5
Tom Lynch
Making miracles in the middle ages was a balancing act. One had to express one’s piety, humility and devotion whilst still asking for an act of God. The saints had to be kept happy throughout the process, and they would strike back if wronged. The act of thanksgiving is the final element to petitioning a saint for a miracle. There were expectations placed on the saints to intercede on behalf of supplicants and expectations placed on those supplicants to engage the saint appropriately. Between the miracle and the record, there was also an expectation of thanks and praise to the saint and God. In Eadmer’s Miracula S. Oswaldi, there is a story of a monk of Worcester who was sick with a serious fever that could not be treated by local doctors. Eventually he was taken to the shrine of Oswald, where the following took place:
When this had been done, he prostrated himself on the ground and began to pray, saying prayers that the magnitude of the sickness afflicting him and his longing to recover especially suggested to him. And there was no delay in this. For no sooner had he risen from prayer than he perceived that he had been restored to the most perfect health … And the other brothers, witnessing such a sudden and complete cure in their brother, were overjoyed and coming together they praised God, who had lovingly worked marvels through their own most beloved father; in praising they recommended it, and recommending it they praised him together, with great devotion in their hearts and voices raised on high.1
Such thanksgiving is present throughout the evidence. In Lantfred’s miracles of Swithun, the paralysed man, cured after three days and nights in prayer and vigil, gave thanks to God and left cured.2 In fact, Lantfred expected those granted miracles to give thanks appropriately, as he stated that a lame man who left without thanking Swithun as the other supplicants did ‘remained spiritually infirm’.3 Goscelin tells of a crippled boy who was cured by Kenelm as the abbot was beginning the antiphon to the evening Gospel reading. The boy stood up, stretched out his hands and gave thanks to God.4 In a final miracle appended to Geoffrey of Burton’s collection, a French penitent was found outside the monastery and begged to be let in to pray to Modwenna. After he had visited many shrines, he had been released from all of his iron bonds but one, which was cutting off the blood to his arm. Modwenna had twice come to him in a dream, telling him to go to Burton. Hearing this the monks allowed him into the monastery to spend the night in vigil. When Mass was being said the next day, he approached the shrine, his bond came loose and the pain subsided. The man immediately thanked God and Modwenna.5
Thanksgiving to God and his saints was a constant feature of the cult of the saints in medieval England. Expressions of individual thanks were directed to God, the saint or both. Whilst thanksgiving generally took the form of unspecified praise, some accounts include a little more detail. In the curing of a mute and lame youth by Dunstan, Osbern noted his thankful cry as ‘Glory to God in the highest, Alleluia’.6 The father of a paralysed boy healed by Ivo at Slepe clapped for joy, as well as thanking the saint and God.7 When Abbot Scotland was healed by Mildrith at St Augustine’s, he knelt before all of the shrines of the saints, one after another.8 Though thanksgiving was never mandatory, it was definitely encouraged as a coda to the petitionary process, an act which signified a completed successful petition. This indicated the efficacy of the saint and the worthiness of the supplicant. The kind of humble and pious person who would ask the saints for help would also thank them appropriately for their aid. Whilst many people gave thanks for the help the saints had given them or their loved ones, the most elaborate thanksgiving was reserved for those miracles which were picked up on by the saint’s custodians.
The practice of corporate thanksgiving is first found in Lantfred’s Swithun dossier. Three blind women from the Isle of Wight were led to Swithun’s new shrine in the Old Minster by a young mute man. Spending a vigil there, all four were cured, with the young man taking the sacristan outside and explaining to him what had happened and to inform the monks so they could give thanks ‘in their usual manner’.9 What this usual manner was is revealed by the circumstances behind a vision recorded by Lantfred. Bishop Æthelwold had given instruction to the monks of the Old Minster that whenever Swithun effected a miracle, all the brothers were to drop what they were doing and go to church to thank God appropriately. It seems some monks had become remiss in their observation of this practice, annoyed at the regular interruption of their sleep. Æthelwold’s instructions were ignored for nearly two weeks when Swithun appeared in a vision to a woman, saying that the lack of thanksgiving was displeasing to God and that, if this was not remedied, the monks would be punished and the miracles would stop. The woman went quickly when she awoke and told the Bishop what had been revealed to her. Upon hearing this, Æthelwold sent out another directive that any monks who did not give thanks as instructed would do penance for seven days on bread and water. This time Æthelwold was heeded, and whenever the sacristan rang the bell indicating a miracle had been performed, the monks went to the church to give thanks.10
Therefore, underlying every shrine miracle in Lantfred’s collection is a background of corporate thanksgiving by the monks of the Old Minster. Wulfstan also comments on the countless wonders of Swithun produced night and day. These miracles often interrupted the monks eating, learning and even their thanksgiving for previous miracles, but they would gladly stop what they were doing in favour of going to church and chanting hymns to God.11 Kenelm’s miracles at Winchcombe were met with thanks, praises and hymns led by the abbot and monks.12 Osbern claims to have witnessed the cure of a blind girl by Dunstan whilst she was keeping vigil. Those present shed tears and thanked God. The next day, the boys of Christ Church were to be beaten but were let off on account of the miracle. The bells were rung, and the whole city praised Dunstan.13
It is unsurprising that miracles which benefited the whole community of a saint resulted in corporate thanksgiving as well. For example, during Abbot Ingulf’s (1085/86–1109) leadership, the monks of Crowland had run out of food and could not easily resupply with winter setting in. The Abbot led all the monks in prayer on bended knee before the shrine of Guthlac, where they spent the night in vigil. When the monks assembled in the morning for the office, they heard angelic voices reporting the success of Guthlac’s intercession and, upon investigation, found four sacks of grain and flour in the cellars. All of the monks gave heartfelt thanks to God and Guthlac and marvelled at the miracle. The Abbot also decreed that in memory of such a miracle, the Mass on that day of the week, Thursday, would be in honour of Guthlac and celebrated in copes and dalmatics.14 Similarly, under Abbot Elfstan of St Augustine’s (1016/19–1045/46), there was a lack of fish for the banquet associated with the feast of Augustine. Following vespers on the eve of the feast, Elfstan prostrated himself in prayer, asking the saint for help. Overnight a fourteen-foot sturgeon was washed up on the shore some seven leagues from the monastery. This fish was brought to Elfstan, who accepted it with eagerness and thanks, and the feast was held.15
Provisions and feasts were not the only concerns of monasteries, and occasionally their saints were invoked against existential threats. Aelred records how the people and buildings of Hexham were saved from marauding Scots, under King Malcolm III (1031–1093). Upon hearing of the imminent attack, the people of Hexham had assembled in the abbey and prayed prostrate before the saints. The clergy sang psalms and prayed. People invoked Wilfrid, Cuthbert, Acca and Alchmund. A priest had a vision of Cuthbert and Wilfrid coming from the south on horseback to save Hexham. This priest interrupted the people to tell them of his vision and reassure them that they had been heard. Following this, those present continued their prayers and psalms, and in the morning, a fog so dense rose that the Scots ended up getting lost and eventually found their way back to their own territory. The river also flooded, and the Scots gave up their intention after three days. The gathered people tearfully exclaimed their thanks and praises, and the monks celebrated Mass.16 Two elements are common to these corporate displays of thanksgiving. The first is the singing of hymns, and the hymn of choice was Te Deum Laudamus.
The Te Deum is now attributed to Bishop Nicetas of Remesiana (c. 400), and sections of the hymn can be found in the Musica Enchiriadis of c. 900. The Te Deum was performed both as an occasional hymn of praise and as a regular but not constant feature of matins.17 The singing of the Te Deum in response to a miracle is included in the work of Byrhtferth, Goscelin, Herman, Symeon of Durham, Dominic of Evesham and Arcoid.18 Other hymns of praise seem to have been sung in response to a miracle, but these go unnamed in the source material.19 Sometimes other chants and songs are indicated in the hagiography, but this was for context rather than in response to a miracle. For example, Goscelin describes the healing of two girls on the feast of Augustine. The first girl was cured during the hymns sung for Augustine during the vigil of his feast. The second girl was healed as the Benedictus was sung at lauds on the feast.20 Hymns were usually sung in the office, with Proper material for feast days confined to matins, lauds and vespers.21 Milfull has examined the relevant liturgical material and has found hymns for saints Andrew, Stephen, Cuthbert, Benedict, Dunstan, Augustine of Canterbury, John the Baptist, Peter and Paul, Laurence, Archangel Michael, All Saints, Martin of Tours, the Apostles, Barnabas, Gregory, Edmund the Martyr and Oswald of Worcester as well as a stock of hymns for the common of the saints.22 Thus, it was conceivable to sing other hymns of thanksgiving to saints, and it appears there was a stock of hymns for the liturgy which could be repurposed. But the Te Deum reoccurs in the hagiography throughout our period, and it is worth considering why this was the case. The Te Deum would be well known to the monks, nuns and regular clerics with its place in the liturgy. Indeed it seems the hymn was also associated with the cult of the saints somewhat, and it was used on occasions like translations and feast days.23 The content of the hymn was also appropriate for thanks and praise to God. When something miraculous was witnessed or reported the Te Deum would be an obvious choice of hymn with which to glorify God and the wonders of his creation.
The second element common to corporate thanksgiving was the use of bells. Bells and bell towers were found in most larger churches and monastic centres in England by around 800.24 Their major liturgical use was to ring the hours of the office, but bells were also used to summon those within earshot to the church.25 Like hymns, the ringing of bells is sometimes used in the hagiography to contextualise a miracle, particularly to mark the liturgical hour.26 But for us, the more interesting use of bells was when they were rung in pronouncement and celebration of a miracle. The use of bells to draw attention to a miracle is recorded by Lantfred in his description of the corporate thanksgiving, which was required by Swithun at the Old Minster.27 Bells were rung in thanksgiving for miracles performed by Ecgwine, Edmund, Ivo, Hadrian, Dunstan, Mildburh and Erkenwald as well.28 Here bells both mark an event and draw others into that event; the noise of the celebration of a miracle would spread news of that miracle further and encourage others into thanksgiving. In this way, the sound of bells was an appeal to the community of a saint to join together in specific acts or to at least acknowledge the active role of the saint in the community. Each ringing of the bells was an example of the ‘auditory performances of community’, implicating all who heard the bells in a commonality even if they could ultimately ignore them.29
According to Lanfranc, the person in charge of the bells in a religious house was the sacristan, both in terms of their physical upkeep and in terms of ringing the hours and other occasions.30 Therefore, the sacristan was usually the person to decide if a miracle warranted the attention of the whole community.31 The ringing of bells could draw great crowds, even the whole city of Canterbury according to Osbern.32 Bell ringing was regularly combined with the singing of hymns and general celebrations.33 Such a ‘performance of community’ would only have been matched by the celebration of major feasts, the consecration of a church or the translation of a saint. Corporate thanksgiving helped to involve the whole community in a miracle, even if they had not witnessed the miracle themselves. This was often in celebration of the reversal of communal troubles, but it could be to mark something as simple as the cure of a sick child. What was important was that the saint had made a miracle, the community had acknowledged this intercession and they then engaged in public thanksgiving.
Whilst a thanksgiving of devotional acts, whether corporate or individual, was the most common response to a successful intercession at a shrine, there is a great deal of evidence for material reciprocity in medieval England. These acts saw the donation of a gift dedicated to the saint in relation to a miracle. Lantfred details several examples of material reciprocity. A blind woman promised she would give gifts to Swithun in exchange for her eyesight. When she was taken to Swithun’s shrine, she placed her gift of cloth on the altar, was instantly healed and gave thanks.34 Here the fulfilled promise appears to be as significant as the material gift. This is emphasised by Lantfred’s next entry, where another wealthy woman promised Swithun she would spend a vigil at his tomb and come with gifts if only he would help her with what seemed to be a mortal illness. As she made this promise, she was healed and, forgetting her commitment, rode to a wedding with her husband. At the wedding, she was struck down by the same illness, realised her fault and ordered that she be taken to Swithun’s shrine. There she was cured, gave thanks and returned the next day to the same wedding.35 Also demonstrated here is the conditional nature of such gifts, commonly referred to as ex-votos as they were given in the fulfilment of a vow.36
Lantfred includes the deposit of mementos at Swithun’s shrine without a vow as well. Some of the chains and bonds miraculously fell from a foreign penitent’s body, who had come from across the sea to Winchester having heard of Swithun’s power. The miracle was effected after the man had prayed at the shrine and the metal bonds that flew off were kept as a reminder.37 Similarly, a woman bound in iron for having allowed her master’s clothes to be stolen fled to Swithun’s tomb. Whilst she prayed there her manacles fell off, which were only big enough to fit three fingers in. These manacles were kept as a token of the miracle.38 The ungrateful foreigner cured of lameness, who left without thanks, did also leave behind his crutches which were retained.39
Here we have two classes of gifts to the saint, votives and mementos directly linked to the miracle received. The most common votive offered to the saints was a candle. Candles were given to Augustine, Mildrith, Hadrian, Edmund, Ecgwine and Ithamar.40 Unspecified gifts abound and other items given included a gold coin, a necklace and a chunk of marble.41 Offerings did not have to be expensive, however, and the gifts of the poor worked just as well.42 Mementos of miracles were largely the crutches of the disabled and chains of the penitent. Such signs were displayed at the shrines of Bege, Modwenna, Ecgwine and Edith.43 Other more unique tokens were left after some miracles. Raven of Tutbury, a blind man cured at Burton by Modwenna, left his head wrap behind.44 The cart which had carried two French boys to be cured at Bege’s tomb was kept as a reminder of the miracle.45 The author of the Miracula S. Mylburge notes the deposition of a large worm in a purpose built wooden box at Mildburh’s shrine at Much Wenlock. The worm was vomited up by a woman and her husband fashioned the box himself so that it could be given to the saint.46 Unique to the corpus is the wax model of a hand, given by an Italian woman named Benedicta who was finally healed after many visits to the Erkenwald.47
Benedicta’s wax hand is the first record I have found of a wax votive in England. This form of offering, relating perhaps to ideas of imprinting as well as the practical applications of wax in a church, provided a link between the saint and their supplicant.48 This link is also demonstrated by the use of a pair of wax eyes to cure a Frenchman after they had been placed above Erkenwald’s altar at St Paul’s.49 Wax votives seem to have been used in Europe from the eleventh century and only became widespread in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.50 For our period, then, we lack evidence of a large number of such ex-votos, as we lack the pilgrim badges which first appeared in the second half of the twelfth century at Compostela and became popular in England with the cult of Thomas Becket.51 The two most common forms of offering deposited at saints’ shrines, as depicted in the hagiography, were the candle and the memento of the miracle, both of which make sense as predecessors of the wax ex-voto. These material offerings were a representation of the devotion of individuals and a way that supplicants could add to and alter the appearance of a shrine.52 In England the dedication of a memento of a miracle is first found in the Swithun material and the offering of a candle after a miracle originates in the post-Conquest collections. More extravagant offerings were presented by those who could afford them, including Æthelwine building a new tower at St Augustine’s and Emma of Normandy giving twenty silver coins in thanks to Mildrith.53
Material offerings seem to have been a weak point for saints cults in terms of critique. As noted previously, people drew attention to the relationship between miracles and material gain, with predictably dire consequences for the critics.54 What was a pious donation to some appeared to be a bribe to others. Such base exchange over a spiritual matter could strike one as incongruous, but it appears to have functioned more like a collection plate. People did not have to engage in material exchange in order to be granted miraculous aid or in response to a miracle already given. They had to behave in a certain manner, but they did not have to make a financial contribution. Nor was there a fixed tariff for a miracle, or indeed a scale depending on the degree of help delivered. A person could give whatever they could afford as a sign of thanks to God and his saint and, by extension, to the role played by the saint’s custodians.
Exact revenues from pilgrimage are not recorded for our period and even where they are recorded expenditure on pilgrims and related services could be complex. The split between maintenance of the shrine and building, pilgrim services and profit for the custodians seems to have varied between institutions. Perhaps the most amicable solution was laid out in a bull of 1212 stating that the money left at the main altar of St Peter at Rome was to be divided equally between the canons, maintenance and the poor.55 The cult of Thomas Becket saw an average of £426 3s. 7d. per year in offerings between 1198 and 1213, out of total average receipts of £1406 1s. 8d. and total average expenditure of £1314 19s. 2d. A famous cult could generate a lot of money, but a centre of pilgrimage could spend a lot of money.56 According to our evidence, a wealthy supplicant could finance a whole rebuilding programme, and even small tokens could add up. In terms of supplicant behaviour, though, a material gift was as much a part of thanksgiving as a cry of praise or a hymn. One could not buy miracles, but that did not mean that wealthy people were not afforded better treatment and superior access to a saint. And evidently in some peoples’ minds, a gift or a bribe was seen as an essential part of making a miracle. Whilst harder to quantify, perhaps the greatest act of thanksgiving was to dedicate your life to the saint in question.
John of Vermandois had a vision of Edward the Martyr telling him to come to Shaftesbury to be cured of his contorted body. John obeyed, travelled to England and was healed after praying to God and Edward for some time. He spent the rest of his days in service to Shaftesbury Abbey.57 Likewise, a slave was given to the service of Swithun after the saint saved him from a judicial ordeal.58 A deaf, dumb and lame woman was cured by Augustine at his tomb, where the woman prayed on bended knees and was struck down in a fit. When she came to her senses, the woman cried the name of Augustine aloud three times and then fell back down. Those present marvelled at the miraculous cure of the woman, who woke again and recited the names of the all the translated saints of St Augustine’s, as if saying a litany, followed by the Our Father. When the brothers and the Abbot discovered the cure, they sprinkled her with holy water. The woman then dedicated her life to the service of Augustine, emphasising that she had not learnt the words she said but was told them by Augustine himself in a vision. Similarly an East Saxon man and a dying infant were saved by being vowed into Augustine’s service.59 Ranulf, a Norman courtier of William I, was cured in a dream of a sickness of the mind by Edmund. He then awoke, gave thanks to the saint, received the tonsure as he had once vowed and took up service at Bury.60 Finally, after the bondsman named Raven had been cured by Acca of his blindness, his master gave him over with his possessions to serve at Hexham.61
Here we have two different categories of people being given over to the service of the saint, the bonded and the nominally free. Although the slaves would have been pleased at their miracles, this act of thanksgiving was essentially a transfer of ownership between masters; the saint’s intervention in their lives was tantamount to a claim of possession. In the case of the slave saved by Swithun, his owner promised him to Swithun if the saint interceded on his behalf.62 As the slave had committed a crime, saving him from punishment was also saving the owner’s embarrassment and potentially culpability. The slave acted as an ex-voto of sorts in a reciprocal relationship established between the owner and Swithun. In Raven’s case, his master was not personally put at risk by the bondsman’s blindness. However, Aelred states that the master was looking to gain favour with Acca in delivering Raven into the service of Hexham.63 The free people who dedicated their lives to the saints were generally cured of life-changing or life-threatening ailments, the exception being Ranulf, who had previously vowed to enter into Edmund’s service. These people owed their lives to the saints, and their dedication was the most all-encompassing way of giving thanks to their patron. By giving themselves over to the saints, these people also became custodians and could become more intimate with their patrons and involved in the day-to-day life of their new homes.
People gave thanks for miracles no matter how they were petitioned. This includes relic miracles: whether it was Anselm’s belt, Oswald’s cup or relic water from St Augustine’s, supplicants were demonstrably grateful for the intercession of the saints.64 When these miracles occurred at a distance, thanksgiving could be combined with a visit to the shrine to recount the story. This was the case with Humphrey, the knight who was cured by Anselm’s belt and went to Christ Church to inform the monks and to ask them to help him in giving thanks.65 Distance miracles were often based on vows and promises, which required an eventual visit to the saint’s shrine. This could range from a simple visit, like the blind man on his way to Swithun,66 to a construction project, like the tower which Abbot Æthelwine promised to Augustine if he saved him at sea.67 Reciprocity could be as simple or elaborate as that found in shrine cures. The criminal saved from execution in France simply praised God for Swithun’s intercession.68 Distance miracles reported at the shrine could be picked up and result in corporate thanksgiving, including bell ringing, sermons and the singing of hymns, again favouring the Te Deum.69 Visiting or revisiting a shrine after a distance miracle meant that the miracle could be noted and properly acknowledged by the community. This would appease the saint and allow the supplicant to feel that their life crisis was complete, satisfying the social pressure to give thanks appropriately. It would also implicate the supplicant in the saint’s community in a way that was impossible from a distance.
Thanksgiving was not limited to beneficent miracles. Whenever a saint inter-ceded, there was an expectation of thanks and praise no matter what the saint had done. Thanks was given by the saints’ communities for the vengeance miracles they had successfully petitioned. As with the beneficent miracles, the Te Deum was sung in response to the death of the peasant, who tried to trick Ecgwine and Evesham in a property dispute.70 The community of Bury praised Edmund and God for exacting the asked-for vengeance on a thief.71 Bege’s community gave thanks for her legal help which they had petitioned her for.72 Thanksgiving was also performed for more spontaneous punitive miracles, as when the monks of St Augustine’s praised Mildrith’s miraculous awakening of Hunfrith, who slept on her feast and fled after being awoken by the saint.73
Thanksgiving could also follow the forgiveness of a saint. Odo crawled to Augustine’s tomb to give thanks after being cured of the serious illness that the saint punished him with for questioning his protection of the see of Canterbury. Odo promised to repeat this act of gratitude every year. The monks of St Augustine’s heard of this and thanked the saint as well.74 When Eudochia was healed in Constantinople, Augustine was thanked, and this episode encouraged his reputation as an intercessor in Greece.75 Osgod was grateful to Edmund and the monks of Bury for curing him of the fit he fell into for entering the saint’s sanctuary drunk.76 The Dane who was punished for looking at Edmund’s body was cured, gave the saint his golden bracelets and venerated Edmund from that day on.77 A perjurer who had been afflicted with possession thanked God and Bege and publicly repented his perjury after being released by the saint.78 A noble struck down by Ivo gradually got better after prayers and vigils; he then went to Ramsey and begged forgiveness from Abbot Bernard (1102–1107) and Ivo himself and gave thanks for his healing.79 Even the last two peasants at Drakelow, who were bedridden following Modwenna’s ravaging of the village and who seem to have been otherwise innocent, gave thanks for their healing by the saint once the perpetrators had been dealt with.80
Having considered thanksgiving as the final element in the making of a miracle, the reciprocal nature of the cult of the saints really comes into focus. It appears that most supplicants ‘were inclined to expect some material benefit in exchange for fasts, pilgrimages and prayers’.81 The whole system of pilgrimage and miracle petitions in return for material benefit can be understood as a process of exchange.82 This is similar to the do ut des interpretation of pagan sacrifice in pre-Christian Rome, that in giving something to the gods, one should get something in return.83 Such an attitude can be seen reflected in the deposition of votives, the making of vows and the petitions of supplicants at saints’ shrines.84 Ultimately this theory of exchange is based on the work of Mauss, particularly his ideas about gifts and reciprocity. Mauss notes the development of obligation and expectation in gift exchange. Such exchanges need not be limited to material goods and can include rituals, services and festivals, amongst other things. From this exchange, bonds are developed that have the appearance of being voluntary but are socially obligatory.85 The gift then is not free at all but the beginning of a social relationship. A ‘pure gift’, given with no expectation of reciprocity, is rare, and even in cases like almsgiving, evidence suggests that givers are often looking for something with ‘the benefits of the socially entangling Maussian gift’.86
When it comes to the cult of the saints, it is important to bear in mind that these social entanglements were not between social equals. There is a human intimacy between saint and supplicant, but it is the intimacy of the patron and the client.87 Hierarchy and social norms are not undone by gift exchange, and the reciprocity at the heart of the cult of the saints is uneven. Such a structure means that the miracles are essentially ‘favours from superiors’ which reinforce the social position of saints and their custodians.88 Saints freely chose who they engaged with initially, could defer or redirect supplicants and punished those who disrupted a reciprocal arrangement. The ‘gift’ of intercession was of such an order of magnitude greater than even the most lavish votive that a supplicant could never truly repay it. A supplicant always remained inferior to their saint, unable to gain parity let alone to overtake the saint in a system of ‘fragile, competitive equality between actors’.89 In a sense, something like a ‘feudal bond’ was initiated between a saint and a supplicant in the petitionary process.90 The saints did not need anything from their supplicants, but the social interaction of the miracle petition required that the supplicants should do something in exchange for intercession. Therefore, we see the petition before the miracle and the thanksgiving afterwards. The action of a supplicant required a reaction from the saint, which triggered another action from the supplicant. This could lead to a lifetime of cyclical interactions between an individual and a saint.91 Whilst people did give coins and other easily alienable portable wealth to saints, the most popular votive deposits seem to have been candles and mementos of miracles. A person who could never repay a saint could at least donate a sign of their personal experience of an intercession. Heaped up, these items would reinforce the saint’s reputation as an intercessor and demonstrate the swathes of people indebted to the saint in perpetuity.
It seems that thanksgiving was a part of a being a good supplicant. These devotional acts helped to solidify a place within the saint’s community and helped to ensure that a saint did not reverse their intercession. The power of the saints was awesome, and they did not shy away from collective punishment and collateral damage, so it was best to keep them content as an individual and as a community. Even if they did not directly punish people, the saints could always withhold future intercession, a disaster for an institution which was centred around the production of miracles. If the petition allowed a person to perform their misfortune in a pious manner, so thanksgiving allowed a person to perform their gratitude publicly. Giving thanks showed you were recovered from your personal crisis and able to take a full part in communal life again. It also showed that you were willing and able to solicit a miracle through your correct behaviour. People did not have to thank a saint and God for their aid, but if you had resorted to a saint for help, it was likely that you would want to thank them if they had listened to your pleas. Thus, thanksgiving fits into our structure of the petitionary process as the final action, an optional though highly recommended end to that specific ordeal. Thanksgiving could bring people into a closer relationship with the saint and their community; it gave people another reason to visit a saint at their main shrine and brought in stories of the saint’s deeds throughout the country and beyond. Following thanksgiving, a supplicant could return to their old life physically and spiritually whole, in contrast to the man who left Swithun without thanking him properly.92
Notes
· 1 ‘Quod ubi factum est, solo prostratus, precibus incubuit, iis uidelicet quas sibi dictabat magnitudo doloris quo uexabatur, et desiderium sanitatis recuperandae quo raptabatur. Nec mora. Nam non prius ab oratione surrexit, quam se integerrimae sanitati restitutum intellexit … Ast alii fratres, intuentes in illo fratre tam subitam et integram curationem, ualde laetati sunt, et pium Deum per carissimum patrem suum mira operatum conuenientes magnificant, magnificantes praedicant, praedicantes multa cordis deuotione ac sullimi uocis exultatione collaudant.’ Eadmer, Miracula S. Oswaldi, pp. 292–5.
· 2 Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 298–301.
· 3 ‘mente permansit debilis’, Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 318–19.
· 4 Goscelin, Miracula S. Kenelmi, pp. 84–5.
· 5 Geoffrey, Miracula S. Modwenne, pp. 216–19.
· 6 ‘Gloria in excelsis Deo, Alleluia.’ Osbern, Miracula S. Dunstani, p. 133.
· 7 Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxxx–lxxxi.
· 8 Goscelin, Miracula S. Mildrethe, p. 207.
· 9 ‘… ut solito more Deo reddant grates!’ Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 288–9.
· 10 Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 292–7.
· 11 Wulfstan, Narratio de S. Swithuno, pp. 504–7.
· 12 Goscelin, Miracula S. Kenelmi, pp. 78–81.
· 13 Osbern, Miracula S. Dunstani, pp. 136–7.
· 14 Miracula S. Guthlaci, pp. 57–8. See also Appendix I on the elaborations used for certain feast days.
· 15 Goscelin, Miraculis S. Augustini, p. 406.
· 16 Aelred, De sanctis Hagustaldensis, pp. 177–81.
· 17 John Caldwell, ‘The “Te Deum” in Late Medieval England’, Early Music, 6 (1978), 188–94 (p. 188).
· 18 Byrhtferth, Vita S. Ecgwini, pp. 280–7; Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, p. lx; Goscelin, Translationis S. Augustini, p. 418; Goscelin, Virtutibus S. Adriani, Cotton Vespasian B.xx, fols 239v-40v, Harley 105, fols 210v-11v; Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 108–11; Symeon, Libellus, pp. 150–1; Dominic, Miracula S. Ecgwini, pp. 90–1; Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 135–41, 160–3.
· 19 Examples of non-specific hymnody include Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 318–19; Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 58–9; Passio S. Edwardi, pp. 14–15; Miracula S. Ætheldrethe, pp. 114–15; Geoffrey, Miracula S. Modwenne, pp. 198–201; Aelred, De sanctis Hagustaldensis, pp. 186–7; Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxxiii–lxxiv; Goscelin, Virtutibus S. Adriani, Cotton, Vespasian B.xx, fol. 236r, Harley 105, fols 207r-207v.
· 20 Goscelin, Miraculis S. Augustini, pp. 404–5. The Benedictus, or Canticle of Zachary, is found at Luke 1. 68–79.
· 21 John Harper, The Forms and Orders of Western Liturgy from the Tenth to the Eighteenth Century: A Historical Introduction and Guide for Students and Musicians (Oxford: Clarendon, 1991), p. 80.
· 22 Inge B. Milfull, ed. and trans., The Hymns of the Anglo-Saxon Church: A Study and Edition of the ‘Durham Hymnal’, Cambridge Studies in Anglo-Saxon England, 17 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 107–472. On other elements of festal observance see Appendix I.
· 23 Wulfstan, Narratio de S. Swithuno, pp. 458–9; Goscelin, Translationis S. Augustini, p. 423. The Te Deum was also chanted by Kenelm during his execution, Goscelin, Miracula S. Kenelmi, pp. 60–1.
· 24 Neil Christie, On Bells and Bell-Towers: Origins and Evolutions in Italy and Britain, AD 700–1200, Brixworth Lecture: Second Series, 4 (Brixworth: The Friends of All Saints’ Church, 2004), p. 8.
· 25 John H. Arnold and Caroline Goodson, ‘Resounding Community: The History and Meaning of Medieval Church Bells’, Viator, 43 (2012), 99–130 (p. 100).
· 26 Eadmer, Miracula S. Dunstani, pp. 180–1; Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 104–9; Wulfstan, Narratio de S. Swithuno, pp. 452–5.
· 27 Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 292–7.
· 28 Byrhtferth, Vita S. Ecgwini, pp. 280–7; Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 104–9; Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxvii–lxviii; Goscelin, Virtutibus S. Adriani, Cotton, Vespasian B.xx, fol. 236r, Harley 105, fols 207r-207v; Osbern, Miracula S. Dunstani, pp. 136–8; Miracula S. Mylburge, pp. 568–70; Dominic, Miracula S. Ecgwini, pp. 92–3; Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 135–41.
· 29 Arnold and Goodson, pp. 127–8.
· 30 Knowles and Brooke, pp. 122–7.
· 31 As noted above, this did not mean they were the final authority in an investigation into a miracle; this seems to have been the role of the abbot or bishop. However, the sacristan would have been the person on the ground, and they seem to have had a major role in witnessing and celebrating miracles. See Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 292–7; Miracula S. Mylburge, pp. 568–70; Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 104–9 for the use of bells and the sacristan. For the role of the sacristan more generally see Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 288–9; Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 28–39, 58–9, 346–9; Goscelin, Vita S. Vulfhilde, pp. 415–16.
· 32 Osbern, Miracula S. Dunstani, pp. 136–8.
· 33 Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 104–9; Goscelin, Virtutibus S. Adriani, Cotton, Vespasian B.xx, fol. 236r, Harley 105, fols 207r-207v; Osbern, Miracula S. Dunstani, pp. 136–8; Dominic, Miracula S. Ecgwini, pp. 92–3; Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 135–41.
· 34 Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 290–1.
· 35 Ibid., pp. 292–3.
· 36 G. W. Bowersock, and others, eds, Late Antiquity: A Guide to the Postclassical World (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999), pp. 440–1.
· 37 Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 306–7.
· 38 Ibid., pp. 330–3.
· 39 Ibid., pp. 318–19.
· 40 Goscelin, Miraculis S. Augustini, p. 404; Goscelin, Translationis S. Augustini, p. 437; Goscelin, Miracula S. Mildrethe, pp. 194–7; Goscelin, Virtutibus S. Adriani, Cotton Vespasian B.xx, fols 235r-35v, Harley 105, fols 206r-07v; Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 340–1; Dominic, Miracula S. Ecgwini, pp. 90–1, 106–9; Miracula S. Ithamari, pp. 430–1, 434–5.
· 41 Goscelin, Translationis S. Augustini, p. 437; Goscelin, Virtutibus S. Adriani, Vespasian B.xx, fols 234v-235r, Harley 105, fol. 206v; Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 104–5.
· 42 Miracula S. Ithamari, pp. 433–6; Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 340–1.
· 43 Miracula S. Bege, pp. 516–17; Geoffrey, Miracula S. Modwenne, pp. 186–7, 198–201; Dominic, Miracula S. Ecgwini, pp. 92–3; Goscelin, Vita S. Edithe, p. 293.
· 44 Geoffrey, Miracula S. Modwenne, pp. 186–9.
· 45 Miracula S. Bege, pp. 518–19.
· 46 Miracula S. Mylburge, pp. 567–8.
· 47 Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 128–33.
· 48 Megan Holmes, ‘Ex-votos: Materiality, Memory, and Cult’, in The Idol in the Age of Art: Objects, Devotions and the Early Modern World, ed. by Michael Cole and Rebecca Zorach (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2009), pp. 165–88 (pp. 160–3).
· 49 Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 135–41.
· 50 Holmes, p. 161.
· 51 Brian North Lee, ‘The Expert and the Collector’, in Beyond Pilgrim Souvenirs and Secular Badges: Essays in Honour of Brian Spencer, ed. by Sarah Blick (Oxford: Oxbow, 2007), pp. 4–16 (p. 8).
· 52 Sarah Blick, ‘Votives, Images, Interaction and Pilgrimage to the Tomb and Shrine of St. Thomas Becket, Canterbury Cathedral’, in Push Me, Pull You: Art and Devotional Interaction in Late Medieval and Renaissance Art, ed. by Sarah Blick and Laura D. Gelfand (Leiden: Brill, 2011), pp. 21–58 (p. 58).
· 53 Goscelin, Miraculis S. Augustini, pp. 400–1; Goscelin, Miracula S. Mildrethe, pp. 176–8.
· 54 Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 676–7; Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 142–5; Goscelin, Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxix–lxx.
· 55 Adrian R. Bell and Richard S. Dale, ‘The Medieval Pilgrimage Business’, Enterprise & Society, 12 (2011), 601–27 (pp. 616–18).
· 56 Charles Eveleigh Woodruff, ‘The Financial Aspect of the Cult of St. Thomas of Canterbury’, Archaeologia Cantiana, 44 (1932), 13–32 (p. 16).
· 57 Passio S. Edwardi, pp. 13–14.
· 58 Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 308–11.
· 59 Goscelin, Translationis S. Augustini, pp. 418, 428–9.
· 60 Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 94–8.
· 61 Aelred, De sanctis Hagustaldensis, pp. 186–7.
· 62 Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 308–11.
· 63 Aelred, De sanctis Hagustaldensis, pp. 186–7.
· 64 Eadmer, Vita S. Anselmi, pp. 159–65; Eadmer, Miracula S. Oswaldi, pp. 308–13; Goscelin, Translationis S. Augustini, pp. 414–17, 435–6.
· 65 Eadmer, Vita S. Anselmi, pp. 159–60.
· 66 Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 318–19.
· 67 Goscelin, Miraculis S. Augustini, pp. 400–1.
· 68 Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 324–5.
· 69 Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 318–19; Arcoid, Miracula S. Erkenwaldi, pp. 135–41; Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 104–9.
· 70 Byrhtferth, Vita S. Ecgwini, pp. 290–7.
· 71 Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 346–9.
· 72 Miracula S. Bege, pp. 510–12.
· 73 Goscelin, Miracula S. Mildrethe, pp. 179–81.
· 74 Goscelin, Translationis S. Augustini, pp. 426–7.
· 75 Goscelin, Miraculis S. Augustini, pp. 410–11.
· 76 Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 58–9.
· 77 Herman, Miracula S. Edmundi, pp. 36–7.
· 78 Miracula S. Bege, pp. 513–15.
· 79 Miracula S. Yuonis, pp. lxxvii–lxxviii.
· 80 Geoffrey, Miracula S. Modwenne, pp. 192–9.
· 81 Donald Weinstein and Rudolph M. Bell, Saints and Society: The Two Worlds of Western Christianity, 1000–1700 (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1982), p. 5.
· 82 Dee Dyas, ‘To Be A Pilgrim: Tactile Piety, Virtual Pilgrimage and the Experience of Place in Christian Pilgrimage’, in Matter of Faith: An Interdisciplinary Study of Relics and Relic Veneration in the Medieval Period, ed. by James Robinson, and others, Research Publication, 195 (London: British Museum, 2014), pp. 1–7 (pp. 4–5).
· 83 Jörg Rüpke, The Religion of the Romans, trans. by Richard Gordon (Cambridge: Polity, 2007), p. 149.
· 84 Klaniczay, ‘Certain Conditions’, p. 238.
· 85 Mauss, The Gift, pp. 3–6.
· 86 James Laidlaw, ‘A Free Gift Makes No Friends’, The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 6 (2000), 617–34 (p. 632).
· 87 Brown, Saints, p. 61.
· 88 Yunxiang Yan, ‘Unbalanced Reciprocity: Asymmetrical Gift Giving and Social Hierarchy in Rural China’, in The Question of the Gift, ed. by Mark Osteen (London: Rout-ledge, 2002), pp. 67–84 (pp. 80–1).
· 89 Graeber, p. 221.
· 90 Blick, p. 25.
· 91 For example, Odo who promised to repeat his thanksgiving yearly, Goscelin, Translationis S. Augustini, pp. 426–7, and the young man who went back to Hadrian for a cure having remembered his previous one, Goscelin, Virtutibus S. Adriani, Vespasian B.xx, fols 238v-39r, Harley 105, fols 209v-10r.
· 92 Lantfred, Miracula S. Swithuni, pp. 318–19.