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CHAPTER VII: George

This infamous tale we will not believe. Of course no such old reprobate - one who would "sell his country for a cake" could possibly be England's knightly saint. Our other legend tells us that in the same Cappadocia where this worldly hypocrite of a St. George was born, and at about the same time, another St. George MEANING OF "COAT-OF-ARMS." appeared. He grew up as pious as he was knightly, but though he valorously tore down certain decrees against the churches of Nicomedia that had been posted up in some public place, and thus incurred the wrath of the great Cæsar, who as a punishment had him put to death with great tortures, still the acts of his Christian life were so little known that after his canonization it seemed necessary to introduce a number of interesting little anecdotes in order to make his career seem really worthy of the exalted place he holds in the calendar. So Greek, Latin, and Moslem saints industriously set to work, and the result of their imaginative work is very nearly the following little tale.

His father was a martyr, and after his death the terrified Christian mother took her little child and hurried into Palestine. As early as it was possible for him to do so, St. George entered the army, and at twenty years of age, by the death of his mother, became the possessor of a large fortune. Then the spirit of travel took possession of him, and it so happened that his journeys led him into Lybia; here he found a wealthy town called Silene, near which there was a beautiful pond; but lovely as nature had made it, it was rendered loathsome by a horrible monster who made his abode beside it. Many a time had companies of armed men attempted to destroy him, but he always drove them back, slaying many of the soldiers. Sometimes he even approached close to the city, and, peering over the walls, sent great puffs of his dreadful and poisonous breath into the streets of the afflicted town. To propitiate him, and to keep him from repeating these knee-knocking, blood-curdling visits, it was decided by the inhabitants to make him a daily present of two sheep. This did very well for a time, but presently all the flocks not only became thinned and diminished in size, but they vanished entirely. The dragon had eaten them all up! What was to be done? The hungry horror began his daily visits, and his scorching breath became the prevailing wind of the district. The citizens gathered together and decided that, flocks and herds having been exhausted, lots must be drawn among the people themselves! One day, to the great agony of the king, the lot fell upon his only child. Bad it was to lose the cattle and the sheep, and worse was it to see his subjects eaten up - but his only child - his little golden-haired, laughing daughter - oh, no, that never, never could be, and the king in his frenzy offered all his gold and silver, with half his realm thrown in, if they would excuse her from the feast. But the hollow-eyed mob shrieked, "No!" If his daughter was not eaten, did he not know that some one else's would have to be? All that his entreaties could extract from them was a respite of eight days, which the maiden might devote to saying her prayers and bracing herself up for the ordeal. Meanwhile, the enraged monster came with greater frequency to the walls of the city, and blew bigger draughts of his horrid breath twice and thrice a day over the wretched people, killing more than ever. The tormented inhabitants now threatened to murder all the royal household if the doomed maiden did not forthwith proceed to meet her fate. So at length the damsel robed herself for the sacrifice; and though it cannot be supposed that she went with a hop, skip, and jump, still out she sallied through the gates to meet her fate. She slowly wended her way towards the evil beast, who sat smacking his lips and rolling his tongue in fond anticipation of this delicately fed and dainty creature, this tidbit that was to slide down his cavernous maw. MEANING OF "COAT-OF-ARMS."

Just at this moment, the future saint, George of Cappadocia, came riding by, and, the beauty of the weeping maiden attracting him, he paused to ask the cause of her grief. She told her tale, and then, noticing that the dragon had risen and was slowly wriggling himself forward, she bade him fly for his life, as the terrible creature always liked two for dinner better than one. At this the knight smiled, and, turning towards the monster, rushed, spear in hand, upon the beast, and, utterly destroying him, cleft his head from his body, and brought it smoking hot into the public square of the now huzzaing town.

From there he went to Rome, but soon after his arrival a massacre of Christians was instituted. Our hero, being most holy in his life and character, decided, after distributing all his wealth among the suffering poor of his own faith, to boldly tell the Emperor that he, St. George, was one of the hated sect. He was a valiant and fearless knight, and, before condemning him to death, the Emperor allowed him a chance for his life by bidding him once more to sacrifice to the gods. This he refused to do, and was directly sentenced to death. After being driven into prison, he was accordingly savagely thrust at with spears by his executioners. Such weapons ought surely to have caused his death, but they snapped like straws when touching his body. This was somewhat of a surprise, but there were other means by which to destroy malefactors, so they fastened him by his hands and feet to posts, a heavy stone was laid upon his body, and his executioners waited to see him flatten out, and to hear his last groan. They waited, - but he continued to look plump and rosy, while his breath came and went as regular as clock-work. This also was discouraging, and they concluded to allow a night to intervene before binding him to a wheel set with sharp blades and knives. Such an instrument they felt sure would make an end of him; but an angel was seen to hover suddenly over his head, and St. George, raising an arm that should have been stiff in death, saluted him most courteously after the military fashion of the day. He was immediately removed from the wheel, and although they examined him carefully, not a wound could they find that was not perfectly healed. In great wrath they then threw him into a pit of quicklime, but that seemed to be as comfortable for the holy man as a bath of warm water, so, dragging him out of it, they tried boiling oil; still his skin was as free from signs of fire after passing through this ordeal as it was before. Now his feet were put in red-hot iron shoes, and he was bade to run a race, which he did to the admiration of all beholders. The fury of his persecutors reached its height, and an iron box was produced, lined with sharp pointed nails. In this he was laid and then flung down a precipice. By this time his executioners were suspicious of the results of even such a life-destroying medium; they worked their way carefully down to the foot of the cliff, pried open the ugly box, when, Great Jupiter! out jumped the saint, as smiling, too, and as forgiving as a saint should be, while not a gash was visible in his flesh! Then they dragged him up the hill and scourged him with thongs of hide till his flesh fell in flakes from off his back. This was encouraging, but the next day nothing was to be seen but the scars. Two cups of poison were now given him to drink, one to drive him mad, and the other to kill him, but they proved to be like milk and honey to the saint, he being mercifully preserved, though he obligingly drank off the contents of both without a moment's hesitation. At this time he / e MEANING OF "COAT-OF-ARMS." had the opportunity given him to restore to life both a dead man and an ox recently slaughtered, which he did, and by these miracles converted many. But that night, in a dream, St. George saw the Saviour approach him with a golden crown, which he laid upon his head, and, smiling approvingly upon him, bade him prepare for Paradise. Upon awakening, St. George called his faithful servant, who wrote these memoirs, to him, and commanded him after his death to carry his body and his will to Palestine.

The next day, by making the sign of the cross, he forced the devil that dwelt inside the statue of Apollo to confess aloud that he was only a fallen angel; and immediately all the statues of the other gods fell down. This last miracle converted not only forty thousand nine hundred men, but the very wife of the Emperor. The sovereign was now so tired and exhausted with his efforts to destroy his seemingly deathless prisoner, that he turned in his exasperation upon his wife, and put her to death, and managed to send with her soul that of the much-suffering saint-probably by means of the cross depicted on the English flag. The two liberated spirits ascended together, and, as they did so, a whirlwind of fire suddenly enveloped the barbarous Emperor, and he was carried we will not ask where - but he was never seen again on earth. During the Crusades, when the Lion-Hearted King, with his army, arrived at the gates of Jerusalem, this valiant saint appeared on the walls of the Holy City, waving his sword, and led him on to a victorious assault. During the fray, St. Michael slipped up beside him, and the two did knightly deeds. Great was the enthusiasm of the Crusaders over this saintly and chivalrous deed of the noble George, and their praises soon placed him at the top of all the saints worshipped in Europe, Aragon, Portugal, and England, and most of the chivalrous orders of that day assumed him as their patron. In 1348 King Edward III. founded St. George's Chapel in Windsor. The next year, when he was besieging Calais and strove to stir his soldiers to greater deeds of courage, he brandished his sword above his head, exclaiming, "Ha! St. Edward! Ha! St. George!" These words so animated his followers that they fell upon the French and routed them completely. From that time Edward the Confessor ceased to be England's favorite saint, and the Holy George became its patron. "Thou amongst those saints whom thou dost see, Shall be a saint and thine owne nation's friend And patrone; thou St. George shall called bee - Saint George of Merrie England, - the sign of victorie!" And now, having connected St. George with the red cross that shines out most conspicuously on the English flag, we will talk of the two remaining crosses that underlie it. The white one belongs to St. Andrew. His history runs thus:- In 1248, so the old historians, who are fond of legendary lore, have written, the Christian allies were besieging the walls of Seville, and in order to accomplish their purpose, many and diverse were the means they used; among other war machines, they had the saltire, or scaling ladder, and by means of it they clambered to the top of the walls. This was successfully accomplished upon St. Andrew's Day, and they ordered Te Deums to be sung in all the churches, glorifying the benign saint. Not only did they give him thanks, but vowed "that from thenceforth as well they as their posterity, in tyme of war, should wear a cross of St. Andrew as their badge and MEANING OF "COAT-OF-ARMS." a cognizance." Afterwards the conquerors converted the inhabitants of Seville, and the Archbishop put the saltire on the banner of St. Andrew. Gradually it grew upon the people that a saltire species of scaling ladder - was scarcely a fit emblem to put upon the banner of a saint; it would be better to style it a cross, and there was formed a story of the good St. Andrew having suffered death upon a cross of that form. As no one has ever been proved to have met his death in such an uncomfortable way, we cannot believe that either he or St. Patrick, who, it is likewise said, had to perish in a similar way, were ever executed on such crosses.

But the Scots regard the cross with peculiar veneration. The old Highlanders used to repeat, as a miracle in which their grandfathers for generations back believed, that somewhere in that interesting, legend-creating age, the ninth century, when Hungus was the king of the Picts in Scotland, he was about to engage in battle with a formidable host of enemies. The night before, he had a vision, and in it saw the Apostle St. Andrew, who comforted his heart by promising victory to his army, and, that he might put undoubted faith in this assurance, told him that above the heads of his Pictish followers the Saltire Cross upon which he died should be distinctly seen in the blue sky. Not only did Hungus's believing eyes behold the sign, but those of the entire army beheld the symbol, and the soldiers, rushing upon the enemy, soon had the pleasure of seeing them vanish into a handful of fleeing, panic-stricken men.