4
Tom Lynch
In the previous chapter, we established a basic structure for miracle petitions. A person in crisis with knowledge of a specific saint could ask that saint for help. This could be as simple as a brief prayer but may have involved a great degree of elaboration. The process of petitioning miracles was at the heart of the cult of the saints. The saints were called upon for all sorts of favours, ranging widely in scale and nature. However, not all miracles were as obviously beneficent as cures of the ailing, the freeing of prisoners and the rescue of those in danger. Across England and throughout the period, punitive miracles were recorded in the hagiography as demonstrations of holy power and a guide to expected behaviour. An example of a vengeful saint and a rather foolish man can be found in the anonymous Miracula S. Swithuni:
One time when some men of the same town were, in accordance with popular fashion, attending the funeral rites of some dead man, and were performing the incantations of the funeral games foolishly and wantonly after the manner of the Bacchantes, one of them, possessed by a sudden madness of garrulity and presumption, said, ‘I am that St Swithun who is renowned everywhere for his signs and miracles; and I am prepared, if you should wish to placate me with gifts and prayers, to attend to the health both of your bodies and souls, with God acting mercifully through me on you.’ Punishment from the Enemy – through whose prompting he had fallen into such audacity of wantonness – straightway follows these words of rashness and lunacy; without any delay at all he is struck down, and once struck down he is ravaged for three whole days by a wretched torment.1
Such ‘savage little stories’ as this help to show us what saints and their custodians found unacceptable.2 They also show the contested elements of the cult of the saints, where people resisted the saint’s influence and how these people enacted their critique. Punitive miracles could come reactively from a saint, but they could be petitioned like a cure. Either way the vengeance of a saint was to be feared, and those foolish enough to provoke a saint did well to reconcile themselves quickly.
The first post-mortem punitive miracles written down in our period are from Ramsey, one each in Abbo’s passio of Edmund and Byrhtferth’s life of Ecgwine. In Abbo’s text, Edmund froze some would-be thieves as they tried to rob his shrine at night. They were found in place the next day, caught and hung for their attempted crime. Edmund also caused a rich man called Leofstan to go insane. Leofstan impiously demanded to inspect the saint’s incorrupt body, lost his mind when looking upon it and died a wretched death.3 Byrhtferth records Ecgwine’s wrath on a single occasion. A peasant entered into a property dispute with Eve-sham. Prior Wigred took up Evesham’s part, and it was decided that the truth of the matter would be settled through taking an oath on Ecgwine’s relics. Wigred prayed before the relics, sang the seven penitential psalms on bended knee and invoked Ecgwine as his helper. He set out with his companions to the preordained place for the trial, and when they arrived, they set the relics down. The peasant attempted to trick the saint by placing some soil from his home in his shoe, so that when he vowed that he stood on his own land he would be correct. Ecgwine was not fooled, and the peasant decapitated himself with his own scythe. His body was thrown from Ecgwine’s land, and he did not receive a proper funeral.4
Byrhtferth presents us with the earliest hagiographical depiction of an oath sworn on the relics of a saint. Relic oaths were widespread from the fifth century but began to give way to oaths sworn on the Gospels around 1000, and by the thirteenth century, Gospel oaths were the dominant form.5 These oaths were usually part of a lawsuit, an oath of office or an oath of loyalty.6 All relic oaths involved the saint concerned in the process and left the parties open to retribution if they proved false. Alongside the extreme cases found in the hagiography are oaths which have survived from other texts. Relics were required for oaths of fealty in Edmund’s laws, for legal oaths in Æthelred’s laws and perhaps the English coronation service itself.7 In a law of Æthelred priests, reeves and hundred-men were required to swear a relic oath promising that they would oversee a special period of almsgiving and fasting, undertaken to try and repel the Viking threat.8 A relic oath was also at the centre of the events leading up to the Norman Conquest, when Harold Godwinson, who had been shipwrecked in northern France in 1064, supposedly swore a relic oath to support William of Normandy as Edward the Confessor’s heir. This event was depicted on the Bayeux Tapestry as well as being noted by several chroniclers following the Norman Conquest.9 Indeed, in some sources, William wore these same relics around his neck at the Battle of Hastings, reinforcing the broken oath as central to the downfall of Harold.10
There is evidence of six other relic oaths in the hagiography. Goscelin records a land dispute between Osgot the Dane and Winchcombe in the reign of King Cnut. The relics of Kenelm were brought out as adjudicator, and the parties were to prove their right to the property by swearing an oath on the relics before twenty-four noble peers. When Osgot went to swear his oath, he was miraculously knocked back. All present prostrated themselves before Kenelm and said the land was his, and Osgot went insane and died not long after. Also in this collection is the story of Godric’s cheating of the people by fraud in rent collecting. Godric’s crime was revealed when he was called to swear on Kenelm’s relics and was subsequently struck dumb.11 A property dispute involving Sherborne Abbey was settled by using the relics of Wulfsige as arbitrator. Needless to say, the case was found in favour of the monastery.12 Another land dispute at Evesham was written down by Dominic. Abbot Osweard (c. 970–975) prayed for help, a Mass was said before the relics of Ecgwine and finally the relics were taken to the preordained spot. The tribunal stated that the man must lift the relics from the land he was claiming and swear an oath. The man swore by his beard he would lift relics, but he was unable to do so and plucked off his beard.13 Bege’s bracelet was believed to be effective against perjury if sworn on. When Walter de Spec bore false witness in a land dispute with the mother house of St Bee’s, St Mary’s, York, the saint’s bracelet was brought for him to swear on. Walter maintained his falsehood and was punished by the death of his son Roger, who had been complicit in the lawsuit. Walter, in his grief, returned the land to the monastery and confirmed it with a charter, and now lacking an heir, he left his wealth to religious houses. Another man perjured himself whilst swearing on Bege’s bracelet in a property dispute and was afflicted with demonic possession. He remained possessed for ten years until he gave in, went to Bege’s shrine and was cured following prayers and vigils.14
Saints were involved in lawsuits beyond the use of their relics in oaths. Herman relates that Bishop Herfast of Elmham and Thetford sought to undermine the independence of Bury and brought a lawsuit against them, with an eye to moving his see there and reforming the monastery by introducing canons. A back and forth between the Bishop and Abbot Baldwin ensued. Herfast was seriously injured by a branch hitting him in the eyes while riding in the woods. Normal medicine did not help him, and he was persuaded to set aside his case and go to Edmund. The Bishop confessed his sins and wrongdoings before king’s men and disowned those advisers who had been encouraging him in his wrongs. He then approached the high altar weeping and placed his crozier on top. He begged Edmund for absolution and sang the seven penitential psalms prostrate. Then he received medicine from Baldwin, and the monks prayed to Edmund on his behalf. Soon he was healed, and Herfast preached about the merits of the saint on Edmund’s feast. However, Herfast went back on his word and resumed the case under the counsel of bad men. The case was found in favour of Bury, its independence was codified in a charter and Herfast had to pay a fine.15
In the mid-twelfth-century miracles of Guthlac, the Abbot of Crowland requested the return of a small parcel of land leased to a farmer named Asford. The farmer refused, and this led to a lawsuit. The Abbot and monks of Crowland prayed to God and Guthlac for help in the suit, whereas Asford bribed the judges. Asford died falling from his horse when he left to attend the lawsuit, and his accomplices, fearing divine retribution, went to the Abbot and begged forgiveness from Guthlac. An oath declaring the land to be property of Crowland was taken, and Asford’s accomplices were forgiven. On the way to Asford’s burial, the procession passed the meadow in question. When the bier reached the meadow, it fell to the floor, demonstrating Guthlac’s part in Asford’s death.16
Modwenna was particularly active in litigation, and Geoffrey of Burton records several instances of the saint’s punitive action. Aelfwine, a royal official, had done much harm to Burton. He found against Modwenna’s men in a lawsuit and was boasting of it at home. Aelfwine’s head slipped in his hand, and he put out his eye with his thumb. The official spent the remainder of his life milder and more conscientious to Burton and Modwenna. Henry, lord of Swadlincote, was overly watchful of his boundaries with the monastery and a bad neighbour who also seized wandering animals. One day he brought a lawsuit against Burton. The monks prayed to Modwenna, and the knight fell ill before the case was heard. Henry realised his situation and performed penance, confessed and begged forgiveness and prayers from the monks and Modwenna. He made arrangements for his household and asked to be buried in the monastery, offering his property in return. This came to pass when he shortly died, but through his actions, he saved his soul. In the brief summaries which end Geoffrey’s collection, he mentions that a man brought a lawsuit against Burton over land, but before the day of the trial, he broke his neck hunting. Finally, Geoffrey notes that various perjurers in property disputes were impoverished, killed or driven mad.17
Bege was also asked to help in a property lawsuit by the monks of her priory. The monks feared they would be found against prejudicially and prayed to the saint. A heavy snowfall covered Copeland, except for the land properly belonging to the priory, which settled the lawsuit in favour of Bege.18 There is only one petition to a saint on a matter of law which could be judged to have failed. Abbot Simeon of Ely (1082–1094) was unsatisfied with the military provisions and demands asked of the Abbey by William I. He consulted the monks of Ely who told the Abbot to pray to Æthelthryth and to seek an audience with the King. Simeon obeyed his charges, but William was disinclined to ease the pressure on the monastery. The author goes on to describe the king’s death, which occurred soon after the audience, although William’s demise was not directly linked to the intercession of Æthelthryth.19
Linked to these lawsuit miracles are concerns over land ownership. Edmund, Edith, Ivo, Augustine, Guthlac, Æthelthryth and Bege all took action against those encroaching on their territory. A Norman courtier seized one of Bury’s manors and was punished with an eye condition. He attempted to get a cure by offering a candle, but Edmund and God rejected it, and it broke into nine pieces. Also Robert de Curcun and his men were stupefied and driven off by extreme weather after seizing land from Edmund for grazing Robert’s horses. Only two of his men escaped, one of whom went insane whilst the other succumbed to frenzy.20 Agamund, a king’s thegn, illegally occupied some of Wilton’s land and was struck dead without repenting. The dead man rose from his grave and spoke, asking for help and pity and telling of the power and wrath of Edith. Agamund asked directly for Queen Emma’s (1017–1035) aid and said that the land should be restored to Edith. His pleas were repeated until Emma was persuaded to visit the dead man. The Queen calmed Agamund and saw that the land was given back, and after that he rested undisturbed. Another man, Brihtric, also took land from Wilton. He died of illness and refused to return the property. In a vision, Brihtric was shown hiding from Edith, and he asked for prayers to be said for his tormented soul.21
A noble of Henry I tried to extort two villages from Ramsey’s control. These villages were judged to be Ramsey’s property, and the noble was injured falling from his horse and his retinue afflicted with various misfortunes. The noble was taken to the church of Ivo at Slepe and there kept vigil for a few days. The noble gradually got better, then went to Ramsey and begged forgiveness from Abbot Bernard (1102–1107) and Ivo himself and gave thanks for his healing.22 In Norwich a man named Copman claimed the land on which a church of Augustine had been built. Copman was struck with insanity, and his parents led him around the churches of Norwich, finally coming to the same church of Augustine on the eve of his feast. There Copman’s parents brought candles and kept vigil with their son and the other supplicants, praying to Augustine for help, and in the morning, the issue subsided.23
A monk of Spalding Priory had a perverse dislike for Guthlac and quibbled over the border with Crowland, the mother house of the priory. The monk was blinded but swiftly recognised the wrongs he had perpetrated and went to Guthlac for forgiveness. He took a votive candle and confessed before the relics of Guthlac, tearfully imploring the saint to aid him. The monks of Crowland took up his cause despite their dislike of the man, and he was cured by the intercession of Guthlac, letting go of all land disputes and reconciling himself to the monks of Crowland.24 Picot, Sheriff of Cambridge, seized some of Ely’s land but claimed ignorance. His fate was unknown, but his disappearance was attributed to Æthelthryth.25 Godard, a knight of Egremont Castle, pastured his horses on land belonging to St Bee’s Priory. He and his followers mocked the saint and left their horses there for some time. When they returned, they found the horses’ hooves had been miraculously severed. Crowds gathered to witness the miracle, and Godard, suitably chastened, gave the land over to the priory and provided a charter as proper proof of ownership.26
These miracles reveal concerns of the custodians and their saints over the legal process. People may lie, bribe officials and attempt other forms of trickery. There was also always the potential for those judging a case to find against the saint’s foundation. It was wise, then, to prepare before an important case in the same manner one would when confronted with any problem, by engaging in a petition. The question of who to approach in these cases had an obvious answer, as the local saint was both a part of and a patron of their religious house. A visit to the shrine was the done thing, with a degree of elaboration, just to make certain of the saint’s help as religious houses could lose lawsuits. Of course, as a self-interested agent, a saint could act unilaterally in defence of their home and reputation. Either way the saints could kill, maim, send illness or bad luck against their legal opponents or miraculously ensure their side won a dispute. Bege seems to have been particularly versatile, using the weather and disabling horses as well as killing and allowing someone to become possessed. When those punished survived their fate, they could perform their own petition in turn. In these cases, the saint stood, in some sense, as both the cause of and solution to the life crises afflicting the supplicant.27 Though, of course, the saint and their custodians would see the supplicant as the source of their own downfall. A punitive miracle could be an occasion for reconciliation, bringing or reintroducing an individual into the saint’s community. But the same saint who forgave one perpetrator might kill another outright. Despite all of the consequences, people still brought lawsuits against religious houses and seized their property. The religious houses also relied on the legal system and placed importance on decisions in trials, principles of private property and the use of charters. The communities of the saints remained vulnerable to the law and physical force, and they sought to mitigate this through soliciting and recording miracles of vengeance. Land was not the only asset at risk, and the theft of a saint’s movable property, or that of their community, was equally unacceptable.
When Edmund prevented the theft at his shrine by freezing the perpetrators, those thieves were apprehended and put to death. The presiding Bishop, Theodred of London (909/926–951/953), is said to have regretted these executions, fasting for three days and praying for forgiveness.28 There appears to be a slight disconnect here between the saint and the Bishop. Edmund only froze the perpetrators in place, but Theodred sought further punishment. In such matters, most people left the saint to determine the nature and severity of the penalty. Divine justice could be merciful as well as lethal. Edmund’s intervention here is the first miraculous defence against thieves found in the English record. Edmund stopped another thief later in the period, as recorded by Herman. Two ornaments were stolen from Edmund’s feretory. When this was discovered, the monks prostrated themselves before Edmund, prayed for vengeance and recited the seven penitential psalms. The thief struck again, but this time he was unable to get rid of his spoils, nor could he leave Bury. He struck a third time, pretending to kiss the shrine but taking a coin with his lips. The sacristan and his servants were watching, and they beat him and recovered the stolen property. The thief confessed and was flogged, branded and banished.29 This second depiction has the same outcome as the first in that the criminals were intercepted and punished after the saint became involved. Where they differ is that in Herman’s account, the monks of Bury engaged in a petition to gain a response from Edmund.
Other saints also took action against thieves. There was a devoted man who would go on pilgrimage to visit Edmund every year, and would also visit Guthlac’s shrine on the way, who lost his prize pig. He thought a local official might be responsible, although the official denied any part. After exhausting human recourse, the man prayed to God and Guthlac for help on bended knee and with hands raised to the sky. As he finished his prayer, the leader’s barn burst into flames and quickly fell into ashes, and the pig was retrieved from inside untouched by the heat.30 Another thief stole from a boy employed by the community at Durham Cathedral. In his distress, the boy invoked Cuthbert, and the man went blind. The thief’s sight was partially restored after he confessed his crime, returned the stolen goods and went to Cuthbert’s shrine.31 Here we see petitions on both sides of the miracle, with the boy praying to Cuthbert and the thief confessing and visiting Cuthbert in search of a cure. In order for supplicants to enlist a saint in the defence of their property, they had to be aware of the crime or potential for a crime. More often than not, protective miracles were reactive on the part of the saint, with no prompting from supplicants. This is the case for many of the other saints, who prevented theft or punished thieves, including Wulfsige, Edith, Ivo, Modwenna, Bege, Oswine and the saints of Hexham.32
Of course, in order to have been recorded as a miracle, the offence had to have eventually become known. This could be through confession, evidence, divine revelation or the behaviour of the guilty party. For example, the Viking raider who stole the covering from Augustine’s tomb was far from subtle in his crime. Unfortunately for the raider, the cloth covering stuck to his hands, and he was only freed through tearful prayer and promising to lead a Christian life.33 A thief tried to rob a man donating to Ecgwine while his relics were on tour in Oxford. On dipping into the man’s purse a third time, the thief got his hand stuck. He was spotted and caught. The usual practice was to sentence thieves to death, but the monks prayed to Ecgwine that the man be spared, and the saint saved him. Also in Dominic’s collection, a man had gleaned money from servants of Ecgwine by deceit. He had a vision of Ecgwine, but he ignored it. The man subsequently fell off his horse hurt. This sequence of events happened a second and a third time. Finally the man returned the money to Evesham; the owners were recalled, forgave him and had the money donated to Ecgwine.34 At the end of the twelfth-century life of Osyth, there is another story of a theft. Some sailors were forced to take shelter at a harbour near to Chich, where Osyth was buried. The sailors were stuck for some time and went to the church to pray with the locals. One of the sailors took a small piece of marble from the church. He carried it on board the ship, and shortly the weather improved and they looked to set sail. Whilst other ships could depart, the ship with the marble was stuck, and eventually they figured out the cause. The sailors took the marble back to Osyth, begged forgiveness and offered it up like a votive. This seems to have been acceptable, as when they went back down to their ship, they set sail without incident.35
More serious than theft of votives or robbing supplicants was the stealing of relics. Unlike the pious theft of relics in some translations, these thefts were not performed with the saint’s consent and are framed very differently in the hagiography. An official of Bishop Flambard of Durham (1099–1128) stole some of Cuthbert’s Gospel-book. During the next night, he developed severe pain and swelling in his leg. The man sent for a priest and confessed his crime. The priest prayed, and the man was forgiven and partially healed. He then limped with a stick to Cuthbert’s shrine and returned the relic. The official was cured more fully whilst praying at the shrine.36 Ecgwine treated relic theft just as severely. A woman named Ealdgyth regularly visited the relics of Ecgwine, and the idea came to her to steal some part of them. She recruited some boys to steal for her, with gifts and the promise of more to come. They went at night and got a piece of the saint’s arm and one of his teeth. The boys gave these to Ealdgyth, and she put them reverently into a home-made shrine. She was told in three visions to take them back by Ecgwine, but she refused. Ealdgyth was struck blind, one of the boys was drowned and another was crippled, and the monastery eventually got the relics back.37 Translations provided an opportunity to attempt to steal relics. During Edith’s translation at Wilton, a monk tried to cut off some of the saint’s clothing. He missed and instead cut the saint, sending out a great torrent of blood. The monk threw down his knife, prostrated himself and wept at what he had done. When he rose up having performed penance, no blood could be seen. Also during the translation, a nun tried to take a piece of Edith’s headband, but the saint’s head lifted up and frightened the nun into properly revering the saints.38
Like the legal miracles, vengeance against thieves supplemented the existing judicial framework. These miracles show us that materiality mattered to the saints, both in terms of cult objects imbued with their power and the mundane belongings of their community. The wealth circulating within the communities of the saints drew in thieves, but wealth was not necessarily bad as long as it was put to good use. Victims of these crimes could call upon the saints in the hopes that their property would be returned or that the perpetrator would be punished. Then these perpetrators, too, could petition the saint for intercession and forgiveness. This redemptive arc again highlights how the cult of the saints could augment the legal system, favouring a change in a person rather than incarceration. Death was only meted out for marauders and certain relic thieves and shrine plunderers.39 How readily the community accepted these reformed thieves is difficult to say, but the ideal of reincorporation through successful petition is clear in these examples. The grand occasions like feast days and translations seem to have been exploited by thieves. Translations were also prime opportunities to handle and inspect the body of a saint, although this was done with trepidation lest those involved be punished for a lack of reverence. Some people were unable to suppress the desire to investigate the contents of a saint’s tomb and, in their rush or ignorance, behaved inappropriately.
The bodies of incorrupt saints were particularly enticing to the curious. Our record for such improper inspection is limited to Edmund and Æthelthryth. In London, whilst the relics of Edmund were in exile, a Dane was blinded for looking under the cover of the bier out of curiosity. He then prayed contritely for forgiveness and was healed by Edmund. Abbot Leofstan (1044–1065) was punished for tugging on Edmund’s head during an inspection of the relics, with permanent paralysis of his hands.40 At the end of Goscelin’s miracle collection, there are two punitive miracles concerning Edmund’s relics. Toli the sacristan rashly checked the incorruption of Edmund with Prior William, his assistant Spearhavoc and Hereward the goldsmith. All four were killed, although Toli, who was otherwise good, had a chance to confess before dying and received the last rites. Toli appeared to the monk Edwin to proclaim he was not yet in Heaven and to tell him his tale and asked him and the other monks to pray to God and Edmund on his behalf. Before six months had passed, Toli appeared again to tell Edwin he had entered into Heaven. While Herman was preaching at Pentecost, he had the bloody underclothes of Edmund shown to the crowd. This was done in a disorderly and disrespectful fashion, and Herman was killed for his part in it. Toli had appeared a third time to Edwin, asking why they provoked God and Edmund, and thus, all knew the reason for Herman’s death. The monks were told to perform penance and must have done so successfully as none of them are reported as having been killed.41
The anonymous life of Æthelthryth contains two miracles concerning the saint’s body. Firstly a Viking raider tried to break into Æthelthryth’s tomb in search of treasure. He made a hole in the marble tomb with his axe, swiftly had both his eyes put out and died. Later a senior priest who led the community and had recently come to Ely sought to investigate Æthelthryth’s incorruption by poking around through this hole with sticks and a candle for light, trying to take a piece of the saint’s clothing. After this attempt, a plague struck the priest’s house, which killed his family and caught up with the priest himself in his hiding place. Following this, two of the priest’s helpers were killed, and one was driven insane. Another priest, named Ælfhelm, was paralysed for his part, but he sought forgiveness and was healed by Æthelthryth.42
Miracles of vengeance in response to improper inspections emphasise the power of the saints and the need for caution that is represented in many of the translation accounts. There is a sense that the body of the saint in particular was secret, a sight reserved for the specially selected. This group was largely made up of clerics, monks and nuns, and the perpetrators in four of these six miracles were religious. The other two miracles punish a marauding Viking and an overly curious Dane, both foreigners who probably acted out of ignorance. The violence of the Viking was met with a violent death, whereas the Dane was blinded but able to reconcile himself to Edmund through a petition. The religious perpetrators, however, should have known better than to behave in such a manner and were treated with harsh responses from Edmund and Æthelthryth. Only Abbot Leofstan escaped with his life, and only the sacristan Toli was given a chance to save his soul through the intercession of the monks of Bury and Edmund himself. Here we have departed from the legal framework of medieval England and entered into a kind of self-defence by the saints. Incorruption was a rare miracle, and a saint’s body and relics were to be respected anyway.43 Even these taboos, which were so much a part of the cult of the saints, were not enough, and people’s curiosity got the better of them. Beyond their property and their bodies, saints were also very concerned with defending the people who made up their communities.
At Hexham a rich man, Aldan, was punished by the local saints for carrying off a girl in lust and killing her brother, who was trying to protect her. Aldan’s hand contorted around the offending spear, and this hand was withered for the rest of his life.44 Bege struck a young man named John dead for raping another man’s wife when she was returning home from observing the vigil of Pentecost at St Bee’s.45 The sheriff of Wilton imprisoned two local priests, and Abbess Wulfthryth called on Edith for help. Without delay the priests were released, and the sheriff bit off his own tongue and died.46 Those who sought sanctuary at a shrine were also protected by the saints. Again Edith defended her people when some guards pursued a thief into the saint’s shrine. The thief claimed sanctuary, and the guards were blinded for invading the saint’s shrine to take away this newest member of her community.47
Edith was not alone in taking punitive action against those who defied a saint’s sanctuary. Sheriff Leofstan ordered the sanctuary of Edmund’s shrine at Bury to be violated by seizing a woman from there whom he wished to prosecute. The woman was taken, but the monks genuflected, prayed and sang litanies and the seven penitential psalms.48 Leofstan was driven insane, which distracted the guards, and the woman was freed. Leofstan died still possessed by insanity.49 One of Earl Tostig’s (1055–65) men tried to capture a prisoner who had escaped to Cuthbert. In defying the saint’s sanctuary, one of the men fell into a fit and died in three days.50 During the rebellion in the north of England following the Norman Conquest, people took sanctuary at the shrine of John of Beverley as a last resort. Soldiers led by their officer, Thurstan, attacked a refugee and followed them into Beverley Minster. Those gathered prayed for help, and Thurstan fell paralysed from his horse. The people praised John as their saviour, and the other soldiers threw down their weapons. William I was informed of this and was sorry for the inappropriate behaviour of his troops. As recompense the King confirmed and enlarged Beverley’s holdings and gave the minster gifts. Thurstan himself was taken to John’s tomb and prayed. The officer’s illness was cured after a few days, and he made a gift every year to John.51
Though not representative of formal sanctuary, Ivo’s shrine was where a servant fled to in running away from their angry master. The master said he forgave the servant, but he lied and later beat the servant and mocked his faith in Ivo. The master was struck down by illness and finally summoned the servant and asked forgiveness. The servant was sent to Ivo to ask the saint to forgive his master, and following prayer the master was healed. The servant was no longer mistreated by his master, and eventually he was freed.52 Similarly, students took refuge from angry teachers at the shrines of Eormenhild, Hadrian and Erkenwald, with any attempts to remove the students from their patrons punished.53 Sanctuary was also claimed at the shrines of Augustine, Ecgwine and Bege.54 Additionally, Mildrith offered sanctuary to a thief who escaped his captors. The miracle was praised by Abbot Scotland (1070–1087), and he took the case before King William I, accompanied by Archbishop Lanfranc. The King confirmed the validity of claiming sanctuary at St Augustine’s.55
With these protective miracles, the saints are found working around the fringes of the legal system again. Rapists, murderers and kidnappers were all punished for their crimes against members of a saint’s community. Whilst the principle of sanctuary was enshrined in law,56 there seems to have been some resistance when it came to claiming sanctuary at a saint’s shrine. This left the saints to reinforce their role as defenders of all the faithful who sought protection. The case of St Augustine’s and the King’s proclamation shows how temporal authority could combine with the miraculous spiritual authority of the saints, although, as noted previously, there is no surviving evidence for such a proclamation. The saints’ role as protector was particularly used by those who had nobody else to turn to: servants, students and those accused of crimes. Reaching a shrine and petitioning the saint there was the most effective – and perhaps the only – defence against those with more money and power than you.
As well as being concerned with the freedom of their people, saints were also concerned with keeping their people in the right place. Ivo, Mildrith and Dunstan all used punitive measures to encourage wavering religious to remain in their service.57 At Burton, Modwenna took interest in the fate of the abbey’s lay tenants. Two of these tenants moved from the village of Stapenhill to Drakelow without the permission of Abbot Geoffrey but under the protection of Baron Roger the Poitevin. The Abbot responded by confiscating the crops of the offenders. The disloyal tenants then incited Roger to take action against Burton, culminating in armed conflict between the baron’s men and knights attached to the abbey. The two tenants were suddenly struck dead and buried in Stapenhill, but they rose from their graves to haunt Drakelow, not only horrifying the inhabitants but also spreading disease and death in the village. Seeing these horrors, Roger repented of his crimes, came with his knights to Burton to beg forgiveness and asked that the monks help to placate God and Modwenna. Roger declared he would reimburse the abbey with double restitution for any damages, and he left calmer for his visit. The baron fulfilled his vow and had the money delivered when the sum had been calculated. The local bishop gave permission to exhume the bodies of the offenders, whose shrouds were found to be covered in blood. The corpses were beheaded, the heads placed between their legs and the hearts burnt. When the two remaining peasants of Drakelow, sick in bed, saw the smoke from this fire, they were immediately healed. They got up, gathered their family and possessions, gave thanks to God and Modwenna and left for nearby Gresley. Drakelow remained abandoned as a site of ill fame.58 The saints were willing to go to great lengths to keep their people in place. Once a person was a part of a saint’s community, it appears it was difficult to leave without permission. Ivo and Mildrith encouraged people with the promise of reincorporation and forgiveness after their indiscretions, whereas Dunstan and Modwenna resorted to killing their disloyal subjects, having exhausted all other options. Whilst these miracles are not very common in the corpus, they highlight the problem of an institution losing control over its members. The saints could be relied upon to help the custodians keep people in their right place when it was necessary, just as the hagiographers could be relied upon to record such miracles.
In the middle of the conflict described by Geoffrey, before the death of the two tenants, the monks of Burton humiliated Modwenna in hopes of gaining her help. According to Geoffrey, ‘[The] monks entered the church, barefoot and groaning and, in tears, set down on the ground the shrine of the blessed virgin containing her most holy bones. In unison they addressed a desperate appeal to the Lord.’59 The humiliation of the saints was a phenomenon mainly found in France that occurred between the sixth and the thirteenth centuries.60 A humiliation could be performed both as a part of the Mass during the clamor or as a separate ceremony. Originally the clamor was a cry for help which occurred between the Pater Noster and the Pax Domini. The clamor could include a humiliation of the local saint, where the community descended from the choir and perhaps prostrated themselves whilst the major relics and images were placed on the floor.61 Little has identified three English manuscripts of the clamor, which he describes as ‘northern French imports’.62 In addition there is a clamor text in the Christ Church, Canterbury pontifical of around 1100, Trinity College, Dublin, MS 98.63 The English liturgical texts do not contain references to the humiliation of relics. The clamor in the Mass was a temporary measure compared to the more elaborate separate ceremony that is recorded in a liturgical text for St Martin’s at Tours. At Tours the canons began the humiliation after the hour of prime had been rung. They gathered in the church and sung the seven penitential psalms and a litany whilst seniors placed the reliquaries and a silver crucifix on the ground. The tomb of Martin and a large wooden crucifix were covered in thorns, and all but one of the church doors were blocked with thorns. The office for the day was conducted in a subdued manner until the clamor in the Mass, after which the service was finished in a loud voice.64
The humiliation of the saints was not unknown in the British Isles, but it was not widespread. The ceremony was used by Archbishop John Cumin of Dublin (1150–1212) against Norman confiscations of Church land in 1197. This humiliation lasted some days and included the miraculous weeping and bleeding of a crucifix. In Wales, the Book of Llandaff, containing material from the sixth to the twelfth century, includes nine uses of the humiliation of relics.65 There is a description of a clamor directed at Cuthbert in Reginald of Coldingham’s Miracula S. Cuthberti, but it does not contain a full humiliation.66 The only other English example comes from the Anglo-Norman version of the life of Osyth, unique to the thirteenth-century manuscript, British Library, Additional 70513.67 That Abbot Geoffrey and the monks of Burton thought it necessary to humiliate the relics of Modwenna indicates the seriousness of the threat from Roger. The situation quickly escalated from a relatively trivial defection of two tenants to a violent impasse with a powerful secular force. The humiliation of the relics and the threat from Roger required an extreme response from the saint. Here Modwenna not only killed the perpetrators, but through their haunting, the saint also rendered Drakelow uninhabitable. Loyalty to a saint was of the utmost import, and once a relationship was entered into, it was best to remain on good terms with a saint. Such proprietary behaviour by a saint over the land, goods and people associated with them is revealing. Acting as ‘undying landlords’, the saints were important both as guarantors of the rights and properties of a foundation and as owners and defenders of these same foundations.68 Saints were not passive, and they ‘talked (back), owned property, and on occasion fought to protect it’.69 This talking and fighting back was not limited to offences against the property and people under a saint’s protection, however. Some people took it upon themselves to mock the saints and deride their potency as intercessors. Unsurprisingly such behaviour was met with punishment.
Sigal, in his study of miracles in eleventh- and twelfth-century France, divides punitive miracles into those performed in defence of people and things under a saint’s protection and those performed in defence of the saint.70 The cult of the saints in England was fundamental to society and embroiled in structures of spiritual and material power, but it was not immune to critique and mockery. Ivo’s cult was questioned by two individuals. First Alwold, a man from Stanton, put a white hen on the altar at Slepe not as a votive but to stir gossip. Alwold bent his leg to pretend to be crippled and asked Ivo for help, looking to make fun of the saint. This faked ailment was made real by Ivo. Alwold begged the saint to restore him but to no avail. Goscelin notes that Alwold was lucky not to have been struck dead for his mockery. On another occasion, a foreign monk was afflicted by weakness for claiming that the taking of Ivo’s water was a superstition. The monk was cured after many prayers before Ivo’s body at Ramsey.71
In London, a drunk silversmith named Eustace entered the workshop in which the wooden frame of a new shrine for Erkenwald was being gilded and made offensive remarks to the workers. Eustace then hid himself in the shrine and cried, ‘I am the most holy Erkenwald: bring me gifts; ask for my help; make me a sepulchre of silver!’ Following this, Eustace was seized by a severe pain and was borne by his weeping comrades to his bed, where he died several days later. Arcoid explains that the saint was right to react harshly to such provocation.72 As mentioned previously, in Winchester, a drunk man attending a wake declared himself to be St Swithun and stated that he would cure any ailment in exchange for gifts and prayers. He was struck down on the spot until his family took pity on him and delivered him to Swithun’s shrine, where they petitioned the saint. The man was forgiven his blasphemy and healed.73
These miracles of vengeance centre on concerns over the petitionary process and the status of the saints. Alwold, Eustace and the drunk at the wake did not merely mock the saints; they impersonated them and portrayed the saints as greedy. Material offerings to the saints were thought of by these men as the primary means of gaining a miracle. Eustace was killed outright for jumping in Erkenwald’s new shrine, which he may have understood as another bribe for the saint. In presenting his white hen as a mock offering, Alwold no doubt caused a scene as he had hoped, and this miracle in some ways echoes the declaration by the foreign monk that the taking of Ivo’s water was superstition. This implies that some people considered the miracle petitions in the same domain as magic and folk medicine. Alwold’s behaviour also brings into question the veracity of supplicants’ ailments and injuries, although according to Goscelin, such behaviour would be detected and punished. The drunk man seems to have the measure of Swithun, in that the saint could deal with any problem and that generally this required petitionary action on behalf of the supplicant. It appears that it was his imitation and his bald presentation of the reciprocal character of the cult of the saints which got him into trouble.
The saints were also keen to defend against perceived lapses in proper veneration. Ivo admonished two monks of Ramsey in visions, one for neglecting to say psalms every day and one for not kneeling or bowing to the saint when he passed his tomb.74 Edith appeared in a vision to comfort and admonish sisters who complained that the saint had not healed them of an epidemic which had hit the nunnery at Wilton.75 The decline of Seaxburh’s community on Sheppey was attributed to a lack of thanksgiving and veneration of the saint and God by the people of the island.76 Mildrith visited her devotee Ælfwold in a series of visions in order to get her former resting place, the church of Peter and Paul at Thanet, renovated by St Augustine’s. Eventually Ælfwold convinced his local priest to go to St Augustine’s, where they glorified Mildrith for her miraculous visitations and gave him sixty shillings for repairs.77 A novice at Ely named Edwin left compline early one night and was possessed by a demon. Although the possession was not directly caused by Æthelthryth, the saint did intercede to help the young man, and the author of the Liber Eliensis was keen to point out the ways the Devil takes advantage of those who slip in their duties.78
Another way people slighted the saints was to question their efficacy as inter-cessors. Edith also appeared to Thola, a nun of Wilton, to tell her that Ealdgyth, another nun of Wilton who was at Salisbury, had refuted Edith’s power. Ealdgyth claimed that Edith had not protected the monastery’s possessions sufficiently. Thola confronted Ealdgyth on her return, who repented for her sin and begged forgiveness from the community, Thola and Edith.79 Goscelin records that a woman named Eudochia mocked the icon of Augustine kept in the church, dedicated to Augustine and Nicholas at Constantinople. The icon was dirty, and Eudochia commented on this and asked who this saint was and why he could not even protect his own image. She was informed by her friend that Augustine was the Apostle of the English sent by Gregory the Great and known both in England and Europe and that it was not proper to mock such a saint. That night Eudochia had a vision of Augustine, who sentenced her to an eye complaint that would not respond to medicine. It was so when Eudochia awoke, and her mocking turned to prayers to Augustine. She suffered for some time, and others began to pray on her behalf whilst Eudochia herself made vows and offered gifts. She had a second vision and was told that Augustine had agreed to intercede on account of Eudochia’s devout friend and that the icon should be restored. In exchange, not only would Augustine cure Eudochia, but he would also see that her friend’s husband would return safely from pilgrimage. The icon was restored, and both miracles came to pass, the friends thanked Augustine and his name became widely known throughout Greece.80 In the same collection, a soldier named Odo asked why Augustine had not better protected his old see of Canterbury from degradation. For such insolence, Odo was struck down with a severe illness. Bedbound for seven weeks, he kept vigil, flagellated himself and prayed. Finally Odo rose up healed, went on hands and knees to Augustine’s tomb, where he gave humble thanks, and vowed to repeat this devotion every year. The monks of St Augustine’s heard of this and praised the saint.81
People continued to doubt the saints’ power and to be punished for it until the end of our period. Bege killed a young Galwegian named Belial for claiming he could not be punished by the saint for the crimes he committed on her land.82 Some men of Hexham on pilgrimage encountered a cleric who questioned Acca’s credentials and mocked the men. This cleric fell into a fit, and the cleric’s sister was greatly upset. One of the young men took pity on her and asked if they believed Acca could help them in this crisis. The cleric woke up from his fit and affirmed his new belief, asking to be prayed for. The young man prayed, and when he finished, the cleric was healed. After this no one was more fervent a believer in Acca than the cleric, who invoked the saint’s help and sought consolation in the face of many travails.83 Of course abuse could be more general, and Cuth-bert struck Onlafbald dead for abusing the saint in his church and nearly killed a householder who mocked the saint and his followers who were journeying south. The householder was restored to health following the prayers of the monks, and there was much rejoicing.84 Similarly Æthelthryth and her two sisters appeared to Gervase, who was hostile to the saint and the abbey at Ely. Gervase died screaming, and the abbot spread word of the miracle, causing all who heard it to fear and respect the saints of Ely.85
When people neglected veneration or doubted the efficacy of the saints, they were bringing the process of making miracles into question. If the saints could not fulfil their purpose, petitions were useless, and the saints would not fulfil their purpose if they were not accorded the appropriate veneration. These miracles reflect uncertainty, laziness, ignorance and forgetfulness, all of which could be expected within such a pervasive institution as the cult of the saints. A stranger or a foreigner would obviously be less familiar with a saint than a local, but they were still expected to behave with decorum and respect the universal potency of the saints. When such mockery could be corrected, the saints chose to do so through a punitive miracle and ultimate reversal following a petition, thus bringing a new person into a saint’s community. However, where the person was judged to have acted too rudely or to be beyond help, saints were willing and able to exact more permanent punishment.
Feast days were also a focus for punitive miracles. The major concern was the proper observance of the feasts of the saints.86 For Mildrith this meant visiting people who slept when they should be praising her with terrifying dreams which brought them to their senses.87 For Seaxburh it meant a decent banquet. When the steward Wulfweard refused to distribute alcohol for the banquet of Seaxburh, the following night, his cellar was wrecked and all the contents spilt on the ground. According to the author, this was recompense for not showing the saints due honour and prevented Wulfweard from benefiting from his personal cellar.88 For other English saints, this meant stopping people working on their feasts.
Feast day punishments were generally related to the work being carried out. Wulfsige and Kenelm both had the tools of offenders adhere to their user’s hands until they came to pray at the saints’ shrines.89 Erkenwald caused Vitalis the tanner to be killed by a slip of his scraper after the tanner had been caught working on the saint’s feast and had rebuked those who tried to warn him.90 Kenelm and Dunstan caused ox teams yoked to work on their respective feasts to run wild.91 A woman was scalded by boiling liquid which she spilt on herself because she refused to honour Augustine’s feast day. Badly burnt, she acknowledged her laxity and went to beg forgiveness from Augustine, taking a candle with her. The woman was healed, but she bore the brand of Augustine for the rest of her life.92 A man was digging up brambles and thorns on Swithun’s feast day. He pricked his hand and fell seriously ill, with physicians only making his condition worse. The man was taken to Swithun’s statue at Sherborne, where he prayed and was healed.93 Oswine punished Roger the subdeacon, who collected crops on the saint’s feast day. The harvest was placed in a barn, which burst into flames. People who saw this spread word of the miracle and glorified God.94 There may have been some dispensation for the type of work engaged in, as Erkenwald killed Vitalis the tanner and another labourer but only injured and admonished Teodwin the painter, who was working on the saint’s shrine and blocked access to visitors.95 It was also wrong to force others to work on a saint’s day, and a monk of Ely was punished by Ivo with breathing problems for such an offence. The monk admitted to his friends and family what he had done and that he deserved punishment. His loved ones advised him to appease Ivo with prayers and the promise of gifts. The monk was cured and went to Ivo’s shrine to give thanks in person.96
Feast days were held up as the most important time for a saint, an occasion of devotion and miracles.97 Evidently not all of these miracles were positive. People were willing to risk the ire of a local saint in order to complete what they saw as necessary work. Dedication to a saint regularly entailed a degree of financial loss, whether in terms of time taken in a visit or the costs of travel and offerings. These miracles show that not all people felt they could afford to take a break from their labours, even if it was in honour of a saint. The fact that the punishments were linked to the perpetrators’ tools show a sense of irony seemingly shared by the saints and their hagiographers. The feast of a local saint was a grand occasion which would have been a highlight of the year and well known to inhabitants. Even in this environment, people felt they could ignore the cult of the saints and get on with their lives.
This is an overview of the type of offences which provoked a saint’s ire. They are generally concerns related to the saint directly or to their community. Most longer miracle collections contain some punitive material, and many saints performed miracles which eventually led to the death of the perpetrators. These deadly saints included Edmund, Ecgwine, Edith, Kenelm, Augustine, Æthelthryth, Erkenwald, Dunstan, Guthlac, Modwenna, Bege, Cuthbert and Oswine. Those killed by the saints had little recourse beyond confession, the last rites and post-mortem prayers for their soul. In practice most people struck dead by the saints did not even have an opportunity for these ameliorating practices. Often these deadly miracles were prefigured by petitions. Before Ecgwine’s relics were used in a property dispute, Prior Wigred prayed before the relics, sang the seven penitential psalms on bended knee and invoked the saint. Likewise the monks of Bury genuflected, prayed and sang litanies and the seven penitential psalms to convince Edmund to stop the disruption of a claim of sanctuary at his shrine. There was a long petitionary process leading up to the death and final internment of the two undead ex-tenants of Burton. Much-simpler petitions could have a similarly devastating effect, as when an old woman invoked Oswine to intercede against the Scottish sailors who raided Tynemouth. The entire fleet was dashed against Coquet Island the next day, and their loot was strewn along the Northumbrian coast.98
Whilst a saint could spontaneously respond to a slight, sometimes they had to be ‘awakened’ with a petition.99 The sanctions which followed such an awakening were not limited to death, however. A man who had a book stolen prayed for help from Wulfstan of Worcester. After some time and much prayer, the thief was struck down with demonic possession. William of Malmesbury reports that on the day of the saint’s vengeance, the supplicant had prayed longer and more deter-minedly than before.100 The clergy of Hexham prayed to Eata to stop the removal of the saint’s body to York. This prompted the saint to visit Archbishop Thomas (1070–1100) in a dream, as the authority behind the proposed translation. Eata hit the Archbishop twice with his staff, and Thomas was so frightened, he apologised, confessed his guilt and asked the canons of Hexham to pray for him. Thomas suffered from the saint’s blow for three days and was healed on the fourth by Eata.101 Edmund also had to be awakened with prostrate prayer and the seven penitential psalms to encourage him to intercede against a thief.102 The process of awakening a saint was the same as any other petition, the only difference being that the agents of the crises were human and punitive action was judged to be the best remedy. Having experienced a problem, the supplicant would petition their saint, often at their shrine and with a degree of elaboration. A person who asked their saint for help appropriately could be confident in the success of their petition.
After a miracle of vengeance, the perpetrator was sometimes given an opportunity to reconcile themselves to the saints. Like awakening a saint, these petitions follow the same structure as those used by supplicants seeking beneficent miracles. For example, when Mazelina hit her child in St Augustine’s, the monks sang the penitential psalms on her behalf, and her punishment was reversed.103 Here we see both the role of the community and the penitential tone of the reconciliatory petition. This penitential tone is also found in the case of Osgod, a former noble of Edward the Confessor, who came to Edmund’s shrine drunk and was afflicted with a fit. Because of his noble status, Edward the Confessor asked that Osgod be sprinkled with holy water and have prayers, psalms and litanies performed on his behalf. Aelwine the sacristan offered his help, explaining that, in similar cases, possessed people had been cured through being carried to Edmund’s tomb and the monks of Bury praying for them there. Osgod was taken to the tomb and the monks, clothed in albs and kneeling, and sung the seven penitential psalms and a litany. Osgod came to his senses, acknowledged his sin and a hymn and praises were offered up to God and his saint. Osgod was grateful but never fully regained the strength of his hands.104 As noted previously, Archbishop Thomas of York apologised and confessed the sin of permitting the translation of Eata against the wishes of the saint and the people of Hexham. The Archbishop finally asked for the canons of Hexham to pray for him and was cured.105 Likewise, Bishop Herfast confessed his crimes before going to Edmund to pray for forgiveness for his lawsuit against Bury.106 A sacristan of St Augustine’s and the monk of Spalding also confessed their wrongs against Augustine and Guthlac respectively.107
Such behaviour was not limited to the clergy, with laity from an aristocratic landowner to a thief confessing their indiscretions to the saints.108 As with the awakening of a saint, we see a tone of humility in these petitions of reconciliation and reincorporation. Some of the forms of humility which were found in the clamor, such as prostration and the singing of the penitential psalms,109 are also found in the petitions surrounding the punitive miracles. Saints could be persuaded to restore those they had punished through correct behaviour and genuine contrition. But the reverse was true: the saints could take away a cure if a supplicant did not fulfil their part of the interaction.
Swithun is shown reversing a miracle when the wealthy woman who vowed to visit the saint with gifts was temporarily healed. Ultimately she neglected her vow and relapsed.110 Similarly Oswine punished a boy called Henry for shooting one of Tynemouth’s doves and chasing it to the saint’s shrine, where it had taken refuge. Henry was blinded in one eye and then afflicted with a fever when he had returned to St Albans. The boy was told to repent by the woman who was nursing him in his illness, and Henry agreed to this and promised to return to Tynemouth. Immediately Henry felt better, but he forgot to go to Tynemouth, was struck again with illness and eventually died.111 In the later anonymous miracle collection, Swithun reverses another cure. A Norman man had been healed of a crippling disfigurement by Swithun at Winchester. He went on his way home, and on the road, he gazed at Swithun’s church, perhaps forgetting to ask leave of the saint to depart. The Norman fell, afflicted again with his disfigurement. He was taken back to the church and placed before Swithun’s tomb, where he and his companions prayed and he was healed with great rejoicing.112 This calls to mind the man disapproved of by Lantfred for leaving Swithun without paying due thanks.113 A foreigner who had been healed by Augustine was blinded by the saint for abusing a devout woman who was visiting St Augustine’s. The man was then contrite and spent eight days and nights in prayer, fasting and tearful vigil, after which he was cured again and gave thanks to God, apologised to those he had wronged and refrained from such behaviour in the future.114 As noted previously, there is also the reversal – and ultimately death – of Ceolwulf found in the miracles of Dunstan, in both Eadmer’s and Osbern’s versions.115
The reversal miracles – and the punitive miracles more generally – emphasise the contingent nature of the cult of the saints. A saint was free to change their mind based on the behaviour of their supplicants, to spare a former enemy or strike down a misbehaving petitioner. As saints were expected to heal the righteous, so, too, were supplicants expected to keep to their vows, behave appropriately and honour the saint. The punitive miracles show us both the limits of a saint’s patience and the consequences of engaging a saint inappropriately. In this sense, the stories of the punitive miracles are more overtly pedagogical than those of the beneficent miracles.116 Indeed, the punitive miracles were often a process of learning from one’s mistakes and coming out through the struggles closer and more devoted to the saint and conscious of the correct way to approach them. The monk of Ely who stopped villagers visiting Ivo admitted to his loved ones that he had done wrong, and the cleric who questioned Acca’s powers became devoted to the saint.117 Death was not necessarily a barrier to the learning of these lessons. Toli the sacristan confessed and received the last rites before his death for irreverently handling the body of Edmund. He later appeared to ask for prayers to get himself into Heaven and, within six months, confirmed he had been admitted to paradise.118 Agamund was killed suddenly by Edith for occupying some of Wilton’s land. He had not repented before his death and did not rest easily until the land had been given back to Wilton. It is probable that he feared damnation and did not want to be pursued by Edith in the afterlife: the fate of one Brihtric for a similar offence. Despite his condition, Brihtric, too, asked for prayers for his soul.119 However, just because a person had learnt from their mistake, that did not mean the saint had to forgive them. The Norman, who had been punished with an eye condition for seizing land from Bury, brought a candle to Edmund and saw it miraculously broken into nine pieces.120 Alwold, who was stricken with the ailment he faked in mocking Ivo, was also denied healing by the saint.121 These are the only two examples of a completely failed petition I have found in the evidence.122 The saints were open to the humble and contrite, and not everyone was deemed worthy of forgiveness.
The punitive material also shows the limits to the cult of the saints. Ubiquitous as saints and their shrines were in medieval England, people still challenged the system. Whether they were motivated by greed, need, anger, laziness or ignorance, people brought lawsuits, seized land, stole, murdered, raped and pillaged all in the face of the saints. Other behaviour was directed at the saints themselves, ignoring their feast days, scrimping on veneration, mocking the saints and mishandling their relics. The cult of the saints was very important to a great number of people, but not to all people all of the time, and it is quite likely that many found their local cult ‘a matter for indifference’.123 Though, as our evidence is almost entirely hagiographical, even these unbelievers are presented as acting against and around the cult of the saints. This behaviour is portrayed as a reaction to the cult of the saints, a set of actions which are presented as invalid by the hagiographers but which we should acknowledge as expressions of concern. We are presented with a world in which a saint could become involved in every aspect of life. In particular the punitive miracles show how a saint’s community could supplement and even replace the legal system. This could range from forcing a trial to find in the saint’s favour to killing a person outright for a ‘crime’ against the saint. Saints could act as a corrective, then, for their communities in dealing with what are portrayed as unfair legal structures.124 But for the subjects of miracles of vengeance, dealings with the saints may well have been perceived as unfair.
Perpetrators normally had some knowledge of the saint, and sometimes they were explicitly warned that their behaviour would lead to trouble.125 Despite this people still resented the saints and their communities and acted out this resentment. Saints – and by extension their custodians – were given wealth and attention in a manner which could seem close to bribery. Whilst some of the actions of the perpetrators in these stories were obviously unacceptable, the mockery of the saints and questioning of their potency can be seen as an expression of a folk critique of the business of making miracles in medieval England. This is best represented by the speech given by the unnamed man who was killed by Erkenwald for working on his feast day, even after being warned by a canon of St Paul’s. The man critiqued the canons, stating they had too much time on their hands if they could come and interrogate him. The man pointed out that the canons were idle and lived off the toil of others. He stated that if they would feed and clothe him, he would spend all his time praising God and Erkenwald. The man then compared the festivities of the workers – marked with food, drink and dancing – with the dour celebrations of the canons. In the end, the man asked to be left to earn his living in peace.126 Vitalis the pelterer also responded when people asked him not to work on Erkenwald’s feast, though the content of his retorts are not recorded.127 Similarly, the lady who presided over the village of Pailton resented the fact that Kenelm’s feast day was celebrated with a break from work. ‘Just because of Kenelm’, she said, ‘I don’t know why we should lose a day’s profit.’ Immediately the lady’s eyes fell from her head, and she begged to be forgiven by the saint and stated that his feast should be observed.128
This questioning was not limited to the perpetrators. Arcoid describes two debates by onlookers following these punitive miracles. After the killing of the unnamed man, people gathered to find out what had happened. When everything had been explained, some people thought Erkenwald had been right to kill the man. Others questioned the harshness of the miracle and pointed out the weakness and ignorance of humanity.129 Following Vitalis’s death, some felt he got what he deserved whilst others felt only sympathy.130 Nor was questioning limited to the laity. When the foreign monk questioned the potency of Ivo’s water, he compared it to pagan practices. He was also concerned that unproven relics should have been revered like those of an authentic saint. He was struck down for this but restored by Ivo as his crime was rooted in ignorance.131 During our period, there was a broader criticism of the cult of the saints. Guibert of Nogent was also worried about the authenticity of certain relics and emphasised the need for a clear written record for cults. This can be seen as related to the Anglo-Norman questions over certain earlier English saints.132 These criticisms seem to have been selective and far from an attempt to topple the cult of the saints or indeed to undermine English saints after the Conquest, although certain relics were tested by fire in an attempt to guarantee their legitimacy.133 Even some beneficent miracles were investigated thoroughly.134 Saints and their communities expected respect and could defend themselves with miraculous and secular power. But this did not mean all of England was made up of pious supplicants and loyal custodians or that every aspect of the cult was accepted without question.
What we also glean from the punitive miracles is how well they fit into the petitionary structure. Whether a supplicant was praying for a cure for fever, for an enemy of the community to be reprimanded or for forgiveness after misbehaviour, they followed the same basic pattern. Punitive miracles could be performed without a petition, but in these instances, the offence itself filled the gap. A person knew of the saint in some capacity and behaved in a manner the saint found provocative. The saint then responded with a miracle which addressed the crisis generated by the perpetrator’s behaviour. If the perpetrator survived the encounter, a new petition could begin as they became a supplicant. All of this could be carried out at the saint’s shrine, in the locality or at a greater distance. The actions of people began the miracle-making process, whether they were asking for aid, insulting a saint or seeking reconciliation. Following this pattern, it is easy to see how a former enemy of a saint could become embroiled in the community. In all cases, the saint reacted to human actions in a predictable, though not inevitable, manner. There is a final key element which we should consider before concluding: the often drawn-out and complex methods of giving thanks to a saint for a miracle.
Notes
· 1 ‘Eiusdem ciuitatis hominibus tempore quodam defuncti cuiusdam exequiis pro more uulgari assistentibus ludorumque funebrium nenias stulte et lasciue ritu bachantium celebrantibus, unus ex illis subito garrullitatis et presumptionis furore correptus, ‘ego sum’, inquit, ‘sanctus ille Swithunus qui pro uirtutibus et miraculis suis ubique diffamatur – paratus si cum muneribus et orationibus mihi uolueritis supplicare, tam corporum quam animarum uestrarum salutem Deo per me uobis propitio ministrare.’ Quam uocem temeritatis et insanie ilico uindicta subsequitur ab inimico, cuius instinctu in tantam deciderat proteruie audaciam; sine omni dilatione peruaditur, peruasus tribus diebus continuis miserabili tortione colliditur.’ Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 676–7.
· 2 Eamon Duffy, ‘St. Erkenwald: London’s Cathedral Saint and His Legend’, in The Medieval Cathedral: Papers in Honour of Pamela Tudor-Craig, ed. by Janet Back-house (Donington: Tyas, 2003), pp. 150–67 (pp. 151–2).
· 3 Abbo, Passio S. Eadmundi, pp. 83–6.
· 4 Byrhtferth, Vita S. Ecgwini, pp. 290–7.
· 5 Snoek, p. 132.
· 6 Bartlett, Why Can the Dead, p. 311.
· 7 David Rollason, ‘Relic-Cults as an Instrument of Royal Policy c. 900-c. 1050’, Anglo-Saxon England, 15 (1986), 91–103 (p. 97).
· 8 Simon Keynes, ‘An Abbot, an Archbishop, and the Viking Raids of 1006–7 and 1009–12’, Anglo-Saxon England, 36 (2007), 151–220 (pp. 180–1).
· 9 Frank Stenton, ed., The Bayeux Tapestry: A Comprehensive Study (London: Phaidon, 1957), p. 167, plate 20.
· 10 R. H. C. Davis and Marjorie Chibnall, eds and trans, The Gesta Guillelmi of William of Poitiers (Oxford: Clarendon, 1998), pp. 124–5; Marjorie Chibnall, ed. and trans., The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, 6 vols (Oxford: Clarendon, 1969–1980), II, pp. 172–3.
· 11 Goscelin, Miracula S. Kenelmi, pp. 72–5.
· 12 Goscelin, Vita S. Wlsini, pp. 83–4.
· 13 Dominic, Miracula S. Ecgwini, pp. 80–3.
· 14 Miracula S. Bege, pp. 513–15.
· 15 Goscelin, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 66–81. On preaching and feast days, see chapter I.
· 16 Miracula S. Guthlaci, pp. 57–8.
· 17 Geoffrey, Miracula S. Modwenne, pp. 190–3, 198–211.
· 18 Miracula S. Bege, pp. 510–12.
· 19 Liber Eliensis, pp. 216–17. See also the encounter between the monks of Bury, Edmund and King Swein (1013–1014). Although the embassy to Swein failed, the King was explicitly killed by the saint, who also helped the emissary Aelwine escape. See Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 14–27.
· 20 Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 64–7, 100–3.
· 21 Goscelin, Vita S. Edithe, pp. 281–4.
· 22 Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxxvii–lxxviii.
· 23 Goscelin, Translationis S. Augustini, p. 429.
· 24 Miracula S. Guthlaci, pp. 59.
· 25 Liber Eliensis, pp. 210–11.
· 26 Miracula S. Bege, pp. 512–13.
· 27 Generally causation of illness is not covered in the beneficent miracles, except in cases of possession or injuries with obvious natural causes. See Finucane, p. 72.
· 28 Abbo, Passio S. Eadmundi, pp. 83–5.
· 29 Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 346–9.
· 30 Miracula S. Guthlaci, pp. 59–60.
· 31 Bertram Colgrave, ‘The Post-Bedan Miracles and Translations of St Cuthbert’, in The Early Cultures of North-West Europe, ed. by Cyril Fox and Bruce Dickins (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1950), pp. 305–32 (p. 315).
· 32 Goscelin, Vita S. Wlsini, p. 83; Goscelin, Vita S. Edithe, pp. 100–1, 268–9; Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxxii–lxxiii; Geoffrey, Miracula S. Modwenne, pp. 182–93; Miracula S. Bege, pp. 515–16; Miracula S. Oswini, pp. 20–2; Aelred, De sanctis Hagustaldensis, pp. 183–4.
· 33 Goscelin, Miraculis S. Augustini, p. 397.
· 34 Dominic, Miracula S. Ecgwini, pp. 104–21.
· 35 Bethell, ‘Osyth’, pp. 116–17.
· 36 Colgrave, ‘Post-Bedan’, p. 318.
· 37 Dominic, Miracula S. Ecgwini, pp. 86–9.
· 38 Goscelin, Vita S. Edithe, pp. 270–1. Edith also punished three craftsmen with blindness for skimping on the gold that was meant to go into a new shrine for the saint, which had been commissioned by Cnut. Goscelin, Vita S. Edithe, pp. 280–1.
· 39 Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxxii–lxxiii; Dominic, Miracula S. Ecgwini, pp. 86–9; Geoffrey, Miracula S. Modwenne, pp. 182–93.
· 40 Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 36–7, 50–5.
· 41 Goscelin, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 278–99.
· 42 Miracula S. Ætheldrethe, pp. 108–11, 122–9.
· 43 Bede considered the English saints Cuthbert and Æthelthryth to be incorrupt. When William of Malmesbury was writing in the twelfth century, he still recorded Cuthbert and Æthelthryth as incorrupt and had only added to the list Wihtburh, Edmund of East Anglia and Ælfheah. See Bede, HE, IV.19, pp. 392–7; IV.30, pp. 442–5; William of Malmesbury, Gesta Regum Anglorum, I, pp. 386–7 (II.207).
· 44 Aelred, De sanctis Hagustaldensis, pp. 181–2.
· 45 Miracula S. Bege, pp. 517–18.
· 46 Goscelin, Vita S. Edithe, pp. 272.
· 47 Goscelin, Vita S. Edithe, pp. 272–3.
· 48 On litanies see Appendix I.
· 49 Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 142–5.
· 50 Colgrave, ‘Post-Bedan’, p. 312.
· 51 William Ketell, Miracula S. Johannis, pp. 264–9.
· 52 Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxxii.
· 53 Goscelin, In Natale Sancte Eormenhilde, in Love, Ely, pp. 20–1; Goscelin, Virtutibus S. Adriani, Cotton, Vespasian B.xx, fols 236v-38r, Harley 105, fols 208r-09v; Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 102–9.
· 54 Goscelin, Translationis S. Augustini, p. 425; Dominic, Miracula S. Ecgwini, pp. 94–7; Miracula S. Bege, pp. 516–17.
· 55 Rollason points out that no such proclamation survives from the reign of William I. Goscelin, Miracula S. Mildrethe, pp. 188–90.
· 56 See chapter II.
· 57 Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxviii–lxix, lxxi–lxxii; Goscelin, Miracula S. Mildrethe, pp. 207–10; Osbern, Miracula S. Dunstani, pp. 155–6; Eadmer, Miracula S. Dunstani, pp. 155–6.
· 58 Geoffrey, Miracula S. Modwenne, pp. 192–9.
· 59 ‘monachi, nudis pedibus et cum magnis gemitibus, intoierunt ecclesiam et feretrum beate virginis, ubi iacebant sacratissima ossa eius, continuo in magnis fletibus deposuerunt ad terram. Clamauerunt omnes pariter tota intentione ad Dominum’, Geoffrey, Miracula S. Modwenne, pp. 192–5.
· 60 Snoek, p. 159.
· 61 Geary, Living With the Dead, p. 98.
· 62 The three examples are from Rochester, St Germans and Winchester. See Lester K. Little, Benedictine Maledictions: Liturgical Cursing in Romanesque France (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1993), pp. 48–50.
· 63 Hartzell, pp. 152–3.
· 64 Geary, Living With the Dead, pp. 98–100.
· 65 Little, pp. 123–6.
· 66 Raine, Reginaldi, pp. 119–22.
· 67 D. W. Russel, Jocelyn Wogan-Browne and Jane Zatta, eds and trans, ‘La Vie Seinte Osith, Virge et Martire (MS BL Addit. 70513, ff. 134va-146vb)’, Papers on Language & Literature, 41 (2005), 339–444 (pp. 428–31).
· 68 Rollason, Saints and Relics, pp. 197–208.
· 69 Little, p. 200.
· 70 Sigal, L’homme et le Miracle, pp. 276–82.
· 71 Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxix–lxx, lxxi–lxxii.
· 72 Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 142–5.
· 73 Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 676–77.
· 74 Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxiv–lxvi.
· 75 Goscelin, Vita S. Edithe, pp. 297–8.
· 76 Vita Sexburge, pp. 184–5.
· 77 Goscelin, Miracula S. Mildrethe, pp. 181–5.
· 78 Liber Eliensis, pp. 208–9.
· 79 Goscelin, Vita S. Edithe, pp. 298–9.
· 80 Goscelin, Miraculis S. Augustini, pp. 410–11.
· 81 Goscelin, Translationis S. Augustini, pp. 426–7.
· 82 Miracula S. Bege, pp. 509–10.
· 83 Aelred, De sanctis Hagustaldensis, pp. 188–9.
· 84 Colgrave, ‘Post-Bedan’, pp. 311, 314.
· 85 Liber Eliensis, pp. 212–13.
· 86 To this end, proclamations seem to have gone out reminding people of the feast and to observe it properly. See Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 108–9; Goscelin, Miracula S. Kenelmi, pp. 76–7; Liber Eliensis, pp. 370–1.
· 87 Goscelin, Miracula S. Mildrethe, pp. 179–81.
· 88 Vita Sexburge, pp. 184–7.
· 89 Goscelin, Vita S. Wlsini, pp. 81–2; Goscelin, Miracula S. Kenelmi, pp. 76–9. See also the serving girl who gardened on the Sabbath and was punished by Æthelthryth, who caused the girl’s stake to adhere to her hand. Miracula S. Ætheldrethe, pp. 118–23.
· 90 Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 148–51.
· 91 Goscelin, Miracula S. Kenelmi, pp. 74–7; Eadmer, Miracula S. Dunstani, pp. 206–9.
· 92 Goscelin, Translationis S. Augustini, pp. 442–3.
· 93 Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 676–83.
· 94 Miracula S. Oswini, p. 40.
· 95 Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 148–51, 108–15, 158–61.
· 96 Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxx–lxxi.
· 97 On liturgical celebration of feasts see Appendix I.
· 98 Miracula S. Oswini, pp. 22–4.
· 99 Little, pp. 197–8.
· 100 William of Malmesbury, Saints, pp. 148–51.
· 101 Aelred, De sanctis Hagustaldensis, pp. 202–3.
· 102 Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 346–9.
· 103 Goscelin, Miraculis S. Augustini, pp. 407–8.
· 104 Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 58–9.
· 105 Aelred, De sanctis Hagustaldensis, pp. 202–3.
· 106 Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 66–81.
· 107 Goscelin, Miraculis S. Augustini, p. 407; Miracula S. Guthlaci, pp. 59.
· 108 Geoffrey, Miracula S. Modwenne, pp. 198–211; Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 346–9.
· 109 Little, p. 83.
· 110 Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 292–3.
· 111 Miracula S. Oswini, pp. 40–1.
· 112 Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 682–3.
· 113 Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 318–19.
· 114 Goscelin, Miraculis S. Augustini, pp. 409–10.
· 115 Osbern, Miracula S. Dunstani, pp. 131–3; Eadmer, Miracula S. Dunstani, pp. 162–3.
· 116 Klaniczay, ‘Certain Conditions’, pp. 241–2.
· 117 Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxx–lxxi; Aelred, De sanctis Hagustaldensis, pp. 188–9.
· 118 Goscelin, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 278–86.
· 119 Goscelin, Vita S. Edithe, pp. 281–4.
· 120 Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 64–7.
· 121 Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxix–lxx.
· 122 You could perhaps include the failure of the aforementioned embassy to William I by Simeon of Ely after praying to Æthelthryth here as well. Ultimately the King died after rejecting Simeon’s petition, but it is unclear if this was Simeon’s or indeed the saint’s intention. See also Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 14–27.
· 123 Yarrow, p. 220.
· 124 For example against cheating litigants, biased judges and unfair imprisonment, see Byrhtferth, Vita S. Ecgwini, pp. 290–7; Geoffrey, Miracula S. Modwenne, pp. 182–93; Goscelin, Vita S. Edithe, p. 272.
· 125 Both saints and their communities warned against certain behaviour. For example, see Colgrave, ‘Post-Bedan’, p. 313; Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 108–15, 148–51 for warnings by humans and Geoffrey, Miracula S. Modwenne, pp. 204–7; Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 14–27 for visions from saints.
· 126 Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 112–13.
· 127 Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 148–9.
· 128 ‘‘Pro Kenelmo’, inquit, ‘nescio quo fructum diei perderemus.’’ Goscelin, Miracula S. Kenelmi, pp. 76–7.
· 129 Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 114–15.
· 130 Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 150–1.
· 131 Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxxi–lxxii. Ivo was not above educating the ignorant, as when he sent a vision to a monk of Ely who claimed not to have heard of the saint. Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxx–lxxi.
· 132 Jay Rubenstein, Guibert of Nogent: Portrait of a Medieval Mind (London: Routledge, 2002), p. 127. Guibert comments on the case of Lanfranc’s questioning of Ælfheah’s status, as well as the status of other relics, in his De Pignoribus Sanctorum. See Patrologia Latina, 156, col. 614–26.
· 133 Susan J. Ridyard, ‘“Condigna Veneratio”: Post-Conquest Attitudes to the Saints of the Anglo-Saxons’, Anglo-Norman Studies, 9 (1986), 179–206. Guibert mentions the testing of a relic of Arnulf at Clermont-en-Beauvaisis, Guibert de Nogent, Autobiographie, ed. and trans. by Edmond-René Labande, Classiques de l’histoire de France au Moyen Âge, 34 (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1981), pp. 462–3. The only English example from our period is Abbot Walter of Evesham (1077–1104), who tested the relics of the abbey including those of Credan and Wigstan, as recorded by Dominic of Evesham in his Vita S. Odulfi. See W. D. Macray, ed., Chronicon Abbatiae de Evesham, ad Annum 1418, Rolls Series 29 (London: Longman, 1863), pp. 323–34.
· 134 See chapter I.