December the 29th was the feast of the martyrdom of St
Thomas Becket. Just in case you didn't know. You might not I suppose. It is
possible that there are those out there who don't spend their lives dealing
with medieval saints and pilgrimage, and therefore might have missed this
momentous event. However, if you have an interest in medieval history, and
happen to be on social media, then it was pretty difficult to miss. There were
medievalists tweeting and posting images of beautiful pilgrim badges, amazing
stained glass, and a few rather gory wall paintings, whilst others discussed
the location of his shrine at Canterbury cathedral, or the archaeology of
cathedrals themselves. It was rather like Christmas day all over again for the average
medievalist. However, it left me with something of a question. It was clear
that the cult of St Thomas was incredibly popular during the later Middle Ages,
with all these works of art, written references, and archaeology telling us so,
but how do we judge the popularity of lesser known saints from the period?
So how do you judge exactly how popular a saint was during
the Middle Ages? The obvious thing to do was ask the experts, and garner a few
opinions from others as to how they would determine the general popularity of a
medieval saint? So, in time honoured tradition, I posted the question to
twitter. The results were certainly plentiful, and there were a wide variety of
answers soon filling my twitter feed. However, it soon became clear that nothing
was really very clear at all. That there was no single answer, and that each
source of evidence was likely to produce different, and sometimes outright
contradictory, results.
One of the first suggestions was that the number of churches
dedicated to a particular saint could be deemed a general indicator as to how
widespread was the devotion to that particular cult. Churches, unlike works of
art or manuscripts, are fairly solid and enduring pieces of evidence. However,
it was also pretty clear that, what seemed at face value a fairly
straightforward indicator, was anything but clear. In the first instance there
is the little known fact that church dedications are nowhere near as stable and
unchanging as many people perceive them to be. In short, they changed. South
Lopham in Norfolk began life dedicated to St Nicholas, but today stands as St
Andrews, Binham Priory is today dedicated to the Holy Cross, but undoubtedly
began life as St Mary's. Studies of Norfolk church dedications (we have 650+
surviving medieval churches after all) have suggested as many as 20% of modern
church dedications are not the same as the original medieval dedication.
 |
| Binham Priory |
There are also still churches today where we are a little
unclear as to what the original dedication was, or if there even was one. Take
Great Witchingham in Norfolk, commonly referred to today as St Mary's - the
most common dedication in England. However, it has been argued that the
original dedication was to the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, a dedication you
will find in several guidebooks and websites, whilst others argue, based upon
the evidence of the carved porch spandrels, that the original dedication was
actually to the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Exactly what it was in
the medieval period - we don't know. It has also been a long held belief
amongst some scholars that church dedications may have had nothing to do with
the veneration of a particular saint, but rather reflect the name-saint of the
principal donor, or even the saints day upon which the church was consecrated.
Then there are the saints that we know were popular in the
late medieval period, and yet almost never appear as church dedications, or
amongst most surviving art works of the period. The most obvious is perhaps St
Christopher, whose image was to be found upon the walls of most medieval
English churches, and is the most common single saint to be found amongst surviving
medieval wall paintings. Reference to these images are also frequently to be
found amongst the written records, and yet, despite this near universal
popularity, you will find a bare handful of churches dedicated to the saint,
and even fewer depictions in the other surviving artworks of the period. For
example, you will look in vain for the saint on East Anglian rood screens. The
same is true of St Barbara, who is commonly depicted on rood screens and panel
paintings, and is amongst the most popular saint depicted on late medieval
copper alloy pilgrim badges, and yet has only two known medieval churches
dedicated to her - both now lost.
It is also worth remembering that a church dedication
represents only a single moment in time. St Remigius for example, has no less
than four medieval churches dedicated to him in the county of Norfolk (out of
only six in the whole of England), and yet you will hunt in vain through the
documentary records and wills, the images on rood screens and wall paintings,
for reference to this fifth/sixth century evangelist who reputedly baptised the
king of the Franks (or was Bishop of Lincoln, or rector of Hethersett -
depending upon which source you choose to believe). If church dedications alone
were an indicator of popularity then Remigius can be regarded as being far more
popular than St Christopher or St Barbara.
Almost all of the arguments above can also be applied to
other strands of evidence, such as the time taken to officially recognise a
saint, or precedence of festivals and feasts. This is particularly true when
looking at a period when 'unofficial' cults could take a firm hold in a very
short space of time, and yet never resulted in the formal acceptance of the
potential new saint. Consider for example the popular cults of Richard Caister
of Norwich, John Shorne of Long Marston, and king Henry VI. All three of these
individuals had popular cults grow up around their memories in the fifteenth
century, and yet none of the three were ever formally canonised.
All of these informal cults are exceptionally visible in
many of the strands of evidence, with all three attracting pilgrims to their
sites, having pilgrim badges created in the honour, and being depicted in
stained glass, on rood screens, and in wall paintings. However, you'll find
none of them amongst the lists of the festivals and feasts of the medieval
church. You'll find no formal and orthodox dedications to their memory. As
saints, they do not formally exist, and yet we can see evidence of their
popularity on myriad levels. There are almost as many surviving medieval pilgrim
badges attributed to Richard Caister of Norwich as there are to St Alban, and
Henry VI appears nearly as often on East Anglian rood screens, and amongst references
to church statues, as Mary Magdalene.
So where then does that leave us?
One would consider the documentary evidence, particularly at
a parish level, to be a fairly solid source of evidence, but even here things
are not always as they seem. Take for example the tiny Devon parish of
Morebath, whose accounts and records have been subject to detailed study by
Eamon Duffy in his excellent book - 'The Voices of Morebath'. On the 30th
August 1520 the village welcomed a young and enthusiastic new priest,
ChristopherTrychay, who was to remain in the parish for the next fifty-four
years. However, the priest brought more than just zeal and enthusiasm with him
to his new parish. In his first year it is recorded that he personally paid for
the creation and gilding of a statue of St Sidwell, a local saint popular in the
Exeter region, that was placed within his new church. Over the coming decades
Trychay fostered the cult of the saint in the parish, encouraging gifts and
small acts of devotion, bequests and benevolences, so that by the eve of the
reformation the cult of St Sidwell in Morebath was almost as prominent as that
of the Virgin Mary - with at least two young girls within the parish having
been named after Sidwell.
Seen from an outside perspective, the growth of the cult of
St Sidwell within the parish would appear to clearly evidence the local growth
in popularity of what was clearly a local saint. A superficial examination of
the paperwork would support this, and might even lead a historian to ponder how
such localised cults become established? However, the deeper research into this
particular parish has allowed us to understand that the growth and popularity
of this particular cult was actually the direct result of the personal zeal of
one particular parish priest; one man whose own devotion to the saint has led
to a complete bias of the written evidence. If this was the case in Morebath it
raises the question of how often this may well have been the case elsewhere?
It becomes perhaps more complex still if we consider other
areas of written evidence. My own research has clearly indicated that even such
seemingly straightforward sources such as post-mortem pilgrimage bequests -
when an individual left money in their will for others to undertake pilgrimages
on their behalf - were more likely to appear within surviving wills from
particular locations than from others. In essence, such bequests appear in
geographical clusters, suggesting either that those making their wills were
influenced by the individuals writing them (scribal influence), or they were
simply emulating the actions of others in the same locality - a post-mortem
'keeping up with the Jones'.
And if you think all that is just a bit confusing - it
actually gets even worse. Certain saints appear largely in only one strand of
evidence, and are almost entirely absent elsewhere. Take for example the late
medieval cult of Catherine of Sienna. Jennifer N. Brown has convincingly shown
that the saint became incredibly influential in the fifteenth and early
sixteenth centuries, particularly amongst literate female followers, with
extracts of her writings surviving in numerous sources. However, the saint
almost completely fails to make the translation from the written works to being
depicted in popular religious art. Despite Catherine's demonstrable importance
she appears only on a single retable (the Dartmouth, or Battel Hall, retable), and
a rood screen in Devon. A third possible depiction, on the rood screen at
Horsham St Faith in Norfolk, now appears more likely to be a depiction of the
Virgin as Queen of Heaven - and why anyone ever thought it might be Catherine
is something of a mystery.
In complete contrast to Catherine of Sienna is the story of
'Mistress Ridibowne'. She appears on the fifteenth century painted rood screen
at Gately in Norfolk, with additional references to pilgrimage bequests in a
very small number of Norfolk wills, and the 'possibility' that there was a
further image of her at Hackford church - also in Norfolk. The thing is, we
have absolutely no idea who she was. Although it has been suggested it might be
referring to Christina of Markyate, and it is clear that the cult involved a
minor site of pilgrimage, she really is a complete enigma. What is perhaps
worse is the fact that she isn't alone. We have references to other bequests
and offerings to minor shrines and cults that are just as much of a mystery.
 |
| Gateley rood screen figure |
So where then does this leave the original question I asked
on Twitter? How is it possible to judge the popularity of an individual saint
in the medieval period? Well, I think the only true answer is that there is no
one clear way; no single strand of evidence that can reflect the reality of
late medieval piety, particularly on a parish level. We can say the St Thomas
Becket and St Mary were incredibly popular in the later Middle Ages, and judge
other cults from relics, pilgrims, and bequests, but once you get down into the
nitty gritty of judging actual popularity, no one single strand of evidence
will ever tell us more than a single 'version'; a truth that may well be
supported by other forms of evidence, or, as we have seen, may well be totally
contradicted by them.
There were other suggestions made by those on twitter that I
do particularly like. For example, if the number of supposed relics claimed by
various churches adds up to more than one whole individual - and I'm thinking of
multiple claims to objects such as Aaron's rod, or the foreskin of Christ here
- then they were undoubtedly popular. A saint with eight arms, three skulls,
and five legs was undoubtedly a sought after individual. Likewise, I see a
bright future for the idea of Medieval Saints Top Trumps.
No comments:
Post a Comment