
Art. XXXVI.—Of a Radiant Phenomenon: “In hoc signovinces.”
[Read before the Hawke's Bay Philosophical Institute.]
Memorandum.—31st May, 1892: Returning this day by the express railway-train from Woodville to Dannevirke in a thick fog, I was suddenly struck with admiration and delight on seeing the exact image of the letters “N.Z.R.” and of the whole ornamental and coloured glasswork in the upper lights in the narrow raised roof clearly and beautifully shown high up in the foggy air, in altitude far above the roof of the carriage, and on its eastern side. Every fine and delicate line and point of tracery was most distinctly produced, without any blurring or scumbling, and such was also continued, not withstanding the rapid progress of the train, throughout its running in a straight direction, or in one suited to catch and reflect the beams of the sun. Of course, when the carriage deviated to the right or to the left the image vanished, but it was sure to reappear on the train again running in that same direction; and when the train stood still at any of the stations and keeping the same course the image was fixed. This happened between the hours of 12.45 and 1.15, when the sun had declined but little from its highest altitude (though naturally low in the heavens at this midwinter season), and when it was shining brightly through rifts and breaks in the dense fog and scattered white clouds; at times also the imagery was highly illuminated, becoming of a brilliant-red colour, and largely magnified. And again, when the sun shone out strongly, being quite clear of fog and of clouds, the reflected images were remarkably vivid red, dazzling the eyes. At such times the image of the sun itself would also be represented by an additional brilliant round and bright-red figure, partly encircling the other reflections, on which the eye could not remain momentarily fixed: this, however, was transitory. Sometimes the appearance of the legend “N.Z.R.,” with its accompanying delicate ornamentation, was agreeably changed in its colour, becoming merely dark on a dead frosty-white background. And when the fog had wholly cleared away the same pictures were again vividly and faithfully produced against the deep-blue and clear sky: and all this show continued for a considerable time—more than half an hour.
Naturally it led me to think on the famous legendary sign in the sky, said to have been seen by the Emperor Constantine,

A.D. 312, and I exclaimed, “Ecce signum!” and the question arose in my mind whether that appearance in the sky was not caused in a similar kind of natural manner—by the sun's rays striking down on such a device, which might have pertained to some one of the Emperor's legionaries, and so reflected it high up in the sky.
Considering this matter has led me to look up what ancient history says of that famous sign (which I had nearly forgotten), and I find—(1) That it was not the sign of the cross at all as we moderns understand it; (2) that it was not even thought so much of at the time it was said to have happened; and (3) that those historians who were then living have given differing accounts of it, and also of the time or season of its occurrence.
As this story is, I think, little known to my audience, and also liable to much doubt, I will briefly mention a portion of what has been said about it.
But first of Constantine himself. At that very period he was not a Christian. This is clear from Eusebius (Bishop of Cæsarea), who, in his life of the Emperor (with whom he was in great favour), says, “In the commencement of his war with the Roman Emperor Maxentius he was still at a loss to what god he should trust himself and his affairs.”,* He was a deist of the lowest class, who considered the god of his father as a limited being, though more benevolent and powerful than any of the Greek and Roman deities. This is manifest from his regulations in favour of the Christians and from his laws tolerating the Pagan haruspices.
There is great difference of opinion as to the time when, and the place where, the Emperor saw this sign. According to Eusebius he saw it while in Gaul, and when making preparations for the war with Maxentius. Lactantius, however (a celebrated Christian historian and contemporary), states that Constantine saw the cross on the 26th October, 312, the day before the battle in which Maxentius was vanquished near Rome.† Others (ancient writers) would compromise it by supposing there were two appearances of the cross, and both in dreams—the first in Gaul and the second in Italy. Again, some suppose it was a pious fraud, and others that it was a trick of State. The first supposition is most improbable, for at the time the cross is said to have appeared to him Constantine thought nothing about spreading the Christian religion, but only about vanquishing Maxentius. Besides, he was not then a Christian, and the event was not used for the advancement of Christianity, but for the animation of his
[Footnote] * Eusebius, “De Vitâ Constantini,” l. i., c. 27.
[Footnote] † De Mortib. Persecut., ch. 44.

troops. The other supposition has more probability—indeed, we are told by Lactantius (l.c., ch. 46) that the Emperor Licinus (brother-in-law of Constantine) once resorted to something of this kind. But if Constantine had been inclined to use artifice in order to encourage his soldiers he would far more probably have represented Mars, or some other of the common deities.
An ancient writer has observed, “This sign is a subject involved in the greatest obscurities and difficulties. It is, however, an easy thing to refute those who regard this prodigy as a cunning fiction of the Emperor, or who rank it among fables; and also those who refer the phenomenon to natural causes, ingeniously conjecturing that the form of a cross appeared in a solar halo, or in the moon: and likewise those who ascribe the transaction to the power of God, who intended by a miracle to confirm the wavering faith of the Emperor. Now, all these suppositions being alike rejected, the only conclusion that remains is that Constantine saw in a dream, while asleep, the appearance of a cross with this inscription: ‘By this conquer.’”
But the splendid, clearly defined, and wonderful reflection in the sky mentioned above as seen and enjoyed by me seems to be another and still more reasonable and natural mode of accounting for that phenomenon, which appears to have escaped the notice of former writers. Indeed, Fabricius, in his learned work on this subject, admits that the appearance of visible words in the air cannot be explained; and so he resorts to a new exposition of the language of Eusebius for relief, and believes that the words “By this conquer” (τońτω víka = hoc vince) were not actually seen, but that the sense of them was emblematically figured in a crown of victory that appeared in the heavens. But if the Emperor intended to say this he expressed himself very obscurely. Moreover, he caused the very words mentioned to be affixed to the standards (labara) of the legions, and to the medals and other monuments of the event; and, further, all the ancient writers so understood the account given by Eusebius. Again (according to Eusebius*), the Emperor did not see the sign or form of a real cross, but the Greek letter X intersected perpendicularly by the letter ρ, thus—Eusebius says a great deal about it, also prefacing the Emperor's personal relation to him by remarking, “Perhaps had another declared this singular divine manifestation it would not easily be credited; but the victorious Emperor himself having related it to us, who write this,
[Footnote] * “De Vitâ Constantini,” l. i., § 28–31.

when we had, a long time afterwards, the privilege of knowing and conversing with him, and having confirmed it with an oath, who can hesitate to believe the account ?” Then Eusebius goes on to enter into it very minutely, as he had the story privately from the Emperor's own lips, who affirmed “that about the middle hours of the day, as the sun began to verge towards its setting, he saw in the heavens with his own eyes the sign, with its legend, and amazement seized him and the whole army at the sight, and the beholders wondered as they accompanied him in the march.” And he said “he was at a loss what to make of this spectre (τò φáσμa), and, as he pondered and reflected on it long, night came upon him by surprise,” &c.
Now, if this relation is all true, how happens it that no writer of that age says one word about the luminous cross in the heavens ? Lactantius mentions only the “dream,” in which Constantine was directed to use the sign of the cross; and the same is true of Sozomen (lib. i., c. 3), another ecclesiastical historian; and Rufinus, and others. Hence, too, it seems that the whole story was counted fabulous by the Pagans, which confirms the ancient statement and supposition that it was a dream. How came it that Eusebius himself said nothing about it in his “Ecclesiastical History,” which was written about twelve years after the said event, and about the same length of time before his “Life of Constantine”? Why does he rely solely on the testimony of the Emperor, and not even intimate that he ever heard of it from others, whereas, if true, many thousands must have been eye-witnesses of the fact ? What means his suggestions that some may question the truth of the story; and to confine himself simply to the Emperor's private representation to himself ? And how came the whole story of the luminous cross to be unknown to the Christian world for more than twenty-five years, and then to be made known only through a private conversation between Eusebius and Constantine ?
Here I may observe that the hour of the day, and almost the season of the year (as stated by Eusebius), and consequently the position of the sun in the heavens, pretty nearly correspond with the time and season in which I first noticed the phenomenon. Moreover, the onward movement of the train did not interrupt its appearing; and this also agrees with the march of the army. Further, the occasional refulgent image of the sun itself surrounding the other and darker imagery (as witnessed by me) serves to remind one of one of the ancient suppositions respecting that spectre seen by Constantine as being a solar halo. Of course, I do not mean to say that this which I have here adduced is the true solution of that old mysterious story, but merely that it has much

more of natural and reasonable supposition in it than any other (as far as I know) yet brought forward. And, further, the peculiar and true form of the so-called cross, or sign, as clearly given by Eusebius, both in words and in a figure, seems not unlike in outline that of a disarranged and multilated bundle of fasces as borne by the Roman lictors, with the small axe jutting out from the top instead of the middle of the broken bundle. Now, supposing the particular date of the sign being seen as given by Lactantius to be correct, would such a figure as a spoiled and broken bundle of fasces be considered as an ill-omen against Maxentius and the Roman army?
In fine, I may add that I have very often since seen the same reflected figures when travelling over the same ground in the express train on sunshiny days, though never so beautifully and vividly shown as on that day of dense white fog. I dare say that many other passengers may also have noticed it, though to see it at all one must keep close to the glass window and look up above the altitude of the carriage, and there, with attention and a fixed gaze, watch for its appearance.
