Once I was a clever boy learning the arts of Oxford... is a quotation from the verses written by Bishop Richard Fleming (c.1385-1431) for his tomb in Lincoln Cathedral. Fleming, the founder of Lincoln College in Oxford, is the subject of my research for a D. Phil., and, like me, a son of the West Riding. I have remarked in the past that I have a deeply meaningful on-going relationship with a dead fifteenth century bishop... it was Fleming who, in effect, enabled me to come to Oxford and to learn its arts, and for that I am immensely grateful.


Wednesday, 8 July 2020

The Scandal of Particularity


My Oriel chum the Rev. Marcus Walker, who is now the Rector of St Bartholomew the Great in London, has a good piece that is both topical and universal in its application in this week’s Spectator.  He makes a number of interconnected points that are relevant and transcend denominational differences. His article be read at Don’t erase Jesus’s Jewish identity


Dating the Cerne Abbas Giant


Environmental archaeology has, it appears, begun to give a definitive answer to a long-running question, that of the age of the Cerne Abbas Giant in Dorset. Despite its apparent antiquity there has been a sneaking suspicion amongst some that the chalk figure is nothing like as old as is traditionally thought, and that he is seventeenth century in origin rather than a survival from Roman times or earlier. The results of the latest research on the soil of the hillside are given in an article on the Mailonline website and can be seen at Cerne Abbas Giant is NOT prehistoric, snail shells reveal


More research should reveal in coming months a closer date for what is perhaps the greatest piece of political graffiti in the country rather than a cultic figure from a remote pagan past. We may lose one set of ideas about previous inhabitants of Dorset but gain a new set that can still engage us.


The tradition that it was at Cerne that St Augustine of Canterbury met so unproductively with the British bishops at the beginning of his ministry may not be very certain or likely, but I have always felt such a high powered meeting under the watching gaze of the Giant unlikely, or unlikely to be successful.


I have only once seen the Cerne Abbas figure, and that was from a coach window on a dull wet day as we were driven through the village. A year or two later in 1992 I was going on a holiday-research trip to Dorset and a friend in my home town was most insistent that I should send him a postcard of the Cerne giant as it is the only seemingly obscene photograph one can send en clair through the Royal Mail. I duly complied.


The Domesday Diet


The latest research on diet and nutrition at the time of the Norman Conquest is summarised in an article on HeritageDaily and has used material from excavations in Oxford, including the castle. Modern scientific analysis of human and animal bones has yielded details of what was the diet of the people recorded in Domesday and the years following.

The results are interesting because they are not surprising. That is they pick up particular fluctuations - the Anglo Saxon Chronicle is replete with references to years that were the worst in memory in the 1070s and 1080s - yet show a society that basically could feed itself and was not showing malnutrition in conditions such as rickets. One change seems to be a greater consumption of pork, and maybe an increase in urban pig-keeping.



Tuesday, 7 July 2020

In Time of Pestilence


The current pandemic has inevitably occasioned parallels being drawn with those of the past, not just the “Spanish Flu” of 1919, but also the bubonic plagues in the time of the Emperot Justinian in the sixth century and the Black Death of the fourteenth century and its continuing reappearances down to the later seventeenth century. From what one knows and learns about that one can be grateful for living in a time of coronavirus rather than that of Y-pestis.

The BBC News website has had two posts about the Black Death.

Crossrail digs up Black Death victims reports on the discovery and analysis of skeletons from the plague pit near Charterhouse in London. Amongst other things this points to the population mobility of the fourteenth century and to the fact that victims looked to be those who were poorer and physically in less good shape. No real surprise there but interesting confirmation of the yhrories of historians - one suggestion is that it was a population weakened in early life by the Europe wide famine of 1315-17 who were particularly vulnerable in 1348-50. 


There are a series of links to related posts about the discoveries at the conclusion of the post.


Black Death 'spread by humans not rats' argues that it was pests living on and near humans rather than those on black rats that spread infection in the outbreaks of plague. This may well be the case, although some evidence suggests medieval hygiene was actually better than that of the early modern period. 


Whilst we have reached the early modern we may as well take in an epidemic rather than a pandemic, that of syphilis in eighteenth century London. The Mailonline has a quite lengthy piece today about the latest research into venereal disease in the capital then which can be read at One in five 18th century Londoners caught syphilis, study reveals


It all puts present concerns - which should not of course be minimised - into historical perspective.


Envisaging the Shrine of St Thomas


Before we leave the feast day of his Translation here is another post about the cult of St Thomas of Canterbury. The Mailonline has a piece today about a new digital reconstruction of the Shrine, which has striking images of what it would have looked like. I had found some of these pictures on the Internet whilst preparing my first post today but, despite my best endeavours, they refused to copy and paste. However they can be seen and appreciated in Thomas Becket's 800-year-old shrine is digitally brought to life


Unsainting St Thomas


Whilst I was preparing my last post I came across a blog post about the actions taken in the 1530s to ‘desanctify’ St Thomas of Canterbury and to turn him into the false traitor ‘Bishop Becket’. This can be read at 

It makes for very interesting reading, and with an extremely useful bibliography, which includes such details as where Pope Paul III instructed his ensuing Bull of excommunication should be published on the French and Scottish borders of English territory.

The way in which the received story of St Thomas’ death was turned, to present him as being really most unreasonable in resisting his would-be murderers, is a good insight into the Cromwellian pop equivalent of the “Ministry of Truth”. The fact that the more than three and a half centuries dead Archbishop was summoned to answer the charges against him indicates the very strange world of 1530s England.

There is, alas, a topicality to this story. In 1538 St Thomas, and what he represented, was no longer politically correct, and must needs be denounced. His story is turned upside down and he is vilified. In 2020 the actions of past public figures whose actions - be they good or bad in absolute terms, and whether or not they showed contrition for them - are subjected to passing scrutiny and receive instant condemnation. The chattering classes jump on the bandwagon and off it goes, careering through our history and traditions. For those who are being proscribed their cult, their image must be not just denounced, it must be physically overthrown. 

King Henry VIII got his way but in 2020, Coronavirus not entirely withstanding, Archbishop Cranmer’s cathedral church in Canterbury is celebrating the life and death of St Thomas. In 2020 we see the 1538 Proclamation as risible. Those who today are so sure of their moral rectitude and ideological integrity might pause and reflect on that. The trouble is that too many are blinded by the luminosity of their own enlightenment that they see nothing beyond the particular “Holy Grail” of their own making. The clear light of History is undifferentiated sunshine, illuminating the whole, not a laser concentrated on one point to the exclusion of all others.

The Translation of St Thomas of Canterbury


Today is the Feast of the Translation of St Thomas of Canterbury, and marks the anniversary of the removal in 1220 of his relics from the crypt of Canterbury cathedral to the newly built shrine in the a Trinity Chapel. There they remained until the shrine was despoiled in 1538.


 
A Canterbury Pilgrim badge of 1350-1400
Image: Feasts, Fasts, Saints and Medieval Christianity


As probably the most popular pilgrimage site in England and in much of northern Europe, the shrine of St. Thomas at Canterbury became one of the most lavishly decorated shrines in Christendom. When the Cathedral was rebuilt after the fire of 1174, the east end was designed with the tomb in mind. Behind the high altar steps were built up into a sort of second chancel which formed a smaller gothic apse. Pilgrims could pass behind the choir stalls and the high altar and ascend into the apse, lit by the windows which recounted St Thomas’ miracles, to circumnavigate the shrine which was built in the centre of the Trinity Chapel. The shrine itself was a typical English one in its structure.  Created by the renowned Walter of Colchester the golden reliquary-coffin which contained the body of St. Thomas rested on raised arches into which pilgrims could crawl to be closer to the relics. Over the reliquary was another lid, in the same shape as the reliquary and draped in precious cloths. This could be lowered and raised to allow pilgrims to view the reliquary and to protect the precious shrine from thieves. Over most of the ensemble there was a golden net upon which the gifts of any pilgrims from smaller relics to jewellery to ex-votos were hung. On the ridge of the shrine chest were two model ships. It has been suggested they were to commemorate St Thomas’ flight into and return from exile in 1164 and 1170. A small figure points to a ruby, claimed to be the largest in existence and given in 1179 by King Louis VII of France. To the right another figure raises the cover of the shrine with ropes and a pulley. At the foot of the shrine was an altar and around the shrine were large, free-standing candlesticks. This kind of 'table shrine’ was very popular in England and can still be seen with remains of the shrines of St Frideswide at Oxford, of St Alban, of St Thomas Cantilupe at Hereford and of St Edward at Westminster. In around the year 1500, a Venetian pilgrim left this account of the shrine: 

The tomb of St. Thomas the Martyr, Archbishop of Canterbury, exceeds all belief.  Notwithstanding its great size it is all covered with plates of pure gold ; yet the gold is scarcely seen because it is covered with various precious stones, as sapphires, ballasses, diamonds, rubies, and emeralds ; and wherever the eye turns, something more beautiful than the rest is observed, Nor, in addition to these natural beauties, is the skill of art wanting ; for in the midst of the gold are the most beautiful sculptured gems, both small and large, as well as cameos ; and some cameos are of such a size that I am afraid to name it ; but everything is far surpassed by a ruby, not larger than a thumb nail, which is fixed at the right of the altar.  The church is somewhat dark, and particularly in the spot where the shrine is placed ; and when we went to see it the sun was near setting, and the weather was cloudy : nevertheless, I saw that ruby as if I had it in my hand. They say it was given by a king of France.

The following is a list of the various shrines within Canterbury cathedral associated with St Thomas and the offerings made at them on April 18th, 1303. Each of these were relics associated with Becket's martyrdom. It was not uncommon in English cathedrals to build a separate shrine for the saint's head as at Lincoln with St. Hugh, Lichfield with St. Chad, and also at Croyland Abbey with St. Guthlac. Becket's crown - the top of his head which was sliced off when he was killed - was kept in a part of the Cathedral called 'Becket's Crown,' a chapel at the extreme east end which is circular in shape. 

"At the Shrine of S. Thomas the Martyr, one brooch of gold.
At the same shrine in money: 7s.
At the Head of the same saint : 7s.
At the Point of the Sword where the saint underwent his martyrdom: 7s.
At the Cloak of the same saint: 7s.
At the Tomb of the same saint in the vault [ The original tomb in the cathedral crypt]: 7s."

From J. Charles Wall's Shrines of the British Saints
Adapted from Feasts, Fasts, Saints and Medieval Christianity

Every fifty years a Jubilee of St a Thomas was proclaimed. That of 1420 is the best documented as Archbishop Chichele successfully defended the right so to do against Papal claims that such a privilege was exclusively that of the Holy See.

One consequence of the current pandemic has been that planned commemorations at Canterbury hosted by the cathedral have had to be postponed to a new start date of December 29th. 

One relic that was due to return to Canterbury was what is believed to be the tunic (? surplice or rochet ) splattered with his blood worn by St Thomas at the time of his murder - he was on the way to Vespers at the time. It is now held at Sta Maria Maggiore in Rome. It was examined in 1992 and scientists from Munich University confirmed that it was most probably authentic as it dated from the mid-twelfth century, and had been made for a very tall man, which matched descriptions of Becket from the period.

Fr Robert McCulloch of the Missionary Society of St Columban has said: 'The archives of the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore show that the tunic has been kept there since 1485. There is a theory that Henry VII gave the tunic of a great English saint and martyr to the then pope [ Innocent VIII ] because he wanted to please him as he was trying to get him to canonise Henry VI. 

'If Henry VI was made a saint, Henry VII thought this would put his House of Tudor, with its links to the Lancastrian Henry VI, in a good light. It's ironic that his son, Henry VIII, then broke with Rome and had Becket's shrine destroyed.'

In recent years a relic of St Thomas has been brought back to Canterbury on a visit from Esztergom in Hungary.

At Sens cathedral in France are vestments - chasuble, stole, maniple and episcopal shoes, together with an alb - associated with St Thomas from his time there in exile in the 1160s. At one time these were used on the feast day of St Thomas at Sens and on those occasions the cathedral authorities had to use the tallest of their clergy and then pin the vestments up, testimony to St Thomas’ height. Copies of these are held by the cathedral in Canterbury 

 Chasuble in Sens Cathedral treasury thought to have been worn by Thomas Becket and venerated as a contact relic
Image: kent.ac.uk

What is traditionally regarded as a mitre belonging to St Thomas was given to Cardinal Wiseman by the then Archbishop of Sens and can be seen in the V&A, though their detailed website account of 
is doubtful as to the specific link, although regarding the dating it is certainly possible.

When I was actively involved in the life of the church of St Thomas the Martyr here in Oxford - founded about twenty years after the murder of the saint - the patronal feast was always observed on ‘St 
Thomas’ Sunday’, the one closest to July 7th. This also meant that, as in the middle ages, the saint could be commemorated with appropriate celebrations without clashing with Christmastide on his other feast day, that of his martyrdom on December 29th.

For those interested in learning more about St Thomas and his times there are, of course, numerous biographies and studies including the biography of the Archbishop by Frank Barlow, the works of Dom David Knowles - perhaps now rather dated - and the massive life of King Henry II by W. L. Warren. In addition there is the blogspot Constitutions of Clarendon which has numerous posts about the conflict between King and Archbishop. I will add it to the side bar for future reference.

St Thomas of Canterbury Pray for us

Monday, 6 July 2020

Spanish Birettas


John Paul Sonnen has a post on the Liturgical Arts Journal today about the distinctive, historic, and let’s face it, rather endearing, ecclesiastical headgear traditional for Spanish clergy, the Spanish biretta. The way the medieval pileus soft head covering evolved into the stiffened biretta in Spain was different from the rest of Europe, with four horns rather than the three ( four for academic distinctions) vanes that became normative elsewhere. 

The illustrated article can be seen at The Spanish "El Bonete Español" Biretta 
and even includes where to go to get such a biretta in Madrid.