Chapter XV: Part 15

Inside the cemeteries there were other erections never omitted, as, for instance, a large stone cross with florid decoration and varying in design, many of which date back to the eleventh century. After this period came into vogue a small lantern, built in the shape of a very narrow tower, like a hollow column, from twenty-six to forty feet high, the summit of which was surmounted by arcades, through which glimmered the faint light of a suspended lamp. This small building was called “the lantern of the dead” (Figs. 394–396); it was also termed a beacon (_fanal_), a lighthouse (_phare_), and a little tower (_tourniele_). These beacon-towers, intended to indicate from afar during night-time the presence of a cemetery, generally had a door somewhat above the ground, which was reached by a ladder or flight of steps.

Upon the side opposite to the door, an altar jutted out at the base of the tower. This altar was never consecrated, as the canons forbid any celebration to be held upon those which were in the open air (_sub dio_). There are many monuments of this kind in Maine, Berry, Angoumois, and Gascony; they are all of Roman architecture, or of Gothic bordering upon Roman, and, consequently, do not date back further than the eleventh century.

There was a tower of this kind in the Cemetery of the Innocents, at Paris (Fig. 397), but of larger dimensions than any of those alluded to above. It was a kind of octagon chapel, about forty feet high, and Gilbert de Metz, who speaks of it, says that he was told it was the tomb of a rich nobleman who had given orders that he himself should be buried beneath it in order to save his remains from being profaned by dogs and vagabonds.

In the fourteenth century the lanterns of the dead, instead of being isolated and inaccessible columns, were built in the form of open chapels, in which a lamp was kept constantly burning. Previous to the erection of these chapels in the cemeteries, there existed others which have often been taken for pagan temples. We know, through writings of the ninth century, that in the cemeteries of the Carlovingian abbeys there were chapels of this kind, with two stories and a crypt; that these funeral chapels were of the same shape as the ancient baptisteries, without the surroundings. They were octagonal buildings, the vaults of which rested upon the boundary-walls of the cemetery. There are still extant two belonging to the Roman epoch, one at Montmorillon, in Poitou; the other, enclosed in the citadel of Metz, was a dependency of the Abbey of St. Arnold.

Having treated of the burial-places and the funeral monuments of the different epochs of the Middle Ages, we may now go on to speak of the funeral ceremonies.

As soon as a king or a queen had breathed their last, the face was covered with wax, in order to take an impression of the features and reproduce them upon their effigies. Pending the completion of this likeness, the body was laid by the chamberlains and the gentlemen of the chamber in a leaden coffin, lined with wood and black velvet, covered with a white satin cross, and was carried by the archers of the body-guard into a richly-decorated chamber, and placed upon a bed trimmed with black cloth hangings which reached to the ground. An altar was erected in the middle of the chamber for celebrating mass while the body remained there.

When the effigy was completed it was placed in another chamber as richly decorated as the first, and around it were placed seats, or _formettes_, covered with striped cloth of gold, upon which the prelates, lords, gentlemen, and officers took their places. The state bed, upon which the effigy was laid, was furnished with a covering of cloth of gold reaching to the ground, and decorated with a bordering of ermine spotted with black, which overlapped by about two feet the covering, and was itself trimmed with Hungarian point-lace.

Fig. 395.--Beacon in the Cemetery of Antigny, Vienne (Fifteenth
Century).

Fig. 396.--Beacon in the Cemetery of Ciron, Indre (Twelfth
Century).

From the “Antiquités Monumentales” of M. de Caumont.]

The effigy was arrayed in a fine linen shirt, or chemise, trimmed at the neck and sleeves with, black silk, and over this was passed a doublet of scarlet satin, lined with taffeta of the same colour, edged with narrow gold braid. Over the doublet was a tunic of azure satin, spotted with golden fleurs-de-lis, trimmed with a silver and gold lace about four inches wide, the sleeves reaching only to the elbow. Last of all came the royal mantle of purple velvet of an azure hue, spotted with golden fleurs-de-lis, six yards long, open in front, without sleeves, lined with white satin, the ermine collar about a foot deep, the facings and the train trimmed with ermine. From the neck of the effigy hung the royal order; upon the head was a small cap of dark crimson velvet, surmounted by the crown studded with jewels. Upon the legs were buskins of cloth of gold, with bright crimson satin feet; the hands were crossed upon the chest. At the head of the bed were placed two cushions of red velvet, trimmed with embroidery; upon the one to the right lay the sceptre, which was almost the same length as the effigy, while upon that to the left was placed the hand of justice, open, the staff being about two feet and a half long. The bed, which was devoid of curtains, was surmounted by a very rich dais. Beside the head of the bed, to the right, was the chair covered with cloth of gold, with a cushion of the same material. At the foot was a stool, also covered with cloth of gold, for the silver vessel containing the holy water, and upon each side were two other seats covered with striped cloth of gold for the heralds, arrayed in their coats of mail, who presented holy water to the princes that came to view the body. The lower end of the mortuary chamber, which was just opposite the effigy, was occupied by a very richly decorated altar.

The royal effigy was laid in state for eight or ten days, during which time the ordinary service of the palace went on just the same as during the king’s lifetime. At the dinner and supper hours the table was laid by the officers, and the courses arranged by the gentlemen-in-waiting, preceded by the usher, and followed by the officers of “the king’s buttery,” who approached the table with the customary obeisances. The bread was then cut and placed ready for being handed round, the dishes were brought to the table by an usher, the maître d’hôtel, the pantler, the pages, the squire of the kitchen, and the keeper of the plate; the napkin was presented by the maître d’hôtel to the highest personage present; grace was said by a prelate or an almoner, who recited the prayers for the dead. All those who were in the habit of eating at the king’s table during his lifetime were expected to be present at each of the repasts, together with the other persons of his household, the princes, princesses, and prelates. The dishes were afterwards distributed amongst the poor.

When the effigy had been removed the embalmed body was brought into the middle of the same room, and the coffin--covered with a pall of black velvet which touched the ground, with a large cross of white satin in the centre, and on each side a scutcheon representing the arms of France--was placed upon trestles; over the whole was thrown another large pall of cloth of gold with fringes, which had also in the centre a white satin cross, and at each extremity the arms of France, but smaller than those on the under pall. The pall was trimmed with violet velvet of a fine azure, spotted with fleurs-de-lis, and bordered with ermine. At the head of the coffin was a cushion of cloth of gold, upon which lay the royal crown, with the sceptre to the right and the hand of justice to the left; at the foot there was a cross of silver-gilt, and over it a splendid dais of black velvet; upon a form stood the vessel for holy water, with a stool on each side for the two heralds arrayed in their coats of arms, _chaperons en tête_. Beside the heralds there was a bench covered with black cloth for the princes and cardinals, who were seated on it during the celebration of mass. The coffin was surrounded by a black wooden railing. At the lower end were two altars standing in close proximity to each other; that of the chief chapel for the high masses for the dead which was chanted, and that of the oratory for low masses said by the chaplain in ordinary to the late king. The nobles, several gentlemen, the officers and the body-guard, all in mourning, were present at these services. A few days previous to the interment the new sovereign repaired to the mortuary chamber, attired in a purple mantle--purple was the mourning colour for kings, as _tanné_ (brown) was that for queens--the train being borne by five princes, each wearing a hood of the same colour. The chief gentleman of the chamber presented him the cushion, on which the king knelt in prayer after making the customary reverences. Then taking the _aspersorium_ from the hands of a prelate, he sprinkled the coffin with holy water; this done he withdrew, after making the reverences usual upon such occasions.

When a king or a queen died in Paris, a procession was formed to their residence to conduct the body to the place of interment; if he died outside the city, the cortége started from Notre-Dame des Champs or St. Antoine des Champs to meet it at its arrival. This cortege was composed of the presidents and other officers of the parliament in black robes, the officers of exchequer, of taxes, and of the treasury, of the delegates, the provost of the merchants, the aldermen, and the councillors of the city, all in mourning.

Early the next morning, the twenty-four criers of the city announced the event “_en la Chambre du plaidoyé, Table de marbre, et par les rues_,” enumerating the titles and qualities of the deceased monarch in the form laid down by the Grand Council, and not by Parliament, which had refused to draw up this cry for King Henry II. (27th of July, 1559), in compliance with the request of his widow.

In the afternoon, the body was taken to the Church of Notre-Dame, in Paris, and the effigy of the king was laid upon the coffin, in order to impress yet more deeply the people who were admitted to do him homage.

By special privilege the _hanouars_, or bearers of salt, carried the coffin; but at the interment of Charles VIII. twenty gentlemen of his household volunteered to act as bearers of the body from Notre-Dame des Champs to St. Denis. At the death of Louis XII., the hanouars demanded and obtained the restoration of their privilege.

The ceremonial was altered at the funeral of Francis I. and Henry II., the body being placed in the _chariot d’armes ou de parement_, and the honours due to the body, which was in the hinder part of the procession, were paid to the effigy. The gentlemen of the chamber to Francis I., “with straps around their necks,” esteemed it an honour to bear the effigy of their late master; those who had been in the service of Henry II. only walked by the side of his effigy, holding up the pall of cloth of gold. The Parliament, which had always enjoyed the privilege of walking in front of, as well as of surrounding and following, the body and the effigy, felt annoyed at being exclusively attached to the latter, which still represented life; whereas the body, representing death, was already, so to speak, separated from the honours of royalty.

The funeral procession proceeded in the following order through the streets of Paris to the Abbey of St. Denis. First came an esquire in mourning and on foot, carrying the banner of France covered with black crape; then followed, bareheaded, the players of the hautboy, the tabor, and the fife, with their instruments reversed, and in their rear trumpeters with their bannerols flying.

After these came the _chariot d’armes_, hung with black velvet which reached to the ground, and upon it a large cross in white satin, and twenty-four shields representing the arms of France. The coach was drawn by six horses with black velvet trappings and the large white satin cross, and on the near wheeler and leader postilions in mourning and bareheaded. Around the coach were armourers and _sommeliers d’armes_, together with some members of the four mendicant orders, carrying tapers to which were affixed armorial shields. Twelve pages followed, dressed in black velvet, who rode, bareheaded, upon twelve horses, also caparisoned in black velvet with a white satin cross, each led by a footman dressed in mourning and also bareheaded.

One of the esquires of the stable carried the spurs and another the gauntlets; a third, the arms of France, in the form of an escutcheon, with the crown; a fourth bore at the end of a staff, in the form of a gallows, the coat-of-arms made of violet velvet, and studded with golden fleurs-de-lis. The first esquire, or, in his absence, the eldest, carried the royal-crested helmet.

The state charger, with his housings entirely covered with crimson velvet studded with Cyprus fleurs-de-lis of gold, was led by two esquires; and upon each side came dismounted heralds-at-arms _chaperon en tête_.

Behind the master of the horse, hooded and wearing at his side the royal sword, followed the effigy, drawn upon a car, and holding in its right hand the sceptre and in its left the hand of justice.

It was succeeded by the personage who was conducting the funeral procession, and by the first or high chamberlain, bearing the banner of France. Next to them marched the provost of the merchants and the aldermen in full dress, bearing the dais and the pall which had been used in the mortuary chamber, and which were carried at a certain distance from the effigy, so as not to prevent the latter from being seen.

Then came the princes, mounted upon small mules, the trains of their mantles being each held up by a gentleman on foot in deep mourning. After the princes were the ambassadors, dressed in mourning, but without hood; the royal knights, wearing their insignia and a mourning hood; the lords and gentlemen of the chamber; the captains of the guards and archers in mourning, with their silver-coated _hocquetons_ (a sort of jacket). Towards the middle of the sixteenth century, the prelates and almoners also followed the cortége.

In the evening a solemn service was celebrated at Notre-Dame, and another the next morning. In the afternoon of the latter day the cortége repaired in the same order to St. Denis, stopping half-way at a stone cross called the _Croix du Sien_, where the monks of the abbey came out in procession to receive the king’s body and effigy from the Archbishop of Paris, who thereupon withdrew, accompanied by his clergy. As soon as the body entered the town of St. Denis, the monks of the abbey bore the pall. In the evening the service was celebrated in the cathedral, and on the following day the body was placed, covered by the great pall of cloth of gold, in a _chapelle ardente_. The effigy was removed, and the crown, the sceptre, and the hand of justice were given to the heralds, who handed them over to three princes of the blood. The gentlemen of the king’s chamber then took charge of the body and carried it to the entrance of the vault in which it was to be interred, and into which one of the kings-at-arms descended, and in a loud voice bid the other kings-at-arms and heralds to do their duty. Thereupon they all came forward and divested themselves of their coats-of-arms. The king-at-arms standing in the vault bid five esquires bring him the spurs, gauntlets, shield, coat-of-arms, and crested headpiece; from the first _valet tranchant_ he received the fanion, and from the captains of the Swiss and the archers of the guard their insignia; the master of the horse handed him the royal sword; the high or first chamberlain, the banner of France; the grand master and all the _maîtres d’hôtel_ threw their staves into the vault; the three princes brought to him the hand of justice, the sceptre, and the crown. He then cried three times in a loud voice, “The king is dead; pray to God for his soul!” and he then added the cry, also three times repeated, “Long live the king his successor!” This cry was taken up by another herald; the trumpets sounded, and the ceremony was at an end. After this the grand master, accompanied by the prelates and knights of the royal orders, repaired to the principal _table_ of the Parliament, where the officers of the king’s household were collected, and there he broke in their presence “the magisterial staff,” telling them that they were henceforth without a master.

A similar order of proceeding was observed at the funeral of a queen, where the crowned effigy, with the royal mantle studded with fleurs-de-lis, and with the sceptre in the right hand and the hand of justice in the left, also figured in the ceremony. But in addition to the princes, the body was followed by the princesses, and by several ladies and maids-in-waiting, all of them dressed in mourning.

Isabel of Bavaria, widow of Charles VI., is the only queen of France who was not buried with the honours due to her rank; her body having been taken to Notre-Dame (1435), where the customary prayers were said, the funeral procession and the Parliament followed it to the Port St. Landri, where the coffin was placed in a boat, and taken by water to St. Denis under the escort of two clerks and a chaplain.

Under the first Merovingian dynasty, immediately on the death of the king, his body was washed, embalmed, and arrayed in the royal robes; it was then taken to the church, which was always some basilica of note previous to St. Denis being selected as the royal burying-place.

At that period the kings of the Franks assisted in person at the obsequies of the kings and queens their predecessors. Thus, Childebert and Clotaire I. accompanied the body of their mother, Clotilde, from Tours, where she died, to the Church of St. Geneviève, in Paris, where she was buried. The four sons of Clotaire brought their father’s body from Compiègne to the Abbey of St. Médard de Soissons, where it was finally laid. Louis VI. followed on foot the body of his father, Philip I., from Melun, where he died, to St. Benoît-sur-Loire, where he was interred. Philip III. helped to carry his father’s bier from the Church of Notre-Dame, in Paris, to St. Denis. The three sons of King John--Charles V., Louis, Duke of Anjou, and Philip, Duke of Burgundy--followed their father’s body to the grave; but the fourth son, John, Duke of Berri, detained as hostage in England, was unable to take part in the ceremony. Henceforward, the kings of France gave up the custom of being present at the obsequies of their predecessors and of members of the royal family. The sons of Henry II., however, with the exception of the dauphin Francis, who merely sprinkled holy water over the corpse, followed their father to the grave.

In former times, the kings of the third dynasty were present at the funerals even of their relations or friends. Joinville states that the bodies of several nobles who had been massacred in prison by the Saracens were given up to King Louis IX., who had them buried in the Church of St. John of Acre. Amongst the slain was Gautier de Brienne, whose cousin, Madame de Secte, discharged all the funeral expenses, while every knight who was present at the ceremony gave as an offering a taper and a silver denier. “The king,” says Du Tillet, “was present, and contributed a taper and a besant, which he took from the lady’s purse, out of his exceeding graciousness, for kings on funeral occasions always contributed money of their own, and not that of those who invited them.” Charles V. was present at the funeral of Jean de la Rivière, his chamberlain, in the Church of the Val des Ecoliers, Paris. Edward III. of England honoured with his presence the funeral of G. Mauny, a knight of Hainault, buried in the Carthusian monastery of London. After the sixteenth century, the sovereign merely went to sprinkle the body with holy water, but did not assist at the obsequies of great officers of his household, or of members of his family.

Funeral rites gave rise to a host of interesting and peculiar customs, which a want of space prevents us from enumerating and describing. Thus, in the southern provinces of France, it was the usage in former days to carry the dead to the place of burial upon their state-beds, which became the property of the officiating priest as a remuneration for his services.

In Paris, down to the reign of Louis XIV., it was the custom, when any personage of note died, for the “crier of the dead,” dressed in black, to go through the streets, ringing a bell and crying out, “Pray God for the dead!” This usage still exists in certain districts. Another custom, altogether of ecclesiastical origin, was that of inscribing the names of the dead upon placards, and so commending them to the prayers of the worshippers in the monasteries and churches. Upon some of these “rolls of the dead” (Fig. 407), composed of several sheets of parchment sewn together, new names were added to the old, and the good works of the deceased recorded thereon. These were the perpetual rolls. Orderic Vital, in his “Ecclesiastical History,” speaks of a long roll in the Monastery of St. Evroul, upon which were inscribed the names of monks, and of their fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters. This roll was laid upon the altar for the whole year, and only unfolded on the Jour des Morts (All Souls’ Day).

These annual rolls were sent each year from one religious house to another, to announce the names of those monks belonging to the same order who had died during the year. A separate roll was forwarded on the death of each monk, in order to obtain on his behalf the prayers of his brethren in Christ. A copy of the document was taken for each community, or perhaps the same was made to serve for all the abbeys in the diocese. The style was simple or pompous, according to the rank and position of the deceased.

With respect to the corporations and brotherhoods, the usages varied in every district and in every town. Thus, for instance, when a member of the community of criers died, in Paris, all the others were present at his funeral in the dress of their order, the body being borne by four of his colleagues. Two others followed the coffin, one having a handsome goblet (_hanap_), the other a jar filled with wine. The remainder of the company walked in front, with little bells in their hands which they kept ringing as they went along. When they came to a cross-road the procession halted, and the coffin was placed upon trestles. The crier who carried the goblet held it out to be filled by the one who had the wine, and each of the four bearers took a draught. Any looker-on, or any one who happened to be passing, was asked to share in the libation. The obsequies of the ecclesiastical body have alone preserved down to our own day a remnant of the religious pomp with which they were conducted in the Middle Ages.

To form a correct idea of the pomp of these funeral rites, and of the strange fascination which caused to be maintained, in the heart of a city, cemeteries in which whole generations of the dead lay buried together, we must divest ourselves of the positivism of the present day, and revert to the poetic spiritualism of the Middle Ages, to the consoling mysticism which then prevailed. Faith at that time reigned supreme over men’s minds, and three articles of the Apostles’ Creed, “Christ died and was buried; he descended into hell; the third day he rose again from the dead,” diffused over the mystery of death an ineffable splendour.

Dante, theologian as well as poet, divides hell into successive zones, with the degree of punishment increasing in intensity as the circles become narrower. In the first he places “Limbo,” a happy resting-place for the good who have not been baptized. Virgil, his guide, tells him: “I had not long been here when I saw a mighty Being, crowned with all the tokens of victory, come down amongst us. He took back with him to the realms of bliss our first parent; Abel, his son; Noah; Moses, the faithful lawgiver; the patriarch Abraham; King David; Israel, his father and his children; Rachel, for whom Israel made so many sacrifices, and many others. And you must know that before them no man had been saved.”[14]

This imaginative idea was very much in accordance with the popular doctrine of the Middle Ages, based upon the teaching of the Church. Hell, or the infernal regions, was divided into four parts; the deepest, the abode of the damned; above that, Limbo, in which unbaptized children found a peaceful resting-place; the third region was Purgatory, or the place of expiation for the souls which, after having been purified by temporary punishment, are destined for Heaven; lastly, and nearest to the surface, came the Limbo of the elect, the temporary abode of the pious dead, from Abel to Christ. In this latter there was supposed to be no other punishment than that of expectant captivity. It was thither that the Redeemer descended, while his body was at rest beneath the stone of the sepulchre, awaiting the moment of His resurrection. The gracious Saviour hastened to gladden these beloved spirits with the news that his blood had washed out upon the cross the decree that had so long hung upon the children of Abraham, and that they would soon be permitted to follow Him to the skies, and at last enter into the heavenly Jerusalem.

The reader has before him the graceful composition in which the painter has transferred to canvas (Fig. 406) the poem attributed to Venancius Fortunatus, the Christian poet of the seventh century. The wall of separation reared by sin falls to the ground at the approach of the Saviour; the very doors which had held the elect captive serve as a bridge for them to cross the abyss, and the spirit of evil, trodden under foot by Jesus Christ, is convulsed with frenzy as he clutches in his grasp the once fatal but now useless key. The father of the human race rushes forward with respectful eagerness towards the new Adam, who bears the victorious standard of the cross; joy, love, and gratitude animate the majestic group of elect, amongst whom are to be distinguished Eve and St. Joseph upon their knees; while Abel, Noah, Moses, Aaron, David, Judas Maccabæus, St. John the Baptist, and others, are to be recognised either by their emblems or by their garb.

In the gloomy region hard by, whence flames are shooting up, the infernal spirits are trembling with wonder and awe. A figure in the shadow of an embrasure opening into purgatory, depicts the consolation and the relief which Christ’s visit imparts to those souls whose purification is accomplished.

That which the painter here typifies to the eye, the anniversary of Christ’s burial, in the last days of the Holy Week, was brought vividly to the Christian mind in each recurring year. When the long procession of the people and the clergy wended its way to the sepulchre as the resurrection morning drew nigh, a pious dialogue was exchanged between the chanters and the crowd. It was Fortunatus’ poem which furnished the faithful with the beautiful form in which they gave utterance to their sentiments of faith. Voices repeated:--

“O Christ! Thou art the salvation, the Creator, full of goodness, and the Redeemer of the world. Only-begotten Son of the Father, Author of the life of the world, Thou didst allow thyself to be buried; Thou hast trodden the pathway of death to give us the blessings of salvation.

“The gates of hell have fallen before their Master, and chaos has been seized with terror at the inrush of light.

“Deliver the imprisoned souls from the captivity of hell, and make to ascend on high all those who have gone down into the abyss.

“Thou snatchest from the dungeon of death a teeming host which, when set free, follows in the footsteps of its deliverer.

“O holy King! the radiant splendour of Thy triumph shines forth when the purified souls emerge from the sacred bath of purgatory. They, resplendent in their newly-acquired liberty, array themselves in robes of innocence, and the Shepherd contemplates with joy His flock, made white as snow.”

This divine triumph, which the artist has so vividly depicted, and of which the poet sings with such enthusiasm, was brought home to every Christian by the aid of the imagination under the guidance of faith. Nurtured in the doctrine of the Holy Scriptures, the people had got to be familiar with the wholesome teaching of St. Paul, when he so eloquently drew a comparison between the seed sown in the ground and the corruptible body of the Christian changed into the incorruptible. All men at that time steadfastly believed in the truth of those sublime words: “The body is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption: it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power: it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.”

These thoughts, which softened the sense of sorrow at death in the days of deep religious faith, have been beautifully expressed by the great painter of the Middle Ages, so fitly named Angelico. In his splendid picture, “The Last Judgment,” the grouping of the elect is a _chef-d’œuvre_ of Christian art. The green grass, the flowers springing up on all sides, bring before the mind the resurrection, and the elevated spiritualism of the faces which are depicted in this exquisite scene carries the imagination into an ideal world. Man, with the belief in a life to come, looked on death but as a sleep stealing over the traveller, wearied with his pilgrimage towards the heavenly country. The place of burial became the _place of sleep_ (which is the meaning of the word _cemetery_). The corruption of the tomb was rendered poetical by comparing it to the corruption of the seed, which decomposed only to be quickened and to develop into a verdant stem, branching out into sweet-scented and graceful flowers. The fear of yielding to the lusts of the flesh drove the faithful into the extreme rigour of penance, but, when death had dispelled all danger, the body became an object of pious worship: it was encompassed with floods of light and clouds of incense before being committed to the earth, which had been blessed and consecrated to make it a fitting receptacle for so precious a deposit--for faith saw in imagination the splendour with which it would one day be clothed; and, to help the imagination, art placed before the gaze the ineffable visions of the Apocalypse.

Van Eyck has allegorically treated this great subject of the Resurrection (Fig. 408), with as much approach to what the Church believes to be the truth, and perhaps as artistically, as the painter of Fiesole. Amidst a landscape flooded with light, bright with verdure and flowers, the Mystic Lamb, standing upon an altar and shedding his exhaustless blood into the chalice, is being greeted with homage and hymns of praise by the celestial host. Upon the front of the altar is the inscription, “Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world” (_Ecce Agnus Dei, qui tollet peccata mundi_). Around the altar, angels form a circle; two of them are scattering incense over the Lamb, while twelve others, six on each side, are bearing the instruments of the passion, and singing the praises of the Divine Victim. In front of the altar, in the foreground, bubbles up a fountain, which, in the language of the Apocalypse, is thus described, “The Lamb shall be their shepherd, He shall lead them to fountains of living water, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.” M. Alfred Michiels, in his “Histoire de la Peinture Flamande,” declares that “no allegory has ever been painted with greater skill.”

Four groups of worshippers are artistically represented amidst verdure and flowers. Above, on the left side, the holy martyrs are plainly recognised by the palms in their hands; and foremost amongst these stand the popes, nearly all of whom, in the early ages, sealed with their blood their testimony to the divinity of the Lamb. Opposite to them are the countless virgins who have claimed to be admitted to the mystic marriage; and below them stand a host of nuns, popes, and bishops adoring the Celestial Victim, and celebrating His praises. Upon the other side of the fountain is the not less numerous phalanx of Old Testament prophets, kings, and illustrious men, whose presence completes the harmonious whole of this admirable composition. The two figures standing out in the midst of this group are supposed by many critics to represent Virgil and Dante. The white robe, the laurel crown, and the bough with the golden apples seem, in fact, to point pretty clearly to Dante’s guide in purgatory; but it is difficult to believe that a painter, who is in other respects the model of pious orthodoxy, should be guilty of so gross a breach of propriety.

In the distant horizon, churches with their graceful towers and spires form a connecting link between heaven and earth. They seem to remind us that it is amidst the notes of sacred music and the splendours of religious worship, and, above all, by partaking of the mystic banquet of the Lamb invisible but yet present, that the soul, as it receives the earnest of the life to come, is enraptured with a prelusive glimpse of the celestial glories.

The dominant idea in this Flemish masterpiece is but the expression of those mysterious words which connect the thought of the grave with the vision of eternal bliss: “Christ is the first-born from the dead.” He is our elder brother in that new life where the bitterness of mourning and the sorrow of separation are unknown. At the archangel’s voice, at the blast of the trumpet, the dead bodies of those whom we have loved shall rise radiant from the earth, within whose bosom they laid in calm repose, awaiting the morning of the resurrection. They shall appear, having put on glory and immortality, conformed to the divine image of Christ their divine brother, their Risen Lord.

PRINTED BY VIRTUE AND CO., LIMITED, CITY ROAD, LONDON.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] “Neither the bishop nor the emperor can impose upon me any tax or tribute, nor have they the power to call out the militia, except for the protection and defence of the town, and then only from cockcrow to nightfall.”

[2] “Arrivez, ou je vous brûlerai!”

[3] “Dressed like ragamuffins, with puffed trunk hose; some going barelegged with their stockings hanging to their girdle; singing as they trudge along to lighten the toil of the road.”

[4] Large-sided.

[5] Poop Guard.

[6] The principal galley of the squadron.

[7] “God wills it.”

[8] Much glory.

[9] “It happened that the king was seized with a serious illness, and was brought so low that one of the ladies who was tending him, thinking that he was dead, wished to cover his face with a cloth; while at the other side of his bed was another lady who would not permit it. But it fell out that the Lord worked within him and restored him his speech, so that the good king asked for the cross to be brought to him, which was done. And when the good lady, his mother, learned that he had recovered his speech, she was overcome with joy, but when she saw that he had assumed the cross, she was as much grieved as if she had seen him a corpse.”

[10] The investiture of knighthood.

[11] This was the night-watch kept over his armour by the candidate for admission to the order of knighthood.

[12] “Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to thy name ascribe the glory.”

[13] Bossuet’s “Histoire Universelle,” p. 101, Firmin-Didot edition.

[14] From Dante’s “Divine Comedy,” p. 15 in the French translation by Artaud de Montor.

Transcriber’s Notes:

1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been corrected silently.

2. Where hyphenation is in doubt, it has been retained as in the original.

3. Some hyphenated and non-hyphenated versions of the same words have been retained as in the original.

4. Italics are shown as _xxx_.

5. In the Table of Illustrations, the page number for "Adoration of the Lamb" has been changed to "Frontispiece" and the image for "The Judgment Day" has been added under "J".