SECTION K.

OATH OF WILLIAM RUFUS.

OUR English chroniclers represent William Rufus, on every occasion on which he used strong language, as employing an oath, "By St. Luke's face." Rapin and others call it his favourite oath. This is a very curious mistake, originating in a mistranslation of the Latin phrase of some ancient historian, probably Eadmer, or William of Malmesbury. "He swore," say they, "per vultum de Lucca," by the face of, or at Lucca, without the shadow of a reference to the Evangelist. The inquiry into this curious fact opens a passage of English history more fully than it is usually presented to us, and leads us to matter also of general interest; a circumstance which, I trust, may suggest a sufficient apology for this digression.

William the Second was a very headstrong and irreligious man, reckless of Providence, with ungovernable passions, self-willed, blind to danger, and regardless of duty. On one occasion of his employing the oath in question, these qualities showed themselves so prominently, and they so clearly develope the character of the man, that I take leave to insert the narrative more at length

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than the bare explanation of his oath might require*. The king was in the full enjoyment of a hunting-party when a messenger, from beyond sea, brought him tidings that a town which had lately fallen into his hands was besieged by the enemy. Instantly, equipped as he was for the chase, he turned his horse's head, and made for the sea. On his attendants' suggesting the propriety of waiting till his forces could be collected and marshalled, he scornfully replied, "I shall see who will follow me. Think ye I shall not have an army?" He arrived at the coast almost alone. The wind was contrary, the weather stormy, and the sea in dreadful agitation. Resolved to pass over at the moment, when the mariners remonstrated and implored him to wait for a less foul sea and sky, he exclaimed impetuously, "I never yet heard of a king perishing by shipwreck; loose the cables, I say, instantly. You shall see the elements conspire in their obsequiousness to me." William crossed in safety, and the first rumour of his landing scattered the besiegers. A leading man among them, one Helias (the Earl of Flesche, his competitor for the Earldom of Maine), was taken prisoner, and brought before the king, who saluted him with a jeer, "I have you, master. To this his high-minded captive (whom as the historian remarks, his imminent danger could not teach pru

*Eadmer, i., 124.

dence or humble language,) replied, "It was by mere chance you took me; if I could escape, I know what I would do." Upon this William, almost beside himself with rage and fury, clenching his fist at Helias, exclaimed, "You rascal! What would you do? Begone! away! fly!" and "By the face of Lucca (per vultum de Lucca) if you conquer me, I will make no terms with you for this free pardon*."

THE FACE OF LUCCA.

IN consequence of different legends of "The Holy Face" existing in the Church of Rome, I was for some time under a mistake as to the real origin of this oath. "The Face of Lucca," however, by which William swore, was undoubtedly a crucifix in that town. Butler in a note, on the life of St. Veronica of Milan, calls it a very ancient miraculous crucifix, in the Chapel of the Holy Cross in the Cathedral dedicated to St. Martin. Lord Lyttelton says, "There is at Lucca, in Tuscany, an ancient figure of Christ brought there

* I know not whether I have given the correct translation of the historian's own words, "Obuncans Heliam.” The word is not classical, nor do I remember to have met with it elsewhere. "Obuncis pedibus" is a classical expression, used by Ovid, for the clenched talons of an eagle. I have, therefore, conjectured that the writer's meaning was as I have expressed it. Perhaps it means seizing, grasping, clenching Helias. Another interpretation is, “beckoning to him with his finger."

miraculously, as they pretend, and which they say still continues to work miracles. They call it "Il santo volto di Lucca," and are so proud of possess ing it, that it is stamped on their coin with this legend, Sanctus vultus de Luca."" In an Italian book published in 1721, called "Il Forestiere informato delle cose di Lucca," the legend is given in detail at great length, with much pomp of circumstance. The author calls it the Holy Cross, and says it is the Image of Jesus crucified. He tells us it was made in consequence of a miraculous command given to the Nicodemus of the Gospel to go to mount Cedron, and carve that image; where he formed it under the immediate guidance of heaven, "Con arte divina e non sua." An angel long afterwards, by a new miracle, commanded the Bishop of Lucca, to go with all his clergy to Porto di Luni, whither it had been miraculously transported from the Holy Land, and to bring so vast an acquisition to their own city: and after stating that Nicodemus had enclosed in it many precious relics, which had been handled by the Most Holy Virgin; he further adds, "that as the first Christians devoutly worshipped it, he is not deceived, who believes that it was also adored even by the Holy Virgin herself, and by our dear St. Paul, by St. Peter the Head of the Church, and by all the Apostles and Disciples who were stationed together there."

There are two very curious passages in Dante, which refer to the superstitious veneration paid to this image. A sinner from Lucca is represented, by the poet*, as thrown into a sea of boiling pitch, where he tumbles and rolls over and over, in the dreadful flood, like a porpoise, to intimate that when on earth he would duck down and throw himself into the same posture, with his forehead on the ground, before the image of Lucca; when he is assured, his torments, by his triumphant foe, that his reliance on that relic would avail him nothing:

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An oath very similar to this of William,-" By the Holy Face," is used to the present day in Spain, especially in Valencia. Its origin is found in one of the most engaging and affecting, but not on that account less unfounded legends of the church of Rome. How very prone are men of all ages to do evil that good may come, to invent or propagate what is not true, with a view of securing some desirable end! How much are Christians, of every age, in need of being warned against attempting to spread or uphold the truth by unhallowed means! Pious frauds, though often sanctioned on earth, offer a direct insult to the majesty of the God of truth and justice. We may be sure he abominates a falsehood, even when the man who has

* Compare Dante Inferno, xxi. 49., with xxii. 19.