THE MONOGRAM OF CHRIST AND THE HEART IN ANCIENT TRADE MARKS
In a documentary article entitled 'Armes avec motifs astrologiques et talismaniques' which appeared in the Revue de l'Histoire des Religions (July-October 1924), W. Deonna of Geneva compares the signs that appear on those arms with other more or less similar symbols, and speaks especially of the 'quatre de chiffre'[1] which was customarily used in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries [2] as a family and house mark for private individuals, who put them on their tombstones and on their coats of arms.
He notes that this sign 'lends itself to all sorts of combinations, with the cross, the globe, and the heart in association with the monograms of the proprietors, with added strokes,' and he reproduces a certain number of examples. We think this was essentially a 'master's mark' common to many different guilds, to which the
individuals and families who used it were doubtless linked by some bonds, often hereditary.
Deonna then speaks rather summarily of the origin and meaning of this mark, reporting that
Jusselin derives it from the Constantinian monogram, already freely interpreted and distorted on Merovingian and Carolingian documents, [3] but this hypothesis seems altogether arbitrary, and no analogy imposes itself.
Such is not our opinion, and it must on the contrary be very natural to classify it so since this is what we, for our part, had always done, even without knowledge of any special studies that might exist on the question, and we would not even have believed it contestable, so evident does it seem to us. But let us continue, and see what other explanations are proposed:
Would it be the Arabic number 4, substituted for Roman numerals in European manuscripts before the eleventh century?... Must we suppose that it represents the mystical value of the number 4, which goes back to antiquity, and which moderns have preserved?
Deonna does not reject this interpretation, but prefers another, supposing 'that it is a case of an astrological sign,' that of Jupiter.
To tell the truth, these various hypotheses do not necessarily exclude one another, for in this case as in many others there could very well have been superposition and even fusion of several symbols into a single one, to which multiple meanings are thereby attached. There is nothing surprising in this, since, as we have previously said, a multiplicity of meanings is inherent in symbolism, of which it even constitutes one of the greatest advantages as a mode of expression. Only, we must naturally be able to recognize which is the first and principal meaning of the symbol, and here we persist in thinking that that meaning is given by identification with the
Chrisme, [4] whereas the others are only associated with it in a secondary way.
It is certain that the astrological sign of Jupiter, the two main forms of which we give here (fig. 1), presents in its general appearance a resemblance with the figure 4 ; it is also certain that use of this sign may be connected with the idea of 'mastery', something we will return to later; but for us this aspect of the symbolism can only be of tertiary interest. Let us note moreover that even the origin of this sign of Jupiter is very doubtful, since some see it as a representation of the thunderbolt, whereas for others it is simply the initial of the name Zeus.
On the other hand, it seems to us undeniable that what Deonna calls the 'mystical value' of the number 4 has also played a role here, one that is even more important, for we would rank it second in this complex symbolism. We may note in this respect that in all the marks where it appears, the form of the numeral 4 is exactly that of a cross of which two extremities are joined by an oblique line (fig. 2). Now, in antiquity, and especially among the Pythagoreans, the cross was the symbol of the quaternary (or more exactly one of its
figure 1
figure 2
symbols, for the square was another); and the association of the cross with the monogram of Christ must have been established in the most natural way.
This remark brings us back to the Chrisme; and we should say first of all that it is proper to make a distinction between the socalled Constantinian Chrisme, the sign of the Labarum, and what is called the simple Chrisme. The latter (fig. 3) appears to us as the fundamental symbol from which so many others are derived more
or less directly. It is considered to be formed by the union of the letters ' I ' and ' X ', that is, from the Greek initials of the two words Iesous Christos, and that in effect is a meaning it received from the first days of Christianity. But in itself this symbol is much earlier, being one of those widely used everywhere and in all ages. Here then is an example of the Christian adaptation of pre-Christian signs and legends which we have already pointed out in regard to the legend of the Holy Grail; and for those who, like us, see in these symbols vestiges of the primordial tradition, the adaptation must appear not only legitimate, but in a way necessary. The legend of the Grail is of Celtic origin, and through a rather remarkable coincidence the symbol we are speaking of now is also found particularly among the Celts, where it is an essential element of the 'wheel' (fig. 4); the latter, moreover, was perpetuated through the Middle Ages, and it is not unlikely that it might even be related to the rose window of
cathedrals. [5] Indeed, there is a certain connection between the figure of the wheel and floral symbols with their multiple meanings, such as the rose and the lotus, which we mentioned in previous articles. But this takes us too far from our subject. As for the general significance of the wheel, which the moderns ordinarily regard as an exclusively 'solar' symbol in accordance with the kind of explanation they use and abuse in all circumstances, we say, although without being able to emphasize it as much as we should, that it is really something else altogether, that it is first and foremost a symbol of
figure 5
figure 6
the World, as the study of Hindu iconography in particular suggests. And while speaking of the Celtic 'wheel', [6] let us also point out that the same origin and the same meaning should very probably be attributed to the emblem in the upper corner of the British flag (fig. 6), an emblem differing from the wheel only in that it is inscribed in a rectangle rather than a circumference, and which some Englishmen wish to see as a sign of their country's maritime supremacy. [7]
And here let us make a very important observation concerning heraldic symbolism: the form of the simple Chrisme is like a sort of general schema used to arrange the most diverse figures in the blazon. For example, when we look at an eagle or any other heraldic bird, it is not hard to realize that they follow this arrangement (the head, the tail, and the tips of the wings and the feet corresponding to the six points of figure 3), and if we look at an emblem such as the fleur-de-lis, we observe the same thing. Besides, in this last case, the real origin of the emblem in question matters little, although it has given rise to so many hypotheses: the fleur-de-lis is really a flower, bringing us back to the floral symbols we recalled just now (the natural lily, moreover, has six petals), or it may have been originally a spearhead, or a bird, or a bee, the ancient Chaldean symbol of royalty (the hieroglyphic sār), or even a toad, [8] or, as is more
probable, it results from the synthesis of several of these figures, but in all cases it nonetheless remains true that it conforms strictly to the schema we are speaking of.
One of the reasons for this particularity must be found in the importance of the meanings attached to the number 6, for the figure we envisage is really none other than one of the geometrical symbols corresponding to this number. If its ends are joined two by two (fig. 7) we obtain another well-known senary symbol, the
double triangle (fig. 8), to which the name 'seal of Solomon' is most often given. [9] This figure is frequently used among Jews and Arabs, but it is also a Christian emblem. As Charbonneau-Lassay pointed out to us, it was even one of the ancient symbols of Christ, as was also another equivalent figure, the six branched star (fig. 9), which is basically only a variation of it, as is of course the Chrisme itselfwhich is another reason for establishing a close relation between these signs. Among other things, medieval Christian Hermeticism saw in the two opposing and interlinked triangles, of which one is the reflection or inverted image of the other, a representation of the union of the divine and human natures, in the person of Christ; and the number 6 includes among its meanings those of union and of mediation, which perfectly fit the Word incarnate. Moreover, according to the Hebrew Kabbalah this same number is the number of creation (the work of the six days), and in this connection the attribution of its symbol to the Word is no less well justified: it acts
figure 8
figure 9
as a sort of graphic translation of the per quem omnia facta sunt of the Credo. [10]
Now what is particularly to be noted from our present point of view is that the double triangle was chosen in the sixteenth century, or perhaps even earlier, as an emblem and rallying-sign by certain guilds; especially in Germany it even became the ordinary sign of taverns or cafes where the said guilds held their meetings. [11] It was in a way a common general mark, whereas the more or less complex figures in which the 'quatre de chiffre' appeared were personal marks, particular to each master; but is it not logical to suppose that between the latter and the former there should be a certain kinship, the very same kinship we have just shown to exist between the Chrisme and the double triangle?
At first glance, the Constantinian Chrisme (Fig. 10), formed by the union of two Greek letters, ' X ' and ' P ', the first two letters of Christos, appears to be derived directly from the simple Chrisme, of which it preserves precisely the fundamental arrangement, and from which it differs only by the addition to its upper part of a loop meant to transform the ' I ' into a ' P '. Now, if we consider the 'quatre de chiffre' in its simplest and most common forms, its similaritywe could even say its identity-with the Constantinian Chrisme, is
figure 10
figure 11
figure 12
altogether undeniable, and it is especially striking when the numeral 4, or the sign which assumes its form and can at the same
time be seen as a distortion of the ' P ', is turned to the right (Fig. 11) instead of to the left (fig. 12), for we meet with these two directions randomly. [12] Moreover, here we see the appearance of a second symbolic element that did not exist in the Constantinian Chrisme: we mean a cruciform sign introduced quite naturally by the transformation of the ' P ' into a 4 . Often the sign is emphasized by the addition of a supplementary line, either horizontal (fig. 13), or vertical (fig. 14), that constitutes a sort of doubling of the cross, as is seen on the two figures below taken from Deonna. [13] And note that in the second of these figures the entire lower part of the Chrisme has disappeared and been replaced by a personal monogram, just as elsewhere it is replaced by various other symbols. This is perhaps what caused doubts concerning the identity of the sign that remains constant throughout all these changes. We hold that the marks containing the complete Chrisme represent the original form, whereas the
figure 13
figure 14
others are later modifications in which the retained part was taken for the whole, probably without the meaning ever having been entirely lost from sight. However, it seems that in certain cases the cruciform element of the symbol then passed to the foreground; at least that is what seems to result from the association of the 'quatre de chiffre' with other signs, and this is the point we must now consider.
Among the signs in question, one appears in the mark on a six-teenth-century tapestry preserved in the Chartres Museum (fig. 15), and its nature leaves us no room for doubt, for it is obviously a scarcely modified form of the 'globe of the World' (fig. 16), a symbol formed from the Hermetic sign of the mineral kingdom surmounted by a cross. Here, the 'quatre de chiffre' has purely and simply taken the place of the cross. [14] This 'globe of the World' is essentially a sign of power, power at once temporal and spiritual, for if it is one of the distinguishing marks of imperial dignity, it is also constantly found placed Christ's hand, and that not only in representations evoking more particularly the divine Majesty, like those of the Last Judgment, but even in figures of the Christ Child. Thus, when that sign replaces the Chrisme (and here we should recall the link originally uniting the Chrisme to the 'wheel', another symbol of
figure 15
figure 16
the World) we can say in sum that it is still one more attribute of Christ that has been substituted for another. At the same time, the idea of 'mastery' is now directly attached to this new attribute, as in the sign of Jupiter (which the upper part of the symbol calls to mind especially in such cases), but without for all that losing its cruciform value; and the comparison of the two figures above does not permit the slightest hesitation in this regard.
We finally come then to the group of marks that directly motivated this study. The essential difference between these marks and the one just discussed is that the globe is replaced by a heart. It is curious that these two types appear closely linked to one another,
for in some (figs. 17 & 18) the heart is divided by lines disposed in precisely the same way as those that characterize the 'Globe of the World'. [15]
figure 17
figure 18
Does this not indicate a sort of equivalence, at least in a certain respect, and would this not already be enough to suggest that here it is a question of the 'Heart of the World'? In other examples the straight lines drawn within the heart are replaced by curved lines seeming to outline the auricles and enclose the initials (figs. 19 & 20). But these marks seem more recent than the preceding ones, [16] so that it is probably a case of a rather late modification meant perhaps to give to the figure a less geometrical and more ornamental appearance. Finally, there exist more complicated variations where the principal symbol is accompanied by secondary signs that obviously do not change the meaning; and even in the one we reproduce (fig. 21), we may be permitted to think that the stars only mark more clearly the celestial character that it is appropriate to see
figure 19
figure 20
figure 21
in it. [17] By this we mean that in our opinion we should see the Heart of Christ in all these figures, and we think it hardly possible to see anything else therein, since this heart is surmounted by a cross, and even in the case of those before us, by a cross doubled by the addition of a horizontal line to the number 4.
Let us digress a moment to point out another curious parallel: the schematization of these figures gives a known Hermetic symbol (fig. 22), which is none other that the reversed position of alchemical sulphur (fig. 23).
figure 22
figure 23
We find here the inverted triangle, whose equivalence with the heart and the cup we have already noted. Isolated, this triangle is the alchemical sign of water, whereas the upright triangle with point directed upward, is that of fire. Now, among the different meanings ascribed to water in the most diverse traditions, the one that is of particular interest here is that of Grace and the regeneration effected by it in the one who receives it. Let us recall in this respect baptismal water, the four fountains of fresh water of the Terrestrial Paradise, and also the water escaping from the Heart of Christ, inexhaustible source of Grace. Finally, and this also corroborates this explanation, the reversal of the symbol of sulphur signifies the descent of spiritual influence into the 'world below', that is, into the terrestrial human world; it is in other words the 'celestial dew' of which we have already spoken. [18] These are the Hermetic emblems
we alluded to, and it must be admitted that their true meaning is very far from the falsified interpretations certain contemporary sects claim to give them!
figure 24
figure 25
That said, let us return to our guild marks in order to formulate in a few words the conclusions that seem to us to emerge most clearly from all that we have just set forth. In the first place, we think we have sufficiently established that it is indeed the Chrisme that constitutes the fundamental type from which these marks have issued, and from which, consequently, they draw their principal meaning. In the second place, when in certain of these marks the heart takes the place of the Chrisme and of other symbols undeniably connected directly to Christ, do we not have the right to assert plainly that this heart is indeed the Heart of Christ? And then, as we have already pointed out earlier, the fact that this same heart is surmounted by a cross, or by a sign certainly equivalent to the cross, or better yet by both joined together, that fact, we say, supports this assertion as solidly as can be, for we do not see how any other hypothesis could furnish a plausible explanation for it could be furnished. Finally, is not the idea of inscribing one's name in the form of initials or a monogram in the very heart of Christ an idea worthy of the piety of Christians of bygone days? [19]
We close our study on this final thought, contenting ourselves this time with having, by clarifying some points of interest on religious
symbolism in general, brought to the ancient iconography of the Sacred Heart a contribution that came to us from a somewhat unexpected source, and hoping only that among our readers are some who may complete it by indicating other documents of the same kind, for quite a considerable number must certainly exist here and there, and it would suffice to gather them and bring them together to form a collection of truly impressive testimonies. [20]