the upper paintings at the ends and inner 
 side of the hall there remain no traces sufficient to give 
 an idea of the subjects, except a few well-executed 
 figures from the large composition at the upper end, 
 which is separated from the lower by a band of black 
 and white diaper between the red lines, and which 
 seems to have represented the Last Supper. Along a 
 portion of the middle of the vault itself has been a line 
 of busts enclosed in circles. On the outer side of the 
 hall the works are much better preserved, but of very 
 unequal merit. Close to the door are scenes of some 
 legend, in which lions figure largely. Over the window 
 seem to be remains of a landscape, above which is a 
 portion of a composition of angels. From the form of 
 this composition, which now presents a small segment 
 of a circle, it may be conjectured that the middle of the 
 vault in this part was occupied by a figure of Christ 
 enthroned, surrounded by an aureola of angels. The 
 two large spaces of the wall are occupied by large com- 
 positions rising from the dado into the vault. That 
 between the window and the upper end represents St. 
 John Klimakos standing with a group of monks in front 
 of a church, and pointing to the mystic ladder upon 
 which souls are ascending, and which angels strive to 
 uphold on the one side, while fiends endeavour to tear
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 155 
 
 it down on the other. The disposal of the ladder, with 
 regard to the shape of the surface on which the picture 
 is executed, shows considerable skill. The other large 
 picture, which occupies the middle place, is a sort of 
 Tree of Jesse. Jesse sleeps at .the .roots ; on the trunk 
 above him are first David, then Solomon, and then the 
 Blessed Virgin, with arms extended in prayer. This 
 figure would be of great merit, were it not for the defec- 
 tive consideration of anatomy shown in the drapery of 
 the lower parts of the body. Above the head of the 
 Blessed Virgin is Christ. The peculiarity of this tree 
 is that the figures in the branches, instead of being, as 
 usual, the other Theopatores, are Prophets. They hold 
 in their hands scrolls inscribed with texts. The names 
 of Elijah, Elisha, Joel, and Isaiah are still decipherable. 
 
 The scale of the figures in this hall, as in many other 
 Byzantine examples of mural iconography, varies very 
 much. Nearly all the figures have had the countenances 
 mutilated, especially by the eyes being torn out, a 
 phenomenon indicative of a visit from Turks at some 
 period. 
 
 At the south-east angle of the square containing the 
 great Orologion, vulgarly called the Tower or Temple 
 of the Winds, is the roofless and mutilated church of 
 St. Spyridon. It stands in the court-yard of a private 
 house, and the whole of the north aisle, including the 
 Prothesis, has been shaved off to straighten the street 
 outside. On this side, therefore, what remains is closed 
 by a rough wall. It would appear that the church must 
 always have been built into the hillside to the south, 
 but it is now more buried than ever by the accumula- 
 tion of rubbish. Even the interior is, at the present 
 moment, largely filled up with stones, but it seems 
 about to become the object of greater care, and a stone-
 
 156 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 and-lime eikonostasion is actually in course of construc- 
 tion.* The church is entered by a single west door, 
 over which was a small window ; both are now resolved 
 by ruin into a single aperture. The internal length, to 
 the step of the sanctuary, is 27 feet, and the extreme 
 breadth, including the south aisle, over 17 feet, of which 
 the aisle itself takes over 4^ feet. Hence, again allow- 
 ing for the diameter of the columns on the other side, 
 it may be conjectured that the whole original internal 
 breadth was about 23 feet. The building seems, from 
 the existing remains, to have had a vaulted stone roof 
 throughout, without clerestory, and to have been com- 
 pletely plastered and frescoed ; unless indeed it be con- 
 cluded from some indications in the aisle that there may 
 have been there a wooden ceiling under the vault. It 
 is perhaps impossible to state dogmatically that there 
 was neither clerestory nor dome ; but the first appears 
 extremely improbable, and, if it existed, can only have 
 been very partial ; of a dome, there are no indications, 
 and certainly there were not the transepts which almost 
 invariably accompany it. Probably the light was given 
 by a row of windows in the north aisle. 
 
 The first part of the church, forming a sort of vesti- 
 bule, has no aisles, which is the more remarkable, as the 
 existing aisle, though not running quite so far west, 
 exists westward of the point, where it opens into the 
 nave. This species of vestibule retains its roof to a 
 great extent, and the frescoes are partially decipherable. 
 On the west wall itself have been painted, on the south, 
 the Crucifixion, and, on the north, the Descent from 
 the Cross. On the south wall, above a painted dado, 
 are standing figures of SS. Charalampos, Katharine, 
 
 * Last year [1884J, now doubtless finished.
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 157 
 
 Demetrios, and another whose name is illegible. In the 
 middle of the vault is a band containing small busts in 
 circles. Of these it is possible to read the names of 
 Gideon, Malachi, and perhaps David. On the sloping 
 side of the vault have been two tiers of subjects from 
 the Life of Christ, divided into quadrangular pictures. 
 Of these there remain, more or less, four on each side. 
 The easternmost subject on the lower line to the south 
 side is much damaged, but may have been the Mocking ; 
 that next the west wall seems to be Simon carrying 
 the Cross, but, singularly enough, before, not after, the 
 Saviour. The two upper subjects are the Denial of 
 Peter, and Christ before Pilate. On the north side, the 
 lower subject next the west wall is the Woman at the 
 Sepulchre ; the next is effaced beyond recognition. The 
 two upper are the Entombment and the Descent into 
 Hell. The apse is three-sided on the exterior, and very 
 well shaped within. Above the arch, on the north side, 
 are painted two angels holding the representation of 
 the Divine Countenance, upon an handkerchief, commonly 
 called a Veronica. This picture is visible from the 
 street, and serves, even more than the glimpse through 
 the barred window which occupies a portion of what 
 was once the door from the prothesis to the bema, to 
 awake in the passer-by a sentiment of reverence and 
 regret towards the ruined sanctuary. The apse, in 
 which lamps, tapers, and incense are still burnt, con- 
 tains the altar, composed of two large classical fragments. 
 The upper of these, forming the holy table, is the reversed 
 base of a statue, the places for the feet of which still 
 appear underneath it. It bears an inscription in which 
 can be read the name of Tiberius. The lower part of 
 the apse wall has been decorated with a dado in con- 
 ventional representation of hangings the common
 
 158 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 design of which the lower part of the wall of the Sistine 
 chapel in the Vatican offers one of the best known 
 examples. The drapery in this instance is white, with 
 ornaments of deep, bright yellow, emphasised with brown 
 lines. The other decoration of the walls has perished. 
 In the semi-dome of the apse itself is represented the 
 Blessed Virgin enthroned, with her son upon her knees. 
 SS. Michael and Gabriel in Byzantine costumes of cere- 
 mony stand at her right and left respectively. The 
 complexions of these figures are swarthy, and the whole 
 are executed in tints of blue, red, and yellow, of a some- 
 what subdued tone, against a background of the usual 
 deep slatey blue, across the midst of which, however, in 
 this instance, runs a very broad band of deep bright 
 yellow. 
 
 The aisle is separated from the nave by two spurs of 
 wall, one, that already mentioned, forming the south 
 side of what has been termed the vestibule, the other 
 projecting from the east wall to the south of the apse. 
 There are no indications of the existence of a diakonikon, 
 nor are there now to be seen any traces of the position 
 of the eikonostasion. This latter was probably slight, 
 and almost certainly of wood, and can hardly have 
 extended in any form across the south aisle. Between 
 the two spurs are still standing the greater portion of 
 two plain round pillars, the easternmost being of cippo- 
 lino. The aisle is so filled with stones, and the walls 
 so defaced and covered with dust that the amount of 
 observations to be made upon it is very limited. The 
 east end seems a plain flat wall. The most peculiar 
 feature in it, and indeed, in the church, is that the south 
 wall is regularly divided into three large-pointed arched 
 niches, exactly resembling the form of the recessed- 
 altar-tombs in Gothic churches. Whether they are
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 159 
 
 really such tombs or not, it is impossible to determine 
 without some clearance being made in the mass of stones 
 in which they are half-buried. The western is destroyed 
 to such a point that it is impossible to judge of the 
 decoration ; the eastern, though much defaced, conveys 
 the idea that it was very similar to the middle one. 
 In this case the under side of the arch is white, covered 
 with a rich diaper of yellow circles heightened with 
 ornamental brown lines. On the back wall, the space 
 is divided by an horizontal red line, at the spring of the 
 arch, but the ground both above and below is uniformly 
 the dull-blue black. Above, this colour is crossed by a 
 broad band of the vivid yellow, and bears traces of a 
 figure, the face of which is very well executed, but now 
 so much defaced that the subject cannot be accurately 
 ascertained. Below the red line are three standing 
 figures, of which that on the spectator's left still dis- 
 plays the name of Spyridon. 
 
 The combination of colours in this church seems to 
 have been very carefully studied. The uniform deep blue 
 ground is strongly varied with yellow, and the latter 
 runs on into the white of the purely decorative portions. 
 The colouring of the figures is rather subdued, the preva- 
 lent tints in the drapery being a dull blue and red. 
 
 The roofless and ruinous church of the Presentation 
 of Our Lord, half buried on the lower slopes of the 
 Acropolis, among the higher houses of the town, to the 
 north of the cave of Pan, and north-east of the Areio- 
 pagos, offers an interesting and almost unique example 
 of a piece of Gothic. In fact, it now shares this charac- 
 teristic only with the little belfry of the Megale Panagfa. 
 This church of the Presentation seems to have had much 
 in common with the Gothic church of St. John, of which 
 the foundations alone are now perceptible in a mass of
 
 160 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 rubbish, but of which drawings are fortunately preserved 
 in the Choix d'Eglises Byzantines e,n Grece by M. 
 Couchaud.* They differ, however, in the fact that the 
 church of the Presentation has an apse, whereas that of 
 St. John presented the one example in Athens of a 
 square projecting sanctuary. t 
 
 The entire internal length of the church of the Pre- 
 sentation, exclusive of the apse, is about forty-one feet, 
 and the breadth thirty-one. It may be surmised that 
 it certainly had aisles, which seem to have been about 
 seven feet broad. The internal walls bear traces of at 
 least two coats of plaster, the earlier of which is the 
 finest and was apparently frescoed. There are now no 
 indications of a narthex or of a dome, and it seems most 
 probable that, like St. John's, it was lighted by a cleres- 
 tory. At the west end are three doors, and another 
 with a pointed arch in the north side, nearly twenty- 
 one feet from the west wall. Between this door and 
 the west wall is a small window, and, on the outside, 
 still west of this window, an heavy canopied niche rest- 
 ing on a marble slab with mediaeval carving, and seem- 
 ingly meant to hold a religious picture. At the west 
 end of the south aisle has been another small side door. 
 The distance at present from the east wall to the edge 
 of the sanctuary step is about seven feet eight inches, 
 but there are some indications that the walls, pierced 
 with doors, which originally separated the parabernata 
 from the bema, have been prolonged by more than two 
 feet at some later period. It must have been at or sub- 
 sequent to this period that there were added the two 
 remarkable Gothic groined vaults which now cover the 
 
 * Paris, Lenoir, Qnai Malaquais, 5, 1832. 
 
 t Square ends, but without projection, are sometimes found in side- 
 chapels (parecclesiai).
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 161 
 
 sites of the prothesis and diakonikon. The doors lead- 
 ing into these from the bema have now been walled up, 
 and the site of the bema itself occupied by an humble 
 oratory. The arch of the apse is quasi -pointed. The 
 apse itself is very shallow, and three-sided externally. 
 It is so buried in rubbish outside, and entirely covered 
 with modern plaster within, that it is impossible to see 
 if it had windows. The Prothesis and Diakonikon 
 merely have niches, of which the former is the largest. 
 
 Not far east of the church of the Presentation may 
 be observed against some houses skirting a wilderness 
 of rubbish, the apse of the church of St. Anne. It 
 is defended by a low wall. It is very strange in ap- 
 pearance, as it does not centre with the round arch 
 above it, being placed to one side to leave room for 
 the small niche which did duty for Prothesis, and 
 which is now a small shrine, containing a pleasing 
 modern picture. 
 
 Not far above this spot, and near the existing church 
 of the Holy Saviour, is what is perhaps the saddest 
 ecclesiastical ruin of Athens. This is the church some- 
 times called St. Nicholas, but more ordinarily St. 
 Seraphim. It is clear of the houses and situated well 
 up the slope of the Acropolis. It is at least half buried 
 in earth, and filled with rubbish and such filth that it 
 is disagreeable to approach it. It seems to have been 
 at one time fortified, having the remains of such con- 
 structions on the top of the wall. There is little to be 
 seen except the ruined wall, and part of the exterior of 
 a three-sided apse. At the west end appears the upper 
 part of a very handsome square-headed marble doorway, 
 now much ruined, and to the left (north) of this door, 
 the ruins of a round-headed window, constructed in
 
 162 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 brick. There is no sign of any other window; the 
 building was probably lighted by a dome. 
 
 The Church of the Twelve Apostles is by some sup- 
 posed to represent the site of the altar of the Twelve 
 Gods. It is among the most interesting Christian 
 buildings of Athens, but in its present state is not un- 
 likely to escape the notice of a superficial traveller. 
 The west end, including the narthex and a considerable 
 portion of the main design, has been recently destroyed, 
 and a large nave built, which can only be compared to 
 the humblest class of Scotch country churches or of 
 Welsh Dissenting chapels.* The exterior of the old 
 part of the church, although not actually in ruins, is 
 neglected, and the windows much closed and mutilated. 
 The stones of the walls, as in other antient examples, 
 are separated by thin bricks or tiles, and these have, 
 moreover, been used to form monograms, of which IS 
 (for Jesus) is constantly repeated ; there is another in 
 peculiar combination of Alpha and Omega, and several 
 others less easy to decipher. The windows have marble 
 mullions. The interior is white-washed, and in places 
 coloured vivid blue, while there is some modern painting 
 in the eastern semi-dome. There is a modern marble 
 pavement ; and a large modern marble eikonastasion, 
 coarsely decorated with gilding and colour, cuts 
 off two of the four pillars which support the dome. 
 These pillars are antient, and two have classical 
 
 * On a desk near the door of this nave is a beautiful mediaeval picture of 
 the Blessed Virgin, on a gold ground, executed upon panel.
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 163 
 
 Corinthian capitals ; the Altar is also formed of an 
 antient Doric capital and another classical fragment. 
 
 The plan is really based upon the usual square, but 
 this is so ingeniously concealed with concentric circles, 
 apses, and strange forms, that it requires study to com- 
 prehend the whole building, which has, moreover, at its 
 best, been an inaccurate execution of the original 
 architect's design. Within the square has been de- 
 scribed the usual cross, space being left for the thick- 
 ness of the walls necessary to support the dome, and 
 the four pillars are placed within this thickness, at the 
 four intersections. The small squares left in the angles 
 are exactly one quarter of the size of the large square 
 left in the middle. In each of these little squares has 
 been described a circle, as the circle of the dome is de- 
 scribed within the central one, and the outermost half 
 of each of these small circles (turned north-east, 
 south-east, north-west, and south-west respectively) 
 is formed into an apse and semi-dome. The dome and 
 all the semi-domes are stilted. A. great circle has then 
 been described, passing through the centre of each of 
 these four little squares, and the walls of this circle 
 form the internal walls of the church. At the end of 
 each of the limbs of the central cross is a large apse, 
 the chord of which is contracted by about two feet 
 within the length of the chord of a segment one eighth 
 of the large surrounding circle. Externally these four 
 large apses (or rather what remains of them), are three- 
 sided, while the lesser apses are tv\ 7 o- sided. The whole, 
 therefore, forms externally a strange polygon of twenty 
 sides, described within an imaginary external circle, of 
 which it touches the circumference in twelve places, 
 and from which it retires (putting aside the central ex-
 
 164 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 
 
 ternal walls of the four apses) in eight exceedingly 
 obtuse angles. 
 
 The eastern apse has a large three-light window in 
 the middle, and the north and south each a two-light. 
 In the western was formerly the door, which was thus 
 just within the large external circle last mentioned. 
 The small north- and south-east apses have also got 
 two-light windows, not central, but opening to the 
 east. Each column is connected with the wall by two 
 round arches following the original lines of the division 
 into squares, and the corner spaces accordingly assume 
 the strange form of half-square and half-round. The 
 dome is high, and has a lofty clerestory, originally pos- 
 sesssing eight lights. The western side of the building 
 has been almost entirely destroyed in order to construct 
 the modern nave, and there is now a proposal to remove 
 what remains of it, so that the interior of the church 
 may be made to resemble as much as possible a barn or 
 ball-room. With this loss of more than a quarter of its 
 curious concentric figure, the interest of this remarkable 
 building will largely disappear. The north- and south- 
 west apses are already pierced with large entrances 
 into this new nave ; whether they originally had any 
 door in that direction must be regarded as altogether 
 uncertain. The great western apse has been shorn 
 away till it has somewhat the appearance of a chancel- 
 arch. The impression of the present writer is that the 
 narthex recently destroyed was probably an addition to 
 the original plan. It is described as an irregular 
 building of the form of a double square, being thus 
 about twice the size of the central square of the church 
 between the pillars. It was in two stories, the lower 
 being entered by three doors, and the upper by an open 
 outside stair on the south. The western apse of the
 
 SOME CHRISTIAN MONUMENTS OF ATHENS. 165 
 
 church was enclosed in a square mass of masonry, which 
 intruded into this narthex to about half its breadth, but 
 the place of the original door (thus placed some feet 
 down a sort of passage) was still marked and preserved. 
 Whether the upper storey had any communication into 
 the church is uncertain.
 
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 utu /7
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO BEFORE THE VENETIAN 
 INQUISITION. 
 
 Giordano Bruno e i suoi tempi. Da P. LUIGI PREVITI, 
 S.J. Prato : Tipografia Giachetti, Figlio e C. 
 1887. 
 
 IN the year 1885 Messrs Herbert Spencer, A. C. 
 Swinburne, F. Max Miiller, J. Stansfield, and C. 
 Bradlaugb, to whom were subsequently added Messrs. 
 Auberon Herbert and P. Taylor, and Mesdames C. 
 Oppenheim and Ashurst-Venturi, were associated in an 
 English National Committee in connection with the 
 
 o 
 
 International one formed to procure the erection of a 
 monument to Giordano Bruno at the spot in the Campo 
 dei Fiori at Rome where he is generally, or at least 
 popularly, believed to have been burnt alive upon 
 February 17, 1600. It is needless here to give the 
 long list of names which appear upon the other 
 National Committees formed with this object in Ger- 
 many, Spain, Austria-Hungary, Portugal, Roumania, 
 Sweden and Norway, Belgium, Holland, Switzerland, 
 Greece, Russia, and the United States, as well as in 
 Italy itself, but it may be worth noting that the 
 original members of the Committee for France were 
 Messrs. Victor Hugo, Ernest Renan, Paul Bert, Th. 
 Ribot, A. Aspinas, and G. De Mortillet. It is certainly 
 a curious fact that all these distinguished persons in so 
 many lands should be found prepared unanimously to 
 
 167
 
 168 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 crown the author of the Candelajo. It is also remark- 
 able that they should all seem to have convinced them- 
 selves in the same sense upon the very obscure, open, 
 and debated question of whether, as a matter of fact, he 
 was ever burnt at all. And it is still more remarkable 
 that none of them should have taken the trouble to 
 ascertain beforehand whether the Italian authorities 
 would permit the erection of the proposed statue. The 
 homage now offered to his memory certainly forms a 
 striking contrast bo the extreme obscurity in which 
 Giordano Bruno lived and died. The agitation has 
 naturally been greatest in Italy, where it has assumed 
 in an especial degree the character with which it is 
 everywhere likely to be invested, viz. , that of a field for 
 the demonstrations of differing schools of opinion ; per- 
 haps because in Italy different schools of religious and 
 philosophical thought are to so large an extent allied to 
 schools of political sympathy. * By members of the 
 moderate Conservative party, which probably embraces 
 the bulk of the Italian people, the movement may be 
 said to be regarded with annoyance. The Communal 
 Council of Rome in May last refused to grant a site for 
 such a monument, to which the admirers of Giordano 
 replied by demanding, in the name of liberty of opinion, 
 that the capital city of Italy be deprived of her liberty ; 
 but a fresh turn in the municipal elections now renders 
 it likely that the decision of two months ago may be 
 reversed. The agitation has convulsed the Universities 
 with demonstrations on the part of some groups of the 
 students, which have sometimes amounted to riots. It 
 has recently supplied the stage in certain theatres with 
 
 * The reversal of the politics of the Roman Government has led to the 
 erection of the statue in question.
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 169 
 
 a modern drama, which has (at least in certain places) 
 afforded matter for the energies of the officials who, 
 under the present Italian Constitution, discharge the 
 censorial duties of the English Lord Chamberlain. On 
 the other hand, it has provoked remonstrances, of which 
 the protests drawn forth by the celebration in the 
 University of Rome, in which the present Radical 
 Prime Minister, Crispi, took part, are among the 
 leading. A small literature is naturally arising on the 
 subject, which has produced among others the book 
 named at the head of this article. It is not, however, 
 intended here to write either a review of that book or 
 an essay upon the life and times of the man with whom 
 it deals. The name of Giordano Bruno has been 
 suddenly invested with an importance which it never 
 formerly possessed, either in his own or in foreign 
 countries, and the idea has occurred to the present 
 writer that it may therefore be of interest here to place 
 before the reader a series of abstracts and extracts, with 
 a few complete translations, from the original and con- 
 temporary documents which record the events of 
 Bruno's last years, from his arrest at Venice till his 
 death or disappearance from record. These documents, 
 with the single but very important exception of that 
 which closes the ensuing article,* are taken or abridged 
 from the long and full series which forms the second 
 part of Father Previti's work, and it is in acknowledg- 
 
 * As the reader will perceive by the note which we have appended at 
 the end, the article here printed is only a part of a longer one which we 
 have decided to divide into two. The document above referred to which 
 is an excerpt from the Archives of a Roman charity for the benefit of 
 criminals under capital sentence as well as the contributions from the 
 records of the Roman inquisition presently mentioned, belong to the latter 
 part.
 
 170 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 ment of this fact that the name of his book appears above. 
 The extent to which the completeness of this series is 
 marred by the inexorable secrecy of the Roman In- 
 quisition is deeply to be regretted ; but the documents 
 available, including the trial before the Venetian 
 Inquisition, are of great interest as concerning the 
 history of Bruno, not only in regard to the actual time 
 of the proceedings themselves, but also to his life in the 
 preceding years, of which, as well as of his doctrines, we 
 have here a short account in his own words. The rarity, 
 also, of the publication of any proceedings of the 
 Inquisition, originally concealed from the world under 
 oaths of secrecy, invests them to the English reader 
 with a strange element of curiosity and interest. 
 
 It is at first sight rather difficult to understand what 
 can have induced Bruno to thrust his head, so to speak, 
 into the lion's mouth, by returning to Italy. It may be 
 supposed that he relied, on the one hand, upon the 
 almost certain protection afforded him by his great 
 obscurity, and was actuated, on the other, by the desire 
 to make a little money, which his circumstances must 
 have rendered almost imperatively needful. He had 
 proved a social and literary failure. So slight was the 
 impression which he had succeeded in producing upon 
 those with whom he came in contact, that his name is 
 mentioned, according to Father Previti, by only six con- 
 temporary writers, viz., Andalio, Regnault, the Wechels, 
 Eglino, Alsted, and Schopp, of whom all but the first 
 and tbe last were editors or publishers of some of his 
 works. It is not to be found either in the registers of 
 the Order of the Friar Preachers, of which he was a 
 member, or in those of the Universities of Toulouse and 
 Paris, and the divers Universities of Germany where he 
 lectured, and is only found cancelled in the Matricula-
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 171 
 
 tion Roll of Marburg. And in like manner no mention 
 of him is to be found made by such men as Michel 
 Castelneau, the French Ambassador in London, in 
 whose house he lived for three consecutive years ; Sir 
 Philip Sidney, to whom he publicly dedicated two of 
 his works (the Spaccio della Bestia trionfante> and the 
 Eroici Furori] ; Alberigo Gentile, his colleague at 
 Wittemberg ; Paolo Sarpi, who knew him at Venice ; 
 or Andrew Morosini, the historian of that Republic to 
 whose society he was certainly admitted. As a matter 
 of fact, if the depositions sworn before the Venetian 
 Inquisition are to be believed, almost nothing was 
 known about him at Venice, and it was not even sus- 
 pected that he was an ex-friar. At the time of his 
 arrest he had with him some half-dozen works in MS., 
 for which it is therefore to be assumed that he had 
 failed to find any publisher. He had apparently no 
 private means, and, when not living upon the bounty of 
 others, as in the French Embassy in London, seems to 
 have been entirely dependent upon the scanty and un- 
 certain results of giving lessons. In these circumstances 
 it is not surprising that he at last yielded to the repeated 
 invitation of the Venetian Patrician, John Mocenigo, to 
 whom he had been mentioned by the bookseller Giotto, 
 and who promised him good treatment if he would 
 come to Venice, in order to instruct him in his peculiar 
 system for developing and strengthening the memory. 
 
 John Mocenigo, a member of one of the best known 
 families of the Venetian Republic, was a married man 
 thirty-four years of age. He was by no means without 
 literary tastes, as appears by his editing, in 1592, the 
 Lett ere familiari di Giovanni Battista Leoni. and was 
 held in some social and political estimation, since he had 
 been chosen in 1583 one of the Savii all' eresia, the
 
 172 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 three noble Lay Assessors nominated by the State 
 to attend all sittings of the Inquisition, and with- 
 out the presence of at least one of whom, any acts 
 of that Tribunal were ipso facto illegal and invalid, 
 while the Assessors themselves were bound by oath 
 to reveal to the Doge and Senate, all and any 
 of its proceedings, and also to stop immediately 
 any which might appear to them to be contrary 
 either to the laws or usages of the Republic, or to any 
 secret instructions which they might have themselves 
 received from the State. The name of John Mocenigo 
 has been assailed with execrations for his conduct to 
 Giordano Bruno, and his action with regard to his guest 
 certainly places him in an unfavourable light. But it 
 is hardly probable that, as has been sometimes asserted, 
 he deliberately lured him to Venice, in order to hand 
 him over to the Inquisition, and only waited for seven 
 or eight months, that he might insinuate himself into 
 his confidence and entangle himself in his talk."" Such 
 an assertion is contrary to the sworn statement made to 
 the Inquisition by Mocenigo himself, from which it ap- 
 
 * So, for instance, Williams' Heroic Enthusiasts, p. 27. ' The Church 
 never lost sight of Bruno, he was always under surveillance, and few dared 
 to show themselves openly his friends. . . . He observed nothing of 
 the invisible net which his enemies spread about him, and while his slan- 
 derers were busy in doing him injury, he was occupied in teaching. . . .' 
 Also, pp. 30, 31. 'After several letters from Mocenigo, full of fine profes- 
 sions of friendship and affection, Bruno, longing to see his country again, 
 turned his face towards Venice. . . . He insisted that Bruno should 
 make science clearly known to him, but this was probably only to initiate 
 a quarrel with Bruno, whom he intended afterwards to betray, and deliver 
 into the hands of the Church. The Holy Office would have laid hands on 
 Bruno immediately on his arrival in Italy, but being assured by Mocenigo 
 that he could not escape, they left him a certain liberty, so that he might 
 more surely compromise himself, while his enemies were busy collecting 
 evidence against him.'
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 173 
 
 pears that he did not even suspect Bruno of being an 
 ecclesiastic until the very day upon which he placed him 
 under restraint in consequence of a personal quarrel. 
 This statement of Mocenigo is in perfect accordance 
 with the simple, clear, and consistent narrative of the 
 bookseller Giotto : and it is well to remember that these 
 depositions were made separately, and under an oath of 
 secrecy as well as of truth. The ultimate proceedings 
 against Bruno were not based upon Mocenigo's denun- 
 ciations, which were merely the cause of his arrest, but 
 upon his published and MS. works, the former of which 
 were already accessible, and the latter of which might 
 have been seized at any moment after his arrival in the 
 territories of the Bepublic. On the contrary, it seems 
 difficult to credit Mocenigo with the motive of religious 
 zeal. His conscience appears to have troubled him in 
 no way with regard to the opinions of his tutor until 
 they had a personal difference as to the fulfilment of 
 Giordano's engagement. 
 
 Bruno must have arrived in Venice in the month of 
 October, 1594, and proceeded to give Mocenigo the 
 stipulated lessons. What followed, the reader may be 
 best left to see for himself in the statements taken before 
 the Inquisition. Suffice it to say, that their relations 
 do not seem to have engendered much mutual love. 
 After a while, Bruno went for a time to Padua, whence 
 he returned to Venice, and towards the latter part of 
 May, proceeded to pack up, with the intention of leav- 
 ing for Frankfort. On Thursday, May 21, Mocenigo 
 had a quarrel with him upon this subject, alleging 
 that he had not fulfilled the terms of his engagement 
 
 O O 
 
 as to the instruction which he had undertaken to give 
 him. Bruno remained unshaken in his determination 
 to leave. On the following (Friday) night, Mocenigo
 
 174 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 put him under restraint in his own house, and the next 
 morning sent a formal denunciation of him to the In- 
 quisitor, in consequence of which the officials of the 
 Inquisition arrested him the same day and lodged him 
 in the prison of that Tribunal. This denunciation by 
 Mocenigo is the first of the documents which illustrate 
 the closing act of Giordano Bruno's life. It is as fol- 
 lows *: 
 
 'I, John Mocenigo, son of Mark Antony Mocenigo, 
 obliged by my conscience and commanded by my con- 
 fessor, make known to your very Rev. Fatherhood that 
 I have heard Giordano Bruno of Nola say, on some 
 occasions when he has reasoned with me in my own 
 house, that it is a great blasphemy on the part of 
 Catholics to say that the bread is transubstantiated into 
 Flesh that he is an enemy of the Mass that no reli- 
 gion pleases him that Christ was an evildoer (tristo) 
 and that if He wrought evil to deceive the people, He 
 might well foretell that He would get hung (impicato) for 
 it that there is no distinction of Persons in God, and 
 that, if there were, it would be an imperfection in God- 
 that the world is eternal and that there are infinite 
 worlds, and that God goes on continually making them 
 to infinity, because he says that He wills whatever He 
 can do that Christ worked sham (apparenti) miracles, 
 and that he was a sorcerer, and so also the Apostles, 
 and that he himself has sense enough to do as much as 
 
 * This letter is addressed ' to my Rev. Father and Most Worshipful 
 Lord, the Father Inquisitor of Venice, and begins, ' Very Rev. Father 
 and Most Worshipful Lord,' but in this as in the subsequent documents 
 the translator has thought it best to omit or shorten the titles of honour 
 as much as possible. They occur jso very frequently and are so long as 
 seriously to occupy space. He has also omitted complimentary expres- 
 sions of an entirely conventional character such as are found at the close 
 6f letters, etc.
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 175 
 
 they, and more that Christ made it clear that He died 
 much against His will, and did what He could to escape 
 it that there is no punishment for sin that souls are 
 created by the operation of nature and pass from one 
 animal into another and that just as the brute beasts 
 are engendered from corruption, so are men also en- 
 gendered when their turn to be born again comes after 
 the floods. 
 
 ' He has shown an intention of trying to become the 
 founder of a new sect, under the title of the New Philo- 
 sophy. He has said that the Virgin could not have 
 had a Son arid that our Catholic faith is all full of 
 blasphemies against the Majesty of God that it would 
 be needful to begin to raise disputes with the friars, 
 because they pollute the world that they are all asses 
 and that our opinions are doctrines of asses that we 
 have no proof that our faith is meritorious before God 
 and that not to do unto others what we- would not that 
 they should do unto us is enough for a good life and 
 that he laughs at all the other sins and wonders that 
 God should endure such heresies of Catholics. He says 
 that he wishes to study the art of divination, and that 
 he would make all the world run after him that St. 
 Thomas [Aquinas] and all the Doctors knew nothing as 
 compared to himself and that he would enlighten all 
 the first theologians of the world, so that they would 
 have nothing to answer. 
 
 ' He has told me that he once had a dispute with the 
 Inquisition at Rome about 130 articles, and that if he 
 ran away while he was before it, it was because he was 
 charged with throwing his accuser or at any rate, the 
 individual he believed to be his accuser into the Tiber. 
 
 ' As I have told your Fatherhood, by word of mouth, 
 I meant to learn from him, not knowing that he was as
 
 176 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 bad as he is, and having [only] made a note of all these 
 things in order to give an account of them to your Very 
 Rev. Fatherhood, when I began to suspect that he 
 might leave, as he said he wished to do. I have locked 
 him up in a room, at your disposal ; and, as I take him 
 to be possessed [by a devil], I pray you to come to some 
 immediate resolution concerning him. 
 
 ' The booksellers Giotto and Berchtan (Bertano) will 
 be able to tell the Holy Office the same things. Berch- 
 tan has spoken to me particularly about him, and told 
 me that he is an enemy of Christ, and of our faith, and 
 that he has heard him utter great heresies. 
 
 ' I also send your Very Rev. Fatherhood three printed 
 books by the same, in which I have hastily marked some 
 passages, and also a little work in his own handwriting, 
 concerning God, from which some of his general prin- 
 ciples may be deduced, and a judgment formed upon 
 them. 
 
 1 The man has also frequented the literary meetings 
 (academia), at the house of the Ser Andrew Morosini, 
 which are frequented by many gentlemen, who may, 
 perhaps, have heard him express some of his ideas.' 
 
 This denunciation was, as before remarked, written 
 on Saturday, May 23rd, and on the same day the 
 officials of the Inquisition came to Mocenigo's house, 
 formally arrested Bruno, and took him to their prison. 
 Sunday passed over quietly, but on Monday, Mocenigo 
 sent in a second denunciation, in the following terms: 
 
 ' The day that I locked up Giordano Bruno, I told 
 him that I would not accuse him of the many abomin- 
 able (scellerate) things which he had spoken against 
 Our Lord Jesus Christ and against the holy Catholic 
 Church, if only he would consent to teach me as he had 
 promised to do in return for my many courtesies and
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 177 
 
 gifts. He answered that he had no fear of the Inquisi- 
 tion, because he did no harm to anyone by living as he 
 did, and that he did not remember ever having said 
 anything wrong to me, and that even if he had, it had 
 not been in the presence of witnesses, and that, conse- 
 quently, he had no ground for fearing that I could do 
 him any harm on that score, and, at the worst, if he 
 were placed in the hands of the Inquisition, the most 
 they could do would be to make him put on the frock 
 which he had dropt. 
 
 ' I said to him, " Then you are a member of a religious 
 Order ? " He answered, " I only had the minor orders, 
 and therefore in any case I could easily settle matters." 
 I replied, " How could you easily settle matters, if you 
 do not believe in the Most Holy Trinity, if you speak 
 so ill of Our Lord Jesus Christ, if you think that our 
 souls are made of rnud, and that every action in the 
 world is the result of fate, as you have told me before 
 now ? The first thing you have need to do is to settle 
 your opinions, and then you can easily settle the rest, 
 and if you so please, I offer to give you all the help in 
 my power, because, as you know, although you have 
 shown yourself so wanting in the fulfilment of your 
 promise to me, and so ungrateful for the civilities 
 which I have shown you, I wish to be your friend in 
 every way." To this he answered nothing, except to 
 beg me to let him go free, and that he had packed up 
 his things and talked to me of going away, without 
 really meaning to do it, but only to check my impatience 
 to learn, with which I had always been tormenting him ; 
 and that, if I would let him go free, he would teach me 
 everything that he knew, and I alone should know the 
 secrets of everything which he had ever done, and 
 beautiful and precious things which he meant to do, 
 
 M
 
 178 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 and that he would become my slave for no more re- 
 muneration than that which he had already received ; 
 and that if I wished for everything which he had in my 
 house, he left me free to take it, for everything he had, 
 had come from me, and all that he wanted was that I 
 should give him a copy, at any rate, of a book of magical 
 formulae (congiurationi) which I have found among 
 some of his papers. 
 
 ' T have been desirous to give an account of all this 
 to your Very Rev. Fatherhood, in order that you may 
 be able, taking it into account along with the rest, to 
 form a decision as to the facts, according to the prudence 
 of your judgment and holy mind. 
 
 ' There are some money, goods, papers, and books 
 belonging to him, as to which you will please to give 
 your orders. 
 
 ' And as your Lordship has shown me so much kind- 
 ness in forgiving me my error as regards the sending in 
 of this accusation, I entreat you to be pleased to excuse 
 me to the Most Illustrious Lords [of the Inquisition], in 
 consideration that I meant well, and that I was not able 
 to discover everything at once, besides that I did not 
 know this man's depravity until after he came to stay 
 in my house, which may be some two months ago, for, 
 since his arrival here he has lived part of the time in an 
 hired chamber in this city, but for the most part he has 
 been at Padua. And besides, I wished to profit from 
 him. And as for the way I have gone on with him, I 
 could always be sure that he would not leave me with- 
 out giving me notice, so that I have always promised 
 myself that I should be able to hand him over to the 
 censures of the Holy Office.' 
 
 This letter, like the former, was written at Mocenigo's 
 house, br-t he seems to have carried it himself to the
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 179 
 
 Inquisitor. The latter has left a note that he saw him, 
 put some general questions to him, as to his age, etc., 
 and caused him to swear upon the Scriptures that both 
 the denunciations were true, and also that he would 
 preserve absolute secrecy as to the proceedings. 
 
 On the following morning Tuesday, May 26th the 
 trial began. There were present, with the Inquisitor, 
 the Pnpal Nuncio, the Patriarch of Venice, and the Lay 
 Assessor, Aloysius Foscari.' 5 ' 5 ' 
 
 After the Captain of the Guard had given formal 
 evidence of the arrest, the first witness called was the 
 bookseller John Baptist Giotto. His statement is 
 chiefly interesting with regard to Bruno's position at 
 Frankfort, and Mocenigo's invitation to him to come to 
 Venice. Ciotto said he had first made his acquaintance 
 about eighteen months before, when they were both 
 lodging in the Carmelite Convent at Frankfort. 
 Mocenigo had bought a copy of Bruno's book,Zte monade, 
 numero et JiguraJ in his (Giotto's) shop at Venice, and 
 in consequence had asked him if he knew the author, 
 as he thought of inviting him to Venice to teach him 
 his system of memory. Ciotto had conveyed Mocenigo's 
 letter to Bruno. He knew only two other books by 
 Bruno, viz., Gli Eroici Furori, printed at Paris, and De 
 linfinito, universe, et mondi, printed in London, but 
 falsely bearing the name of Venice. He had never him- 
 self noticed anything in Bruno contrary to sound religion 
 
 * Considering that this is the statement of the minutes of the Court, 
 and that the whole thing was conducted under oaths of secrecy, it is 
 interesting to find in Williams' Heroic Enthusiasts, p. 32, that ' most of 
 the provinces of Italy were represented by their delegates in the early part 
 of the trial.' 
 
 t The witness blundered over the name of the book, but in the end gave 
 the title correctly enough to make identification possible.
 
 180 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 and morality, but in consequence of a request made to 
 him by Mocenigo, he bad made enquiries at Frankfort 
 at Easter last past (1595), and tbere found tbat be was 
 thought little of, tbat bis system of memory bad never 
 given satisfaction, and that, as to religion, he was 
 believed to have none whatsoever. Giotto was not 
 aware that Bruno had been arrested. 
 
 The next witness called was the bookseller, James 
 Berchtan, of Antwerp. He bad first met Bruno about 
 tbree years before, at Frankfort, when, knowing him by 
 some of bis works, he had sought his acquaintance. He 
 had afterwards met him at Zurich. He bad never 
 noticed anything about him contrary to religion or 
 morality ; but the Carmelite Prior at Frankfort had 
 told him that he believed him to be a man destitute of 
 any religion. Bruno lived by giving lessons, arid was 
 regarded as eccentric, not devoid of talents or informa- 
 tion, but given to the pursuit of chimeras and new 
 devices in astrology. He knew of no intimate friends 
 of Bruno at Venice. He had seen several of his works, 
 including the Cantus Circceus and a book on Memory * 
 both printed ut Paris, and that De specierum scrutinis 
 et lampade combinatorial, printed at Prague ; but 
 believed he had somewhere a complete list of Bruno's 
 works, which, if he could find it, he would send to the 
 Tribunal. 
 
 After this, there was brought forward a man of 
 
 * o 
 
 middling stature, with a dark brown beard, and 
 apparently about forty years of age. He took an oath 
 
 * It seems uncertain what book he meant. The most probable appears 
 to be that De imayinum, signorum, et idearum compositione, but that bears 
 the name of Frankfort. In naming the third work, he may also have 
 made a confusion with the De lampade combinatorial Lulliana, printed at 
 Wittemberg.
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 181 
 
 upon the Scriptures to speak the truth, and then imme- 
 diately said, without waiting to be asked any question : 
 
 ' I will tell the truth. I have been threatened more 
 than once with being brought to this Holy Office, but I 
 always thought it was a joke, because I am perfectly 
 ready to give an account of myself.' 
 
 In answer to questions, he said : 
 
 ' When I was at Frankfort last year I had two letters 
 from John Mocenigo, a Venetian gentleman, inviting 
 me to come to Venice. According to what he wrote 
 me, he wanted me to teach him the mnemonic and in- 
 ventive art. He told me he would treat me well, and 
 that I should have nothing to complain of him. So I 
 came here, some seven or eight months ago. Since 
 then, I have taught him some rudiments of these two 
 sciences. I lived first outside his house, and afterwards 
 in it. As it seemed to me that I had done and taught 
 to him as much as was needful, and as much as I owed 
 him in respect of what he had asked from me, and was 
 consequently turning my mind to go back to Frankfort 
 in order to print some of my works, I asked his con- 
 sent, on Thursday last, to my departure. When he 
 heard this, he fancied that I wanted to leave his house 
 so soon, not in order to go back to Frankfort, as I told 
 him, but in order to give lessons to other persons in the 
 same sciences which I had taught to him, and in others. 
 He pressed upon me to stay. I remained quite 
 determined to go. Thereupon he began to reproach me 
 with not having taught him as much as I had promised, 
 and next, to threaten me, by saying that if I would not 
 stay willingly, he would find a way to keep me. The 
 night of the next day (that is, the Friday), when the 
 said Ser John saw that I persisted in my intention of 
 leaving, that I had already settled my affairs, and that
 
 182 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 I had made arrangements about sending my things to 
 Frankfort, he came to me after I was in bed, under the 
 pretext of wishing to speak to me. When he came into 
 my room he was followed by his own servant, whose 
 name is Bartolo, and by about five or six other men, 
 who were, to the best of my belief and judgment, gon- 
 doliers from the street. They made me get out of bed, 
 and took me to a garret, where they locked me in. Ser 
 John said that if I would stay and teach him the ele- 
 ments of the recollection of words, and the elements of 
 geometry, as he had asked of me before, he would set 
 me at liberty, but that if not, something very disagree- 
 able would happen to me. I continued to answer him 
 that I thought I had taught him as much and more 
 than I needed, and that I had done nothing to deserve 
 such treatment. He left me there till next day, when 
 there came a captain and some men, whom I did not 
 know. He made them take me downstairs into an 
 underground cellar in the same house, and there they 
 left me until the night. Then there came another 
 captain and his officers ; and they brought me to the 
 prisons of this Holy Office. I believe I have been 
 brought here by the work of the said Ser John, who has 
 made some denunciation here against me, because he 
 was irritated by what I said to him/ 
 
 Asked as to his name, family, occupation, etc., he 
 said: 
 
 ' My name is Giordano.*" I am of the family of the 
 Bruni, of the city of Nola, twelve miles from Naples, 
 
 * Giordatw (' Jordan ') was the new name which he took when lie entered 
 the Dominican Order. His baptismal name, as he afterwards stated, was 
 Philip. The family name Bruno, is, as need hardly be remarked, the 
 same as Brown. Hence he would be called in English simply Philip or 
 Jordan Brown.
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 183 
 
 and was born and brought up there. My profession has 
 been and is that of letters, and of every science. My 
 father's name was John, and he was a soldier by pro- 
 fession. My mother's name was Fraulissa Savolina. 
 They are both dead. 
 
 In reply to further questions, he said : 
 
 * I am forty-four years of age. From what I have 
 heard from my relations, I believe I was born in the 
 year 1548. I was sent to Naples to learn Humanities, 
 Logic, and Dialectics. I used to hear the public lectures 
 of a man who was called " il Sarnese," and I had 
 private lessons in Logic from an Augustinian Father 
 called Fra Theofilo, of Verrano, the same that taught 
 Metaphysics afterwards at Rome. When I was about 
 fourteen or fifteen years old, I took the habit of St. 
 Dominic, in the monastery or convent of San Domenico, 
 at Naples. I was clothed by a Father who was then 
 Prior of the convent, and whose name was Master 
 Ambrose Pasqua. When the year of probation was 
 over I was admitted to solemn profession by the same 
 Prior in the same convent. I believe that no one else 
 professed along with me except a lay brother. I was 
 afterwards raised to Holy Orders, and to the Priest- 
 hood, at the proper times. I sang my first Mass at 
 Campagna, a city of the same kingdom, at a distance 
 from Naples, being then in a convent of the same Order, 
 called St. Bartholomew's. I continued to wear the 
 habit of the Order of St. Dominic, to celebrate Mass 
 and the Divine offices, and to obey the Priors of the 
 monasteries and convents where I was, until the year 
 1576. That was the year after the Jubilee. I was 
 then at Rome in the convent of the Minerva, under 
 Master Sixtus of Lucca, the Proctor of the Order. I 
 had gone there to report myself, because proceedings
 
 184 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 had been twice begun against me at Naples. The first 
 time was for having given away some figures and 
 images of Saints, and kept nothing but a crucifix, for 
 which I was accused of despising the images of the 
 Saints. The other time was for having said to a novice 
 who was reading an history of the Seven Joys in verse, 
 What did he want to do with that book but to throw 
 it away, and take to reading some other book, such as 
 the Lives of the Fathers ? These proceedings were re- 
 newed when I went to Rome, along with other accusa- 
 tions which I do not know. On account of this I left 
 the Order, and gave up wearing the habit. I went to 
 Noli in the territory of Genoa, and there I lived for four 
 or five months by teaching grammar to boys.' 
 
 This closed the first examination of Bruno. Nothing 
 was done upon the two succeeding days, Wednesday and 
 Thursday, May 27 and 28. Upon the Friday, Mocenigo 
 addressed a fresh denunciation to the Inquisitor. This 
 third denunciation contains an offer to swear to its 
 truth, but there is no indication that such an oath was 
 ever administered. It is remarkable as being the only 
 one which makes an imputation of immorality. It is as 
 follows : 
 
 ' As your Very Rev. Fatherhood has charged me to 
 call to mind carefully whatever I have heard said by 
 Giordano Bruno against our Catholic Religion, I re- 
 member having heard him say beside the things which 
 I have written already that the usages of the Church 
 are not those of the Apostles, for that the Apostles 
 converted people by their preaching and the example of 
 their good lives, but that now-a-days anyone who does 
 not wish to be a Catholic has to meet chastisement and 
 punishment, for they use compulsion, and not love, 
 that this world cannot go on as it is, because no religion
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 185 
 
 is good, but only ignorance, that Catholicism pleases 
 him much better than the others, but that even it has 
 need of great changes, and is not well as it now is, 
 but that soon, very soon, the world will see itself re- 
 formed, for that such corruptions cannot go on, and that 
 he hopes great things of the King of Navarre and that 
 the reason why he was in a hurry to publish his works, 
 and to get himself some reputation in this way, was that 
 he hoped that, when the time came, he might be a com- 
 mander and that he should not always remain poor, 
 because he should get some of other people's hoards. 
 He said to me, moreover, touching the ignorance which 
 prevails at the present day and which is greater than 
 any which the world has seen before, that there are 
 people who boast of knowing more than was ever known 
 before, for they say that they know something which 
 they do not understand, namely, that God is One and 
 Three, which thing is impossible, ignorant, and ex- 
 tremely blasphemous against the Majesty of God. 
 
 ' I told him to hold his peace, and to please to be 
 quick with what he had to do for me, for that as I was 
 a Catholic and he was worse than a Lutheran, I could 
 not bear with him. To that he said : " Oh, you will 
 see how you will profit by your belief." And then he 
 laughed and said to me [as a jest] : " Wait for the 
 Day of Judgment, when all will rise again, and then 
 you will see at once the reward of your merit." 
 
 ' Another time, he said to me that, as he thought 
 this Republic extremely wise in other things, it was 
 impossible that it could stultify itself by leaving the 
 friars so rich, and they ought to do as they have done 
 in France, where the noblemen enjoy the incomes of the 
 monasteries, and the friars eat a little broth, which is a 
 good thing, for everybody who becomes a friar now-a-
 
 186 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 days is an ass, and to let them enjoy so much property 
 is a sin. 
 
 ' Besides this, he told me that he was very fond of 
 women, although his collection had not yet reached the 
 number of Solomon's ; and that the Church was very 
 wrong to make a fault of a thing which is so useful to 
 nature, and which he thought a very good work. 
 
 ' This is all that I can remember having heard him 
 say, besides what I have written already. 
 
 ' I assure your Very Rev. Fatherhood, on my oath, 
 that it is all perfectly true. 
 
 ' I send also one of the said Giordano's books, in 
 which I have marked a bad passage. . : .' 
 
 On the following morning (Saturday, May 30) Bruno 
 was again brought before the Inquisitor, with whom sat 
 the Auditor of the Papal Nuncio, and the Lay Assessor, 
 Aloysius Foscari. He was again sworn to speak the 
 truth, and in reply to further questions as to his past 
 life, said : 
 
 ' I remained at Noli, as I have already said, for more 
 than four months, teaching grammar to little boys and 
 the globe (sfera) to some gentlemen. After this I left 
 Noli, and went to Savona, where I stayed about fifteen 
 days. From Savona I came to Turin. I did not find 
 anything to do there such as I sought, so I came to 
 Venice down the Po. At Venice I lodged for a month 
 and a half in the Frezzaria, in the house of some one 
 employed in the Arsenal, whose name I do not know. 
 While I was there I had a little book printed, called 
 Dei segni del tempi. I had it printed in order to get 
 together a little money to live upon. I showed it 
 first to the Rev. Fr. Mr. Remi, of Florence. From 
 Venice I went to Padua, where I found certain Domini- 
 can Fathers whom I knew. They persuaded me to put
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 187 
 
 on the habit again, although I did not mean to return 
 to the Order, because they thought it would be easier 
 for me to travel in the habit. I therefore went to Ber- 
 gamo and got made for myself a cheap white stuff frock, 
 over which I put the scapular which I had kept when I 
 left Rome. Thus attired I started for Lyons. When 
 I was at Chamberi, I went to lodge in the convent of 
 the Order. There I found myself treated very coldly, 
 and when I remarked upon this to an Italian Father 
 who was there, he said : " Take notice that you will 
 meet with no love in these parts, and the farther you 
 go on, the less you will find." Upon this I changed 
 my course and went to Geneva, where I put up at an 
 inn. Soon afterwards, the Marquis of Vico, a Neapolitan 
 who was staying in the city, asked me who I was and if 
 I had come there to embrace the religion of that city. 
 I told him who I was, and why I had left the Order, 
 and I said I had no intention of embracing the religion 
 of that city, because I did not know what religion it 
 was, and that I wanted to remain there in order to live 
 in freedom and to be safe, more than for anything else. 
 He persuaded me in any case to drop the habit which I 
 wore, and I took the cloth, and had made for myself a 
 pair of shoes and other things, and the Marquis and 
 other Italians gave me a sword, an hat, a cloak, and 
 other needful clothes, and got me work at correcting 
 proof-sheets. I did this for about two months, during 
 which I sometimes went to the preachings and sermons 
 both of Italians and Frenchmen, who lectured and 
 preached in the city. Among others, I attended several 
 times at the lectures and sermons of Nicolas Balbarii, 
 of Lucca, who was lecturing upon the Epistles of St. 
 Paul and preaching upon the Gospels. However, when 
 they told me that 1 could not continue to stay there if
 
 188 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 I would not embrace the religion of the city, and that 
 otherwise I should have no help from them, I made up 
 my mind to leave, and went to Lyons. At Lyons I 
 stayed a month, and, as I could find no means of gaining 
 my livelihood, I went thence to Toulouse, where there is 
 a famous university. At Toulouse I met with some in- 
 telligent people and was asked to lecture upon the globe 
 (sfera) to divers students. These lectures, and others 
 upon philosophy, I gave for about six months. The 
 ordinary Chair of Philosophy became vacant. It is given 
 by competitive examination, and, as I had obtained my 
 affiliation as an M.A., I entered for the competition and 
 obtained the place.* I lectured at Toulouse for more 
 than two years upon Aristotle De Anima, and other 
 philosophical subjects. After this, in consequence of the 
 Civil Wars, I left and went to Paris. There I began to 
 give a course of lectures extraordinary, for the purpose 
 of making myself known. They were thirty in number 
 and were upon the Thirty Divine Attributes, taken 
 from the First Part of St. Thomas [Aquinas]. I was 
 then asked to take an ordinary lectureship, but here I 
 stopped and would not take it, because the Public Lec- 
 turers go regularly to Mass and other Divine Services, 
 which is a thing which I have always avoided doing, 
 knowing that I had incurred excommunication by leav- 
 ing my Order and dropping the habit. At Toulouse I 
 held an ordinary lectureship, but was not obliged [to 
 attend Mass] as I should have been at Paris if I had ac- 
 cepted an ordinary lectureship there. By my lectures 
 extraordinary, I acquired such a name that King Henry 
 III. sent for me one day, and asked me if the memory 
 which I had was natural or due to magic. I satisfied 
 
 * Professor Gaggia expresses great doubt as to the truth of this assertion.
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 189 
 
 him and showed him for himself by what I said and did, 
 that it was not magic but science. After this I caused 
 print a book upon memory, intituled De Umbris idearum, 
 which I dedicated to His Majesty, who upon this occa- 
 sion appointed me a salaried lecturer extraordinary.* I 
 went on accordingly giving lectures at Paris, for some- 
 thing like five years. After this, on account of the dis- 
 turbances which had arisen, I asked leave to go, and 
 went to England with letters from the King to his 
 Ambassador in London, M. Michel de Castelneau de la 
 Mauvissiere. I stayed in England in his house for two 
 years and an half, without any employment except that 
 of being a sort of gentleman in waiting upon him. 
 During this time I never went to Mass either in his 
 house or outside it, for the reason which I have already 
 stated. When this Ambassador returned to France, I 
 went back with him to Paris, and there I stayed about 
 a year, in the society of gentlemen whom I knew, but 
 living mostly at my own expense. I left Paris once 
 more on account of the disturbances, and went into 
 Germany, to Mez or Maintz,t which is the seat of an 
 
 * The language used by Bruno regarding Henry III. is an interesting 
 specimen of that which he was prepared to employ towards the great when 
 there was anything to be obtained from them. ' A King so high-minded, 
 so great and so mighty, that from the noblest centre of Europe's heart the 
 fame of his glory rolls in thunder-peals around the uttermost poles of the 
 earth. When, like a lion in his lofty cavern, he roars in anger, he strikes 
 dread and deadly terror into all the other mighty hunters of the forest. 
 When he lays him down and is at rest, he diffuses around him such a breath 
 of liberal and kindly love, as kindles the neighbouring zones, warms the icy 
 Bear, and melts the rigours of the Arctic deserts which lie for ever under 
 the guardianship of the fierce Bootes.' (Cited by Gaggia. Giordano Bmno, 
 p. 16.) 
 
 t It was on his way to Maintz that he stopped at Marburg, and had him- 
 self put down on the Matriculation Roll. Fr. Previti suggests that the 
 ' Mez ' of the MS. may possibly stand for ' Mar,' but the present writer
 
 190 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 Archbishop, who is the first Elector of the Empire. 
 There I stayed about twelve days, but as I could not 
 find either there or at Wurzburg, which is not far 
 distant, such treatment as I wanted, I went to Wittem- 
 berg in Saxony. There I found that there were two 
 factions, one composed of Calvinistic Philosophers, and 
 the other of Lutheran Theologians, among the former 
 of whom was the Professor of Law, Alberigo Gentile, 
 whom I had known in England. He favoured me, and 
 enabled me to lecture upon the Organon of Aristotle. 
 This I did, along with other lectures upon philosophy, 
 for two years. In the meanwhile the old Duke, who 
 was a Calvinist, was succeeded by his grandson, and the 
 father [of the new Duke], who was a Lutheran, began 
 to show favour to the party opposite to that which 
 favoured me. I therefore left Wittemberg and went to 
 Prague, where I stayed six months, and had printed a 
 book upon Geometry,""" which I dedicated to the Emperor, 
 who gave me 300 thalers. With this sum I went on to 
 
 O 
 
 Brunswick, where I remained a year at the Academia 
 Julia. During that time the Duke died, and his grand- 
 son who succeeded him, gave me 80 scudi (of those 
 parts) for a funeral speech which I composed upon him 
 in competition with many other members of the Uni- 
 versity. Thereupon T left Brunswick and went to 
 Frankfort, in order to get two books printed, one, De 
 
 confesses he thinks that it is more likely to indicate ' Maintz ' and that 
 Bruno had either forgotten his visit to Marburg or thought it unworthy 
 of mention : the word which is represented above by ' Maintz ' is 
 ' Magonza,' and it is possible that the passage ought to be read ' Maintz 
 alias Magonza,' Bruno giving both the German and the Italian names of 
 the place. 
 
 * It is the Jordani Bruni Nolani CLX articuli adversus hujtis tempestatis 
 Mathematicos atque Philosophos.
 
 GIOKDANO BRUNO. 191 
 
 triplici minima et mensura, and the other, De monade, 
 numero, et figura. At Frankfort I lodged for about 
 six months in the Carmelite Convent, which was the 
 place assigned to me by the printer, who was bound to 
 find me lodging. From Frankfort I came to Venice, 
 seven or eight months ago, as I stated in my last de- 
 position, upon the invitation of the Ser John Mocenigo ; 
 and those things have since taken place which I have 
 related in my last deposition ; and I was going to 
 Frankfort again from here in order to get other works 
 of mine printed, and one in especial upon the Seven 
 Liberal Arts, with the intention of taking these and 
 some others of my printed works, both those which I 
 [still] approve, and some that I do not approve, and 
 going to present myself at the feet of his Blessedness 
 [the Pope], of whom I have heard say that he loves the 
 learned, and explaining my case to him, and trying to 
 obtain leave to live as a clergyman outside my Order. 
 When the Chapter of the Order was held here lately, 
 attended by many Fathers from Naples, I spoke about 
 this to some of them, and in particular to Father 
 Dominic of Nocera, the Master of Studies, to Father 
 Serafino of Nocera, to Friar John, as to whom I do not 
 know whence he comes except that he is from the 
 Kingdom of Naples, and as to another who himself left 
 the Order but has taken the habit again, he is from 
 Atripalda. 1 do not know his name, but in the Order he 
 said he was called Friar Felix. Besides these Fathers, 
 I have spoken on the subject to Ser John Mocenigo, 
 who promised to help me in anything that was good/ 
 
 Asked what he meant by works of his own which 
 he did not now approve, Bruno replied that in some ot 
 his printed works he had not spoken from a sufficiently 
 Christian standpoint, but too much from that of a mere
 
 192 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 philosopher, and improperly (dishonestamente) , and, in 
 particular, that he had treated of things which Chris- 
 tianity teaches us to ascribe to the power, wisdom, and 
 goodness of God, too exclusively upon the grounds of 
 reason, and not of faith. For particular cases he re- 
 ferred to his works, not being able to recall any one 
 point at the moment, but would answer to the best of 
 his power any questions which might be put to him. 
 
 This closed the second day of Bruno's examination. 
 The next day (Sunday) the Inquisitor met Fr. Dominic 
 of Nocera, and asked him to send in a written state- 
 ment, which he did. It entirely confirms the statement 
 of Bruno ns to the conversation which had passed be- 
 tween them. On the Tuesday (June 2) the accused 
 was brought up for the third time. There were present, 
 besides the Inquisitor, the Patriarch of Venice, the 
 Papal Nuncio, and the Lay Assessor Sebastian Bar- 
 badico. Bruno was again sworn, and the examination 
 was continued. 
 
 Asked for an account of his works, he gave in a 
 written list of them, and stated that they had all been 
 composed by him except the last (De Sigillis Hermetis 
 et aliorum), which was a mere transcript from a MS. 
 He admitted that nearly all of his books, including all 
 those purporting to be printed at Venice and some at 
 Paris or elsewhere, had really been printed in England, 
 and said that this had been done by advice of the 
 printer, who thought it would get them a better sale. 
 He continued, in reply to further questions, that his 
 books treated of divers matters, as might be seen from 
 their titles, but that, speaking generally, they were 
 .purely philosophical. Being therefore written from a 
 point of view entirely natural, and from which the 
 question of revelation was expressly excluded for the
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 193 
 
 sake of argument, he believed that there was nothing 
 in them which could be taken to be an attack upon 
 religion, although, for the reason above expressed, there 
 were things in them which were in themselves incom- 
 patible with revealed doctrine. 
 
 The examination now enters upon the stage of Bruno's 
 doctrine. This is particularly interesting. There does 
 not, indeed, seem to be any divergence of opinion as to 
 the real nature of what is often called the Nolan Phil- 
 osophy, among those who have taken the trouble to 
 look into it, whether they be the admirers or the oppo- 
 nents of Bruno. The only difference between them is 
 whether the opinions in question are true or not. All 
 are agreed that Bruno's doctrine is not only Pantheism, 
 but Pantheism of so iow a form as to be, to any plain 
 man's mind, practically indistinguishable from Atheism. 
 ' His own works,' says his opponent, Professor Gaggia, 
 * are the most striking proof that the opinions of Bruno 
 are not only (to use the word of Berti) irreconcilable 
 with any dogmatic Christian teaching, but also, as I 
 will add, with any religion. . . . Call Brunism 
 what you like Monism, Pantheism, Panmonotheism, 
 Objective Realism, Objective Idealism, Emanationism, 
 Immanism I call it plainly the Negation of God, of 
 that God, I mean, of whom I first heard at my mother's 
 knee.' ' To him,' says his ardent admirer, Stiavelli, 
 'all religions were beasts to be rid of.' A kind of 
 obscurity is, however, sometimes introduced by the fact 
 that he occasionally uses, under protest, and in a sorb 
 of allegorical sense, terms drawn from the vocabulary of 
 Theism or of Christianity. Thus, by the term ' God ' 
 or ' God the Father ' he meant the material universe ;* 
 
 He prefers the term ' Jove,' if something of the kind was to be used. 
 
 N
 
 194 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 by ' God the Son/ intelligence ; by ' God the Holy 
 Ghost/ love ; by ' Providence/ the fixed laws of nature; 
 by 'the sou\, vitality,' in the sense in which (as he remarks 
 in his book De Causa, etc.) it may be predicted equally 
 of a man or of a sea- weed. And so on. Bruno was now 
 to explain this system to the Inquisition, and, limited 
 as is the space here at the disposal of the present writer, 
 it is impossible to do the accused any justice without 
 quoting him at some length. 
 
 Asked whether he had ever, either publicly or privately 
 in his lectures in different places, taught, held, or main- 
 tained anything contrary to the Catholic faith accord- 
 ing to the terms of the Roman Church, he replied by 
 again drawing a distinction between (a) his own teach- 
 ing, which he asserted to be orthodox to the best of his 
 belief, (6) his statements as matters of historical fact as 
 to what were the opinions of others, and (c) philosophi- 
 cal contentions in discussions in which the hypothesis 
 of revelation was, for the sake of argument, formally set 
 aside for the time being. He referred to his works, and 
 then continued : 
 
 ' I hold the existence of an Infinite Universe, or effect 
 of the Infinite Divine Power, because I think that it 
 would be a thing unworthy of the Divine goodness and 
 power, that, being able to produce a world other than 
 this, and infinite others, it should have produced only 
 a finite world. I have taught the existence of infinite 
 particular worlds like this world of the Earth, which I, 
 along with Pythagoras, understand to be a planet, such 
 as are the moon, the other planets, and the other stars, 
 which are infinite [in number], and that all these bodies 
 are worlds, and countless, and which therefore consti- 
 tute the Infinite Universe in Infinite Space, and this I 
 call the Universal Infinite, in which are innumerable
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 195 
 
 worlds, in such a way that there is a double kind of 
 Infinity of greatness in the Universe and of multiplicity 
 of worlds ; and by this is understood * (sintende), a 
 denial of the truth (repugnata la veritd) according to 
 faith. Moreover, I place in this Universe an Universal 
 Providence by the power whereof everything lives, 
 grows, moves, and attains its perfection ; this I under- 
 stand in two ways : first, in the same way in which the 
 soul is present in the body in all and every part, and 
 this I call Nature, a shadow and trace of the Divinity ; 
 and secondly, in that unspeakable way in which God, 
 by His essence, presence, and power, is in everything 
 and over everything, not as a part, not as a soul, but 
 inexplicably. Moreover, in common with the theologians 
 and greatest philosophers, I understand that in the 
 Divinity all the attributes are one and the same thing. 
 I understand three attributes, Power, Wisdom, and 
 Goodness or Mind, Intelligence, and Love. Thereby 
 things have, first, being, by reason of the mind ; then, 
 ordered and distinct being, by reason of the intelligence; 
 and thirdly, harmony and symmetry by reason of love, 
 which I understand to be in all and above all, since 
 nothing which is has not being, just as nothing which 
 is beautiful has not beauty, and as in the Divine Being 
 there is nothing absent, and thus, by way of reason and 
 not by way of substantial truth, I understand distinc- 
 tion in the Divinity. Believing that in this sense the 
 
 * This seems to refer to a statement at the beginning of his answer that 
 it had been ' judged at Paris ' that some of his philosophical theses were 
 repugnant to faith. It will be observed that he avoids stating that any 
 difficulty about two co-extensive Infinites had ever occurred to himself, 
 which could only have been the case supposing the existence of an Indnite 
 other than that consisting in a material universe. But this explanation 
 was, naturally enough, not one which he pressed upon the attention of 
 the Inquisition.
 
 196 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 world is a thing produced by a cause, I understood that 
 being is in all points dependent upon the first cause, so 
 that I did not shrink from speaking of " creation," by 
 which I understand with Aristotle that God is that 
 Being on whom the world, along- with all Nature, 
 
 O * O ' 
 
 depends, so that, according to the explanation of St. 
 Thomas [Aquinas], whether it be eternal or whether it 
 be temporal, it is by its very nature dependent upon 
 the first cause, and there is nothing independent in it. 
 Then to come to speak of each of the Divine Persons, 
 not philosophically but as to that which belongs to 
 faith, I, standing within the limits of philosophy, have 
 not understood, but have doubted, and have held with 
 wavering faith, that Wisdom and Son of the Mind, 
 Whom philosophers call Intelligence and theologians the 
 Word, Whom one ought to believe to have taken 
 human flesh : not that I remember ever having given 
 any sign of such [doubt] either in writing or by word, 
 unless it be that anyone has ever gathered it in- 
 directly from my tone or from any statement of mine 
 as to what can be proved by reason and concluded by 
 the light of nature. Thus also as regards the Divine 
 Spirit as a Third Person, I have not been able to under- 
 stand it as one ought to believe it, but according to the 
 Pythagorean manner conformable to that which 
 Solomon shows, I have understood it to be the Soul 
 of the Universe, as saitb the Wisdom of Solomon (I., 7), 
 "The Spirit of the Lord filleth the world, and that 
 which containeth all things," which is quite conformable 
 with the Pythagorean doctrine expressed by Virgil in 
 the ^Eneid : 
 
 Principle ccelum, et terras, caraposqne liquentes, 
 Lucentemque globum Innae, Titaniaqne astra 
 Spiritus intus alit, totamque infusa per arctus 
 Mens aritat molem.
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 197 
 
 And so on. From this Spirit, which is called the Life 
 of the Universe, I understand in my philosophy that 
 life and soul come to everything which has soul and life, 
 which I understand to be immortal, as all also are im- 
 mortal with regard to the matter (substantiaj of their 
 bodies, since death is only a redistribution of elements, 
 a doctrine which seems to be expressed by the Ecclesi- 
 astes, where he says " There is no new thing under the 
 sun. . . . The thing that hath been, it is that 
 which shall be " (Eccl. I. 9), and the rest.' 
 
 Question. ' As a matter of fact, has deponent held, 
 arid does he hold, and believe in the Trinity, Father, 
 Son, and Holy Ghost, One in Being but distinct in 
 Persons, as has been taught and believed by the 
 Catholic Church ?' 
 
 Answer. ' Speaking as a Christian, and according to 
 Theology, and to what every faithful Christian and 
 Catholic ought to believe, I have, as a matter of fact, 
 doubted as to the [giving of the] name of Person to the 
 Son and to the Holy Ghost, not understanding that 
 these two persons are distinct from the Father, other- 
 wise than in the way which I have already expressed 
 speaking philosophically, and taking the Intelligence of 
 the Father to be the Son, and the Love, the Holy Ghost, 
 without recognising the term " Person," of which St. 
 Augustine says that it was not old but new, and of his 
 own day ; and this opinion I have held since I was 
 eighteen years of age until now ; but, as a matter of 
 fact, I have never denied, taught, nor written, but only 
 doubted in my own mind, as I have said.' 
 
 Asked whether he had believed with the Catholic 
 Church as concerns the First Person, or had ever 
 doubted concerning Him, he answered : ' I have be- 
 lieved and held undoubtingly all that a faithful
 
 198 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 Christian ought to believe and hold concerning the 
 First Person.' In answer to further questions he 
 answered that he had held the Second and Third 
 Persons to be really One in Being with the First, 
 because, being undivided in Being they cannot suffer 
 inequality, and all the attributes which belong to the 
 Father belong also to the Son and to the Holy Ghost. 
 He continued that he had doubted how the Second 
 Person had taken flesh and had suffered, but had never 
 said so, except as stating what other people had 
 thought, as, for instance, Arius. This, he suspected, 
 had been one of the things written about him to Rome 
 in 1576. He remembered also having explained what 
 he believed to have really been the doctrines of Arius, 
 at Venice. 
 
 The Court here adjourned. When the examination 
 was resumed, the extremely small interest taken in the 
 prisoner and the proceedings is evidenced by the fact 
 that all the Inquisitor's companions had deserted him : 
 the Lay Assessor, Barbadico, had given leave to go on 
 in his absence, and the Nuncio was represented by his 
 Auditor, and the Patriarch by his Vicar. Bruno, again 
 asked as to whether he had ever said or written any- 
 thing contrary to the Catholic Religion, or directly or 
 indirectly opposing the Holy See, replied by repeating 
 the same distinction as before with regard to the 
 different elements in his works. 
 
 Asked as to the Incarnation, he replied, as before, 
 that he doubted as to how it had been, but had never 
 written, and did not remember ever having said, any- 
 thing about it. Further interrogated, he again pro- 
 fessed his belief in the Trinity, but his objections to the 
 word ' Person,' citing the words of Augustine, ' Cum
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 199 
 
 formidine proferimus hoc nomen personce, quando 
 loquimur de divinis, et necessitate coacti utimur.' 
 
 Asked what, since he had doubted concerning the 
 Incarnation, he had thought of Christ ; he replied : ' I 
 have thought that the Divinity of the Word was pre- 
 sent with (assistesse cl) the humanity of Christ indi- 
 visibly,* and I have not been able to understand that 
 the union was like that of body and soul, but a presence 
 such that it could be truly said of the man that he was 
 God, and of the Divinity, that It was man, and this by 
 reason of the fact that between infinite and Divine 
 being, and finite and human being, there is no such 
 
 o J * 
 
 proportion as there is between soul and body or any 
 other two things which can constitute a common subsis- 
 tent, and this is, I believe, the reason why St. 
 Augustine (in some place which I cannot at this 
 moment call to mind) expresses a dislike to the applica- 
 tion of the word " Person " to this case. In short, as to 
 my doubts upon the Incarnation, I believe I have 
 wavered concerning the ineffable mode of the same, but 
 not as against the Scripture, which says " And the 
 Word was made flesh," or the Creed [which says] " And 
 He was incarnate," etc.' 
 
 Asked to speak more clearly, he answered that his 
 doubt about the Incarnation had been whether it was 
 theologically tenable that the Divinity was with the 
 Humanity otherwise than by way of presence (modo di 
 assistentia) without thereby intending anything against 
 the Divinity of Christ, or of that Divine Thing 
 (supposito) Which is called Christ. 
 
 Asked what his belief was upon the miracles, actions, 
 
 * It is needless to point out that if ' God ' simply means ' matter,' the 
 same thing might be said of a dog or of a stone.
 
 200 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 and death of Christ, he answered as to the miracles 
 only. The reply is consistent with orthodoxy, and in- 
 cludes the statement that they were ' divine, true, real, 
 and not sham (apparentij, and that he had never 
 thought, spoken, or believed otherwise.' 
 
 Asked as to Transubstantiation and the Sacrifice of 
 the Mass, he professed the most unswerving and com- 
 plete faith in both. He said he had not gone to Mass, 
 from reverence, fearing to present himself there in his 
 state of excommunication, although he had attended 
 other services, such as Vespers, and sermons : that he 
 had not only abstained from receiving the Communion 
 with Calvinists, Lutherans, etc., but even from speaking 
 with them on this subject, from which they had been 
 led into the error of thinking that he was a man with- 
 out any religion. 
 
 Asked if he had ever said that Christ was not God, 
 but an evildoer, who could easily foretell from his own 
 acts what his end would be, and who made it clear 
 enough that he died against his will Bruno denied 
 vehemently that he had ever thought or said such 
 tilings, and repeated several times, with signs of great 
 distress, that he could not imagine how they could ever 
 have been ascribed to him. 
 
 Asked as to the Motherhood of the Blessed Virgin, 
 he answered that he had always held that Christ ' was 
 conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary,' 
 and was ready to bear any punishment if he could be 
 found to have said or held the contrary. 
 
 Asked as to Confession and Absolution, he replied : 
 ' I know that the Sacrament of Penance has been or- 
 dained to purge away our sins, and never, never, never 
 have I spoken of this matter, and I have always held 
 that whoever dies in mortal sin is damned.' Further
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 201 
 
 questioned, he said : ' During sixteen years I have 
 only tried to go to confession twice. Once was to a 
 priest at Toulouse. The other time was to another 
 priest at Paris, when I was in communication with the 
 Bishop of Bergamo, who was then nuncio there, and 
 with Don Bernardino da Mendoza, about going back 
 into my Order. And they told me that they could not 
 absolve me, because I was an apostate, and that I could 
 not go to the Divine Offices. And that is why I did 
 not confess or go to Mass. But I meant some day to 
 get myself free from these censures, and to live as a 
 Christian and a friar. And whenever I have sinned I 
 have asked the Lord God to forgive me. And I would 
 gladly have gone to confession if I had been able. For 
 I have never had any doubts about this Sacrament, 
 nor about any of the others. And I firmly believe 
 that unrepentant sinners are damned and go to hell.' 
 
 Asked whether he believed the soul to be immortal, 
 and in the transmigration of souls, as the Inquisition 
 had been informed, he answered that he believed in the 
 immortality of the soul, and explained the sense in 
 which he had discussed the transmigration of souls 
 from a purely philosophical stand-point.* 
 
 Asked if he had studied Theology, he answered that 
 he had done so but little, his pursuits being almost en- 
 tirely philosophical. 
 
 * Some of his classical passages regarding the soul and the doctrine of 
 transmigration are in the Cabala del Cavalla Pegaseo, whence they are cited 
 by Prof. Gaggia (Giordano Bruno, p. 27). Thus he says, for example, that 
 since all things palpable, whether men, beasts, vegetables, or anything else, 
 do not differ from one another essentially but only incidentally, and that 
 nothing in the Universe can be annihilated or can undergo any change be- 
 yond a re-arrangement of its component elements (such as is consequent 
 upon death), the doctrine of metempsychosis, that is, of the passage of the 
 spirit into another body, begins to present itself to his mind in a favourable 
 and probable light.
 
 202 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 Asked if he had spoken evil of Theologians, he an- 
 swered that he had perhaps spoken disapprovingly of 
 some Protestant Theologians, but never of orthodox 
 Catholic Theologians, whom he had always esteemed, 
 ' especially St. Thomas [Aquinas], whose works I have 
 always kept by me, read, studied, and held very 
 dear.' 
 
 Asked what he meant by ' heretical theologians/ he 
 answered, all who profess to be theologians but do not 
 agree with the Church of Rome. 
 
 Asked if he had read any books of such, and, if so, 
 what, he answered that he had read books by Melanc- 
 thon, Luther, Calvin, and others, out of curiosity, but 
 had never kept them by him (being formally anti- 
 Catholic) as he had kept books of other condemned 
 writers, such as Raymond Lullio. He proceeded to 
 speak with great contempt of the Protestant writers, 
 and to praise the Catholic, ' especially St. Thomas, 
 whom I have always esteemed and loved as my own 
 soul,' and he refers to his own work De Monade, etc. 
 
 Question. ' Then why did you dare to say that the 
 Catholic Faith is full of blasphemy, and that it is of no 
 merit in the sight of God ? ' 
 
 Answer. 'I have never said anything of the sort, 
 either in writing, word, or thought.' 
 
 Question. ' How many things are necessary for sal- 
 vation ? ' 
 
 Answer. ' Faith, Hope, and Charity.' 
 
 Question. ' Are good works necessary for salvation ? 
 Or is it enough not to do unto others as we would not 
 that they should do unto us, and to lead a moral life ? ' 
 
 Answer. ' I have always held, and do hold that 
 good works are necessary for salvation.' He proceeded 
 to cite his book De causa, etc., and especially the follow-
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 203 
 
 ing passage upon justification by Faith only : ' Those 
 kinds of religionists who teach the people to believe in 
 faith, without works, which are the end of all religions, 
 are more worthy to be extirpated from the earth than 
 serpents, dragons, or other beasts which are poison ous 
 to mankind, because, if people are savage, such faith 
 makes them more savage still, and, if they are naturally 
 good, it makes them become bad.' He proceeded to 
 impugn the employment of the word ' religion ' to indi- 
 cate systems teaching Justification by Faith only, after 
 which he made the well-worn pleasantry of calling the 
 Reformation the Deformation. 
 
 He was then questioned as to what he was alleged to 
 have said regarding the religious Orders, and the 
 imminent necessity of a General Reformation. All this 
 he denied absolutely, asserting that some of the state- 
 ments were actually contrary to the things which he 
 had really said, and expressing surprise that they should 
 be imputed to him. 
 
 The examination then passed to the opinions which 
 he was said to have expressed against religious perse- 
 cution. These also he denied, appealing to his pub- 
 lished works. 
 
 The reply is very important in view of the astonishing 
 fact that Bruno's admirers very often call him a Martyr 
 to the principle of liberty of thought. He said : 
 
 ' It is true that I remember having said that the 
 Apostles did more by their preaching, their good life, 
 their example, and their miracles, than can be done 
 now by force, but not in the sense of thereby denying 
 any remedy such as the Holy Church uses against 
 heretics and bad Christians, as I have said above, and 
 shown in my book, when I say it behoves to extirpate 
 those who, under pretext of Religion or Reformation,
 
 204 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 take away works ; and you may judge by many other 
 places in my works whether I have blamed or do blame 
 such remedies and the proceeding to due chastisement 
 against the stubborn/ 
 
 Asked whether he had ever said that the miracles of 
 Christ and His Apostles were shams performed by 
 magic, and that he himself had only to choose to do so, 
 in order to do the same and more, and make all the 
 world run after him, he raised his hands and cried : 
 ' What is this ? Who has ever accused me of such 
 devilries? I have never said or dreamt such a thing. 
 God ! what is this ? I would rather have died than 
 that such things should be said to me.' 
 
 Asked whether he had used the expressions, ' You 
 will see how you will profit by your belief,' and ' Wait 
 for the Day of Judgment, and then you will see at once 
 the reward of your merit,' he denied vehemently, 
 appealing to his published works to show the absurdity 
 of attributing them to him. 
 
 Asked as to the sexual act outside of marriage, he 
 
 O ' 
 
 expressed regret for having said thoughtlessly in worldly 
 company that simple fornication was next door to a 
 venial sin. The other sayings attributed to him on 
 these matters he either denied or explained. It is note- 
 worthy that no more questions upon such topics were 
 addressed to the author of the Candelajo* 
 
 * Professor Gaggia, of Brescia, in a published lecture, gives references 
 to Bruno's printed works, showing that his advocacy of views such as 
 are above indicated had not been by any means confined to expressions 
 used ' thoughtlessly, in worldly company,' and of Bruno's great dramatic 
 work, the Candelajo, he says : ' I confess that I have read this shameful 
 comedy. I read it because it was my duty to read it. But my eyes some- 
 times rebelled against the task, and my soul felt oppressed and frightened 
 as if a legion of evil spirits were assaulting it. The foulest obscenity of 
 the gutter overflows in every part of it. He has lavished the most loath-
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 205 
 
 The Court then addressed him very gravely, pointing 
 out to him that his career had been such as to make it 
 not incredihle that he had said and held more than he 
 had now admitted, such as and here they read him a 
 a sort of catena of statements attributed to him by 
 Mocenigo, though of course without giving the name of 
 the latter. Hence they entreated him most seriously 
 to look into himself, and to be perfectly honest and 
 thorough in his statements, assuring him of their desire 
 to treat him with all the tenderness which they could 
 conscientiously use, having regard to the good of his 
 own soul. They warned him, however, that if he per- 
 sisted in denying facts of the truth of which the Court 
 had conclusive evidence, he would be liable to be treated 
 as impenitent. To this Bruno answered : 
 
 some filth upon it. Without the wit and grace with which Machiavelli 
 bedizens the indecencies of his Mandragola, without any of the sparkling 
 dialogue of Pietro d' Arezzo or of Ariosto, Bruno has gathered out of these 
 authors everything which he could find in them in the shape of cold- 
 blooded lewdness, and collected it together with what he himself calls a 
 deuce of a power of talking dirt (latrinesco) enough to make heaven sick.' 
 (Giordano Bruno, pp. 40, 41, 42). II Candelajo was published at Paris in 
 1582, but many think that it was written much earlier : some even attri- 
 buting it to the period when he was exercising the priesthood at Naples. 
 It is dedicated to ' the lady Morgana,' and it has been conjectured with 
 much probability that the name of the enchantress veils the identity of 
 some Neapolitan woman, his relations with whom formed the turning-point 
 of his career. This comedy, taken along with the language which he else- 
 where employs concerning women, and of which Professor Gaggia gives an 
 interesting collection (although there is one word which comes between 
 ' cesxo ' and ' caroyna ' which he can only represent by . . . ) throws 
 a striking light upon the attitude adopted towards them by a man (!) who, 
 like all others, had had a mother. The word Candelajo itself will not be 
 found in any ordinary Italian Dictionary, and has a peculiar meaning, 
 which it is not necessary here to give. 
 
 Are we, or are we not, to belive that when Mesdames C. Oppenheim 
 and Ashurst-Venturi gave their names to appear publicly as promoting the 
 monument to Bruno, they knew what was his attitude and language in re- 
 lation to their sex ?
 
 206 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 ' So may God forgive me my sins as I have spoken 
 the truth on everything I have been asked, as far as my 
 memory served me. Still, for my greater contentment 
 and satisfaction, I will think again over all that I have 
 ever done, and if I remember anything that I may have 
 said or done against the Christian and Catholic Faith, 
 I will own it freely. I protest that I have spoken 
 what is just and true, and will so speak in the future, 
 and I trust that I shall never be convicted of acting 
 otherwise.' 
 
 Thus ended by far the longest and most important 
 day of the trial of Giordano Bruno before the Venetian 
 Inquisition. It is at first sight rather puzzling to 
 understand why he admitted so much, even making 
 allowance for the alarm which he may now have been 
 beginning to feel, and for the possibility of some emo- 
 tions of regret at his past life, such as are perhaps 
 evidenced by his two attempts to go to confession 
 when in France. The difficulty of explaining his 
 conduct especially applies to those passages in his 
 deposition where he states, as it were, gratuitously, 
 that he had had mental doubts upon certain points, 
 but could not remember ever having before ex- 
 pressed them. The true solution is perhaps to be 
 found in the fact that he must have been very 
 much in the dark as to what the Tribunal really 
 knew concerning his opinions and practices, either 
 by acquaintance with his works, or by the evidence 
 of witnesses. It is well to remember, that in Mocenigo's 
 second denunciation, he states that Bruno had said 
 to him ' that he did not remember ever having 1 said 
 
 O 
 
 anything wrong to him (Mocenigo), and that, even 
 if he had, it had not been in the presence of witnesses^ 
 and that consequently he had no ground for fearing that
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 207 
 
 he could do him any harm on that score/ We find him 
 denying a good deal outright. The answers in some 
 cases certainly seem to point to Mocenigo's having mis- 
 understood or misinterpreted him. As to others, the 
 reader will perhaps be able to form his own opinion as 
 to which of the two is most likely to have been lying. 
 A good deal more, Bruno explained in a more or less 
 satisfactory manner. As to the last class of admissions 
 those of mental doubts, never before expressed, as far 
 as he could remember he may have calculated that 
 the Inquisition either would or would not know from 
 other sources whether he had broached these doctrines 
 or not : if they were to know that he had, he could then 
 represent his present denial of the fact as merely a 
 failure of memory ; if they did not, he could not have 
 damaged himself much by the avowal : and in either 
 case, he would be able to claim the credit of honesty and 
 straightforwardness. Finally, he covered everything 
 with profuse, solemn, and repeated protestations of re- 
 gret for the past, and of desire and intention of amend- 
 ment for the future. The whole picture is certainly not 
 an agreeable one to contemplate. 
 
 On the next day, Wednesday, June 3rd, he had to 
 compear again, now for the fourth time. The entire in- 
 difference felt concerning him and his whole case, was 
 again manifested by the Lay Assessor, Barbadico, send- 
 ing permission to go on in his absence, and by the 
 Nuncio and Patriarch being represented by their Auditor 
 and Vicar, respectively. 
 
 Bruno was now asked if he had been able to think of 
 anything more to say, and everything he had already 
 deposed was carefully read over to him. When this 
 vast task was completed, he said he remembered having 
 been entirely indifferent to all Church regulations, as to
 
 208 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 Days of Fasting and Abstinence, etc., having simply 
 done in this respect as his companions for the time 
 being had done, and often not even knowing what day 
 or season it was. 
 
 Asked what he thought of such rules, he answered 
 that he thought them godly arid holy, and ' so God help 
 him' he had never broken them out of mere contempt. 
 He added that he had attended Protestant services 
 from curiosity more than taste, and had always gone 
 away ' when the hour came for them to distribute the 
 bread after the manner of their Supper.' The Court 
 remarked that this seemed hardly probable/" consider- 
 ing his conformity in other things ; but he maintained 
 his statement. 
 
 He continued, that he wished to explain what he 
 meant by saying that he had had doubts as to the In- 
 carnation. He had, be said, never doubted that Christ 
 was the Son of God, and born of the Blessed ever- Virgin 
 Mary, nor anything else regarding His Person, and cer- 
 tainly had never expressed any such doubt, but, to re- 
 lieve his conscience, he had said that he had doubted as 
 to the Incarnation, and feared he had failed to express 
 himself clearly. He now wished to explain that his 
 doubt had been whether the disproportion between the 
 Infinite and Divine and the finite and human was not 
 such as to render impossible their union in one hypos- 
 tasis (supposito) as soul and body make one man, and 
 that consequently the union must have been by a pre- 
 sence of the Divinity with the Humanity (che la Divinita 
 assistevse all' humanita). so that, when we speak of the 
 
 * The Court seems here to have shown a curious guilelessness. The 
 author of the Candelajo was not likely to have become a communicant of 
 any church, nor, in especial, to have taken kindly to the social regulations 
 of Geneva.
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 209 
 
 Eternal Trinity, we must regard the Humanity as a 
 Thing added, as the Abbat Joachim seemed to have 
 understood. But that he did not mean to indicate a 
 Quaternity, such as Joachim spoke of. And that in 
 any case he accepted the teaching of ' Our Holy 
 Mother the Church/ 
 
 Asked whether his doctrine, thus explained, did not 
 imply an Human [as well as a Divine] Personalit}' in 
 Christ, he admitted he saw this difficulty, and had only 
 stated his teaching 'to explain, and confess his error,' 
 and would not have fallen into it if he had given the 
 subject more thought. 
 
 As to other points, such as the Miracles of Christ 
 and his Apostles, the Church, the Sacraments, the 
 Keligious Orders, and the sexual act, he iterated his 
 former declarations, citing in support the testimony of 
 his works. 
 
 Asked as to the creation of the human soul, and 
 whether it is simply engendered from corruption, etc., 
 he replied that he had only said such a thing as stating 
 historically what had been the belief of Lucretius, Epi- 
 curus, etc. 
 
 Asked if he had ever kept a book of incantations, or 
 leant to divination, or the like, he answered that he 
 had always despised such things, and never kept such 
 books. The only thing concerning divination was that, 
 as he had told many persons, he had intended, out of 
 curiosity, if he ever had leisure, to study [the branch of] 
 judicial astrology [called Horary Questions] to see if 
 there was anything in it. 
 
 Asked if he had ever said that the world was ruled 
 by fate, and not by the Providence of God, he absolutely 
 denied, appealing to the testimony of his works. 
 
 Asked if in his writings h e had ever made mention of
 
 210 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 the ' Supper of Ashes ' (Cena delli Ceneri}, and what he 
 meant by it,* he answered that he had published an 
 astronomical book of that name, so called because it was 
 based on his conversation with some doctors (medici) at 
 a supper in the house of the French Ambassador in 
 England, one Ash Wednesday ; that there might be 
 errors in the book, which he could not now remember ; 
 but that the main object of it was to turn the doctors 
 and their opinions into ridicule. 
 
 Asked if he had praised heretics, he replied that he 
 had praised some for their individual virtues, but 
 admitted that he had done wrong in calling Queen 
 Elizabeth Divine (Diva). 
 
 Asked if he knew the King of Navarre, had great 
 hopes of him, as to a General Reformation, etc., he 
 answered that he did not know him ; believed his pro- 
 fession of Protestantism to be insincere ; hoped that, if 
 he obtained the Crown of France, he might treat him 
 as well as the last king had, and denied the other 
 points. He denied also that he had ever expressed the 
 hope of becoming a soldier or being enriched with other 
 men's goods. 
 
 Asked if he had anything more to say, he replied in 
 the negative. 
 
 Asked if he now renounced his errors, he said : 
 
 ' All the errors which I have committed up to this 
 day in matters concerning the Catholic life, and the 
 monastic profession to which I belong, and all the 
 heresies which I have held, and the doubts which I 
 
 * Query. Were the authorities of the Inquisition really ignorant as to 
 the nature of this book, La CetM de le Ceneri, printed in London (with a 
 false statement of being printed at Paris) in 1584 ? Or did they merely 
 ask this question in order to throw Bruno off his guard, by generating the 
 idea that they knew less about his works than they really did ?
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 211 
 
 have had concerning the Catholic Faith and concerning 
 things determined by Holy Church, I do now renounce 
 and abhor ; and I repent of ever having done, held, said, 
 believed, or doubted anything otherwise than as a 
 Catholic ; and I beseech this Sacred Tribunal, which 
 knows my weakness, to be pleased to embrace me again 
 within the bosom of Holy Church, and to provide me 
 with remedies adapted for my salvation, and to treat 
 me with mercy/ 
 
 He was then questioned as to the proceedings taken 
 against him at Rome in 1576, but could tell nothing 
 more, speaking again of the pictures of Saints, the book 
 on the Joys of the Blessed Virgin, and the conversation 
 on the doctrines of Arius. He said, however, that at 
 Naples he had secretly kept and used a prohibited book 
 of Erasmus upon St. John Chrysostom and St. Jerome, 
 which he had heard had been found after his departure. 
 
 Lastly, in reply to a question, he stated his baptismal 
 name. 
 
 The next day, June 4th, he appeared once more before 
 the Inquisitor, who was now again accompanied by the 
 Papal Nuncio, the Patriarch of Venice, and the Lay 
 Assessor, Sebastian Barbadico. The whole of his 
 depositions were read over to him again, and he was 
 asked if there was anything which he wished to add, 
 alter, or withdraw, but he replied in the negative, and 
 confirmed the whole again upon oath. He was next 
 asked if he had anything more to say as to incantations 
 and divination, and replied that there was nothing but 
 the book which he had had copied at Padua, to use in 
 connection with judicial astrology, but he had not read 
 it, and did not know if there was anything in it except 
 natural divination. He was then asked if he had at 
 Venice any enemy or ill-wisher, and, if so, for what
 
 212 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 cause ? He answered : ' I hold no man here for my 
 enemy, except John Mocenigo, and his followers and 
 servants. He has wronged me more than any man liv- 
 ing. He has stabbed (assassincUo) me in my life, my 
 honour, and my property. He imprisoned me in his 
 own house, and seized my writings, my books, and my 
 property. And this he did because he wished not only 
 that I should teach him all that I knew, but also that 
 I might not be able to teach anyone else, and he has 
 continually threatened me in my life and honour if I 
 would not teach him what I knew.' 
 
 This closed the fifth examination. There followed a 
 long interval. On June 23rd, the historian, Andrew 
 Morosini, was examined before the Inquisitor, in presence 
 of the Patriarch, the Auditor of the Nuncio, and the 
 Lay Assessor, Thomas Mauroceno. There is nothing of 
 any importance in his evidence. He said Bruno had 
 been introduced to him as a man of letters, by the book- 
 seller Ciotti, and had attended the literary parties in 
 his house, but he had never suspected anything hetero- 
 dox in him. Giotto was then recalled and re-examined, 
 but could state nothing fresh, except that Bruno had 
 spoken of the book upon the sciences, which he pur- 
 posed presenting to the Pope. 
 
 There was then another long interval. At length, 
 upon July 30, Giordano Bruno appeared for the sixth 
 and last time before the Inquisitor, who was accom- 
 panied on this occasion by the Patriarch, the Auditor 
 of the Nuncio, and two Lay Assessors, John Superanzi 
 and Thomas Mauroceno. It would seem that the Court 
 had now formed a strong suspicion that Bruno had not 
 been speaking frankly. Perhaps the Inquisitor had 
 been spending some of the past weeks in an attentive 
 study of his works. The proceedings possess a special
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 213 
 
 and ghastly interest as the last detailed utterances of 
 Bruno which are now accessible. It is therefore as well 
 here to give them at length. As soon as he had been 
 sworn, he was asked ' whether, having had an oppor- 
 tunity of thinking, he had resolved to speak the truth 
 better, as he might now remember more easily the 
 matters remembered in his former depositions.' 
 
 Answer. ' My Lords, I have thought, and certainly 
 it does not occur to me to say anything else, or to add 
 anything to my depositions. It seems to me that in 
 my depositions I have given a full account of what has 
 occurred to me, according to the order of the places 
 where I have been and the things which I have done 
 during the time of my apostasy.' 
 
 Question. ' The fact of so many years of apostasy 
 and such prolonged contempt of censures, renders you 
 liable to great suspicion as to Faith. It may be that 
 you have had wrong opinions upon points other than 
 those to which you have deposed. You therefore can 
 and ought now to put aside every other feeling and 
 to deliver your conscience.' 
 
 Ansiver. ' It seems to me that the points to which 
 I have confessed, and the things I have expressed in 
 my writings, sufficiently show the gravity of my fault. 
 However, I confess it as it is. I acknowledge that I 
 have given no little cause for suspicion of heresy. But 
 I again say that I have always felt remorse in my con- 
 science, and had the intention of amending, although I 
 sought to do this as easily and safely as possible, by 
 avoiding returning under the constraint of monastic 
 obedience. And during those times I set myself in 
 order to please His Holiness, so that I might obtain 
 leave to live more freely than one can in the Catholic 
 and religious state. So that, as concerns the things
 
 214 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 alleged and others which may be known, I surely be- 
 lieve that nothing will be found in contempt of the 
 Catholic Religion, but only fear of the severity of the 
 Holy Office, and love of liberty.' 
 
 Question. ' There is no appearance of there having 
 been in you any such disposition to return to the Holy 
 Faith, because when you were in France and in other 
 Catholic countries where you were for many years, you 
 did not enter into communications with any Prelate of 
 Holy Church, with a view to return to obedience and 
 to the truth of the Catholic Faith. Moreover, since 
 you came to Venice, not only have you shown no such 
 disposition, but you have taught false and heretical 
 dogmas and doctrines.' 
 
 Answer. ' I have already deposed that I discussed 
 my case with the Lord Bishop of Bergamo, the Nuncio 
 in France, to whom I was introduced by Don Ber- 
 naidino Mendoza, the Ambassador [of His Most] 
 Catholic [Majesty], whom I had met at the English 
 Court ; and not only did I discuss my case with my 
 Lord the Nuncio, but I now add that I prayed and 
 earnestly besought him to write to Rome to His 
 Blessedness [the Pope] to get leave for me to be re- 
 ceived into the bosom of the Catholic Church, and not 
 to be obliged to go back into my Order. Sixtus V. was 
 then living, and the Nuncio was afraid he could not get 
 me this favour, and would not write, but he offered to 
 write and to help me if I would return into my Order. 
 And he sent me to a Spanish Jesuit whose name, I 
 remember, was H. Alons, and who can testify for me if 
 he is alive and I discussed my case with him, and he 
 assured me that it was needful to procure from the 
 Pope my absolution from censures, and that they could 
 not do less than make me go back to my Order. He
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 215 
 
 also told me that being excommunicated as I was I 
 could not attend the Divine Offices, but that I could go 
 to hear sermons, and say my prayers inside a church. 
 And since I have come to Venice I have never taught 
 heretical dectrines or dogmas. I have only talked upon 
 philosophical matters with many gentlemen. Informa- 
 tion can be obtained from them. And when I have had 
 occasion to speak of Germany or England I have blamed 
 their state of religion as being profane, ignorant, and 
 injurious to the State. I have written in my different 
 treatises, as I have stated in my depositions, and the 
 same can be seen in them. If I have not procured 
 absolution from censures since I have been in Venice, it 
 is riot that I have abandoned the intention I have 
 always had of returning to the Catholic Church. I in- 
 tended to go back to Frankfort to get printed some of 
 my works upon the Seven Liberal Arts and the other 
 Seven Inventive Arts, and to dedicate these works to 
 the Pope, and so to gain his favour and to obtain some 
 extraordinary concessions that I might be received into 
 the bosom of the Holy Church, and yet be able to lead 
 a clerical life outside cloisters, so that when I returned 
 among the Friars of the Province, I might not be re- 
 proached with having been an apostate, and so despised 
 by all.' 
 
 Question. * You say, get information from different 
 gentlemen, for that so it will be found that you have 
 not taught heretical dogmas, but only talked philosophy. 
 But it has been proved by the depositions of some wit- 
 nesses that you have done the contrary and have taught 
 false doctrines.' 
 
 Answer. ' Except my accuser, whom I believe to be 
 the Signer John Mocenigo, son of the most illustrious 
 Master Antony, I do not believe that anyone will be
 
 216 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 found to say that I have taught false or heretical doc- 
 trines ; and I do not suspect that any other man says 
 anything against me in regard to Holy Faith/ 
 
 Question. ' Where and with whom have you dis- 
 cussed literary matters ? ' 
 
 Answer. ' I have discussed letters in the assemblies 
 which are held in the house of the most Illustrious 
 Si^nor Andrew Morosini, which I believe is at St. 
 Luke's on the Grand Canal, and whither many gentle- 
 men and men of letters resort, and I have also had dis- 
 cussions in some book-shops, but I do not know the 
 particular persons, for I did not know who they were.' 
 
 Question. ' It is necessary that you should well con- 
 sider and remember your position. You have for many 
 years been an apostate [from your Order, and] lying 
 under Church censures. It may therefore easily be the 
 case that you are guilty on other points and in other 
 actions than those which are contained in your deposi- 
 tions. Be ready, therefore, to confess them in order to 
 purge your conscience.' 
 
 Bruno answered : 
 
 ' It may be that during so long a lapse of time I have 
 still farther gone astray, and that I have wandered 
 away from the Holy Church in more ways than I have 
 stated, and that I have become entangled in still more 
 censures, but I have thought well over it, and I do not 
 call anything else to mind. I have freely confessed, 
 and do now confess my errors. And I am here in the 
 hands of your Most Illustrious Lordships, to receive 
 medicine for my [soul's] health. I cannot express fully 
 enough my sorrow for my misdeeds, nor say what I feel 
 as earnestly as I desire.' Here he sank upon his knees 
 and thus continued : ' I humbly implore pardon from 
 the Lord our God, and from your Most Illustrious Lord-
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 217 
 
 ships, for all the errors which I have committed, and I 
 am here ready to carry out whatever your wisdom may 
 decide and judge to be expedient for my soul. I entreat 
 your Lordships, moreover, rather to lay upon me a 
 punishment which shall be even excessive as a chastise- 
 ment rather than to lay upon me one of such a public 
 character as may bring disgrace upon the sacred habit 
 of the Order which I have borne. And if the mercy of 
 God, and of your Most Illustrious Lordships, grants me 
 life, I promise to make so notable a reform in my life as 
 shall make up by change and edification for the scandal 
 which I have given.' 
 
 It required repeated orders from the Inquisitors to 
 make him rise from his knees. He was then asked : 
 ' Does it at present occur to you to say anything more ? ' 
 He answered : ' It does not occur to me to say any- 
 thing more.' The clerk adds that the whole of his de- 
 positions were read over to him, and that he confirmed 
 them. 
 
 Thus ended the trial of Bruno before the Venetian 
 Inquisition. It certainly excites a variety of feelings to 
 find it described in Williams' Heroic Enthusiasts in the 
 words : ' Serene and dignified before this terrible tri- 
 bunal, he expounded his doctrine, its principles, and 
 logical consequences.' 
 
 [The preceding pages form the first part of an article written under the 
 original title of ' The Close of Giordano Bruno's Life,' but which, owing to 
 its length, we have thought it best to divide. The reader has here the 
 whole of that portion which relates to the trial at Venice, including Bruno's 
 account of his own life and teaching. The subsequent portion relates en- 
 tirely to his imprisonment at Rome, and discusses at length the vexed 
 question of his ultimate fate.]
 
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 THE ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 first portion of the present paper, published in 
 the Scottish Review of July, 1888, brought down 
 the history of Giordano Bruno's last years to the 
 termination of his trial before the Venetian Inqui- 
 sition, on July 30, 1592.* In the following pages 
 will be discussed the vexed question of his ultimate 
 fate, or, in other words, whether it is or is not the 
 fact that he was burnt at the stake. The assertion 
 that he was burnt has now become in many quarters 
 
 * The writer of this article was much edified by a newspaper criticism, 
 which threw out a sort of doubt as to the authenticity of the minutes of 
 the trial at Venice, seemingly on the ground that Previti, who has recently 
 reprinted them, is a Jesuit. The suggestion of such a doubt is a curious 
 proof of the lengths to which a certain school will go when confronted by 
 hard facts. If these documents are not genuine, the chief offender is, of 
 course, the present Government of Italy, for placing them before the pub- 
 lic as a portion of the State Papers of the Venetian Republic ; and next, 
 the free-thinker, Domenico Berti, who first published them at full length 
 in 1808, in his learned and valuable work, the Vita di Giordano Bruno da 
 Nola, (pp. 320-385), and the other writers who have used them ever since. 
 The present writer merely cited Previti's edition because it is the most 
 recent and correct, and because the trial is printed in it along with some 
 other documents which were unknown to Berti. The same critic blamed 
 him fnr garbling a passage cited from Bruno regarding women. Let him 
 dare to publish an unexpurgated version of that passage. He will find the 
 original on pp. 299 and 300 of the 2nd volume of the Leipsic edition of 
 Bruno's works (Opere di Giordano Bruno. Lipsia. Weidmann. 1830.) It 
 forms part of the dedication of the Eroici Furori to Sir Philip Sydney. No 
 wonder Bruno is a creature whom Sydney never names. No wonder also 
 that the English translator of the Eroici Furori omits the dedication in 
 toto. 
 
 219
 
 220 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 a commonplace, and it is often stated as if it were a 
 known fact. But this notion, as has been shown by 
 Professor Desdouits,* did not obtain general currency 
 before the year 1701 a full century after the alleged 
 event. It is, indeed, mentioned by earlier writers, but 
 very rarely, and is usually spoken of as a disputed 
 question, and accompanied by some qualifying phrase 
 
 such as ' It is said that .' By some writers, such 
 
 as Desdouits and Balan, it is regarded as a mere fiction. 
 By a second school ofhistorians, comprising such authors 
 as the famous Bayle and Moreri, it is regarded as an 
 exceedingly doubtful statement resting upon insufficient 
 evidence. By others, again, such as Previti and Gaggia, 
 it is accepted with hesitation, as the most probable 
 opinion. By a fourth school, which includes such writers 
 as Berti and Stiavelli, it is assumed as if it were indis- 
 putable, and treated with a kind of enthusiasm. This 
 last group are certainly open to the charge of feeling the 
 want of a martyr of some kh.d, and being determined to 
 show one, by fair means or foul. But the first group 
 might be taunted on the other hand with a desire for a 
 triumph over literary opponents, and a wish to prevent 
 Bruno appearing in a sort of heroic light, t The object 
 
 * Le Ligeiide Tragique de Jordano Biuno. Paris : Ernest Thorin. 1885. 
 In this work the learned Professor, who regards the burning of Bruno as a 
 pure myth, seeks to trace its origin and development. 
 
 t It is a curious phenomenon that so many writers, including even such 
 as Previti and Gaggia, who admit that the burning is a subject of grave 
 doubt, cannot resist the temptation of giving a dramatic description of the 
 supposed scene. In this respect, however, all others seem to pale their 
 ineffectual fires before the English translator of apart of the Erolci Furori. 
 In The Heroic Enthusiasts, pp. 33, 34, we read how ' his face was thin and 
 pale, with dark, tiery eyes ; the forehead luminous with thought, his body 
 frail and bearing the signs of torture : his hands in chains, his feet bare, 
 he walked with slow steps in the early morning towards the funeral pile. 
 Brightly shone the san, and the flames leapt upwards and mingled with his
 
 ULTIMATE PATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 221 
 
 of the present pacjes is not to advocate either opinion, 
 but to place the evidence on both sides before the reader 
 and so enable him to arrive at an opinion for himself. 
 
 The trial of Giordano Bruno before the Venetian In- 
 quisition ended, as above stated, on July 30, 1592. It 
 was followed in the ensuing month of September by a 
 diplomatic correspondence between the Venetian and 
 Roman Governments. The latter desired the extradi- 
 tion of Bruno, and his committal to the care of the 
 Roman Inquisition ; the former resisted the request, 
 from unwillingness to admit anything which seemed to 
 imply a subjection of the Tribunals of the Republic to 
 those of the Papal States. To this it was answered that 
 Bruno was not a subject, of the Republic but of the 
 Kingdom of Naples, and that .the original proceedings 
 against him (before his flight from the Convent of the 
 Minerva) had been begun in Rome. It was finally de- 
 cided to grant the extradition, as a sign of the readiness 
 
 ardent rays ; Bruno st ><>d in the midst with his arms crossed, his head 
 
 raised, his eyes open .' The sunbeams in this description are not an 
 
 happy feature, considering that the place was a low spotin the valley of the 
 Tiber, the date the middle of February, and that the entry in the Archives 
 of San Giovanni Dec -llato gives the impression that the hour was before 
 day. There is, of course, no shadow of an hint to lead to the idea that 
 Bruno was ever put to the torture anywhere ; but the fact is that the ' tor- 
 ture chambers of the Inquisition' form one of the favourite theatrical 
 ' properties ' of a certain class of writers, and must be had in on any possible 
 occasion. As to Bruno's physiognomy, ir is evident that the writer of the 
 before-going description ha<i either never seen or does not believe in the 
 portrait which forms the frontispiece to the first volume of the Leipsic 
 edition of his works, ami which represents a low criminal type, sufficiently 
 familiar to the judicial authorities of Naples. (Stiavelli's woodcut is dif- 
 ferent a sort of cross between Dante and Savonarola, with a dash of Tor- 
 qtiemada thrown in). It is an unfortunate feature of the word-painters 
 that their witness agrees not together. Some give us an harrowing 
 description of how his tongue was cut out beforehand, to prevent his 
 speaking at the place of execution, while others favour us with his last 
 words uttered amidst the flames.
 
 222 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 of the Republic to gratify the Pope. This was in 
 January, 1593. In the succeeding month of February 
 Bruno was a prisoner in the prison of the Inquisition at 
 Home. 
 
 Then follows a blank of six years. This blank is owing 
 to the inexorable secrecy in which the Roman Inquisi- 
 tion still insists upon shrouding its proceedings, and 
 which is all the more provoking in this instance because 
 we know that its archives contain the most complete 
 elucidation of the whole history up to the point of 
 Bruno's surrender to the Civil Magistrate. What can 
 possibly be the motive of all this secrecy it is impossible 
 to guess.* It is very true that it may sometimes be 
 better that what is commonly called a ' clerical scandal ' 
 should be heard with closed doors. But this argument 
 does not apply to such a trial as that of Bruno, 
 especially when it is about 300 years old. It is surely 
 impossible that the authorities of the Inquisition can be 
 so entirely blind to the nature of the popular reputa- 
 tion which that Tribunal already enjoys as to suppose 
 that any possible revelations could make it worse than 
 it is. And, on the other hand, mines of the most in- 
 
 * When our own fellow-countryman, the Rev. Dr. Garment, was tried 
 before the Inquisition within the last few years, the eminent advocate 
 Canon Menghini who conducted his case was compelled, before being 
 admitted to plead, to take an oath of secrecy as to the proceedings so strict 
 that he was not able afterwards to tell his own client what he had said on 
 his behalf, and was consequently obliged, in order that his arguments 
 upon the point of great public interest involved might be known, to pub- 
 lish beforehand his opinion upon the case and the grounds upon which it 
 was based. And yet the question was a mere point of Canon Law as to 
 the immunity of the clergy from the jurisdiction of secular courts. On 
 
 the other hand, in the notorious Z matrimonial case, which cauie 
 
 before another Roman Church Court, the depositions, which were revolt- 
 ing, were printed, and although not actually published, circulated a good 
 deal from hand to hand.
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 223 
 
 teresting historical matter are kept closed to the his- 
 torical student. The experience of Father Previti is a 
 melancholy instance of what meets investigators in this 
 quarter. Thinking that as a Jesuit Priest, writing a 
 scientific historical work, from a point of view opposed 
 to that of Bruno's admirers, he might have a little more 
 assistance given him than had been granted to the anti- 
 clerical Berti, he applied for permission to consult the 
 archives of the Inquisition. He was not allowed to see 
 anything, although he was tantalized with the infor- 
 mation that the ink is already a good deal faded. He 
 was allowed to have copies of five small entries, all of 
 which will be given immediately hereafter, and a certain 
 amount of information was afforded him ; but to such 
 an extent is the element of mystery carried, that he is 
 not allowed to give the name of the official who was 
 permitted to give him the extracts and information in 
 question. He was told that the archives contain every- 
 thing concerning the case, but nothing to show what 
 occurred to the prisoner after he left the hands of the 
 Inquisition, as, for instance, whether he was executed 
 or not. He was not allowed to see a copy of the sen- 
 tence, or even to hear what were the eight points upon 
 which Bruno was condemned. 
 
 It is known that among the judges were the cele- 
 brated Bellarmine, and the still more celebrated 
 Baronius, the latter of whom happened at this time to 
 be the confessor of the reigning Pope, Clement VIII., 
 and it is also known that Bellarmine, first in the charac- 
 ter of theologian to the Inquisition, and afterwards as 
 Cardinal, took the leading part in the proceedings of 
 the case. 
 
 The great length of time which the trial occupied has 
 been accounted for upon various grounds. It is sugges-
 
 224 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 ted that the naturally mild disposition of Clement VIII. 
 made him very averse to proceed to extremities. It is 
 known that the whole of Bruno's works were carefully 
 examined from end to end by theologians, a process 
 which must have taken some time. It is known that 
 great hopes were entertained that he would recant, and 
 long delays were granted, both unasked and at his own 
 request, in the hope that these expectations might be 
 realized. But none of these explanations seem to the 
 present writer to be sufficient to account for the long 
 period of six years. In fact, the last is self-contradic- 
 tory, because, when Bruno left the Inquisition at Venice, 
 he was only too eager to recant and beg pardon for 
 everything or anything. 
 
 It is indeed this last point which seems to the present 
 writer to contain in all probability the key to 
 the mystery. As is well known, the ecclesiastical 
 Courts in such cases do not hand over to the 
 Civil Power as was done with Bruno any but the 
 relapsed, that is, those whose re-adoption of their former 
 courses seems to show them to be incorrigible. Now, 
 Bruno, when he left Venice, could not be called relapsed, 
 because he had never repented before. It appears 
 evident, therefore, that he relapsed during the six 
 years. When he left Venice, he was in a state of the 
 utmost docility and penitence whether genuine or 
 affected, is another question. When he re-appears in 
 1599, he is in a state of implacable defiance. 
 
 It will be observed that the Roman Inquisition, find- 
 ing him in the dispositions in which he left Venice, 
 seems to have complied with all his wishes, except that 
 of being set at perfect liberty. His particular dread had 
 been that of being sent back into a convent of his Order; 
 and this accordingly was not done ; he remained under
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 225 
 
 detention in the prison of the Inquisition itself. He had 
 asked that no public punishment of a disgraceful char- 
 acter meaning, it may be presumed, such an one as 
 being sent to the galleys, might be inflicted upon him ; 
 and accordingly none such was inflicted. Even in the 
 face of the life which he had led and the books which he 
 had published, including the Can>lelajo, he was not de- 
 graded from Holy Orders. Having regard to these 
 facts, and to the extraordi nary change which is manifest 
 in 1599, the most probable conjecture seems to be that 
 he was treated with mildness as long as he remained in 
 the dispositions in which he left Venice. If the state- 
 ment of Caspar Scliopp that he was excommunicated 
 before being handed over to the Civil Power is correct, 
 it seems to follow that he had been released from the 
 excommunication which he had incurred by absconding 
 from his Order. It may be supposed that he enjoyed a 
 certain amount of relaxation in the strictness of his con- 
 finement he was very probably admitted to the Sacra- 
 ments it is even possible that he was allowed to say 
 Mass. Had he continued as he had begun, the worst 
 that could have happened to him would have been a 
 life-long detention, which, however, would in the course 
 of time have become much modified, and most likely 
 have been changed at length either into a permission to 
 re-enter a convent of his Order, or even into a ticket- 
 of-leave, allowing him to live in the world under police 
 supervision as a secular cleric, the special thing which 
 he had desired. But he evidently changed his mind. 
 Whether the recurrence to the profession of his former 
 opinions was accompanied by attempts to propagate 
 them among fellow-prisoners, or among the officials of 
 the Inquisition, whether he attempted any such thing 
 as clandestine correspondence with the outside world, 
 
 p
 
 226 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 whether he fell into any other acts of a special char- 
 acter,* is, in the absence of knowledge as to what the 
 records of the proceedings contain, mere matter of con- 
 jecture. The two first extracts communicated to Father 
 Previti are as follows : 
 
 'Thursday, Jan. 14, 1599. 
 
 'Eight heretical propositions of the apostate friar 
 Giordano Bruno, of Nola, of the Order of Friars 
 Preachers, prisoner in the prisons of the Holy Office, 
 collected from his books and trial by the Rev. Fathers 
 the Commissary and Bellarmine, were read. It was 
 ordered that these selected propositions should be shown 
 to him, in order that he might consider whether he 
 would abjure them as being heretical. Other heretical 
 propositions may be seen in his trial and in his books.' 
 
 'Thursday, Feb, 4, 1599. 
 
 [The heretical propositions] t * of the Friar Giordano, 
 son of the late John Bruno of Nola, Priest, professed in 
 the Order of Friars Preachers and an apostate therefrom, 
 prisoner in the prisons of the said Holy Inquisition, and 
 examined and tried concerning and upon heretical pra- 
 vity, and other things in the proceedings of this case, 
 having been detailed at length ; and the proceedings 
 taken against him therefor having been read ; and the 
 same having been maturely and carefully considered ; 
 and the opinion of the Rev. Fathers the Theologians 
 Consultors of the said Holy Inquisition, present in the 
 
 * If he was really burnt alive, there must have been circumstances of 
 very great gravity to bring about so horrible a punishment. Carnesecchi, 
 for instance, who was executed while refusing to recant, in 1597, was be- 
 headed. 
 
 t The extract as printed in Father Previti's book is nonsense, seemingly 
 caused by the omission of some words such as are here inserted in [ ].
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 227 
 
 said Congregation, as given both in writing and 
 bv word of mouth, having been heard ; and all 
 and everything which was to be seen and considered 
 having been seen and considered Our Most Holy 
 Lord [the Pope] decreed and ordered that only 
 those heretical propositions should be indicated to him. 
 by the Fathers Theologians, viz., by Father Bellarmine 
 and the Commissary, and not only heretical as now so 
 declared but [also] by the most ancient Fathers, by the 
 Church, and by the Apostolic See ; and if he acknow- 
 ledges them as such well ; but if not, let him have 
 another delay of 40 days.' 
 
 The next document, however, is dated more than ten 
 months later, namely, Tuesday, Dec. 21. It is the 
 minute of a Congregation of the Inquisition held upon 
 that date in the Palace of that Tribunal close to St. 
 Peter's. There were present nine Cardinals, including- 
 Bellarmine, and six others, beside the Notary, viz., the 
 Commissary General and his Assessor, the Remem- 
 brancer of the Signatures, the Vicar General of the 
 Friars Preachers, and the Procurator Fiscal and another 
 Assessor of the Tribunal. Among the prisoners visited 
 was ' the Friar Giordano, son of the late John Bruno of 
 the city of Nola, in the Kingdom of Naples, Priest pro- 
 fessed in the Order of Friars Preachers and an apostate 
 from the said Order, Doctor of Divinity, prisoner in the 
 prisons of the said Holy Office, and examined and tried 
 concerning and upon heretical pravity.' After other 
 matters ' he was brought out of the said prison and into 
 the hall of the Congregation, presented before the afore- 
 said Most Illustrious, etc., and visited by them ; and 
 they heard him upon everything which he wished to 
 sav, and upon the merits of his case, and his needs hoth 
 as regarded his fare and other things ; after which,
 
 228 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 when he had been removed from the hall of the Con- 
 gregation, the Cardinals present decreed that the 
 Fathers General and the Vicar of the said Order of 
 Frinrs Preachers should deal with him, and show him 
 the propositions he must abjure, that he might acknow- 
 ledge his errors, amend, and be ready to abjure, and 
 that so they may gain their brother as may be most 
 expedient.' 
 
 A month later, the Pope himself gave his decision 
 upon the report of the delegates : 
 
 'Thursday, Jan. 20, 1600.* In presence of our Most 
 Holy [Lord the Pope]. 
 
 ' The petition of the Friar Giordano Bruno, im- 
 prisoned in the Holy Office, addressed to our Most 
 Holy Lord, was opened but not read. 
 
 ' In the case of the same Friar Giordano, of Nola, of 
 the Order of the Friars preachers and apostate there- 
 from, the Rev. Fr. Prior Hippolytus Mary, General of 
 the said Order, reported that, in obedience to the com- 
 mand of the Most Illustrious, etc., he, along with the 
 Procurator General of the said Order, had spoken with 
 the said Friar Giordano, as to whether he was willing 
 to acknowledge the heretical propositions emitted by 
 him in his writings and depositions, and that he would 
 not do so, asserting that he had never uttered heretical 
 propositions, and that they had been mistaken by the 
 servants of the Holy Office ; and our Most Holy Lord, 
 after hearing the opinions of the aforesaid Most Illus- 
 trious, etc., decreed that the case must go on, in the 
 due manner, and sentence be given that the said Friar 
 Giordano be handed over to the Secular Court.' 
 
 * In Previti, p. 388, the dates of this and the next entry have, evidently 
 by a blunder of the printers, been printed before instead of aft^r the 
 numerals 'IV. 'and 'V.'
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 229 
 
 And it is accordingly recorded : 
 
 ' Tuesday, Feb. 8, 1600. In presence of their Most 
 Illustrious Lordships. 
 
 ' Sentence was pronounced against the apostate Friar, 
 Giordano Bruno of Nola, of the Order of Preachers, an 
 unrepentant and obstinate heretic, and he was given 
 over to the Secular Court of the Civil Governor of 
 Home, then present at the said Congregation.' 
 
 It is a matter of conjecture what can have been the 
 reason why Bruno was unwilling to recant again. All 
 he could have had to do would have been to say that 
 he would not oppose his own opinions to the decision of 
 those who were better fitted than himself, from every 
 point of view, to form a judgment upon the points in 
 dispute. This he could have done without even a ruffle 
 to his self-esteem, as he had already stated at his trial 
 at Venice, that he had studied theology only very little. 
 Moreover, in any case, it was his avowed and published 
 doctrine that to suffer martyrdom on account of religion 
 is an act of such arrant folly as to approach the nature 
 of mental derangement. ' Let the sense,' he says, in 
 the Eroici Furor i,* 'feed according to the law of 
 things that can be felt, the flesh be obedient to the law 
 of the spirit, the reason to its own law. Let them not 
 be confounded or mixed. . . . Verily it is a shame- 
 ful thing that one should tyrannize over the other, par- 
 ticularly where the intellect is a pilgrim and strange, 
 and the sense is more domesticated and at home. . . . 
 This is a law of Nature, and therefore a law of the 
 author and originator of Nature. . . . How have 
 you gotten this melancholy and perverse humour, 
 which breaks the certain and natural laws of the true 
 
 * Pp. 101-110 of the English translation.
 
 230 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 life, and which is in your own hands, for one, uncertain, 
 and which has no existence except in shadow beyond 
 the limits of fantastic thought ? Seems it to you a 
 natural thing that they should live divinely and not as 
 animals and humanly, they being not gods, but men 
 and animals ? It is the law of fate and Nature that 
 everything should adapt itself to the condition of its 
 own being. Wherefore, then, while you follow after 
 the niggard nectar of the gods, do you lose that which 
 is present and is your own, and trouble yourself about 
 the vain hopes of others ? ' And on this principle he 
 had frankly acted at Venice. Perhaps he now thought 
 that his life was already irretrievably forfeited. It is 
 evident from the minute of the Inquisition of Jan. 20, 
 that this was not so, since he could not have been exe- 
 cuted without being in any case first degraded from 
 Holy Orders and handed over to the Civil Magistrate, 
 and it was only on that day, and in consequence of his 
 steady refusal to recant, that it was determined to let 
 things go so far as that point. But if, in any case, he 
 thought so, whether rightly or wrongly, it is conceiv- 
 able that he may have elected to suffer by fire rather 
 than to purchase a commutation to decapitation or 
 strangulation at the cost of giving his opponents the 
 triumph of his admission for a second time that he had 
 been wrong. It is indeed possible that he may have 
 deliberately preferred to have done with the whole 
 thing once and for all, rather than face life-long and 
 close imprisonment or penal servitude. There are, 
 again, some minds in which a diseased self-complacency 
 seems to drown the voice of reason, and such is not an 
 impossible explanation in the case of a man of so 
 eccentric a career, and whose nervous disorder is so 
 markedly revealed in his works, especially in Candelajo,
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 231 
 
 although it must be admitted that no such explanation 
 of his acts seems to have occurred to any of his contem- 
 poraries. Nevertheless, it must not be forgotten that 
 the science of mental pathology was then in its infancy. 
 Yet another hypothesis has been suggested, viz., that 
 he had made secret arrangements for a rescue when he 
 should be brought out for execution. This latter view 
 is certainly supported by the fact that if the execution 
 took place at all, it took place upon a different day from 
 that upon which the public had been given to expect it, 
 and that it was kept so secret that even the guild- 
 brethren who were to help the convict were only in- 
 formed within a few hours of the preceding midnight. 
 The possibility of his having established a clandestine 
 correspondence has already been suggested, and a letter 
 of this sort may, unknown to him, have fallen into the 
 hands of the authorities, and caused them to adopt 
 these singular precautions with a view to baffle the 
 design. This theory would, moreover, account for 
 Bruno's persistent refusal to recant as a means of en- 
 suring his being brought outside the prison, for the 
 enigmatical remark ascribed to him by Schopp, to the 
 effect that he heard his sentence without much trepida- 
 tion, for the lightness of tone ascribed to him by the 
 entry in the archives of San Giovanni Decollate, and 
 for his persistence to the last, as if he had been ex- 
 pecting rescue at any moment till he was finally choked 
 by the smoke. But this is only conjecture, and although 
 it is a remarkably ingenious theory, and perhaps the 
 best explanation of his having been burnt at all, if 
 burnt he was, it does not explain the difficulties in 
 which the general fact is enveloped by the remarkable 
 absence of any trustworthy evidence of its having ever 
 occurred.
 
 232 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 That Bruno was delivered to the Secular Power seems 
 pretty clear. The question then arises, What happened 
 to him afterwards ? Did he live and die, either repen- 
 tant or unrepentant, either in prison or upon ticket-of- 
 leave, most likely under a feigned name, and, in any 
 case, in a condition of even more complete obscurity, 
 more unknown and more forgotten, than he had hitherto 
 been ? The popular statement, on the contrary, is that 
 he was burnt in the Campo dei Fiori, on February 17. 
 
 It may be confessed at once that the historical argu- 
 ments in favour of this tragic theory, although they may 
 at present be such as to produce something like moral 
 certainty in the minds of some historical students, are 
 of such a character that a very little positive evidence 
 to the contrary would be sufficient completely to dis- 
 credit them. 
 
 But the evidence to the contrary is all negative. In 
 the first place, no record of the execution has been 
 found among the archives of the Civil Government of 
 Rome. This is in itself sufficiently startling, for an 
 execution always entails certain expenses which are 
 found entered in the accounts ; those of wood, etc., for 
 instance, for the burning of witches, will at once occur 
 to the student of Scottish Municipal Records. But 
 there is no such trace whatsoever to indicate a like end 
 for Giordano Bruno. It is possible, on the other hand, 
 that they have been lost, or that, for some reason, no 
 entries for expenses, etc., were made. The silence of 
 other authorities is, however, still more suspicious. The 
 Venetian Ambassadors in Rome addressed voluminous 
 dispatches to their Government, in which they care- 
 fully mention the executions of Carnesecchi and others 
 who were put to death upon religious grounds ; but al- 
 though Bruno had actually been a prisoner extradited
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 233 
 
 from a Venetian Tribunal, they make no allusion to any 
 such thing as his being executed. No hint of any such 
 event is to be found in the Storia degli Anni Santi of 
 Alfano and Marco Manno, nor in Ciacconio, nor in San- 
 din i. nor in any other contemporary writer of ecclesias- 
 tical history. This remark applies equally to Protes- 
 tant writers ; and yet Rome was crowded with strangers 
 at the moment of the alleged event, on account of the 
 Jubilee, and very many of these were Protestants, yet 
 none of them, either in their public or private writings, 
 show that they had ever heard such a thing mentioned. 
 Nor do later Protestant writers, in compiling lists of 
 persons put to death on religious grounds, include Gior- 
 dano Bruno among the number. The Bishop of Nola, 
 Bruno's native place, was at Rome, but shows no know- 
 ledge of such an event. There are preserved long letters 
 written at Rome by Cardinal d'Assat, one within forty- 
 eight hours of the supposed execution (February 19, 20, 
 and 22), but he says nothing about it. The Friar Paul 
 Sarpi, an enemy of the Church of Rome, and a member 
 of Bruno's own Order, expatiating, only ten years later, 
 upon the executions which had taken place in Rome 
 upon religious grounds, seems never to have heard or 
 suspected that Bruno's had been one of them. Stronger 
 than all, perhaps, is the complete silence of the contem- 
 porary diarists in Rome, including such a writer as 
 Mark Antony Valena, who made a special point of 
 accurately noting all the executions which took place. 
 It must be confessed that such an universal silence, in 
 every direction where such a thing might be expected 
 to be mentioned, is almost inexplicable, except upon the 
 hypothesis that the execution itself is a fiction of later 
 days, whatever allowance may be made for possible care- 
 lessness of official clerks, or for subsequent loss of docu-
 
 234 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 ments, for the extreme obscurity of this almost unknown 
 prisoner, the indifference of Protestants as well as 
 Catholics to the fate of an atheist, the postponement of 
 the date of the execution, its late and sudden arrange- 
 ment, and its seemingly early, unknown, and unexpected 
 hour, along with the not unreasonable consideration 
 that its circumstances as narrated are so horrible that 
 it is conceivable some of the few who knew of it might 
 not have cared to write about it. 
 
 The tradition of the execution is, in fact, only sup- 
 ported by three pieces of evidence which claim to be 
 contemporary. There are, however, two other allusions 
 to it which may be called nearly contemporary, but the 
 first at least is of a very vague and unsatisfactory 
 character. Martin Hasdale wrote to Galileo that 
 Brengger wrote to Kepler in 1608 to ask him if it were 
 true that Bruno was burnt, and that Kepler replied ' I 
 knew from Wacher that Bruno was burnt at Rome, and 
 that he endured the agony manfully, asserting con- 
 stantly that all religions are folly, and that God is simply 
 the same thing with the world, with the circle 
 and with the point.' He continues that Brengger 
 replied that it was marvellous that a man who 
 believed that there is no God to deal future 
 rewards or punishments should have been so mad 
 as to refuse to profess anything in order to save his life, 
 and especially to avoid such pain. It will be observed 
 that this is hearsay little better than gossip. The other 
 allusion is in a book printed by Gaspar Schopp (to be 
 mentioned presently at greater length) in 1G11, wherein 
 he cites the conduct of Bruno at the last as ' a monu- 
 mental instance of obstinacy proceeding from mere ill- 
 temper'-- ' pertinacice ex odio profectce memorabile ex- 
 emplum ' since he was a man who preferred to be
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 235 
 
 burnt alive rather than, etc., etc. This again merely 
 shows that Schopp believed, or wished to appear to be- 
 lieve, that such had been Bruno's end. 
 
 The three documents which claim to be contemporary, 
 and which assert the execution as a fact, will now be 
 laid before the reader, and he will be able to form his 
 own opinion. 
 
 The first of these three documents has hitherto been 
 the main (and was for long the sole) authority upon the 
 point under discussion. At some time in the XVIIth 
 Century there was published somewhere a book intituled 
 Macchiavellisatio qua, unitorum animos dissociare niten- 
 tibus respond etur.,in gratiam dominiArchiepiscopi castis- 
 simce vitce Petri Pazman succinte excerpta. Saragossce. 
 1621. This book appeared with a false author's name 
 and a false statement of place of printing. It is supposed 
 to have been printed in Germany. It contains a real or 
 fictitious letter from Gaspar Schopp to his Lutheran 
 friend Conrad Ritherhausen, dated from Rome, Feb. 17, 
 1 600. Whatever be the truth as to the fate of Giordano 
 Bruno, the genuineness of this letter has been most 
 widely contested, and, it must be admitted, upon very 
 strong grounds. Gaspar Schopp is known as a forger, 
 and a man in many ways untrustworthy, and the strong 
 suspicion which these combined circumstances are cal- 
 culated to inspire is very much increased by the fact 
 that the letter contains frequent falsehoods on points 
 on which it is possible to check the writer from other 
 sources. If it is a forgery, it is quite possible that 
 Schopp never heard of it. The date of the Macchia- 
 vellisatio is believed to be false, as it is only first men- 
 tioned by the Lutheran Ursinus, in his book De 
 Zoroastre Bactriano, printed at Nuremberg in 1661. 
 But even if it were published in 1621, Schopp, who was
 
 236 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 passing his last years at Padua, might well have been 
 unconscious of it.* It is written in a slightly contro- 
 versial tone, sometimes nearly approaching to banter, 
 and displays throughout a very unseemly degree of 
 levity. This is in itself suspicious, as it seems unnatural 
 that a subject so terrible should be treated with light- 
 ness, and rouses an idea that the writer of the letter was 
 conscious he was playing a practical joke.t But the 
 document has many other suspicious features. For in- 
 stance, its author states that he was present at the 
 General Congregation of the Inquisition at which Bruno 
 was degraded from Holy Orders, and that he learnt the 
 convict's opinions by hearing the sentence read on that 
 occasion : but he does not even know on what day the 
 congregation in question took place, assigning it to 
 another, and he gives as Bruno's doctrines a farrago of 
 nonsense which has hardly anything in common with 
 them, and which consists of many more points than 
 eight, the number of those upon which, as we know from 
 the actual minutes of the Inquisition already given 
 above, Giordano was really condemned. It is as well to 
 transcribe the whole passage relating to Bruno, in order 
 that the reader may be able not only to see the state- 
 
 * He made so many enemies that he is said to have been timid about 
 leaving his house, for fear of being cudgelled. 
 
 t In an historical paper like the present it would be out of place to enter 
 into the region of pure conjecture, as to the authorship of the accounts of 
 Bruno's execution, supposing them to be forgeries. But it must be ad- 
 mitted that the indications of the so-called Schopp being a practical joke, 
 the ludicrous set of opinions therein ascribed, as though in mockery of the 
 Inquisition, to Giordano, a good deal that may be irony (such as the 
 eulogiums bestowed upon the Inquisitors), the coarse jesting nature of the 
 book in which it appeared, and its publication in Germany, where Bruno- 
 had many connections, are all harmonious with the idea that this letter 
 may be a composition of his own in his old age, when the exact day of his 
 degradation from Orders had escaped his memory.
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 237 
 
 ments relating to facts otherwise unsupported, but also 
 to gauge their probability by a comparison with the rest. 
 Schopp, or the writer in his n;ime, begins by saying 
 that the continuation of the subject of the punishment 
 of heretics, of which he had before been treating, is as 
 it were thrust upon him by the very fact of that day ' on 
 which Giordano Bruno has been publicly burnt for 
 heresy, alive and with his eyes open, in the Campus 
 Florae, in front of Pompey's theatre.' He proceeds to 
 warn Ritherhausen against the statements of Italians 
 that Bruno was a Lutheran, as they ignorantly call all 
 heretics Lutherans,* and so on, saying that Lutherans 
 and Calvinists (unless relapsed or publicly scandalous) 
 are quite safe to come to Rome as much as they like, 
 and then continues ' In that same way I myself should 
 perhaps have believed the common tale that Bruno was 
 burned for Lutheranism,, if I had not happened to be 
 present at the Inquisition when sentence was pro- 
 nounced upon him, and so knew what his heresy was. 
 This Bruno was a native of Nola in the Kingdom of 
 Naples, and a professed Dominican friar.t More than 
 
 * It is difficult to tell why Schopp or anybody else should have made 
 this manifestly false statement. It must have been well known in Italy 
 that the Oriental heretics, dating from a thousand years earlier, could not 
 be Lutherans, and the notoriety of the public affairs of Germany, of Swit- 
 zerland, of France, and of England, must have made them well acquainted 
 witli the existence of Zuinglians, Calvinists, and Anglicans, as well as of 
 Lutherans. 
 
 t The rubbish which now follows is, of course, one of the main grounds 
 for attacking the genuineness of this letter attributed to Schopp. That he 
 should he wrong in his facts as to Bruno's past may be only the weakness 
 of a careless and inaccurate gossip. That he should not be able to give the 
 names of his books may be, as the letter itself suggests, only a fault of 
 memory. But what is to be thought of the farrago of nonsense, showing, 
 it may be observed, not the faintest notion of Giordano's real opinions, 
 and far exceeding in items the eight points upon which only we know that 
 he was condemned, which is here attributed to him, with the remark that
 
 238 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 eighteen years ago he began to doubt about Transub- 
 stantiation (which, as your favourite Chrysostom says, 
 is opposed to reason), and then to deny it, and soon 
 began to call in doubt the virginity of Blessed Mary 
 (who the same Chrysostom says was purer than all 
 the cherubim and seraphim). So he went to Geneva, 
 and stayed there two years. * But he could not entirely 
 accept Calvinism, although there is nothing leads more 
 directly to atheism, and so was expelled thence, and 
 went to Lyons, and thence to Toulouse, and so on to 
 Paris, where he acted as Professor extraordinary, since 
 he found that Professors ordinary are obliged to attend 
 the service of the Mass. After this he went to London, 
 where he published a little book upon the Beast Trium- 
 phant, i.e., the Pope,t whom your people are accustomed 
 
 the writer knew it all from having heard the sentence read ? It has been 
 argued that the letter thereby carries on its very face the stamp of being 
 an ignorant fabrication. There remains, however, the explanation that 
 Schopp heard the Latin document read with only a very imperfect apprecia- 
 tion (either through ignorance or inattention) of its meaning, and that he 
 got those silly notions together afterwards from the conversation of those 
 as ignorant and unscrupulous as himself. 
 
 * This, as already indicated, is not true. He was only there two 
 months. 
 
 t This is a pure invention. The Spaccio de la Bestia trionfante has no- 
 thing whatever to do with the Pope. It is a kind of allegorical treatise on 
 elementary morals. At the same time, it is well to quote the words of 
 Stiavelli, an enthusiastic disciple of Bruno, whose Vita di Giordano Bruno 
 narrata al populo has just been published in Rome at the price of one 
 franc : ' Catholics, Calvinists, Lutherans, and Puritans, all felt the prod 
 of his satirical pen, and all with one voice cried out at his blasphemy. 
 They were all agreed. . . Although all religions, however unwillingly, 
 recognised the fact that they were the Beast whom Bruno was attacking, 
 the Catholics felt themselves most in it, because it was commonly said and 
 believed that by the title of the triumphant Beast our philosopher had 
 meant to indicate the Pope. We do not believe that this was what Bruno 
 meant, because for him all religions, and not the Catholic religion only, 
 were beasts to get rid of.' (7ita, p. 97.)
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 239 
 
 to compliment with the title of the Beast. From Lon- 
 don he went to Wittenberg, and there, unless I mistake, 
 he lectured publicly for two years. From Wittenberg 
 he went to Prague, and there published a book, De im- 
 menso et infinite, another De innumerabilibus (if I 
 remember the names right, but I had the books them- 
 selves at Prague), and a third, De umbris et idceis, in 
 which he teaches things that are horrible and at the 
 same time ludicrous, as, for instance, that there are in- 
 numerable worlds, that the soul passes from one body 
 to another, and even into another world, that one soul 
 can animate two bodies, that magic is a thing good and 
 lawful, that the Holy Ghost is merely the Soul of the 
 world, and that this is what Moses meant by writing 
 that the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the 
 waters, that the world is eternal, that Moses wrought 
 
 o 
 
 his miracles by magic, in which he had become more 
 expert than the other Egyptians, that he [Moses] in- 
 vented his own laws, that the Bible is a delusion, that 
 the devils will be saved, that no one but the Jews are 
 descended from Adam and Eve, and the rest from the 
 two whom God made the day before,* that Christ was 
 not God, but was a famous sorcerer who deceived men 
 and was therefore justly hanged, that He was not 
 crucified, that the Prophets and Apostles were bad men, 
 sorcerers, most of whom got hanged, but an account of 
 the monstrosities which he has asserted in his books 
 and words would be endless. To sum it up in one word, 
 he maintained everything which has been asserted 
 either by heathen philosophers or by our own heretics, 
 either old or new. From Prague he went on to Bruns- 
 
 * Ab us duolus quos Deus pridie fecerat. What can Schopp (either real 
 or fictitious) have thought that he meant by this ?
 
 240 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 wick and Helmstadt, and there is said to have lectured 
 for some time. Then he went on to Frankfort, for the 
 purpose of publishing books, and at last came into the 
 hands of the Inquisition at Venice. When he had 
 been there quite long enough he was sent to Rome, and 
 very often examined before the Holy Office, which is 
 called the Inquisition, and was convicted by the best 
 Theologians. Sometimes he obtained forty days to 
 think things over, sometimes he promised to recant, 
 sometimes lie took to defending his own fancies again, 
 sometimes he got them to give him another forty days, 
 but in the end he did nothing but make fools of the 
 Pope and the Inquisition. When, therefore, nearly 
 two * years had expired since he came into the Inquisi- 
 tion here, upon this ninth f day of February last passed, 
 in the Palace of the Chief Inquisitor, and in the pre- 
 sence of the most illustrious Cardinals of the Inquisition 
 (who excel the others in age, in experience, and in 
 knowledge of Divinity and of Law), and of their Theo- 
 logical Consul tons, and of the Civil Magistrate, the 
 Governor of the City, this Bruno was brought before 
 the Tribunal of the Inquisition, and there upon his 
 knees heard read the sentence pronounced against him. 
 This sentence gave a sketch of his life, his pursuits, and 
 his doctrines, and related the diligence which the In- 
 quisition had shown to convert him and to advise him 
 as a brother, and the stubbornness and impiety which 
 he had displayed. Hence, therefore, they degraded him 
 
 * This again, it will be observed, is a false invention. The period was 
 seven. 
 
 tHere is the blunder as to the date. If the reader will turn back to the 
 last minute of the Inquisition, he will see that the day of the delivery of 
 Bruno was not February 9, but February 8.
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 241 
 
 [from Holy Orders],* and then forthwith excommuni- 
 cated him, and delivered him for punishment to the 
 Civil Magistrate, whom they besought to punish him as 
 mercifully as possible and not to shed his blood. To all 
 this he answered nothing, except to say in a threaten- 
 ing tone : " Perhaps you are more afraid to pass this 
 sentence upon me than I am to receive it." The 
 officials of the Governor thereupon took him to prison, 
 where he was closely confined, in the hope that he 
 would even yet recant his errors ; but in vain. To-day, 
 he was led to the pile. When the image of the Cruci- 
 fied Saviour was put before him in his last moments, he 
 rejected it with a look of contempt and dislike.f And 
 thus he perished miserably in the fire - .' The letter 
 then continues with some discussion of a personal 
 
 * As to this fact there seems to be no doubt, for the Bishop of Sidon is 
 entered as having received a fee of 27 scudi for performing the ceremony, 
 in the account-books of the General [Papal] Administration, April 1, 1599, 
 to July 3, 1600. (Williams' Heroic Enthusiasts (p. 34) says that the Bishop 
 only ' demanded two scudi in payment,' but it is as well to be accurate 
 even in details). It has been argned that Bruno must have been burnt, 
 because he was degraded from Orders. It might almost as well be argued 
 that ministers are occasionally burnt in Scotland, because they are 
 occasionally degraded from Orders by the General Assemblies. A notori- 
 ous case, which may be a parallel to Bruno's, occurred in the Roman 
 Inquisition within the present century. In this case the convict was a 
 Bishop, and was solemnly degraded from every Ecclesiastical Order, from 
 the Episcopate downwards. He was then handed over to penal servitude 
 for life. He was released by the Revolutionists of 1848, but, on the re- 
 establishment of the Temporal Power of the Papacy, returned, and volun- 
 tarily surrendered himself. He was then allowed to become a menial 
 servant in the prison, but ultimately obtained a ticket-of-leave, and died 
 in obscurity. 
 
 Y Cum Salvatoris crncifixi imago ei jam morituro ostenderetur, torvo earn 
 vnltu aspernatus rejeeit. Professor Desdouits thinks that this episode is 
 a plagiarism from Grammond's account of the execution of Vanini, who 
 was put to death for atheism, by order of the Parliament of Toulouse, ia 
 1619. 
 
 Q
 
 242 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 character addressed to Ritherhausen, and passes to 
 other matters. 
 
 The second piece of evidence in support of the state- 
 ment of Bruno's execution is an extract from the news- 
 letters (Awisi) from Rome, and appears to have been 
 first discovered by the Marchese Gaetano Ferraioli. By 
 him it was communicated to Berti, who published it in 
 the appendix to a lecture upon Copernicus. A slightly 
 different text was printed by Ademollo, in 1875, in the 
 Gazzetta d' Italia. The errors which are to be found in 
 the newspapers of the present day, owing to divers 
 causes, including the nature of the gossip collected by 
 correspondents and the occasional habit of writing be- 
 forehand statements and descriptions of events which 
 they consider certain to happen, are well known, and 
 there are probably few who would attach more impor- 
 tance to a newspaper paragraph as opposed to the 
 silence of official documents. Moreover, these particular 
 paragraphs, whose source is sufficiently dubious, vary in 
 different copies and one text (that in the Medicean 
 archives) contains the extraordinary falsehood that 
 Bruno had been twelve years in the prison of the In- 
 quisition. The most singular feature, however, of these 
 paragraphs, is that they contain some of the very same 
 errors as does the letter ascribed to Schopp. This is 
 the case, for instance, with regard to the duration of 
 Bruno's residence at Geneva, and the date of the 
 General Congregation of the Inquisition at which he 
 was degraded from Orders. It would therefore seem 
 that the so-called Schopp was fabricated from these 
 notices, or they from Schopp. On the whole, the latter 
 alternative seems the more probable, impossible as it is 
 to conjecture the motives of the forgery in either case, 
 unless it were that Bruno was still alive, and that the
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 243 
 
 forger (who might even have been himself* or some of 
 his friends) had some reason, such as the desirability of 
 concealment, for wishing it to be supposed that he was 
 dead. The execution might have attracted less atten- 
 tion, might possibly even have escaped notice. Hardly 
 so, the General Congregation. The degradation of a 
 clerk from Holy Orders is a rite very seldom performed, 
 and, when it is to be done, the Roman pontifical invests 
 it with every circumstance of pornp and publicity which 
 can impress the popular imagination with awe. The 
 rarity and terrible nature of the occasion, the imposing 
 scene presented by the two Courts, Civil and Ecclesias- 
 tical, both in public session together, the length and 
 solemnity of the proceedings, the striking and spectacu- 
 lar character of the culminating ceremony ; finally, the 
 sight of the convict, guarded by soldiers and police, led 
 through the streets to the common gaol, all these 
 things together seem to make it hardly possible that a 
 professional news-gatherer, writing within the same 
 week, could have been mistaken as to the day upon 
 which the event had taken place. The paragraph which 
 asserts the execution is coupled with and preceded by 
 
 * As intimated in a former foot-note, if Bruno was not really burnt, it 
 is at least as possible an hypothesis as any other, that he was the author 
 of the forged accounts of his own death. The date of the so-called Schopp 
 letter is quite uncertain and Schopp was a man to whom it was very safe 
 to attribute it, especially if he was already dead. Those who cannot or 
 do not believe in Bruno's tragic end will have little difficulty in forming a 
 picture of the wily Neapolitan, liberated from the Roman gaol upon 
 ticket-of-leave after a long course of humbugging the chaplain, evading 
 the surveillance of the Roman police by going into some territory (pro- 
 bably in his native South) where he would be freer to while away his old 
 age in pursuits congenial to the author of the Candelajo, and taking pre- 
 cautions, with grim humour, against the possible suspicions of the local 
 authorities as to his identity, by having accounts of his own execution 
 during a former generation scattered in the literary world.
 
 244 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 another, dated a week earlier, which, as far as it goes, 
 tells the other way, as it proves that, whether Giordano 
 Bruno was ultimately burnt or not, he was certainly riot 
 burnt upon the day when his execution was expected. 
 The paragraph is as follows : 
 
 'Saturday, Feb. 12, 1600. 
 
 ' We believed that we were to have seen to-day a 
 very solemn execution (justitia), and it is not known 
 why it has not taken place. It was that of a Dominican 
 from Nola, a most stubborn heretic, who was sentenced 
 on Wednesday in the house of Card. Madruccio, as 
 the inventor of divers monstrous opinions, to which he 
 adhered most stubbornly, and still adheres, although 
 theologians go to him every day. They say that this 
 friar was at Geneva for two years,* then went to 
 lecture in the University of Toulouse, and then to 
 Lyons, and thence to England, where they say that his 
 opinions were no way liked, and afterwards he went to 
 Ntirnberg, and from thence came into Italy, where he 
 was seized ; and they say that in Germany he disputed 
 several times with Card. Bellarmine ; and, in short, if 
 God does not help him, he will die obstinate and be 
 burnt alive.' 
 
 Then comes the paragraph which asserts the execu- 
 tion. It will be noted that it contains a singular mis- 
 statement as to the nature of Bruno's opinions. The 
 Saints are never mentioned during his trial at Venice, 
 and the Blessed Virgin only once, on which occasion his 
 reply was perfectly orthodox. 
 
 Sic!
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 245 
 
 'Saturday, Feb. 19. 
 
 ' The abominable Dominican friar from Nola, written 
 of before, was burnt alive in the Campo di Fiori on 
 Thursday morning. He was a most stubborn heretic, 
 and having, from his own mere whim, constructed divers 
 dogmas against our faith, and in particular against the 
 Most Holy Virgin and the Saints, the wretch willed 
 stubbornly to die in them ; and said that he died a 
 martyr and willingly, and that his soul would go up to 
 Heaven with the smoke bnt he knows now whether he 
 spoke the truth.' 
 
 The third and last testimony is of a different and far 
 more incisive kind. There existed in Rome in 1600, 
 and does still exist, a Lay Brotherhood named in honour 
 of the Beheading of John the Baptist (San Giovanno 
 Decollate), who undertake the special duty of comfort- 
 ing and helping prisoners under capital sentence. Fr. 
 Previti mentions that the archives of this Brotherhood 
 contain a notice of the execution of Bruno. He, how- 
 ever, does not give it, from which it may be inferred 
 that he never saw it, for it is of such a character that 
 if he had seen it he would certainly not have omitted it. 
 The present writer, anxious to know what it was, ad- 4 
 dressed to Mr. H. D. Grissell, at Rome, a request to 
 procure for him, if possible, a copy of it. The gentle- 
 man named had the goodness to apply to the Marchese 
 Ricci, the present Head of the Brotherhood in question, 
 and he, with immediate courtesy, forwarded the extract. 
 It appears that in the Index to the Archives of the 
 Brotherhood there is the reference ' Bruni-Giordano. 
 Apostate friar. Burnt alive as a stubborn heretic. Died 
 unrepentant. Anno 1600. Vol. xvi. p. 87.' And in 
 Vol. xvi. at p. 87, is this entry :
 
 246 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 ' 1600. Thursday. Feb. 16. During the night, 
 notice was given to the Brotherhood that in the morn- 
 ing was to take place the execution of a sufferer. And 
 therefore, at the sixth hour of the night,* the Comforters 
 and Chaplains met at St. Ursula's, and went to the 
 prison of Torre-di-Nona, where they entered the chapel, 
 and offered the accustomed prayers. There was then 
 placed in their care, as condemned and ordered for 
 death, etc., Giordano, son of the late John Bruno, 
 Apostate Friar, of Nola, in the kingdom [of Naples], an 
 unrepentant heretic. The brethren exhorted him with 
 much love, and caused send for two Fathers of St. 
 Dominic, and two of the Holy Name,t two from the 
 Chiesa Nuova, and one from St. Jerome's, who, with all 
 affection and great learning, showed him his mistake, 
 but he remained to the end in his accursed stubborn- 
 ness, deluding his own brain and understanding, with a 
 thousand errors and vanities. Thus perverse he was 
 led by the executioner (ministro di giustizia] into the 
 Campo di Fiori, where he was stripped naked, bound to 
 a stake, and burnt alive. Our brethren went with him 
 all the way, singing the Litany : and the Comforters 
 entreated him, up to the very last moment, to lay aside 
 his stubbornness, in which he finally finished his 
 wretched and unhappy life.' 
 
 * Taken by the old Italian reckoning from the ringing of the Evening 
 Angelus, and by the hour of the Angelas in Rome in February, this means 
 midnight. The sense seems to be that at some hour after night had fallen, 
 the members of the Guild received an intimation of the impending execu- 
 tion, but not of. the name of the convict, and were directed not to attend 
 at the prison before midnight. 
 
 t Del Gesn, i.e., Jesuits. They would perhaps have been selected because 
 Bruno was known to have sought the ministry of Jesuits on the only two 
 occasions when he tried to go to confession during his wanderings. The 
 Dominicans, of course, were members of his own Order.
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 247 
 
 It may be admitted at once that this ghastly entry, 
 with its minute and rather business-like details, seems 
 at first sight to leave no room for doubt as to the fact 
 it professes to record. But on a closer examination, 
 the reader finds himself confronted by the fact that it 
 also has a false date. Feb. 16, in 1600, was not a 
 Thursday, as we here find stated, but a Wednesday. 
 This remarkable error seems to show that the entry was 
 not made at the time, but at some subsequent period,* 
 and an whole flood of possible sources of inaccuracy is 
 thus let in upon the record. Once admitted, as this 
 error seems to prove, that this part of the Archives was 
 written up at some subsequent period (perhaps to re- 
 ' place a supposed lost or destroyed original, or merely to 
 make up a complete series of the executions at which 
 the Guild-brethren were believed to have exercised their 
 ministry), and it is easy to picture the rest. The writer 
 had somehow got hold, like others, of the notion that 
 Giordano was burnt, therefore the Guild of St. John 
 Decollate must have been there to console and exhort 
 him, therefore they must have offered prayer in the 
 chapel, sung the Litany on the way to the stake, etc., 
 because such was their custom ; therefore also he was 
 stripped naked, etc., because such was the custom. 
 Thus the whole thing revolves itself into a make-up. 
 There only remains the detail of the hour. Even as to 
 this, the present writer cannot speak, as he does not 
 know how long before the execution it was the custom 
 to send for the brethren, and this may therefore be only 
 another instance of filling in from knowledge of the 
 
 * Is it possible that it may have originated in some calculation back- 
 wards, when it was no longer remembered that 1600 had been a Leap- 
 year ?
 
 248 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 ordinary practice. Moreover, he is unable to tell what 
 arguments, palaeographical or other, there may be to 
 cast doubt upon this portion of the Archives. 
 
 It appears then that all that is really known is that 
 Giordano Bruno was degraded from Holy Orders and 
 handed over to the Civil Magistrate, that he was not 
 burnt on Feb. 12, four days after, when it was expected 
 that he would be so, but that a belief afterwards existed 
 that he was burnt subsequently, on Feb. 17. Was he 
 or was he not ? 
 
 The question is very difficult. It may be summed up 
 thus : 
 
 Upon the latter theory, Giordano Bruno, after con- 
 tending with his judges up to the farthest point where 
 he was able to do so with safety, once more put in 
 practice his own avowed and published principle, and 
 practically said, ' All right. I will recant or profess 
 anything you like, rather than be burnt. Only, for any 
 sake, let me disappear.' And his wishes were complied 
 with. In favour of this hypothesis there is (a) the tre- 
 mendous antecedent improbability of his having held 
 out.* His whole career, and especially his attitude at 
 Venice, seem to show conclusively that he was a man 
 whom nothing would have induced to face the stake if 
 he could by any possibility help it, even if his so-called 
 principles had so required, which they did not. And 
 such a permission to disappear (say, under a false name 
 in some remote penitentiary) is remarkably in conformity 
 with the patience and extreme desire to avoid proceed- 
 ing to extremities with him which were displayed by 
 
 * Except, indeed, upon the theory before mentioned that he had (as he 
 thought) secretly arranged foi a rescue, and refused to recant in order that 
 he might get brought out of the prison for execution.
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 249 
 
 his judges all along, (b) There is the fact, which may 
 be taken as a certainty, recorded in t\\eAvvisi, that the 
 execution did not take place upon Feb. 11, when it was 
 expected to do so. (c) There is the complete, absolute 
 silence as to any such execution having ever taken place 
 at all, of all the official documents and records ; of all 
 the diplomatic agents who were noting every event for 
 their respective Governments ; of all the diarists who 
 were keeping journals of everything that took place, 
 including those who made a special point of executions ; 
 and of all the persons in Rome at the time, when the 
 city was crammed on account of the Jubilee, including 
 many who were connected with Giordano Bruno by 
 country, by religious order, or by literary pursuits, or 
 to whom the cruelties of the Inquisition would have 
 offered a ground for remarks to be seized on with pas- 
 sionate eagerness. 
 
 On the other theory, Giordano Bruno for some reason 
 or other remained inexorable and was burnt alive on 
 February 17. In favour of this there are (a) a letter 
 printed very many years afterwards in an obscure 
 and disreputable publication in a distant country, bear- 
 ing the name of a man of tainted reputation who was 
 possibly dead, and showing almost inexplicable ignorance 
 as to facts otherwise known which it professes to state 
 as by an eye-witness, (6) an anonymous newspaper para- 
 graph, which shows complete ignorance about him as far 
 as can be checked, and (c) an entry with a blunder as 
 to the date, in the present archives of a Roman charit- 
 able association. To these perhaps 'may be added the 
 entire absence of any contemporary statement that his 
 life was spared after February 17, or of any subsequent 
 notice of him of any kind. 
 
 The question, it must again be repeated, is very diffi-
 
 250 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 cult. It could only be settled by the discovery of some 
 fresh evidence whicb may have hitherto eluded the most 
 searching investigations of historians and antiquaries. 
 But these investigations have been so long and so 
 thorough that it is very unlikely that any such addi- 
 tional evidence exists. It is improbable, therefore, that 
 the mystery will ever be cleared up. And if the pro- 
 posed monument should ever come to be erected in the 
 Campo dei Fiori, it will occupy the singular position of 
 commemorating a problematical hypothesis. 
 
 One thing is certain. The organizers of the Giordano 
 Bruno agitation will never be induced to give up their 
 Martyr by anything so trivial as the mere doubts of 
 historical scepticism. 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 As the extract from the archives of the Confraternity 
 of San Giovanni Decollate has never, as far as the writer 
 of the foregoing article is aware, been printed before, he 
 thinks it as well to give the actual words of the original 
 text, preserving the strange orthography and the sense- 
 less punctuation : 
 
 In the General Index. 
 1600. 
 
 Giustizia di un Eretico. Bruni Giordano 
 
 Impenitente Frate Apostata 
 
 brucciato vivo brucciato vivo 
 
 per Eretico ostinato 
 e mori impenitente. 
 Anno 1600. Vol. 1 6, p. 87.
 
 ULTIMATE FATE OF GIORDANO BRUNO. 251 
 
 In Vol. XV L 
 
 1600. Giovedi 16. Febbrajo, alle ore di notte, fu 
 intimato alia Compagnia che la Matina si dovesse fare 
 Giustizia di uno Paziente, e per, alle 6 di notte, adun- 
 atisi i Confortatori i Cappellani in S. Orsola ed andati 
 alle Carcere di Torre di Nona, entrati nella Cappella, e 
 fate le solite orazioni, ci fu consegnato Scritto a morte 
 condannato, etc. Giordano del q m Giovanni Bruni,frate 
 Apostata, da Nola (di Regno) Eretico impenitente, il 
 quale esortato dai nostri fratelli con gran carita, e fatti 
 chiamare due Padri di S. Domenico, e due del Gesu, due 
 della Chiesa Nuova, e uno di S. Girolamo, I quali, con 
 ogni affetto, e molta dottrina mostrandoli 1'Errore suo, 
 finalmente, stette, sempre nella sua maledetta ostin- 
 azione, aggirandosi il cervello, et intelleto, con mille 
 errori, e vanita, ed anzi, imperverso, nella sua ostiri- 
 azione, che dal Ministro di Giustizia, fu condotto in 
 Campo di fieri, e quivi, spogliato nudo, e legato a un 
 Palo, fu brucciato vivo : accompagnato sempre dalla 
 nostra congregazione cantando le Littanie, e li conforta- 
 tori sino all ultimo punto, confortandolo a lasciare la 
 sua ostinazione con la quale finalmente fini la sua misera 
 ed infelice vita.
 
 
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 PATMOS. 
 
 Island of Patrnos occupies an important position 
 in the Sacred Geography of Christendom, but, un- 
 like the other Holy Places, it is very seldom visited by 
 strangers. There is no regular communication by 
 steamboat. The inhabitants, even amid their poverty, 
 do not turn the sacredness of the spot into a source of 
 profit by organising pilgrimages, and inviting the out- 
 side world to enrich them by paying for temporary 
 hospitality, and for memorials of the journey.* The 
 descriptions which have been published have been very 
 few.t Yet the place is naturally of profound interest. 
 The landscape, in any case, is that which was before the 
 eyes of John. There remains, moreover, the farther 
 
 * No such thing as a photograph can be obtained, nor are there even 
 religious pictures for sale. 
 
 + The principal authority seems to be the Description de I'lle de Patmoa 
 et de Vile de Samos, par V. Guerin (Paris, Auguste Durand, 1856). The 
 description given in the present paper was written almost entirely at 
 Patmos, and before the author had had the advantage of reading M. 
 Guerin's exceedingly valuable work. It is fuller in some respects, especi- 
 ally as concerning the churches, than that work, but poorer in others, 
 especially on antiquarian and historical points. It is published as it was 
 written, but some footnotes have been added, citing with acknowledgment 
 several valuable statements from the French author. In some few par- 
 ticulars, though none of importance, the present writer differs from M. 
 Guerin, owing, no doubt, in some cases, to changes which have occurred 
 since 1855, and, in others, to one or other having misunderstood or been 
 misinformed. 
 
 253
 
 254 PATMOS. 
 
 question, whether, during the revelation of the Apo- 
 calypse, he was conscious of surrounding objects in such 
 a sense that this landscape was, as it were, the pro- 
 scenium on which the figures of the vision appeared. 
 The late Dean Stanley, in a beautiful passage in the 
 Appendix to his Sermons in the East* seems to incline 
 to such an idea : 
 
 ' The " Revelation " is of the same nature as the pro- 
 phetic visions and lyrical psalms of the Old Testament, 
 where the mountains, valleys, trees, storms, earth- 
 quakes, of Palestine occupy the foreground of the 
 picture, of which the horizon extends to the unseen 
 world and the remote future. . . . The view from 
 the summit [of Patmos], with the general cjharacter of 
 its scenery, still more deeply enters into the figures of 
 the vision itself. . . . The view from the topmost 
 peak, or, indeed, from any lofty elevation in the island, 
 unfolds an unusual sweep, such as well became the 
 " Apocalypse," the " unveiling " of the future to the 
 eyes of the solitary seer. It was " a great and high 
 mountain," whence he could see things to come. 
 Above, there was always the broad heaven of a Grecian 
 sky ; sometimes bright, with its " white cloud," some- 
 times torn with " lightnings and thunderings," and 
 darkened by " great hail," or cheered with " a rainbow 
 like unto an emerald." Over the high tops of Icaria, 
 Samos, and Naxos, rise the mountains of Asia Minor ; 
 amongst which would lie, to the North, the circle of 
 the Seven Churches to which his addresses were to be 
 sent. Around him stood the mountains and islands of 
 
 * Sermons in the East, pp. 229-231. The passage cited was evidently 
 written away from the spot, and somewhat carelessly ; for instance, the 
 Dean had evidently entirely forgotten the respective positions of Asia 
 Minor and Naxos with regard to Patmos.
 
 PATMOS. 255 
 
 the Archipelago "every mountain and island shall be 
 moved out of their places ; " " every island fled away, 
 and the mountains were not found." At his feet lay 
 Patmos itself, like a huge serpent, its rocks contorted 
 into the most fantastic and grotesque forms, which may 
 well have suggested the "beasts" with many heads 
 and monstrous figures, the "huge dragon" struggling 
 for victory a connection as obvious as that which has 
 often been recognised between the strange shapes on 
 the Assyrian monuments and the prophetic symbols in 
 the visions of Ezekiel and Daniel. When he stood 
 " on the sand of the sea," the sandy beach at the foot 
 of the hill, he would see these strange shapes " arise 
 out of the sea" which rolled before him. When he 
 looked around, above or below, " the sea" would always 
 occupy the foremost place. He saw " the things that 
 are in the heavens and in the earth and in the sea." 
 The angel was " not to hurt the earth or the sea" or 
 " to blow on the earth or on the sea." " A great moun- 
 tain," like that of the volcanic Thera, " as it were 
 burning with fire," was " to be cast into the sea." The 
 angel was to stand with " his right foot upon the sea, 
 and his left foot on the earth ; " " the vial was to be 
 poured out upon the sea;" the voices of heaven were 
 like the sound of the waves beating upon the shore, 
 " as the sound of many waters ; " " the mill-stone was 
 cast into the sea;" "the sea was to give up the dead 
 which were in it ; " and the time would come when 
 this wall of his imprisonment which girdled round the 
 desolate island, should have ceased ; " there shall be no 
 more sea." . . . We understand the Apocalypse 
 better for having seen Patmos.' 
 
 On the other hand, we get such a view as that ex- 
 pressed by Renan. Writing upon this very point, he
 
 256 PATMOS. 
 
 says,""" speaking of the Apostles in general and of the 
 Beloved Disciple in particular : 
 
 ' Men so heated as those sour and fanatical descend- 
 ants of the ancient prophets of Israel, carried their own 
 imagination about with them wherever they went ; and 
 this imagination was so uniformly imprisoned within 
 the sphere of the ancient Hebrew poetry, that the 
 nature which surrounded them had for them no exist- 
 ence. Patmos is like all the other islands in the Archi- 
 pelago an azure sea, limpid atmosphere, serene sky, 
 great rocks with jagged edges, slightly covered here 
 and there by a scanty coating of verdure. The general 
 appearance of the island itself is bare and barren, but 
 the shapes and tints of the rocks, and the living blue of 
 the sea, specked with white birds and contrasted with 
 the reddish colour of the boulders, form a wonderful 
 picture. The myriads of isles and islets, of the most 
 varied forms, which rise from the waves like pyramids 
 or shields, and dance an eternal chorus round the 
 horizon, seem to be a fairy world belonging to a cycle 
 of sea-gods and Oceanides, leading a bright life of love, 
 of youth, and of sadness, in sea-green grottoes, upon 
 shores without mystery, by turns smiling or terrible, 
 sunny or dark. But such ideas as Calypso and the 
 Sirens, the Tritons and the Nereides, the dangerous 
 
 ' * O 
 
 charms of the sea, with its caresses at once so sensuous 
 .and so deadly, all those refined feelings which have 
 found inimitable expression in the Odyssey all such 
 things entirely escaped the imagination of this gloomy 
 visionary. Two or three particular features, such as 
 the prominence given to the idea of the sea, and the 
 image of " a great mountain burning in the midst of 
 
 * L 1 Antichrist, pp. 376-9, third edition.
 
 PATMOS. 257 
 
 the sea." which he seems to have borrowed from Them,* 
 are the only tilings which have any local colour. Out 
 of a little island formed to be the scene of the lovely 
 romance of Daphnis and Chloe, or of pastorals such as 
 were conceived by Theocritus or Moschus, he has made 
 a black volcano, bursting with ashes and fire. And yet, 
 he cannot have avoided sometimes feeling a sense of the 
 peaceful silence of the night on these waters, when 
 nothing is heard but the occasional cry of a seagull, or 
 the dull blowing of a porpoise. For days together he 
 was in face of Mount Mycale, without thinking once of 
 the victory of the Helenes over the Persians, the most 
 glorious which has ever been gained, next after Mara- 
 thon and Thermopylae. Placed thus in the very midst 
 of the greatest Greek creations, at a few leagues from 
 Samos, from Kos, from Miletus, and from Ephesus, he 
 dreamt about other things than the colossal genius of 
 Pythagoras, of Hippocrates, of Thales, or of Heraclitus ; 
 for him the glorious memories of Greece had no exist- 
 ence. The poem of Patmos ought to have been some 
 Hero and Leander, or an idyll in the manner of Longus, 
 celebrating the gambols of beautiful children upon the 
 threshold of love. But the dark enthusiast, cast by 
 accident upon these Ionian shores, never got out of the 
 circle of his Biblical recollections. Nature for him was 
 the living chariot of Ezekiel, the monstrous cherub, the 
 unnatural bull of Nineveh, an outrageous zoology which 
 sets sculpture and painting at defiance. That curious 
 defect which, to the eyes of Orientals, seems to change 
 the forms of nature, the defect which causes all the 
 figured representations that come from their hands to 
 
 * And Renan from Stanley ; the quotation is not exact. The words 
 (Apoc. viii. 8) are " As it were a great mountain burning with fire was 
 cast into the sea." 
 
 R
 
 258 PATMOS. 
 
 seem fantastic and lifeless, was at its climax in him. 
 The disease which he bore in his bowels coloured every- 
 thing to his sight. He saw with the eyes of Ezekiel 
 or of the author of the Book of Daniel ; or rather, he 
 saw nothing but himseif, his own passions, hopes, and 
 hatreds. A vague and dry mythology, already Cab- 
 balistic and Gnostic, and all based upon the conversion 
 of abstract ideas into Divine beings, has put him out- 
 side the range of the plastic conditions of art. No one 
 has ever shut himself out more entirely from his sur- 
 roundings ; no one has ever more openly renounced the 
 sensible world, in order to substitute for the harmony 
 of the reality, the contradictory chimeera of a new earth 
 and a new heaven.' ~* 
 
 As a matter of fact, the island of Patmos belongs to 
 that class of Greek landscape which is strongly sugges- 
 tive of the north-west coast of Scotland. A very fair 
 idea of its general appearance would be formed from 
 some of the wildest and most barren coasts of the 
 islands, allowing only for the living sapphire of the sea, 
 the luminous transparency of the atmosphere, and the 
 fact that the rocks are brown rather than grey. It is 
 extremely picturesque, from its wild forms, but it is one 
 of those places which, like the island of Bute, afford the 
 best views to those who are upon them rather than to 
 those who see them from the outside. To a passer by, 
 it presents no features so striking as the heights of 
 Samos, which tower in view of it. But to him who has 
 
 * This characteristic outburst is said to have been written by M. Renan 
 without ever having enjoyed the advantage of being on the island in ques- 
 tion. He himself says that after struggling for an whole day, the state of 
 the wind prevented his entering the port. This does not, of course 
 necessarily imply that he did not succeed on some other occasion ; but the 
 present writer was informed on the spot that he never had been there, and 
 the same assurance was given to Vannutelli.
 
 PATHOS. 259 
 
 landed in it, and explores its hills and glens, it affords 
 extraordinarily beautiful pictures, both in its own wild, 
 though limited landscapes, and in the vast and en- 
 chanting prospect which it offers on either side. In 
 form, it is so irregular, that it seems simply a group of 
 stony hills, linked together by narrow isthmuses, and 
 separated by deep bays, while other hills, still unjoined, 
 rise from the sea in the form of islets around its shores. 
 The predominant feature of the island is sterility. The 
 masses of rock and stones are thinly sprinkled with 
 small tufts of brownish herbage. The cultivated land is 
 confined to the bays and a few glens, and, except in the 
 North, is only a small fraction of the surface. Trees, 
 and even bushes, such as pomegranate or prickly-pear, 
 are rare, and hardly to be found except in the scanty 
 gardens/" Such as it is, the surface of the country is 
 streaked with stone walls, dividing the different pro- 
 perties. The inhabitants, about three thousand in 
 number, are poor. The corn which they produce does 
 not suffice for their own consumption ; f and the burden 
 of 200, which, with another 100 made up by the 
 monastery, they are obliged to pay yearly to the Porte, 
 lies heavy on them. 
 
 It may be questioned, however, whether, in their 
 present condition, they would be much improved in 
 circumstances by being added to the free Greek isles, 
 which they can see in fair weather from their shores. 
 The Turkish Government leaves them very much alone, 
 partly owing to stipulations made when this and other 
 islands were exchanged for Euboia, partly also, perhaps, 
 
 * M. Guerin says that the three largest trees which he observed were in 
 a small glen called Troas, in the North- West. 
 
 t They also make a little very good sweet wine ; they fish for sponges, 
 and the women have a considerable industry in knitting socks.
 
 2 GO PATMOS. 
 
 because they have little to lose cantabit vacuus coram 
 latrone viator. Were they reunited to their own 
 people, more money might perhaps be spent upon public 
 works or even private enterprise, but the taxation 
 would be, at least, not less, and they would fall under 
 the law of universal military service, and annual calling 
 out of the Reserve, from which they are now exempt. 
 Moreover, the ecclesiastical legislation of Greece would 
 be only too likely to hamper the beneficent activity of 
 the monastery, which may be called their mainstay. 
 
 The natives are all Christians, and Hellenes by race 
 and language. The latter they speak with fair correct- 
 ness Of the precepts of religion they seem to be most 
 scrupulouslv observant.* The island only contains 
 some half-dozen Mohammedans, who are among the 
 officials sent by the Government. The Governor him- 
 self is a Christian. The island is distinguished by the 
 enormous number of its churches. These are counted 
 by hundreds. It is hardly possible to find any spot 
 from which several are not to be seen at once. Indeed, 
 in the less inhabited parts the mind receives the im- 
 pression that there are more churches than houses. 
 They stand together in couples and triplets, and in 
 groups almost like hamlets. All of them are small. 
 The larger have domes, but the great majority are 
 merely small, oblong, vaulted apartments, with a small 
 apse at the end, and incapable of accommodating more 
 than twenty or thirty persons with comfort. Only 
 very few of them are in ruins. They are mostly kept 
 in thorough repair, and with great care and cleanliness. 
 In the majority, Mass is only said on the Titular Feast, 
 
 * M. Gue'rin observes that, as far as his temporary residence afforded 
 him an opportunity of observing, the public morality is very good, and 
 marriage held in the highest esteem and respect,
 
 PATMOS. 261 
 
 but others are served either at regular intervals or con- 
 stantly, and the popular piety manifests itself, especi- 
 ally on Sunday, by the burning of lamps and incense in 
 almost all, while fresh decorations of flowers are placed 
 upon the pictures. 
 
 These churches of Patmos present some local 
 peculiarities. The arrangement of the eikonostasion, 
 or image screen, which shuts off the sanctuary from the 
 body of the church, is somewhat peculiar. It is always 
 of wood, and generally slight, whereas, elsewhere, it is 
 often of stone or marble, and the upper part is here, in 
 some cases, left very open, almost like a Western chan- 
 cel screen. Elsewhere it has usually three doors, viz. : 
 the Holy Doors leading directly to the Altar, and others 
 on the North and South, leading to the Prothesis, or 
 Credence, and the Diakonikon, or Vestry, respectively ; 
 here there is no door to the Diakonikon. The three 
 divisions are never here, as often elsewhere, separated 
 by walls pierced with doors, behind the screen. Else- 
 where, the doors in the eikonostasion are very often 
 closed by painted shutters ; here, by veils. In ordinary 
 cases, the picture of Christ, which occupies the panel of 
 the eikonostasion to the South of the Holy Doors, has 
 next to it a picture of the Baptist, and that of the 
 Blessed Virgin, on the North side, has next to it a 
 picture of the Patron Saint, or of the subject of the 
 Titular Feast ; here there are rarely more than three 
 pictures on the main line, viz., those of Christ and His 
 Mother, and that of the Patron, in the place usually 
 occupied by that of the Baptist. The standard candle- 
 sticks before the screen, which are generally of wood, 
 are often of an interesting Byzantine, if not classical, 
 design, resting on four feet and consisting of four thin 
 clustered shafts, intertwined in the middle.
 
 262 PATMOS. 
 
 The Southernmost division of the island of Patmos 
 consists of an uninhabited and singularly barren group 
 of hills, of which the highest point (789 ft.) is called 
 Mount Prasson. From the South point of this group, 
 there runs into the sea one of those curious masses of 
 jagged rocks with which the waters immediately around 
 the shores of the island are often broken, and which in 
 this case bears a remarkable resemblance to the Needles 
 of the Isle of Wight. This Southern division of the 
 island is almost cut off from the rest by the deep bays 
 of Port Stauros on the West, and of Tragos on the East. 
 They are separated by a low sandy isthmus, in the 
 midst of which, on an incidental hillock, stands the 
 Church of the Holy Cross (Stauros). There is here a 
 little cultivated ground, and two or three cottages. In 
 the bay of Tragos lies the uninhabited island of Tra- 
 gonesos, in somewhat the same way as, upon a much 
 larger scale, the Holy Island lies in the Bay of Lamlash. 
 
 The division of the island which next follows is that 
 which contains most of the places and objects of interest. 
 On the summit of its central hill rises the great monas- 
 tery, with the white houses of the town clustered under 
 the shelter of its fortress-like walls, and presenting the 
 main object which strikes the eye on approaching the 
 island, the whole group quaintly flanked by a row of 
 four large windmills on the East and another isolated 
 windmill on the West. 
 
 To this division belongs, in the bay of Tragos itself, 
 an extremely curious isolated rock, united by a narrow 
 strip of sand to the coast at its North-West corner. 
 This great rock, which was split by lightning about 
 twelve years ago, and thus suffered great alteration in 
 shape, bears many traces of the hand of man which are 
 stated to be of classical times, and strongly resemble
 
 PATMOS. 263 
 
 similar marks, of a very early period, to be seen else- 
 where in Greece. Towards the sea, regular flights of 
 steps have been formed, going up to the summit, where 
 there is a deep cutting, opening towards the land, but 
 ending, in the midst of the rock, in a well or cistern 
 now nearly filled up. The peculiar cuttings among 
 which the steps ascend have the appearance of places 
 prepared for the fixing of votive offerings or tablets. 
 The most probable explanation seems to be that here 
 was some antient pagan shrine, perhaps of the sea- 
 sprung Aphrodite, as there are at the base some ruins 
 of a small church of the Blessed Virgin under the title 
 of Phylattomene, " the Protected." There is said to 
 have formerly been an hermitage on this rock. 
 
 From the shore at this point a valley runs inland, 
 which imperfectly divides the Southern portion of this 
 group of hills from the Northern, where stands the 
 monastery. In the bottom and sides of this valley 
 there is a certain amount of cultivation and a few houses. 
 The chief feature in the Southern half-district is Mount 
 St. Elias, the highest hill in the island (874 ft.) which 
 rises on the Western side. It is the highest point of a 
 group of hills which ascend abruptly from the waters of 
 Port Stauros.* On the summit of the highest peak is 
 a group of buildings, comprising a small court, a terrace, 
 a few chambers, and the church of St. Elias.t This 
 church belongs to the domed and rather larger class, 
 
 * The South-Western extremity, called Mount Kynops, which is al- 
 most as high as Mount St. Elias. is said by M. Gu6rin to contain a cave 
 still viewed with superstitious dread as the former dwelling of Kynops, a 
 magician who is stated by the legend to have opposed St. John. 
 
 fM. Guerin cites the legendary work of pseudo-Prdchorus for the exis- 
 tence of a temple of Zeus in the island. It may possibly have been on 
 this height, as his temples, as Lord of heaven, are sometimes placed on 
 hill-tops.
 
 264 PATHOS. 
 
 and has a very handsome carved wooden eikonostasion, 
 entirely gilded. The view from Mount St. Elias offers 
 a lovely panorama of the islands of the Archipelago 
 both on the European and on the Asiatic side. The 
 sea can be seen extending entirely round Patmos itself, 
 except where a few peaks here and there rise above the 
 line of sight and touch the distant landscape of some 
 neighbouring island. Even within the nearer range of 
 vision, Mount Mykale rises from Latmos on the North 
 East, and comes close up to Samos, and then the sea 
 stretching towards Chios is broken by Ikaria, while 
 farther to the West appear Tenos, Delos, and Mykone ; 
 to the Southward, Naxos, Amorgos, Astyphalaia, and, 
 coming again to the Asiatic side, Kos, Kalymnos, Leros. 
 The view is one of those such as are afforded by few 
 regions upon earth except the ^gean Archipelago. The 
 senses are enchanted by its beauty, and the thoughts 
 ennobled by the historical memories with which it is 
 instinct but deeper feelings are stirred in the Chris- 
 tian, as, standing in the island hallowed by the power 
 of his living religion, he gazes upon those which were 
 once revered as the sanctuary of Hera, the birthplace of 
 Apollo and Artemis, and the scene of the union of 
 Dionysos and Ariadne. 
 
 The Western end of the valley of which we have 
 spoken, sinks through the rocky bed of a winter torrent 
 into a small narrow delta. This is the most fruitful 
 spot in the island. Closed in to the North, East, and 
 South, by crags, above which, to the South, towers 
 Mount St. Elias, this little strip opens Westward to the 
 sea. It is called the Kepos totl 'osiou, * ' the garden of 
 
 * "Osios always means a monk, as opposed to agios, which is applicable 
 to any Saint.
 
 PATHOS. 265 
 
 the Venerable,' i.e., Christddoulos, the founder of the 
 monastery. The South side is really a wooded declivity, 
 and the whole few acres offer a little expanse of kitchen- 
 garden and fruit trees, in great contrast to nearly every 
 other spot in the island. Here is the well said to have 
 been called up by Christodoulos from the rock ; the 
 water is slightly, though not disagreeably, brackish. 
 In this favoured spot is a farm-house, to which is attached 
 the Church of the Holy Anargyroi the 'Unrnercenary' 
 Physicians Cosmas and Damian, who. after attending 
 the poor gratuitously, gained the crown of martyrdom 
 under Maximian. This little valley is closed on the 
 landward side by a cliff, partially clad with prickly pear 
 and other herbage, and crowned by a small fortress, 
 consisting, like those of the Borders, of a tower and 
 walled enclosure, within which stands the Church of the 
 Annunciation the Evangelistria the ' Good-tidings- 
 bringer.' 
 
 As the traveller returns up the narrow water-course 
 from this Garden, he finds before him, on the left side 
 of the valley, the considerable and antient Church of 
 the Blessed Virgin under the title of the Panagia 
 Kyria Eleodsa, the ' All-holy Merciful Lady/ imme- 
 diately above which scattered houses imperceptibly 
 increase in number, until they touch the steep walls of 
 the nunnery, arid pass into the town clustered round 
 the monastery. 
 
 This great monastery of St. John the Evangelist is 
 the principal institution of the island. It was founded 
 in the last quarter of the Xlth century, by a monk 
 named Christodoulos,* with the favour and assistance 
 
 * That is, " Servant of Christ," the same as the Gaelic Giollachrist, or 
 Gilchrist.
 
 266 PATHOS. 
 
 of the Emperors Nikephoros and Alexios Komnenos. 
 This Christodoulos was born of wealthy parents in 
 Bithynia, about the year 1020. His baptismal name 
 was John. He originally retired to a monastery 
 on the Mount Olympus, near Prusa, but, after 
 the death of his master, made a pilgrimage to Rome, 
 and thence to the Holy Places in Palestine, where 
 he entered the monastery of St. Saba. Moham- 
 medan Arabs having taken the monastery and murdered 
 a number of the monks, the survivors fled for a while, 
 and Christ6doulos returned to Anatolia, where he 
 entered a monastery of the most rigid observance, of 
 which he rose to be Superior, and afterwards became a 
 sort of Provincial of the district. His monastery having 
 been destroyed by pirates, he was invited to be Superior 
 of the community of Kos, but, believing, after a while, 
 that the monks were hopelessly corrupted by wealth, he 
 withdrew with his disciples, and petitioned the Emperor 
 to grant him Patmos, which had then become desert. 
 He obtained this wish, after he had, at the Emperor's 
 request, attempted to discharge the duties of Superior 
 over the monasteries of Zagora, where, however, the 
 monks refused to accept his reforms. The difficulties he 
 experienced in Patmos were almost insurmountable, and 
 in the end he was forced by the ravages of pirates to 
 retire to Euboia, where he died in the Lent of the year 
 1161. Before his death he besought his disciples to 
 bring back his body, along with certain objects, to 
 Patmos. They did so, and there, in accordance with 
 his wish, he now sleeps.* 
 
 * The writer gratefully acknowledges his obligation for his [earliest] in- 
 formation concerning Christddoulos, and on several other points, to the 
 Dominican Friar, Vannutelli, in his little book intituled Un quinto sguardo 
 all' Oriente Patmos. (Rome, 1884). The book itself is rather an account
 
 PATMOS. 267 
 
 The monastery stands upon a height (over 600 feet), 
 almost in the centre of the island, and the principal 
 church occupies the site of the temple of Artemis, the 
 foundation of which was ascribed to Orestes. The 
 building, as has been already observed, is the most pro- 
 minent feature on approaching the island, and has, from 
 a distance, somewhat the appearance of a mediseval 
 castle, faintly recalling, on a very small scale, the effect 
 of the Papal Palace at Avignon. The principal town of 
 the island is gathered round it on the hill-top. Both 
 town and monastery, however, appear larger from a dis- 
 tance than when seen close at hand ; the town, in 
 especial, is little more than a very large village, though 
 built of handsome stone houses of several storeys. The 
 monastery is now occupied by about forty-five inmates, 
 and the Abbat, as in ancient lona, enjoys the ecclesias- 
 tical jurisdiction of the whole island. A retired Bishop 
 resides in another part, but is only called in for the 
 doing of those things which are special to the Episcopate. 
 The state of discipline in this monastery is what would 
 be considered in the West extremely relaxed. The 
 monks are left very free in the disposal of their own 
 time. The community life has been abandoned to such 
 an extent that the Refectory is disused ; they eat alone 
 or unite to form messes, where and when they please, 
 and are said to be allowed to add to the commons served 
 
 of the author's journey and observations than a description of the island. 
 This work, and its four preceding sgtiardi La Palestina, Monte Athos, La 
 Moiea, Constatttinopoli, are .of great merit in themselves, and offer a 
 striking instance of how a man with very strong convictions of his own is 
 able, in the love of Christ, warmly to recognise good in those who differ 
 from him. [The biographical notice of Chriatddoulos in the work of M. 
 Guerin, from which that in Vannutelli's pamphlet seems probably derived, 
 is much fuller. It was taken by M. Gue"rin from the contents of a MS. in 
 the library of the monastery].
 
 268 PATMOS. 
 
 out to them, and even to possess property. They are 
 mostly, if not exclusively, natives of the island. Divine 
 Service is celebrated in the great church daily, from 6 
 to 10 a.m. and for an hour in the afternoon at a varying 
 time, but only the Superiors, some of the juniors, and a 
 detachment told off, week by week, are obliged to take 
 part in it ; many, however, do so voluntarily. This 
 laxity of monastic regulation is not, however, accom- 
 panied by the least indication of anything like luxury, 
 dissoluteness, or idleness. The house, which is a model 
 of cleanliness, is distinguished by a quiet severity of 
 living, almost amounting to hardship. The income of 
 the community is believed now to be about 1600 a 
 year, as they have considerable property in other places, 
 outside the island. The Abbey seems to be the Pro- 
 vidence of the island. Besides providing for the service 
 of the churches, the monks largely support a monastery 
 of about thirty nuns, who are charged with the care of 
 the female education, for which they support two schools. 
 They keep up three schools for boys, for which they 
 employ four schoolmasters. They also support two 
 physicians, who are provided with an excellent chemist's 
 shop. Lastly, they voluntarily contribute about a 100 
 annually, a third of the taxation required from the 
 island by the Turkish Government. Nothing can exceed 
 the kindness with which they receive strangers, to whom 
 they habitually offer the ungrudging hospitality of their 
 house, and to whom they are most courteously willing 
 to show the artistic and historical treasures in their 
 keeping. In this respect, however, they are but at one 
 with the rest of the islcinders, whose unaffected civility 
 is very striking, and forms one of the most agreeable 
 features which meet a traveller. It is to be regretted
 
 PATMOS. 269 
 
 that the monastery is not to a greater extent the home 
 of historical, antiquarian and artistic study. 
 
 The interior of the monastic building, which is re- 
 markable for the scrupulous care with which it is kept, 
 presents a complicated labyrinth of courts, stairs, pas- 
 sages, and terraces. Its belfry is provided with some 
 fine bells, partly Russian and partly Venetian. It has 
 eleven churches,* of which, however, three, named re- 
 spectively in honour of the Holy Apostles, St. George, 
 and St. Onuphrios, are outside the main precinct. These 
 are very small, as are also those within the walls dedi- 
 cated in honour of the Cross, of the Forerunner, of All 
 Saints, of St. Basil, and St. Nicolas. The Church of the 
 Blessed Virgin and that of St. Christodoulos are united 
 in one block with the great Church of St. John, which 
 is commonly called the Katholikon. This great church 
 itself is only about thirty-one feet square inside. It is 
 approached by two exonarthekes or porches, which run 
 the whole way along the front both of the great church 
 and that of St. Christodoulos. The outer of these 
 porches is plain, and supported on square stone pillars 
 or piers. The inner has heterogeneous marble columns, 
 doubtless proceeding from divers early edifices, united 
 by a marble balustrade, and is covered over with modern 
 paintings of a rude description, to the subjects of which 
 the apocryphal narrative of pseudo-Prochoros regarding 
 the residence of St. John in Patmos, has been allowed 
 to contribute much more than could have been expected 
 from the language usually employed concerning that 
 
 * One of the reasons for the multiplication of churches in Greek monas- 
 teries is the rule against more than one Mass being said upon any one altar 
 upon the same day.
 
 270 PATMOS. 
 
 work by the local clergy.* In the South corner of this 
 inner porch, near the door of the Chapel of St. Christo- 
 doulos, stands a large stone font for the blessing of the 
 Epiphany. The uarthex of the church is entered through 
 three rather narrow door-ways, with jambs and lintels 
 of carved marble, and furnished with most gracefully 
 carved doors of wood. These doors are thickly covered 
 with brown paint, and it would be difficult to assign 
 their date, especially having in mind the Greek capacity 
 for reproducing archaic designs. The narthex itself is 
 a rather narrow corridor, with arches corresponding to 
 the external doors. It is entirely covered with paint- 
 ings. In the place of honour, to the right (South) of 
 
 * A discussion on the pseudo-Prdchoros narrative would demand more 
 space than a footnote affords, and more information than the present writer 
 has obtained. A partial attempt to verify M. Guerin's references has not 
 resulted altogether satisfactorily, as regards that author's accuracy. The 
 legendary narrative in question has certainly been several times re-cast ; 
 and if, which does not appear clear, it is alluded to in the Synopsis 
 ascribed to Athanasius the Great, and if that Synopsis be either really the 
 work of that Athanasius or nearly contemporary with him, the recension 
 there spoken of must have been earlier than any of those seen by M. 
 Guerin, since these contain internal evidence of having been drawn up 
 when both the Council of Nice and the destruction of the great temple of 
 Artemis at Ephesus had passed from living memory. M. Gu6rin collated 
 three recensions. One was a MS. in the library at Patmos ; it does 
 not mention the Apocalypse, and gives a strange account of the Assump- 
 tion of John at Ephesus. The second, equally in MS. at Patmos, is a 
 recension by Niketas, Archbishop of Thessalonica ; it mentions the 
 Apocalypse, and gives a monstrous account of the Assumption. The 
 third is the Latin version in the Bibliotheca maxima Patrum, which, unless 
 the translator took most unwarrantable liberties with his text, must be 
 from a third Greek recension ; it seems to be comparatively the most 
 respectable, but is wanting in the topographical interest of the others ; 
 it mentions the Apocalypse but gives no description of the Assumption. 
 Allowing, however, that pseudo-Prochorus is a religious romance, it is 
 hardly likely that the author evolved it all from his own mere imagination. 
 He would at least in all probability have made use of any local legends 
 floating about in the island, with the topography of which he shows him- 
 self so conversant.
 
 PATMOS. 27 1 
 
 the principal door, is a large picture of the Evangelist, 
 an half-length fully the size of life, which is said to be 
 that offered by Alexios Komnenos. It is decorated 
 with a certain amount of silver ornaments and votive 
 offerings.* At the south end of the narthex a door 
 opens into the church of St. Christodoulos, a very small 
 chapel, almost half of which is occupied by the sanc- 
 tuary. The eikonostasion is of gilded wood, and seems 
 to have been disarranged, as the ornamental carving of 
 the different parts does not centre together. There is 
 no Diakonikon Door, and that of the Prothesis is so 
 awkwardly constructed next the wall as to give the 
 idea that it is a later introduction. An arch in the 
 south wall, closed by painted wooden shutters, contains 
 the body of the Sainted Founder. He lies in a coffin 
 of embossed and chased silver, of no very great antiquity. 
 This coffin is covered with a pall, on the removal of 
 which, a glazed and grated opening appears over the 
 face of the dead. A large portion of the lid can, how- 
 ever, be removed, and the head of the Saint is then seen 
 as he rests. The body is swathed in cloth of gold, and 
 the hands, crossed upon the breast, are sheathed in 
 silver. The head itself is uncovered ; the point of the 
 nose has perished ; but a good deal of skin still remains 
 upon the face. 
 
 The interior of the great church is exceedingly dark, 
 
 * The present writer feels great scruple in making any criticism upon 
 the treasures of a monastery towards whose inmates he entertains a warm 
 feeling of gratitude for the reception accorded him, but he would have 
 given a more detailed description of this picture had he been able to per- 
 suade himself that what now appears is what was presented by the 
 Emperor. He does not pretend to be a judge in matters of archaeology 
 and art, but, as far as he is capable of forming an opinion, the picture 
 must have been at least re-touched within the last few centuries, although 
 the present custodians have forgotten or lost any record of the fact.
 
 272 PATMOS. 
 
 the only light it receives being through the doors, and 
 the windows in the clerestory of the dome. To examine 
 the details in many parts it is almost always necessary 
 to use a candle. Like the narthex, it is paved with 
 large slabs of marble, outlined in worn mosaic, and 
 forming possibly the only part of the original surface of 
 the interior now visible. It is, as has been stated, only 
 about thirty-one feet square, and is of the simplest By- 
 zantine design, containing four columns supporting a, 
 dome raised on a clerestory. These columns are stated 
 to be marble, but have suffered much on the surface, 
 and are now covered with an uniform coating of dark 
 brown paint. The church is furnished with carved 
 wooden stalls all round, and has a canopied throne for 
 the Abbot, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, on the right of 
 the principal door on entering, and back to back with 
 the picture of St. John in the Narthex. The arches are 
 united above the capitals of the columns by carved 
 wooden tie beams, another of which crosses the dome, 
 underneath the clerestory windows, and supports a very 
 large brass chandelier. The general effect is very im- 
 pressive, and belongs to the same class as that produced 
 by the interior of St. Mark's at Venice. The tone is 
 one of subdued gold, deepened by shadow, and relieved 
 by the gleaming of a number of silver lamps, brightly 
 burnished, and of which several are constantly burning. 
 The walls are entirely covered with paintings of sacred 
 subjects, and the dome is occupied, as usual in Greek 
 churches, by the figure of Christ Almighty. These 
 paintings have no pretensions to antiquity, and are now 
 being again renewed. The eikonostasion cuts off the 
 two Easternmost pillars from the body of the church. 
 It is a remarkable mass of wood-carvinf, almost Chinese 
 
 O ' 
 
 in style, dating from the year 1819, and entirely gilded.
 
 PATMOS. 273 
 
 It rises in the middle fairly into the clerestory of the 
 dome, and is surmounted by a (flat) crucifix, wreathed 
 in a mass of golden lilies. The pictures of Our Lord 
 and the Blessed Virgin inserted in it were gifts of the 
 Empress Catherine II. of Russia, but the style is 
 religious, and seemingly untainted by the evil taste so 
 often characteristic of the works due to her influence. 
 This screen, like the others in Patmos, has no regular 
 Diakonikon Door. Beyond the Prothesis Door is a 
 perfectly modern picture of St. James, next the wall ; 
 and in the corresponding place on the other side is a 
 narrow entrance seemingly made for practical con- 
 venience, the proper place of the Door of the Diakonikon 
 being occupied by a picture of St. John, copied from 
 that in the Narthex. The interior of the sanctuary is 
 almost pitch-dark. The altar is said to enclose the only 
 remaining relic of the temple of Artemis. Upon it is a 
 silver Tabernacle, and behind it a large flat crucifix be- 
 tween two large silver fans. It stands in front of an 
 ample apse. 
 
 The Church of the Blessed Virgin is entered from 
 that of St. John by a large, square-headed door in the 
 south transept, opposite which it has another door lead- 
 ing into the open air. It is a long room, with an arched 
 door, furnished with stalls against the walls, and painted 
 all over with figures. 
 
 o 
 
 The great church possesses two treasuries, in which 
 are kept the reliques, books, vestments, etc. The prin- 
 cipal of these treasuries, which contains the reliques, is 
 behind the altar, and is entered by a small door from 
 the Diakonikon. The principal relique is what is be- 
 lieved to be the skull of the Apostle Thomas, which was 
 presented to the church by Ale'xios Komnenos. Here 
 also is shown the skull of Antipas, the ' faithful martyr'
 
 274 PATMOS. 
 
 of Apoc. ii. 13, the upper part of the skull of the 
 Deacon Philip, and large reliques of Saints James, 
 Stephen, George, James the Persian, Basil, and others. 
 They are not so numerous as those shown in many 
 Western churches, but are remarkable for their size. 
 The reliquaries are less intrinsically valuable than 
 archseologically interesting ; some are Gothic in design. 
 These reliquaries, and a certain amount of silver plate, 
 mainly lamps, censers, and candlesticks, are variously of 
 Constantinopolitan, Wallachian, and Venetian work- 
 manship. There is here also a large number of small 
 sacred pictures, of which the best, artistically, seems to 
 be a Russian painting of Christ, executed upon silver- 
 leaf The most interesting is a small picture of St. 
 John, which was the property of Christodoulos ; it is 
 now absolutely black and featureless a condition which 
 is probably the result of having been kissed for eight 
 centuries. There are also preserved the pastoral staff 
 of Christodoulos, like a slight wooden crutch, and bear- 
 ing very little decoration ; and his worn leathern shoes. 
 The genuineness of some links of a chain with which 
 St. John is said to have been bound, is evidently re- 
 garded as very doubtful. 
 
 In the other treasury, entered from the north side of 
 the church, are kept the vestments, some of them in- 
 teresting works of embroidery, especially a red velvet 
 stole embroidered in seed pearls, the richly bound copies 
 of the Gospels, all more or less modern, and a collection 
 of the pastoral staves of the Abbats. The majority of 
 these are of wood, inlaid with rnother-of-pearl or tor- 
 toise-shell, but several are beautiful and precious objects 
 of silversmith's work. Here is shown a pectoral cross, 
 presented by Catherine II. 
 
 The Library of the monastery is a large room over
 
 PATMOS. 275 
 
 the Narthex, and opening into the church by a grated 
 window. It is furnished with book-cases with glazed 
 doors. The great treasure of this Library is the imper- 
 fect copy of the Gospel of St. Mark, of the Sixth Cen- 
 tury, of which other portions are preserved at Rome 
 and Vienna, and of which the vellum is dyed purple, 
 and the text written in silver uncials, the headings and 
 the Sacred Name being in gold.* Of this precious MS. 
 there are here thirty-three leaves. Among the prin- 
 cipal of the other MSS. there are a copy of Job, ascribed 
 to the Ninth Century, with a commentary, and 
 numerous illustrations, which have, however, become 
 unfortunately much defaced by the pigments separating 
 from the parchment ; a MS. of St. Gregory of Nazianzus. 
 of the Ninth Century ; and several mediaeval copies of 
 the Gospels, with beautiful illustrations before each 
 Gospel. In the Library are kept the Imperial Bulls of 
 Nikephoros and Alexios Komnenos ; the golden Bullce 
 themselves have disappeared, but the text of the 
 documents, especially the brilliant red of the words and 
 phrases written by the very hands of the Emperors 
 themselves, remain vividly bright. A number of Papal 
 documents are likewise preserved. There is here also 
 another picture, believed to have been the property of 
 St. Christodoulos. It is a small triptych, covered with 
 sacred subjects, but, unlike the picture in the treasury, 
 it remains very clear and bright, with the exception of 
 the picture of the Last Judgment upon the back, which 
 is unfortunately much effaced. 
 
 The disused Refectory of the Monastery is an hand- 
 some arched stone hall near the Church of the Blessed 
 
 * M. Guerin does not speak of this MS. It was then either not in the 
 island, or was not shown to him.
 
 276 PATMOS. 
 
 Virgin, with a dome in the middle. It is furnished 
 with solid ston tables, containing small hollow places 
 to keep the plates and cups, and has had wooden 
 benches supported upon stone props. The reader's 
 place appears to have been at one end, where are shown 
 the remains of his wooden pulpit. The roof and walls 
 of the Refectory seem to have been entirely covered 
 with frescoes, of which there are very considerable re- 
 mains upon one side. They are traditionally ascribed 
 to the time of Christodotilos, but the tradition of art in 
 the realms of the Byzantine school is, or rather, for so 
 long was, so perfectly conservative, that it is to be re- 
 gretted that some expert has not subjected these works 
 to a searching critical examination. Those on the roof 
 certainly convey an impression of greater antiquity than 
 those upon the walls. 
 
 The town which surrounds the walls of the monastery 
 is remarkable for the scrupulous cleanliness of the 
 houses, which are also well-built and large. The streets 
 are generally rough and narrow. The pharmacy, which 
 is very handsome, seems almost the only place of the 
 external character of a shop, other establishments of the 
 kind being more like stores in private houses. The new 
 girls' school, which has just been finished by the munifi- 
 cence of a lay benefactor, is also a very handsome 
 building. There are several churches, and the nunnery 
 already mentioned, the principal church of which, dedi- 
 cated to the Blessed Virgin, under the title of ' The 
 Life-receiving Spring,' is of much artistic interest ; 
 attached to it is a side-church dedicated to St. John. 
 The relative positions of these two churches are thus 
 exactly the reverse of the two principal churches of the 
 male monastery. The paintings of the nuns' churches are 
 extremely well executed, and have the advantage over
 
 PATHOS. 277 
 
 those in the others of having been little, if at all, altered 
 since they were executed nearly three centuries ago. 
 The classical tradition is extremely well preserved in 
 them. In the narthex is the altar-tomb of the founder, 
 the Priest Anthemios,'" under a low pointed arch, im- 
 mediately above which is his full-length portrait, 
 painted life-size upon the wall. 
 
 The monastery and town are connected with the 
 village of Scala, at the Port, which marks the site of 
 the ancient town, by a road in excellent repair, but 
 closely paved with stones of all shapes and sizes, which 
 render it much easier to ascend than to descend. This 
 road passes at a short distance the principal sanctuary 
 of Patmos. 
 
 The most interesting spot in the island is naturally 
 that which is associated by tradition with the revelation 
 both of the Apocalypse and of the Gospel. This spot is 
 a very large mass of close grey limestone which pro- 
 trudes from the hill-side about half way between the 
 Monastery and the Port, that is, in the days of the 
 Apostle, between the temple of Artemis and the town. 
 It is below and somewhat removed from the present 
 road, upon the right hand of any one going down from 
 the Monastery to the Port, and is now partially covered 
 with a group of buildings comprising four churches and 
 a dwelling. The whole mass is known by the name of 
 the Apocalypse. A very large portion of the original 
 rock remains untouched on the west and north of the 
 building. It is of very irregular shape, more like a 
 mass of huge boulders, and is honeycombed, especially 
 on the west, with curious large hollows, almost 
 
 * M. Guerin calls him Parthenios Pancostas, and gives the date of foun- 
 dation as 1602.
 
 278 PATHOS. 
 
 deserving the dignity of being styled caves. The 
 probability of the tradition grows upon the mind. At 
 first sight it might seem natural to imagine the Seer 
 withdrawing himself to some more solitary place in 
 order to receive the Divine communication. There is, 
 however, nothing in his narrative contained in the 
 Apocalypse to suggest that he had any forewarning of 
 what was about to occur ; on the contrary, there is 
 every indication that he was taken suddenly and by- 
 surprise. Again, his advanced age probably unfitted 
 him for lengthened expeditions from the town in or 
 near which it may be assumed he was lodging. The 
 place is precisely the spot to which it is easy to imagine 
 the Saint as retiring for quiet upon the Sunday,* after 
 perhaps ministering in private to some small handful of 
 believers. There is, moreover, no apparent reason why 
 a false tradition should have seized upon this particular 
 place, which possesses no special feature to generate 
 such an idea. The statement of the Gospel also having 
 been here written appears, upon consideration, not 
 destitute of a certain probability. According to the 
 universal tradition expressed by Jerome, the Gospel was 
 written towards the close of the Evangelist's career, at 
 the request of the churches of Asia. Is it unnatural to 
 suppose that under such circumstances he should have 
 retired from the turmoil of Ephesus, and withdrawn to 
 
 * It has been suggested that the expression ' Lord's Day ' in Apoc. i. 
 10, does not indicate Sunday, but 'the day of the Lord/ in the same sense 
 as in Zeph. i. 14, and elsewhere, and that the meaning is that the Apostle 
 was rapt in spirit to that time. The expression, however, is not ri^py TOU 
 Kvpiov but KvpiaK-rj rif^pf, which is still the usual Greek term for Sunday. 
 The Latin follows the Greek strictly, in giving the ordinary words, ' Do- 
 minica dies,' in place of ' Dies Domini.' That Sunday is meant seems to 
 have been and to be the almost universal opinion. Renan, who certainly 
 does not shrink from novelties, renders it by ' Dimanche,' without remark.
 
 PATMOS. 279 
 
 place himself again at the spot for ever associated in his 
 mind with a marvellous effusion of the Spirit ? The 
 belief that he did so is at least as early as the composi- 
 tion of the Synopsis ascribed, although doubtfully, to 
 Athanasius the Great. The question of the Gospel, 
 however, is of less interest from the merely topographi- 
 cal point of view, as it has never been suggested that 
 that work is in any way affected by local colouring 
 derived from Patmos. 
 
 The view from the top of this crag, although very 
 pretty, is not as striking perhaps as the majority of 
 those in the island. As the spectator stands with his 
 back towards the great monastery, the prospect is closed 
 in upon either hand by the sides of the valley, the 
 hamlet of Scala, surmounted by its ruined Acropolis, 
 lying below on the left. Beyond the Acropolis again 
 can be seen a portion of the large western bay which is 
 separated from the harbour on the east only by a narrow 
 isthmus. The view of the harbour itself is broken by 
 the high rocky promontory which rises from its southern 
 shore, so that it has the appearance of a lake. The 
 largest stretch of sea visible is on the right hand, the 
 mouth of the harbour and the ^Egean stretching to the 
 island of Arki. Behind all this rise the barren hills of 
 the northern part of Patmos itself, and in the distance 
 appear in succession broken views of Ikaria, Mikrosia, 
 Samos, Arki, and Agrelousa,* with a picturesque 
 glimpse of Mount My kale in Asia Minor, to the north 
 of the two latter. The general impression conveyed is 
 that of a sea sprinkled with rugged and remarkably 
 barren islands. The prickly brown herbs upon the hills 
 do not give the impression of vegetation. No green 
 
 * Agrelousa, a very small islet in front of Arki.
 
 280 PATMOS. 
 
 appears except in the scanty gardens and vineyards 
 near the port, and in the hollow of the valley. The 
 beauty of the landscape is derived from the forms of the 
 land, the tint of the rocks and stones of which the 
 islands are composed, the brilliant blue of the sea, and 
 the luminous splendour of the atmosphere. 
 
 The buildings of the Sanctuary of the Apocalypse are 
 kept with the most scrupulous care and cleanliness, 
 which combine with the unaffected courtesy of the 
 guardians to leave a most agreeable impression. Out- 
 side the present house are two large buildings now 
 roofless. These formerly belonged to a school for higher 
 Greek education, and have been abandoned since the 
 Independence of Greece has offered greater facilities at 
 Athens. The building in use is occupied by the priest 
 sent from the monastery to perform the regular religious 
 services in the shrine, and by one or two lay persons. 
 In this upper portion is the small domed church of St. 
 Nicolas, dating from the last century, containing much 
 injured remains of frescoes, executed in a rigidly archaic 
 manner, partly representing events from Scripture, and 
 partly scenes in the legendary life of the Patron Saint. 
 From hence a series of flights of steps, forty in all, lead 
 down past the church of St. Artemios, and the belfry, to 
 the twin churches of St. Anne* and St. John, the latter 
 of which is the shrine itself. Near the belfry may be 
 seen the upper side of the ledge of rock which forms the 
 roof of the shrine. The lower part of the church of St. 
 Artemios, which is stated to be of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury, and is quite plain internally, is cut out of this 
 rock. 
 
 * Considering the situation, it is somewhat difficult to account for this 
 choice of dedication ; it may possibly be on account of the name of the 
 mother of Christodoulos, which was Anne.
 
 PATMOS. 281 
 
 The church of St. Anne is entered from an exonar- 
 thex or porch, from which a square-headed door leads 
 into the narthex proper. The narthex is ahout fifty 
 years old, and consists of a chamber 11^ feet square, 
 covered by a graceful dome well constructed of dressed 
 stones. The arches to the right and left are pointed, 
 but the entrance of the church is smaller and round- 
 headed. To the left is the door of a small lumber-room, 
 and in the angle next the church a marble table-tomb, 
 which is an ossuary containing the bones of the masters 
 of the former school. The pointed arch to the right 
 opens into a hollow which may be called the narthex 
 of the church of St. John, and is almost entirely hol- 
 lowed in the rock. On the left side of the door of the 
 church of St. Anne hangs a large coloured picture on 
 panel representing the Evangelist dictating the Gospel 
 to Prochoros, and on the right is a somewhat similar 
 but much better picture representing Christ enthroned. 
 These pictures, like almost all the others in the island, 
 preserve the strict tradition of Byzantine art. The 
 archaic style is often so well imitated, that, were it not 
 that many are dated, the visitor would be inclined to 
 ascribe to them a much greater antiquity than they 
 really possess. The narthex is slightly askew with the 
 church, which causes the threshold of the latter to be 
 irregular, but the pavement within, which is laid in a 
 good design, measures 18 feet 10 inches to the step of 
 the sanctuary. The original foundation of the church 
 is ascribed to Christodoulos, but it has been subjected 
 to a continual reconstruction, and the existing building 
 is roughly ascribed to the seventeenth century. The 
 breadth from wall to wall is 11 feet 9j inches. The 
 western half of the church is fitted with stalls all round, 
 ending on the right (south) side in a canopied throne,
 
 282 PATMOS. 
 
 for the use of Abbat or Bishop. With the exception of 
 the pier behind this throne, and the stalls, this side of 
 the church is open into that of St. John. The ledge of 
 rock which forms the roof of the latter, runs all along 
 the side of St. Anne's within the Sanctuary as well as 
 without, and upon it rests the pointed vaulting in 
 squared stones, which forms the roof of that church. 
 On the west wall of this church of St. Anne, to the 
 right on entering, is a small picture of the three Saints 
 whose respective Liturgies are used in the Greek 
 Church Basil the Great, John Chrysostom, and Gre- 
 gory the Theologian. Next the screen there is also a 
 piece of wall, containing a small square glazed window, 
 to light the sanctuary of the church of St. John, which 
 is a little shorter than that of St. Anne. On this wall 
 hang two pictures one of the twelve Sainted Physi- 
 cians, including Cosmas and Damian, called the 'Agioi 
 Andrgyroi, from their gratuitous attendance on the poor ; 
 and another, containing in the upper part, the Blessed 
 Virgin between St. John and St. Thomas, and in the 
 lower, St. Germanus of Constantinople between the 
 Prophet Jeremiah and St. Antipas. There is here also 
 a small stand bearing pictures of St. John and of the 
 meeting of Joachim and Anne described in the Apocry- 
 phal Gospels, with a representation, in the background 
 of the latter, of the Annunciations to them in the desert 
 and the garden respectively. 
 
 The eikouostasion of this church is of carved wood, 
 entirely gilt and surmounted by a flat rood, with images 
 of Saints Mary and John to match. It has been altered, 
 or badly put together, as the parts do not centre. It 
 has only the holy doors and the door of the Prothesis. 
 The latter is next the wall on the north side, and the 
 space corresponding to it on the south, and which ought
 
 PATMOS. 283 
 
 to be the door of the Diakonikon, is filled with the pic- 
 ture of St. Anne, a bust rather over life-size. The two 
 other pictures, in the usual positions to north and south 
 of the holy doors respectively, are well-executed works 
 in the archaic Byzantine style, of the Blessed Virgin and 
 our Lord. On the holy doors themselves are painted, 
 in the upper part, the Annunciation ; in the lower, 
 Saints Germanus of Constantinople and Parthenios of 
 Lampsakos. Before this screen stand two handsome 
 brass standards for candles, and there are also several 
 silver lamps, of which some are kept burning perpetually. 
 In this case, as in the other churches of Patmos, the 
 doors are veiled within, not by a painted shutter, as is 
 too often the case in Greece, but by a rich curtain. The 
 interior of the sanctuary is quite plain. There is a large 
 apse, the places of the Prothesis and Diakonikon being 
 taken by niches. The altar bears a very handsome copy 
 of the Gospels bound in red velvet and silver parcel- 
 gilt, a flat wooden crucifix, a large carved wooden taber- 
 nacle, and two solid brass candlesticks. 
 
 On the north side of the church is a window, near 
 the screen, surrounded by several small pictures. 
 Above the stalls hangs a very handsome Russian 
 epitdphios, or winding-sheet, for the ceremonies of the 
 close of Holy Week. On the west wall, beside the 
 entrance, is a picture of the rare subject of the Death 
 of Anne. Looking from the window the crag may be 
 seen descending precipitously, nearly on a plumb line 
 with the wall of the church. It would hence appear 
 that the Church of St. Anne is built upon a platform of 
 rock at a considerable height above the hill-side below. 
 At a distance of some eleven feet behind the edge of 
 this platform, and at a height of some eight or ten feet 
 above it, is the heavy ledge of rock already mentioned,
 
 284 PATMOS. 
 
 projected from the cliff behind, and leaving a large 
 hollow underneath. 
 
 This hollow, some eighteen feet long by fourteen 
 deep,* and six to ten high, is the actual sanctuary of the 
 Revelation. The original form it is now impossible to 
 guess. The rock has evidently been cut away to a 
 great extent, for convenience's sake. At what period 
 such alterations began, it would be folly to speculate. 
 The shape is now continually, although slowly, altered, 
 and the size enlarged, by the amount of chipping which 
 takes place in order to carry away fragments of the 
 hallowed spot. In the narthex, for instance, the 
 breadth is only about half that of the interior. The 
 floor, unlike that of the Church of St. Anne, is, with 
 the exception of a few feet at the north-east, entirely of 
 the rock. It is roughly smoothed, and scored with 
 some lines for water to escape.t The inner side is of the 
 solid rock. The roof, which is very irregular in height, 
 is of the solid rock likewise. In this singular spot a 
 few silver lamps burn day and night before the gilded 
 screen which conceals the altar, itself a mere niche in 
 the rock. These lamps glimmer perpetually upon the 
 sacred picture which occupies the centre of the screen, J 
 and, reaching almost from floor to roof, represents John 
 fallen as dead at the feet of the One who was like unto 
 the Son of Man. 
 
 This picture serves for that of Our Lord which, since 
 the introduction of the eikonostasion, is invariably 
 
 * The piers which separate this church from that of St. Anne reduce the 
 actual internal breadth of the floor to about twelve and a half feet. 
 
 t M. Guerin ascertained that water formerly flowed here. It must have 
 been diverted. This is a singular contrast to the custom of the West, 
 where it would certainly have been treated as a ' Holy Well.' 
 
 J Almost the exact centre. The altar is not quite in the middle, and, 
 the Holy doors being in front of it, are moved somewhat northward.
 
 PATMOS. 285 
 
 placed next to the Holy Doors, upon the right hand of 
 the worshipper. In it, on the ground beneath, the 
 Apostle is represented lying as a corpse. Above him, 
 an halo of angels and sacred emblems enshrine the 
 
 o 
 
 figure which was like unto the Son of Man. Before the 
 
 O 
 
 feet of that figure, resting not upon earth, flame the 
 seven lamps upon the seven golden candlesticks. At 
 the sides, the angels of the seven churches present to 
 the eye of the Great High Priest the sacred objects of 
 their care. His right hand holds the seven stars ; His 
 left hand grasps the keys of hell and of death. This 
 picture is executed with a great power, the essence of 
 which lies in depth of feeling, Scripture study, and 
 honest obedience to a noble artistic tradition, and not 
 in any attempt at theatrical effect. Some of the halos 
 and of the symbolic churches are now cased in silver. 
 
 In accordance with the peculiar local usage of Pat- 
 mos, already several times mentioned, this screen has 
 only two doors, viz,, the Holy Doors and the Door of 
 the Prothesis, which latter is next the wall. Between 
 it and the Holy Doors is the picture of the Blessed 
 Virgin, which is again a departure from the usual 
 custom. It is what is commonly called in Europe ' a 
 Jesse-tree,' that is, a genealogical tree, culminating in 
 the full blossoming of the stem of Jesse, the Rod, which 
 is the Virgin, bringing forth the Messiah-Flower (Is. xi, 
 l). To the south side of the great picture of the Open- 
 ing Revelation, in the place which the Diakonikon door 
 would naturally occupy, is a picture in three divisions. 
 At the side is represented Christodoulos offering up the 
 church ; below is the Evangelist dictating the gospel 
 to Prochoros ; above, is the very rare subject of his 
 Assumption his disciples bury him in the earth, but 
 he is again seen above in the sky, borne heavenward by
 
 286 PATMOS. 
 
 angels. The holy gates themselves bear representations 
 of the Annunciation, and of Gregory of Nazianzus and 
 Basil the Great. 
 
 Immediately in front of the screen the rocky roof is 
 cracked from side to side. A local saying connects this 
 feature with the moment when the Revelation began. 
 When the words, ' I am Alpha and Omega ' were 
 uttered, it is conjectured that the earth shook and the 
 rocks rent.* 
 
 * There is another and coarser form, or development, of this idea, which 
 it is perhaps worth while to mention in a footnote, since abler writers than 
 the present have spoken of it. According to this, the Apostle was beneath 
 this crevice when the Revelation suddenly began ; he turned (Apoc. i. 12) 
 and through this crevice perceived the vision above him, and immediately 
 fell as dead (1 7). A small hollow in the rock on the level with the floor is 
 pointed out as the spot where his head lay. Above this hollow is a cross 
 cut in the rock, the origin of which is by some of the vulgar ascribed to the 
 handiwork of the Apostle himself, and which is stated to sweat phenomen- 
 ally, especially towards the close of the Holy Week. The end of the large 
 crack, on the other side of the shrine, under the rocky ledge which projects 
 into the Church of St. Anne, and which is of a triple form, is similarly 
 said to be the point from which sounded the heavenly voice that dictated 
 the Gospel. These sayings are not narrated by the local clergy as truths, 
 but only as what are, as a matter of fact, the local stories. The narrative 
 which bears the name of Prdchorus is locally treated with an amount of 
 contempt which is greater than it probably deserves. Although it is 
 tolerated to represent him in pictures as writing to the dictation of the 
 Apostle, the little book is sneered at and cried down as an Apocryphal 
 forgery whenever it is mentioned, and seems to be considered unworthy of 
 serious examination. This is hardly fair. It is not denied that it is the 
 great, indeed almost the sole trustworthy, authority upon the antient 
 topography of the island ; and it would be rash indeed to state dogmatically 
 that it includes no remains of genuine tradition. The man is mentioned 
 in Acts vi. 5, and his connection with the publication of the gospel of 
 John has at least the authority of the Synopsis ascribed to Athan- 
 asius. The date and authorship of the narrative put forward in the 
 name of Prdchoros are an entirely different question. It is difficult 
 to think from whom Dean Stanley had heard the unfortunate asser- 
 tion embodied by him in the Appendix to his Sermons in the East, to 
 the effect that the book in question is ' accepted by the Greek Church as 
 authentic.' M. Guerin remarks the more or less complete acceptance or
 
 PATHOS. 287 
 
 The port of Scala, upon which the church of the 
 Apocalypse looks down, is an extremely good harbour, 
 except in the case of directly East winds.* It lies 
 immediately in front of the isolated hill upon which 
 stood the antient Acropolis, and which is united to 
 the North and South parts of the island by low narrow 
 isthmuses, now under cultivation, and divided into 
 fields and gardens by dry stone walls. To the south, 
 and touching 1 the village, rises from the edge of the 
 water a picturesque mass of rock upon which stands the 
 small church of St. Paraskeue. The village itself pro- 
 bably marks the site of the antient capital, and lies at 
 the foot of the Acropolis. It is small, with narrow 
 rough streets, but the houses are clean and well built. 
 
 o 
 
 There are several small churches. Another church 
 stands isolated to the north, upon a rock on the sea 
 
 toleration which it has at times received from certain individual members 
 of that body. The present writer has never met with any of them who 
 did not regard it as a novel or a forgery, and did not indeed, cry it down 
 below what he is inclined to think its deserts. It is perhaps worth saying 
 that the pseudo-Prochoros makes no allusion to the cleft in the rock, and 
 that he mentions the earthquake in connection with the Gospel, ' And 
 after two days, I came unto him [John], as he had commanded me. And 
 I found him standing and praying ; and he said unto me : Take the paper 
 and the ink, and stand at my right hand and I did so. And there was a 
 great lightning, and thunder, so that the mount quaked. I fell unto the 
 earth, and remained [as one] dead. And John put forth his hand and took 
 me, and made me to stand upright, and said : Sit thou at my right hand 
 upon the earth. And he prayed again. And after the prayer he said unto 
 me : Son Prdchoros, that which thou hearest from my mouth, write thou 
 upon the paper. And he opened his mouth even as he was standing and 
 praying, and he looked up to heaven, and began to say : In the beginning 
 was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. And 
 I sat and wrote.' (Translated from the text as given by M. Guerin.) 
 
 * In this harbour is a submerged rock, called Kynops. It must be so 
 termed as if it were the petrified remains of this magician, said to have 
 been drowned, at the prayer of the Apostle, when he plunged in, in order 
 to pretend to bring up alive other persons who had been drowned.
 
 288 PATMOS. 
 
 shore.* It is dedicated to St. John, and is said 
 to mark the place where he first baptized. As 
 he would doubtless have baptized by immersion, and 
 there is no stream in the island in which it would 
 be possible to immerse an adult, it seems probable 
 enough that, if he ever baptized anyone in Patmos, he 
 used the sea for the purpose ; and there may have been 
 circumstances which made it possible for him to do so 
 at this place, notwithstanding its being so close to, if 
 not included in, the antient city. About half way up 
 the hill of the Acropolis, overlooking the harbour, is a 
 large garden, in which the white twin churches of 
 Saints George and Nicholas form a prominent object. 
 Above these the hill is very steep. There are several 
 considerable pieces of the antient walls of the fortifica- 
 tion, built of quadrangular stones carefully fitted 
 together without mortar. These are on the east and 
 
 O 
 
 north sides. The south and west sides are so extremely 
 precipitous, that they probably required less defence, 
 but it is difficult at present to arrive at conclusions. 
 The place would probably reward excavation, but in its 
 present state is little better than a wilderness of stones, 
 amid which are a few earthy patches where an attempt 
 is made to grow corn. On a small natural platform on 
 the west side, overlooking the sea, stands the church of 
 St. Constantino, and just eastward of that church are 
 some remains of antient construction possibly the base 
 of the temple of Apollo.t 
 
 * Though isolated in position, it has a twin which M. Guerin says is 
 dedicated in honour of St. Polycarp, the disciple of the Apostle. He iden- 
 ti6es the spot with the Botry'i of pseudo-Prdchoros. There are still vines 
 not far from it. 
 
 t M. Guerin mentions from pseudo-Prdchoros that the antient town, 
 which was called Phora, possessed, besides the .Acropolis and the temple of
 
 PATMOS. 289 
 
 The hill which forms the north side of the harbour is 
 united to the rest of the island by the same low plain 
 which connects the Acropolis with the land. Close to 
 the shore of the harbour is an isolated group of small 
 buildings which was formerly the lepers' quarter. 
 These wretched sufferers fortunately became extinct 
 about forty years ago, and the buildings have since been 
 allowed to fall into decay, with the exception of the 
 church, dedicated to St. Sozon. On the top of the hill, 
 but invisible from the greater part of the harbour, is a 
 considerable garden containing the hermitage and 
 church of All Saints. The church is above the usual 
 * size, and has a stone dome. Both it and the house and 
 garden are kept with great care by the present occu- 
 pant, an hermit-nun, who has lived in this place for a 
 considerable number of years. 
 
 The northern section of the island, although less 
 interesting in the places and objects contained in it, 
 than those which lie southward, is the largest in super- 
 ficial extent. It presents almost a contrast to the 
 others in point of fertility. There is a little more 
 heather mixed with the prickly tufts of vegetation. It 
 is indeed exceedingly barren, but the barrenness is 
 mitigated by a much larger amount of cultivated 
 and cultivable land. Several little valleys are turned 
 into gardens of a few acres, and on the hill-sides them- 
 selves a considerable amount of ground is painfully re- 
 claimed for the growing of corn. The aspect of some 
 
 Apollo, an hippodrome and a temple of Bacchus (Dionysos). Of the hippo- 
 drome there seems to be no remains visible. If one of the present churches 
 be dedicated to St. Dionysios it may possibly mark the site of the temple 
 of Bacchus. The careful industry of M. Guerin caused him to come across 
 several scattered classical remains, such as capitals, in various spots. There 
 are also a few classical inscriptions. 
 
 T
 
 290 PATMOS. 
 
 of the little glens, struggling into fruitfulness under the 
 barren rocks, is almost like that of cultivated plots in 
 Alpine valleys. This comparative vegetation is most 
 marked upon the east side. Proceeding north from the 
 harbour of Scala come two bays, the second of which 
 contains an island marked by the church of St. Thekla. 
 The name recalls the dim and glorious memories of 
 Apostolic times, when, it is stated by Tertullian, John 
 himself during his lifetime had to condemn as spurious 
 the Acts of Paul and Thekla. Then comes the Bay of 
 Kampos (Qu. Latin, Campus, Italian, Campo?) The 
 small plain or receding shoreland of Kampos is the 
 largest extent of agricultural ground in the island. 
 Here are several acres of vineyard, dotted with white 
 houses and several churches, surrounded by toilsome 
 cornland wrested from the stony sides of the hills, and 
 unpretentiously wooded with prickly pear, pomegranate, 
 olive, terebinth, and at least one handsome palm-tree.'"" 
 On a rising ground to the west stands a defensible 
 tower (now ruined) of the xviith century. From 
 Kampos a walk of about three quarters of an hour 
 leads over the uplands to the northern bay of the 
 island, on the east side of which, in a receding corner of 
 cultivable soil, lies the monastery of the Assumption of 
 the Blessed Virgin. This monastery had become de- 
 serted, and had fallen into lay occupation, until the 
 Bishop at present residing there purchased it, on retir- 
 ing from a lengthened ministry in Egypt. By him it 
 has been adapted to a small community of the most 
 rigid, though unaffected, monastic observance. There 
 he resides himself, along with his brother, the Moral 
 
 * Besides this graceful tree (in a private garden) there are three or four 
 stunted palm-plants in and about the kepos ton 'osiou.
 
 PATMOS. 291 
 
 Consultor and Confessor Extraordinary of the great 
 monastery, and two or three others. The building con- 
 sists of a few cells, humbler than most of our Highland 
 cottages, but differing from many of them (alas !) in 
 their scrupulous cleanliness and neatness. The church 
 of the Assumption itself is the chief feature of the pile, 
 and, small as it is, is among the largest in Patmos. The 
 interior is striking, not from richness, but from the 
 taste and care displayed in it. The eikonostasion, of 
 very finely carved wood, has never been gilded as a 
 whole, the gold being laid only upon the flat back- 
 grounds of the pictures and upon some special portions, 
 such as the rood. The effect, in so light and simple a 
 building, as opposed to the deep gloom of the great 
 church of St. John, is much better artistically than if 
 the intricacies of the workman's skilled handiwork, and 
 the grain of the noble timber, had been confounded 
 under the blaze of gilding. Here sounds for two hours 
 day by day the voice of the prayer and praise of the 
 Church, with rarely any eye but that of Him to Whom 
 it is addressed, to see the officiants. At a few yards 
 from the front of the church the ^Egean chafes con- 
 tinually upon the shore, or beats wildly against the 
 crags, in one of the most lovely of the many lovely 
 corners of Patmos, just as it lapped and beat in the days 
 of the Apostle. 
 
 The question how far the actual scenery of Patmos 
 forms the background of the descriptions in the Apoca- 
 lypse is one upon which it seems impossible to give any 
 decision, and on which it is probable that everyone who 
 has seen the island will either form a judgment for him- 
 self, or which he will determine to leave as insoluble, 
 according to his own taste and opinion. It is evident 
 that upon this question the hypothesis now, however,
 
 292 PATMOS. 
 
 generally abandoned by critics that the Apocalypse is 
 a forgery, has no bearing, for an impostor would be at 
 least as likely as a real author to impart, intentionally 
 or unintentionally, a local colour to his fabrications. 
 Nor is the question affected by an hypothesis such as 
 that of Renan viz., that ' the apostle . . . prepared, 
 in one of the public-houses which there must have been 
 about the seaport, the manifesto which he wished to 
 send before him into Asia'* and deliberately chose to 
 couch his allusions, exhortations, and predictions in an 
 allegorical form ; the labouring imagination would in 
 that case have been extremely likely, having named the 
 spot, to have sought or found assistance in the striking 
 panorama presented to the eyes of the composer. The 
 question is really whether, the idea or imagery of an 
 allegory or actual supernatural vision, or series of 
 visions, being once accepted as that meant to be con- 
 veyed, the author of the Apocalypse is to be supposed 
 as represented from first to last in such a state of trance 
 as to be unconscious of the natural surrounding objects; 
 or whether the visionary figures are to be pictured as 
 appearing against the natural background, as a ghost or 
 object of second-sight is said to do, without destroying 
 the general and ordinary appreciation of the surround- 
 ing phenomena ; or whether, again, the text of the Book 
 is intended to convey a mixed idea that it was some- 
 times one and sometimes the other. 
 
 In view of this latter hypothesis, it will be remarked 
 that the text of the Apocalypse itself implies repeated 
 changes of point of view on the part of the recipient of 
 the Revelation. Even the frequent mention of the sea, 
 
 * LAntechrist, p. 347. For some reason difficult to discern, the public- 
 house is indicated not in French but in Latin, ' quelqu ' 'une des cauponce.'
 
 PATMOS. 293 
 
 a feature so perpetually present to the senses of a so- 
 journer in Patmos, and which Dean Stanley so elo- 
 quently remarks, is by no means unceasing. In the 
 opening vision, extending to the end of the third 
 chapter, there is nothing to imply that the figures are 
 to be understood as appearing amid and against the 
 ordinary and natural scene by which the Seer is sur- 
 rounded. There is nothing to give the idea that the 
 revival of sense mentioned in i. 17 was not a revival to 
 consciousness of earthly surroundings. This conclusion 
 may even be argued from iv. 2, ' immediately I was in 
 the spirit,' from which point the ecstatic is evidently 
 described as close to the Divine Throne in heaven, where 
 he speaks in a private manner (v. 5, vii. 13-17,) with 
 one of the Elders who surround it. Here the point of 
 view seems to remain, at least till the close of the 
 seventh chapter, and the notion of a caution against 
 hurting trees (vii. 3) certainly could not have been 
 suggested by the timberless wildernesses of Patmos. 
 When the seals have been all opened, when the censer 
 has been dashed upon earth, and the trumpets are 
 ready to sound, the appearances narrated are described 
 as by one writing, not in heaven, but upon earth, 
 although there are certainly things spoken of, such as 
 rivers (viii. 10), which are not to be found in Patmos, 
 and few persons familiar with that island will agree 
 with the opinion that the distant spot of Santorin 
 (Thera), which could be at most only a blue stain upon 
 the horizon of a bright day, if indeed ever visible at all, 
 could possibly have suggested the figure (viii. 8) of 'as 
 it were a great mountain burning with fire . . . cast 
 into the sea.' On the other hand, although it may 
 perhaps be only the force of pre-conceived ideas, there 
 are probably few who, from some height such as that of
 
 294 PATMOS. 
 
 the monastery, have witnessed a thunderstorm burst 
 over Patmos, without calling to mind at the moment 
 the words of viii. 5, with which the transition of scene 
 appears to commence, ' And the Angel took the censer, 
 and filled it with fire of the Altar, and cast it into the 
 earth, and there were voices, and thunderings, and 
 lightnings, and an earthquake.' Beyond doubt, again, 
 no background can possibly be conceived, offering, as it 
 does, a kind of microcosm of earth and sea, better 
 adapted to the terrific image with which the tenth 
 chapter opens, than the view from the actual island. 
 Chapter xi. distinctly describes a scene upon earth, 
 namely, the measurement of the earthly temple, and the 
 great city spiritually called Sodom and Egypt, a scene 
 for which the Seer must have been transported from Pat- 
 mos. At xi. 16 the heavenly visions are renewed and 
 continued to the end of chapter xii. At the beginning 
 of the thirteenth chapter, the recipient of the Revelation 
 is abruptly found standing upon the sand of the sea ; 
 the coast of Patrnos is mostly rocky, but there is quite 
 enough sand to have afforded a place for the description, 
 and the microcosmic character of the landscape, already 
 alluded to, favours the idea. With chapter xiv. the 
 Seer is transported far from Patmos, to Syria ; for, 
 whatever disputes there may be upon the topography of 
 Jerusalem, it is admitted that Zion forms, or formed, 
 some part of the group of hills upon which that city 
 stands. After this begins the out-pouring of the vials. 
 It is preceeded (xv. 2) by a figure which will awake the 
 memory of one who has seen the sun rise or set upon 
 the coast of Patmos ' a sea of glass mingled with fire.' 
 The station of the Seer appears to be again in heaven ; 
 he gazes upon the earth as upon a map ; he watches 
 the movements of the inhabitants as a spectator might
 
 PATMOS. 295 
 
 watch the scenes of an amphitheatre. Suddenly (xvii. 
 3) he is carried into the wilderness, but wakes again 
 (xviii. 21) to a momentary consciousness of the sea, 
 before the shouts of heavenly exultation (xix. 1) call 
 him once more to the Divine Throne (xix. 4), whence he 
 seems to return to earthly scenes before the manifesta- 
 tion of 'the Word of God.' Finally, in place of any- 
 thing seen then or now, appear the new heavens and 
 the new earth, and there is no more sea. The stand- 
 point is only changed once more. He is ' carried away 
 in the spirit to a great and high mountain.' Away 
 from whence ? Evidently from some spot where there 
 existed not a great and high mountain, and certainly 
 Patmos offers nothing which could suggest the idea of 
 a great and high mountain to the mind of a peasant 
 cradled in sight of the snows of Hermon. 
 
 Surely in the face of such changes and figures, it 
 must remain in the highest degree uncertain whether 
 the scenery of Patmos is really reflected at all in the 
 imagery of the Apocalypse. It seems indeed possible 
 that the imagination of the ecstatic remained more or 
 less possessed by the habitual view of the imprisoning 
 sea, and its little world of islands, and that his tone was 
 unconsciously affected by it and again, that at certain 
 moments during the trance the cloud of vision broke, as 
 it were, for a little while, and left him conscious, more 
 or less, of the material realities around him. But if it 
 were so at all, it must have been so only to a small and 
 partial extent. The main interest of Patmos remains 
 centered in the fact that it was at any rate the spot in 
 which the great drama of the Apocalypse originated. 
 The traveller, when gazing upon the sea-girt rocks thus 
 hallowed, seems to have his thoughts lifted above 
 material conceptions to things of which earthly phen-
 
 296 PATMOS. 
 
 omena are at best but types and shadows. The 
 glittering around its clusters of islands, stretching far 
 away beyond where the eye can reach, is less a means 
 of materialising the Apocalypse than an help to realise 
 such a conception as has flowed to us from one of the 
 most striking works with which mediaeval devotion 
 in the West has enriched the library of Christian 
 thought : 
 
 ' And whereas she marvelled at the beauty of the 
 Holy John as he appeared lying upon the Lord's Breast, 
 he answered and said unto her : Hitherto I have ap- 
 peared unto thee in that form wherein upon earth I lay 
 at the supper on the Breast of the Lord my Lover and 
 Only Friend ; but now, if it please thee, I will obtain 
 for thee that thou behold me in that form wherein in 
 heaven I am now delighting myself in the joy of the 
 Godhead. And, forasmuch as she was fain to gain it, 
 she forthwith perceived, inside the Breast of JESUS, the 
 Infinite Ocean of the Godhead, and, like a minnow 
 swimming therein a mere speck the Blessed John, in 
 unspeakable love and liberty. And she understood 
 that where the stream of the Godhead poured most 
 mightily into the Manhood, there he would most use to 
 abide. And this Ocean of Absolute Goodness which 
 slaked and yet never satiated the intensity of his desire, 
 did so fill and overcome him, that his heart was seen to 
 give out a little rill, and therefrom to cause many spray- 
 drops of God's Own Goodness to fall throughout the 
 whole bounds of the world : these drops are the healing 
 truths of his saving doctrine, and especially of his 
 Gospel : IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD.' 
 
 * Insimiationes Divince. Pietatis, iv. 14. The work is better known under 
 the popular name of the ' Revelations of St. Gertrude,' but the passage 
 cited is not from the portion certainly attributed to the Saint.
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 Souvenirs d'Enfance et de Jeunesse. Par ERNEST 
 RENAN. Paris: Calm an n Levy. 1883. 
 
 nPHE fact that the copy of this book which lies before 
 us is of the eighth edition invests it with several 
 points of interest which would have been wanting to 
 the first. We know that we can now have no such 
 thing as pages hurriedly prepared for the press, but the 
 expression of the writer's thought in the form in which 
 his deliberate judgment offers it again and again to the 
 public. The most interesting point, however, is the 
 testimony borne to the wide popularity of the work. 
 It must be regarded, altogether apart from its own 
 merits, as a remarkable indication of public taste and 
 feeling, and the tone of thought which extensively pre- 
 vails. This we must ascribe either merely to the 
 interest which attaches to it as, in a sense, the Apologia 
 pro vitd sud of an eminent writer who has renounced 
 Christianity, or to its merely literary merit, although 
 the latter alone certainly places it in a very high rank. 
 The extraordinary grace and elegance of the language 
 charm the reader, perhaps even more than the limpid 
 clearness with which the ideas are expressed, and which 
 is calculated to cause them to appeal to the mind with 
 peculiar force and incisiveness.* It is the success of 
 
 * The same praise cannot be bestowed upon the authorised English 
 translation ( ' Recollections of my Youth. By Ernest Renan. Translated 
 
 .297
 
 298 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 this appeal among his own countrymen which invests 
 the work with its main interest. 
 
 It may be surmised that if M. .Kenan had been a 
 German or a Scotchman, he would not have attained 
 the position of literary distinction which he actually 
 occupies. His mind is one of the German cast, and it 
 is to the rarity of this phenomenon among Frenchmen 
 that we venture to think his success is largely due. 
 The characteristics of the German mind, which we desire 
 to indicate, may be described as a genius for patient 
 investigation and minute accuracy, combined with a 
 remarkable power of thoughtful generalization, pass- 
 ing into forms of philosophical speculation which, to 
 our own temperament, may sometimes even appear 
 wild, but characterised as a rule by a profound instinct 
 of religious emotion. There are thus two sides, the 
 practical and the imaginative, albeit closely associated. 
 Of these two sides M. Renan possesses French imita- 
 tions, far more distinct from one another. He points it 
 out himself, more than once, and at considerable length, 
 attributing it (p. 141) to the Gascon and the Breton 
 blood combined in his veins, ' There are two men in 
 me' (p. 145). 'But,' he says, speaking of the same 
 subject (p. 122), 'since I possessed the faculty of a 
 
 from the original French by C. B. Pitman, and revised by Madame Renan. 
 London : Chapman and Hall, 1883.') This paraphrase is untrustworthy, 
 both as regards idiomatic correctness and fidelity. A good instance is the 
 striking anecdote related on p. 213 (Recollection*, p. 189) ' One day, one 
 of the young men read to the superior, M. Duclaux, part of the report of 
 a Parliamentary debate, which seemed to him shockingly violent. The 
 old Priest, half absorbed into the Nirvana (k moitie' plonge dans le Nirvana), 
 had scarcely heard him. At last he roused himself and pressed the lad's 
 hand. ' My friend,' he said, it is easy to see those men never make a 
 meditation ' (ne font pas oraison). The passages which we have italicised 
 are respectively rendered by ' wrapped up in his own reflections ' and ' say 
 their orisons.' Another and graver instance is referred to farther on.
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 299 
 
 sound judgment, I perceive that the ideal and the real 
 have nothing to do in common.' The point in which 
 his idealism mainly differs from that of a German 
 would appear to be a natural incapacity not only for 
 religious feeling, but for deep and thoughtful feeling of 
 any kind. No man of really deep feeling would, for 
 instance, have mentioned the worship of Aphrodite and 
 Adonis, in the way he has done, when dedicating a 
 work (the Vie de Jesus) to the memory of his sister. 
 Of the imaginative or ideal side of his character the 
 Souvenirs offers a remarkable exhibition, in the shape 
 of the prayer offered by him at Athens, and elsewhere, 
 to some instances of which we will draw the reader's 
 attention. Of his realism we must speak a word or 
 two. It differs from the higher German type for the 
 same reason as his idealism. He tell us (p. 328) that 
 the late M. Gratry ' must have found my precision to 
 be utterly earth to earth.' If such were indeed the 
 judgment of the distinguished writer, we are not 
 inclined to dispute it. It is truly of the earth, earthy. 
 His investigations are like those of the man with the 
 muck rake in the Pilgrim's Progress. In short, what 
 in an higher mind of the German type is the union of 
 scientific accuracy with profound feeling, becomes in M. 
 Renan the collocation off earthiness with sentimentality. 
 But it is not here that our complaint against M. 
 Renan's divergence from German scrupulousness, in the 
 treatment of the real must end. The first and lightest 
 charge which we have to bring against him, in this 
 particular, is a careless inaccuracy as to facts, when the 
 truth can easily be verified. These are not, it is true, 
 matters of moment, but they are straws which show 
 how the wind blows. A graver point is the incon- 
 sistency of phraseology into which he seems carelessly
 
 300 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 to fall. In more than one place, he uses expressions 
 reconcileable only with Theism, where as (pp. 276, 7), 
 looking forward to his own death, he speaks of a death 
 ' precious in the sight of the Eternal,' and proceeds, 
 ' God's will be done,' whereas we learn elsewhere that 
 c an immeasurable wave of forget fulness bears us along 
 into a gulf without a name. O Abyss, there is no God 
 but thou alone ' (p. 72), and ' no free will superior to 
 that of man acts appreciably in the universe' (p. 337). 
 Greater consistency of language than this we think we 
 might justly have expected. But the most serious 
 complaint we have to make on this point is that of 
 avowed and intentional inaccuracy. He tells us (p. 
 363), that, in the earlier part of his life, he lied often 
 enough ('je mentais assez souvent.') This period seems 
 to cover the whole with which the present work deals, 
 and to which the original letters embodied in it belong, 
 for he proceeds to say that his sister placed before him 
 the inconvenience (' les inconvdnients ') of this practice, 
 and that since 1851 he does not think he had told a lie 
 (' je ne crois pas avoir fait un seul mensonge '), with 
 certain exceptions. These exceptions include, not only 
 such things as conventional phrases of politeness, but 
 also 'the little literary falsehoods' ('les petis faux-fuyants 
 litteraires') ' demanded, in view of an higher truth, by 
 the necessity of balancing a phrase,' or not causing pain. 
 The instance he cites that of an author asking your 
 opinion of his works must belong to the latter class, 
 but even the former hardly covers the principle on 
 which the present work has been avowedly composed, 
 and which is stated in the preface (p. iv.) Of course, 
 alterations in name, or even of place or date, to save 
 pain to individuals, may be regarded as lawful enough, 
 as long as no intrinsic importance attaches to them.
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 301 
 
 But what are we to say to the following ? * What is a 
 necessary quality in history would have been a fault 
 here ; everything in this little book is true, but not of 
 that kind of truth which is required from a Biographi- 
 cal Dictionary. Many things have been put in for the 
 sake of raising a smile ; if custom had allowed, I ought 
 more than once to have written in the margin : cum 
 grano sails J In other words, this autobiography con- 
 sists to some extent of intentional untruths, and the 
 unfortunate reader is left to find out for himself where 
 he is to apply the needed grain of salt. M. Renan 
 then instances two portions of the work, one as true ; 
 the other he has discovered to be false however, he 
 has left it as it is. Perhaps some might be inclined to 
 regard this last admission as characteristic he had 
 
 C7 
 
 written it, and, therefore, it is too good to lose, though 
 discovered to be a mistake. 
 
 The view, indeed, which M. Renan takes of himself 
 is, as may be imagined, higher than that which we have 
 ventured to express as created by our own mind in the 
 perusal of this work. The reader, however, may not be 
 prepared for the perfect frankness with which he 
 describes himself. As his opinion of himself, and his 
 own intellectual power, really seems the key to his 
 history, we will place it before the reader in his own 
 words, though it is, of course, only possible to cite a 
 very few of the many passages in which he enunciates it. 
 
 ' An imperative duty obliged me, during the years of 
 my youth, to solve for myself the highest problems of 
 philosophy and religion' (p. 57). ' That great observer, 
 Challamel-Lacour, has admirably said [of me] " He 
 thinks like a man, feels like a woman, and acts like a 
 child " ' (p. 74). ' From my race comes my inability to 
 be ill-natured, or even to seem to be so ' (p. 90). ' I have
 
 302 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 been so formed for goodness and truth that it would 
 have been impossible for me to have followed any career 
 not dedicated to the things of the soul' (p. 135). 'I 
 alone in the present century have been able to under- 
 stand Jesus and Francis of Assisi' (p. 148). ' The first 
 time my fellow-students heard me argue in Latin, they 
 were astonished. They then well perceived that I 
 belonged to a race other than theirs, and that I should 
 advance after they had come to their stand-still ' (p. s 
 187). * [M. Gosselin] perceived the honesty of my 
 nature, the purity of my morality, and the straightfor- 
 wardness of my intellect ' (p. 233). ' I owe the 
 brilliancy of my intellect, and in especial a certain 
 ableness in the art of analyzation (a capital art, one of 
 the conditions of that of writing), to the exercises, etc.' 
 (p. 246). ' I may well say that my extreme ardour for 
 the vital sciences causes me to believe that, if I had 
 steadily pursued them, I should have arrived at many 
 of the results of Darwin, which I partially perceived ' 
 (p. 263). 'I see clearly nearly the whole of that amount 
 of truth which the intellect of man, in its present state 
 of development, is capable of perceiving ' (p. 377). 
 
 The fourth section of the last division of the work is, 
 in fact, dedicated to the special exposition of four of his 
 own virtues in particular, to each of which a separate 
 disquisition is accorded, occupying twenty pages in all. 
 The four special virtues signalized are disinterestedness, 
 modesty, courtesy, and chastity.* The review of the 
 
 * For dwelling upon this last subject, or rather, upon its contradictory, 
 M. Renan appears to have a great natural taste, which he shows no shy- 
 ness in indulging. The tribute which he pays, as far as a wide knowledge 
 and experience enable him to judge, to the irreproachable morality of the 
 French clergy, will be read with profound pleasure, and to have paid it is 
 a credit to himself. But the book is sprinkled with allusions which are
 
 M. REXAN'S SOUVENIRS. 303 
 
 second contains the words (p. 353) ' Ah ! in spite of 
 everything, and if I may be forgiven pardonable faults 
 yes I have been modest.' But in beginning the 
 fifth section, he asks his reader's pardon for a fault into 
 which he may have fallen : ' The danger in such a case 
 is, by unconscious self-deception, to accuse one's self, 
 with a humility of but little value, of trivial and alto- 
 gether external faults, so as to claim great qualities by 
 implication. Ah ! what a subtle demon is that of 
 vanity ! Is it possible that, by accident, he may have 
 made me his dupe ? ' 
 
 It was not until he was at Athens in 1865 that M. 
 Renan began to consider his preceding career. Over- 
 whelmed with remorse at not having always been a 
 heathen, he sought the goddess Athene* in prayer, and 
 began to examine his conscience with a view to con- 
 fession. The account of the whole episode is intensely 
 characteristic. With his emotion at beholding Athens 
 we could sympathise more heartily, were it not for the 
 ' high-falutin' ; tone of the language employed. The 
 implicit declaration that this is a fur more interesting 
 spot than Jerusalem, we ought, we suppose, to be pre- 
 pared for. He appears to have realised that the goddess 
 Athene is to be regarded as the embodiment of the idea 
 of Wisdom an abstraction, in fact, somewhat like the 
 
 perfectly gratuitous and are the more offensive for being conveyed with a 
 kind of grin. The warnings addressed to the young against this vice are 
 termed (p. 14), ' saintes inepties,' and we are informed (p. 359), that ' je 
 reconnais, en particulier, que la nature ne tient pas du tout a ce que 
 1'homme soit chaste.' He himself claims freedom to speak, on the ground 
 that ' 1'immacule a le droit d'etre indulgent,' (p. 150), and that he has 
 always been irreproachable in this respect. It is hard for a believer to 
 contrast such a protestation and such writing without recalling, with a 
 melancholy force, those words of the Book which M. Renan has rejected : 
 ' Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.'
 
 304 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 goddess of Reason of the Revolution. A mind of deeper 
 thoughtfulness would have been led by this to 
 the contemplation of the Divine Khachmoth, and 
 recognised an instinctive feeling after the doctrine of the 
 Logos ; indeed, there is a passage which looks as if he 
 had just missed this reflection, for he parodies Christian 
 theology sufficiently to say, ' Thou that dwell est in thy 
 father, entirely united to his essence ; thou that art his 
 companion and his self-consciousness ; energy of Zeus, 
 etc., etc., etc.' He addressed a prayer to the goddess, 
 which occupies ten pages (62-72). He begins by an 
 apology for having arrived so late ; but ' I was born, O 
 goddess with blue eyes ! of barbarian parents, among 
 good and virtuous Cimmerians, etc., etc." He asks the 
 pardon for some lingering feelings of tenderness in con- 
 nection with the rites of ' the Priests of a foreign wor- 
 ship, come from the Syrians of Palestine,' who had 
 * taught me long stories about Cronos, who had created 
 the world, and about his son, who had, they said, per- 
 formed a journey upon earth.' He bewails the 
 degeneracy of the age, amid which Lord Elgin appears, 
 as ' that Caledonian, who, fifty years ago, broke thy 
 temple with hammer-strokes, to carry it off to Thule.' 
 The suppliant himself, however, has written 
 
 ' According to some of the rules thou lovest, 
 Theonoe, the life of the young god whom I served in 
 my childhood.' ' Dost thou remember the day, in the 
 archonship of Dionysodorus, when an ugly little Jew, 
 who spoke Syrian Greek, came here, passed through 
 thy courts without understanding thee, misread thine 
 inscriptions, and thought that he found within thine 
 enclosure an altar dedicated To the Unknown God ! 
 Ah ! well, that little Jew has had the best of it. For 
 a thousand years they have treated thee as if thou
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 305 
 
 hadst been an idol, Truth ! For a thousand years 
 the world has been a desert wherein no flowers sprang 
 up. During all this while thou wast silent, O Salpinx, 
 clarion of thought ! Goddess of order ! Image of the 
 permanence of the heavens ! it was made a crime to 
 love thee. . . . Thou only art young, O Cora ! 
 Thou alone art pure, O Virgin ! Thou alone art hale, 
 O Hygeia ! Thou alone art strong, Victory ! Thou 
 art the keeper of cities, O Promachos ! Thou hast all 
 that is needful of Mars, Area ! ' 
 
 And so on through a sort of Litany. ' The world 
 will only be saved by returning to thee.' He prays her 
 to preserve him from the scepticism which makes him 
 doubt the people ; from restlessness of spirit, which makes 
 him continue to search for truth, from fancifulness, which 
 prevents his feeling at rest. And he winds up 
 
 ' Thou art true, pure, perfect. Thy marble is spot- 
 less. But the temple of Hagia Sophia, which is at 
 Byzantium, also produces a divine effect with bricks and 
 plaster. It is the image of the vault of heaven. It 
 will crumble away. But if thy cella had had to be 
 large enough to contain a multitude, it would crumble 
 away too. An immeasurable wave of forgetfulness 
 bears us along into a gulf without a name. abyss, 
 there is no God but thou alone ! The tears of all the 
 people are true tears ; the dreams of all the sages con- 
 tain a portion of truth. Nothing here below is any- 
 thing but a symbol and a dream. Gods pass away like 
 men, and it would not be good if they were eternal. 
 The faith one has held ought never to be a chain. It has 
 no longer any claim upon one, when one- has carefully 
 wrapped it in the purple shroud where sleep dead gods.' 
 
 The confessions which were thus generated compose 
 the present volume. It commences with a preface 
 
 v
 
 306 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 which seems to show that the prayer for confidence in 
 the people was only imperfectly heard. The author 
 bemoans the absence of real liberty in France (xvi.), 
 and dreads the crushing effect of democracy upon the 
 development of culture and learning. The work itself 
 is then divided, in accordance with its title, into two 
 almost equal halves, of 200 pages each. The first half, 
 on his childhood, presents, as he ingeniously remarks, 
 (p. vii.), ' nothing but impressions of a feeling childhood, 
 of candour, of innocence, and of love.' Each half con- 
 tains three chapters, but they are divided into sections, 
 and the second contains twelve separate pieces. There 
 is an Appendix consisting of several original letters, in 
 addition to those contained in the text. 
 
 The first part (the Childhood) is by far the most 
 varied in contents, and much the least able, interesting, 
 and important. The first chapter is called the ' F] ax- 
 Beater' (Broyeur de lin), and consists mainly of a very 
 unwholesome narrative of very erotic passion, compli- 
 cated by mental weakness. This wretched story has 
 nothing to do with M. Kenan's own history. He 
 declares that it is true, except the names. This relieves 
 him of the discredit of having invented it, but not of 
 that of having written and published it. The second 
 chapter contains seven separate pieces. The first of 
 these is the Prayer to Athene, with its introduction. 
 The second is on certain features of the Breton race, 
 especially with regard to religion. The third gives a 
 gay and unflinching account of the weaknesses of his 
 father's brother Peter, who was ultimately found lying 
 dead at the side of a road. The fourth is upon certain 
 local reminiscences connected with the Revolution ; and 
 the fifth upon a local personage belie ved to have been 
 connected with it, but as to whom the preface mentions
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 307 
 
 that these beliefs were at least in part incorrect. The 
 sixth is founded on the fact that ' very early, the taste 
 for young girls was lively in me' (p. 11 3), and is a tribute 
 to the memory of one of them, named Noe'mi, who ex- 
 cited in him so tender a remembrance that, ' When God 
 gave me a daughter, I called her Nodmi.' The seventh 
 contains further local recollections and reflections. Of 
 these, the most interesting are the second and fourth. 
 The third chapter is upon the school to which the 
 young Renan was first sent at Paris, and which was 
 presided over by M. Dupanloup (the late Bishop of 
 Orleans), under the name of the Little Seminary of St. 
 Nicholas du Chardonnet ; but the first section of this 
 chapter (pp. 129, 158) still deals with his boyhood in 
 Brittany, and it is in this section, and the two first of 
 the ' Flaxbeater,' that most of the facts regarding it are 
 to be found. 
 
 The descriptions of the Bretons, though light, are, as 
 has been remarked, very interesting, especially as show- 
 ing the extraordinary identity of modes of thought, 
 and even of legends, existing between them and the 
 other branches of the Cymro-Celtic family. The name 
 Renan itself is a form of Ronan, so familiar to the 
 Scottish ear, though we fear a reference to St. Ronan's 
 Well (les eaux de St. Ronan) in Wales must be rele- 
 gated to the limbo of inaccuracies of which we have 
 occasionally to complain it is not a proper object for a 
 grain of salt, as it seems to be evidently serious. He 
 believes himself to be sprung ' of the clan of the Ronans, 
 a fine race who came from Cardigan, under the leader- 
 ship of Fragan, about the year 480. They lived 
 obscurely for thirteen centuries, piling up a treasure of 
 thought and feeling, the accumulated capital of which 
 has devolved upon me ' (p. 90).
 
 308 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 It is to be regretted that the account of the scenes 
 of his childhood seem to call, in an especial manner, for 
 the application of salt, for it is difficult to believe, for 
 example, that nature had endowed the juvenile popula- 
 tion with such liveliness of imagination, that when they 
 were blind-folded on Maundy Thursday, they thought 
 they saw bells flying through the air (pp. 8, 9), or 
 that his father's recovery from fever was sought 
 by setting up a smith's forge in a church, and threaten- 
 ing to shoe the wooden image of the saint invoked 
 (p. 86). 
 
 The young Renan was brought up under clerical 
 masters, whose personal character inspired and inspires 
 him with the highest esteem. Their strongest point 
 seems to have been mathematics, for which he devel- 
 oped a strong predilection, although a grain of salt may 
 perhaps be applicable when we learn that he so differed 
 from the generality of pupils as to continue discussions 
 on mathematical science after school-hours, and to 
 chalk up diagrams and sums upon the doors (p. 17). 
 
 His native place, Treguier, was a little town which 
 had been the site of an Episcopal See before the 
 Revolution, and which preserved in a corpse-like form, 
 a good many of the features by which cathedral towns 
 are characterized. The clergy appear to have enjoyed 
 an almost exclusive monopoly both of intellectual cul- 
 ture and of social superiority. It is not difficult to per- 
 ceive in this circumstance the explanation of the other- 
 wise inexplicable fact, that a man of M. Kenan's natural 
 disposition ever came to be intended, or to intend him- 
 self, to take Holy Orders. In contemplation of such a 
 society, Ernest Renan, with his opinions of his own 
 capacity, grew up without the idea that he could be 
 anything else but a priest. Whether the Supreme
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 309 
 
 Being called him to be thus His peculiar servant ; 
 whether his heart was fitted for the constant and almost 
 exclusive association with holy things ; whether he was 
 himself likely to be found a suitable minister of the 
 Word and Sacraments no such ideas as these ever 
 crossed his brain. ' This thought was not the result of 
 reflection, impulse, or reason. It came, as it were, 
 without speaking. The possibility of a worldly career 
 never entered my mind ' (p. 1 40). ' Thus/ he says 
 (pp. 156, 157), 'everything destined me for a modest 
 ecclesiastical career in Brittany. I should have been a 
 very good priest indulgent, fatherly, charitable, irre- 
 proachable in morals. I should have been as a priest 
 what I have been as the father of a family, deeply 
 beloved by my flock, as little troublesome as possible in 
 the exercise of my authority.' But at this time the 
 Abbe Dupanloup was presiding over the Petit S6min- 
 aire de St Nicholas du Chardonriet, where he associated 
 in a course of studies mostly classical a number of lay 
 boys of opulent family with a class of others, destined 
 for the Church, and in whom his main desire was to 
 obtain talent. Thither, on account of his intellectual 
 abilities, was Ernest Renan sent. The new atmosphere 
 was extremely uncongenial to him. As, however, we 
 shall have occasion to notice farther on his view of M. 
 Dupanloup, we need only here add that, after a time, 
 he passed on to the most celebrated establishment for 
 ecclesiastical education which exists in France St. 
 Sulpice. 
 
 Down to a comparatively late period, ecclesiastics 
 were trained in houses attached to the episcopal resi- 
 dence, or in the public schools. We do not, of course, 
 speak of those who were members of religious com- 
 munities, but of the secular clergy. The system re-
 
 310 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 ferred to was open to grave inconvenience. It was 
 found that young men often entered the ecclesiastical 
 state without sufficient preparatory training in doctrine 
 and morals. It was to remedy this defect that St. 
 Sulpice was founded, in accordance with the regulations 
 of the Council of Trent. The founder of the congrega- 
 tion of St. Sulpice was Jean-Jacques Olier, who was 
 born at Paris in 1608. M. Renan truly describes him 
 as a man of great virtue, although he naturally con- 
 siders that his doctrine and practice savoured too much 
 of mysticism and severity. He remarks that the name 
 of Olier has not become very widely known, 'for renown 
 seldom goes to seek those who shun glory, and whose 
 predominant characteristic is modesty ' (p. 200). The 
 same may be said of his followers. ' The rule of the 
 Sulpicians is to publish nothing, unless under an anony- 
 mous veil' (p. 218). This remark is not absolutely 
 correct, but it shows the spirit of St. Sulpice. The 
 Sulpicians have the direction of a considerable number 
 of seminaries in France, and of a few in Canada and in 
 the United States. Although not bound by monastic 
 vows, they live in community, and lead most self- 
 denying lives. 
 
 It was to their house at Issy, and, subsequently, to 
 the head house of the Congregation in Paris, that M. 
 Renan went on leaving St. Nicholas du Chardonnet. 
 We unite the two periods, because, as M. Renan himself 
 remarks, the two houses form but one whole. This is 
 the most interesting part of his career. It was here 
 that he lost his faith, and yet, from his surroundings, 
 one would have expected a different result. There is 
 perhaps no more pleasing feature of his book than the 
 manner in which, as a rule, he speaks of his former 
 directors, the designation by which the professors at St.
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 311 
 
 Sulpice are known, He describes them as men of 
 ability and learning, ' with virtue sufficient to govern a 
 world' (p. 221). 
 
 In treating of St. Sulpice there are two things which 
 naturally have to be considered the discipline and the 
 nature of the intellectual and moral training. In edu- 
 cational establishments on the Continent, the system of 
 discipline is different from what we are accustomed to at 
 home. It is more strict, and generally accompanied by 
 a system of ' espionage ' much objected to in this 
 country. At St. Sulpice discipline is strict, but en- 
 forced by moral means alone. M. Renan says (p. 228), 
 1 The relations of the directors of St. Sulpice with the 
 students are of an open and staid character. Assur- 
 edly, there is not in the world an establishment in 
 which the students are more free.' He makes a similar 
 statement, although, of course, not to the same extent, 
 about St. Nicholas du Chardonnet. He adds (pp. 228- 
 9), ' The routine of the house is supposed to go on of 
 itself. The directors lead exactly the same lives as the 
 students, and interfere with them as little as possible. 
 What he says of St. Nicholas (p. 179), is, a fortiori, 
 true of St. Sulpice : ' There is no punishment in the 
 house.' Unless in cases of serious misdemeanour, there 
 is no expulsion properly so called. When either 
 through want of talent, or for other reasons, a student 
 is unfit for the ecclesiastical state, he is quietly taken 
 aside and told : ' You are a good young man, but your 
 particular gifts do not suit us; let us part good friends' 
 (p. 183). 
 
 Of the intellectual and moral condition of St. Sulpice, 
 M. Renan says (p. 221), ' In our time, St. Sulpice has, 
 as a theologian, M. Carriers, whose immense work is, 
 on certain points remarkably profound ; as men of
 
 312 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 erudition, M. Gosselin and M. Faillon, who have given 
 us researches so painstaking ; as philologists, M. 
 Gamier, and, above all, M. Le Hir, the only eminent 
 masters the Catholic school has produced in the field of 
 sacred criticism.' But he remarks that these pious 
 educators do riot wish to be praised for their learning r 
 and adds, ' St. Sulpice is above all a school of virtue.' 
 
 ' M. Gamier was a learned orientalist, and unequalled 
 in France in Biblical exegesis, as it was taught amongst 
 Catholics an hundred years ago. His Sulpician 
 modesty would not allow him to give anything to the 
 public. The result of his studies was an immense work 
 in manuscript, representing a complete course of Holy 
 Scripture according to the ideas prevalent among 
 Catholics and Protestants at the end of the eighteenth 
 
 o 
 
 century. . . . His erudition was profound, and his 
 linguistic knowledge very solid. . . . His glory is 
 to have formed M. Le Hir, who, falling heir to his vast 
 knowledge, united it to that of modern works ' (pp, 
 269-70.' 
 
 Of M. Le Hir he says : 
 
 ' M. Le Hir was a learned man and a saint ; he was 
 both in an eminent degree. . . . The superiority 
 of M. Le Hir consisted chiefly in his profound know- 
 ledge of exegesis, and of German theology. 
 In grammar ... he had no superior. To his 
 immense knowledge, M. Le Hir united a solid style of 
 writing. He would have been witty, had he cared to 
 develop that talent ' (pp. et seqq). 
 
 It was under these men of learning and virtue, whom 
 we have described in his own words, that M. Renan 
 studied. It is owing to his modesty, perhaps, that we 
 know little of his progress in virtue during his residence 
 at St. Sulpice. The style of piety there does not seem
 
 M. KENANS SOUVENIRS. 313 
 
 to have suited his taste. We have no prayer offered 
 to God, like that which, later, he offered to Athene. 
 But he applied himself to study, with considerable 
 success. At Issy, he says (p. 222), 'I found myself, as 
 it were, in my element. Whilst the majority of my 
 fellow-students, weakened by the somewhat insipid 
 humanism of M. Dupanloup, could not take to Scholas- 
 ticism ; at the very outset, I had a wonderful liking for 
 its bitter flavour. I loved it as a monkey does its nut/ 
 He seems to have considered himself the observed of 
 all observers. ' M. Gottofrey,'* he says (p. 259), 
 ' watched me closely with great curiosity. My argu- 
 ments in Latin, given with firmness and emphasis, 
 surprised and disturbed him. Sometimes I reasoned 
 too well ; at other times, I pointed out the weakness of 
 reasons that were considered solid.' In similar passages 
 throughout the work, M. Renan points out the esteem, 
 and even sort of dread, in which he was held. We fear 
 that he has over-estimated his own importance at Issy 
 and St. Sulpice. The truth is that, with the exception 
 of certain eccentricities of manner, he there created no 
 surprise. It was known that he had good parts, and, 
 for a student, a good, even a remarkable knowledge of 
 Hebrew voilcl tout. 
 
 His favourite study in the seminary at Paris was 
 philology. The book before us shows that his know- 
 ledge of theology is very shallow. He admits this him- 
 self, when he says (p. 288), ' Whatever learning I may 
 have, I owe to M. Le Hir. I even sometimes think 
 that I know nothing well but what he taught me.' The 
 opinion of a professor, or of a theological writer, seems 
 
 * M. Gottofrey, M. Renan tell us, was the first to perceive that his faith 
 was gone. He describes to us the terror he felt when M. Gottofrey, in a 
 tone of excitement, said to him, ' Yon are not a Christian ' (p. 260).
 
 314 M. REXAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 to have been for him a dogma of the Catholic Church. 
 Hence, as we shall see later on, he fails to understand 
 the distinction between what is de fide, and what is 
 merely current theological opinion. 
 
 After passing two years at Issy and two in Paris, it 
 was seen and he was now himself conscious of the 
 fact that the attitude of his mind towards revelation 
 was such as to render it impossible for him to remain 
 any longer an ecclesiastical student. Before leaving St. 
 Sulpice, he had an interview with M. Dupanloup. In 
 other parts of his work, he speaks of this distinguished 
 ecclesiastic in terms of dispraise, the motives of which 
 we cannot understand. But here he has done him full 
 justice. Speaking of this interview, he says (p. 323), 
 ' I found in M. Dupanloup that high and warm 
 appreciation of things of the soul which constituted his 
 superiority. . . . What a great, good, and noble 
 heart ! I have before me a note signed with his own 
 hand : " Do you need money ? It is natural you should, 
 in your position. My small purse is at your disposal. 
 I wish I could offer you something more precious. . . . 
 My offer, I trust, simple as it is, will cause you no 
 pain." . . . Thus I descended the steps of St. 
 Sulpice, never more to ascend them in a cassock, on the 
 6th Oct., 1845' (p. 324). 
 
 During the vacation of 1845, he ceased to receive the 
 Sacraments, and re-entered St. Sulpice in September 
 only to say farewell. The rest of his career, as regards 
 belief in revelation, was short. He formed a friend- 
 ship with M. Berthelot. ' When our intimacy began, 
 I still had a tender attachment for Christianity. 
 Berthelot also still retained from his father some re- 
 mains of Christian belief. A few months were enough 
 to consign these relics of faith to that region of the
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 315 
 
 mind which is devoted to memories of the past.' (p. 
 337). 
 
 Before leaving this part of the subject, we cannot 
 help referring to a peculiarity of M. Kenan's character, 
 as revealed in his book his likes and dislikes. We 
 have already seen the terms of respect in which he 
 speaks of the directors of St. Sulpice, especially of those 
 with whom he came more immediately into contact, and 
 who devoted themselves to studies which were con- 
 genial to his tastes. There is one exception to this 
 rule, M. Pinault, who was professor of Natural Philo- 
 sophy at Issy. To him he does but scant justice. 
 This is the more remarkable, as no professor ever en- 
 deared himself to his pupils more than M. Pinault ; 
 and there are few names more worthy of respect. M. 
 Pinault's dress and general appearance are correctly 
 and graphically described by M. Renan. He puts 
 before us his huge, padded skull-cap, which covered 
 nearly the whole head ; his body twisted into strange 
 shapes by rheumatism ; and his utter neglect of 
 personal appearance. There is, however, one feature 
 he has overlooked his bright, piercing eyes, which 
 seemed to read the inmost recesses of the soul, and 
 which made us forget the distortion of his body. He 
 was ' eloquent, impassioned, strange, ironical at times, 
 witty, incisive ' (p. 237). Before entering St. Sulpice, 
 M. Pinault had been a distinguished student of the 
 Ecole Poly technique, and afterwards professor of the 
 University. He was an able mathematician, and well 
 versed in the physical sciences. ' He (M. Pinault) was 
 a saint,' says M. Renan (p. 237). This was certainly 
 the only excellence to which he aspired. He had fre- 
 quently on his lips the expression ' Le rien de toutes 
 choses/ which may be paraphrased ' All is vanity ; '
 
 316 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 but its difficult to see how M. Renan can reconcile his 
 virtue with what he says of him later (p. 241), ' He did 
 not conceal his contempt for the sciences which he 
 taught, and for the human intellect in general. Some- 
 times he almost went to sleep during his classes. He 
 entirely discouraged his adepts from study.' No doubt 
 M. Pinault was thoroughly impressed with the idea 
 that all worldly things are vain as compared with 
 spiritual things. But his piety, instead of interfering 
 with his teaching, made him more conscientious, and, 
 consequently, more painstaking. His desire of making 
 himself useful, and his devotion to duty, were such that 
 it was only when utterly disabled by bodily weakness 
 that he consented to give up his classes. M. Renan 
 represents him as sharing with ' Pere ' Hanique, the 
 porter at Issy, the honours of mysticism, and as being 
 the leader of the mystics at Issy. ' This was a separate 
 coterie, a kind of school from which the profane were 
 excluded. . . . All this made a serious division in 
 the house. The mystics lived in a state of tension so 
 extraordinary, that some of them died ' (p. 240). 
 Mysticism is differently understood by different per- 
 sons. There is a true and a false mysticism, the one 
 leading to the most exalted virtue, the other to super- 
 stition. If by mysticism is meant true, genuine piety, 
 and a playful disposition, which renders its possessor 
 happy, and communicates his happiness to others, then 
 M. Pinault was a mystic. He was the life of the house, 
 a general favourite, and not the centre of a coterie. He 
 was generally known by the name of ' le bon, le cher, 
 Pere Pinault.' 
 
 We knew M. Pinault ; but to make sure we have 
 consulted two of his old pupils, who were at Issy about 
 the time M. Renan was there. They both emphatically
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 317 
 
 deny the charges made against M. Pinault. One of 
 them writes : 
 
 ' I was at Issy all the time that M. Renan was there, 
 and assisted at all the classes at which he was present, 
 and never once saw Pere Pinault half-asleep when 
 lecturing. On the contrary, he showed much zeal for 
 their (the students') scientific progress ; often said in 
 my presence, that scientific knowledge would be of 
 much use to them in the world ; often mentioned with 
 admiration and approval the ardour with which he wit- 
 nessed such studies prosecuted in Government Schools 
 when he was professor there. . . . He was in con- 
 stant correspondence with the most renowned physicists 
 of France, . . Ampere especially. He was never 
 tired of speaking of Laplace, whom he knew, and whose 
 genius he much admired. I often entered his room, 
 
 O ' 
 
 where I found him engaged in reading the " Mechaui- 
 que Celeste," When P. Pinault entered the congrega- 
 tion of St. Sulpice, he was a young man, but had 
 been previously a professor in the Ecole Normale, and I 
 think, but am not sure, in the Ecole Polytechnique as 
 well. ... P. Pinault never originated a coterie of 
 mystics. M. Olier's spiritual works were much read 
 and admired in all the Sulpician houses. They incul- 
 cate very exalted views of sacerdotal perfection. M. 
 Pinault was a warm admirer of these works 
 In acting as he did [he] was not singular ; the other 
 directors acted in a similar manner ; and such was the 
 way since the foundation of the Seminary of St. Sulpice. 
 That high spirituality . . M. Renan could neither 
 understand nor appreciate. It has been the distinctive 
 character of St. Sulpice and its branch houses, and 
 forms what is justly called " I' esprit de maison." That 
 exalted spirituality has been productive of many saints
 
 318 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 and holy priests. I lived for five years at St. Sulpice, 
 but never knew a single student to die of mysticism. 
 . . . There was no division among the inmates of 
 the seminary.' 
 
 The other gentleman corroborates the foregoing, and 
 adds : ' Je mentais assez souvent a la bonne heure ; 
 but why does he make Pere Pinault the corpus vile to 
 try his experiments on him ? ' * 
 
 The following incident is of value as showing the 
 character of M. Pinault, and the manner in which 
 reproof is given at St. Sulpice. M. Renan was reading, 
 when he should have been at recreation with his fellow- 
 students. M. Pinault came up to him and said (p. 242), 
 ' ! the dear little treasure ! . . . He will always be 
 the same. . . . He will study, study on unceasingly ; 
 but when the care of poor souls demands his attention, 
 he will be still at his studies.' ... I was moved, but 
 not convinced.' Fearing he had hurt his feelings, M. 
 Pinault took him by the hand, and said in a tone of 
 playful irony : ' You will be a little Gosselin,' and 
 allowed him to go on with his reading. 
 
 Besides the mystics, real or supposed, there is another 
 class of men to whom M. Renan frequently takes an 
 opportunity of showing his dislike the modern school 
 of Christian apologists. No one who has read his book 
 can fail to be surprised at his treatment, we mean his 
 disparagement, of M. Dupanloup, and of the other lead- 
 ing representatives of this school. He says (p. 166), 
 that M. Dupanloup 
 
 * The gentlemen who kindly supplied us with the above information 
 knew M. Pinault better than M. Renan did. They were often in his 
 company, and assisted him with his experiments. We may add that both 
 of them have largely profited by the advice really given by M. Pinault 
 as to the study of the sciences ; and neither of them is a mystic in the 
 sense of M. Renan.
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 319 
 
 ' Neither possessed the brilliant imagination of 
 Lacordaire and of Montalembert, which secures for 
 some of their works a durable value, rior the deep 
 passion of de Lammenais.' ' The theological 
 
 studies of these men (Archbishop du Quelen and M. 
 Dupanloup) had been very shallow' (p. 166). * They 
 (the Sulpicians) had no sympathy with the dreamy 
 theology of Lacordaire and Montalembert. The ignor- 
 ance, as regards doctrine, and the extreme weakness of 
 this school in logic, shocked them ' (p. 214). ' St. Sul- 
 pice is an excellent school for style, for the leading rule 
 for style is to have solely in view the thought that one 
 wishes to express, and consequently to have a thought. 
 This was better than the shallow rhetorical flourishes of 
 M. Dupanloup, and the high-sounding platitudes of the 
 neo-Catholic school ' (p. 220). 
 
 The above extracts show the opinion M. Renan has 
 of some of the most illustrious names of modern France. 
 He more than insinuates that his views in these respects 
 were shared by the directors of St. Sulpice. No doubt, 
 the style and method of M. Dupanloup, and of the 
 others he mentions, were different from those of St. 
 Sulpice ; but their aims were different. M. Renan 
 seems to forget that, in the Christian system, there are 
 diversities of gifts as well as of graces. The style of 
 language suitable for St. Sulpice would by no means 
 be so well adapted for addressing men living in the 
 world, whose training and education are so different. 
 But their faith was really the same, although M. Renan 
 appears to doubt it, and their ultimate object was the 
 same. The Sulpicians were too wise not to appreciate 
 the labours of others, because their methods were 
 necessarily different from their own. And we know 
 that they welcomed them as brothers in arms, fighting
 
 320 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 against the same enemies, the infidelity and immorality 
 SD prevalent in France. Indeed, we are not sure but 
 that here M. Renan shows his usual inconsistency. In 
 several passages, he seems to blame the Sulpicians for 
 their contempt of literature, the use of which he con- 
 demns in others. 
 
 But he has other charges against St. Sulpice, which 
 a.re more serious. They discourage talent (p. 215). 
 They encourage mediocrity (p. 218). If one has a 
 desire for study, he may indulge his bent ; if not, he 
 may do nothing (p. 229). The examinations are almost 
 nil (p. 229). All this, no doubt, is a tribute to their 
 modesty, but at the expense of their intelligence, and, 
 we may add, at the expense of truth. One of their 
 maxims, as regards ecclesiastics, is ' Piety, by itself, 
 is little ; learning, by itself, nothing ; both combined, 
 perfection.' And yet, understanding, as they do, the 
 importance of having a learned priesthood, they allow 
 young men to go out to the world without any 
 guarantee that they have even the amount of know- 
 ledge absolutely necessary. So says M. Renan, at least 
 by implication. But nothing can be farther from the 
 truth. The students are free, no doubt ; but not to 
 such an extent as to exclude supervision. The directors 
 are constantly with the students, and it is impossible 
 they can be ignorant of their dispositions, and of the 
 progress they make in their studies. There are, 
 besides, the half-yearly examinations, which are much 
 the same as other examinations at home and abroad ; 
 and a searching examination is made before one is 
 admitted to Orders. 
 
 In contemplating the process by which M. Renan has 
 reached his present position, it is well that a Protestant 
 should not forget the difference of the starting-points
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 321 
 
 from which he and M. Renan must respectively ap- 
 proach the critical study of the Bible. Protestantism 
 says : ' The Bible says so-and-so, and therefore you 
 are to believe it.' And the question immediately arises, 
 ' Why am I to believe the Bible ? ' Catholicism says : 
 ' The Church teaches you this and that, and, therefore, 
 you are to believe it ; and, in particular, she teaches 
 you so-and-so regarding the Bible, and, therefore, you 
 are to believe that.' And the questions immediately 
 arise, ' Why am I to believe the Church ? ' In a case 
 such as M. Kenan's, the second part of this last query 
 might have been expected to arise first. With many, 
 the few points which are the subject of dogmatic defini- 
 tion would have been accepted as data, like other 
 data, in the pursuit of Biblical study, and all would 
 have ended there. If a question were to arise regard- 
 ing the truth of these defined points, there would then 
 arise, in limine, two questions, in themselves of an 
 extent and complication with which few men could 
 really hold themselves able to grapple, viz. ' Are 
 the words which puzzle me really part of the sacred 
 text by which I am to be bound ? and, if they are so, 
 do I, personally, really know what they mean ? " And 
 there would at least have been a most profound and 
 anxious study before the results independently arrived 
 at were so clearly at variance with the Church's teach- 
 as to necessitate an investigation into her claims to 
 teach, with the view of either bowing the judgment to 
 her authority, or of rejecting that authority altogether. 
 It would hardly appear that the question of the Church's 
 teaching-power ever occurred to M. Renan at all, 
 though it is difficult to conceive how he can have been 
 brought up as he was without being penetrated by a 
 sense of her infallibility to such a degree as to require 
 
 w
 
 322 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 a kind of intellectual revolution before discarding it. 
 But there is no trace of any such revolution, or of the 
 attitude of mind which would render such a revolution 
 necessary. The idea is even repudiated. ' In this 
 great struggle between my reason and my beliefs,' he 
 says (pp. 297-98), 
 
 ' I carefully avoided any argument touching abstract 
 philosophy. The method of the physical and natural 
 sciences, which had appeared to me at Issy to be the 
 law of truth, made me hold myself jealously aloof from 
 any system. I never felt a moment's hesitation over 
 such dogmata as the Trinity and the Incarnation, 
 viewed in themselves. . . . Nothing which might 
 be the subject of criticism in the politics or spirit of the 
 Church, either in the past or the present, made the 
 least impression upon me. . . . My reasons were 
 all of the philological and critical kind ; they had 
 nothing whatever to do with metaphysics, with politics, 
 or with morals. These orders of ideas seem to me 
 hardly palpable, and capable of almost any explanation. 
 But the question as to whether there are contradictions 
 between the fourth Gospel and the Synoptics, is one 
 whereof one can get a firm grip. I see these contradic- 
 tions with such absolute certainty, that I would stake 
 my life, and, consequently, my eternal salvation, upon 
 the fact of their existence, without one moment's hesi- 
 tation.' 
 
 In fact, the order of reasoning seems to have been 
 something like this : (a) I am such a great man that 
 not only my judgments but my impressions are necess- 
 arily true ; (6) I think such and such things about the 
 Bible ; therefore, the fact must be so ; (c) but I have 
 an impression that the Church says something else ; 
 therefore, she must be wrong, and her claims to infalli-
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 323 
 
 bility go by the board ; but (d) I have an impression 
 that she is the only possible form of Theism, therefore, 
 Theism must be false. The postulates a and 6 it is un- 
 necessary to discuss. Indeed, they scarcely admit of 
 discussion. The treatment of c and d is very peculiar. 
 He does not seem to have ever cared to enquire what 
 are the limits of Catholic Orthodoxy as regards the 
 subiect of Biblical criticism. Even if it be admitted 
 
 V 
 
 (and here we are not called upon to discuss the ques- 
 tion), that these limits are transcended by the preposi- 
 tion that there are contradictions between John and 
 the Synoptics, or, (p. 294), that the sacred text contains 
 formal errors in matters other than those of faith or 
 morals, it does not make it less phenomenal that he 
 actually propounds (p. 293), the following positions as 
 being of those, by affirming any one of which, the 
 affirmer ceases ipso facto to be a Catholic. (l.) The 
 book of Isaiah is by two authors. (2.) The book of 
 Daniel was composed circa B.C. 169, 170. (3.) The 
 book of Judith is not historical in the strict sense.* 
 (4.) The Pentateuch, as we have it, is not the work of 
 Moses ; and (5) some parts of Genesis, such as the 
 Garden of Eden, the Forbidden Fruit, and Noah's Ark, 
 are mythic, t The remark on these is even more 
 astonishing, viz., What becomes of Bossuet's argument 
 as to Cyrus, or of the LXX weeks ? As if Christianity 
 taught as an essential dogma that Bossuet was in- 
 fallible, or as if the prophecy of the weeks would be less 
 
 * At least as far as this work goes, M. Kenan indicates no knowledge of 
 a line having ever been drawn between the Deutero-canonical books and 
 the others. 
 
 t ' This is not, as might be supposed, a misprint for mystic. But the 
 authorized English translation actually so represents it.' (Recollections of 
 my Youth, p. 256, line 18).
 
 324 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 striking if it were written down 170 instead of 460 
 years before its fulfilment. As a farther specimen of 
 accuracy, on page 294 we read : ' Orthodoxy obliges 
 the belief that the books of Scripture are the work of 
 those to whom the titles attribute them/ It is difficult 
 to understand even what this means Hebrews ? 
 Joshua ? Ruth ? Ecclesiastes ? That such a statement 
 could have been ventured, supposes a strange state of 
 information to be assumed in the mind of the public to 
 whom it is addressed. And this : ' The Christian 
 dogma, like everything else, has developed itself slowly, 
 little by little, by a sort of inner power of vegetation. 
 Theology, by pretending the contrary, raises against 
 itself mountains of objections, and is obliged to reject 
 all criticism ' (pp. 283-84). Is it conceivable that M. 
 Renan has never heard of Newman's Essay on Doctrinal 
 Development ? 
 
 If, however, Catholicism were to be abandoned, there 
 remained Protestantism. It is quite true that the same 
 arguments which had rendered Catholicism impossible, 
 would have closed to him many forms of Protestant 
 thought ; but the Liberal school of French Presby- 
 terianism, and some other forms of Continental Pro- 
 testantism, certainly would have survived them. Not 
 so. The whole volume before us contains perhaps noth- 
 ing more extraordinary than the words (p. 311), ' I was 
 a Protestant for about two months.' This has at any 
 rate the advantage of such perfect clearness as to enable 
 the reader to guage at a glance the character and 
 weight of a writer who professes to have disposed in 
 two months of the whole Protestant fabric of Christian 
 belief. That he did not belong to the school of thought 
 which holds that if the belief in the Church's infallibility 
 goes, all belief in revelation must go with it, is evident
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 325 
 
 from the very fact of the two months. After this, 
 it is not perhaps necessary to proceed any farther. 
 Neither Catholicism nor Protestantism exhausts Chris- 
 tianity ; nor do the three religions which agree in 
 accepting the Divine mission of Moses Judaism, Chris- 
 tianity, and Islam exhaust Theism. 
 
 But there is another aspect in which a career like M. 
 Kenan's must necessarily be regarded. These changes 
 are matters which affect the heart at least as much as 
 the head, the soul and conscience as well as the intel- 
 lect. It is here that there is an almost absolute blank. 
 The shield of faith, in the world of the soul lies in three 
 things. They are experience, the will, and praver. 
 The first of these is a personal Christian experience, 
 which draws nearer to sight than to faith, and renders 
 all external arguments unnecessary. ' I know,' says 
 St. Paul, ' Whom I have believed.' There is but one 
 passage in this book in which this thing seems to be 
 even alluded to, and it is there described as a pheno- 
 menon by one who does not even understand what it 
 means, as though a man were, by force of correct ear, 
 to give a just interpretation of the sound of a strange 
 language which he does not know. Speaking of the 
 servant of God, M. Le Hir, M. Kenan says : 
 
 ' There was nothing wanting in him except what 
 would have made him cease to be a Catholic, namely, 
 the critical faculty. But no, I express myself wrongly, 
 He possessed and used the critical faculty in an eminent 
 degree in everything which does not touch faith ; but 
 faith had for him something which was equal to cer- 
 tainty, and which nothing could outweigh. His piety 
 was like the pearls spoken of by Francois de Sales, 
 " which live in the sea without absorbing a drop of salt 
 water." His knowledge of error was that of a thing
 
 326 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 
 
 looked at from without ; an impenetrable shield pre- 
 vented any drop of modern ideas from oozing into the 
 reserved sanctuary of his heart ; there, all beside the 
 petroleum, there burnt a little lamp of gentle piety, a 
 lamp which never went out, and never ceased to reign 
 utterly supreme. As I, for my part, had my mind un- 
 provided with any impenetrable shields of the above 
 character, the conjunction of contrary elements, which, 
 in M. Le Hir, produced deep inner peace, ended in me 
 in startling explosions' (pp. 276, 7). 
 
 The will, while recognising the duty of relinquishing 
 the ecclesiastical state, for which he was by nature so 
 obviously unfitted, might have gone far to compel 
 internal silence, even without the reawakening of the 
 danger by its mention in prayer. But there was either 
 no will, or it failed so far. As for prayer, there is not 
 a word of such a thing, except a few graceful phrases in 
 those original letters, which, as we are reminded on 
 p. 363, were written during that period of his life when 
 ' I lied often enough, not from interest, but from good- 
 ness and condescension, under the mistaken idea which 
 inclines me always to put things to everyone in the 
 way in which he can understand them.' * 
 
 When all was done and ended, there might at least 
 
 o 
 
 have remained the beneficence of silence. Granted that 
 Theism is a delusion, why seek to destroy the delusion, 
 which ennobles so many lives, which alone brightens 
 
 * His opinion of prayer, as well as the taste with which he expresses it, 
 may be read on p. 20. ' All the afternoon the cathedral was full of 
 a nasal murmuring. This was the praying of the idiot Brian, which 
 was certainly quite as good as any other.' (Probably it was, before the 
 Searcher of hearts but that is a meaning above M. Renan's reach). 
 ' People had enough good taste and good sense to let him be, and not to 
 set up frivolous distinctions between the simple and the humble, who 
 came to kneel before God.'
 
 M. KENAN'S SOUVENIRS. 327 
 
 and renders bearable so many sorrows, and alone blunts 
 the natural sting of any death ? Truthfulness here has 
 no longer a voice, for with the disappearance of Him of 
 one of Whose Absolute Perfections truthfulness is an 
 imperfect worship, truth ceases to be anything but a 
 social convenience, and loses all moral obligation. The 
 only answer to the question must be found in M. 
 Kenan's estimate of himself; as atheism is one of his 
 attributes, morality, etc., demands imitation. 
 
 ' At bottom,' says M. Renan, p. 73, ' when I consider 
 myself, I have changed very little.' This would appear 
 to be a just conclusion on his part. He seems to be 
 very much what nature made him from the beginning ; 
 how far he may have been morally responsible for 
 yielding to his proclivities is a question not to be dis- 
 cussed here. The present book certainly conveys a 
 lower idea of its author than any of his other works, 
 except, perhaps, the Vie de Jesus. But it is at least in 
 its eighth edition, and must certainly, therefore, appeal 
 to a wide circle of French readers. It is stated to have 
 affected many minds. This, we venture to think, can 
 only be owing to the extraordinary difference between 
 the minds of Frenchmen and those of other people ; and 
 these Souvenirs and their success must, therefore, be 
 regarded as a phenomenon whose interest is ethnical, 
 rather than psychical. It was from this point of view 
 that we began these pages, and in the same spirit we 
 end them by a quotation, which M. Renan himself uses 
 of his book 
 
 ' Claudite jam rivos, pueri ; sat prata biberunt.' 
 
 Satis.
 
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 I
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 play-bills of the Bayreuth Festival* were printed 
 with black borders, out of respect to the memory 
 of the Royal Patron, under whose protection the per- 
 formances had been originally announced to take place, 
 whose refined taste so deeply appreciated the music of 
 Wagner, and who found in its conceptions a relief 
 under the malady which has since hurried him so 
 terribly into the grave. The garden of the house in 
 Bayreuth presented by him to the Master now holds 
 the Master's tomb. The body of Liszt sleeps beside 
 that of John Paul Richter under an heap of withering 
 wreaths in the midst of the wilderness of flowers which 
 forms the Bayreuth Cemetery. But at the scene of 
 representations so grave and thoughtful as those of the 
 Wagner Theatre, these elements of gloom seem less a 
 reminder of the Vita brevis than of the Ars longa. 
 The work gloriously survives its maker. While yet in 
 his own hands it was in itself an even more striking 
 testimony to the comparative immortality of the 
 creations of Art as compared with the fleeting bodily 
 vitality of those in whom they spring. The great 
 Arthurian cycle, originally developed by the Cymric 
 Celts in the form of historical legend and heroic myth, 
 based upon their struggles against the Saxon and 
 English invaders of Britain, has lived to conquer the 
 
 * 1886. 
 
 329
 
 330 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 Teutons themselves, and inspires the genius alike of 
 Tennyson and of Wagner. Nor is it the less interest- 
 ing to the Scotch reader that the romance of Gottfried 
 von Strasburg who gave to the episode of Tristrem its 
 chief German form, cites the author of our own Sir 
 Tristrem, generally believed to be Thomas the Rhymer, 
 under the name of Thomas von Britanie an appellation 
 which shows that, whatever may now be the theories of 
 some writers upon Scotch ethnology, the inhabitants of 
 Bernicia were recognised, by the Germans of the 
 Thirteenth Century, as being Cymric. 
 
 Bayreuth, which has the good fortune to be the 
 scene of the Festival, is a small uninteresting country 
 town. The surrounding views, with the exception of 
 some favoured spots, such as the grounds of the 
 Fantaisie Villa, and the occasional beautiful effects of 
 colour over the fields, the low hills and the fir-woods, 
 are rather below the average of Bavarian landscape. 
 The place itself conveys an impression of having at 
 some time possessed a greater prosperity than at 
 present. Among other features, it possesses a quarter 
 which still bears at least the name of a Jewry. The 
 earliest houses seem to be of the end of the Fifteenth 
 or beginning of the Sixteenth Century, and there is a 
 large plain Gothic Church with two towers surmounted 
 by bulbous spires and joined by a singular aerial bridge, 
 of the same period. From this date onwards there are 
 buildings of different epochs and of various pretensions, 
 up to the earlier part of last Century, when the town 
 would seem to have reached its zenith of prosperity. 
 There are a few large modern erections, and near the 
 outskirts the extensive garden and unpretentious house 
 given to Wagner by the late King. 
 
 The Wagner Theatre itself is outside the town, and
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 331 
 
 stands on a rising ground in the midst of a park of its 
 own, which is already very pretty, and will in time be 
 beautiful. The Theatre is the only building in it, with 
 the exception of two eating-houses, one larger than the 
 other, to meet the absolute needs of the public. With- 
 out reckoning those who may be in the boxes or gallery, 
 who are comparatively few, the thirteen hundred and 
 more persons who are seated in the body of the Theatre 
 were required to be in their places by four o'clock when 
 the drama began. In the case of Tristan und Isolde, 
 the First Act lasted only an hour and a half, but in the 
 case of Parsifal, two hours. A pause then took place 
 until half-past six. There was afterwards another 
 pause, from about a quarter to eight till half-past. 
 The whole ended towards ten o'clock. During one or 
 other of the two pauses the spectators had time to eat 
 an hasty meal, and were warned that the representation 
 was about to be resumed, as it was originally heralded, 
 by blasts of trumpets from the front of the Theatre, 
 suggesting in their theme the music of the Opera which 
 was in performance. 
 
 The Theatre is a plain building, not ugly, mostly of 
 an half-timber construction. There is hardly any 
 attempt at decoration within or without, the whole aim 
 being simply practical. Internally, 1345 seats are ar- 
 ranged in a gradation of 30 slightly semi-circular rows, 
 which rise rather steeply one above another, like the seats 
 of a classical theatre, and are so placed that every one 
 of them commands a view of the stage almost equally 
 good. For the still greater convenience of the spec- 
 tators, however, women as well as men were asked to 
 take off their hats and bonnets. Behind the seats, at 
 the end of the whole house, is a single line of lofty 
 boxes, and, above them, a low gallery. The sides of
 
 332 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 the auditorium are occupied by a series of plain Corin- 
 thian columns upon bases, those nearest the proscenium 
 projecting farthest from the wall, so that the general 
 shape of the mass of seats is remotely like that of an half- 
 open fan. Between these columns are the many doors, 
 by which the whole interior can be emptied in one or 
 two minutes. The doors were shut before the com- 
 mencement of each Act ; no one was allowed to come in 
 late. Upon the columns are a number of glass globes 
 lighted by the electric light. This is almost entirely 
 turned off while the representation is proceeding. 
 Nearly all the light then comes from the stage, which 
 is illuminated from above, as in nature, so that the 
 actors throw shadows upon their own feet. The foot- 
 lights are hardly perceptible. During the performance 
 the house is therefore much too dark to read ; and the 
 reflection from the stage makes barely visible the long 
 rows of silent and motionless heads. The curtain, of a 
 creamy white, with long broad perpendicular stripes of 
 purplish brown, and a sort of red and brown dado, is 
 not raised, but pulled aside, where it hangs in soft folds. 
 The general effect is as though the spectator were look- 
 ing from a dark room, through an open window, into 
 the open air. The orchestra is invisible. The acoustic 
 properties of the building, which has a flat ceiling, 
 slightly painted with the design of an awning are ad- 
 mirable. The most absolute silence is enforced during 
 the whole performance. As the light disappears, a 
 general ' hush ' is followed by complete silence : not till 
 then are the first notes heard. Any attempt at a 
 whisper after this instantly provokes intense though 
 mostly silent tokens of indignation. The effect of this 
 intense stillness of the assembly is very striking, 
 especially in the pauses which are sometimes made to
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 333 
 
 enhance the impression made by the music in the more 
 solemn passages. At the conclusion of each Act, how- 
 ever, there was usually a sort of struggle, of varying 
 result on the part of the less cultivated portion of the 
 audience, to applaud. It seems a pity that stronger 
 measures could not be taken to secure against this 
 barbarous, though well-intentioned, outbreak, which dis- 
 turbs the mind when most imbued with the ideas 
 excited by the music, and indeed cause a very distress- 
 ing shock in such moments as those which necessarily 
 follow the conclusion of the First and Third Acts of the 
 Parsifal. It may be remarked that the people who 
 applauded at the conclusion of the Act were exactly 
 those who showed the most tendency to defraud and 
 outrage the public by the brutality of speaking during 
 the representation. 
 
 Tristan und Isolde and Parsifal were the only two 
 dramas performed this year, the former being enacted 
 every Sunday and Thursday, and the latter every Mon- 
 day and Friday. This arrangement seems somewhat 
 unfortunate, as the religious character of Parsifal, and 
 the allusion to the sacred mystery of the Grail, make it 
 far more suitable than Tristan for representation upon 
 Sunday and Thursday, and this objection is certainly 
 not sufficiently counterbalanced by the isolated though 
 deeply significant fact that the time belonging to the 
 Third Act in the former composition is the morning of 
 Good Friday. Both dramas are alike taken from the 
 Arthurian cycle. 
 
 To give the story of Tristrem and Isonde as in the 
 classic, romances, or rather, myth, would have been 
 clearly impossible. The subject would then have been 
 adultery, and it would have had to have been treated 
 with the licentious immorality in which the brilliant
 
 334 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 pages of Sir Tristrem are steeped. Wagner has accord- 
 ingly eliminated the gross element, and only preserved 
 the one great thought of the affection of him whose 
 name has descended to us through thirteen cen- 
 turies as that of one of the Three Faithful Lovers 
 of Britain.* Consequently, in the treatment adopted by 
 Wagner, no mention is made of a completed marriage 
 between Isonde and Markof Cornwall, and the treachery 
 and dishonour of Tristrem are sufficiently emphasized by 
 the attempt to secure, both during his charge as 
 Ambassador entrusted with the nuptial treaty, and 
 after the arrival of the bride, the affections of the 
 woman who has been, by his ow^n means, contracted to 
 the King his benefactor. This skilful arrangement 
 enables the composer to create the high and self- sacrific- 
 ing character of Mark, wounded by the baseness and 
 ingratitude of Tristrem, but ready to surrender his own 
 rights and secure the happiness of others rather than 
 punish the man who has played him false and compel 
 his betrothed to a marriage with one whom she loves 
 less. Thus also the night interview of the lovers is 
 simply represented by a duet. 
 
 To redeem the character of Tristrem and Isonde, full 
 resort is had to the classic expedient of the philtre. 
 
 *The other two were : Caswallawn, son of Beli, the faithful lover of 
 Flur, daughter of Mugnach Gorr ; and Kynon, son of Clydno Eiddin, the 
 faithful lover of Morvyth, daughter of Urien of Rheged. In the Triads, 
 Tristrem is also mentioned as one of the three Compeers of Arthur's Court, 
 as one of the Diademed Princes, as one of the three Heralds, and as one 
 of the three Stubborn Ones, whom no one could turn from his purpose. In 
 a further triad he is represented as able to transform himself into any 
 shape he pleased. Lady Charlotte Guest's Mabinvgion, p. 312, 313. It 
 is an interesting fact that Tristrem and Isonde were also one of the three 
 pairs of lovers first received into literary favour by the German poets of 
 the Twelfth Century. The other were : Flore and Blanchfleur, and JEnens 
 and Dido.
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 335 
 
 According to the Auchinleck Sir Tristrem, this inci- 
 dent, it may be remembered, is as follows : 
 
 ' Her moder about was blithe 
 And tok a drink of might 
 That loue wald kithe, 
 And tok it Brengwain the bright 
 To think : 
 
 " At er spouseing anight 
 Gif Mark and hir to drink." 
 Ysonde bright of hewe 
 Is fer out in the se. 
 A winde ogain hem blewe 
 That sail no might ther be. 
 So rewe the knightes trewe, 
 Tristrem, so rewe he, 
 Euer as thai com newe 
 He on ogain hem thre 
 Gret swink. 
 Swete Ysonde the fre 
 Asked Bringwain a drink. 
 The coupe was richeli wrought, 
 Of gold it was, the pin ; 
 In al the warld was nought 
 Swiche drink as ther was in. 
 Brengwain was wrong bi thought, 
 To that drink sche gan win 
 And swete Ysonde it bi taught, 
 Sche bad Tristrem bigin, 
 To say. 
 
 Her loue might no man twin 
 Til her ending day.' 
 
 It may fairly be questioned whether Wagner would 
 not have done better for a position, which after all 
 demands some consideration, if not for possibility, at 
 least for the constitution of the human mind, if he had 
 followed the Rhymer in making the administration of 
 the philtre accidental, instead of venturing the series of 
 violent situations with which, after an overture expres- 
 sive of the disturbance of the lovers' hearts, the Opera 
 opens. Isonde is on her voyage from Ireland in a
 
 336 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 pavilion on ship-board, attended by Brengwain. In 
 despair at the hourly-approaching prospect of the forced 
 marriage with Mark, exasperated by the remembrance 
 that Tristrem has killed her uncle Morold whom she 
 had desired to marry an idea to us at once disgusting 
 and ludicrous, but not so to the German mind and 
 that she herself unknowingly healed the wound received 
 by him in the combat, and yet with a mind distracted 
 by a personal passion for Tristrem himself, she has not 
 spoken for a day and a night. Driven to desperation 
 by hearing a sailor sing of his love left behind in Ire- 
 land, by the refusal of Tristrem to come and speak to 
 her, and by a jeering song sung by the crew upon the 
 theme of his slaughter of Morold, she determines upon 
 suicide, against all the entreaties of Brengwain, but 
 cannot bear that Tristrem should survive her. Her 
 mother has provided her with a sort of medicine-chest, 
 containing specifics for different occasions, and, among 
 others, a love-philtre to be shared with Mark, and, 
 finally, as a solution of situations which may otherwise 
 be insoluble, a dose of poison. As the ship nears the 
 land, and the cheers of the sailors hail its arrival, she 
 obtains an interview with Tristrem, and, in a scene of 
 great beauty, persuades him to share with her the 
 deadly cup. But Brengwain has, in horror, secretly 
 substituted the love-philtre. The story resumes its 
 classic course. The cup once drained, the fated beings 
 are destitute of self-control. The position has all the 
 pathos of that of the Chevalier des Grieux, in the inn- 
 yard at Amiens, ' I advanced without the slightest 
 reserve towards her, who had thus become, in a moment, 
 the mistress of my heart.' They can reason no more, 
 they can only feel.
 
 THE BAYKEUTH FESTIVAL. 337 
 
 The Second Act, which represents the nocturnal 
 meeting of the lovers in the garden of Isonde, is, un- 
 doubtedly, the principal one of the Opera. Horns 
 sounding in the distance announce that Mark is gone 
 for a hunt by night, and the Queen-elect, despite the 
 warnings of Brengwa in that her passion has been be- 
 trayed by Melot, the intimate of Tristrem, extinguishes 
 the torch which warns him to keep at a distance, and 
 feverishly signals him by waving her veil. The scene 
 which ensues suggests the suspicion that Wagner, in a 
 moment of poetical inspiration, composed a duet 
 between lovers, and afterwards wrote an Opera to sur- 
 round it. selecting for the subject the most purely 
 passionate of the stories of the Arthurian cycle. It is 
 especially after the point at which Tristrem and 
 Isonde sit down together in the arbour of such ex- 
 quisite beauty, that the hearers were sometimes not 
 without audible signs of emotion. This great episode 
 is violently broken by the arrival of Mark and his 
 courtiers. The noble reproaches of the injured King 
 are, as already remarked, so composed by Wagner as to 
 place him in the most favourable light. Tristrem has 
 nothing to answer. The dawn is now streaking the 
 distant sky with red. The musical theme of the duet 
 returns. In the blind impetuosity of his thraldom, he 
 falls back from the powerless murmur of guilt into the 
 strain of passion, and openly, solemnly, reverently, 
 tenderly, kisses Isonde again. This insult provokes an 
 outburst from Melot, from whom, almost unresisting, 
 Tristrem receives a wound. 
 
 In the Third Act, Tristrem is in his own castle in 
 Kareol, tended by his friend Kurvenal, who, however, 
 realising the danger of the wound, has sent for Isonde, 
 who is alone able to heal it. The greater part of the 
 
 x
 
 338 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 Act is occupied by the ravings of Tristrem, and the 
 dialogue of Kurvenal with him and with the shepherd 
 who is upon the watch to signal the arrival of the ship. 
 At length he announces its approach, but the emotion 
 is too violent for Tristrem. Left alone for an instant, 
 he springs from his bed, and tears off his bandages, and 
 when Isonde arrives, he can only recognise her and ex- 
 pire in uttering her name. As she lies fondling the 
 corpse, in the vain hope of exciting some signs of life, 
 Mark follows her, having hastened after her in another 
 ship, to give his consent to the union of the lovers. 
 But it is too late, the senses of Isonde are going. For 
 a while she thinks she sees and feels the hero rising 
 into nobler worlds and carrying her with him, and then 
 falls upon his body. 
 
 Of the actual theatrical setting of this drama there is 
 little to say. It excited less than Parsifal the feeling 
 of regret that music so noble should be hampered at all 
 by the artificial accompaniments of the stage. The 
 deck of the ship, and the sea-view over and beyond it, 
 in the First Act, were very beautiful, but it may be 
 regretted that as the approach to the land was repre- 
 sented towards the close by introducing a view of the 
 coast unseen at the beginning, the illusion was not per- 
 fected by making the piece of machinery move. The 
 Second Act is remarkable, like other scenes in this 
 Theatre, for the extraordinary excellence with which 
 the overhanging boughs of the trees are represented, 
 and which is really often undistinguishable (did one 
 not know it to be false) from natural foliage ; and the 
 same remarks, both as to sea-view and to foliage, apply 
 to the last Act, but in this again, some arrangement 
 should be made for causing the ships to appear within 
 a very limited outlook, such as an harbour ; there is no
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 339 
 
 time for them to come from the horizon, where the 
 shepherd seems to descry them, before the passengers 
 land. And it would certainly heighten the effect to 
 the spectators if the moving masts could appear. As 
 to costume, the darkness which shrouds the details of 
 Irish and British life in the sixth century would justifv 
 almost anything, and there seemed to be an attempt at 
 conjectural correctness ; but the architecture of Britain 
 must at that time have been the classical style intro- 
 duced by the Romans, and nothing can palliate the 
 introduction of German Gothic. 
 
 It has been necessary, in speaking of the Bayreuth 
 Festival, to touch to some extent upon Tristan und 
 Isolde, since that Opera formed one of the representa- 
 tions. The real importance, however, centres in Parsi- 
 fal. The widow of the composer has forbidden the 
 performance of this work, even as an Oratorio, in any 
 other spot than the Bayreuth Theatre. This decision 
 may be to be regretted, but the fact is so ; and those 
 who desire to hear Parsifal must go to Bayreuth, and 
 to Bayreuth at the appointed times, for the purpose. 
 It is true that this composition would be impossible in 
 the conditions of an ordinary Opera, to which indeed it 
 is not analogous. It is essentially and purely a 
 religious drama, and may be compared with those plays 
 which were composed during the later Middle Ages and 
 Renaissance for the purpose of being acted in con- 
 nection with the Festival of Corpus Domini, and of 
 which those by Calderon form so remarkable an 
 example. The allusions are of the most sacred character. 
 Such themes and such a treatment would be insufferable 
 to the tasteless frivolity which only last year left the 
 Opera House at Covent Garden to be turned into a 
 circus. On the other hand, those who would resort to
 
 340 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 hear Parsifal do so in order to enter into the thought 
 which is its essence, and to raise the imagination upon 
 the wings of its music to grasp the ideas which it has 
 been created to express. To such an audience the sur- 
 roundings of a common theatre would be prohibitory ; 
 it is only the serious and simple circumstances of the 
 Bayreuth Theatre, the concentration of every effort and 
 of every detail upon the most perfect possible interpre- 
 tation of the poet's conception, which render tolerable 
 any scenic performance of this wondrous masterpiece. 
 
 The story of Parsifal lias in common with that of 
 Tristan the element of belonging to the Arthurian 
 cycle. But instead of this mere connecting fact with 
 the myths which touch upon the story of the Holy 
 Grail, or such a distant allusion as that which passes 
 like a thrill through the last Act of Lohengrin, the 
 reliques of the Saviour's Passion themselves form the 
 centre round which the whole action turns. In con- 
 structing this action, Wagner has followed the old, or 
 rather, oldest writings of the Legend of the Grail, 
 Wolfram von Eshenbach in his Parzival, and the author 
 of the French romance of Percivale* and made Sir 
 Percival, and not Sir Galahad and Sir Lancelot, or Sir 
 Galahead alone, as in the later romances, the hero of the 
 drama. According to the story as here, unfolded, two 
 of the most sacred of the reliques of the Passion, viz., 
 the Holy Grail itself, the Cup of the Last Supper, and 
 
 * The germ of the legend seems to be in Peredur in the Mabino^ion. In 
 the French we have first in date the Legend of Joseph of Arimathea, or 
 the Little Saint Graal, by Robert de Borron, then Walter Map's Great 
 Saint Graal. From this sprang the original form of Percevale, in which 
 the Knight of the Quest has not originally anything to do with the Round 
 Table : and next, Lancelot du Lac and the Quest of the Saint Graal, a quest 
 of which Galahad and Lancelot, and not Percival as in the earlier composi- 
 tions, are the heroes.
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 341 
 
 the Spear of the Centurion, which pierced the Divine 
 Side, have been permitted to pass through the ministry 
 of Angels, into the keeping of the Christian champion. 
 Titurel. By him they have been deposited in the 
 Castle of Mount Salvato, where they are surrounded 
 with watching and worship by a religious body of 
 Knights, who form a monastic community, save when 
 summoned forth upon the service of Faith and Charity 
 the ideal upon which the Orders of the Temple and 
 of the Hospital were actually based. The story of the 
 drama is that of an attempt made to destroy this com- 
 munity, through sin, by one who holds the doctrine of 
 Balaam, who taught Balac to cast a stumbling-block 
 before the children of Israel, to eat things sacrificed 
 unto idols, and to commit fornication ; and then the 
 restoration of the tottering sanctuary by the purity 
 and devotion of Sir Percival. The action thus assumes 
 a domestic character, as it were internal to the family 
 of the monastery, and the religious habit of the mem- 
 bers constantly appears upon the scene. They are 
 divided into the three ranks of Knights, Squires, and 
 Pages all alike are clad in grey tunics, girt with 
 leathern girths, over which the Knights and Squires 
 wear a dull scarlet mantle. This mantle, in the case 
 of the Knights, is marked with a white dove upon the 
 right shoulder, and a sword hangs by their side. One 
 of them is termed the King, but bis dress differs in 
 nothing from that of his brethren. His main duty is 
 to unveil before them, in the great Hall of the Castle, 
 the Holy Grail. When this is done, amid hymns of 
 praise and thanksgiving, a ray of miraculous light irra- 
 diates the Sacred Cup in token of the Divine favour, 
 and, unbrought by earthly hands, every man's cup is 
 found filled with wine and a portion of bread set before
 
 342 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 him.* This miraculous food is the support of the com- 
 munity. The hallowed Spear may no longer be borne 
 in earthly warfare, and can injure no more in common 
 things, but (by a profound allegory), it is represented 
 as still able to cause in the sinner a wound (as of guilty 
 remorse), which nothing save itself can heal. In the 
 blessed domain of Mount Salvato, the curse of creation 
 is done away ; no death is inflicted, and all living 
 creatures are in friendship with man. Even since 
 Titurel himself has descended by age into the grave, 
 and his son Amfortas reigns in his stead, his body still 
 quickens with miraculous life every time the Holy Cap 
 glows before the assembled brethren. 
 
 The stability of the religious community of Mount 
 Salvato is the object of undying hatred by the magician 
 Klingsor, once a candidate for admission into its ranks, 
 but rejected on account of sin. He makes his abode in 
 a castle reared of baneful illusion, t and surrounded by 
 evil phantoms of women who lure victims to moral ruin. 
 Closely connected with him is the wretched witch 
 Kundry, a woman condemned, like the wandering Jew, 
 to an indefinite life of misery, the fruit of having once 
 laughed at the Saviour. The irregular struggles of her 
 heart for the better things which would bring her peace, 
 are continually foiled by the malignant efforts of the 
 
 * Those who have passed a Sunday afternoon in Naples may remember 
 the same affecting conception, in the guild who assemble at the outer corner 
 of Sta. Lucia, bearing a picture of the Sacrament, and collect alms from the 
 passers by, to provide for the poor the bread which perishes. 
 
 tThe unreal and illusory character of sinful enjoyment, which probably 
 finds its deepest expression in the language of Buddhist thought, and 
 which Wagner makes so essential a feature in the diabolical portion of Par- 
 sifal, is an element which seems to run through all legends of sorcery and 
 records of witch-trials. Hence the French proverbial expression, beaute du 
 diable, for beauty, which is doomed almost at once to perish.
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 343 
 
 sorcerer, to which she is especially liable after the fits 
 of death-like sleep which chequer her miserable career ; 
 and then screams of demoniacal laughter again usher in 
 a new lapse of wrong. Clothed by him in the fantasmal 
 likeness of a siren, she has succeeded in effecting the 
 ruin of Amfortas, and Klingsor has possessed himself of 
 the Sacred Spear itself of which the King had thus 
 become the unfaithful keeper, and inflicted upon him 
 with its point a wound of unsleeping pain which no 
 touch but its own can heal. 
 
 The overture of Parsifal, of excessive beauty, leads 
 the disturbed condition of the brotherhood, soon mingled 
 with the pealing of the hallowed trumpets which the 
 hearer learns afterwards to associate with the mani- 
 festations of the Grail. The scene upon which the 
 curtain opens is one of singular artistic perfection. It 
 is as though nature itself revealed the forest bathed in 
 the light of the rising sun, whose beams glitter on the 
 distant surface of the lake, while the morning reveille 
 sounds in the distance from the towers of Mount 
 Salvato. The silent prayer with which the new day is 
 begun by the old knight Gurnemanz and the two 
 squires who have passed the night in the forest, marks 
 from the commencement the religious character of the 
 action. The wounded Amfortas is being carried down 
 to seek some relief by bathing in the lake, but before 
 his arrival the group are startled by the hasty entrance 
 of Kundry. She returns from Arabia with a balm 
 which she has sought in partial repentance, to mitigate 
 the consequences of her own crime, bub sinks down, 
 worn out, to sleep, with the piteous appeal that where 
 even wild beasts are safe, the heathen and the sorceress 
 may find rest. While she sleeps, and the King bathes, 
 a wild swan, hailed as the white omen of good, hovers
 
 344 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 over the lake, and Gurnemanz relates to the Squires the 
 history of the mystic wound, and how when Amfortas 
 knelt in prayer for pardon before the shrine of which he 
 had been the means of alienating and outraging one of the 
 great reliques, a vision had appeared from the Grail, and 
 a voice had bidden him wait for one sent to bring- him 
 
 O 
 
 deliverance, who in innocence should out of folly be made 
 wise through pity. Suddenly the swan falls wounded 
 to death by an arrow, and the brethren, in horror at the 
 profanation, fall angrily upon the archer, who is Percival. 
 Brought up in rough innocence, never having heard even 
 his own father's name, utterly untaught, the sacredness 
 of the spot was unknown to him, and he had shot the 
 bird from mere boyish instinct of sport, unconscious of 
 the deeper and more sympathetic feelings with which 
 the community regard pain and death among the lower 
 creatures, and the thought of the analogy between 
 physical and moral evil which is to them familiar. 
 Touched by his rebuke, he breaks his bow and arrows 
 in childish sorrow. In the end, Gurnemanz, thinking- 
 
 ' ' o 
 
 that to one so guileless, the Holy Grail may make some 
 manifestation of its Power (though Percival himself 
 asks, What the Grail is ?), and partly struck by the 
 enigmatic utterances of Kundry, who awakens for a 
 moment before sinking into a deeper sleep, determines 
 to lead him to Mount Salvato. From this point begins 
 that latter portion of the First Act which involves the 
 revelation of the Sacred Cup, and is one of Wagner's 
 noblest and most affecting compositions. While mystic 
 music heralds their approach to the Shrine, the scene in 
 the Theatre itself moves forward through trees and 
 rocks gradually wrapt in darkness. It is perhaps a 
 pity, since so vast a mechanical contrivance was to be 
 set in motion, that the idea of rising could not have
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 345 
 
 been conveyed. The effect in any case is very striking. 
 If the eye be caught in a particular way, the spectator 
 experiences the singular impression that the forest and 
 the mountain are still, but that the Theatre and 
 audience are in motion. When, amid the boom and 
 clangour of Church bells, the light dawns again, one of 
 the most remarkable material resources of the building 
 is discovered. The onlookers are gazing, not upon the 
 painted semblance, but upon the reality, of a great 
 octagonal hall in the late classical or early Byzantine 
 architecture, which is sufficiently harmonious with the 
 time. The roofs seem to be in gold mosaic, the columns 
 of marble, and the pavement of inlaid work. The 
 arches of the central octagon itself are surrounded by a 
 pillared triforium, above which rises the octagonal 
 dome. Beneath the dome, a hollow round table, sur- 
 rounded by wooden benches, and covered by a white 
 cloth embroidered with white orphreys, bears a row of 
 silver cups. In the centre, raised upon a flight of three 
 steps, is a smaller covered table, shaped somewhat like 
 an altar, and behind this a couch for the wounded 
 King. In the background is the gilded grille surround- 
 ing the grave of Titurel. The Knights now enter in 
 procession through the aisles and take their places 
 around the circular table, singing an hymn, which is 
 succeeded by another from the unseen chorus of the 
 Squires in the triforium, and again by that of the boys, 
 like a song of Angels, from the height of the dome, cele- 
 brating directly the original cause of the sanctity of the 
 Grail. The covered shrine which contains the holy 
 vessel itself is then borne in in procession and placed 
 upon the central table. Amfortas follows it, carried 
 upon his litter, and is laid upon the couch. But no 
 action is taken, and a pause ensues. Suddenly the
 
 346 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 voice of Titurel from the grave demands the unveiling 
 of the Sacred Cup. Maddened by unceasing pain, 
 Amfortas hinders the lads from obeying, dreading that 
 the power of the relique may serve to protract his life 
 of suffering, and calling only for pardon and death. In 
 reply, the pure voices of the boys from above repeat the 
 promise of the vision, and the Knights exhort him to 
 patience. The voice of Titurel again commands the 
 ceremony, and the Squires obey. The coverings of the 
 shrine are one by one slowly removed, and at last the 
 hallowed vessel stands exposed upon the table. All 
 kneel in silent and motionless prayer, while darkness 
 shrouds the hall, and the unseen chorus above again 
 rises in praise of the holiness of the relique. Suddenly, 
 supernatural light breaks from above over the table, 
 and a glow appears in the Grail itself, which seems to 
 burn in the midst. Amfortas now fulfils his office, and 
 holds up the Cup to the sight of his brethren. As he 
 replaces it, the miraculous illumination dies away in 
 the Grail and in the hall, and the daylight returns, 
 showing the cups filled with wine and the table spread 
 with bread. The relique is again covered, and the 
 Knights eat the meal, amid a fresh sacred chorus, be- 
 ginning this time from the height, and, when the 
 Squires have finished, completed by themselves in 
 thanksgiving. The banquet ended, all rise, exchange 
 the kiss of peace, and retire again, amid the renewed 
 sounding of the bells, in the order in which they came. 
 Percival has all the while been gazing as it were 
 stupified at the august ceremony. When Gurnemanz 
 speaks to him, he seems to understand nothing about 
 it, and the old man thrusts him angrily out of the hall. 
 Once more, however, a fresh chorus from above speaks
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 347 
 
 of hope and peace,* and the curtain is closed amid a 
 renewed movement of the religious music. 
 
 The profound impression which this scene leaves upon 
 the hearer, it is difficult, if not impossible, to describe. 
 For some time after it closes, it is irksome to speak or 
 to turn the thoughts to anything else. Its vitality 
 which is intense is in the music, and it would be as 
 well, if not better, heard with the eyes shut. Such 
 being the case, it is almost waste of words to criticise 
 the details of its presentment upon the stage. The 
 only result is to show that such creations transcend the 
 material capacities of scenic representation. As a 
 matter of fact, at Bayreuth, the chorus in their ascend- 
 ing heights are not so placed. They are marched 
 across the stage, and have to sing from the sides. The 
 worst feature is that probably owing to the difficulty 
 or expense, or both, of procuring boys the part of the 
 Pages is taken by women, a circumstance which, besides 
 the vocal disadvantage, produces the ludicrous anomaly 
 of what are obviously women disguised as boys, in the 
 midst of a monastery of men. For some reason difficult 
 to guess, the miraculous appearance of the bread and 
 wine, which would have been easily within the range 
 of mechanical art, is omitted ; the bread and wine are 
 brought in in procession, in wicker baskets and silver 
 pitchers, behind the Grail, and distributed by the 
 Squires after they have been held up to the relique and 
 it has been again covered. The Knights also do not 
 make any semblance of eating but seemingly carry off 
 the loaves in their pockets, after each taking a draught 
 of wine. The shrine containing the Grail itself is also 
 a mere box, veiled with a reddish purple cloth, and 
 
 * So in the performance.
 
 348 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 carried by one young man in both hands ; it certainly 
 ought to have been a large shrine borne shoulder-high, 
 as in representations of the carrying of the Ark of the 
 Covenant. It must be admitted, however, that every- 
 thing else is admirable, especially the effects of light. 
 The means, whatever they are, by which the glow of 
 intense brightness in the Cup is produced, are quite 
 invisible. 
 
 The scene of the Second Act is laid in the mass of 
 evil illusions which constitutes the stronghold of 
 Klingsor, and the overture expresses the fermentation 
 of passion and excitement by which he triumphs. The 
 magician is alarmed lest the purity of Percival should 
 ultimately work the full restoration of Mount Salvato. 
 The lad, out of mere boyish curiosity, is now approach- 
 ing the enchanted castle, and Kundry is summoned up 
 by sorcery to undertake his moral corruption. Pain- 
 fully roused from her death-like lethargy, she rises, a 
 veiled phosphorescent shape, like the ' materializations ' 
 familiar to Spiritualists, and from which indeed the 
 idea of the appearance is probably derived. A scene of 
 violence ensues, for she sickens over the task, but the 
 jeering arguments of her evil genius at last sting her 
 to despair ; the throes of disgust and remorse grow 
 feebler, and at length convulsive peals of demoniac 
 laughter announce his success, and the poor creature 
 sinks again into the darkness. The unreal building 
 vanishes, and Percival is seen standing upon the brink 
 of the garden of sensual indulgence. It is difficult to 
 guage the full meaning of this picture as presented at 
 Bayreuth. It is like a third-rate transformation-scene. 
 Lack of money may possibly have had something to do 
 with its mechanical meanness, but hardly with what 
 appears its rough artificialism and garish vulgarity.
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 349 
 
 On the other hand, and putting aside the consideration 
 that such figures as glaring cactus-flowers about three 
 feet in diameter have the effect of dwarfing to the 
 appearance of fairies the girls who enact the nymphs, 
 it is not difficult to imagine a design to convey the 
 notion of essential unreality, and that such a world, 
 however disguised in music and sentiment, is but the 
 region of grossness after all. When Percival descends, 
 wondering, into the garden, the nymphs by whom he 
 is surrounded are not of the type which might have 
 been expected, and which some theatres unnecessary 
 to specify seem ready enough to supply. They are 
 tastefully and modestly dressed as living flowers, each 
 clad, as it were, in one large inverted blossom, and, 
 dwarfed by the gigantic scenery, bear a striking re- 
 semblance to the fairies of the late Richard Doyle. 
 The music, and action are rather plaintive and playful 
 than erotic. It has been observed that the mind 
 of the Blessed Angelico of Fiesole was of a cast so 
 saintly that he is incapable of representing wickedness, 
 and, when he attempts it, becomes merely grotesque. 
 It may be thought that the re6nement of Wagner 
 rendered him incapable of depicting the coarse, and that 
 in entering upon such a theme, he can only be childish. 
 Whether this be so or no, a little consideration will 
 show that in a drama of sustained religious thought 
 such as Parsifal, the realistic of this kind would have 
 been impossible, and the idea, as by the garden itself, 
 is only duly to be conveyed through half- mystic indica- 
 tions which are sufficient for the mind. Moreover, the 
 character of Percival, as known to Klingsor, has to be 
 considered. Nothing should be introduced that can be- 
 gin by startling and alarming his boyish innocence. 
 The aim is rather first to captivate the senses by a
 
 350 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 seemingly harmless show, underneath which lurks de- 
 struction. Such as they are, the living flowers strike 
 him only as the botanical ones might have done. He 
 regards them with a harmless boyish pleasure, which 
 after a little while gives place to annoyance at their 
 importunities, which he does not understand. The first 
 experiment, which is to be regarded rather as a prepar- 
 ation of the mind than any serious attempt, has failed. 
 Percival is about to leave the spot when a voice calls 
 him, which reminds him of his mother. The nymphs 
 withdraw tittering. Kundry, transformed into the 
 phantasm of a siren, is now seen lolling upon a seat of 
 flowers under the gaudy branches. He asks her if she 
 is a plant that grows there ? Thereupon begins the 
 famous Temptation-Music. This also is of the most 
 refined kind. The licentiousness is that of Haidee, not 
 of Inez. Kundry begins by talking of his mother and 
 of all her love and sorrow, ending by her lonely death 
 since his departure. Percival is deeply touched. The 
 sorceress proceeds to speak of these new affections 
 which, as men grow up, arise beside and partly 
 take the place of those which have passed into 
 the silence of another world. She tells him of the 
 tenderness and love of woman. Percival, strongly 
 affected by her sympathy, is now kneeling at her knees. 
 Believing the moment to have come to assail the fleshly 
 instinct, she slowly impresses on him a kiss of burning 
 passion. Confused for an instant by the strange sensa- 
 tion aroused, Percival rises instinctively disturbed, and 
 separates from her. Suddenly he realises that this was 
 it which was probably fatal to another victim, whose 
 suffering he has beheld, and, with a strong cry of dread 
 utters the name of ' Auifortas ! ' Trembling with ex- 
 citement he recalls the agony of the King, which he
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 351 
 
 now begins to comprehend, bub the train of thought 
 suddenly leads him to that which gives peace, the re- 
 collection of the Holy Grail. The mysterious Castle 
 and the holy relique rise before his mental vision. The 
 theme of its sacred music now shapes the utterances of 
 his memory. For the first time we hear that as he 
 gazed as though dumbfoundered upon the august sol- 
 emnity, he heard a voice whence he knew not, and 
 whose meaning he understood not bidding him go 
 rescue another holy thing now held in profanation. He 
 blames himself for this idle straying and suddenly 
 falls upon his knees calling for pardon and strength in 
 prayer. Kundry rises and approaches him, but his 
 mind is now roused to an agony of terror, and he 
 thrusts her from him. The witch then actually appeals 
 to religion. She does not disguise her own wretched 
 history. She adjures him, in mercy and in pity towards 
 even one so lost to have compassion on her. His touch 
 can make her clean. Percival, now seeing the truth in 
 clearness, answers her that her redemption cannot flow 
 from the same spring which is the source of her misery, 
 that to her indeed he can offer a message of deliverance, 
 but it is not by making him a sharer in her own con- 
 demnation, but through repentance, and by a change of 
 heart which shall begin by healing Amfortas. The last 
 and despairing temptation that if thus enlightened by 
 her very kiss, she is ready to make him as a god, 
 knowing both good and evil, falls unanswered and 
 unheeded. She bursts into a whirlwind of de- 
 monaic fury, full of imprecations and curses, and 
 finally shrieks to Klingsor to bring the Spear. The 
 magician, believing from her cry that Percival has 
 fallen, aims at him the hallowed Spear with which the 
 Centurion once pierced the Saviour's Side, and which
 
 352 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 now, withdrawn from carnal warfare, can cause in the 
 sinner the ever-gnawing wound which only itself can 
 heal. The holy weapon quivers in the air. The lad 
 merely takes it in his hand, and as the sacred 
 theme of the Grail music again breaks forth, makes 
 with it the sign of the Cross. In the twinkling of an 
 eye the whole fabric of evil illusion passes away with a 
 crash, leaving the true desert of withered barrenness 
 displayed, and the baffled sorceress prostrate on the 
 earth. And as Percival goes away, bearing the Holy 
 Spear, he pauses for a moment to remind her that she 
 knows where only she can meet him. 
 
 Into the Third Act, which presents the final exalta- 
 tion of Percival, would seem to have been poured all the 
 expression of the highest feelings of which the colossal 
 genius of Wagner was capable. Under the curse of the 
 sorceress, Percival, instead of returning directly with 
 the Holy Spear to Mount Salvato, has been wandering, 
 but, while toiling in the battles of righteousness, and 
 faithfully guarding the sacred relique, has, in his inno- 
 cence, out of folly been made wise through pity. 
 Kundry has learnt to repent. But the brotherhood of 
 Mount Salvato is breaking up. Amfortas, in the vain 
 search for death to end his misery, altogether refuses to 
 unveil the Grail. For himself it brings no remedy, he 
 still survives to suffer, but the life which it supported 
 has just been quenched in Titurel. The Knights are no 
 longer called out on high errands, and are scattered in 
 search of bread. To the hearer, however, the overture, 
 which at first speaks of the decay and sorrow of Mount 
 Salvato, speaks hope also as it recurs at last to the holy 
 theme of the Grail. The scene opens on the hut by a 
 spring whither the aged Knight Gurnemanz has re- 
 treated. The morning reveille is again sounding from
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 353 
 
 the Castle. It is the morning of Titurel's funeral, to 
 which the scattered Knights have been bidden to 
 assemble, but it is also the morning of Good Friday. 
 That this profound idea is mocked at Bayreuth by a 
 very poor arrangement of mechanical scenery, which, if 
 it represented anything, would represent an impossible 
 late summer or late autumn, is a matter which, in view 
 of the thought, may be passed over at once. When 
 Percival himself, at a later moment, mournfully contrasts 
 the glory of the spring morning with the mental gloom 
 of the Day of Agony, Gurnemanz bids him view the 
 phenomenon of nature with the thought that, on the 
 Day of Reconciliation, sinless creation is smiling uncon- 
 sciously upon redeemed man. 
 
 Gurnemanz is attracted by the groans of Kundry, 
 who has crawled by inspiration to the blessed domain, 
 and is lying worn out in a thicket. She is utterly 
 changed, and attired in the robe of a penitent. She 
 seeks nothing but the humblest work,* and sets about 
 bringing water from the fountain to the cell. Presently 
 Percival enters, in black armour, and with his face 
 hidden, still carrying the Holy Spear, which he plants 
 in the earth. Gurnemanz does not know him, and 
 reminds him of the sanctity alike of the place and of the 
 day, which forbid the bearing of carnal weapons, in 
 reverence of Him Who suffered defenceless for us. 
 Percival sits down, lays aside his shield, and bares his 
 head, then kneels long in prayer before the sacred 
 weapon. He rises filled with inspiration, but still par- 
 tially unconscious through humility, and moves slowly 
 
 * This is the celebrated occasion on which Wagner keeps the prima donna 
 upon the stage during an whole Act, without her uttering more than two 
 words, but the acting of Fraulein Malten, in particular, is so deeply im- 
 pressive that it seems as if no language could add to its effect. 
 
 Y
 
 354 THE BAYRETJTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 forward to that which is the climax of the whole 
 drama his Kingly appointment, through the power of 
 moral victory, to work deliverance for others. Gurne- 
 manz, who has recognized him while he prayed, greets 
 him and tells him of the affliction of the sanctuary. 
 Percival, groaning aloud in his humility, seats himself 
 beside the well. Gurnemanz and Kundry strip him of 
 the armour of earthly warfare. She washes his feet 
 and the old man sprinkles water on his head. Suddenly 
 the penitent brings out a phial of ointment, anoints 
 Percival's feet, and wipes them with the hair of her 
 head. Presently he takes the phial and hands it to 
 Gurnemanz, bidding him anoint him ; and Gurnemanz 
 taking the phial, anoints him King in Mount Salvato. 
 
 Percival immediately baptizes Kundry. 
 
 She sinks upon the earth, prostrate in tears of thanks- 
 giving. When, after a time, she rises, he gives her an 
 holy kiss. Then the bells of the Castle begin to sound 
 for the funeral of Titurel. Gurnemanz brings forth the 
 robe of the Order, which he himself has not been wear- 
 ing since his voluntary exile, and invests Percival in it. 
 Thus clad, he takes the Holy Spear, and followed by 
 the ancient Knight and the repentant woman, goes 
 forth to assume the seat of his Kingdom. 
 
 Upon this sublime conception of Wagner, it is almost 
 needless to make any remark. The unction of Per- 
 cival, by a little band which rises above all assemblies, 
 suggests irresistibly the thought of the crowning of 
 David in Hebron, but the yet more significant act of 
 the repentant woman reminds the hearer that every 
 disciple who is perfect shall be as his Master.* 
 
 * The very remarkable physiognomy of Herr Vogl emphasizes the 
 impression.
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 355 
 
 The whole body of the stage scenery is then again 
 mechanically changed as in the First Act, but inversing 
 the order. The darkness fades away, and the great 
 hall of the Castle is again before the eyes of the spec- 
 tator but no tables are now spread to receive the 
 miraculous banquet. The Knights, their helmets no 
 longer covered by their hoods, and followed by the 
 entire community, enter in funeral procession bearing 
 the corpse of Titurel, which is set down before the table 
 of the Grail. With the covered shrine carried before 
 him, Amfortas is brought in upon his litter, and laid 
 upon the couch. Cries of reproach are addressed to 
 the King, but when the bier is uncovered he only 
 adjures the spirit of that father whose death he has 
 himself caused, to obtain through its prayers his deliver- 
 ance by death, from suffering. The whole community 
 once more demand that he shall fulfil his office and 
 expose the relique. But the prospect of the last relief 
 is too near he throws himself forward among the 
 Knights, bares his breast, and bids them slay him un- 
 cover the life-giving Grail, he will not. At this 
 moment Percival, Gurnemanz and Kundry, enter the 
 hall unperceived, and the new King touches Amfortas' 
 wound with the iron which once pierced the Saviour's 
 Side. The wound is instantly healed. Then, as Per- 
 cival holds aloft in triumph the blessed weapon, a 
 miraculous crimson glow, memorial of the Divine Blood, 
 appears upon it. As it fades, he commands the un- 
 covering of the Grail. All sink upon their knees. 
 Darkness shrouds the hall. The ceremony proceeds as 
 usual, amid its sacred music. Suddenly, blinding 
 sheets of light descend upon the motionless and ador- 
 ing assembly. The Holy Vessel glows again in the 
 midst like a gigantic ruby. Percival arises and lifts it
 
 356 THE BA.YREUTH FESTIVAL. 
 
 up in sight of the brotherhood. A heavenly dove 
 descends from on high and floats on silvery wings above 
 the miraculous Chalice. Almost unseen, the poor sin- 
 worn woman has crawled on her knees to the foot of 
 the steps, and, when her eyes rest upon the Sacred Cup, 
 her sorrows sleep in death.* Voices of unseen choirs 
 hymn the work of mercy and restoration. There is no 
 room here to criticize the representation. The eye is 
 not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with 
 hearing. 
 
 The fact is, however, that a conception so tremendous 
 is hardly fitted for representation upon any stage. The 
 ideas roused by the thought, and by the music which 
 interprets it, are of such a character that any mise-en- 
 scene, however perfect, must almost necessarily serve 
 as an whole to hamper and cripple the imagination. 
 Those who were so happy as to hear even the mutilated 
 version of Parsifal performed as an Oratorio in the 
 Albert Hall two years ago, had an opportunity of more 
 thoroughly appreciating the music which is the life of 
 the creation. Not only was there no spectacle to dis- 
 tract the mind, and the choirs were more perfect, e g^ 
 by the use of male voices, but the vast size of the build- 
 ing enabled the effect of the bodies of singers in the 
 First, and, to a certain extent, in the last Act, elevated 
 one above the other, to be given with full scope. 
 
 The intellectual effort of the hearer is, as may be 
 gathered, considerable. The result is somewhat that 
 which is said to occur in patients frequently subjected 
 to the mesmeric sleep. The artificial existence becomes 
 continuous. So his real life becomes centred in the 
 
 * According to the text, the corpse of Titurel rises for a moment in 
 its coffin, but this is not done in the performance.
 
 THE BAYREUTH FESTIVAL. 357 
 
 opera. The obtrusive discomfort of existence in Bay- 
 reuth sinks into a detail, an annoying dream to be for- 
 gotten as soon as possible. Beginning in the middle of 
 the afternoon and ending late at night, the representa- 
 tion consumes a great part of the actual, and still more 
 of the conscious day. And it must be remembered, 
 that, besides the period of the performance, considerable 
 time is necessarily spent in preparatory study ; and 
 that the thought and the conversation so much of the 
 latter as there is of those who have formed and are 
 again to form the audience, are naturally saturated by 
 the subject. From the morning, the approaching repre- 
 sentation stands out as the object of the day. The 
 things needful are done. The time approaches. The 
 hearer joins the crowds which are streaming up the 
 little hill towards the great dull-red building. Pre- 
 sently he is in his place in the large plain auditorium. 
 A while and the lights are lowered. The audience 
 settle themselves and the buzz of conversation dies 
 away. Darkness ensues. The closing doors shut out 
 the last glimpses of daylight. There is an hush, 
 followed by silence and stillness. And presently the 
 first notes are heard. Another six hours of intense 
 enjoyment has begun.
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHIJ 
 
 Benedictine Arnold Wion, in the second volume 
 of his book called Lignum Vitce (Venice, 1595) 
 says of St. Malachi,t Archbishop of Armagh : ' It is 
 stated that he wrote several opuscula, none of which I 
 have up to this date come across, except a certain pro- 
 phecy concerning the Popes, which, seeing that it is not 
 long, and has never, so far as I know, been printed, and 
 that many persons wish to see it, I here insert/ He 
 does so accordingly, and thus was made known to the 
 world for the first time the celebrated series of mottoes 
 commonly called the ' Prophecies of St. Malachi/ pur- 
 porting to have been written before the election of 
 Celestine II. in 1143, and to give a prophetic indication 
 of every Pope who was or is to fill the Holy See from 
 that time until the Second Coming of our Lord. Wion 
 himself thought that the alleged prophecy was a forgery 
 only a few years old, and the Dominican Ciacioni, whose < 
 elucidations he published with it, did not believe in its 
 authenticity. After a time, however, as years rolled 
 by, and Pope succeeded Pope, a large number of persons 
 thought that the fulfilment of the prophecies was so 
 
 * Reprinted from the Dublin Review, Vol. XCVII. p. 369. The author 
 is indebted for the first paragraph to the Right Reverend Bishop Hedley. 
 
 t Malachi commonly so-called. It is, however, only an instance of the 
 adoption as a Scriptural name instead of the Celtic one, upon no ground 
 except some resemblance of sound. His real name was Maleachlan ' ton- 
 sured in honour of Seachnall.' 
 
 359
 
 360 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 
 
 evident and so striking that it was impossible to avoid 
 the conclusion that, whoever might be the author, these 
 predictions must have been written with a supernatural 
 illumination as to the future. Others declared that the 
 alleged fulfilments were either fanciful or accidental. 
 A great divergence of opinion and a sort of intermittent 
 controversy, both among Catholics and others, have 
 prevailed ever since, and there exists quite a small 
 literature 011 the subject. It may perhaps be said that, 
 although these so-called predictions have rarely been 
 the object of active attack, the general sentiment has 
 been opposed to them at least passively. No serious 
 Church historian has attached any weight to them ; 
 Baronius, Raynaldus, Spondanus, etc., make no use of 
 them. On the other hand, those who believe in them 
 have been, and are, very numerous ; their works in 
 support of the claims of this vaticination to be truly in- 
 spired of God, have been devout, learned, and laborious ; 
 and it is probable that what are claimed as the striking 
 fulfilments of the last hundred years, and the dissemina- 
 tion of literature on the subject, are considerably in- 
 creasing their numbers. Binterim hesitates to allow 
 the prophecy no value whatever. The learned Feller 
 feels himself obliged to confess that some of the predic- 
 tions have in later times been remarkably fulfilled, 
 giving, as an instance, the motto ' Perigrinus Apos- 
 tolicus,' which represents the exiled Pius VI. The atti- 
 tude of the late Dr. Neale, as is plain enough from what 
 he says on the subject and his conjecture as to the 
 'Crux de Cruce' was at least one of very friendly 
 neutrality. The question was raised in Dr. Pusey's 
 contentions in favour of the Book of Daniel. In a work 
 called Voix Prophetiques* which was printed by V. 
 
 * Voix Prophetiques, Vol. ii., p. 34. Par 1' Abbe J. M. Curicque.
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALA CHI. 361 
 
 Palme in 1872, the writer says : ' I am aware that this 
 prophecy has found numerous gainsayers, but time has 
 undertaken the task of refuting them.' He then refers 
 to, and quotes at length, an Abbe Cucherat, who 
 appears to have written a vindication of its authenticity 
 in the Revue du Monde Catholique* 
 
 The same writer speaks also of the Civiitd Cattolica 
 as being on the same side ; but no reference is given. 
 It is idle to multiply references to the adherents of the 
 doctrine of the genuine inspiration of these prophecies, 
 and it is only just and fair to admit that he who opposes 
 them will, in a general way, find himself, pro tanto, 
 associated with the whole run of misbelievers and un- 
 believers in things holy, and opposed to many of the 
 most pious and orthodox, and not the least learned. 
 When the late Pontiff died in February, 1878, some 
 one wrote to a Birmingham paper calling attention to 
 the motto for the next Pope. One week after the date 
 of the letter Leo XIII. was proclaimed, and many were, 
 and are, quite satisfied that the fiery star in the dexter 
 chief of the arms of the new Pope fulfils the prophetic 
 motto 'Lumen in Celo.' 
 
 The intention of the present writer is not to express 
 any opinion as to the claims of these predictions, but 
 merely to serve any one who cares to read these lines 
 by placing at his disposal some analytical notes which 
 he had, last year, the opportunity of writing, through 
 the combination of a sea-voyage and the circumstance 
 of picking up one or two of the leading books in which 
 the subject is discussed. 
 
 Of external evidence these prophecies possess not a 
 scrap. Wion does not even tell us the source whence 
 
 * S^rie de 1871, p. 437.
 
 362 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 
 
 he derived them, and, independently of his work, they 
 have never been heard of before or since. A very great 
 difficulty is at once raised by the total silence of St. 
 Bernard of Clairvaux, Malachi's intimate friend and 
 public panegyrist. It is utterly idle to argue, as has 
 been done, that Bernard is silent because the Church 
 never makes the genuineness of such prophecies a 
 matter of faith. The same remark would apply to any 
 other statement about St. Malachi. No one knew 
 better than Bernard, that, while such things are never 
 propounded as of faith, they are left perfectly open to 
 the private judgment of the faithful, so long as they 
 contain nothing contrary to faith or morals. Here was 
 an excellent instance to apply the Divine rule (Deut. 
 xviii. 22) : ' When a prophet speaketh in the name of 
 the Lord, if the thing follow not, nor come to pass, 
 that is the thing which the Lord hath not spoken.' 
 This test, the very test given by God Himself to dis- 
 tinguish His Word, was exactly applicable in this case. 
 If these prophecies are genuine, the three first had 
 been most strikingly fulfilled before Malachi died at 
 Clairvaux and Bernard preached his funeral sermon in 
 1148, and a fourth and most wonderful fulfillment had 
 taken place several weeks before Bernard's own death 
 in 1153. Under these circumstances, the believers in 
 the inspiration of these predictions have suggested that, 
 although the mottoes themselves are shown by facts to 
 have been really inspired from Heaven, their ascription 
 to Malachi of Armagh, or perhaps to any Malachi, is a 
 mistake. Let it be assumed, then, that they are the 
 work of some Seer now known only to his Divine 
 Teacher, and had lain hidden from before the middle of 
 the twelfth century till the time of Wion. There still 
 remains the difficulty (among others) which will here-
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 363 
 
 after be pointed out viz., that any one writing before 
 1143 should make allusions to the technicalities of 
 scientific heraldry. If this difficulty he held otherwise 
 insuperable, it can be disposed of in only one of two 
 ways viz., a very peculiar, if not unprecedented, 
 theory of the nature of prophetic vision ; or that the 
 true prophecies are of, and originally began at, some 
 later date, when scientific heraldry had been developed, 
 and that some one coming across them had amused him- 
 self by making similar mottoes for the preceding Popes. 
 Whether this last hypothesis has ever been started the 
 present writer does not know. However it be, it is 
 only upon the internal evidence of inspiration that the 
 upholders of these prophecies base their claims, and it 
 is to that internal evidence that attention is here called. 
 Here follows the whole series : 
 
 Celestine II., 11431144. Ex Castro Tiberis 
 ' From the Castle on the Tiber.' His name was Guy 
 de Castelli (' of the Castles '), an antient family who 
 have a castle in their arms, and he was born at the 
 town of Castello in Umbria, at the source of the Tiber. 
 
 Lucius II., 1144 1145. Inimicus expulsus 'The 
 enemy chased out.' His name was Gerard Caccia- 
 nemico, which surname signifies, in Italian, ' Chase- 
 enemy.' 
 
 Eugene III., 1145 1153. Ex Magnitudine Montis 
 ' From the Greatness of a Mountain.' He was born 
 in the Castle of Grammonte that is, gran monte, in 
 Latin ; mons magnus, ' the great mountain' in the 
 territory of Pisa. 
 
 Anastasius IV., 1153 1154. Abbas Suburranus 
 4 A Suburban Abbat.' His name was Conrad of 
 Suburra, and he was Abbat of St. Rufus of Velletri.
 
 364 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 
 
 Adrian IV., 11541159. De Rure Albo ' From a 
 white country place.' The album is a pun upon the 
 name of St. Albans, in England, his native town, or of 
 Albano, of which he was Bishop ; possibly upon both, 
 and both may be called country places. Some have 
 also believed that it contains an allusion to the colour 
 of his dress, as he was either a Cistercian or a Canon 
 Regular, both of whom wear white, and their dwelling 
 might be called a country place. 
 
 Alexander III., 1159 1181. Ex Ansere Cuttode 
 ' From the Keeper Goose.' The precise application is 
 disputed, but it is in any case admitted to apply to the 
 name of his family, Paparo, which means a goose. The 
 ' Keeper ' probably refers to the keep or tower which 
 appears in their arms. 
 
 The motto of this last Pope is in some editions placed 
 after the three next, which are those of the succession 
 of an ti popes who plagued Europe during his pontificate, 
 until 1178. With these three arises a point upon 
 which a very grave objection to the inspiration of these 
 so-called prophecies has been based namely, that the 
 antipopes are included in the series along with the real 
 Bishops of Home. This objection has naturally found 
 most weight with Catholics. Seeing in the succession 
 of the Roman bishops a direct vicegerency for Christ, 
 appointed by Himself, they consequently argue that, 
 however human weakness might cause the judgment of 
 man, when unassisted, to hesitate or to err as to who, 
 among several competing claimants, is the lawful 
 possessor of the dignity, an inspired prophet could not 
 fail to distinguish the true Pope from impostors. It 
 must be observed, however, that the writer of these 
 mottoes can hardly be said to place all upon a level, 
 since he actually applies the term Schismatic to
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 365 
 
 several of the antipopes he enumerates, and that, in 
 giving a forecast of the future fate of the Papal throne, 
 it would hardly be possible to omit all mention of 
 persons who appeared to occupy it and were so recog- 
 nised by sections of the Christian world, and some- 
 times in Rome itself, any more than a Seer of 
 the Monarchs of France, however Legitimist in 
 principles, could be expected to pass in silence over 
 the existence of the Napoleonic dynasty. It is to 
 be observed, moreover, that antipopes are omitted 
 who form no figure in history. There is another 
 point of view, however, from which the insertion 
 of these antipopes is calculated to excite the sus- 
 picion of forgery. In the case of the Great Schism the 
 question of the claims of the contending competitors 
 can hardly be regarded as even yet closed ; although it 
 is true that the verdict of historians is now generally 
 given in favour of the Roman or Urbanist line. At the 
 time itself, Saints since canonized, and consequently 
 in Communion with the visible Church, were divided 
 in opinion, and this even in favour of the line of 
 Anagni ; and the line of Pisa may be said to have re- 
 ceived the united approval and recognition of the 
 greater part of Christendom. The schism itself was 
 terminated, not by the submission of the other com- 
 petitors to any one other, but by their resignation, a 
 statement which is true, even in the strict letter of the 
 words, of Giles de Muiioz. Martin V. could not pro- 
 hibit the words ' formerly Pope ' (quondam Papa) 
 from being inscribed on the grave of Balthassar Cossa 
 in the Baptistery of Florence, where they stand un- 
 changed to this day. A good deal of historical par- 
 tisanship must have remained alive both till the close 
 of the sixteenth century and after ; possibly even at
 
 366 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHT. 
 
 this day the authorities of the University of St. 
 Andrews might not feel complimented on being bluntly 
 informed that the Founder on the authority of whose 
 Bull they still act, had no more right to grant it than 
 has the Claimant Castro to exercise the rights of Sir 
 Roger Tich borne. The doctrines of Pisa were peculiarly 
 calculated to find favour in Gallican quarters. Alto- 
 gether, had a forger taken a distinct and dogmatic line 
 on the subject of the Great Schism, he would have 
 found himself exposed to a very wide denunciation in 
 any case. Thus it would naturally suggest itself to 
 put in all, trusting to the defence above indicated. 
 After this, consistency would require the insertion of 
 all the antipopes who could boast of a visible existence, 
 and the branding of two of them with the term schis- 
 matic carefully selecting, however, for this purpose, 
 Peter of Corvara and Giles de Mufioz, who were least 
 likely to find defenders could be appealed to as a 
 proof that the prophet really knew all about it if only 
 he had chosen to speak. The three here given are : 
 
 Octavian Monticelli (Victor), 1159 1164. De 
 Tetro Carcere ' From a foul prison.' He was 
 Cardinal Deacon of St. Nicholas-in-Carcere-Tulliano 
 (' at the Tullian Prison '). 
 
 Guy of Cremona (Paschal III.), 11641167. Via 
 Transtiberina ' The way beyond the Tiber.' He was 
 Cardinal Priest of Sta. Maria-in-Trastevere (' St. Mary- 
 beyond-the-Tiber '). 
 
 John of Struma (Kallistus III.). 11681178. De 
 Pannonia Tuscice ' From the Hungary of Tuscia/ 
 He was an Hungarian. Tuscia properly means Tuscany, 
 but in this place seems meant for Frascati (Tusculum), 
 of which he was Cardinal Bishop.
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 367 
 
 The antipope, Lando Sitino (1178), who was of no 
 historical importance, is now omitted and the regular 
 series continues. 
 
 Lucius III., 1181 1185. Lux in Ostio 'A light 
 in the gate.' The ' Lux ' seems to be a pun upon his 
 official name of Lucius, upon that of Lucca (his native 
 place), and upon that of his family (Alucignuolo). He 
 was Cardinal Bishop of Ostia, the ' gates ' (mouths) of 
 the Tiber. 
 
 Urban III., 1185 1187. Sus in Cribro 'A sow 
 in a sieve/ He was of the family of Crivelli (which 
 word signifies in Italian, ' sieves '), who have a ' cant- 
 ing ' coat of arms representing a pig in a sieve. 
 
 Gregory VIII., 1187. JEnsis Laurentii 'The sword 
 of Laurence/ The arms of his family (the Spannac- 
 chioni) are two crossed swords, and he was Cardinal 
 Priest of San Lorenzo-in-Lucina. 
 
 Clement III., 11871191. De Schola Exiet' He 
 will come out of a school/ His family name was 
 Scolare (' Scholar '). 
 
 Celestine III., 1191 1198. De Rure Bovensi 
 ' From the Cattle Country/ A pun on the name of his 
 family which was Bubone or Bouone. Bubone signifies 
 a buffalo. 
 
 Innocent III., 1198 1216. Comes Signatus 'A 
 Signed Count/ He was of the family of the Counts of 
 Segni, and Segni is Italian for ' Signs/ 
 
 Honorius III., 1216 1226. Canonicus de Latere 
 *' A canon from the side/ He had been a canon of St. 
 John Lateran. 
 
 Gregory IX., 1227 1241. Avis Ostiensis 'The 
 bird of Ostia/ His arms were an eagle, and he was 
 Bishop of Ostia.
 
 368 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 
 
 Celestine IV., 1241. Leo Sabinus 'The Sabine 
 Lion.' His arms were a lion, and he was Bishop of 
 Sabina. 
 
 Innocent IV., 1243 1254. Comes Laureniius 
 ' Count Lawrence.' He was a scion of the Counts of 
 Lavagna, and was Cardinal Priest of San Lorenzo-in- 
 Lucina. 
 
 Alexander IV., 1254 1261. Signum Ostiense 'A 
 Sign of Ostia.' He was again one of the family of the 
 Counts of Segni (' Signs ') and was Cardinal Bishop of 
 Ostia. 
 
 Urban IV., 1261 1264. Hierusalem Campanice 
 ' Jerusalem of Champagne.' He was a native of Troyes 
 in Champagne, and was Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem. 
 
 Clement IV., 1265 1268. Draco Depresms' A 
 crushed serpent.' His family arms are an eagle clutch- 
 ing a snake. 
 
 Gregory X., 1271 1276. Anguineus Vir 'The 
 Man of the Snake.' He was of the Visconti family, 
 whose arms are a serpent devouring a man. 
 
 Innocent V., 1276. Concionator Gallus ' A French 
 Preacher.' He was a French Friar Preacher. 
 
 Adrian V., 1276. Bonus Comes ' A Good Count.' 
 He was of the family of the Counts of Lavagna, and 
 his name was Ottobuono. 
 
 John XXL, 1276 1277. Piscator Tuscus 'A 
 Tuscian fisherman.' His baptismal name was Peter, 
 and he was Cardinal Bishop of Frascati (Tusculurn), 
 which here again is evidently indicated by Tuscia. 
 
 Nicolas III., 1277 1280. Rosa Composita 'A 
 Compounded Hose.' He was one of the Arsini, who 
 bear a rose gules in chief. The adjective ' Com- 
 pounded ' is more difficult to explain, but possibly 
 means ' arranged ' with other charges in the shield,
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 369 
 
 which is somewhat complicated. Others have taken 
 'Compositus' to mean 'Composed' i.e., tranquil, and 
 stated that from his imperturbable calm under trying 
 circumstances he had got to be called, in contrast to 
 the excitement of his brethren, ' the Composed Car- 
 dinal.' 
 
 Martin IV., 1281 1285. Ex telonio liliacei Martini 
 
 ' From the receipt of Custom of Martin of the lilies.' 
 
 He was treasurer of the Church of St. Martin of Tours 
 
 in France. The lilies seem to allude merely to the 
 
 lilies of the French Arms. 
 
 Honorius IV,, 1285 1287. Ex Rosa Leonina 
 ' From a Leonine Rose.' The commentators state that 
 his arms contained a lion supported on a rose, or a rose 
 supported by two lions. The commentators are pro- 
 bably right, and Italian blazonry is in such a state that 
 very considerable variants are found in different copies 
 of the arms of the same individual executed at the same 
 time ; let any one compare the arms of the present 
 Pope Leo XIII., even upon the churches of Rome. 
 This Honorius was a Crivelli, and the present writer 
 has not himself met with any copy of the arms of that 
 family exactly answering to either of the descriptions. 
 
 Nicolas IV., 1288 1292. Picus inter escas 'A 
 woodpecker among the food.' He was a native of 
 Picenum, the name of which province was derived in a 
 legendary story from Picus, a woodpecker ; escas is also 
 conjectured to be a rough pun upon the name of the 
 town of the Ascoli (in Greek, Asklon), where he was 
 born. 
 
 Celestine V., 1294. Ex eremo Celsus 'The lofty 
 one from the desert.' This is a graceful allusion to the 
 high-minded Saint who was unwillingly dragged from
 
 370 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALA.CHI. 
 
 his mountain hermitage to fill the office which he 
 resigned after five months. 
 
 Boniface VIII., 1294 1303. Ex undarum benedic- 
 tione ' From a blessing of the waves.' His name was 
 Benedict (' Blessed ') and his arms display a fesse wavy. 
 
 Benedict XI., 1303-1304. Concionator Patareus 
 ' A preacher from Patara.' He was a Friar Preacher, 
 and was called Nicolas after St. Nicolas of Myra, who 
 was a native of Patara in Lycia, and thence intituled 
 Patareus. 
 
 Clement V., 1305 1314. There is a difference of 
 readings ; some take De Fossis Aquitanicis * From 
 the ditches of Aquitaine ' ; others read* instead of 
 Fossis, Fessis ' the weary ones ' ; and others again 
 Fasciis, ' the Fesses.' The latter is probably correct, as 
 he was a native of Aquitane, and his arms were 
 argent, three bars (like narrow fesses) gules. 
 
 John XXL or XXII., 13161334. De Sutore osseo 
 ' From a bony shoemaker.' His father was a shoe- 
 maker, and their family name was d'Ossa ( 'Bones '). 
 
 Here the feeble and fleeting Antipope Peter of 
 Corvara and or Corbario (Nicolas V.) 1328 1338 
 appears as Corvus schismaticus ' a schismatical crow.' 
 The crow is undoubtedly a pun upon his designation 
 Latin corvus; Scotch corbie; French corbeau; Italian 
 corvo, &c., &c. 
 
 Benedict XIL, 13341342. Frigidus Abbas 'A 
 Cold Abbat.' He had been Abbat of Font-froide 
 (' Cold spring ') in the diocese of Beauvais. 
 
 Clement VI., 1342 1352. Ex Rosa Atrebatensi 
 1 From the Rose of Arras.' He bore six roses gules in 
 
 * The writer regrets that, not having been able to refer to the text of 
 Wion himself he has had to work upon later editions only, between which 
 there are occasional variants.
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 371 
 
 his shield, and had been originally consecrated Bishop 
 of Arras. 
 
 Innocent VI, 1352 1362. De Montibus Pam- 
 machii ' From the mountains of Pammachius.' He is 
 stated to have borne six mountains in his arms,'"" and 
 was Cardinal Priest of SS. John and Paul, antiently 
 called St. Pammachius. 
 
 Urban V., 1362 1370. Gallus Vicecomes ' A 
 French Viscount/ or rather a French Visconti. He 
 was a Frenchman, and was elected Pope while stationed 
 as Nuncio with the Visconti of Milan. 
 
 Gregory XL, 1370 1378. Nwus de Virgine forti 
 
 ' A new man from a strong virgin.' He was Cardinal 
 
 Priest of Santa Maria la Nuova (' the New ') and was 
 
 the son of the Count of Belfort, a ' stronghold,' called 
 
 Pucelle or Virgin, from having never been taken. 
 
 Urban VI,, 1378 1389. De inferno Pregnani 
 ' The Pregnani from hell.' His family name was 
 actually Pregnani, and he was born at Pandino, near 
 Naples, close to a public-house, which partly on account 
 of its ill -fame and partly of the flaming forges surround- 
 ing it, was vulgarly called inferno, ' hell.' Certainly, 
 this motto looks very like an audacious malediction upon 
 the memory of this Pope, whose extraordinary want of 
 temper and judgment were so instrumental in engen- 
 dering and aggravating the Great Schism. In some 
 editions this motto is placed after those of the three 
 rival Pontiffs, or an ti popes, of the line inaugurated by 
 the Cardinals of Anagni. Here, however, they are 
 given in chronological order, and the indications are so 
 glaring that no mistake is possible. 
 
 * So the commentators, but the present writer has not been able to find 
 his arms so represented.
 
 372 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 
 
 Robert of Cambrai (Clement VI IT. of the line of 
 Anagni) 1378 1394 De Cruce Apostolica 'From 
 the Apostolic Cross.' His arms were a cross, and he 
 was Cardinal Priest of the Twelve Apostles. 
 
 Boniface IX., 1389 1404. Ciibus de mixtione 
 ' The square of mixture.' It seems to be an allusion to 
 his arms, which were gules, a bend chequy argent and 
 azure. 
 
 Peter de Luna (Benedict XIII. of the line of 
 Anagni), 1394 1424. Luna Cosmediana ' The Moon 
 of Cosmedin.' Luna is, of course, his actual name, 
 which is also represented by a crescent in his arms. 
 He was Cardinal Deacon of Santa Maria in Cosmedin. 
 
 Innocent VII., 1404 1406. De Meliore Sidere 
 ' From a better star.' His family name was Migliorati 
 (' Bettered ') and he bore a star in his arms. 
 
 Gregory XII., 1406 1415. Nauta de ponte negro 
 ' A Sailor from a black bridge.' He was a Venetian 
 of the family of Cornaro, successively Bishop of Castello, 
 Latin Patriarch of Constantinople, Cardinal of St. 
 Mark, and Commendator of the Church of Negropont 
 (' Black-bridge '). If the ordinarily accepted derivation 
 of the word Negropont be correct, it is absolutely fatal 
 to any claim to divine inspiration on behalf of this 
 motto at anyrate. It is said that the Venetian sailors 
 hearing the inhabitants of Eubosia speak of the western 
 side of that island as being eis ton Kuripon ' on the 
 Strait' called the Euripos, imagined in the grossness of 
 their ignorance that the words were eis to Neuripon 
 and that the last word must be the Italian nero ponte 
 and relates to the remarkable bridge which unites 
 Euboeia at Chalcis to the mainland of Bo3otia. Among 
 the most illiterate inhabitants of our slums the Sisters 
 of Notre Dame du Bon Secours are commonly known
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 373 
 
 as Bone-Suckers. Supposing a divine revelation to be 
 made in the Latin language regarding these excellent 
 Sisters, it is inconceivable that they would therein be 
 described as Ossosugse or Sorores ossa sugentes. Yet 
 this is an absolutely and completely parallel case. 
 
 Peter Filargo (Alexander V. of the line of the Coun- 
 cil of Pisa), 1409-1410. Flagellum Soils 'The Scourge 
 of the Sun.' He had a rising sun in his arms. The 
 meaning of the scourge is disputed. 
 
 Balthassar Cossa (John XXIIL, of the line of Pisa), 
 1410-1419. Cervus Syren' The Stag of the Syren/ 
 The stag is said to be an allusion to his having been 
 Cardinal Deacon of St. Eustace to whom is attached a 
 legend of a cross having appeared to him between the 
 horns of a stag. The Syren refers to the antient arms 
 of the City of Naples, of which this Pope was a native. 
 
 Martin V., 1417 1431. Columna Veli auri 'The 
 pillar with the golden veil.' His name was Ottobono 
 Colonna (' Pillar ') and he was Cardinal Deacon of St. 
 George-m- Velabro, 'under the awning.' There is some 
 doubt as to the readings, some reading corona instead 
 of columna ; there is a crown over the pillar in the 
 Colonnq arms. It has also been supposed that veli auri 
 or veli aurei may be a copyist's error for Velau(v)ri, and 
 Vdau(v)ri for Velabri. If this conjecture, which seems 
 sufficiently probable, be accepted, the confusion of v and 
 1} is strongly suggestive of a Spanish copyist writing 
 from dictation. 
 
 Giles de Murios (Clement VIII. of the line of Anagni), 
 1424 1429. Schisma Barchinonium 'A Schism of 
 Barcelona.' He was a canon of Barcelona. 
 
 The momentary pretender who, under the name of 
 Benedict XIV., started a schism within a schism against 
 Munos, is not alluded to.
 
 374 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHT. 
 
 Eugene IV., 1431 1447. Lupa Ccelestina 'A 
 Coelestinian she-wolf.' He was a monk of the Cceles- 
 tinian Order, and was Bishop of Sienna, which bears a 
 she-wolf in the municipal arms. 
 
 Amadeus VIII. , Duke of Savoy, created antipope 
 by the rump of the Council of Basel, and called Felix 
 V. from the end of 1439 till the spring of 1449, is next 
 mentioned, under the motto Amator Crucis 'A lover 
 of the Cross.' The name Amator ' a lover ' is evi- 
 dently a pun on his baptismal name, Amadeus (which 
 had originally, in all probability, some such meaning as 
 ' Love-God ') and the Cross is in allusion to the well- 
 known arms of his house, the present Royal Family of 
 Italy viz., gules, a cross argent. 
 
 Nicholas V., 1447 1455. De modicitate Lunce 
 1 From the littleness of the moon.' His name was 
 Thomas Parenticelli (' Very-little-parents'), and he was 
 born at Sarzana, close to Luna (' moon') in the diocese 
 of Lucca. 
 
 Kallistus III., 1455 1458. Bos pascens 'A bull 
 browsing.' His arms are or, a bull passant gules 
 armed azure, on a mount vert. 
 
 Pius II., 1458 1464. De Capra et Albergo ' From 
 a she-goat, and a tavern.' He had been secretary suc- 
 cessively to Cardinals Capramco and Alberg&ti. 
 
 Paul II., 1464 1471. De cervo et leone 'From a 
 stag and a lion.' He was Commendator of Cervi 
 
 o 
 
 (' stags ') and Cardinal of St. Mark, whose well-known 
 symbol, the arms of the Republic of Venice, is a winged 
 lion. 
 
 Sixtus IV., 1471 1484. Piscator Minorita 'A 
 Minorite fisherman.' He was a Minorite Friar, and his 
 father was a fisherman.
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 375 
 
 Innocent VIII., 1484 1492. Precursor Sicilies 'A 
 Fore-runner from Sicily.' His name was John Baptist, 
 and he had long been stationed at the Court of the 
 King of Naples and Sicily. 
 
 Alexander VI., 1492 1503. Bos Albanus in portu 
 'An Alban bull in the Port.' His family, and con- 
 sequently his arms, were the same as those of Kallistus 
 III., and he was Cardinal Bishop, first of Alba, and 
 then of Porto. 
 
 Pius III., 1503. De Parvo homine 'From a little 
 man.' He was a scion of the Piccolomini (which may 
 be rendered from the Italian ' Little-men ') family. 
 
 Julius II., 1503 1513. Fructus Jovis jurabit 'The 
 fruit of Jupiter will help.' His arms were azure, an 
 oak-tree or. The oak is, of course, well known as the 
 tree sacred to Jupiter. 
 
 Leo X., 1513 1521. De craticula Politiana 
 ' From a Politian gridiron.' He was the son of 
 Laurence de' Medici, and the symbol of St. Lawrence is 
 a gridiron, in allusion to the bed of iron bars upon which 
 he was slowly burnt alive. He was also the disciple of 
 the famous classical scholar Politian. 
 
 Adrian VI., 1522 1523. Leo Florentinus 'A lion 
 of Florence.' The second and third quarterings of his 
 arms are a lion' rampant, and his father's baptismal 
 name was Florence. 
 
 Clement VIII, 15231534. Flos pilot 'The 
 Flower of the ball.' He also was of the Medici family, 
 whose arms are or, six torteaux in orle, that in chief 
 being azure ensigned with three fleurs-de-lys of the 
 field, the rest gules. There is a variant of this motto 
 viz., Flos pilei cegri ' The flower of the sick man's cap.' 
 The kind of cap called pileu* resembles a semisphere in 
 shape.
 
 376 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 
 
 Paul III., 1534 1549. Hyacinthus medicus 'The 
 jacinth physician/ or Hyacinthus medicorum ' The 
 jacinth of the physicians.' He was Cardinal Deacon of 
 SS. Cosmas and Damian, who were physicians. He 
 was of the Farnese family, whose arms are or, six 
 fleurs-de-lys azure, 3, 2, and 1. There seems little 
 doubt that the hyacinthus, or orange-colour, refers to 
 the golden hue of the field, although that stone is 
 usually employed only to designate the tincture tenne, 
 which is very rare, and not usually recognized in foreign 
 heraldry. The notion of blazoning by the names of 
 precious stones instead of by tinctures is in itself a com- 
 paratively late introduction. 
 
 Julius III., 1550 1555. De corona Montana 'Of 
 the mountain crown.' The tinctures of his arms vary 
 in different copies, but the charges are invariably a bend 
 charged with three triple mountains, between two 
 crowns of laurel. &< ?*>m* &** ^4^ t^/^/2 
 
 MarcellusIL, 1555. Frumentum floccidum 'Hairy 
 grain.' His arms represent a stag crouching in front 
 of five ears of grain. 
 
 Paul IV., 1555-1559. Defde Petri' Of the faith 
 of Peter.' His name was John Peter Carafa. The 
 name of Carafa is said to be derived from Cara-fides 
 (' dear faith '). 
 
 Pius IV., 1559 1565. dEsculapii pharmacum 
 ' The drug of ^Ssculapius. He had studied medicine 
 at Bologna, and was of the family of the Medici 
 (' Physicians '). 
 
 Pius V., 1566 1572. Angelus nemorosus 'A 
 woodland angel.' His baptismal name was Michael, 
 and he was born at a place called Bosco (' Wood ') in 
 the territory of Alessandria.
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 377 
 
 Gregory XII I., 1572 1585. Medium Corpus 
 pilarum 'An half body of the balls.' His arms 
 were an half-dragon, and he was created Cardinal by 
 Pius IV., who bore the usual Medici coat of six tor- 
 teaux. 
 
 Sixtus V., 1585 1590. Axis in medietate Signi 
 ' An axis in the midst of a sign.' His arms were 
 azure, a lion rampant, or holding in his dexter paw a 
 branch of <g tree proper, debruised of a bend guiles L 
 charged with a triple mountain argent surmounted by a 
 star of the last. The star is clearly the axis, and the 
 lion the sign on the midst of which it appears, as form- 
 ing part of the Zodiac, under the name of Leo. A/^A*M 
 
 Urban VII., 1590. De rare Cceli 'From the dew 
 of heaven.' He was Bishop of Rossano in Calabria, a 
 place celebrated for the collection of a sort of medicinal 
 deposit upon vegetation, locally called manna, and be- 
 lieved to fall like dew from the sky, whence the name 
 of the place, which is a corruption of the Latin Ross- 
 anum, 'healthy dew.' Wion suggests that it was 
 during the period of two months and nine days, which 
 elapsed between the death of Urban VII. and the elec- 
 tion of Gregory XIV. that these prophecies were forged, 
 and that the object of the forger was to influence the 
 Conclave in favour of the latter Pontiff. The sugges- 
 tion is not very happy. A forger would have been 
 certain to indicate clearly enough the individual to 
 whom he wished to point, an object which the next 
 motto is singularly ill adapted to serve. On the other 
 hand, De rore Cceli is strikingly clear, and if these pre- 
 dictions are forgeries with the object suggested, the 
 period of their publication is much more likely to have 
 been the interval of eighteen days which preceded the 
 election of Urban. It does not follow that, if they are
 
 378 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 
 
 forgeries, they were necessarily invented to influence 
 a Papal election, although, if so, the shortness of the 
 period is no argument against them ; they show more 
 historical research than such a short time well admits 
 of, but they might easily have been prepared as a whole 
 beforehand, and kept ready for alteration, if necessary, 
 when about to be put to use. The argument of Wion 
 was evidently drawn from internal evidence, and it 
 must be admitted that after De rore Cceli there is a 
 striking change in the character of these mottoes. It 
 will be observed that the seventy-four already given 
 are, almost without an exception, transparent indica- 
 tions of the individuals to whom they apply. In the 
 case of Pregnani the very name is given, and the over- 
 whelming majority of the others are simple puns or 
 plays upon the Christian or family name, the origin or 
 native place, the previous employment, or the coat of 
 arms, this latter being extremely frequent. The earliest 
 unquestionable example of heraldry in the world is 
 stated by Planche * to be the case of Philip I., Count 
 of Flanders, on a seal of 1164 ; and it is therefore 
 rather staggering to find apparent allusions of the kind 
 applying not only to the Pope who was reigning at that 
 time, but to one who died in 1144. Moreover, it is 
 certainly more probable than not that St. Malachi, who 
 died in 1148, had never heard of any such thing as 
 heraldry in his life, and as a science it may be safely 
 assumed to have been unknown to him. However, it 
 is not necessary to see a reference to the arms after- 
 wards borne by the Castelli family in order to fit Ex 
 Castro Tiberis to Celestine II., and if the gift of pro- 
 phecy be once granted to the composer of these predic- 
 
 * Pursuivant of Arms, pp. 8, 9.
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 379 
 
 tions, it is difficult to limit the range of his vision. It 
 would, however, be a case of double rarity, as it is 
 generally found that visions and the like phenomena 
 appear through the medium of the seer's surroundings 
 those of St. Gertrude, for instance, are instinct with 
 the style of art prevailing in the thirteenth century. 
 The curious fact of an heraldic tincture being indicated, 
 after a still more modern custom, by the name of a 
 precious stone (jacinth) has already been remarked on. 
 But the most unfavourable feature of the whole series 
 is to be found in the paganism of the phrases, Fructus 
 Jovis juvabit and dEsculapii pharmacum. They look 
 like indications of a mind so blinded by the heathenism 
 of the later Renaissance as not to perceive their extra- 
 ordinary incongruity with the alleged nature of the 
 document in which they are found. It is difficult to 
 imagine a Christian seer, acting under Divine inspiration, 
 complacently speaking of ' the drug of ^Esculapius,' 
 and still more difficult to imagine the oak-tree as desig- 
 nated under such circumstances ' the fruit of Jupiter.' 
 After De rare Cali these mottoes continue thus : 
 Ex antiquitate urbis ' From the oldness of a city.' 
 Gregory XIV., 1590 1591. Some declare that the 
 meaning is that the church of St. Cecilia, of which he 
 was Cardinal Priest, is the oldest in the city of Rome. 
 Others speak of the antiquity of his native city, Milan. 
 The former is certainly the most respectable interpreta- 
 tion; but, in fact, no prediction could be conceived more 
 vaguely safe. The nature of things renders it probable 
 that a Pope will be old when elected ; at any rate, he 
 may live to be old ; or he may come of an old family ; 
 or the antients of a city may mean its rulers, without 
 necessary reference to age ; or, as a last resource, it 
 could be held up as a striking fulfilment based on Wisd.
 
 380 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 
 
 IV. 8 : ' Worshipful old age is not by time, nor reckoned 
 by number of years ; for the understanding of a man 
 is grey hairs, and the state of old age a stainless life.' 
 
 Pia Civitas in bello ' A dutiful State in war.' 
 Innocent IX., 1591. It has been interpreted either of 
 Nicastro, of which he was Bishop ; Jerusalem, of which 
 he was titular Latin Patriarch ; or Bologna, where he 
 was born. It might as well be interpreted of Rome or 
 the Papal States, or indeed almost anywhere else for 
 instance, the troubles of some Catholic State, such as 
 Spain at the time. 
 
 Crux Romulea ' A Roman Cross.' Clement VIII., 
 1592 1605. This is interpreted of his arms, which 
 have a bend embattled on both sides, and which there- 
 fore sometimes bear a faint and distant resemblance to 
 the triple cross of the Roman Pontiffs. 
 
 Undosus vir 'A wavy man.' Leo XL, 1605. This 
 motto has given much trouble to interpreters. The 
 chief explanations are, either that he passed away 
 almost directly, as a wave does, or else that his native 
 place, Pistoia, is watered by several streams. 
 
 Gens perversa ' A crooked people.' Paul V. 1605 
 1621. This has been interpreted of his arms, which 
 contain a dragon and an eagle, symbols respectively of 
 the Guelphs and the Ghibellines. Others have found 
 an allusion to the troubles in Bohemia and Hungary ; 
 and others again have applied it as a reproach against 
 himself. 
 
 In tribulatione pacis ' In tribulation of peace/ 
 Gregory XV., 1621 1623. It is universally explained 
 of trouble taken by him as a peacemaker. 
 
 Lilium et rosa ' The lily and the rose.' Urban VIII., 
 1623 1644. Many explanations have been given 
 the feeblest being perhaps that he bore in his arms bees,
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 381 
 
 which insects feed on flowers. Others have attempted 
 political solutions, referring the lily to France, and the 
 rose to England. A third interpretation considers both 
 words to refer to the arms of Florence a fleur-de-lys, 
 gules ; since, though born in Rome, he was a Floren- 
 tine by extraction ; and so on. 
 
 Jucunditas Crucis ' The joy of the cross.' Innocent 
 X., 1644 1655. The usual explanation is that he was 
 elected on September 14, the feast of the Exaltation of 
 the Cross, but the precise day does not seem quite 
 certain. If not the Feast-day, however, it was either 
 the eve or the morrow. 
 
 Montium Gustos 'A keeper of mountains.' Alex- 
 ander VII., 1665 1667. He was a Ghiga^by family, 
 and the (rrhiga arms are gules, a mountain of six peaks, 
 surmounted by a star, or. 
 
 Sydus olorum ' A constellation of swans.' Clement 
 IX., 1667 1669. This again has been a ground of 
 dispute. Some say he occupied during the conclave a 
 chamber called the ' chamber of the swans.' Others try 
 to find something in common between his arms 
 (quarterly, azure and or, four lozenges counterchanged), 
 and the constellation Cygnus. 
 
 Deflumine magno ' From a great river.' Clement 
 X., 1670 1676. Some say he was born on a day when 
 the flooding of the Tiber entered the house, and actually 
 shook his cradle. Others connect the stars in his arms 
 (azure, within a bordure engrailed argent, six stars of 
 the last (3, 2, and 1), with the constellation Eridanus. 
 
 Bellua insatiabilis ' An insatiable beast.' Innocent 
 XL, 1676 1689. A variety of circumstances have 
 been pointed out, descending downwards to a pun of 
 the humblest class upon the avidity with which he 
 constantly sought the advice of Cardinal Cibo ('Food '),
 
 382 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 
 
 but they all seem very far-fetched. The nearest is an 
 allusion to the lion or the crowned eagle in his arms, 
 which contain both. 
 
 Pcenitentia gloriosa 'Glorious penance.' Alexander 
 VIIL, 1689-1691. His name was Peter Ottoboni, and 
 he was elected on the Feast of St. Bruno. 
 
 Rastrum in porta ' The rake at the door.' Inno- 
 cent XII., 1691-1700. He was of the family of Pigna- 
 telli of Rastello (' Hake '), at the gates of Naples. 
 
 Flores circumdati ' Flowers set round about.' Cle- 
 ment XL, 1700-1721. No interpretation seems to have 
 been devised. 
 
 De bona Religione ' From a good Religious Order.' 
 Innocent XIII., 1721-1724. The only suggestion seems 
 to be that by the bona Religio is to be understood the 
 Angelic Hierarchy. His name was Michael, and he was 
 elected on May 8, the Feast of the Appearing of St. 
 Michael. 
 
 Miles in bello ' A Soldier in war.' Benedict XIII., 
 1724-1730. It has been interpreted of his zeal. 
 
 Columna excelsa 'A lofty pillar.' Clement XII., 
 1730-1740. No solution is suggested except the high 
 rank of his family, the Corsini. 
 
 Animal rurale ' A country beast.' Benedict XIV., 
 1740-1758. No explanation seems to have been offered. 
 The expression itself is so very odd as to convey the 
 idea of a joke, in which respect it can hardly be said to 
 stand alone. 
 
 Rosa Umbrice ' A rose of Umbria.' Clement XIII., 
 1758-1769. His family was Venetian, and it has been 
 argued that the Umbrians occupied all Italy between 
 the Alps and the Appennines. 
 
 Ursus Velox ' A swift bear.' Clement XIV., 1769-
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 383 
 
 1774. Here again there is no interpretation. The re- 
 ference sometimes attributed to his arms is incorrect. 
 
 Percgrinus Apostolicus ' An Apostolic wanderer.' 
 Pius VI., 1775-1799. Here begins the series of verifi- 
 cations which have latterly been so much invoked in 
 support of the Divine character of these predictions. 
 His enforced wanderings and death in exile are well 
 known. 
 
 Aquila rapax ' An eagle carrying away.' Pius 
 VII., 1800-1823. An allusion is, of course, immediately 
 pointed out to the Imperial eagle, the arms and emblem 
 of the great Napoleon, by whom he was carried away to 
 France. 
 
 Canis et coluber ' A dog and an adder.' Leo. XII., 
 1823-1829. No solution seems to have been attempted. 
 
 Vir Religiosus 'A monk.' Pius VIII., 1829-1830. 
 Here again no interpretation has been brought forward. 
 
 De Balneis Etrurice ' From the hot baths of Tus- 
 cany.' Gregory XVL, 1831-1846. Again there is no 
 explanation. He was a Lombard. 
 
 Crux de cruce ' The cross from a cross.' Pius IX., 
 1846-1878. The late Dr. Neale* seems to have been 
 the first to interpret this motto of the arms of the 
 House of Savoy gules, a cross argent a cross which 
 was indeed a heavy cross to the late Pontiff. A cir- 
 cumstance connected with his death also excited some 
 interest in this motto. During his last moments, the 
 persons gathered in his room, and continually praying 
 for him, began to recite the Sorrowful Mysteries of the 
 Rosary. As soon as they began the Fourth, the 
 Carrying of the Cross, the Pope expired. 
 
 * Essays on Liturgiology and Church History.
 
 384 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 
 
 Lumen in ccelo ' A light in the sky.' Leo XIII. 
 His arms, like many in Italian heraldry, belong to the 
 class contemptuously termed ' signboards ' by English 
 heraldic writers. They are, in fact, little more than a 
 picture of a cypress-tree growing on a hillock, with an 
 irradiated and fiery star shining- on it from the dexter 
 
 / o 
 
 chief. It is this circumstance, following the instances of 
 Pius VI., Pius VII., and Pius IX., which has had so 
 much to do with reviving at the present day the 
 interest and half-belief in these mottoes. It will be 
 observed, however, that from Ex antiquitate urbis 
 onwards, the group of twenty-eight present but few 
 instances of clear application, Innocent XII. being 
 indeed the only one which rises to the brilliance of De 
 rore Cceli and its predecessors. The interpreters have 
 been obliged to abandon many in despair, and in the 
 case of many others their explanations are remarkable 
 for ingenuity rather than force. 
 
 There still remain nine unfulfilled predictions. 
 
 The first of these is Ignis ardens ' Burning fire.' 
 This was interpreted of the arms of the late Cardinal 
 Franchi, which bore cloven tongues of fire in the upper 
 half. It was generally believed in Rome that he 
 received a considerable number of votes in the last 
 Conclave, and that it was at his own wish that his 
 supporters transferred their suffrages to Cardinal Pecci, 
 thereby securing his election. There was also a story 
 in circulation that some prophet had declared that the 
 new Pontificate would only last one year ; and Cardinal 
 Franchi was looked on by many as the Pope of the 
 future. But Leo XIII. has survived Cardinal Franchi. 
 
 Ignis ardens is succeeded by Religio depopulate*, 
 ' Monasticism plundered/ The action of some civil 
 Governments towards the Religious Orders has certainly
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 385 
 
 not been such as to render some fulfilment of this pre 
 diction improbable. 
 
 Fides intrepida ' Faith undaunted.' This motto is 
 of such absolute vagueness that it may mean almost 
 anything. 
 
 Pastor Angelicus 'An angelic shepherd.' This will, 
 of course, be held to be fulfilled if his name should be 
 Michael or the like, or still more if his family name 
 were fortunately De Angelis, or if he were born where 
 there was a church dedicated to any angel or ever had 
 anything to do with such, etc., etc. 
 
 Pastor et nauta ' A shepherd and a sailor/ The 
 believers in these prophecies are fond of uniting this 
 with the current belief that the seat of the Papacy will 
 be some day transferred to Jerusalem. 
 
 Flosflorum ' A flower of flowers.' This would suit 
 many contingencies, such as his being of a Florentine 
 family, or the arms of his family or native place having 
 flowers as charges, or his father, mother, or other 
 kinsfolk having such names as Florence, or Rose, or 
 Hyacinth, etc., or his having had anything to do with 
 any church dedicated to Saints of such names, or any 
 place similarly marked. 
 
 De medietate lunoB ' From an half-moon.' This 
 looks like an armorial allusion. 
 
 De labore solis ' From the toil of the sun.' 
 
 Gloria olives ' The glory of the olive.' 
 
 The concluding words are striking : 
 
 ' During the last persecution of the Holy Roman 
 Church, there shall sit the Roman Peter, who shall 
 feed the sheep amid great tribulations, and when these 
 are passed, the City of Seven Hills shall be utterly 
 destroyed, and the awful judge will judge the people.' 
 ' In persecutione extrema Sanctae Romanes Ecclesiae 
 
 A 2
 
 386 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 
 
 sedebit Petrus Romanus qui pascet oves in multis 
 tribulationibus, quibus transactis, Civitas Septicollis 
 diruetur, et Judex tremendus judicabit populurn.' 
 
 It has been pointed out by Dr. Neale that the last 
 Emperor of Old Rome was Romulus Augustulus, and 
 the last Emperor of New Rome, Constantine. The 
 Kingdom of the Ten Tribes also began arid ended in a 
 Jeroboam. That ' the City of Seven Hills ' is meant 
 to indicate Old Rome is most probable, although, as has 
 not unfrequently been pointed out, the physical and 
 historical characteristics of New Rome suit the adjective 
 better. 
 
 It is, however, in the latter portion of these predic- 
 tions, and especially the closing phrase, that there lies, 
 for many, one of the strongest arguments in favour of 
 their supernatural character. 
 
 The belief has widely prevailed, and does still widely 
 prevail among Christians, that the Sabbatic system so 
 marked in Scripture will be carried out as regards the 
 Second Advent of Christ. It is believed by many that 
 as all the sacred chronology is arranged in periods of 
 six and one, so the close of the sixth millennium from 
 the date commonly called the Creation will be followed 
 by that Sabbatic millennium during which Christ will 
 reign visibly upon earth. This belief is supported by 
 the consideration that the six millenia now closing have 
 been divided into three equal portions by three great 
 events viz., the epoch called the Creation, the call of 
 Abraham, and the birth of Christ, and that the New 
 Testament especially speaks of the present as the ' last 
 time' as though meaning the last and concluding 
 third. According to this theory, the Second Advent of 
 Christ is expected about the year A.D. 1996. Now, the 
 average length of the reigns of the Popes up to the
 
 THE PROPHECIES OF ST. MALACHI. 387 
 
 present time is rather over seven years each, but until 
 1590 it was only somewhat over six years. (Since 1590, 
 however, the average has been over eleven years each. 
 The author of these prophecies therefore points almost 
 exactly to the date of 1996. 
 
 No opinion upon the claims of these mottoes has here 
 been pronounced, and the reader has, it is hoped, been 
 supplied with materials sufficient to form a judgment of 
 his own. The case may be summed up thus : These 
 so-called predictions are utterly destitute of any support 
 from external evidence ; on the contrary, every external 
 circumstance is strongly against them, beginning with 
 the silence of Bernard of Clairvaux. The internal evi- 
 dence is also very heavily against them in almost every 
 conceivable way, with two exceptions viz., their ap- 
 parently striking fulfilment in some recent cases, and, 
 in the eyes of one school, the remarkable piece of 
 chronology which has just been pointed out above.
 
 INDEX
 
 IiNDEX. 
 
 Abbe Cucherat, 361 
 
 Abbey of Kaisarian6, 115 
 
 Abreu Galindo, 64, 65 
 
 Academia Julia, 190 
 
 Acca, Bishop, 4 
 
 Adrian VI., 375 
 
 Alexander III. 364 ; IV. 368 ; V. 
 
 373 ; VI. 375 ; VII. 381 ; VIII.. 382 
 Alvino. Cavaliere Heury, 12, 27, 29. 33 
 
 Amalfi 2, 4, 21 
 
 Amalfi, Cathedral of, 5, 7, 9, et seq., 49 
 
 Ainalfi, Crypt of, 41 
 
 Ambassadors, Venetian, 232 
 
 Amfortas 343 
 
 Anastasius IV., 363 
 
 Andrew d'Asti, 26 
 
 Andrew, St., his shrine, 44 
 
 Angus, Kingof Picts, 4 
 
 A ntonio Gal vanos, 55 
 
 Aquinas, St. Thomas, 175 
 
 Archbishop Andrew de Cuncto,.... 34 
 
 Archbishop del (iiudice, 17 
 
 Archbishop Michael of Bologna, 12, 22, 
 
 25, 26, 30, 31, 33, 37, 40 
 
 Archbishop Philip Augustariccio, 16, 17 
 
 Archbishop Rossini, . 17 
 
 Artemis, 121 
 
 Athens, 113,303; Christian monu- 
 ments of, 113 
 
 Athena 121 
 
 Augustariccio. Judge John, 19 
 
 Baptist, ashes of St. John the, 2 
 
 Barbadico, Sebastian 192 
 
 Bayreuth, 330 ; Festival (18S6) 329 
 
 Bede, the Venerable, ... 4, 71 
 
 Bellarmine, Father, 226 
 
 Benedict XI. 370; XII. 370 ; XIII. 
 
 372, 382; XIV 373, 382 
 
 Bencom 96 
 
 Berchtan, James, ISO 
 
 Bergamo, 187 
 
 Bert, Paul, ... 167 
 
 Bcrtano. Signor, 176 
 
 Berthelot, M., 314 
 
 Berti, Domenico, 219 
 
 Boniface VIII. 370; IX 372 
 
 Bory de St. Vincent, 76 
 
 Bruno, Giordano, 167, ft sfq. 
 
 Brunswick, 190 
 
 Bute, Island of 258 
 
 (Cabala del Cavalla Ptgaseo 201 
 
 Camuagna 183 
 
 Campodei Fiori, 167, 232, 246 
 
 Canary Archipelago, 54, 55 
 
 Cantux CirccBU*, 180 
 
 Carmont, Rev. Dr., 222 
 
 Carriere, M., 311 
 
 Castellano, Joseph, 26 
 
 Castelneau, Michel, 171 
 
 Cardinal d'Assat, 233 
 
 Cardinal Madruccio, 244 
 
 Cardinal Peter Capuano, 4, 7, 8, 10, 
 
 11, 14 
 Celestine II. 363, 359; III. 367 ; IV. 
 
 368; V 369 
 
 Chamberi, 187 
 
 Chenerfe (Chenerife, Tenerife) 95 
 
 Chil, Dr. Gregory, ...51, 52, 53, 55, 56, 
 57, 58, 59, et seq. 
 
 Christddoulos, 265 
 
 Christian monuments of Athens,... 113 
 
 Chrysostom, St. John, 3 
 
 Chrysospeliotissa Panagia, The,.... 122 
 Church of the Holy Anargyroi, 
 265 ; of St. Andrew, 144 ; of St. 
 Anne, 161, 'J81 ; of the Assump- 
 tion, 291 ; of the Blessed Virgin, 
 265 ; of Brescia, 4 ; of St Cons- 
 tantine, 288 ; of St. George, 288 ; 
 of St. Elias, 263 ; of St. John, 
 159. 288 ; of the Holy Saviour, 
 161 ; of the Megale Panagia, 
 134 ; of SS. Michael and Gabriel, 
 115 ; of Milan, 38; St. Nicholas, 
 161, 288; of Nola, 4; of St. 
 Paraskeue, 287 ; of the Presenta- 
 tion of Our Lord, 159 ; of St. 
 Sozon, 289 ; of St. Seraphim, 
 161 ; of St. Spyridon, 155 ; of 
 St. Thekla, 290; of the Twelve 
 Apostles, 162 ; of the Virgin of 
 
 the Golden Grotto, 115 
 
 Churches, Ancient, of Athens, 120 
 
 Churches of Pattno?, 261, 276 
 
 Churches, the Seven, 254 
 
 Ciotto, John Baptist, 171, et seq. 
 
 Claudio Marrero, Rev.,... 60. 73, etseq. 
 Clement III. 367 ; IV. 368 ; V. 
 370; VI. 370; VIII. 372, 373, 
 375,380: IX. 381 ; X. 381 ; XI. 
 382 ; XII. 382 ; XIII. 382; XIV. 382
 
 392 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Constantinople, 4 
 
 Convent, Carmelite, at Frankfort, 179 
 
 Crisui, Signer, 169 
 
 Crusaders, 4 
 
 Crypt of Amalfi 41 
 
 De Anima, 188 
 
 DeCinfinito, universo, et mondi, 179 
 
 Demeter, 121 
 
 De monade numero et /iyura,... 179, 191 
 
 Deriman, 96 
 
 De. Siyillis Hermetic ft aliorum, 192 
 
 DC specientm scrutiuis et lampade 
 
 combinatoria, 180 
 
 De triplici minimo et menmtra, 191 
 
 De umbris idearum, 1 89 
 
 Desdouits, Professor 220, 241 
 
 Divine Kachmoth, 304 
 
 Dr. George Perez of Orotava,.... 51, 62 
 
 Dr. Gregory Chil, 51, 52, 53, 55, 56, 
 
 57, 58, 59, et seq. 
 
 Dominic, Father, of Nocera, 191 
 
 Don Agustin Millares, 72 
 
 Don Bernardino da Mendoza, 201 
 
 Don Manuel de Ossuna, 60 
 
 Dupanloup, M. 313 
 
 Edinburgh, 4 
 
 Elias, 121 
 
 Epinosa, 53 
 
 Eroici Furori, 171, 219 
 
 Ethelbert 4 
 
 Eugene III. 363 ; IV 374 
 
 Faillon, M., 312 
 
 Fate, Ultimate, of Giordano Bruno, 219 
 
 Felix V 374 
 
 Foscari, Aloysius, 179, 186 
 
 Frankfort, 173, 179, 180 
 
 Franz von Loeher, 76 
 
 Gaggia, Professor,... 188, 193, 203, 204 
 
 Gamier, M., 312 
 
 Gazzetta d' Italia, 242 
 
 Genoa, 2 
 
 Giordano, 182 
 
 Giordano Bruno e i suoi tempi, 167 
 
 Giordano Bruno before the Venetian 
 
 Inquisition, 167 
 
 Glas, Mr., 54, 57 
 
 Golden Grotto, The, 122 
 
 Gori, Francis, , 26 
 
 Gosselin, M., 312 
 
 Gottofrey, M., 313 
 
 Gratry, M., 299 
 
 Gregory the Great, 3 
 
 Gregory of Tours 46 
 
 Gregory VIII. 367 ; IX. 367 ; X. 
 
 368; XI. 371 ; XII. 372; XIII. 
 
 377; XIV. 379; XV. 380, 
 
 XVI... 383 
 
 Guanches, 54 
 
 Gue>in, M., 259 
 
 Guild of St. John Decollate, 247 
 
 Gurnemanz, 343 
 
 Hasdale, Martin, 234 
 
 Helios, 121 
 
 Heroic Enthusiast*,.. 172, 179, 217, 241 
 
 Honorius III. 367 ; IV 369 
 
 Hucancha, 96 
 
 Hugo, Victor, 167 
 
 Icaria, 254 
 
 II Caiidelajo, 168, 205 
 
 Innocent III. 367; IV. 368; V. 
 
 368 ; VI. 371 ; VII. 372 ; VIII. 
 
 375; IX. 380; X. 381; XI. 381; 
 
 XII. 382, 384; XIII 382 
 
 Inquisition, the Venetian, 176 
 
 Isonde, 337 
 
 Issy 310 
 
 John Capuano, Archbishop of 
 
 Amalfi, 7 
 
 John, Friar, 191 
 
 John XX. 370; XXI. 368, 370; 
 
 XXIII 373 
 
 Joseph Castellano, 26 
 
 Judge John Augustariccio, 19 
 
 Julius II. 375; III 376 
 
 KallistusIII 366, 367, 374 
 
 Kampos, Bay of, 290 
 
 Kareol, 337 
 
 Katholik6n, the, 269 
 
 Kepler, 234 
 
 Kilrighmonaigh, 4 
 
 King Mark, 337 
 
 Klepsydia, 129 
 
 Klingsor, 342 
 
 Kurneval, 337 
 
 Kundry, 342 
 
 L' Antechrist, E. Renan, 256 
 
 La,Distesa, 17 
 
 La Leyende Tragique de Jordano 
 
 Bruno, 220 
 
 Le Hir, M., 312 
 
 Leo X. 375 ; XI. 380 ; XII. 383 ; 
 
 XIII 384 
 
 Little Seminary of St. Nicholas du 
 
 Chardonnet, 307 
 
 Lohengrin, 340 
 
 Lucius II. 363; III 367 
 
 Lyons, 188 
 
 Maintz, 189 
 
 Manso III., Doge, 9, 10 
 
 Marcellus II., 376 
 
 Marchese Gaetano Ferraioli, 242 
 
 Marin y Cubas, 53
 
 INLEX. 
 
 393 
 
 Martin IV. 369 ; V 373 
 
 Martyrs, reliques of 2, 5 
 
 Mary, Rev. Fr. Prior Hippolytus, 2'J8 
 
 Maxiiniliiino Aguilar, 64 
 
 Melot, 337 
 
 Mez, 189 
 
 Michel, M., de Castelneau, 189 
 
 Minerva, Convent of, 183 
 
 Mocenigo. John, 171, ft seq. 
 
 Monastery of the Assumption of 
 
 the Blessed Virgin, 290 
 
 Monastery of St. John the Evan- 
 gelist, 265 
 
 Monte Caaaioo, 5 
 
 Monuments, Christian, of Athens, 113 
 
 Morosiui, Ser Andrew, 176, 212 
 
 Mossi, the Rev. M., 107 
 
 Mount Kynops, 263 
 
 Mount St. Elias, 263 
 
 Mount Salvato, Castle of, 341 
 
 Miiller, F. Max, 167 
 
 Naples, Bay of, 1 
 
 Naxos, 254 
 
 Nicholas III. 368 ; IV. 369 ; V. 
 
 370, 374 
 
 Nicolas da Rec o 99 
 
 Nicolas, Thomas, 58 
 
 Nola, 183. 186 
 
 Nola, Bishop of, 233 
 
 Nunez de la Pena, 66 
 
 Olier, Jean-Jacques, 310 
 
 Otho 1 115 
 
 Padua, 173, 178, 186 
 
 Pajstum, 23 
 
 Pauagia Chrysospeliotissa, 122 
 
 Pantaleon 18 
 
 Paolo Sarpi, 171, 233 
 
 Papal Nuncio, 179 
 
 Paradise, the, at Auialfi, 9, 21, 22 
 
 Paris, 313 
 
 Par*ifal, 331, 333, 340 
 
 Partheno, 125 
 
 Paschal III., 366 
 
 Pasqua, Master Ambrose, 183 
 
 Patmos, 253 
 
 Patmos, Churches of, 261 
 
 Patrai, 2 
 
 Patriarch of Venice, 179 
 
 Paul III. 376; IV. 376; V 380 
 
 Perez, Dr. George, of Orotava,.. 51, 62 
 
 Peter Anthony Sorinano, 12 
 
 Pius II. 374 ; III. 375 ; IV, 376 ; 
 V. 376 ; VI. 383, 384 ; VII. 383, 
 
 384; VIII. 383; IX 383 
 
 Phihp II. of Spain 11 
 
 Philip III. of Spain, 8 
 
 Pinault, M., 315 
 
 Pope Adrian IV. 364; V 368 
 
 Port Stauros, 262, 263 
 
 Prague 190 
 
 Previti, Da P. Luigi, S. J. Prato,.. 167 
 
 Prince Guimar, 52 
 
 Prophecies, the, of St. Malachi, 359 
 
 Pseudo-Prochorus, . . 263 
 
 Pythagoras, 1 94 
 
 Heliques, 37 
 
 Kenan, Ernest, 167, 255 
 
 Kibot, M.. Th., 167 
 
 Roman Inquisition, 224 
 
 St. Andrews, 4, 9 
 
 St. Andrew, Monastery of 4 
 
 St. Andrew, Last Resting Place of, 1 
 St. Andrew, reliques of,.. 5, 10, 44, 47 
 
 St. Bernard of ClairvauXj 362 
 
 St. James the Less, reliques of, 5 
 
 St. Jerome, 2 
 
 St. John the Evangelist, Monastery 
 
 of, 265 
 
 St. Malachi, the Prophecies of, 359 
 
 .St. Mark's at Venice, 10 
 
 St. Ronan's Well, 307 
 
 St. Saba, Monastery of, 266 
 
 St. Sulpice, 310 
 
 Salerno, Gulf cf, I 
 
 Samos, 254 
 
 Sanagua, 96 
 
 Sanctuary of the Apocalypse, 280 
 
 San Giovanni Decollate, 221 
 
 Santa Cruz, 84 
 
 Sarpi, Paola, 171,233 
 
 Savona, 1 86 
 
 Savolina, Fraulissa, 183 
 
 Scala 277 
 
 Scala, Port of, 287 
 
 Schopp, Gaspar, 225, ct stq. 
 
 Scipio Civ tella of Cilento, 8 
 
 Scottish Review, 219 
 
 Serafino, Father, of Nocera, 191 
 
 Sermons in the East, Dean Stanley's, 254 
 
 Shrine of Zeus the Saviour, 21 
 
 Sidney, Sir Philip, 171 
 
 Signer Camera,.. 10, 18 
 
 Silvestro Mirra, 40 
 
 Simeon of Syria, 18 
 
 Sir Edmund Scory, 52, 57 
 
 Sir Tristrem, 330 
 
 Sixtus, Master, of Lucca, 183 
 
 Sixtus IV. 374; V 377 
 
 Skene, Dr 3 
 
 Sormano, Peter Anthony, 12 
 
 Sorrento, 1, 6 
 
 Souvenirs, M. Renan's, 297 
 
 Souvenir* d' Enfance et de Jeuntsse, 297 
 
 Spaccio dflla Bestia trionfante, 171 
 
 Spencer, H., 167 
 
 Stanley, Dean, 254 
 
 Stoa of Hadrian, 129
 
 394 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Storin degli A nni Santi 233 
 
 Swinburne, A. (J., 167 
 
 Tenerifans, 54 
 
 Tenerife, Ancient Language of, 51 
 
 Theofilo, Fra, of Verrano,.. 183 
 
 Theseum, The, 121 
 
 Thomas Nicolas, 58 
 
 Titurel, 346 
 
 Torre-di-Nona, Prison of, 246 
 
 Toulouse, 188 
 
 Tragos, Bay of, 262 
 
 Treguier,...' 308 
 
 Trixtan uiid Ixolle 331, 333 
 
 Tristrem, 337 
 
 Turin, 186 
 
 Urban III. 367 ; IV. 368 ; V. 371 ; 
 VI. 371 ; VII. 377; VIII 380 
 
 Valena, Mark Antony, 233 
 
 Vannutelli, Fr., 266 
 
 Venetian Ambassadors 232 
 
 Venetian Inquisition, 170, 219 
 
 Venice 171. 179, 186 
 
 Vesuvius, 1 
 
 Viana, Dr., 86 
 
 Vico, Marquis of 187 
 
 Victor IV., 366 
 
 Vie,deJ4*ux '299 
 
 Viera y Clavijo, 55 
 
 Vigilantius 3 
 
 Wagner Theatre, 32% 330 
 
 VVion, Arnold, 359 
 
 Wittemberg 190 
 
 Wolfram von Eshenbach, 340 
 
 Wurzburg, 190 
 
 THE END.
 
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