The fact is, so abstract a conception as the highest theological conception of God cannot be realised except symbolically20, and then for a few moments only, in complete isolation22. The moment God is definitely thought of in connexion with any cosmic activity, still more in connexion with any human need, he is inevitably23 thought of on human analogies, and more or less completely anthropomorphised in the brain of the believer. Being by origin an offshoot of the mind of man, a great deified human being, he retains necessarily still, for all save a few very mystical or ontological souls, the obvious marks of his ultimate descent from a ghost or spirit. Indeed, on the mental as opposed to the bodily side, he does so for us all; since even theologians freely ascribe to him such human feelings as love, affection, a sense of justice, a spirit of mercy, of truth, of wisdom: knowledge, will, the powers of intellect, all the essential and fundamental human faculties24 and emotions.
Thus, far as we seem to have travelled from our base in the most exalted26 concepts of God, we are nearer to it still than most of us imagine. Moreover, in spite of this height to which the highest minds have raised their idea of the Deity, as the creator, sustainer, and mover of the universe, every religion, however monotheistic, still continues to make new minor27 gods for itself out of the dead as they die, and to worship these gods with even more assiduous worship than it bestows28 upon the great God of Christendom or the great gods of the central pantheon. And the Christian religion makes such minor deities29 no less than all 411others. The fact is, the religious emotion takes its origin from the affection and regard felt for the dead by survivors30, mingled31 with the hope and belief that they may be of some use or advantage, temporal or spiritual, to those who call upon them; and these primitive faiths and feelings remain so ingrained in the very core of humanity that even the most abstract of all religions, like the Protestant schism32, cannot wholly choke them, while recrudescences of the original creed33 and custom spring up from time to time in the form of spiritualism, theosophy, and other vague types of simple ghost-worship.
Most advanced religions, however, and especially Christianity in its central, true, and main form of Catholicism, have found it necessary to keep renewing from time to time the stock of minor gods—here arbitrarily known as saints—much as the older religions found it always necessary from year to year to renew the foundation-gods, the corn and wine gods, and the other special deities of the manufactured order, by a constant supply of theanthropic victims. What I wish more particularly to point out here, however, is that the vast majority of places of worship all the world over are still erected34, as at the very beginning, above the body of a dead man or woman; that the chief objects of worship in every shrine35 are still, as always, such cherished bodies of dead men and women; and that the primitive connexion of Religion with Death has never for a moment been practically severed36 in the greater part of the world,—not even in Protestant England and America.
Mr. William Simpson was one of the first persons to point out this curious underlying connexion between churches, temples, mosques37, or topes, and a tomb or monument. He has proved his point in a very full manner, and I would refer the reader who wishes to pursue this branch of the subject at length to his interesting monographs39. In this work, I will confine my attention mainly to the continued presence of this death-element in Christianity; but by way of illustration, I will preface my remarks 412by a few stray instances picked up at random40 from the neighbouring and interesting field of Islam.
There is no religion in all the world which professes41 to be more purely42 monotheistic in character than Mohammedanism. The unity43 of God, in the very strictest sense, is the one dogma round which the entire creed of Islam centres. More than any other cult25, it represents itself as a distinct reaction against the polytheism and superstition44 of surrounding faiths. The isolation of Allah is its one great dogma. If, therefore, we find even in this most monotheistic of existing religious systems a large element of practically polytheistic survival—if we find that even here the Worship of the Dead remains45, as a chief component46 in religious practice, if not in religious theory, we shall be fairly entitled to conclude, I think, that such constituents47 are indeed of the very essence of religious thinking, and we shall be greatly strengthened in the conclusions at which we previously48 arrived as to a belief in immortality49 or continued life of the dead being in fact the core and basis of worship and of deity.
Some eight or ten years since, when I first came practically into connexion with Islam in Algeria and Egypt, I was immediately struck by the wide prevalence among the Mahommedan population of forms of worship for which I was little prepared by anything I had previously read or heard as to the nature and practice of that exclusive and ostentatiously monotheistic faith. Two points, indeed, forcibly strike any visitor who for the first time has the opportunity of observing a Mahommedan community in its native surroundings. The first is the universal habit on the part of the women of visiting the cemeteries52 and mourning or praying over the graves of their relations on Friday, the sacred day of Islam. The second is the frequency of Koubbas, or little whitewashed53 mosque38-tombs erected over the remains of Marabouts, fakeers, or local saints, which form the real centres for the religion and worship of every village. Islam, in practice, is a religion 413of pilgrimages to the tombs of the dead. In Algeria, every hillside is dotted over with these picturesque54 little whitewashed domes55, each overshadowed by its sacred date-palm, each surrounded by its small walled enclosure or temenos of prickly pear or agave, and each attended by its local ministrant, who takes charge of the tomb and of the alms of the faithful. Holy body, sacred stone, tree, well, and priest—not an element of the original cult of the dead is lacking. Numerous pilgrimages are made to these koubbas by the devout56: and on Friday evenings the little courtyards are almost invariably thronged57 by a crowd of eager and devoted58 worshippers. Within, the bones of the holy man lie preserved in a frame hung about with rosaries, pictures, and other oblations of his ardent59 disciples60, exactly as in the case of Roman Catholic chapels61. The saint, in fact, is quite as much an institution of monotheistic Islam as of any other religion with which I am practically acquainted.
These two peculiarities64 of the cult of Islam strike a stranger immediately on the most casual visit. When he comes to look at the matter more closely, however, he finds also that most of the larger mosques in the principal towns are themselves similarly built to contain and enshrine the bones of saintly personages, more or less revered65 in their immediate51 neighbourhood. Some of these are indeed so holy that their bones have been duplicated exactly like the wood of the true cross, and two tombs have been built in separate places where the whole or a portion of the supposed remains are said to be buried. I will only specify66 as instances of such holy tombs the sacred city of Kerouan in Tunisia, which ranks second to Mecca and Medina alone in the opinion of all devout western Mohammedans. Here, the most revered building is the shrine of “The Companion of the Prophet,” who lies within a catafalque covered with palls68 of black velvet69 and silver—as funereal70 a monument as is known to me anywhere. Close by stands the catafalque of an Indian saint while 414other holy tomb-mosques abound71 in the city. In Algiers town, the holiest place is similarly the mosque-tomb of Sidi Abd-er-Rahman, which contains the shrine and body of that saint, who died in 1471. Around him, so as to share his sacred burial-place (like the Egyptians who wished to be interred72 with Osiris), lie the bodies of several Deys and Pashas. Lights are kept constantly burning at the saint’s tomb, which is hung with variously-coloured drapery, after the old Semitic fashion, while banners and ostrich-eggs, the gifts of the faithful, dangle73 ostentatiously round it from the decorated ceiling. Still more sacred in its way is the venerable shrine of Sidi Okba near Biskra, one of the most ancient places of worship in the Mahommedan world. The tomb of the great saint stands in a chantry, screened off from the noble mosque which forms the ante-chamber, and is hung round with silk and other dainty offerings. On the front an inscription74 in very early Cufic characters informs us that “This is the tomb of Okba, son of Nafa: May Allah have mercy upon him.” The mosque is a famous place of pilgrimage, and a belief obtains that when the Sidi is rightly invoked75, a certain minaret76 in its front will nod in acceptance of the chosen worshipper. I could multiply instances indefinitely, but refrain on purpose. All the chief mosques at Tlem莽en, Constantine, and the other leading North African towns similarly gather over the bodies of saints or marabouts, who are invoked in prayer, and to whom every act of worship is offered.
All over Islam we get such holy grave-mosques. The tomb of the Prophet at Medina heads the list: with the equally holy tomb of his daughter Fatima. Among the Shiahs, Ali’s grave at Nejef and Hoseyn’s grave at Kerbela are as sacred as that of the Prophet at Medina. The shrines77 of the Imams are much adored in Persia. The graves of the peers in India, the Ziarets of the fakeers in Afghanistan, show the same tendency. In Palestine, says Major 415Conder, worship at the tombs of local saints “represents the real religion of the peasant.”
I had originally intended, indeed, to include in this work a special chapter on these survivals in Islam, a vast number of which I have collected in various places; but my book has already swelled78 to so much larger dimensions than I had originally contemplated79 that I am compelled reluctantly to forego this disquisition.
One word, however, must be given to Egypt, where the cult of the dead was always so marked a feature in the developed religion, and where neither Christianity nor Islam has been able to obscure this primitive tendency. Nothing is more noticeable in the Nile Valley than the extraordinary way in which the habits and ideas as to burial and the preservation80 of the dead have survived in spite of the double and rapid alteration81 in religious theory. At Sak-karah and Thebes, one is familiar with the streets and houses of tombs, regularly laid out so as to form in the strictest sense a true Necropolis, or city of the dead. Just outside Cairo, on the edge of the desert, a precisely82 similar modern Necropolis exists to this day, regularly planned in streets and quarters, with the tomb of each family standing83 in its own courtyard or enclosure, and often very closely resembling the common round-roofed or domed84 Egyptian houses. In this town of dead bodies, every distinction of rank and wealth may now be observed. The rich are buried under splendid mausolea of great architectural pretensions85; the poor occupy humble86 tombs just raised above the surface of the desert, and marked at head and foot with rough and simple Egyptian tombstones. Still, the entire aspect of such a cemetery87 is the aspect of a town. In northern climates, the dead sleep their last sleep under grassy88 little tumuli, wholly unlike the streets of a city: in Egypt, to this day, the dead occupy, as in life, whole lanes and alleys89 of eternal houses. Even the spirit which produced the Pyramids and the Tombs of the Kings is conspicuous90 in modern or mediaeval Cairo in 416the taste which begot91 those vast domed mosques known as the Tombs of the Khalifs and the Tombs of the Mamelooks. Whatever is biggest in the neighbourhood of ancient Memphis turns out on examination to be the last resting-place of a Dead Man, and a place of worship.
Almost every one of the great mosques of Cairo is either a tomb built for himself by a ruler—and this is the more frequent case—or else the holy shrine of some saint of Islam. It is characteristic of Egypt, however, where king and god have always been so closely combined, that while elsewhere the mosque is usually the prayer-tomb of a holy man, in Cairo it is usually the memorial-temple of a Sultan, an Emeer, a viceroy, or a Khedive. It is interesting to find, too, after all we have seen as to the special sanctity of the oracular head, that perhaps the holiest of all these mosques contains the head of Hoseyn, the grandson of the Prophet. A ceremonial washing is particularly mentioned in the story of its translation. The mosque of Sultan Hassan, with its splendid mausolem, is a peculiarly fine example of the temple-tombs of Cairo.
I will not linger any longer, however, in the precincts of Islam, further than to mention the significant fact that the great central object of worship for the Mahommedan world is the Kaaba at Mecca, which itself, as Mr. William Simpson long ago pointed92 out, bears obvious traces of being at once a tomb and a sacred altar-stone. Sir Richard Burton’s original sketch93 of this mystic object shows it as a square and undecorated temple-tomb, covered throughout with a tasselled black pall67—a most funereal object—the so-called “sacred carpet.” It is, in point of fact, a simple catafalque. As the Kaaba was adopted direct by Mohammad from the early Semitic heathenism of Arabia, and as it must always have been treated with the same respect, I do not think we can avoid the obvious conclusion that this very ancient tomb has been funereally94 draped in the self-same manner, like those of Biskra, Algiers, and Kerouan, from the time of its first erection. 417This case thus throws light on the draping of the ashera, as do also the many-coloured draperies and hangings of saints’ catafalques in Algeria and Tunis.
Nor can I resist a passing mention of the Moharram festival, which is said to be the commemoration of the death of Hoseyn, the son of Ali (whose holy head is preserved at Cairo). This is a rude piece of acting95, in which the events supposed to be connected with the death of Hoseyn are graphically96 represented; and it ends with a sacred Adonis-like or Osiris-like procession, in which the body of the saint is carried and mourned over. The funeral is the grand part of the performance; catafalques are constructed for the holy corpse4, covered with green and gold tinsel—the green being obviously a last reminiscence of the god of vegetation. In Bombay, after the dead body and shrine have been carried through the streets amid weeping and wailing98, they are finally thrown into the sea, like King Carnival99. I think we need hardly doubt that here we have an evanescent relic100 of the rites101 of the corn-god, ending in a rain-charm, and very closely resembling those of Adonis and Osiris.
But if in Islam the great objects of worship are the Kaaba tomb at Mecca and the Tomb of the Prophet at Medina, so the most holy spot in the world for Christendom is—the Holy Sepulchre. It was for possession of that most sacred place of pilgrimage that Christians102 fought Moslems through the middle ages; and it is there that while faith in the human Christ was strong and vigorous the vast majority of the most meritorious103 pilgrimages continued to be directed. To worship at the tomb of the risen Redeemer was the highest hope of the devout medi忙val Christian. Imitations of the Holy Sepulchre occur in abundance all over Europe: one exists at S. Stefano in Bologna; another, due to the genius of Alberti, is well known in the Ruccellai chapel62 at Florence. I need hardly recall the Sacro Monte at Varallo.
For the most part, however, in Christendom, and especially 418in those parts of Christendom remote from Palestine, men contented104 themselves with nearer and more domestic saints. From a very early date we see in the catacombs the growth of this practice of offering up prayer by (or to) the bodies of the Dead who slept in Christ. A chapel or capella, as Dean Burgon has pointed out, meant originally an arched sepulchre in the walls of the catacombs, at which prayer was afterwards habitually105 made: and above-ground chapels were modelled, later on, upon the pattern of these ancient underground shrines. I have alluded106 briefly107 in my second chapter to the probable origin of the cruciform church from two galleries of the catacombs crossing one another at right angles; the High Altar stands there over the body or relics108 of a Dead Saint; and the chapels represent other minor tombs grouped like niches109 in the catacombs around it. A chapel is thus, as Mr. Herbert Spencer phrases it, “a tomb within a tomb”; and a great cathedral is a serried110 set of such cumulative111 tombs, one built beside the other. Sometimes the chapels are actual graves, sometimes they are cenotaphs; but the connexion with death is always equally evident. On this subject, I would refer the reader again to Mr. Spencer’s pages.
So long as Christianity was proscribed112 at Rome and throughout the empire, the worship of the dead must have gone on only silently, and must have centred in the catacombs or by the graves of saints and martyrs113—the last-named being practically mere16 Christian successors of the willing victims of earlier religions. “To be counted worthy115 to suffer” was the heart’s desire of every earnest Christian—as it still is among fresh and living sects116 like the Salvation117 Army; and the creed of self-sacrifice, whose very name betrays its human-victim origin, was all but universal. When Christianity had triumphed, however, and gained not only official recognition but official honour, the cult of the martyrs and the other faithful dead became with Christian Rome a perfect passion. The Holy Innocents, 419St. Stephen Protomartyr, the nameless martyrs of the Ten Persecutions, together with Poly carp, Vivia Perp茅tua, F茅licitas, Ignatius and all the rest, came to receive from the church a form of veneration118 which only the nice distinctions of the theological mind could enable us to discriminate119 from actual worship. The great procession of the slain120 for Christ in the mosaics121 of Sant’ Apollinare Nuovo at Ravenna gives a good comprehensive list of the more important of these earliest saints (at least for Aryan worshippers) headed by St. Martin, St. Clement122, St. Justin, St. Lawrence, and St. Hippolytus. Later on came the more mythical123 and poetic124 figures, derived125 apparently from heathen gods—St. Catharine, St. Barbara, St. George, St. Christopher. These form as they go a perfect new pantheon, circling round the figures of Christ himself, and his mother the Madonna, who grows quickly in turn, by absorption of Isis, Astarte, and Artemis, into the Queen of Heaven.
The love-feasts or agapo of the early Christians were usually held, in the catacombs or elsewhere, above the bodies of the martyrs. Subsequently, the remains of the sainted dead were transferred to lordly churches without, like Sant’ Agnese and San Paolo, where they were deposited under the altar or sacred stone thus consecrated126, from whose top the body and blood of Christ was distributed in the Eucharist. As early as the fourth century, we know that no church was complete without some such relic; and the passion for martyrs spread so greatly from that period onward128 that at one time no less than 2300 corpses of holy men together were buried at S. Prassede. It is only in Rome itself that the full importance of this martyr114-worship can now be sufficiently129 understood, or the large part which it played in the development of Christianity adequately recognised. Perhaps the easiest way for the Protestant reader to put himself in touch with this side of the subject is to peruse130 the very interesting and graphic97 420account given in the second volume of Mrs. Jameson’s Sacred and Legendary131 Art.
I have room for a few illustrative examples only.
When St. Ambrose founded his new church at Milan, he wished to consecrate127 it with some holy relics. In a vision, he beheld132 two young men in shining clothes, and it was revealed to him that these were holy martyrs whose bodies lay near the spot where he lived in the city. He dug for them, accordingly, and found two bodies, which proved to be those of two saints, Gervasius and Protasius, who had suffered for the faith in the reign133 of Nero. They were installed in the new basilica Ambrose had built at Milan. Churches in their honour now exist all over Christendom, the best known being those at Venice and Paris.
The body of St. Agnes, saint and martyr, who is always represented with that familiar emblem134, the lamb which she duplicates, lies in a sarcophagus under the High Altar of Sant’ Agnese beyond the Porta Pia, where a basilica was erected over the remains by Constantine the Great, only a few years after the martyrdom of the saint. The body of St. Cecilia lies similarly in the church of Santa Cecilia in Trastevere. In this last-named case, the original house where Cecilia was put to death is said to have been consecrated as a place of worship, after the very early savage135 fashion, the room where she suffered possessing especial sanctity. Pope Symmachus held a council there in the year 500. This earliest church having fallen into ruins during the troubles of the barbarians136, Pope Paschal I., the great patron of relic-hunting, built a new one in honour of the saint in the ninth century. While engaged in the work, he had a dream (of a common pattern), when Cecilia appeared to him and showed him the place in which she lay buried. Search was made, and the body was found in the catacombs of St. Calixtus, wrapped in a shroud137 of gold tissue, while at her feet lay a linen138 cloth dipped in the sacred blood of her martyrdom. Near her were deposited the remains of Valerian, Tiburtius, and Maximus, 421all of whom are more or less mixed up in her legend. The body was removed to the existing church, the little room where the saint died being preserved as a chapel. In the sixteenth century, the sacred building was again repaired and restored in the atrocious taste of the time; and the sarcophagus was opened before the eyes of several prelates, including Cardinal139 Baronius. The body was found entire, and was then replaced in the silver shrine in which it still reposes141. Almost every church in Rome has thus its entire body of a patron saint, oftenest a martyr of the early persecutions.
In many similar cases, immense importance is attached to the fact that the body remains, as the phrase goes, “uncorrupted”; and I may mention in this connexion that in the frequent representations of the Raising of Lazarus, which occur as “emblems of the resurrection” in the catacombs, the body of Lazarus is represented as a mummy, often enclosed in what seems to be a mummy-case. Indeed, it is most reminiscent of the Egyptian Osiris images.
I pass on to other and more interesting instances of survival in corpse-worship.
The great central temple of the Catholic Church is St. Peter’s at Rome. The very body of the crucified saint lies enshrined under the high altar, in a sarcophagus brought from the catacomb near S. Sebastiano. Upon this Rock, St. Peter’s and the Catholic Church are founded. Ana-cletus, the successor of Clement, built a monument over the bones of the blessed Peter; and if Peter be a historical person at all, I see no reason to doubt that his veritable body actually lies there. St. Paul shares with him in the same shrine; but only half the two corpses now repose140 within the stately Confessio in the Sacristy of the papal basilica: the other portion of St. Peter consecrates142 the Lateran; the other portion of St. Paul gives sanctity to San Paolo fuori le Mura.
Other much venerated143 bodies at Rome are those of the Quattro Coronati, in the church of that name; S. Praxedis 422and St. Pudentiana in their respective churches; St. Cosmo and St. Damian; and many more too numerous to mention. Several of the Roman churches, like San Clemente, stand upon the site of the house of the saint to whom they are dedicated145, or whose body they preserve, thus recalling the early New Guinea practice. Others occupy the site of his alleged146 martyrdom, or enclose the pillar to which he was fastened. The legends of all these Roman saints are full of significant echoes of paganism. The visitor to Rome who goes the round of the churches and catacombs with an unprejudiced mind must be astonished to find how sites, myths, and ceremonies recall at every step familiar heathen holy places or stories. In the single church of San Zaccaria at Venice, again, I found the bodies of St. Zacharias (father of John the Baptist), St. Sabina, St. Tarasius, Sts. Nereus and Achilles, and many other saints too numerous to mention.
How great importance was attached to the possession of the actual corpse or mummy of a saint we see exceptionally well indeed in this case of Venice. The bringing of the corpse or mummy of St. Mark from Alexandria to the lagoons147 was long considered the most important event in the history of the Republic; the church in which it was housed is the noblest in Christendom, and contains an endless series of records of the connexion of St. Mark with the city and people that so royally received him. The soul, as one may see in Tintoret’s famous picture, flitted over sea with the body to Venice, warned the sailors of danger by the way, and ever after protected the hospitable148 Republic in all its enterprises. One must have lived long in the city of the Lagoons and drunk in its very spirit in order to know how absolutely it identified itself with the Evangelist its patron. “Pax tibi, Marce, evangelista metis,” is the motto on its buildings. The lion of St. Mark stood high in the Piazzetta to be seen of all; he recurs149 in every detail of sculpture or painting in the Doges’ Palace and the public edifices150 of the city. The body that lay 423under the pall of gold in the great church of the Piazza151 was a veritable Palladium, a very present help in time of trouble. It was no mere sentiment or fancy to the Venetians; they knew that they possessed152 in their own soil, and under their own church domes, the body and soul of the second of the evangelists.
Nor was that the only important helper that Venice could boast. She contained also the body of St. George at San Giorgio Maggiore, and the body of St. Nicholas at San Niccolo di Lido. The beautiful legend of the Doge and the Fisherman (immortalised for us by the pencil of Paris Bordone in one of the noblest pictures the world has ever seen) tells us how the three great guardian153 saints, St. Mark, St. George, and St. Nicholas, took a gondola154 one day from their respective churches, and rowed out to sea amid a raging storm to circumvent155 the demons156 who were coming in a tempest to overwhelm Venice. A fourth saint, of far later date, whom the Venetians also carried off by guile157, was St. Roch of Montpelier. This holy man was a very great sanitary158 precaution against the plague, to which the city was much exposed through its eastern commerce. So the men of Venice simply stole the body by fraud from Montpelier, and built in its honour the exquisite159 church and Scuola di San Rocco, the great museum of the art of Tintoret. The fact that mere possession of the holy body counts in itself for much could not be better shown than by these forcible abductions.
The corpse of St. Nicholas, who was a highly revered bishop160 of Myra in Lycia, lies, as I said, under the high altar of San Niccolo di Lido at Venice. But another and more authentic161 body of the same great saint, the patron of sailors and likewise of schoolboys, lies also under the high altar of the magnificent basilica of San Nicola at Bari, from which circumstance the holy bishop is generally known as St. Nicolas of Bari. A miraculous162 fluid, the Manna di Bari, highly prized by the pious163, exudes164 from the remains. A gorgeous cathedral rises over the sepulchre. 424Such emulous duplication of bodies and relics is extremely common, both in Christendom and in Islam.
I have made a point of visiting the shrines of a vast number of leading saints in various parts of Italy; and could devote a volume to their points of interest. The corpse of St. Augustine, for example, lies at Pavia in a glorious ark, one of the most sumptuous165 monuments ever erected by the skill of man, as well as one of the loveliest. Padua similarly boasts the body of St. Antony of Padua, locally known as “il Santo,” and far more important in his own town than all the rest of the Christian pantheon put together. The many-domed church erected over his remains is considerably166 larger than St. Mark’s at Venice; and the actual body of the saint itself is enclosed in an exquisite marble chapel, designed by Sansovino, and enriched with all the noblest art of the Renaissance167. Dominican monks168 and nuns170 make pilgrimages to Bologna, in order to venerate144 the body of St. Dominic, who died in that city, and whose corpse is enclosed in a magnificent sarcophagus in the church dedicated to him, and adorned171 with exquisite sculpture by various hands from the time of Niccolo Pisano to that of Michael Angelo. Siena has for its special glory St. Catherine the second—the first was the mythical princess of Alexandria; and the house of that ecstatic nun169 is still preserved intact as an oratory172 for the prayers of the pious. Her head, laid by in a silver shrine or casket, decorates the altar of her chapel in San Domenico, where the famous frescoes173 of Sodoma too often usurp174 the entire attention of northern visitors. Compare the holy head of Hoseyn at Cairo. The great Franciscan church at Assisi, once more, enshrines the remains of the founder175 of the Franciscans, which formerly176 reposed177 under the high altar; the church of Santa Maria degli Angeli below it encloses the little hut which was the first narrow home of the nascent178 order. I could go on multiplying such instances without number; I hope these few will suffice to make the Protestant reader feel how real is the reverence179 425still paid to the very corpses and houses of the saints in Italy. If ever he was present at Milan on the festa of San Carlo Borromeo, and saw the peasants from neighbouring villages flock in hundreds to kiss the relics of the holy man, as I have seen them, he would not hesitate to connect much current Christianity with the most primitive forms of corpse-worship and mummy-worship.
North of the Alps, again, I cannot refrain from mentioning a few salient instances, which help to enforce principles already enunciated180. At Paris, the two great local saints are St. Denis and Ste. Genevi猫ve. St. Denis was the first bishop of Lutetia and of the Parish: he is said to have been beheaded with his two companions at Montmartre,—Mons Martyrum. He afterwards walked with his head in his hands from that point (now covered by the little church of St. Pierre, next door to the new basilica of the Sacre Cour), to the spot where he piously181 desired to be buried. A holy woman named Catulla (note that last echo) performed the final rites for him at the place where the stately abbey-church of St. Denis now preserves his memory. The first cathedral on the spot was erected before the Frankish invasion; the second, built by Dagobert, was consecrated (as a vision showed) by Christ himself, who descended for the purpose from heaven, surrounded by apostles, angels, and St. Denis. The actual head or skull6 of the saint was long preserved in the basilica in a splendid reliquary of solid silver, the gift of Margu茅rite de France, just as Hoseyn’s head is still preserved at Cairo, and as so many other miraculous or oracular heads are kept by savages182 or barbarians elsewhere. Indeed, the anthropological183 enquirer184 may be inclined to suppose that the severance185 of th茅 head from the body and its preservation above ground, after the common fashion, gave rise later to the peculiar63 but by no means unique legend. Compare the bear’s head in the Aino superstition, as well as the oracular German and Scandinavian Nithstangs.
As for 426Ste. Genevi猫ve, she rested first in the church dedicated to her on the site now occupied by the Pantheon, which still in part, though secularised, preserves her memory. Her body (or what remains of it) lies at present in the neighbouring church of St. Etienne du Mont, where every lover of Paris surely pays his devotion to the shrine in the most picturesque and original building which the city holds, whenever he passes through the domain186 of Ste. Genevi猫ve. How real the devotion of the people still is may be seen on any morning of the working week, and still more during the octave of the saint’s fete-day.
As in many other cases, however, the remains of the virgin187 patroness of Paris have been more than once removed from place to place for safe custody188. The body was originally buried in the crypt of the old abbey church of the Holy Apostles on the Ile de la Cit茅. When the Normans overran the country, the monks carried it away with them in a wooden box to a place of safety. As soon as peace was once more restored, the corpse was enshrined in a splendid ch芒sse; while the empty tomb was still treated with the utmost reverence. At the Revolution, the actual bones, it is said, were destroyed; but the sarcophagus or cenotaph survived the storm, and was transferred to St. Etienne. Throughout the Neuvaine, thousands of the faithful still flock to worship it. The sarcophagus is believed even now to contain some holy portions of the saint’s body, saved from the wreck189 by pious adherents190.
Other familiar examples will occur to every one, such as the bones of the Magi or Three Kings, preserved in a reliquary in the Cathedral at Cologne; those of St. Ursula and the 11,000 virgins191; those of St. Stephen and St. Lawrence at Rome; those of St. Hubert, disinterred and found uncorrupted, at the town of the same name in the Ardennes; and those of St. Longinus in his chapel at Mantua. All these relics and bodies perform astounding192 miracles, and 427all have been the centres of important cults193 for a considerable period.
In Britain, from the first stages of Christianity, the reverence paid to the bodies of saints was most marked, and the story of their wanderings forms an important part of our early annals. Indeed, I dwell so long upon this point because few northerners of the present day can fully appreciate the large part which the Dead Body plays and has played for many centuries in Christian worship. Only those who, like me, have lived long in thoroughly194 Catholic countries, have made pilgrimages to numerous famous shrines, and have waded195 through reams of Anglo-Saxon and other early mediaeval documents, can really understand this phase of Christian hagiology. To such people it is abundantly clear that the actual Dead Body of some sainted man or woman has been in many places the chief object of reverence for millions of Christians in successive generations. A good British instance is found in the case of St. Cuthbert’s corpse. The tale of its wanderings is too long to be given here in full; it should be read in any good history of Durham. I epitomize briefly. The body of the devoted missionary196 of the north was first kept for some time at Lindisfarne. When, at the end of eleven years, the saint’s tomb was opened, his outer form was found still incorrupt; and so for more than 800 years it was believed to remain. It rested at Lindisfarne till 875, when the piratical Danes invaded Northumbria. The monks, regarding St. Cuthbert as their greatest treasure, fled inland, carrying the holy body with them on their own shoulders. Such translations of sacred corpses are common in Christian and heathen history. After many wanderings, during which it was treated with the utmost care and devotion, the hallowed body found an asylum197 for a while at Chester-le-Street in 883. In 995, it was transferred to Ripon, where it sanctified the minster by even so short a sojourn198; but in the same year it went forth199 again, on its way north to Lindisfarne. On the way, however, it miraculously200 428signified (by stubborn refusal to move) its desire to rest for ever at Durham—a town whose strong natural position and capacity for defence does honour to the saint’s military judgment201. Here, enclosed in a costly202 shrine, it remained working daily miracles till the Reformation. The later grave was opened in 1826, when the coffin203 was found to enclose another, made in 1104: and this again contained a third, which answered the description of the sarcophagus made in 698, when the saint was raised from his first grave. The innermost case contained, not indeed the uncorrupted body of Cuthbert, but a skeleton, still entire, and wrapped in fine robes of embroidered204 silk. No story known to me casts more light on corpse-worship than does this one when read with all the graphic details of the original authorities.
But everywhere in Britain we get similar local saints, whose bodies or bones performed marvellous miracles and were zealously205 guarded against sacrilegious intruders. Bede himself is already full of such holy corpses: and in later days they increased by the hundred. St. Alban at St. Alban’s, the protomartyr of Britain; the “white hand” of St. Oswald, that when all else perished remained white and uncorrupted because blessed by Aidan; St. Etheldreda at Ely, another remarkable206 and illustrative instance; Edward the Confessor at Westminster Abbey; these are but a few out of hundreds of examples which will at once occur to students of our history. And I will add that sometimes the legends of these saints link us on unexpectedly to far earlier types of heathen worship; as when we read concerning St. Edmund of East Anglia, the patron of Bury St. Edmund’s, that Ingvar the viking took him by force, bound him to a tree, scourged207 him cruelly, made him a target for the arrows of the pagan Danes, and finally beheaded him. Either, I say, a god-making sacrifice of the northern heathens; or, failing that, a reminiscence, like St. Sebastian, of such god-making rites as preserved 429in the legends of ancient martyrs. Compare here, once more, the Aino bear-sacrifice.
But during the later middle ages, the sacred Body of Britain, above all others, was undoubtedly that of Thomas A’Becket at Canterbury. Hither, as we know, all England went on pilgrimage; and nothing could more fully show the rapidity of canonisation in such cases than the fact that even the mighty208 Henry II. had to prostrate209 himself before his old enemy’s body and submit to a public scourging210 at the shrine of the new-made martyr. For several hundred years after his death there can be no doubt at all that the cult of St. Thomas of Canterbury was much the most real and living worship throughout the whole of England; its only serious rivals in popular favour being the cult of St. Cuthbert to the north of Humber, and that of St. Etheldreda in the Eastern Counties.
Holy heads in particular were common in Britain before the Reformation. A familiar Scottish case is that of the head of St. Fergus, the apostle of Banff and the Pictish Highlands, transferred to and preserved at the royal seat of Scone211. “By Sanct Fergus heid at Scone” was the favourite oath of the Scotch212 monarchs213, as “Par Sainct Denys” was that of their French contemporaries.
In almost all these cases, again, and down to the present day, popular appreciation214 goes long before official Roman canonisation. Miracles are first performed at the tomb, and prayers are answered; an irregular cult precedes the formal one. Even in our own day, only a few weeks after Cardinal Manning’s death, advertisements appeared in Catholic papers in London, giving thanks for spiritual and temporal blessings215 received through the intervention216 of Our Lady, the saints, “and our beloved Cardinal.”
This popular canonisation has often far outrun the regular official acceptance, as in the case of Joan of Arc in France at the present day, or of “Maister John Schorn, that blessed man born,” in the Kent of the middle ages. Thus countries like Wales and Cornwall are full of local and 430patriotic saints, often of doubtful Catholicity, like St. Cadoc, St. Padern, St. Petrock, St. Piran, St. Ruan, and St. Illtyd, not to mention more accepted cases, like St. Asaph and St. David. The fact is, men have everywhere felt the natural desire for a near, a familiar, a recent, and a present god or saint; they have worshipped rather the dead whom they loved and revered themselves than the elder gods and the remoter martyrs who have no body among them, no personal shrine, no local associations, no living memories. “I have seen in Brittany,” says a French correspondent of Mr. Herbert Spencer’s, “the tomb of a pious and charitable priest covered with garlands: people flocked to it by hundreds to pray of him that he would procure217 them restoration to health, and guard over their children.” There, with the Christian addition of the supreme218 God, we get once more the root-idea of religion.
I should like to add that beyond such actual veneration of the bodies of saints and martyrs, there has always existed a definite theory in the Roman church that no altar can exist without a relic. The altar, being itself a monumental stone, needs a body or part of a body to justify219 and consecrate it. Dr. Rock, a high authority, says in his Hierurgia, “By the regulations of the Church it is ordained220 that the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass be offered upon an altar which contains a stone consecrated by a Bishop, enclosing the relics of some saint or martyr; and be covered with three linen cloths that have been blessed for that purpose with an appropriate form of benediction221.” The consecration222 of the altar, indeed, is considered even more serious than the consecration of the church itself; for without the stone and its relic, the ceremony of the Mass cannot be performed at all. Even when Mass has to be said in a private house, the priest brings a consecrated stone and its relic along with him; and other such stones were carried in the retables or portable altars so common in military expeditions of the middle ages. The church is thus 431a tomb, with chapel tombs around it; it contains a stone monument covering a dead body or part of a body; and in it is made and exhibited the Body of Christ, in the form of the consecrated and transmuted223 wafer.
Not only, however, is the altar in this manner a reduced or symbolical21 tomb, and not only is it often placed above the body of a saint, as at St. Mark’s and St. Peter’s, but it also sometimes consists itself of a stone sarcophagus. One such sarcophagus exists in the Cathedral at St. Malo; I have seen other coffin-shaped altars in the monastery224 of La Trappe near Algiers and elsewhere. When, however, the altar stands, like that at St. Peter’s, above the actual body of a saint, it does not require to contain a relic; otherwise it does. That is to say, it must be either a real or else an attenuated225 and symbolical sarcophagus.
In the eastern church, a sort of relic-bag, called an Antimins, is necessary for the proper performance of the Holy Eucharist. It consists of a square cloth, laid on the altar or wrapped up in its coverings, and figured with a picture representing the burial of Christ by Joseph of Arimathea and the Holy Women. This brings it very near to the Adonis and Hoseyn ceremonies. But it must necessarily contain some saintly relic.
Apart from corpse-worship and relic-worship in the case of saints, Catholic Christendom has long possessed an annual Commemoration of the Dead, the Jour des Morts, which links itself on directly to earlier ancestor-worship. It is true, this commemoration is stated officially, and no doubt correctly, to owe its origin (in its recognised form) to a particular historical person, Adam de Saint Victor: but when we consider how universal such commemorations and annual dead-feasts have been in all times and places, we can hardly doubt that the church did but adopt and sanctify a practice which, though perhaps accounted heathenish, had never died out at all among the mass of believers. The very desire to be buried in a church or churchyard, and all that it implies, link on Christian usage here 432once more to primitive corpse-worship. Compare with the dead who sleep with Osiris. In the middle ages, many people were buried in chapels containing the body (or a relic) of their patron saint.
In short, from first to last, religion never gets far away from these its earliest and profoundest associations. “God and immortality,”—those two are its key-notes. And those two are one; for the god in the last resort is nothing more than the immortal50 ghost, etherealised and extended.
On the other hand, whenever religion travels too far afield from its emotional and primal226 base in the cult of the nearer dead, it must either be constantly renewed by fresh and familiar objects of worship, or it tends to dissipate itself into mere vague pantheism. A new god, a new saint, a “revival of religion,” is continually necessary. The Sacrifice of the Mass is wisely repeated at frequent intervals227; but that alone does not suffice; men want the assurance of a nearer, a more familiar deity. In our own time, and especially in Protestant and sceptical England and America, this need has made itself felt in the rise of spiritualism and kindred beliefs, which are but the doctrine228 of the ghost or shade in its purified form, apart, as a rule, from the higher conception of a supreme ruler. ~And what is Positivism itself save the veneration of the mighty dead, just tinged229 with vague ethical230 yearnings after the abstract service of living humanity? I have known many men of intellect, suffering under a severe bereavement—the loss of a wife or a dearly-loved child—take refuge for a time either in spiritualism or Catholicism. The former seems to give them the practical assurance of actual bodily intercourse231 with the dead, through mediums or table-turning; the latter supplies them with a theory of death which makes reunion a probable future for them. This desire for direct converse232 with the dead we saw exemplified in a very early or primitive stage in the case of the Mandan wives who talk lovingly to their husbands’ skulls; it probably forms the basis for the common habit of keeping the head 433while burying the body, whose widespread results we have so frequently noticed. I have known two instances of modern spiritualists who similarly had their wives’ bodies embalmed233, in order that the spirit might return and inhabit them.
Thus the Cult of the Dead, which is the earliest origin of all religion, in the sense of worship, is also the last relic of the religious spirit which survives the gradual decay of faith due to modern scepticism. To this cause I refer on the whole the spiritualistic utterances234 of so many among our leaders of modern science. They have rejected religion, but they cannot reject the inherited and ingrained religious emotions.
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1
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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envisaged
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| 想像，设想( envisage的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gaseous
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| adj.气体的，气态的 | |
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pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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underlying
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| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
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deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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annihilating
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的现在分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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omniscience
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| n.全知，全知者，上帝 | |
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omnipotence
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| n.全能，万能，无限威力 | |
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symbolically
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| ad.象征地，象征性地 | |
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symbolical
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| a.象征性的 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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cult
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| n.异教，邪教；时尚，狂热的崇拜 | |
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exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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bestows
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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deities
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| n.神，女神( deity的名词复数 )；神祗；神灵；神明 | |
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survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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schism
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| n.分派，派系，分裂 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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mosques
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| 清真寺； 伊斯兰教寺院，清真寺； 清真寺，伊斯兰教寺院( mosque的名词复数 ) | |
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mosque
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| n.清真寺 | |
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monographs
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| n.专著，专论( monograph的名词复数 ) | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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professes
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| 声称( profess的第三人称单数 )； 宣称； 公开表明； 信奉 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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component
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| n.组成部分，成分，元件；adj.组成的，合成的 | |
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constituents
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| n.选民( constituent的名词复数 )；成分；构成部分；要素 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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cemeteries
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| n.（非教堂的）墓地，公墓( cemetery的名词复数 ) | |
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whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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disciples
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| n.信徒( disciple的名词复数 )；门徒；耶稣的信徒；（尤指）耶稣十二门徒之一 | |
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chapels
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| n.小教堂， （医院、监狱等的）附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 )；（在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的）礼拜仪式 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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specify
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| vt.指定，详细说明 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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palls
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| n.柩衣( pall的名词复数 )；墓衣；棺罩；深色或厚重的覆盖物v.（因过多或过久而）生厌，感到乏味，厌烦( pall的第三人称单数 ) | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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abound
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| vi.大量存在；(in，with)充满，富于 | |
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interred
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| v.埋，葬( inter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dangle
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| v.(使)悬荡，(使)悬垂 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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invoked
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| v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
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minaret
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| n.（回教寺院的）尖塔 | |
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77
shrines
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| 圣地，圣坛，神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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78
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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79
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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80
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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81
alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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82
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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83
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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84
domed
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| adj. 圆屋顶的, 半球形的, 拱曲的 动词dome的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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85
pretensions
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| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
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86
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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87
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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88
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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89
alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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90
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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91
begot
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| v.为…之生父( beget的过去式 )；产生，引起 | |
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92
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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93
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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94
funereally
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| adj.送葬的，悲哀的，适合葬礼的 | |
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95
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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96
graphically
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| adv.通过图表；生动地，轮廓分明地 | |
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97
graphic
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| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
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98
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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99
carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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100
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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101
rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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102
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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103
meritorious
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| adj.值得赞赏的 | |
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104
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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105
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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106
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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108
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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109
niches
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| 壁龛( niche的名词复数 )； 合适的位置[工作等]； （产品的）商机； 生态位（一个生物所占据的生境的最小单位） | |
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110
serried
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| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
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111
cumulative
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| adj.累积的，渐增的 | |
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112
proscribed
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| v.正式宣布（某事物）有危险或被禁止( proscribe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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113
martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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114
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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115
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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116
sects
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| n.宗派，教派( sect的名词复数 ) | |
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117
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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118
veneration
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| n.尊敬，崇拜 | |
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119
discriminate
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| v.区别，辨别，区分；有区别地对待 | |
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120
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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121
mosaics
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| n.马赛克( mosaic的名词复数 )；镶嵌；镶嵌工艺；镶嵌图案 | |
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122
clement
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| adj.仁慈的；温和的 | |
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123
mythical
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| adj.神话的；虚构的；想像的 | |
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124
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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125
derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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126
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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127
consecrate
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| v.使圣化，奉…为神圣；尊崇；奉献 | |
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128
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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129
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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130
peruse
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| v.细读，精读 | |
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131
legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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132
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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133
reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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134
emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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135
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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136
barbarians
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| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
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137
shroud
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| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
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138
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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139
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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140
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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141
reposes
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的第三人称单数 ) | |
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142
consecrates
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| n.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的名词复数 )；奉献v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的第三人称单数 )；奉献 | |
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143
venerated
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| 敬重（某人或某事物），崇敬( venerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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144
venerate
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| v.尊敬，崇敬，崇拜 | |
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145
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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146
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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147
lagoons
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| n.污水池( lagoon的名词复数 )；潟湖；（大湖或江河附近的）小而浅的淡水湖；温泉形成的池塘 | |
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148
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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149
recurs
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| 再发生，复发( recur的第三人称单数 ) | |
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150
edifices
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| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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151
piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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152
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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153
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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154
gondola
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| n.威尼斯的平底轻舟；飞船的吊船 | |
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155
circumvent
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| vt.环绕，包围；对…用计取胜，智胜 | |
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156
demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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157
guile
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| n.诈术 | |
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158
sanitary
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| adj.卫生方面的，卫生的，清洁的，卫生的 | |
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159
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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160
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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161
authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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162
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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163
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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164
exudes
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| v.缓慢流出，渗出，分泌出( exude的第三人称单数 )；流露出对（某物）的神态或感情 | |
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165
sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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166
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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167
renaissance
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| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
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168
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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169
nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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170
nuns
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| n.（通常指基督教的）修女， （佛教的）尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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171
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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172
oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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173
frescoes
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| n.壁画( fresco的名词复数 )；温壁画技法，湿壁画 | |
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174
usurp
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| vt.篡夺，霸占；vi.篡位 | |
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175
Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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176
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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177
reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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178
nascent
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| adj.初生的，发生中的 | |
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179
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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180
enunciated
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| v.（清晰地）发音( enunciate的过去式和过去分词 )；确切地说明 | |
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181
piously
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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182
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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183
anthropological
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| adj.人类学的 | |
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184
enquirer
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| 寻问者，追究者 | |
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185
severance
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| n.离职金；切断 | |
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186
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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187
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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188
custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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189
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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190
adherents
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| n.支持者，拥护者( adherent的名词复数 )；党羽；徒子徒孙 | |
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191
virgins
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| 处女，童男( virgin的名词复数 )； 童贞玛利亚（耶稣之母） | |
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192
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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193
cults
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| n.迷信( cult的名词复数 )；狂热的崇拜；（有极端宗教信仰的）异教团体 | |
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194
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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195
waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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196
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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197
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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198
sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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199
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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200
miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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201
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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202
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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zealously
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| adv.热心地；热情地；积极地；狂热地 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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scourged
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| 鞭打( scourge的过去式和过去分词 )； 惩罚，压迫 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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scourging
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| 鞭打( scourge的现在分词 )； 惩罚，压迫 | |
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scone
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| n.圆饼，甜饼，司康饼 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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monarchs
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| 君主，帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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consecration
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| n.供献，奉献，献祭仪式 | |
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transmuted
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| v.使变形，使变质，把…变成…( transmute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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primal
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| adj.原始的；最重要的 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ethical
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| adj.伦理的，道德的，合乎道德的 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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embalmed
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| adj.用防腐药物保存（尸体）的v.保存（尸体）不腐( embalm的过去式和过去分词 )；使不被遗忘；使充满香气 | |
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utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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