Relics, Shrines and Pilgrimages: Sanctity in Europe from Late Antiquity 9780367188672, 9780429198908

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
List of figures
List of tables
Contributors
Introduction: relics, holiness, and devotion
1 Relics as historical objects: overview, methods, and prospects
PART 1 The relics of St James in Europe
2 Relics and pilgrimages of St James the Greater in France
3 Keeping the Angevin peace: the hand of St James in England
4 Roncesvalles as a reliquary on the way to Santiago
5 Visiting the Apostle Santiago: pilgrimages to Santiago de Compostela in the 16th to 19th centuries
6 The course and consequences of the reinventio of the relics of St James in 1879
PART 2 Furta sacra
7 The theft of relics in the Middle Ages: arguments, typology, and legitimacy
8 Furta sacra in southern Italy in the Middle Ages
9 The Three Magi: places of worship in Cologne Cathedral
PART 3 The resilience of relics and shrines
10 Mobile martyrs and forgotten shrines: the translation and domestication of relics in post-reformation England
11 The life of dry bones: pilgrimage to relic shrines in Soviet Russia
PART 4 Relics and science
12 The relics of the True Cross: an interdisciplinary approach
13 The relics of St John in the monastery on the island of Sveti Ivan near Sozopol, Bulgaria: archaeological and scientific research
Index

Citation preview

Relics, Shrines and Pilgrimages

Since Late Antiquity, relics have provided a privileged spiritual bond between life and death, between human beings and divinity. Royalty, nobility, and clergy all tried to obtain the most prestigious remains of sacred bodies, since they granted influence and fame and allowed the cult around them to be used as a means of sacralization, power, and propaganda. This volume traces the development of the veneration of relics in Europe and how these objects were often catalysts for the establishment of major pilgrimage sites that are still in use today. The book features an international panel of contributors taking a wideranging look at relic worship across Europe, from Late Antiquity until the present day. The book begins with a focus on the role of relics in Jacobean pilgrimage, before looking at the link between relics and their shrines more generally. The focus then shifts to two major issues in the study of relics: the stealing of relics (furta sacra) and their modern-day scientific examination and authentication. These topics demonstrate not only symbolic importance of relics but also their role as physical historical objects in material religious expression. This is a fascinating collection, featuring the latest scholarship on relics and pilgrimage across Europe. It will therefore be of great interested to academics working in pilgrimage, religious history, material religion and religious studies as well as anthropology, archaeology, art and cultural studies. This book has been undertaken within the framework of the research project of the Spanish Government entitled “Las peregrinaciones a Santiago de Compostela en la España de la segunda mitad del siglo XIX: entre tradición y modernidad en el contexto europeo”. MINEICO, Programa Estatal de Fomento de la Investigación Científica y Técnica de Excelencia, Subprograma Estatal de Generación de Conocimiento, 2015–2017, IP: Dr. Antón M. Pazos (CSIC), HAR2014–58753. Antón M. Pazos is currently a member of the Pontifical Committee of Historical Sciences and Vice President of the International Commission for History and Studies of Christianity (CIHEC). He is also Deputy Director of the Instituto de Estudios Gallegos Padre Sarmiento (IEGPS), Spanish National Research Council (CSIC) in Santiago de Compostela, Spain, and a member of the editorial committees of the journals Hispania Sacra and Cuadernos de Estudios Gallegos. At the IEGPS he is the coordinator of a line of research into pilgrimage, which has been the driving force behind several research projects, especially in the organization of the International Colloquia Compostela.

Relics, Shrines and Pilgrimages Sanctity in Europe from Late Antiquity

Edited by Antón M. Pazos

First published 2020 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 selection and editorial matter, Antón M. Pazos; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Antón M. Pazos to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-0-367-18867-2 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-19890-8 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by Apex CoVantage, LLC

Contents

List of figures List of tables Contributors Introduction: relics, holiness, and devotion

vii viii ix 1

A N TÓ N M . PA ZO S

1 Relics as historical objects: overview, methods, and prospects

11

P H I L I P P E G E O RGE

PART 1

The relics of St James in Europe 2 Relics and pilgrimages of St James the Greater in France

39 41

A D E L I N E RU CQUO I

3 Keeping the Angevin peace: the hand of St James in England

63

S I M O N YA R ROW

4 Roncesvalles as a reliquary on the way to Santiago

78

J O S É A N D R É S -GA L L E GO, ME RCE DE S UN ZU, MAR ÍA PER ÉX, CA R L O S Z U Z A, N ICO L Á S ZUA ZÚA, AN D MA RÍA G A RC Í A - B A R BE RE N A

5 Visiting the Apostle Santiago: pilgrimages to Santiago de Compostela in the 16th to 19th centuries

92

O F E L I A R E Y CASTE L AO

6 The course and consequences of the reinventio of the relics of St James in 1879 A N TÓ N M . PA ZO S

109

vi

Contents

PART 2

Furta sacra 7 The theft of relics in the Middle Ages: arguments, typology, and legitimacy

129

131

E D I N A B O ZO KY

8 Furta sacra in southern Italy in the Middle Ages

146

A M A L I A G AL DI

9 The Three Magi: places of worship in Cologne Cathedral

164

K L AU S H A R DE RIN G

PART 3

The resilience of relics and shrines

179

10 Mobile martyrs and forgotten shrines: the translation and domestication of relics in post-reformation England

181

A L E X A N D R A WAL SH AM

11 The life of dry bones: pilgrimage to relic shrines in Soviet Russia

203

S TE L L A RO C K

PART 4

Relics and science

223

12 The relics of the True Cross: an interdisciplinary approach

225

G E O R G E S KA ZAN A N D TH O MA S H IGH A M

13 The relics of St John in the monastery on the island of Sveti Ivan near Sozopol, Bulgaria: archaeological and scientific research

247

K A Z I M I R P O P KO N STAN TIN OV AN D RO SSINA KOSTOVA

Index

263

Figures

4.1 9.1 10.1 10.2 11.1 11.2 12.1 13.1

The archaeological site of Ibañeta Shrine of the Three Magi, Cologne Cathedral The shrine of Thomas Becket prior to demolition “The Pedlar’s Chest” St Simeon of Verkhoturye’s sarcophagus, 1910 “Bless you!” Proposed layout of major relics of the Wood at Constantinople in c. 680 The marble reliquary

84 167 185 193 206 209 232 251

Tables

5.1 Patient admissions to Santiago Royal Hospital 5.2 Patient admissions to different hospitals

101 102

Contributors

José Andrés-Gallego, PhD in Philosophy and Letters (University of Navarra). Emeritus Professor at the Spanish National Research Council (CSIC) in the Instituto de Historia (Madrid). Former President of the Catholic University of Ávila. Edina Bozoky, Emeritus Professor at the University of Poitiers. Member of the Centre d’Études Supérieures de Civilization Médiévale. She works on medieval religion, in particular on cults of saints and on relics and miracles. Amalia Galdi, Associate Professor of Medieval History at the University of Salerno, specialist in religious history and, in particular, the cults of the saints and hagiographic literature in Italy between the eighth and the 14th centuries. María García-Barberena, PhD in History. Archaeologist of the Gabinete Trama (Pamplona). Philippe George, PhD in Philosophy and Letters (University of Liège). Curator of the Treasure of the Cathedral of Liège. Former President of the Institut Archeologique Liégeois. Correspondant of the Societé Nationale des Antiquaires de France. Klaus Hardering, PhD in History, studied history of art, historical geography, and town planning in Bonn and Leiden. Head of Cologne Cathedral Archive since 2007. Academic assistant at Cologne Cathedral from 1990. Thomas Higham, Professor of Archaeological Science and Director of the Oxford Radiocarbon Accelerator Unit, University of Oxford. Co-founder of the Oxford Relics Cluster at Keble College, Oxford. Georges Kazan, DPhil (Oxon) in Archaeology. Collegium Fellow, Turku Institute for Advanced Studies & Department of Archaeology, University of Turku. Research Associate, School of Archaeology, University of Oxford. Co-founder of the Oxford Relics Cluster at Keble College, Oxford. Rossina Kostova, PhD in History (Central European University, Budapest). Associate Professor of Medieval Archaeology of Bulgaria and the Balkans

x

Contributors in the Department of Archaeology at St Cyril and St Methodius University of Veliko Turnovo, Bulgaria. Member of the Bulgarian Association of Scholars in Byzantine and Medieval Studies and national representative on the International Commission for the History of Towns.

Antón M. Pazos, Deputy Director of the Instituto de Estudios Gallegos Padre Sarmiento of the Spanish National Research Council (CSIC), in Santiago de Compostela (Spain). Member of the Pontifical Committee of Historical Sciences. María Peréx, PhD in History. Associate Professor of Ancient History at the Universidad Nacional de Educación a Distancia (Madrid). Kazimir Popkonstantinov, Emeritus Professor of Bulgarian Medieval Archaeology and Medieval Slavic and Byzantine Epigraphy at St Cyril and St  Methodius University of Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria. Winner of the European Herder Prize for significant contribution to the discovery and study of the cultural roots of southeastern Europe (2004). Ofelia Rey Castelao, PhD in History from the University of Santiago de Compostela. Professor of Modern History at the University of Santiago de Compostela. Winner of the Josefa Wonenburger Prize of the Galician Autonomous Government (2011). Stella Rock is affiliated to the Open University’s religious studies department and to the Institute for the Academic Study of Eastern Christianity, Vrije Universiteit, Amsterdam. She also serves on the academic advisory board of the Keston Center for Religion, Politics and Society at Baylor University, Texas. Adeline Rucquoi, Docteur d’État ès Lettres (History). Emeritus Professor at the CNRS. Winner of the Gobert Prize of the Academie Française (2016). Member of the International Committee of Experts on the Way of St. James. Mercedes Unzu, PhD in History. Founder of Gabinete Trama, in Pamplona (Spain), an organisation focused on historical and archaeological studies. Alexandra Walsham, Professor of Modern History and Fellow of Emmanuel College at the University of Cambridge. Fellow of the British Academy and of the Australian Academy of the Humanities. Simon Yarrow, DPhil (Oxon). Senior Lecturer at the University of Birmingham. He is currently working on the material and religious culture of relics in 12th- and 13th-century England. Nicolás Zuazúa, PhD in History from the Autonomous University of Madrid. Archaeologist, specialist in numismatics. Carlos Zuza, Archaeologist in Gabinete Trama (Pamplona).

Introduction Relics, holiness, and devotion Antón M. Pazos

Relics have historically been linked, as a matter of course, with pilgrimages. Very rarely has a more or less famous relic failed to attract pilgrims. Hence their capacity, for centuries, to reinforce the power or prestige of those who possessed them: religious institutions, cities, or individuals. But these issues, commonly addressed in academic studies, which usually confine themselves to the relationship between relics and power, do not exhaust the analysis of the phenomenon. Indeed, they probably constitute a partial interpretation, which should be applied only when it is relevant. The key feature of relics is essentially theological: it is rooted in devotion and worship. And it refers to the intercession of the saints before God. If that relationship disappears, as it did in the case of the Protestant Reformation, which rejected any mediation between the believer and God, relics are mere remains. And by the same token, pilgrimage becomes pointless. It is well known that Luther, in his many references to the pilgrimages to Compostela,1 not only doubted that the apostle was present in Santiago but also went so far as to suggest, “using his characteristic vitriolic language that would be considered ‘clickbait’ today”,2 that the bones venerated by pilgrims could be those of an ass or a dog. Pilgrims, however, looked beyond the mere materiality of the bones they venerated. To focus, in analyzing pilgrimage shrines on the veracity of their relics or the use to which they have been put by civil or ecclesiastical power ignores a fundamental purpose that gives meaning to every relic: pious remembrance. The faithful wanted – and want – relics for reasons of pure devotion. In other words, a relic was a means of stimulating their piety. Felipe II, a systematic collector of relics – and of books3 – made this quite clear when he said that they did not make him more powerful – although he amassed more than 7,000 at the Escorial – but more devout: His faith in relics [. . .] was unshakeable, although he accepted that the objects in themselves were mere symbols, in the sense that it did not much matter if they were sometimes not genuine. He once declared: “We shall not lose our merits before God by reverencing the Saints in bones, even if they are not theirs”.4

2 Antón M. Pazos We should therefore consider whether it is enough to treat them as “an active instrument of a broader rhetoric of power”,5 or whether they should be seen in the broader context of holiness. From the latter point of view, they are thus part of the search for means to help the believer reach God, or a remembrance that serves as a stimulus to greater personal faith: this offers us a different way of reading their “capacity to operate as a locus and conduit of power”.6 And obviously they perform a mediating function, which is why “scholars of a Protestant disposition, by contrast, treated relics as an embarrassing manifestation of irrationality and superstition, an unedifying reflection of the conjunction between blind faith and amazing credulity, and greed, that blighted premodern civilization”.7 Catholic reasoning was precisely the opposite. Relics were regarded – and used – during the period of the Catholic Reformation as a useful instrument for revitalizing holiness:8 In the first half of the seventeenth century, with the rise of the CounterReformation, France, like so many other countries in the same period, was pervaded by a veritable “climate of the miraculous”. The latter was due not only to the assertion of old pilgrimage sites. [. . .]. The climate of the miraculous in the seventeenth century went hand in hand with a new glorification of sanctity.9 It is probably this bond between the believer and the relic that explains why their use has survived despite persecutions, as happened in England in the early Reformation, and why they have re-emerged at the least opportunity, as in Soviet Russia: because they provide believers with a bridge to God. Clearly, the cult of relics requires three conditions: “Evidence of a devotion, legitimacy of a practice, commitment of an authority”.10 Although legitimacy cannot be deduced from theology, since one can do without relics, it can be linked to holiness.11 Holiness, which justifies relics and their use, is thus combined with the requirement of authenticity and with power, which confirms relics and, at the same time, uses them for its own benefit.12 In this book, though obviously not in every case, the pilgrim’s search for holiness in relation to relics might offer a more original reading than the usual political or power-based approaches. To take a recent example, the greatest proponent of the Camino de Santiago in the 1930s and 1940s, Manuel Aparici, promoted it precisely as a spiritual pilgrimage that transcended the journey and the relic itself. To him, the pilgrimage to the apostle’s relics was the best symbol of the great Christian objective: the search for holiness in the journey of life.13

Uses of relics The uses of relics differ according to the user. To indicate two extremes, one could speak of a contradistinction between the ways a relic is used by its

Introduction

3

owners and by pilgrims, although among pilgrims there is also a plurality of uses, ranging from disinterested veneration to a request for material benefit. On the other hand, the owner, a chapter, monastery, local lord or municipality, normally uses the relic for prestige or profit, almost always without regard for the intentions of true pilgrims.14 Naturally, we must take account of the fact that these uses evolve over time. Whereas in the Middle Ages, power and politics are the key issues that many historians have used to interpret relics, in later centuries, those criteria changed, also as a result of the social reorganization of power, which was increasingly linked to money. In the 19th century, and still more in the 20th, relics – because of the pilgrimages they mobilized – were very often seen as a source of wealth or economic revitalization. That, in part, was the perception in 19th-century Compostela after the rediscovery of the ancient tomb of the Apostle and in San Giovanni Rotondo in the 21st century with the new church designed by Renzo Piano to house the body of Padre Pio of Pietralcina in its crypt.15 At Compostela, it was hoped that as well as revitalizing the cult of the apostle, it would revitalize a city in decline,16 and at San Giovanni Rotondo, the intention was to channel a mass of pilgrims, who generated direct and indirect income, in a positive way. Indeed, the construction of the new church of Padre Pio was actually financed by donations. Over the course of time, political use can turn into essentially devotional use. Or political use can cease to be positive and become negative. The political use of relics in the USSR in the 1930s is very significant in this respect. Relics were used in antireligious teaching to debunk peasant fanaticism or transferred to museums to strip them of any spiritual character and turn them into a mere historical record or an art object by virtue of the reliquary that contained them. In both cases, at least initially, the relics were more powerful than the attempt to use them negatively: When the relics of St Feodosy of Totma were moved to Vologda museum of church antiquities and iconography, a similar phenomenon occurred: “A mass of people came to the museum not to look at artistic antiques, but to venerate these relics, moreover some brought candles which they tried to stand by the relics, and also made attempts to leave money”.17 In any case, political use, which is usually seen as very clear,18 at least with hindsight, may be supplemented by other uses on the part of pilgrims. This is what André Vauchez seems to be arguing in the prologue to Reliques: le quatrième pouvoir, where he notes that “while there has been a remarkable boom in the historical study of forms of sanctity, hagiographical texts and miracles among medievalists since the mid-1960s, relics have only quite recently become an object of research”.19 The combination of a range of fields in the study of relics and their capacity to configure pilgrimage circuits and centres must form part of current studies. The tendency, however, is to focus on the material, political, or artistic study of relics, perhaps because these aspects are easier to analyze, rather than on their ability to mobilize people.20

4 Antón M. Pazos Without entering into the typology of relics, we must bear in mind that they may be interpreted in many ways by those who venerate them. This, it seems to me, is the focus of interest in historical analysis. They must also be seen therefore not only from the perspective of the usual interpretations – power, propaganda, consecration – but also from that of their interpretation by pilgrims. Relics were, and are, religious objects with two main purposes, devotional and cultural. It is not easy to separate them, since they are meaningless in isolation, but perhaps we could ascribe a more personal or individual character to the former and a more social or collective character to the latter. That, in general, is always the starting point. Even in extreme cases, such as the one analyzed here by José Andrés-Gallego on Roncesvalles, the first staging-post in Spain on the Road to Santiago, the possible nature of the church as a reliquary is linked, certainly, to a historical memory – a battle – but also to a material object – a rock – and to a more or less regulated or canonical devotion. Of course, in Russia as well as in England or Compostela, to cite three examples analyzed in this book, the revitalization of relics always starts from the finding or recovery of a material object endowed with a specific liturgy – a cultural character – that is favoured or endorsed by popular support expressed in the form of devotion. And devotion reflects the perception of both the holiness of the relic and that of the pilgrim. In other words, what counts is not the canonical rule but the intentions of users.21 And here it is worth recalling that while on the one hand, relics were imposed on the hierarchy from the bottom up, on the other, they were very useful for reinforcing central aspects of theological doctrine, such as the communion of saints.22 The “real” relationship of pilgrims with rediscovered relics, whether in the 19th century or the 21st, is reinforcement not only of the memory of the saints but also of communion with the saints themselves. And it is made explicit in forms of devotion and liturgy.

Santiago: a non-material relic In the special issue of the journal Past and Present coordinated by Alexandra Walsham, the very title – “Relics and Remains” – points to a facet that seem necessary, in principle, in every relic, and consequently in every pilgrimage site: remains. In a case we discuss more thoroughly in this book, that of Santiago de Compostela, this requirement is also met: the Cathedral always prided itself on preserving the whole body of the apostle. In other words, it possessed not just remains but also the remains. But for centuries they were not visible. What is more, no one knew where they were. It was not a unique case: the body of St Francis was buried secretly, and for centuries its location in the basilica was unknown. Neither of these relics was visible or visitable, and therefore, a fortiori, they were not transportable, which was also an essential feature of most relics.23 That invisibility, again

Introduction

5

in both cases, was deliberate. The object was to prevent thefts or unwanted transfers. In the case of Santiago, pilgrims who asked where the body was for which they had made the journey were told, in generic terms, that it was under the high altar,24 but in the modern era doubts were raised as to the authenticity of the relic itself, whose whereabouts, in principle, were then unknown. The doubts arose, on the one hand, as a natural reaction to the mass of false relics to be found all over Europe, especially in France, which had everything from the tear of Vendôme to the foreskin of Charroux,25 and of course several bodies of St James.26 The fact that Spain did not take part in the Crusades to the Holy Land probably prevented such an inordinate proliferation of false relics in the Iberian Peninsula. When questions were raised on the patronage – and the relics – of St James, they were motivated both by financial considerations and by national prestige. Financial considerations, to avoid the offerings that were paid to the shrine. Ofelia Rey Castelao, the leading specialist on this issue, discusses it in this book.27 But also national prestige, since an attempt was made to replace St James as patron of Spain with a saint who was Spanish, such as St Teresa.28 However, despite being controversial, under attack, and invisible, the relic of the apostle weathered the storm. This absence of a visible relic was acceptably compensated for by pilgrims with an alternative ritual: embracing the statue of St James, an 11th-century sculpture clothed in Baroque finery in the 17th century. But in any case, relics have their rules, and contact between the pilgrim and the relic – not necessarily physical, but definite – is a fundamental rule. It was probably for this reason that the search for the apostolic remains was pursued, continuously as well as discreetly, throughout the early modern period. When one ossuary, which was immediately deemed to be the repository containing the remains concealed centuries before, was discovered in 1879 – that is to say, when the reinventio occurred29 – the cathedral and the pilgrimage changed. Nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century pilgrims continued to perform the alternative ritual, but as a more cordial – and secondary – way of greeting the apostle, whom they could now address face to face, venerating him in a new crypt under the high altar. Devotion was not expressed in the 19th century as it had been in the 16th, but it does seem clear that pilgrims’ accounts after the reinventio reflect a more intense stimulation of holiness itself, through this new direct mediation. All of them went to the crypt on arrival or departure, or celebrated mass there, if they were priests.30 In other words, in Santiago in the 19th century, we witness the transition from a pilgrimage shrine with no visible relic – an anomaly – to a situation of normality: there was now a clear physical point of reference – the crypt with the remains – which pilgrims could regard as the culmination of their journey. Naturally this entailed a thorough renovation of the cathedral to adapt it to the new way of venerating its patron.

6 Antón M. Pazos

Authors and chapters Needless to say, not everything I have just discussed is reflected exactly in this book, but it may serve as a guiding thread to understand what we have sought to do. There is a central idea or aim, which is to analyze relics connected with pilgrimages. In other words, the essential focus is relics that are venerated, that are “living”, so to speak, or have been “resuscitated”, like those that were rediscovered in the 19th century. And all of them, as such, summon pilgrims to the place where they are venerated. In some cases, we can see the resilience of relics in the face of persecution, in others, the revitalization of the pilgrimage as the result of a discovery or a new way of bringing the faithful into closer contact with a relic, but the overall theme is the relationship between relic and pilgrimage. Reliquaries are not of interest here as art objects in isolation, but as forms of presentation or ways of encouraging the presence of pilgrims. Direct contact with relics, reduced, prohibited, and finally renewed in Russia, or the implementation of a new architectural structure for cultural purposes, as in Santiago, need to be analyzed only in order to show how the uses of relics were enhanced over time. The book is divided into four parts, related to the overall theme I have just mentioned and articulated around the following topics: relics of St James, thefts of relics, the resilience of relics, and the possibilities that scientific study now offers for the analysis of relics. There is also a framing chapter, by Philippe George, which delineates the study of relics and current research trends. The author, who has recently published a good synthesis of what relics were and what they meant,31 suggests that authenticity is not the important issue for historians. Indeed, “broadly speaking, I would even say that the more false relics are, the more interesting they are to us”. Also useful is George’s classification of relics according to their typology, although many variations are possible: a typology of archaeology and art history, a typology of hagiography, or a chronological typology. And no less interesting is his confirmation of the real impact of relics on the faithful: “The further I pursue my research, the more I am amazed by the role of relics as a mediator (a medium, an ‘intermediary’)”. I think it is worth highlighting his approach to relics as the first “mass media”: “These sacred objects were instruments of communication, media avant la lettre, even if they were primarily thought of as ‘leading us to the hereafter’”. His view of the future of research in the “Prospects” section may also be useful to those starting out on the study of relics. After this chapter, which serves as a general introduction, Part 1, on St James, contains five chapters. In Chapter 2, Adeline Rucquoi studies the relics of St James in France, which was for centuries a highly fanciful and credulous country in this area, in striking contrast to the hypercritical

Introduction

7

Enlightenment perspective of the 18th century or the brutal iconoclasm of the Revolution. In Chapter 3, Simon Yarrow analyzes the relic of St James in Reading and its importance in peacemaking and power politics at the time. Chapter 4 by José Andrés-Gallego provides a detailed account – supported by historical and archaeological data – tracing the “martyrial” nature of Ibañeta, which was linked both to the Carolingian cycle and to the Way of St James, although the relationship between them is difficult to prove. In Chapter 5, Ofelia Rey Castelao examines the situation of pilgrims visiting Compostela in the early modern period, a time of both tax income and obscuring of the visible relic. Finally, in Chapter 6, Antón M. Pazos presents the changes arising from the rediscovery of those relics – the reinventio – in the 19th century. This section as a whole offers a good overview of the relics of St James in Compostela and elsewhere and of their uses and mutations, adapting over time to the changing circumstances of political, cultural, and religious sensibility. Part 2, on thefts of relics, naturally does not attempt to repeat or summarize what has already been said by Geary in his classic book on furta sacra,32 but rather to contribute new material. In Chapter 7, Edina Bozoky, author of pioneering studies on relics in France,33 presents the motives for the various thefts, how they were carried out and how they were subsequently legitimated, normally by the civil authorities. Her study serves as a frame for two chapters on furta sacra in two European regions. The more familiar of these is probably Cologne, studied by Klaus Hardering in Chapter 9. Less well known are the thefts that took place in southern Italy, analyzed by Amalia Galdi in Chapter 8. The thefts show not only the power that relics possessed in the Middle Ages but also their resistance, their virtual indestructibility in popular piety. And that is the subject of Part 3. In Chapter 10, Alexandra Walsham offers an excellent analysis of that resistance in England following the Protestant Reformation, and in Chapter 11, Stella Rock presents the same resistance in Russia, in both cases amid fierce persecution, which was almost more aggressive in England than in the Soviet Union. The last part of the book, Part 4, examines two cases involving scientific analysis, both associated with Oxford University’s centre for the study of relics. In Chapter 12, Georges Kazan and Thomas Higham, from the Oxford Relics Cluster, present the research being carried out on relics of the Holy Cross, combining historical research with the most advanced scientific technology. The same has been done, combining archaeology and science, with the relic of St John the Baptist in Bulgaria, studied by Kazimir Popkonstantinov and Rossina Kostova in Chapter 13. The book as a whole therefore provides a plural, interdisciplinary, and chronologically wide-ranging view, but one that also focuses on its central object, seen from different angles: pilgrimages and relics.

8 Antón M. Pazos

Notes 1 Santiago, or the pilgrimage to Compostela, is mentioned 275 times in Luther’s works. Santos, “El camino”, 373–4. See also Almazán, “Lutero”, 534. 2 Lev, How Catholic, 203. 3 Including – in separate stacks – hundreds of prohibited books. Kamen, El enigma, 132. 4 Kamen, El enigma, 273. On his scepticism about many of the relics he had been sent, see Lazure, “Posséder”, 372. 5 Lazure, “Possessing”, 62, quoted in Walsham, “Introduction”, 25. This is a translation of Lazure, “Posséder”, 375, although one must bear in mind that the author limits his study to “exploring the political and symbolic, rather than religious, functions attributed to relics by Philip II”. Lazure, “Posséder”, 374. 6 Walsham, “Introduction”, 13. 7 Ibid., 15. It may be useful to look at the Catholic critique of pilgrimages after the Protestant Reformation, exemplified in the case of Santiago de Compostela in Buide, “Removiendo Roma”. 8 The use made of art, the themes of which have much to do with sanctity and doctrine, in the Catholic Reformation is attractively presented in Lev, How Catholic. That set of instruments used in the 16th and 17th centuries to renew Catholic holiness also included relics, given further impetus by the discovery of the catacombs and with painstaking artistic promotion of the most significant examples, as in the case of St Cecilia, with Maderno’s realistic image of the saint on her tomb. 9 Burkardt, “Voyage de dévotion”, 501. 10 Boutry, Fabre, and Julia, “Avant-propos”, 14. 11 “Belief, knowledge and power thus weave a dense fabric around the relic, and this certainly plays no small part in ensuring its survival, not only because it protects it, but because the relic offers an invaluable receptacle for this holy alliance”. Ibid., 15. 12 An illuminating example is the way in which the city of Pistoia used the relic of Santiago sent by Diego Gelmírez in the 12th century for prestige. See Francesconi, “Il Comune”. 13 On the spiritual view of pilgrimage in the 20th century, see García, “En recuerdo” and Caamaño, “70 aniversario”. 14 False pilgrims, constantly denounced from the Middle Ages onward, did obtain profit. Indeed, in some cases their false pilgrimage was their livelihood. But this was not true of the generality of pilgrims. 15 Danish, “Padre Pio”. A critical view of the architectural plan can be found in Alderman, “Lost Between”. 16 See Pazos’s chapter in this book. 17 See Rock’s chapter in this book. 18 “The discovery of the tomb [of St James], probably around 830, by Bishop Theodemir of Iria and King Alfonso II the Chaste of Asturias, if we are to believe the texts that relate the event more than two centuries later, answered a political need”. Rucquoi, “Préface”, 7. 19 Vauchez, “Préface”, 11. 20 Although some studies of reliquaries may give rise to alternative cultural or necrophiliac “pilgrimage” circuits, a strange development of the initial uses of relics. The eye-catching book by Gagneux, Reliques et reliquaires could be used in this way, for example. 21 The “buts des usageurs”, in the words of a pioneer of the approach to sainthood and relics. See Duval, Auprès des saints, i. 22 George, Reliques, 18. 23 “A further key element is transportability and mobility: relics are objects that carry meaning over space as well as allowing it to endure in time”. Walsham, “Introduction”, 11.

Introduction

9

24 25 26 27 28 29 30

See Guerra, Exploraciones, 125, n. 185. Boutry, Fabre, and Julia, “Avant-propos”. See Rucquoi’s chapter in this book. See Rey’s chapter in this book. See Buide, “Un siglo”. By analogy with the inventio in the ninth century. As the French parish priest Edmond Jaspar did, celebrating mass on the remains for all his parishioners. Jaspar, Relation. 31 George, Reliques. 32 Geary, Furta Sacra. 33 She was co-editor of Bozoky and Helvétius, Les reliques.

Sources and bibliography Alderman, M. “Lost between Sea and Sky: Looking for Padre Pio in Renzo Piano’s Pilgrimage Church”. Sacred Architecture 18 (2010): 8–12. Almazán, V. “Lutero y Santiago de Compostela”. Compostellanum 32, no. 3–4 (1987): 533–59. Boutry, P., P.-A. Fabre, and D. Julia. “Avant-propos”. In Reliques modernes: cultes et usages chrétiens des corps saints des Réformes aux révolutions, directed by P. Boutry, P.-A. Fabre, and D. Julia. Vol. 1, 9–17. En temps & lieux 7. Paris: Éditions de l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 2009. Bozoky, E., and A.-M. Helvétius, eds. Les reliques: objets, cultes, symboles. Hagiologia 1. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1999. Buide del Real, F.J. “Removiendo Roma con Santiago: la crítica católica moderna al culto jacobeo”. Compostellanum 62, no. 3–4 (2017): 305–56. Buide del Real, F.J. “Un siglo de cuestión jacobea”. Compostellanum 55, no. 3–4 (2010): 435–502. Burkardt, A. “Voyage de dévotion et quête du miracle à travers les procès de canonisation de saints français de la première moitié du XVIIe siècle”. In Rendre ses vœux: les identités pèlerines dans l’Europe moderne (XVIe-XVIIIe siècle), directed by P. Boutry, P.-A. Fabre, and D. Julia, 501–29. Civilisations et Societés 100. Paris: Éditions de l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 2000. Caamaño Aramburu, J. “70 aniversario de la magna peregrinación de Acción Católica en el Año Santo de 1948”. Peregrino: revista del Camino de Santiago 177–8 (2018): 54–7. Danish Architecture Center. “Padre Pio Pilgrimage Church”. Arcspace. Accessed 25 May 2019. https://arcspace.com/feature/padre-pio-pilgrimage-church/. Duval, Y. Auprès des saints, corps et âme: l’inhumation ad sanctos dans la chrétienté d’Orient et d’Occident du IIIe au VIIe siècle. Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1988. Francesconi, G. “Il Comune e i santi: il culto iacobeo e l’‘acclamazione’ del potere a Pistoia (secoli XII-XIV)”. In Culto dei santi e culto dei luoghi nel Medioevo pistoiese, edited by A. Benvenuti, and R. Nelli, 157–72. Pistoia: Società Pistoiese di Storia Patria, Fondazione Cassa di Risparmio di Pistoia e Pescia, 2010. Gagneux, Y. Reliques et reliquaires à Paris (XIXe-XXe siècle). Histoire religieuse de la France 30. Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 2007. García Azpillaga, P. “En recuerdo de Manolo Aparici (1902–1964): un adelantado del Camino de Santiago”. Peregrino: revista del Camino de Santiago 108 (2006): 11. Geary, P.J. Furta Sacra: Thefts of Relics in the Central Middle Ages. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990.

10 Antón M. Pazos George, P. Reliques: le quatrième pouvoir. Nice: Les Éditions Romaines, 2013. Guerra Campos, J. Exploraciones arqueológicas en torno al sepulcro del Apóstol Santiago. Santiago de Compostela: Cabildo de la S.A.M. Iglesia Catedral de Santiago, 1982. Jaspar, E. Relation d’un pèlerinage à Saint-Jacques de Compostelle, faite au prône du dimanche 2 septembre 1883. Douai: Louis Dechristé, 1883. Kamen, H. El enigma del Escorial: el sueño de un rey, translated by E. Alexander. Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 2009. Lazure, G. “Posséder le sacré: monarchie et identité dans la collection de reliques de Philippe II à l’Escorial”. In Reliques modernes: cultes et usages chrétiens des corps saints des Réformes aux révolutions, directed by P. Boutry, P.-A. Fabre, and D. Julia. Vol. 1, 371–404. En temps & lieux 7. Paris: Éditions de l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 2009. Lazure, G. “Possessing the Sacred: Monarchy and Identity in Philip II’s Relic Collection at the Escorial”. Renaissance Quarterly 60, no. 1 (2007): 58–93. Lev, E. How Catholic Art Saved the Faith: The Triumph of Beauty and Truth in Counter-Reformation Art. Manchester: Sophia Institute Press, 2018. Rucquoi, A. “Préface”. In Le voyage à Compostelle du Xe au XXe siècle, edited by A. Rucquoi, F. Michaud-Fréjaville, and P. Picone, 7–23. Paris: Robert Laffont, 2018. Santos Solla, M. “El camino en el pensamiento de Ramón Llull, Roberto Holkot y Martín Lutero”. Compostellanum 36, no. 3–4 (1991): 363–81. Vauchez, A. “Préface”. In Reliques: le quatrième pouvoir, edited by P. George, 11–22. Nice: Les Éditions Romaines, 2013. Walsham, A. “Introduction: Relics and Remains”. Past & Present 206, no. supplement 5 (2010): 9–36.

1

Relics as historical objects Overview, methods, and prospects* Philippe George

What is a relic? What are they for? How did their cult develop? Which are the most venerated? These questions immediately come to mind and are of interest both to scholars, in all disciplines, and to the general public. As André Vauchez notes: “While there has been a remarkable expansion among medievalists since the mid-1960s in the historical study of forms of sanctity, hagiographic texts and miracles, relics have only recently come within the purview of research”.1 Relics have become historical objects. The word, from the Latin reliquiae, -arum, feminine plural, denotes remains.2 In ecclesiastical language it is identified as the holy remains of Christ, the saints, and the blessed, and by extension as objects sanctified by their touch. It was used in this sense for the first time by St Augustine in 397.3 First, we must clearly define the actual nature of the object. The basic terminology of relics distinguishes between corporeal and historical relics. The former are bones and blood, the latter all objects associated with the memory of Christ or of a saint, their legend as well as their history, those that they used or owned, in fact or by repute: clothing, everyday items, instruments of their penance, captivity, or torture. A third category comprises representative or contact relics, objects contained in reliquaries that have absorbed the holy virtus, the “living, miraculous, protective force”, by proximity to other relics: tombs, strips of cloth touched to tombs (brandea), or any other object.

An overview The Middle Ages saw a prolonged development of the cult of saints, a pervasive element of the medieval mindset. Relics played a considerable part in this process, as the saint was considered to be present and to exercise power through their intermediation. While the quintessential examples are bones, there was a whole series of other relics. The Holy Shroud and the Holy Cross are well known, and some secular ostentations (public showings or displays) and pilgrimages are still practised today. Too often only the spectacular aspect of relics has been considered: their trafficking seems

12

Philippe George

shocking to us. But the research domain is vast, and there are numerous centres of historical interest. Relics are outstanding instruments of communication with profound media power in society. The cult of relics runs through every historical period, from Late Antiquity onward; it concerned Christ and every saint, or group of saints, though the sworn devotion of both religious and lay people. Relics have become a new and real historical field.4 The ongoing systematic publication of the holdings of church treasuries is providing new documents. The opening of shrines by skilled archaeologists has made it possible to compile reliable inventories of their contents and publish the results. The written sources that have been discovered, quite apart from their obvious palaeographic interest, sometimes throw light on the history of a religious building or an artwork – the container, the reliquary – and mention the names of saints, places, and characters. The archaeological objects that accompany them are of various kinds. All this maps out the “routes of faith” and, in a broader sense, reveals the traces of human contacts, a remarkable puzzle to piece together, falling largely outside the strictly hagiological domain. The circulation of property and people and the networks put in place are revealed by these multifarious material traces, which greatly contribute to our knowledge of the past. Here begins “the job of the historian”. Actually, interest in relics is not new; what has changed is their interpretation: the perspectives we have acquired have altered our approach to the subject. I have long been arguing for a new approach to this new historical object, entirely setting aside its spectacular dimension and working in a calm, dispassionate manner conducive to research. By way of an overview,5 in the French-speaking context, I would first like to pay tribute to two general works that represent milestones in the field: the proceedings of the colloquium organized by Edina Bozoky and AnneMarie Helvetius in Boulogne in 1997, and then the volume of Pecia edited by Jean-Luc Deuffic in 2005.6 And I would also like to recall here the memory of Marie-Madeleine Gauthier, a pioneer in this field in relation to art history. The general survey I published on relics was subtitled “the fourth power”, referring in general terms to media and channels for disseminating information and to means of communication in a broad sense.7 I chose this short and incisive expression in apposition to the word “relics” to underline the pervasive influence exerted by relics on society, in the Middle Ages, obviously, but also long afterwards, and to venture a comparison with the current ubiquity, indeed pre-eminence, of information. I am of course aware of the liberty I have thereby taken with the exact meaning of the expression, and especially with its historical meaning. The further I pursue my research, the more I am amazed by the role of relics as a mediator (a medium, an “intermediary”), the media power they exerted and how deeply embedded they were at every level of society, quite apart from the recognized intercessory role of saints. Relics were involved in grand ceremonies which shaped opinion, but they also played a major role in people’s private lives. These sacred objects were

Relics as historical objects

13

instruments of communication, media avant la lettre, even if they were primarily thought of as “leading us to the hereafter”.8 English-speaking scholars have a knack for synthesis, and also perhaps for catchy titles. Both Peter Brown9 and Patrick Geary10 were quickly translated. The title Thefts of Relics made an impression at the time: the book was particularly useful for providing a rapid means of referring to the most important thefts. Ireland, in turn, is also very fertile territory for research; one recalls the importance Colombanus († 615) attributes to relics in his letters.11 Scandinavia is revisiting its saints and their relics.12 The Netherlands, despite the ravages of the Wars of Religion, still has interesting relics,13 and some beautiful examples are preserved in the Catherijneconvent Museum in Utrecht. Here, as elsewhere, we find ourselves in the realm of exhibitions.14 The Swiss, for their part, have not only expatiated on the term “Treasury”15 but also restored one of their most ancient examples, that of Agaunum (Saint-Maurice).16 Philippe Cordez’s thesis serves as a transition to Germany, as it has also appeared in German.17 In the Germanic sphere, Hedwig Röckelein has been working for a long time on relics and treasuries:18 she adopts an interdisciplinary perspective that the Centre d’Études Médiévales d’Auxerre has been developing for a number of years.19 A remarkable research instrument for Cologne is provided by Hans-Joachim Kracht and Jakob Torsy,20 following Anton Legner’s exhibitions, which include Ornamenta ecclesiae in 1985. And of course there are the treasuries themselves, those that have survived through the centuries, those that have disappeared, and those whose holdings have been dispersed. Renovation makes it possible to take a new approach to the works that have constituted their basis and ensured their development. So it is with Agaunum, Halberstadt, Quedlimburg, and Essen, among many others, and indeed also Liège, where we have just completed the renovation begun over 20 years ago.21 On the Iberian region, let me just mention Marc Sureda i Jubany’s research on Vic,22 from the art history point of view, and the corpus of crosses valiantly undertaken by César García de Castro Valdés in Oviedo.23 Oviedo has just recently taken a critical look at its treasury.24 In Santiago, as well as the Instituto de Estudios Gallegos Padre Sarmiento, I would like to mention José Suárez Otero and his archaeological excavations.25 This international survey could be continued, but it is doomed from the outset to be inexhaustible, whether we turn to Italy, Poland, the Baltic or Adriatic coasts, or Byzantium. In this inventorial spirit, we should a adapt a phrase from a Mosan list of relics of around 1185 to our overview: the monk had had enough of copying out the names of the relics and ended his writing with the comment “whose name only God knows”,26 which had already occurred in relation to the Holy Ark of Oviedo: e aliis qvam plvrimis sanctis qvorvm nomina sola dei sciencia coligit (“and of many other saints whose names only the wisdom of God can recall”).27

14

Philippe George

Treasuries of relics led to cabinets of curiosities. The shift from the sacred to the profane took place gradually, depending on the objects the treasury came to contain, such as those reliquaries made from coconuts or ostrich eggs, or the use of coral or unusual precious stones to decorate reliquaries. In a kind of inventory of the treasuries of churches in Venice, it is recorded that “en la Maison Dieu de Venise est l’un des gros dens d’un jayant c’om appeloit Goliast, lequel jayent David occist. Et sachiés que icellui dent a plus de demypié de long” (“In the Almshouse in Venice is one of the large teeth of a giant who was called Goliath, and David killed this giant. And you should know that this tooth is more than half a foot long”).28 Hence the definition I have proposed: a church treasury becomes the memory and the historical and artistic consciousness of a community, a town, or a region. It preserves that community’s relics of saints as its primary remains, but also a large number of the most disparate objects, a precious collection, spiritual but at the same time also material, foreshadowing museums, the favoured conservators of art. A typology of archaeology and art history As early as the beginning of the 18th century, Dom Jean Mabillon noted that in a religious building, everything revolves “around the cult of saints and their relics”. Over the centuries, the space in churches was indeed gradually organized so as to enhance the visibility of the saint’s tomb and the internal traffic of the liturgy. In Late Antiquity, the first meetings of Christians were held near the traditional funerary cult. They later moved from the funerary mausoleum to the crypt: from the martyrium highlighted by André Grabar to the various types of crypts.29 A masterly reading of the 375 most significant crypts in France has been conducted by Christian Sapin, making comparisons with nearby countries.30 The transformations of monuments over time make them difficult to interpret. Interment ad sanctos developed them so as to secure the saints’ protection by occupying these privileged burial places beside them. The whole arrangement was thus devised to house the relics and present them to pilgrims as a focus of devotion within the building. Basilicas ad corpus were established over existing mausoleums in the Merovingian period, when the cult of saints was consolidated, sometimes in two-tier constructions.31 The cult began at the saint’s burial place, its actual foundation, eventually located by archaeological excavations: the stone sarcophagus with a human figure (c. 730) of Chrodoara († c. 634), also known as St Ode, buried under the choir in Amay-sur-Meuse,32 or that of St Gertrude († 659) in Nivelles.33 This was the origin of the crypt in the usual sense of the term. From the ninth century, vaulted crypts, as opposed to wooden-roofed buildings, became the appropriate place for the veneration of saints (reliquary crypts). Laid out under the chevet were annular crypts (semi-circular passages), as in Rome, others in the form of angled passages for straight chevets, as in

Relics as historical objects

15

Saint-Gall, or yet others with complex structures reflecting the success of the pilgrimages. In Auxerre, the Carolingian construction (before 841) reconfigured the space and incorporated the tomb of St Germain († 448) while preserving his original place of interment and the basic masonry: a deambulatory was created around the ancient oratory with its crypts, described by Martène and Durand in 1717 as “perhaps the most venerable place in the kingdom”. A list of all the publications on Saint-Germain d’Auxerre34 would enable me to cite numerous authors working directly or indirectly on this subject35. It would be unthinkable not to mention here the pioneering studies of Carol Heitz († 1995),36 on the relationship between architecture and liturgy in the Carolingian period, secondary altars and station liturgy – and the celebrated reformer Chrodegang († 766). The nine ivory plaques attached to the lower (back) cover of the celebrated Drogo Sacramentary37 (Metz, c. 845) show nine scenes from a Eucharistic celebration in Metz Cathedral. On plaque no. 1 (actually no. 6), we can see the bishop sitting at the back of the apse with the deacons on stools in front of him; further away is the altar surmounted by its ciborium, and in the background, the relic pouches hanging from a rood beam. This arrangement was used again in the 11th-century cathedral. The text of the cathedral’s Caeremoniale says that these pouches (phylacteria) were hung from a beam (trabes) at the entrance to the liturgical choir. At Ponthieu, in the diocese of Amiens, the rich sanctuary then known as Centula, before taking the name of Saint-Riquier after its legendary founder, St Richarius, under the direction of Abbot Angilbert († 814), son-in-law and adviser to Charlemagne, became the prototype of the western ante-church or “westwork”.38 Angilbert’s Carolingian abbey is known from texts and from the famous print of 1612, before the Gothic reconstruction. The outer crypt was added by Abbot Gervin († 1075): it has four altars containing numerous relics, close to the tomb of St Richarius. François Héber-Suffrin and Anne Wagner39 have clearly shown that the crypt of Saint-Riquier seems to be related to a Mosan group (Stavelot, Malmedy, and Fosses, for example),40 which follows an ancient tradition developed in the Carolingian period. At a time when an increasing number of ambulatories were appearing in France, Lower Lotharingia, particularly the Meuse region, remained faithful to the old tradition of the outer crypt, extending the western end of the building. Gervin designed his sanctuary annex, his burial place, with the intention of adhering to Angilbert’s original plan, founded on relics. In the spiritual conception of his crypt, Gervin’s initiative exalted Richarius’s tomb still further, and at the same time, it sought to recreate and expand the inherited historical memory of relics assembled by Angilbert, which Norman looting, in particular, had diminished.41 A deep trace remained in the minds of Angilbert’s successors, reflected in the 11th-century crypt, later on in the Gothic abbey church, and then in certain renovations in the modern era. Indeed, when the sanctuary was

16

Philippe George

restructured in the 17th century, reliquaries were installed in it in a similar arrangement on the beams connecting the columns of the Gothic hemicycle. The buildings gradually came to be seen as vast monumental reliquaries.42 Churches and altars were the normal places for preserving relics. In certain cases, they were hung over altars, at Laon and Stavelot, for example. Crucifixes in churches sometimes contained relics. At Ringelheim, the relics were placed in the head of the Bernward Crucifix (Hildesheim, c. 1000). The monumental cross at Niedermünster (2.70 m high), a masterpiece of the medieval silversmith’s art, in Alsace, halfway up the famous Mont Sainte Odile, disappeared during the Revolution. In 1197, it was converted into a reliquary cross; five cavities housed relics (the foreskin of Christ, wood from the Cross, the robe of the Virgin, arms of St Basil and St Denis). Relics were sometimes immured, for example at Angers and at San Clemente in Rome, or enclosed in columns (Magdebourg, Monte Cassino) or capitals (Magdebourg Cathedral, Saint-Michel de Cuxa, St Michael’s Church in Hildesheim). At Mont-Saint-Michel, relics were placed in the cross on top of the church tower, at the highest point of the hill, as they were at Nantes and Reims in the ninth and tenth centuries. As Jean-Pierre Caillet has rightly written, “this pattern serves all the better to reflect the idea that the saints, whose relics are arranged in each of the apsidal chapels around the perimeter, constitute the true seat of the kingdom of God”.43 Dominique Iogna-Prat examines the Maison Dieu (“House of God”): from 800, this “comprehensive enterprise of social construction” in Charlemagne’s Christian Empire established “a hierarchically ordered set of complementary centres and functions”.44 The development of a doctrine of places of worship in the West led to the earthly visibility of the Church through the establishment of specific places, especially churches and cathedrals. The phenomenon of the “monumentalization” of the Church as a community and of its “petrification” in church buildings began from the first known images in mosaics, around 400, of the bishop carrying a model of his church in Ravenna (fifth–sixth centuries), reaching its first turning point in the Carolingian period. It was then that architectural symbolism acquired a sacramental aspect in the form of an ecclesiastical hierarchy and a merging of container and content, metonymically embodied to perfection around 845 in a miniature in the celebrated Drogo Sacramentary,45 already mentioned for its cover. The initial D of Deus is inhabited by a church, which in turn contains a representation of the ecclesiastical community: the priest, standing behind the altar, on which there is a chalice, under a ciborium, is celebrating mass facing the faithful gathered in the nave.46 On 2 October 1049, Pope Leo IX presided over the ceremonies for the consecration of the Basilica of Saint-Remi in Reims, which are very well documented.47 The translation of the body of St Remigius, Apostle of the Franks, and its installation in its new Romanesque resting place was carried out in three phases over two days. First, the Pope received the relics of

Relics as historical objects

17

St Cornelius, brought by the monks of Saint-Corneille in Compiègne, who were fleeing from the acts of violence committed against their church. Then, a procession of the shrine of St Remigius was organized in the church, followed by a circuit that included the urban space around the city walls, and finally, the consecration, with a triple circuit of the crosses and saints’ relics around the building. St Remigius’s shrine was placed on the high altar and remained there for the duration of the following synod, in a “spatialized staging of the saint, the pope and the Church”. Either relics were associated with the altar or they were displayed in a specific place. At Saint-Vanne in Verdun, according to the chronicle of Hugues de Flavigny (11th century), the front of the choir in the church was occupied by three altars with shrines and the altar of St Peter was installed at the back of the apse. Rouen had 14 shrines at the end of the 12th century. From the mid-ninth century, at least, reliquaries could take their place on the altar. This became common practice for displaying relics,48 all the more so since their weight often made them difficult to move; in certain cases, moreover, small reliquaries were hung above the altar. From the Carolingian period, altars were equipped with suitable fittings to hold reliquaries. A raised device resting on the table foreshadowed Gothic altarpieces. The Paliotto or Golden Altar of St Ambrose in Milan, made by the goldsmith Vuolvinus around the middle of the ninth century, consists of two faces, with a small door in one of them opening onto the loculus for relics. At Grandmont, the remains of a high altar have made it possible to reconstruct an altarpiece with two steps which supported the monumental shrine of St Stephen of Muret, of around 1190–1230. The device exalted the main dedicatee saint. Thus, the altar on which the Body of Christ is made present,49 is related to the holy bodies, buried under the Eucharistic table, hidden in their “sepulchre” in the altar stone, displayed on the altar itself or placed in its vicinity. Through his study of rituals, Éric Palazzo leads us to portable altars, of which Michel Budde has compiled an inventory.50 In 1940, Joseph Braun listed and classified reliquaries in a monumental work,51 which provided a basis for interdisciplinary studies. The reliquary absorbed the virtus of the relic and the image became a key to understanding the medieval mind. The special issue of Gesta (1997) on Body Parts and Body-Part Reliquaries brought together what Brigit Falk had already sought to establish by cataloguing bust reliquaries.52 That of St Lambert in the Treasury of Liège Cathedral, the largest of the late Gothic period, alone provides a complete compendium of medieval symbolism from a historical and liturgical perspective, clearly intended by the Bishop of Liège around 1512. The role of the sponsor, the iconographic programme, the symbolism, the levels of reading and the meaning of reliquaries, their liturgical role, and their impact on a mostly illiterate audience all lead us to reconsider the role of images in the Middle Ages,53 according to the approach of the École Pratique des Hautes-Études to “image-objects”. Jérôme Baschet, taking up

18

Philippe George

a concept created by Jean-Claude Bonne, has defined the latter as images “inseparable from the materiality of their support, but also from their existence as objects, acted upon and acting, in specific places and situations, and involved in the dynamics of social relations and of connections with the supernatural world”.54 This definition particularly highlights the importance of the materiality of the support and of involvement in a relational dynamic in which the celebrant, the faithful, and of course Christ are here engaged. Words act through the material density that perpetuates them even as it exposes them to view. The body of words suggests the body of Christ. Wibald, Abbot of Stavelot and Malmedy (1130–58), with whom I must confess I feel very familiar, perfectly illustrates what I am saying. In 2004, Suzanne Wittekind dissected the meaning of the artworks produced under the patronage of this prelate. Patrick Henriet goes even further, with a subtle analysis of the parchment included in the centre of the table of Wibald’s portable altar and its Trisagion, Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus.55 Like all the altars in which holy bodies were secreted, the Stavelot portable altar was also a reliquary. By virtue of their size and their rich ornamentation, portable altars lent themselves particularly well to this link between altar and reliquary. Patrick Henriet suggests that at the heart of this contrivance there is an identification with the body of Christ. As is often the case, the structure of the Stavelot altar consists of a wooden core with a cavity designed to hold the relics. Under the altar is a cross encircled by an inscription executed with particular care in brown varnish: RELIQUIE SANCTORUM. A kind of symbolic axis therefore links the relics of the saints (we do not know which; the relics and their authentication labels have disappeared) to the Trisagion, the sign of Christ’s body. Moreover, the position of the parchment bearing the triple Sanctus, under a rock crystal cover, cannot fail to remind us of Eucharistic monstrances and reliquaries fitted with a window enabling the holy body or object to be seen, which appeared in the 13th century and became the rule by the end of the Middle Ages.56 These reliquaries were doubtless the first to include openings that made it possible to see the fragments of bodies offered for the devotion of Christians. Finally, specific sites or pieces of furniture, reliquary chapels, and treasuries were constructed. A typology of hagiography In 1971, Patrice Boussel († 1985) published his book Des reliques et de leur bon usage,57 with a cover illustrated by the cartoonist Topor, aiming to debunk all that is shocking in the mishmash of relics accumulated over the centuries, rather as Luther and Calvin had done, mutatis mutandis, in the Reformation. First, Christ and dominical relics: all those related to the person of Christ incarnate. To take an example from Turku in Finland, an authentication label for Christ’s sweat refers to the sweat of Christ on the Mount of Olives

Relics as historical objects

19

mentioned in the Gospel of St Luke (22:44). It is therefore both a dominical and an evangelical relic, if one wishes to establish a more precise typology and terminology. In the same spirit, we note the presence of a “handkerchief” of Christ at Clairvaux and at Mont-Saint-Michel. These, then, are relics brought back from the Holy Land, in the way we nowadays bring a drop of water back from the grotto at Lourdes or of oil from the tomb of St Nicholas in Bari. Among representative dominical relics, the most famous, after the Cross, is the Holy Shroud. The history of the Turin Shroud, which has several times been thought to be a closed issue, has been revived once again by Andrea Nicolotti:58 he has become its historian, following the noted research he has also conducted on the Image of Edessa (Mandylion).59 There is an objective difficulty in confronting pseudo-historical and pseudo-scientific propaganda;60 new research leads on the Shroud are particularly concerned with its encomiastic and propagandist function as a dynastic relic of the House of Savoy61 and its relationship to the Italian royal court.62 Other holy shrouds are attested, such as those in Besançon,63 Oviedo,64 and Cadouin.65 The representation of Christ’s face has a whole history behind it. The Edessa Image, an ‘acheiropoieta’ or portrait of Christ made “without hands”, is the origin of an iconographic type that was widespread from the sixth century. Transferred as a relic to Constantinople, in 944, it was known as the Mandylion and was associated with the shroud of which it was the face: they were regarded as forming one and the same relic. It is hardly necessary to mention that research on the Turin Shroud has continued, as have its ostentations, the last of which was in 2015. Its history is full of twists and turns: “Never, perhaps, has a relic constituted such an enigma”.66 For we are indeed speaking of relics. The Passion of Christ generated a whole series of relics – everyone knew the story from the Gospel – which served to give material expression to the sacred text, including many representative relics, since by the Ascension, Christ’s body had left the earth. Veils and cloths were image relics, which had retained the imprint of Christ’s face. The Mandylion, the prototype of every image of Christ, was supposedly given by Jesus to the envoy of King Abgar of Edessa; the Veronica or vera icon (“true image”) was thought to have been brought to Rome by the holy woman to cure the emperor.67 Jean-Claude Schmitt traced the core principles of relic images at the Boulogne colloquium,68 and Edina Bozoky those of relics and power. Other relics of Christ are His prepuce, His precious blood,69 and His letter sent from Heaven;70 here too, imagination produced representative relics. After Christ comes the Virgin, whose most important relics were collected together at Constantinople: her mantle (maphorion) and her girdle served to protect the city. A large number of Marian images played the same role as relics: miraculous icons with majestic sedes sapientiae (throne of wisdom) sculptures, sometimes filled with relics, both Marian (milk, hair of the Virgin, and all the mementos of her time on earth) and others. Eastern and Western sanctuaries vied with each other in the originality of those they

20

Philippe George

possessed. As for the casa sancta, the Virgin’s house, it was supposedly transported by angels from Nazareth to Loreto in Italy. The “major” saints have colloquia and publications devoted to them. Let me offer an updated bibliography of some of them: colloquia on St Nicholas in Bari and Lorraine;71 on St Martin, from Hungary to Tours;72 St Louis, the saint-king;73 St Michael, from Monte Sant’Angelo to Mont-Saint-Michel,74 and we should also recall here the pioneering study by my teacher, Dom Jacques Dubois, on the lost treasure of this famous sanctuary; St Agatha, with splendid publications in Catania;75 St Catherine.76 I need hardly say that Georges Kazan is passionately interested in John the Baptist.77 The cult of the Eleven Thousand Virgins and the Theban saints is an extraordinary phenomenon running right through the Middle Ages and continuing in the modern period. St James is also receiving a great deal of attention.78 Some years ago, Jacques Stiennon studied a journey from Liège to Santiago in 1056, and I have extended his research with the discovery of a tiny reliquary box of the period, found in an altar of the Benedictine Abbey in Liège dedicated to the Apostle of Galicia.79 Local saints, regional saints, international saints: we could imagine very useful exhibitions or publications region by region, such as those at Geneva and Turin.80 The quality of relics was important of course, but so was the quantity: one sometimes has the impression that the more saints there were, the better. Régimbert introduced a feast of relics at Echternach on 9 November. Here too it would be interesting to follow its development. A chronological typology The lion’s share of the cult of relics belongs to the Middle Ages. Nevertheless, it developed in Late Antiquity, survived into the modern era, even after the Council of Trent, and continues in contemporary times. These periods are therefore not to be overlooked and must be explored as well, all the more so since they very often illuminate the Middle Ages. The publication of ancient texts enables us to mark out the route leading to this observable crescendo of ‘reliquiophilia’: each sanctuary, each region, offers increasingly spectacular examples. Two general surveys have been published on Byzantium and on the Eastern Roman Empire,81 which had already been the object of a great deal of research; I am thinking particularly of the work of Jannic Durand. Relics were fragmented and dispersed; this fragmentation reinforced the phenomenon. The example came from Rome. From the eighth century, the great sedimentation of holy bodies began in the West: their multiple particles travelled. Authenticae or “authentic documents” are inscriptions on various materials (parchment, papyrus, paper, metal, stone, etc.) identifying the relic, mostly by the name of the saint, and/or authenticating it, and explicitly or implicitly authorizing its public veneration. The term is most commonly used to denote those very narrow strips of parchment (some of

Relics as historical objects

21

them 5 to 6 mm by about 10 cm), those labels, certificates, or captions, so tiny that they curl up and sometimes bear only the name of a saint. Authentication labels started to be written, around the end of the seventh century, according to the earliest examples so far discovered in the Lateran area of Rome, for a practical reason. At the end of the eighth century and the beginning of the ninth, the papacy, as a matter of “policy”, had numerous bodies lying outside the walls exhumed to move them inside the city, where they were then divided into fragments, which went to enrich the altars and treasuries of churches in regions of Christendom that lacked them. From the ninth century, there was a large influx of Frankish bishops and abbots to Rome, who procured precious remains, by purchase or theft, particularly in the catacombs, to take them to France or Germany. This systematic pillaging, as a result of which a great many false relics were put into circulation, continued uninterrupted until the 11th century and was actually encouraged by the evolution of liturgical practice, since it then became the custom in the West to insert relics into every altar on which the Eucharistic sacrifice was offered. Even the most modest village church therefore had to possess them, and this contributed to speeding up the process of dismembering and dispersal of holy bodies. From the Early Middle Ages, a considerable number of relics from the Holy Land, acquired in the Crusades to deliver Christ’s tomb, further served to intensify the phenomenon, not to mention the sack of Constantinople in 1204, which brought so many artworks and relics to the West. The great pilgrimage sites (Aix-la-Chapelle, Saint-Martin in Tours, Santiago, and so on) also provided real or representative relics. By the end of this process, around the year 1000, relics were present everywhere and occupied a central place in the religious life of the faithful, as is clearly shown by the writings of an author like Rodulfus Glaber. The Church could only rejoice in the fact, since the spread of relics had been a powerful instrument for Christianizing Western society. In particular, the cult of relics helped to propagate a very strong and concrete sense among the laity of the communion of saints, that is, of the mysterious communication between the living and the dead by virtue of which men and women here on earth could benefit from the merits of the saints in paradise, whose intercession could help them – and if not them, their loved ones and their dead – to face the difficulties of life or the perils of the hereafter. For the modern and contemporary periods, research centres particularly on the subject of politicization of relics, to judge from the colloquia organized in 2015 in Madrid and Poitiers under the direction of Albrecht Burkardt (Limoges) and Jérôme Grévy (Poitiers).82 The subject has gradually shifted here from the religious domain to the secular world, which has thus been able to create its own relics, involving processes of a transfer of sacredness. These objects may acquire a variety of political meanings and uses. The close relationship between civil and religious power was already evident in the Middle Ages and even during the Ancien Régime. At Limoges,

22

Philippe George

for instance, the keys of the city enclosed in the shrine of St Martial are a fine example.83 It is perhaps not anachronistic to point to politicians who still today, whatever their religious or philosophical proclivities, appear at important religious festivals in which relics retain all their symbolism. One thinks of the great Marches of Entre-Sambre-et Meuse in Wallonia, which continue to carry the relics of patron saints through the countryside and the town, at Gerpinnes, Walcourt, or Waulsort, or better still the Car d’Or at Mons, the gilded dray that conveys the shrine of St Waltrude (Waudru) to her collegiate church on Trinity Sunday. The most astonishing event of this kind is undoubtedly the procession of St Agatha in Catania, with all the mysteries it still holds, amid an immensely fervent flood of people. Historical anthropology has also set its sights on “modern relics”, from the critiques in Jean Calvin’s Treatise on Relics (1543) to the Dictionnaire critique des reliques et des images miraculeuses of Collin de Plancy (1794– 1881).84 Indeed, the Early Modern period falls between two episodes of massive and violent destruction of relics, the first linked to the Reformation and the second to the French Revolution. The creation of the Sacred Congregation of Rites in 1588 and the publication of new liturgical books of the Roman Rite – the Breviary, the Missal, the Martyrology, the Ritual, and so on – led to a demand throughout the Catholic world for investigation of local saints and the diocesan Proper, culminating in approval and often revival of the ancient cult. This multifaceted re-Catholicization revitalized local devotion and attachment to a sense of identity focused on relics, between tradition and continuity, in a period of great upheavals.85 Mass distribution of “holy bodies” extracted from the catacombs in Rome and their modern “invention”, from 1578 to the 19th century, is a fascinating laboratory for “total history”, as Pierre Toubert described it.86 Another possible facet of the cult of relics is the comparison of different religions. The exhibition in the Nieuwe Kerk in Amsterdam adopted this approach,87 as did the 2013 volume Pilgrims and Pilgrimages as Peacemakers in Christianity, Judaism and Islam.88 I am thinking particularly of the relationship with the Orthodox world, where saints’ bones have retained considerable importance, but from a more sociological perspective, the comparison could undoubtedly be extended to Islamic or Buddhist cults. And to take up the well-chosen title of Jean-Claude Schmitt’s book Les saints et les stars,89 quite a number of contemporary stars nowadays attract the kind of devotion formerly professed to saints. After all, on the death of her husband, Madame de Gaulle destroyed everything associated with the General’s private life for fear of a cult of relics. I mention this example merely to illustrate their widespread currency.

A method/methods The authenticity of relics is of no direct concern to historians.90 In other words, whether they are genuine or false, an often prominent and even

Relics as historical objects

23

over-sensationalized aspect of relics,91 is of course a fact to be taken into consideration, but it is not an essential or fundamental issue for the historian. Broadly speaking, I would even say that the more false relics are, the more interesting they are to us. The concept of falsehood in the Middle Ages, as diplomatic sources saw it, is applicable to the domain of relics. The medieval perception of historical truth was not the same as ours. On this issue, the Benedictine monk Guibert de Nogent is the true sage and his reflections in his treatise on relics are still pertinent today. Two such works are found in the Middle Ages: those of Guibert and Theofrid of Echternach. Around 1100, in his treatise De pignoribus sanctorum, Guibert was already denouncing certain abuses associated with devotion. Observing that no fewer than three heads of St John the Baptist were venerated in three different places in France in his time, he was led to wonder whether it would not be better to let the saints enjoy their eternal rest, which they richly deserved, moreover, rather than paying unwarranted honour to dubious objects. These critiques had no immediate impact on the faith of believers and clergy in the power of their relics, but they did give rise to a process of reflection which from the second half of the 12th century led the Roman Church, through hagiography and soon through canonization processes, to stress the example provided by saints in their lifetimes and their virtues rather than the beneficial influence emanating from their remains. In any case, as Guibert remarked, it does not matter if simple people pray to a false saint: God can see into their hearts. In his fascinating treatise Flores epytaphii sanctorum (literally “flowers scattered over the tombs of the saints”), divided into four books and written around 1100,92 the Abbot of Echternach, Thiofrid, sketched out a typology of relics, a sort of catalogue of their forms (their outward appearance): first, corporeal relics (Book I), including the tombs in which holy bodies rest (Book II), and representative relics, which he calls appendicia; he divides these into “positive appendices” (Book III), objects used by the saint in his lifetime, liquids of every kind, and so on, and “negative appendices”, instruments of martyrdom (Book IV). A relic is an object defined in relation to the senses: it is the substrate through which the divine power which works miracles is exercised. Thiofrid compares the manifestation of Christ in the Eucharist with that of the saints in their relics. This work and that of Guibert de Nogent are the only two medieval treatises devoted to the cult of relics and their reception was limited. Guibert regards corporeal relics of Christ as an “infinite absurdity” and relics of saints as useful but not necessary to health. If we bring a little order to the chronology of studies on relics, the various disciplines that have concerned themselves with this subject are immediately apparent. The facet addressed by Nicole Herrmann-Mascard († 2014) in her book Les reliques des saints: formation coutumière d’un droit is law.93 Rules

24

Philippe George

were gradually established with regard to relics: the formation of customs sometimes gave rise to written law for the purpose of recognizing them and encouraging or opposing the development of their cult. The author explains the complex and contradictory conciliar and synodal legislation in detail. One of the main stages to be noted in this process is the Carolingian regulations, which called a halt, so to speak, to the aberrations observed in the Merovingian period. The Fourth Lateran Council (1215) prohibited the sale of relics in its Canon 62, and reference was made to this for a long time afterwards; the Bishop of Angers recalled it in 1493. The Canon also prohibited displaying relics to the faithful outside reliquaries and non-authenticated relics. In addition, the Council of Trent dealt with the subject in its Session XXV in 1563. But what must be borne firmly in mind is that, as always, there was very often a wide gulf between theory and practice. In the Middle Ages, relics were brought out of their traditional context of preservation to intervene directly in legal proceedings and decide cases, in the manner of a judgement of God.94 The Miracula sancti Columbani, written by a monk of Bobbio in the mid-tenth century, is an account of translation of relics: the king’s justice was administered using a sort of ordeal centring on a historical relic, the cup of Columbanus. Let me underline a promising line of attack with an open question: “Are we to suppose that the mobilisation of saints in legal disputes remained the exception to the difference from what can be observed north of the Alps?”95 Finally, relics were also the object of proceedings.96 The theology of relics, that is, a systematic analysis of the writings of Church Fathers and medieval authors, and especially their reception in the different regions, has yet to be written. The theologian Arnold Angenendt has produced various general surveys.97 Historians, swimming against the theological tide, will unhesitatingly feel that relics are even more interesting when they are false, since then the reasons behind the deviations need to be explained. It is a fertile and difficult field, especially the relationship between theory and practice. Producing a theology of relics involves many important names and many stages. The theological legitimacy of the cult of relics was established by St Jerome († 420) and St Augustine († 430). Stéphane Boiron acutely analyzes the initial legal definition of relics in Roman religious law as res sacrae, that is to say, as material objects devoted to the service of divine worship, and then the distinction introduced by canon law from the 12th century, in a context of simony, as res spirituales. The inalienability of relics and the ban on selling them followed from this but were subject to compromises before the attacks of the Reformation.

Prospects Relics are a booming field of research.98 I have long argued for compiling databases on relics.99 Up to now, the project has seemed so ambitious that

Relics as historical objects

25

many have been deterred (myself in particular). Moreover, there is such an abundance of material that the particular slot must be carefully chosen; an interdisciplinary approach multiplies the work involved. Art For myself, as a museum curator, art history is obviously one of my prime concerns. How can one begin to investigate a reliquary without knowing the history of its relics? I have been inspired by Mosan art in particular, as this period, namely the 12th and 13th centuries, is the golden age of devotion to saints in the Meuse region,100 and I would add the Rhine as well after the celebrated Rhine-Meuse exhibition in Cologne and Brussels in 1972. History Written sources are the bread and butter of historians. Thus, relic authentications entered the historical field some 40 years ago. The University of Heidelberg, in its international conference Reliquienauthentiken: Kulturdenmmäler des Frühmittelalters (2017), has conducted a review of the “written sources that enable relics to be identified” in the Merovingian and Carolingian periods. For a long time now, following the fruitful path marked out by Dom Jacques Dubois for Mont Saint-Michel, I have been saying repeatedly that the first step is to publish inventories of treasuries. The late Bernhard Bischoff started work on a Mittelalterliche Schatzenverzeichnis. Relic types could also be a line of attack. I am thinking particularly of the book by Patrice Boussel cited earlier: an international inventory could be drawn up for each particular type.101 Literature Until recently, vernacular literary sources had been somewhat neglected by medievalists. The colloquium Saintuaire, organized by Sophie Albert and Hubert Heckmann at the University of Rouen and the Sorbonne (2012–15), led to the discovery of a whole series of relics and reliquaries in French texts of the 11th to 16th centuries, texts produced in the medieval period on relics and reliquaries, on the one hand, and the contribution of the humanities to capturing and understanding these developments, on the other. The history of the body, the image, and the object was addressed from literary, aesthetic, and poetic perspectives. Several common threads ran through all the contributions: how relics are related to space and time, to the dead body or the living body, to its materiality or its voice; the construction of a range of types of sanctity, more or less dependent on religious models; specific linguistic or stylistic parallels between relics and other referents; aesthetic and poetic analysis of texts whose principles, logical structures, and modes

26

Philippe George

of coherence highlight the substantial symbolic investment in which relics are at stake. Relics thus become literary objects in the light of humanities and social sciences.102 Anthropology and the exact sciences Science has long shown its interest in relics. First, anthropology: the person’s height, diseases suffered, anatomy, and reconstruction of the features of historical figures. The remarkable reconstruction of the bodies of St Benedict and St Scholastica must be mentioned here. In the 1980s, we attempted to apply this method to our Mosan saints. The substantial advances in the identification techniques used by the police and by medical science increase the possibilities considerably. DNA has entered our files. The leading treasuries of relics are based on whole bodies of saints. In 2016, the Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage in Brussels organized a workshop on the analytical study of relics, “Relics @ the Lab”, with the Oxford Relics Cluster, in which Georges Kazan took part.103 The domain of relics extends in many directions, and it is impossible to be competent in every area. An interdisciplinary approach is indispensable, as we have seen, but it is very difficult to organize, in both financial and human terms.104 Caution is also called for in opening reliquaries. Although enthusiasm is essential to research, it must be channelled scientifically, and we need to take time, care, and thought in preparing our files. But the administrative and bureaucratic emasculation imposed for no apparent reason by our contemporary societies on gaining access to certain artworks should be resisted as far as possible. Moreover, work on many files is in abeyance or has not even begun. Amid the prodigious number of publications with which we are routinely bombarded nowadays, we must take account of the earlier discoveries of our learned predecessors, which are too often ignored, and of unpublished material. Providing an overview is a necessary task, but precise mention should be made of existing knowledge, and the perspective, above all, should be to look forward to further study.

Notes * I have pleasure in dedicating this article to the Congregation of Daughters of the Cross, who entrusted the artworks from their convent in Liège to the Cathedral Treasury before leaving the city. The body of their foundress, Mother Marie-Thérèse Haze, beatified in 1992, was translated to Liège Cathedral on 29 April 2017. 1 In this preface to my book Reliques: Vauchez, “Préface”, 11. 2 Leipsana in Greek, from which the term lipsanotheca, a container designed to hold relics of a saint, is derived. 3 Dubois and Lemaître, Sources, 248. 4 I have been interested in relics since the 1980s and my investigations have expanded from the local to the regional, diocesan, national, and international level. There is no point here in reiterating my research, most of which has been

Relics as historical objects

5 6 7 8 9 10

11 12

13 14 15

16 17 18

19 20 21 22 23

24 25 26

27

published (orbi.ulg.ac.be); this study is intended as a summary of the current state of knowledge, with a few new leads. Since 2013, the literature has proliferated; see, for example, Bock, “Reliques”. Bozoky and Helvétius, Les reliques. I had the pleasure of participating in these two publications, which opened up broad perspectives. I produced three successive bibliographical articles on relics: George, “Les reliques des saints”. George, Reliques, to which the reader is referred in general from now on. Deuffic, Reliques. Brown, The Cult. Geary, Furta Sacra; Freeman, Holy Bones; Robinson, Finer; Barlett, Why Can. In a different vein, combining history, art, and the macabre, Koudounaris, Heavenly Bodies, examines the cult of the relics of martyrs from the catacombs discovered in Rome in 1578. Picard, “Le culte”, and Stalmans, Saints d’Irlande. Räsänen, Hartmann, and Richards, Relics, and my review in Le Moyen Âge, 122 (2017): 759–60. I would just like to cite the research of my colleagues Jussi-Pekka Taavitsainen and Aki Arponen on Finland, Christian Lovén and Bertil Nilsson on Sweden, Øystein Ekroll on Norway, and Lars Bisgaard, Kurt Villads Jensen, and Jens Vellev on Denmark. I took part in the colloquium on St Canute, King of Denmark († 1086) in Odense, in Denmark, in November 2017. Northern Brabant is the object of Arnoud-Jan Bijstervelde’s research: Accessed 11 November 2019. https://research.tilburguniversity.edu/en/persons/arnoudjan-bijsterveld/publications/ and Utrecht that of Kruijf, Miraculeus. Os, Kooij, Staal, and Tromp, De Weg naar. Burkart, Cordez, Mariaux, and Potin, Le trésor au Moyen Âge: questions, and Burkart, Cordez, Mariaux, and Potin, Le trésor au Moyen Âge: discours. My review in Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique 107, no. 1 (2012): 678–9. The “roving concept” of treasuries passes from one discipline to another, making it essential to adopt an interdisciplinary approach if one wishes to take a serious interest in the subject. Antoine-Kӧnig and Mariaux, Le Trésor, and Andenmatten, Ripart, and Mariaux, L’Abbaye. Cordez, Trésor, and my review in Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique 112, no. 3–4 (2017): 883–8. Hoernes and Röckelein, Gandersheim, and Röckelein, Reliquientranslationen. I am not addressing international relations here, as Charles Mériaux and Paul Bertrand do, for example, on Northern France and Magdebourg: Bertrand and Mériaux “Cambrai-Magdebourg”. Its bulletin, BUCEMA, was founded in 1999 and is now online: https://cem. revues.org/. Kracht and Torsy, Reliquiarium, and my review in Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique 99, no. 3–4 (2004): 819. The publisher Schnell und Steiner has become the specialist in editions of treasury catalogues. On the Treasury of Liège Cathedral, see George, “Le trésor des reliques”. For example his article, Sureda i Jubany, “Las reliquias”. Corpus edited by García de Castro, Signvm and García de Castro,“La Cruz”; García de Castro, “La Arqueta”; García de Castro, “Datos”. The moving and restoration of the Holy Ark of Oviedo has enabled him to carry out a remarkable review of the documents, recovering the inscription of the Ark, used as a reliquary and not as the altar of the Chapel of St Michael, and dating it to around 1090–1100. Fernández and Alonso, Las reliquias. Suárez, “The Cult”, and Suárez, “Locus Iacobi”. See George, Les Reliques de Stavelot-Malmedy, 54–6.

28

Philippe George

27 Reconstruction of the inscription of the Holy Ark by García de Castro, “Datos”, 149. 28 Ogier, Avoué of Thérouanne († 1412), wrote Le saint voyage de Jherusalem (see: Anglure, Le saint voyage): the journey was motivated by piety; mention is made of the absolutions and indulgences to be obtained. Pauphilet, Jeux, 381. 29 Grabar, Martyrium. 30 Sapin, Les cryptes, 44–110. An important chapter in this book discusses “the place of holy bodies and relics (sixth – ninth centuries)”. 31 Relics were also deposited in baptisteries (North Africa, Lyon?) and the custom of placing an altar there was maintained until the Carolingian period. 32 Amay celebrated the 40th anniversary of this discovery in 2017 with a one-day conference. Pending the possible publication of its proceedings, see Dierkens, Le sarcophage. 33 Chantinne and Mignot, “La collégiale”. 34 These include the proceedings of the colloquium: Sapin, Avant-nefs. 35 Alain Dierkens, Guy Lobrichon, Daniel Russo, Michèle Gaillard, Didier Méhu, and Anne Wagner, among others. 36 Heitz, Recherches, and Heitz, “Rôle”. 37 Paris, BN Ms 9428. 38 The Westwerk of Corvey (Corbeia Nova), built between 873 and 885, is the best surviving example of this architectural feature. The links between antechurches and the Easter liturgy – and thus the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem – are attested by Angilbert’s liturgical instructions. From the tenth century, the original version of the église-porche tended to fade out or to be associated with other monumental types, such as the western counter-apse (Mittelzell-Reichenau, Essen). 39 Héber-Suffrin and Wagner, “Autels”. 40 Well studied by Genicot, Les églises. 41 François Héber-Suffrin has returned to this question in Sapin and Guillon, Cryptes médiévales. 42 Treffort, L’Église. See the bibliography of Jean Pierre Caillet in his Mélanges: see Blondeau, Boissavit-Camus, Boucherat, and Volti, Ars Auro, and my contribution to these Mélanges with the significant title: George, “Architecturer”. 43 Caillet, “Reliques”, 182. 44 Iogna-Prat, La Maison, 109, 114; see my review: George, “La Maison”. 45 Paris, BN Latin 9428, fol. 87v, at the beginning of the collect of the Mass of St Paul. 46 Éric Palazzo has produced a remarkable study of the illustrations of the church dedication rite (tenth–12th centuries) and their “architectural framing” (Palazzo, L’évêque). 47 Leo IX conducted some 30 consecrations, primarily in Lotharingia; see IognaPrat, “Léon IX”. Papal consecration established a special link between Rome and the local Church, and Dominique Iogna-Prat establishes remarkable parallels between the pope’s peregrinations and Roman station liturgy and the chevauchée du roi (“king’s ride” or royal tour), which enabled the monarch to physically take the measure of his kingdom. 48 Even though Odon de Cluny († 942) and the author of the Miracles of St Bercharius considered that the altar should be reserved for God (HerrmannMascard, Les reliques, 173). Barbier, “Les images”. 49 Rauwel, Autour, and Jurković, The Altar. 50 Palazzo, L’espace rituel, and Budde, Altare. 51 Braun, Die Reliquiare. 52 Falk, “Bildnisreliquiare”. The reliquary of St John the Evangelist, known as the Effigy of Frederic Barbarossa, around 1155, preserved at Selm-Cappenberg,

Relics as historical objects

53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82

83 84 85

29

should also be cited; see Corbet, “Henri de Carinthie”: the Emperor’s head was turned into a reliquary. Belting, L’image. The notion of the image-object was first proposed in Bonne, “Représentation”, 566. See also Baschet, L’iconographie, 25–64. Henriet, “Relire”. On the art of crystal-carving, see Hahnloser, “Début”; Tixier, La monstrance. Boussel, Des Reliques. Nicolotti, I Templari; Nicolotti, Il processo; and especially Nicolotti, Sindone: storia. Recently Nicolotti, “Le Saint Suaire”. Nicolotti, Dal Mandylion; English translation: From the Mandylion. See my review in Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique 107, no. 1 (2012): 673–4. Prinzivalli, Campanella, Saggioro, Bella, and Nicolotti, “Forum”; Nicolotti, “La Sindone”. Nicolotti, “I Savoia”. Cozzo, Nicolotti, and Merlotti, The Shroud. Nicolotti, Le Saint Suaire de Besançon. See my review in Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique 111, no. 1 (2016): 385. Nicolotti, “El Sudario de Oviedo”. Fournié, “Une municipalité”. Fournié, “Dévotions”; Fournié, “Les miracles”; Fournié, “Le saint suaire”; Fournié, “Les suaires”. To quote Fage, “Saint Suaire”. Sansterre, “Variations”, 217–29. Schmitt, “Les reliques”, 147–9. Vauchez, “Du culte”. Delehaye, “Note”. Edessa prided itself on this “Letter of Christ” sent to King Abgar, which was also acquired by the Byzantines, in 944, as war booty. Cioffari and Laghezza, Alle origini; and Gazeau, Guyon, and Vincent, En Orient. I worked on the cult of this saint in the diocese of Liège for a paper in 2015: George, “Orval”. The proceedings of the latest colloquium on St Martin in Tours are in press. Accessed 11 November 2019. https://figmartinienne.sciencesconf.org/ and Diozesanmuseum, Hic est. See, for example, the catalogue of the exhibition in Angers: Vacquet, Saint Louis. Bouet, Otranto, and Vauchez, Culto e santuari, and Casiraghi and Sergi, Pellerinaggi. Tixier, Sant’Agata. Guyon, “Par la roue”. Kazan, “Arks”. See here 10th International Colloquium Compostela. “Relics, shrines and pilgrimages in the European historical context”, Santiago de Compostela 26–28 September 2016, and Denise Péricard-Méa’s site: www.saint-jacques.info/ George, “Le millénaire”. Aballéa and Elsig, L’image. Hahn and Klein, Saints, and Cronnier, Les inventions. Colloque: Reliques Politiques 1, Madrid, Casa Velázquez, 19–20 March 2015 at http://criham.labo.univ-poitiers.fr/colloque-reliques-politiques-1/ and Colloque: Reliques Politiques 2, Université de Poitiers, 11–12 June 2015 at http:// criham.labo.univ-poitiers.fr/colloque-reliques-politiques/. Accessed 12 October 2019. Andrault-Schmitt, Saint-Martial. Boutry, Fabre, and Julia, Reliques. Ducreux, Dévotion, illuminates the place of hagiography and the Breviary as matrices of a vernacular literature in Central Europe and suggests the plasticity

30

86 87 88 89 90

91

92 93

94 95 96 97 98 99 100

101 102 103 104

Philippe George of iconographic and rhetorical models that adapted themselves to a vast range of modern conceptions of the sacred, up to the eve of the Enlightenment. Baciocchi and Duhamelle, Reliques. Os, Kooij, Staal, and Tromp, The Way to Heaven. Pazos, Pilgrims. Schmitt, Les saints et les stars. The same goes for prayer, which is also a matter of faith; on the other hand, historians may take an interest in its function in society; see Henriet, “Invocatio”. This article also studies the relationship between “saints’ names” and relics. Ménager, “Doute”. I was not very enthusiastic about the publication of Strydonck, Ervynck, Dandenbruaene, and Boudin’s Relieken, whose very title serves to over-sensationalize the subject without sufficiently contextualizing it. The use of technical resources sometimes seems to me superfluous. Thiofridus, Flores. This work was presented in Ferrari, “Lemmata”. Herrmann-Mascard, Les reliques. What a drubbing it received from the critics! As a colleague wrote, it is the book everyone uses but no one cites. In any event, it is remarkable for the period in its comprehensive view of the subject, even though, of course, it errs here and there on details. Maquet, “Les reliques”. Dubreucq and Zironi, Miracula, 19. I refer readers to Bougard, “La relique au procès”. Angenendt, Heilige, and Angenendt, Die Gegenwart. We must draw our conclusions from the 53 Colloque de Fanjeaux, Corps saints et reliques dans le Midi, Fanjeaux, 3–6 July 2017, devoted to holy bodies and relics in the South of France. Guyard, “Les reliques”. I have coordinated four publications related to relics in the Liège Treasury in Feuillets de la Cathédrale de Liège series: George, De reliquiis, and in L’oeuvre de la Meuse volumes 1 and 2: George, Orfèvrerie mosane, and George, Orfèvrerie septentrionale, following the example of the remarkable L’Œuvre de Limoges project, launched by the late Marie-Madeleine Gauthier: Gauthier, Émaux méridionaux. To these should be added the beautiful and original little exhibition “Châsses. Du Moyen Âge à nos jours”, curated by Jean-Claude Ghislain at the Archéoforum (Liège) in 2013. Boussel, Des Reliques. I took part with a study of a 14th-century chronicler from Liège, Jean d’Outremeuse: George, “Jean d’Outremeuse”. Royal Institute, “Book”. Having engaged in large projects, like many others, I intend to withdraw in the coming years to my work of publishing written sources that make it possible to identify relics, with some as yet unpublished treasuries, and of course to the field of art history. One has to choose between the ephemeral and the perennial: exhibitions provide a flash of illumination, but too often it is a flash in the pan. I have agree to write the “Relics” article for the Dictionnaire d’Histoire et de Géographie ecclésiastiques, with Edina Bozoky.

Sources and bibliography Aballéa, S., and F. Elsig, eds. L’image des saints dans les Alpes occidentales à la fin du Moyen Âge: actes du colloque international tenu au Musée d’art et d’histoire de Genève (17–18 juin 2013). Roma: Viella, 2015. Andenmatten, B., L. Ripart, and P.-A. Mariaux, eds. L’Abbaye de Saint-Maurice d’Agaune 515–2015. Gollion: Infolio éditions, 2015.

Relics as historical objects

31

Andrault-Schmitt, C., dir. Saint-Martial de Limoges: ambition politique et production culturelle (Xe-XIIIe siècles). Limoges: Presses Universitaires de Limoges et du Limousin, 2006. Angenendt, A. Die Gegenwart von Heiligen und Reliquien. Ratisbonne: Aschendorff Verlag, 2010. Angenendt, A. Heilige und Reliquien: die Geschichte ihres Kultes von frühen Christentum bis zur Gegenwart. Munich: C.H. Beck, 1994. Anglure, Ogier d’. Le saint voyage de Jherusalem du seigneur d’Anglure, edited by F. Bonnardot, and A. Longnon. Paris: Librairie de Firmin Didot et Cie., 1878. Antoine-König, E., and P.-A. Mariaux, eds. Le Trésor de l’abbaye de Saint-Maurice d’Agaune. Paris: Louvre éditions and Somogy, 2014. Baciocchi, S., and C. Duhamelle, dirs. Reliques romaines: invention et circulation des corps saints des catacombes à l’époque moderne. Collection de l’École Française de Rome 519. Roma: École Française de Rome, 2016. Barbier, E. “Les images, les reliques et la face supérieure de l’autel avant le XIe siècle”. In Synthronon: Art et Archéologie de la fin de l’Antiquité et du Moyen Age, directed by A. Grabar, and J. Hubert, 199–207. Paris: Librairie C. Klincksieck, 1968. Barlett, R. Why Can the Dead Do Such Great Things? Saints and Worshippers from the Martyrs to the Reformation. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2013. Baschet, J. L’iconographie médiévale. Collection Folio Histoire 161. Paris: Gallimard, 2008. Belting, H. L’image et son public au Moyen Âge, translated by F. Israel. Paris: Gérard Monfort, 1998. Bertrand, P., and C. Mériaux. “Cambrai-Magdebourg: les reliques des saints et l’intégration de la Lotharingie dans le royaume de Germanie au milieu du Xe siècle”. In L’Occident sur ses marges (VIe-Xe siècles): formes et techniques de l’intégration, coordinated by G. Bührer-Thierry, and S. Lebecq, 85–96. Médiévales 51. Vincennes: Presses Universitaires de Vincennes, 2006. Accessed 12 June 2019. https://journals.openedition.org/medievales/1514. Blondeau, C., B. Boissavit-Camus, V. Boucherat, and P. Volti, eds. Ars Auro Gemmisque Prior: mélanges en hommage à Jean-Pierre Caillet. Zagreb: International Research Center for Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages of the University of Zagreb, 2013. Bock, N. “Reliques et reliquaires, entre matérialité et culture visuelle”. Perspective 2 (2010). Accessed 20 November 2019. http://journals.openedition.org/perspective/ 1147. Bonne, J.C. “Représentation médiévale et lieu sacré”. In Luoghi sacri et spazi della santità, edited by S. Boesch Gajano, and L. Scaraffia, 565–71. Torino: Rosenberg & Sellier, 1990. Bouet, P., G. Otranto, and A. Vauchez, eds. Culto e santuari di san Michele nell’Europa medievale Culte et sanctuaires de saint Michel dans l’Europe médiévale. Bibliotheca Michaelica 1. Bari: Edipuglia, 2007. Bougard, F. “La relique au procès: autour des miracles de saint Colomban”. In Le règlement des conflits au Moyen Âge: actes des congrès de la Société des historiens médiévistes de l’enseignement supérieur public, 31ᵉ congrès, Angers, 2000, 35–66. Histoire ancienne et médiévale 62. Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2001. Boussel, P. Des Reliques et de leur bon usage. Paris: Balland, 1971. Boutry, P., P.-A. Fabre, and D. Julia, dirs. Reliques modernes: cultes et usages chrétiens des corps saints des Réformes aux révolutions. En temps & lieux 7. Paris: Éditions de l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 2009.

32

Philippe George

Bozoky, E., and A.-M. Helvétius, eds. Les reliques: objets, cultes, symboles: actes du colloque international de l’Université du Littoral-Côte d’Opale (Boulogne-surMer), 4–6 septembre 1997. Hagiologia 1. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1999. Braun, J. Die Reliquiare des christlichen Kultes und ihre Entwicklung. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder & Co, 1940. Accessed 14 June 2019. https://digi.ub.uniheidelberg.de/diglit/braun1940. Brown, P. The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1981. Budde, M. Altare Portatile: Kompendium der Tragaltäre des Mittelalters 600–1600. Münster: Budde, 1998. Burkart, L., P. Cordez, P.A. Mariaux, and Y. Potin, eds. Le trésor au Moyen Âge: discours, pratiques et objets. Micrologus’ Library 32. Firenze: Sismel Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2010. Burkart, L., P. Cordez, P.A. Mariaux, and Y. Potin. Le trésor au Moyen Âge: questions et perspectives de recherche. L’atelier de Thesis 1. Neuchâtel: Institut d’Histoire de l’Art et de Muséologie de l’Université de Neuchâtel, 2005. Caillet, J.P. “Reliques et architecture religieuse aux époques carolingienne et romane”. In Les reliques: objets, cultes, symboles: actes du colloque international de l’Université du Littoral-Côte d’Opale (Boulogne-sur-Mer), 4–6 septembre 1997, edited by E. Bozoky, and A.-M. Helvétius, 169–97. Hagiologia 1. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1999. Casiraghi, G., and G. Sergi, eds. Pellerinaggi e santuari di San Michele nell’Occidente medievale = Pèlerinages et sanctuaires de saint Michel dans l’Occident medieval. Biblioteca Michaelica 5. Bari: Edipuglia, 2009. Chantinne, F., and P. Mignot. “La collégiale Sainte-Gertrude de Nivelles: réexamen du dossier archéologique”. Hortus Artium Medievalium 20, no. 2 (2014): 513–19. Cioffari, G., and A. Laghezza, eds. Alle origini dell’Europa: il culto di San Nicola tra Oriente e Occidente, Italia-Francia: atti del convegno Bari 2–4 dicembre 2010. Nicolaus. Studi Storici 22. Bari: Centro Studi Nicolaiani, 2011. Corbet, P. “Henri de Carinthie, évêque de Troyes (1145–1169): un cistercien entre France et Empire”. Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions & Belles-Lettres 157, no. 1 (2013): 469–88. Cordez, P. Trésor, mémoire, merveilles: les objets des églises au Moyen Âge. L’histoire et ses représentations 11. Paris: Éditions de l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 2016. Cozzo, P., A. Nicolotti, and A. Merlotti, eds. The Shroud at Court: History, Usages, Places and Images of a Dynastic Relic. Art and Material Culture in Medieval and Renaissance Europe 13. Leiden: Brill, 2019. Cronnier, E. Les inventions de reliques dans l’Empire romain d’Orient (IVe-VIe siècle). Hagiologia 11. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2015. Delehaye, H. “Note sur la légende de la lettre du Christ tombée du ciel”. Bulletin de l’Académie Royale de Belgique: classe des lettres et des sciences morales et politiques et de la classe des beaux-arts, 3ème serie, 37, no. 2 (1899): 171–213. Deuffic, J.-L., ed. Reliques et sainteté dans l’espace medieval. Pecia. Ressources en médiévistique 8–11. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2006. Dierkens, A., ed. Le sarcophage de Sancta Chrodoara: 20 ans après sa découverte exceptionnelle: actes du colloque international d’Amay, 30 août 1997. Bulletin du Cercle Archéologique Hesbaye-Condroz 25. Amay: Cercle Archéologique Hesbaye-Condroz, 2006.

Relics as historical objects

33

Diozesanmuseum Rottenburg. Hic est Martinus: der heilige Martin in Kunst und Musik. Participare! Publikationen des Diözesanmuseums Rottenburg 2. Rottenburg: Jan Thorbecke Verlag, 2016. Dubois, J., and J.L. Lemaître. Sources & méthodes de l’hagiographie médiévale. Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1993. Dubreucq, A., and A. Zironi, eds. Miracula sancti Columbani: la reliquia e il giudizio regi – la relique et le jugement royal – Relic and Royal Judgment. Per Verba 31. Firenze: Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2015. Ducreux, M.-E., dir. Dévotion et légitimation: patronages sacrés dans l’Europe des Habsbourg. Religions 8. Liège: Presses Universitaires de Liège, 2016. Fage, A. “Saint Suaire de Turin: linceul du Christ”. In Reliques et sainteté dans l’espace medieval, edited by J.-L. Deuffic, 629–34. Pecia. Ressources en médiévistique 8–11. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2006. Falk, B. “Bildnisreliquiare: zur Entstehung und Entwicklung der metallenen Kopf-, Büsten- und Halbfigurenreliquiare im Mittelalter”. Aachener Kunstblätter 59 (1991–1993): 99–238. Fernández Conde, F.J., and R. Alonso Álvarez, eds. Las reliquias de la catedral de Oviedo: panorama general desde una perspectiva crítica. Territorio, Sociedad y Poder 11–12. Oviedo: Universidad de Oviedo, 2016–2017. Accessed 13 July 2019. www.unioviedo.es/reunido/index.php/TSP/issue/view/907/showToc. Ferrari, M.C. “Lemmata sanctorum: Thiofrid d’Echternach et le discours sur les reliques au XIIe siècle”. Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale 38, no. 151 (1995): 215–25. Fournié, M. “Dévotions à Toulouse au XVe siècle autour du saint suaire de CadouinToulouse”. Annales du Midi 125, no. 282 (2013): 291–308. Fournié, M. “Les miracles du suaire de Cadouin-Toulouse et la folie de Charles VI”. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France 99, no. 1 (2013): 25–52. Fournié, M. “Une municipalité en quête de reliques: le saint suaire de Cadouin et son dépôt à Toulouse à la fin du Moyen Âge”. Mémoires de la Société Archéologique du Midi de la France 71 (2011): 127–62. Fournié, M. “Le saint suaire de Carcassonne au Moyen Âge”. Bulletin de la Société d’Études Scientifiques de l’Aude 110 (2010): 67–76. Fournié, M. “Les suaires méridionaux du Christ, des reliques ‘clémentines’? Éléments d’enquête”. In Église et État, Église ou État? Les clercs et la genèse de l’État moderne, directed by C. Barralis, J.-P. Boudet, F. Delivré, and J.-P. Genet, 417–32. Collection de l’École Française de Rome 485–10. Roma: École Française de Rome; Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2014. Freeman, C. Holy Bones, Holy Dust: How Relics Shaped the History of Medieval Europe. Yale: Yale University Press, 2011. García de Castro Valdés, C. “La Arqueta de las Ágatas de la Cámara Santa de la Catedral de Oviedo”. In VII Jornadas Complutenses de Arte medieval. “Splendor”: artes suntuarias en la Edad Media hispánica, 173–226. Anales de Historia del Arte 24. Madrid: Universidad Complutense de Madrid, 2014. García de Castro Valdés, C. “La Cruz de la Victoria de la Cámara Santa de la Catedral de Oviedo como ejemplo de la confección de relicarios en el reino de Asturias”. In Construir lo sagrado en el arte medieval: reliquia, espacio, imagen y rito, 27–56. Codex Aquilarensis 32. Aguilar de Campoo: Fundación Santa María la Real, Centro de Estudios del Románico, 2016.

34

Philippe George

García de Castro Valdés, C. “Datos y observaciones sobre el Arca Santa de la Cámara Santa de la catedral de Oviedo”. Nailos. Estudios Interdisciplinares de Arqueología 3 (2016): 121–63. García de Castro Valdés, C. Signvm salvtis: cruces de orfebrería de los siglos V al XII. Oviedo: Principado de Asturias, KRK Ediciones, 2008. Gauthier, M.-M. Émaux méridionaux: catalogue international de l’œuvre de Limoges. Vol. 1: L’Époque romane. Paris: Éditions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1987. Gazeau, V., C. Guyon, and C. Vincent, dirs. En Orient et en Occident, le culte de saint Nicolas en Europe (Xe-XXIe siècle): actes du colloque de Lunéville et SaintNicolas-de-Port, 5–7 décembre 2013. Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 2015. Geary, P.J. Furta Sacra: Thefts of Relics in the Central Middle Ages. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978. Genicot, L.-F. Les églises mosanes du XIe siècle. Livre 1: arquitecture et societé. Recueil de travaux d’histoire et de philologie 4e série 48. Louvain: Publications Universitaires de Louvain, 1972. George, P. “Architecturer et organiser le grand dessein de Dieu: à propos de quelques édifices-reliquaires du pays mosan (IXe-XIIe siècle)”. In Ars Auro Gemmisque Prior: melanges en hommage a Jean-Pierre Caillet, edited by C. Blondeau, B. BoissavitCamus, V. Boucherat, and P. Volti, 251–8. Zagreb: International Research Center for Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages of the University of Zagreb, 2013. George, P., ed. De reliquiis: à propos de reliques et de reliquaires de saints. Feuillets de la Cathédrale de Liège 102–112. Liége: Trésor de la Cathédrale de Liège, 2010. George, P. “Jean d’Outremeuse, polygraphe liégeois († 1400) et les reliques”. Folia Electrónica Classica 33 (2017): 1–27. Accessed 13 November 2019. http://bcs.fltr. ucl.ac.be/FE/33/Reliques.pdf. George, P. “La Maison-Dieu lotharingienne: à propos d’un ouvrage recent”. Revue Belge d’Archéologie et d’Histoire de l’Art 76 (2007): 161–5. George, P. “Le millénaire liturgique de l’abbatiale bénédictine de Saint-Jacques de Liège”. Trésor de Liège 43 (2015): 7–9. Accessed 13 November 2019. www.tresor deliege.be/publication/pdf/043.pdf. George, P., coord. Orfèvrerie mosane XIIe et XIIIe siècles: l’oeuvre de la Meuse. Liège: Archéoforum, Trésor de la Cathédrale de Liège, Institut du Patrimoine Wallon, 2014. George, P., coord. Orfèvrerie septentrionale XIIe et XIIIe siècles: l’oeuvre de la Meuse. Liege: Archéoforum, Trésor de la Cathédrale de Liège, Institut du Patrimoine Wallon, 2016. George, P. “Orval et le pays de Liège: Liens Orval – Huy au milieu du XIIIe siècle”. Paper presented at Colloque-Aurea Vallis: archives et manuscrits des origines à la fin de l’Ancien Régime, Villers-devant-Orval, 12 September 2015. Accessed 13 November 2019. https://rmblf.be/2015/08/11/colloque-aurea-vallis-archives-et-manuscritsdes-origines-a-la-fin-de-lancien-regime/. George, P. Les Reliques de Stavelot-Malmedy: nouveaux documents. Malmedy: Art et histoire, 1989. George, P. “Les reliques des saints: publications récentes & perspectives nouvelles”. Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire 80, no. 2 (2002): 563–91. George, P. “Les reliques des saints: publications récentes & perspectives nouvelles (II)”. Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire 82, no. 4 (2004): 1041–56. George, P. “Les reliques des saints: publications récentes & perspectives nouvelles (III)”. Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire 85, no. 3–4 (2007): 859–80.

Relics as historical objects

35

George, P. Reliques: le quatrième pouvoir. Nice: Les Éditions Romaines, 2013. George, P. “Le trésor des reliques de la cathédrale Saint-Lambert de Liège”. Bulletin de l’Institut Archéologique Liégeois 117 (2013): 63–141. Accessed 13 November 2019. http://hdl.handle.net/2268/149335. Grabar, A. Martyrium: recherches sur le culte des reliques et l’art chrétien antique. Paris: Collège de France, 1946. Guyard, N. “Les reliques, l’ordinateur et la carte”. Des reliques et des villes: une histoire des objets sacrés. Accessed 13 November 2019. https://reliques.hypotheses. org/150. Guyon, C. “Par la roue de sainte Catherine: dévots, pèlerins et pèlerinage à sainte Catherine d’Alexandrie (VIIIe-XVIe siècle)”. Habilitation diss., University of Lorraine, 2015. Hahn, C., and H.A. Klein, eds. Saints and Sacred Matter: The Cult of Relics in Byzantium and Beyond. Washington: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 2015. Hahnloser, H.R. “Début de l’art des cristalliers aux pays mosans et rhénans”. Les monuments historiques de la France 12, no. 1–2 (1966): 19–23. Héber-Suffrin, F., and A. Wagner. “Autels, reliques et structuration de l’espace monastique: l’exemple de Saint-Riquier”. In Le Programme, une notion pertinente en histoire de l’art medieval?, edited by J.M. Guillouët, and C. Rabel, 27–56. Les Cahiers du Léopard d’Or 12. Paris: Les éditions du Léopard d’Or, 2011. Heitz, C. Recherches sur les rapports entre architecture et liturgie à l’époque carolingienne. Paris: F. Paillart, 1963. Heitz, C. “Rôle de l’église-porche dans la formation des façades occidentales de nos églises romanes”. In La façade romane: actes du Colloque international organisé par le Centre d’Etudes Supérieures de Civilisation Médiévale. Poitiers, 26–29 septembre 1990, 329–34. Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale 34. Poitiers: Université de Poitiers, 1991. Henriet, P. “Invocatio sanctificatorum nominum: efficacité de la prière et société chrétienne (IXe-XIIe siècle)”. In La prière en latin de l’Antiquité au XVIe siècle: formes, évolutions, significations, edited by J.-F. Cottier, 229–44. Collection d’Études Médiévales de Nice 6. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2006. Henriet, P. “Relire l’autel portatif de Stavelot”. In Orfèvrerie septentrionale XIIe et XIIIe siècles: l’oeuvre de la Meuse, coordinated by P. George, 179–208. Liege: Archéoforum, Trésor de la Cathédrale de Liège, Institut du Patrimoine Wallon, 2016. Herrmann-Mascard, N. Les reliques des saints: formation coutumière d’un droit. Collection d’Histoire Institutionnelle et Sociale 6. Paris: Klincksieck, 1975. Hoernes, M., and H. Röckelein. Gandersheim und Essen: vergleichende Untersuchungen zu sächsischen Frauenstiften. Essener Forschungen zum Frauenstift 4. Essen: Klartext Verlag, 2006. Iogna-Prat, D. “Léon IX, pape consécrateur”. In Léon IX et son temps: actes du colloque international organisé par l’Institut d’Histoire Médiévale de l’Université Marc-Bloch, Strasbourg-Eguisheim, 20–22 juin 2002, edited by G. Bischoff, and B.-M. Tock, 355–83. Atelier de Recherche sur les Textes Médiévaux 8. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2006. Iogna-Prat, D. La Maison Dieu: une histoire monumentale de l’Église au Moyen Âge (v. 800-v. 1200). Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 2006. Jurković, M., ed. The Altar from the 4th to the 15th Century. Hortus Artium Medievalium 11. Zagreb: International Research Center for Late Antiquity and Middle Ages of the University of Zagreb, 2005.

36

Philippe George

Kazan, G. “Arks of Constantinople, the New Jerusalem: The Origins of the Byzantine Sarcophagus Reliquary”. Byzantion 85 (2015): 77–125. Accessed 11 November 2019. http://poj.peeters-leuven.be/content.php?url=article&id=3117799. Koudounaris, P. Heavenly Bodies: Cult Treasures & Spectacular Saints from the Catacombs. London: Thames & Hudson, 2013. Kracht, H.-J., and J. Torsy. Reliquiarium Coloniense. Studien zur Kölner Kirchengeschichte 34. Siegburg: Franz Schmitt Verlag, 2003. Kruijf, A.C. de. Miraculeus bewaard: middeleeuwse Utrechtse relieken op reis, de schat van de oud-katholieke Gertrudiskathedraal. Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 2011. Maquet, J. “Les reliques et la justice au Moyen Âge: l’exemple du Triumphus Sancti Remacli Stabulensis de Malmundariensi coenobio (peu après 1071)”. In De reliquiis: à propos de reliques et de reliquaires de saints, edited by P. George, 81–6. Feuillets de la Cathédrale de Liège 102–112. Liège: Trésor de la Cathédrale de Liège, 2010. Ménager, C.“Doute sur les reliques et enquête d’authentification: l’exemple d’Hélène”. Questes 23 (2012): 22–31. Accessed 18 November 2019. https://journals.open edition.org/questes/917. Nicolotti, A. Dal Mandylion di Edessa alla Sindone di Torino: metamorfosi di una leggenda. Collana di Studi del Centro di Scienze Religiose 3. Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 2011. Nicolotti, A. From the Mandylion of Edessa to the Shroud of Turin: The Metamorphosis and Manipulation of a Legend. Leiden: Brill, 2014. Nicolotti, A. Il processo negato: un inedito parere della Santa Sede sull’autenticità della Sindone. La corte dei papi 27. Roma: Viella, 2015. Nicolotti, A. Le Saint Suaire de Besançon et le chevalier Othon de la Roche. Vy-lèsFilain: Éditions Franche-Bourgogne, 2015. Nicolotti, A. “Le Saint Suaire de Turin en Belgique . . . à Liège?”. Bulletin du Trésor de la Cathédrale de Liège 47 (2016): 13–18. Nicolotti, A. “I Savoia e la Sindone di Cristo: aspetti politici e propagandistici”. In Cristo e il potere: teologia, antropologia e politica, edited by L. Andreani, and A. Paravicini Bagliani, 247–81. MediEVI 18. Firenze: Sismel Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2017. Nicolotti, A. “La Sindone, banco di prova per esegesi, storia, scienza e teologia: considerazioni a margine di alcune recenti pubblicazioni”. Annali di storia dell’esegesi 33, no. 2 (2016): 459–510. Nicolotti, A. Sindone: storia e leggende di una reliquia controversa. Einaudi Storia 59. Torino: Giulio Einaudi, 2015. Nicolotti, A. “El Sudario de Oviedo: historia antigua y moderna. The Shroud of Oviedo: ancient and modern history”. In Las reliquias de la catedral de Oviedo: panorama general desde una perspectiva crítica, edited by F.J. Fernández Conde, and R. Alonso Álvarez, 89–111. Territorio, Sociedad y Poder 11–12. Oviedo: Universidad de Oviedo, 2016–2017. Accessed 13 July 2019. www.unioviedo.es/ reunido/index.php/TSP/issue/view/907/showToc. Nicolotti, A. I Templari e la Sindone: storia di un falso. Aculei 3. Roma: Salerno Editrice, 2011. Os, H. van, K.R. van Kooij, C. Staal, and T. Tromp. The Way to Heaven: Relic Veneration in the Middle Ages. Baarn: De Prom, 2000. Os, H. van, K.R. van Kooij, C. Staal, and T. Tromp. De Weg naar de Hemel: reliekverering in de Middeleeuwen. Baarn: De Prom, 2000.

Relics as historical objects

37

Palazzo, E. L’espace rituel et le sacré dans le christianisme: la liturgie et l’autel portatif dans l’Antiquité et au Moyen Âge. Culture et societé medievales 15. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2008. Palazzo, E. L’évêque et son image: l’illustration du pontifical au Moyen Âge. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1999. Pauphilet, A., ed. Jeux et Sapience du Moyen Age. Bibliothèque de la Pléiade 61. Paris: Gallimard, 1943. Pazos, A.M., ed. Pilgrims and Pilgrimages as Peacemakers in Christianity, Judaism and Islam. Farnham: Ashgate, 2014. Picard, J.-M. “Le culte des reliques en Irlande (VIIe-IXe siècles)”. In Les reliques: objets, cultes, symboles: actes du colloque international de l’Université du LittoralCôte d’Opale (Boulogn-sur-Mer), 4–6 septembre 1997, edited by E. Bozoky, and A.-M. Helvétius, 39–55. Hagiologia 1. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1999. Prinzivalli, E., L. Campanella, A. Saggioro, M. Bella, and A. Nicolotti. “Forum Sindone, storia e (pseudo)scienza: un dialogo possibile?”. Studi e materiali di Storia delle Religioni 82, no. 2 (2016): 1071–94. Räsänen, M., G. Hartmann, and E.J. Richards, eds. Relics, Identity, and Memory in Medieval Europe. Europa Sacra 21. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2016. Rauwel, A., ed. Autour de l’autel chrétien médiéval. Bulletin du centre d’études médiévales d’Auxerre, Hors–série 4. Auxerre: Centre d’études médiévales SaintGermain, 2011. Robinson, J. Finer Than Gold: Saints and Their Relics in the Middle Ages. London: British Museum Press, 2011. Röckelein, H. Reliquientranslationen nach Sachsen im 9. Jahrhundert: über Kommunikation, Mobilität und Öffentlichkeit im Frühmittelalter. Beihefte der Francia 48. Stuttgart: Thorbecke, 2002. Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage. “Book of Abstracts”. Relics @ the Lab: International Workshop. Brussels, 27–28 October 2016. Accessed 18 November 2019. www.academia.edu/29663961/Relics_at_the_Lab_book_of_abstracts. Sansterre, J.-M. “Variations d’une légende et genèse d’un culte entre la Jérusalem des origines, Rome et l’Occident: quelques jalons de l’histoire de Véronique et de la Veronica jusqu’à la fin du XIIIe siècle”. In Passages: déplacements des hommes, circulation des textes et identités dans l’Occident médiéval: actes du colloque de Bordeaux (2–3 février 2007), edited by J. Ducos, and P. Henriet, 217–31. Toulouse: FRAMESPA-UMR 5136, 2013. Sapin, C., dir. Avant-nefs et espaces d’accueil dans l’Église entre le IVe et le XIIe siècle: colloque du CNRS Avant-nefs et espaces d’accueil dans l’Église, Auxerre, 17–20 juin 1999. Mémoires de la Section d’Archéologie et d’Histoire de l’Art 13. Paris: Éditions du Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, 2002. Sapin, C. Les cryptes en France: pour une approche archéologique IVe-XIIe siècle. Paris: Éditions Picard, 2014. Sapin, C., and P. Gillon. Cryptes médiévales et culte des saints en Île-de-France et en Picardie. Lille: Presses Universitaires du Septentrion, 2019. Schmitt, J.-C. “Les reliques et les images”. In Les reliques: objets, cultes, symboles: actes du colloque international de l’Université du Littoral-Côte d’Opale (Boulognesur-Mer), 4–6 septembre 1997, edited by E. Bozoky, and A.-M. Helvétius, 145–67. Hagiologia 1. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1999. Schmitt, J.-C., ed. Les saints et les stars: le texte hagiographique dans la culture populaire. Bibliothèque Beauchesne 10. Paris: Beauchesne, 1983.

38

Philippe George

Stalmans, N. Saints d’Irlande: analyse critique des sources hagiographiques (VIIe-IXe siècles). Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2003. Strydonck, M. van, A. Ervynck, M. Dandenbruaene, and M. Boudin. Relieken: echt of vals? Leuven: Davidsfonds, 2006. Suárez Otero, J. “The Cult of St. James at Compostela: From Antiquity to the Middle Ages. A Short Essay Dedicated to John Williams”. Boletín Auriense 44 (2014): 165–82. Suárez Otero, J. “Locus Iacobi: orígenes de un santuario de peregrinación”. PhD diss., University of Santiago de Compostela, 2015. Sureda i Jubany, M. “Las reliquias del altar: colección de lipsanotecas del Museu Episcopal de Vic”. In De reliquiis: à propos de reliques et de reliquaires de saints, edited by P. George, 47–62. Feuillets de la Cathédrale de Liège 102–112. Liège: Trésor de la Cathédrale de Liège, 2010. Thiofridus Epternacensis. Flores epytaphii sanctorum, edited by M.C. Ferrari. Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis 133. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1996. Tixier, F. La monstrance eucharistique: genèse, typologie et fonctions d’un objet d’orfèvrerie XIIIe-XVIe siècle. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2014. Tixier, F., dir. Sant’Agata: il reliquiario a busto. Nuovi contributi interdisciplinari. Catania: Edizioni Arcidiocesi Catania, 2014. Treffort, C. L’Église carolingienne et la mort: christianisme, rites funéraires et pratiques commemoratives. Lyon: Presses Universitaires de Lyon, 1996. Vacquet, E., ed. Saint Louis et l’Anjou. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2014. Vauchez, A.“Du culte des reliques à celui du Précieux Sang”. Tabularia. Les “Précieux Sangs”: reliques et dévotions. Accessed 16 November 2019. https://journals. openedition.org/tabularia/432. Vauchez, A. “Préface”. In Reliques: le quatrième pouvoir, edited by P. George, 11–22. Nice: Les Éditions Romaines, 2013.

Part 1

The relics of St James in Europe

2

Relics and pilgrimages of St James the Greater in France Adeline Rucquoi

Relations between the sanctuary of St James of Compostela and France date back to the first decades after the discovery of the apostolic tomb. However, before addressing this subject, I would like to make it clear that I am going to discuss “France” as it exists today; if I were to confine myself to the territories gradually dominated by the king of Île-de-France, this study would doubtless be more accurate from a historical point of view, but it would be extremely brief. I therefore propose to include Flanders and the county of Toulouse, as well as Provence and Brittany, under the term “France”. In the second half of the ninth century, some 20 or 30 years after the apostle’s sepulchre was discovered at Compostela, various authors of martyrologies, notably Ado of Vienne, followed by Usuard of Saint-Germain-desPrés, point out that 25 July was the feast of St James, son of Zebedee and brother of John (the Evangelist), martyred under Herod, and that his “very holy bones” rested at the finis terrae of Spain.1 While the story of the return of Bishop Geylo of Langres from Compostela in 841 and his theft of the body of Prudentius is certainly apocryphal,2 at the beginning of the next century, the canons of St Martin of Tours, writing to Alfonso III of Oviedo to offer him a crown, enquired about the apostolic tomb. In the answer he sent in 906, the king commented on the many miracles recorded at the sanctuary and its distance from the ocean.3 By this time, “Franks”, such as a certain Bretenaldus, had already settled in Compostela, and in the middle of the century, Bishop Godescalc of Le Puy left a record of the pilgrimage he made with a large entourage.4 Shortly afterwards, the excommunicated bishop of Reims, Hugh of Vermandois, travelled to Compostela, and around the year 1000, the chroniclers recall that Duke William of Aquitaine used to visit St James in Galicia in the years when he did not make his annual journey to Rome.5 Between the end of the 11th century and the beginning of the 12th, the episcopal or cathedral school of Compostela produced a series of texts which were later collected, between 1140 and 1160, in the Codex Calixtinus. France is again in the spotlight, both in Book IV, the Historia Turpini, which recounts Charlemagne’s campaigns in Spain to “deliver the tomb of St James”, and in Book V, which establishes a terrestrial itinerary for pilgrims

42 Adeline Rucquoi and locates its origins in four major sanctuaries in France: St Martin of Tours, the Madeleine of Vézelay, Our Lady of Le Puy, and Saint-Gilles-duGard.6 As early as the first half of the 12th century, the documents refer to the route from Puente la Reina to Compostela as the “Frankish way” (iter francigenum). In the Historia Turpini, Charlemagne is both a pilgrim and a crusader to Compostela. A century earlier, a certain Benedict, a monk from St Andrew of Mount Soratte, north of Rome, had already presented him as a pilgrim to Jerusalem who had acquired precious relics on passing through Byzantium on his return.7 Close study reveals that the Fifth Book of the Codex Calixtinus, which recalls the itinerary and evokes the high points of Charlemagne’s epic history, is not a “guide” for pilgrims but a symbolic text intended to attract pilgrims to the terrestrial route; the four sanctuaries marking the points of departure are of course the four cardinal points from which pilgrims leave for Compostela, ways which become a single path in Spain from east to west as far as the finis terrae, which is also finis vitae.8 Nevertheless, St James, the Apostle of Galicia, remained associated with France, and even more so from the canonization of Charlemagne in 1165, since the emperor was to become the founder of the French dynasty in the 13th century, and the Historia Turpini found its place amongst the Great Chronicles of France.9 Louis VII (1137–80) made the pilgrimage to Compostela; Louis IX (1226–70), like his mother, Blanche of Castile, wanted to do so; Charles V (1364–80) assumed the patronage of the Chapel of the Holy Saviour in the Compostelan cathedral in 1372, and Louis XI (1461–83), whose mother, Marie of Anjou, went to Santiago, had many presents sent there.10 The texts collected in the Codex Calixtinus in the mid-12th century are at the origin of an unprecedented expansion of devotion to the Apostle James, son of Zebedee and brother of John the Evangelist. Such devotion is attested only from the discovery of the tomb in Galicia around the year 830 onward and the spread of this news through the Epistola Leonis (Pope Leo’s Epistle) in the middle of the century.11 Churches, chapels, and altars dedicated to the son of Zebedee, allegedly possessing relics of the saint, appeared in France over the course of the tenth and 11th centuries and multiplied from the 12th century onward. In Elne, seat of the mater omnium ecclesiarum Rossilionensium et Confluentium, a document from April 938, reveals the presence of a church dedicated to St James.12 In Paris, a church in his honour was erected at the end of the 11th century on the right bank of the Seine, at the exit of the Pont au Change; its founder donated it to the Cluniac monastery of Saint-Martin-des-Champs, which owned it in 1119, as attested by the confirmation of the properties of the monastery given by Pope Calixtus II on 17 November that year.13 In Aix-en-Provence, Archbishop Pierre Gaufridi restored his see in 1092 and granted it, among other properties, the church of St James in Lignane, as well as donating the church of St James in Esparron to the monastery of St Victor

Relics of St James in France

43

in Marseille in 1093.14 Around 1103, the Monastery of Saint-Honorat in the Lérins islands received the church of St James of Beldisnar Castle (now Baudinard-sur-Verdon) from Bishop Augier of Riez.15 In Melgueil (now Mauguio, near Montpellier), a church of St James, affiliated to Saint-Ruf d’Avignon, is attested before 1116.16 The founding of churches, chapels, altars, and hospitals dedicated to the Apostle of Galicia continued thereafter. There are at least 20 in the ecclesiastical province of Bourges, 30 in the dioceses and archdioceses of Provence, 15 in the ecclesiastical province of Tours, which included Brittany, about ten in Rouen,17 and further north there were churches of St James in Metz, Verdun, Châlons-en-Champagne, Vitry-le-François, Abbeville, Amiens, and many other places. If it is true that these altars, chapels, and churches had to possess a relic of the saint whose invocation they bore, these could be contact relics. Thus, the Dictionnaire critique des reliques et des images miraculeuses, published by Jacques A. S. Collin de Plancy in 1821, made fun of the Apostle’s various bodies: This great Apostle has a fourth body in Verona; this body was found on Mount Grigiano. He has a fifth body in Toulouse, a sixth in Rome in the Church of the Holy Apostles, a seventh in Pistoia, where he is so revered that he is called the first of the Apostles in public prayers. There is yet an eighth head of St James in Venice, a ninth in the Abbey of Saint-Vaast in Arras [. . .], a seventeenth arm in the Abbey of Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire, an eighteenth in Amiens and many other relics in Paris, Troyes, Bologna, etc.18 The inventories of the treasuries of churches in France reveal here and there the presence of relics of the Apostle but rarely indicate their provenance. There is nothing similar to those carefully preserved in the Abbey of St James in Liège, a monastery founded around 1020 under the invocation of St James the Less, whose monks went to Compostela in 1056 to obtain relics. The delegation from Liège arrived in Compostela on 3 April, went to pray in “the sanctuary where the precious bones of the holy Apostle rest”, and asked King García of Galicia for relics of the Apostle. On Easter Day, after mass and the singing of a sequence, the king, against the advice of Bishop Cresconius, donated an important (haut ineximia) relic of the Apostle’s body to these “illustrious pilgrims from the court of the Emperor of the Romans” as well as one of St Bartholomew and others of St Sebastian and St Pancratius. On 13 May, the relics solemnly arrived in Liège.19 In 1114, a canon of Compostela reportedly brought new relics to Liège, and as early as the 13th century, an arm of St James was documented in the abbey’s treasure.20 Nor is there anything in France comparable to the relic of St James’s hand brought to England in 1125 by the Empress Matilda and donated to Reading Abbey.21 Above all, none of the relics in France ever gave rise to any specific veneration, nor to any pilgrimage whatsoever.

44 Adeline Rucquoi However, three places in France claimed possession of important relics of the Apostle in the Middle Ages: Arras (Flanders), in the Abbey of SaintVaast, Toulouse, in the Basilica of Saint-Sernin and the church of St James, and Angers, in the church of Saint-Maurille (St Maurilius).

The head of St James in Saint-Vaast and Aire-sur-la-Lys The oldest claim to an important relic of the Apostle James in the north of present-day France dates back to the 12th century. The text that mentions it was written shortly after an account of the translation of the relics of Oviedo and of a miracle of St James in favour of a possessed woman who had taken the road to Compostela and whom the Apostle delivered from the devil in Oviedo Cathedral, an account preserved in the Abbey of the Holy Sepulchre in Cambrai and at Saint-Ghislain near Mons.22 There were close relations between Flanders and northwestern Spain at that time, culminating in the marriage of the Count of Flanders and Teresa of Portugal in 1185. The Benedictine abbey of Saint-Vaast was founded near Arras in 667. Endowed with a new church consecrated in 1030, possessing a beautiful library and an active scriptorium,23 it had been largely destroyed by a fire in 1136. Many conflicts had arisen between the abbey and the bishop of Arras during the first half of the 12th century.24 Abbot Martin (1155–84) restored it and commissioned the monk Guimann to draw up the cartulary. This was executed in around 1180–90, and mentions, in the second book, the presence of the body of St Vaast (Vedast, † 540) in the treasury of the abbey church, together with relics of two Holy Innocents and 12 Apostles; it then refers to the caput beati Jacobi apostoli fratris sancti Joannis, the head of St Nicaise (Nicasius), Bishop of Reims, the head of St Leodegaire (Leodegar), Bishop of Autun, the bodies of St Radulphe and St Hadulphe, and many other Christic and Marian relics and those of various other saints.25 Immediately after the inventory of the items kept in the treasury, a few pages are devoted to the history of the head of St James, that desideratum atque desiderabilem thesaurum in which the monks were to rejoice (Gaudeamus in Domino, fratres charissimi). These pages were undoubtedly the work of Guimann’s brother, Lambert, and were presumably interpolated in around 1193–4.26 After recalling the vocation of St James and his brother John, their familiarity with the Lord and the martyrdom of James by order of Herod, the text adds, quoting the martyrologists, that “his very holy bones were transferred from Jerusalem to Spain and buried in the ultimate confines of the latter, where they are the object of great veneration”. The author then evokes the munificence of the Frankish kings towards the abbey – by the Treaty of Arras of 1191 the city had passed under the dominion of the king of France – and recounts the story according to which Abbot Léduin or Luthduin (1020–40) had stolen the apostolic relic in order to give it to the monastery of Berclau, which he had founded in 1025.

Relics of St James in France

45

One hundred and forty years later, around 1165, Abbot Martin and his brothers from Saint-Vaast went to Berclau with the bishop of Arras to obtain the restitution of the Apostle’s head. After many adventures and a revolt by the inhabitants of the place, the abbot, who had appealed to the Count of Flanders, almost succeeded in taking the relic to Arras. However, the Count of Flanders, Philip of Alsace, then demanded the head of St James for himself – Caput illud meum est, et in mea terra inventum, meo erit arbitrio disponendum – and he confiscated it from the monks in May 1166 in order to install it in the collegiate church of Saint-Pierre in Aire-sur-la-Lys. Abbot Martin of Saint-Vaast appealed to the pope and the archbishop of Reims, but it was not until 1173, either shortly before or after his journey to Compostela, that Count Philip capitulated, although he still kept part of the relic in Aire.27 The account of the relic’s adventures continues by pointing out that the Count then made a pilgrimage to Compostela and inquired about the presence in Galicia of the head of St James; he was told that the head preserved in a silver reliquary was not that “of the same James, brother of John, but that of James the Less”, because “it had formerly been transported to Flanders”, which greatly pleased the Count.28 The Saint-Vaast text indicates that the Count had reserved only a modicam partem of the relic for himself; it also gives, after the story of the relic, a list of the miracles it had performed at the abbey, detailing four of them: the healing of a paralytic, that of a canon of Notre-Dame of Arras, the appearance of intense light and frosts on the day of the translation of the relic, and the dream of a mother who saw in advance “the monastery of Saint-Vaast entirely decorated with its banners, with the lord abbot seated on a high seat showing the population a column of extraordinary splendour which he held in his hands”.29 Whether it had actually belonged to Saint-Vaast before 1025 or this was merely an artifice to endow a prestigious relic that the abbey coveted with antiquity, it seems that the head of St James, once installed in Arras, engendered pilgrimage. Abbot Martin instituted a feast day on 3 January to commemorate the date on which the relic was recovered and wrote a letter stating that the head of St James had been given to the abbey by Charles the Bald, together with the bodies of two of the Holy Innocents and the relics of the 12 Apostles.30 On 20 April 1175, the legate of Alexander III, Peter of Pavia, placed the Apostle’s skull in a new reliquary in the presence of Bishop Frumaud.31 This reliquary was carefully preserved. It was still listed in the inventory of the revestiaire (sacristy) of the abbey of 2 March 1416 as one of the most outstanding of the relics.32 And the inventory of the abbey church’s treasury, of 24 April 1544, drawn up by order of the prior in the absence of the abbot, offers a description of it: A reliquary of gilded silver wherein lies the head of the lord St James with two angels and a gilded base which supports the said reliquary, on the reverse of which there is an image of St James with a golden staff.

46 Adeline Rucquoi The treasury also possessed at the time “a book containing the legends of St Vaast and St James”. In 1550, the treasury’s inventory mentions a repair of the reliquary by a goldsmith, and in 1562, the purchase of a new ornament for the procession.33 In May 1602, Abbot Peter declared that he had given a fragment of the head of St James, kept in the treasury of Saint-Vaast, to St Martin’s abbey in Tournai.34 In 1675, the Ritual of Saint Vaast reveals that the feast of the Apostle was still celebrated: Relation S. Jacobi, one of the feasts called duplicia in capis. In 1858, the reliquary was opened, revealing the following parts: the frontal bone minus the brow bones, the two parietals, the occipital bone, most of the temporal bones, most of the sphenoid bone. The head is that of a man still young, and quite different from that of St Nicaise, martyred in an old age.35 Four years after the relic was exhibited, the bishop of Arras donated a small part of the head to the church of St James in Douai;36 this relic, recovered in 2012, was solemnly reinstalled in the church. Among the plays performed in the city of Arras in the 13th century, the Jeu du Pèlerin was used as an introduction to the Jeu de Robin et Marion, both attributed to Adam de la Halle, known as Adam of Arras.37 Around 1467–70, a master glassmaker was commissioned to lay “glass pedestals” over the choir, in particular “where O is the image of St James and colour around the aforesaid image at 6 c. per pedestal”, while the painter Gillot Barbet received 6 sous for drawing an image of St James on paper.38 Although the head of St James was well preserved and honoured in SaintVaast, the abbey archives do not mention any procession or pilgrimage specific to Arras in honour of the Apostle. The reliquary was probably brought out at the same time as the others, either for the feast of St Vaast or that of Mary Magdalene or during rogations. In the Annales he wrote between 1475 and 1502, the monk Gérard Robert mentions innumerable processions and ostentations of reliquaries, but only refers to the presence of the head of St James in March 1476 and June 1493; the bodies of St Vaast, St Arnulphe, and St Radulphe and the head of St Nicaise were undoubtedly the object of much greater devotion.39 In Aire-sur-la-Lys, on the other hand, the relic, so aggressively acquired by Philip of Alsace, does not seem to have aroused the same interest at the beginning of the 13th century. The collegiate church of Saint-Pierre was founded there by Count Baudoin V of Flanders († 1067), as recalled in a diploma of Philip I of France dated 1075, and consecrated in 1166.40 In 1272, a century after the conflict and the division of the relic, Guiard des Moulins, canon of Aire-sur-la-Lys, wrote the story of the Apostle’s head solemnly “discovered” at Aire for the pilgrims who visited his abbey. He repeated, with some modifications, the account found in Saint-Vaast by a fellow cleric of his collegiate church, but specified that Count Philip had divided the relic into two equivalent parts and that the collegiate church of

Relics of St James in France

47

Aire-sur-la-Lys possessed the face, the vultus of the Apostle, Saint-Vaast having only the occiput.41 The name of the Apostle appears for the first time in an act of the chapter dated “the year of grace one thousand two hundred and ninety-five on the feast of St James and St Christopher”.42 It was not until 1318 that the relic was installed in a new reliquary, as described in 1475: The head of the lord St James the Greater in a fine silver vessel weighing approximately 60 marcs, on a base with images around it on which there are four angels, each with two wings and a gilt and jewelled diadem, enamelled behind in the centre with a small silver chain in front, and the whole is supported on four silver leopards bearing the inscription Beati Jacobi majoris, fratris beati Joannis Evangelistae, cognatique germani domini nostri Jesu Christi.43 An offce for St James is listed in a Ritual of the church of Saint-Pierre in Aire in the 15th century, and processions are still documented in the following century, when a chapel of St James was built and decorated in 1594 with 15 murals depicting the history of the relic and the miracles attributed to it in Aire.44 The history of the Arras relic dates back to the second half of the 12th century, when the monks of Saint-Vaast abbey became aware of the “theft” of the precious relic 140 years earlier by Abbot Léduin of Berclau. This period is characterized by the spread of legends about the preaching and translation of St James, the popularity of the pilgrimage to Compostela, and Charlemagne’s association with the tomb of the Apostle, which he “discovered” or “delivered”, according to the Historia Turpini. Chapter V of Book IV of the Codex Calixtinus, compiled in around 1140–60, attributes to the Emperor the foundation of churches dedicated to St James in Aachen, Béziers, Toulouse, and Paris, and a basilica “in Gascony, between the city commonly called Aix [Dax] and Saint-Jean de Sorde on the way to Santiago”.45 Two of the paintings in Aire-sur-la-Lys represent Charlemagne receiving the head of St James in Compostela and then offering it to the abbey of Saint-Vaast. It is difficult not to see a link between the sudden interest of the monks of SaintVaast in the head of St James in 1165 and the spreading of Codex Calixtinus texts which accompanied the canonization of Emperor Charlemagne in Cologne on 29 December 1165 (that is, at the end of 1164, according to the modern calendar). As for the claim of the authenticity of the relic, it must be related to the gift from Queen Urraca of Castile to Archbishop Diego Gelmírez, in 1116, of the caput beati Iacobi, allegedly stolen from Jerusalem by Bishop Maurice of Coimbra; gradually, the skull brought back from the Holy Land was attributed in Compostela to St James the Less.46

The body and head of St James in Toulouse Thus, the church of St James in Toulouse, in the south of France, could trace its origins back to the Emperor on his return from Compostela, since it was attested by the Historia Turpini; an act of Charles the Bald, copied in a

48 Adeline Rucquoi charter of Louis VII of France, actually gives the date of 844 for the foundation of the churches of St Stephen and St James. As for the collegiate church of Saint-Sernin in the same city, it also claimed to date back to the gloriosissimus rex Karolus Magnus, according to the text of a charter of 1154, by which Louis VII, rediens a S. Jacobo et per Tolosani transiens, confirmed the privileges granted to Saint-Sernin by its founder, the Emperor Charlemagne; at the same time, this document of 1154 mentions the churches of St Stephen, located outside the city like Saint-Sernin, and of St Mary infra muros.47 By that time, the Fifth Book of the Codex Calixtinus had already spread the idea that one of the routes to Compostela was bound to pass through Toulouse. In the church of St James, which was closely dependent on the Cathedral of St Stephen, separated from it only by the cloister of the latter,48 the “invention” of apostolic relics took place as late as 1491. The record attesting to this begins by recalling Charlemagne’s exploits against the Saracens, and then states that after his victories, he made the journey and pilgrimage to Galicia; coming into this city in the year of our salvation eight hundred and fifteen, he ordered the erection of the church of St James, and as a devout pilgrim he carried there many relics and the head of this venerable saint.49 The inquiry then deals with the pillar in the church, on the right, near the altar dedicated to St Quiteria, and whether “the said St Charles the Great secretly ordered that the head of the lord St James the Apostle or part of it be put and hidden under the said pillar in many and separate parts”; and furthermore, whether, on the marble stone at the top of the pillar, he had had “the fgure of the head of the lord St James painted, and above it he also had a scallop shell painted with a machoaire (a molar?) on either side of the said shell”, and whether ex-votos around the pillar bore witness to the belief and devotion to the Apostle in this place; and moreover whether a knight coming from Lombardy or Italy in great company “expressed his faith by documents and legitimate and authentic acts that in the said pillar is the genuine head of the lord St James the Great or at least some part of it”.50 The text of the survey, which includes a copy of a record of the knight’s visit, before 1428 (the date of the death of the witness) and perhaps around 1371, ends with an account of the discovery of the relics and the miracles that followed. Relying on oral tradition, it seems that a cult had already been practised before the discovery of the relics, and at the end of the 15th century, witnesses testified that they had seen pilgrims “dressed in the manner of pilgrims of St James, who went to visit the church in honour of St James”. As soon as the discovery was revealed, miracles occurred, and an inquiry in 1547 reported 31 miracles, mostly therapeutic, in favour of 30 people. The relics found in 1491 at the foot of the pillar in St James’s church apparently consisted of a jaw bone, a bone from the front of a head, a canine, a molar,

Relics of St James in France

49

a piece of rib, a bone of a hand or foot, a half-bone of a finger, and a broken glass vial. The “golden legend” created around the discovery aroused local devotion, unrelated to Compostela.51 The abbey church of Saint-Sernin, situated in the borough of the same name, also owed its wealth to the Emperor Charlemagne, as indicated in a note added to an 11th-century original by a hand writing a century later (cujus ecclesie Charolus Magnus multa donaria dedit).52 But it was only in the second half of the 14th century that the church announced that it possessed the entire bodies of six Apostles, St James the Greater, St Simon and St Jude, St Philip and St James the Less, and St Barnabas, as well as the head of St Bartholomew;53 indeed, a Confraternity of the Holy Bodies, attached to the basilica, is attested in the 1380s.54 Whilst relics of St James were supposedly attested in the church as early as 1354,55 the most important moment in their history at Saint-Sernin is undoubtedly that of their translation in October 1385, in the presence of Jean, Duke of Berry (1340–1416), brother of the king of France Charles V the Wise.56 The record of the ceremony, as it appears in the accounts of the Confraternity of the Holy Bodies, states that the duke wanted to be present when the head and body of the Apostle were transferred to the new reliquary ordered by the Brothers. In the church, the duke allegedly had the head of St James removed from its old reliquary for kissing and gave money and precious stones to complete the new shrine. On 15 October the duke carried the ancient casket to the high altar, where he was awaited by the Archbishop of Toulouse, who put the Apostle’s head and bones into a cypress box inside the silver shrine, before closing the whole with a key.57 The reliquary of St James was a large (1.56 m × 0.67 m) silver-gilt casket in the shape of a church surmounted by a bell tower, surrounded by 22 silver statuettes arranged under arches; on the front face, in the centre, St James was depicted as a pilgrim with his staff, surrounded by small figures, including three pilgrims, and on the roof, the four evangelists were surrounded by shells. The arms of the Duke of Berry were engraved on the base.58 But the Apostle was also honoured with a splendid silver reliquary-bust, also made in 1385; the bust rested on a griffin, under whose legs was a reliquary containing a tooth and a piece of the Apostle’s finger.59 The reliquary and the shrine were repaired and maintained throughout the 15th and early 16th centuries.60 Tradition has it that the body of the Apostle James, as well as most of the relics preserved in the Toulouse abbey, had been brought by the Emperor Charlemagne from Spain, and indeed Louis XI recalled in June 1463 that the bodies of the six Apostles had been given by Charlemagne to the abbey he had founded.61 Pilgrims who passed through Toulouse in the second half of the 15th century were offered a visit to the Holy Bodies, which Jehan de Tournai scrupulously noted when he visited in 1488: In the said church beside the choir, on the right-hand side at the top of a small stone staircase, is the body of St George the Martyr in a casket.

50 Adeline Rucquoi We then descend five steps, and just at that point there is a very splendid chapel [. . .]. From there we descend five more steps, where there is a very beautiful chapel and several beautiful altars where the following blessed Apostles lie: first the body of St James the Greater in a silver shrine; in another shrine, the bodies of St Simon and St Jude; in another shrine the bodies of St Philip and St James the Less [. . .].62 A text from 1509 explains that the relics and shrines kept in the crypts were usually exhibited at the end of the canonical offce, when the sound of the bell called the romieus et pelerins estranger to gather and go down together to visit the holy bodies; the text also states that this ritual was observed, among other places, at sant Jacmes de Compostelle en Galicia, Saint-Antoine [en-Viennois], the Madeleine [Vézelay], the Three Maries [Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer], the Holy Shroud, and other romieratges.63 The relics were also carried in procession at Pentecost, with the relics of St James immediately following those of St Saturnin (Sernin) himself. As well as Jehan de Tournai and Arnold von Harff ten years later, other pilgrims had serious doubts when they arrived in Compostela after passing through Saint-Sernin. The inability of the canons of Santiago to present the body of the Apostle to pilgrims diminished the reputation of the Galician sanctuary at the end of the 15th century. In 1557, Félix Patter from Basel, visiting Toulouse, referred to the fact that Compostela pilgrims were there to see the body of the Apostle, of whom only the head was in Galicia.64 From the beginning of the 16th century, however, belief in the presence of the body and head of the Apostle in Toulouse seems to have declined sharply.

Two more bodies of St James: Angers and Échirolles Other cities in France also boasted of owning the body of the son of Zebedee. One of these was Angers, where the collegiate church of Saint-Maurille, destroyed in 1791, also prided itself on possessing the entire body of the Galician apostle. At the beginning of the 16th century, the inhabitants of Angers were reportedly convinced that the two tombs under the old oratory were those of St Maurilius (Maurille), bishop of the city, and St James the Greater. The relics of St James would have remained in the crypt, while those of St Maurilius would have been taken out, “because this saint bishop, as a planet further away from the proximity of the infinite, did not want to dazzle its lights in the vicinity of this great sun”.65 The accounts of the chapel, dating from the late 15th and early 16th centuries, reveal the existence of a pilgrimage from which the Angers chapter received income, and a miracle proved the presence of the Apostle’s body when a workman, by order of the chapter, tried to open the tomb and was struck blind by the first blow of the hammer. The chronicler Jacques Bruneau of Tartifume (1574–1636), who mentions this miracle, adds that, in the chapel,

Relics of St James in France

51

the pilgrims returning from Galicia bring their staffs, offer their vows, make their prayers, celebrate Mass, and some of them tell us that the Spaniards, making fun of their pious journeys, criticised them for the fact that they do not need to cross the harsh Pyrenees from so far away to see what they own at home, what they have in their own lands.66 Although we cannot date the origin of this belief, the fact is that at the beginning of the Early Modern era Angers was added to the list of places possessing important relics of the Apostle of Galicia.67 In Échirolles, in the diocese of Grenoble, the chapel of St James in Échirolles, destroyed in the 19th century, was established in a former Templar commandery. It was said to have possessed relics of St James, whose entire body was supposedly buried in front of the main door of the chapel under his patronage. An annual procession is attested there as early as the 14th century, and the city councillors of Grenoble went there every 25 July in procession, barefoot, and deposited an offering of walnuts to protect themselves against the damage that the River Drac could cause to their city. According to Aurélia Bully, Bishop Aymon de Chissé accompanied the councillors during the annual procession in Échirolles in 1407. In the 15th century, the parish priest of Échirolles, Aimon de Chalancon, was said to have placed railings around the venerated tomb as well as planks to cover it. During a visit by Bishop Laurent Ier Allemand in July 1488, the body was described as “of uncommon size, lying on the earth with a terracotta jar between its thighs”. The bishop affirmed that it was not the body of the Apostle, but the veneration continued, with a statue of St James, built in 1500, taking over the function of the relic. The procession of the Grenoble councillors is attested until 1721.68 In short, claims to possess the skull or the entire body of the Apostle James in France were made after the second half of the 12th century, and on the basis of the Historia Turpini, they made Charlemagne not only the discoverer of the tomb but also the one who had brought the precious relics back to France.

Undefined relics of St James In Paris, the Hôpital Saint-Jacques-aux-Pèlerins was built between 1319 and 1323 by the confraternity of the same name, which had already existed for more than two decades; this hospice was said to have accommodated more than 16,690 pilgrims in 1368.69 In 1326, Jeanne of Évreux, wife of Charles IV the Fair, donated a bone from the arm of St James to the confraternity and its hospice; it was kept in a reliquary described in an inventory of 1666.70 The confraternity then received another relic of St James in 1392, originating from those preserved in the Basilica of Saint-Sernin in Toulouse and obtained 12 years earlier by the King’s counsellor Philippe Giffart: “A small

52 Adeline Rucquoi bone of the breast of the blessed Apostle the lord St James, by letters of the lord Abbot of St Cerny on this matter”.71 A year earlier, in 1391, the confraternity had added to its treasury a “tooth and part of the rib of St James of Toulouse”, the gift of a stonecutter.72 Also in Paris, the Sainte-Chapelle, which had various parts of the head of St James the Less in its treasury, does not seem to have possessed relics of the Galician Apostle in the 13th and 14th centuries, although a chapel was dedicated to him there, mentioned in the inventory of 1341. Not until July 1480, when another inventory was drawn up, was a “small ivory chest containing relics of the Apostle St James the Greater, with authentic letters written on parchment and sealed with two pendant seals” found in the “lower treasury of the said Holy Chapel”.73 The reliquary was still in the treasury in 1536, when a new inventory was made, whose authors specified that “the said relics are on a small cushion of red taffeta, with a sign reading ‘SANCTI JACOBI APOSTOLI MAJORIS’, and below, ‘PRO REGE’”.74 The relic was perhaps sent to Louis XI when, in 1447, while he was still the dauphin, he donated a precious silver object to Santiago de Compostela, perhaps a censer, estimated at 1,000 ducats, or when he offered the sanctuary the 12 lamps described by Antoine de Lalaing in 1502; another possibility is that it had been brought back to him by his mother, Marie of Anjou, who made a pilgrimage to Compostela in January 1463, or by her sister, Yolande, who was said to have been a pilgrim to Santiago in 1427.75 The Abbey of Saint-Denis, not far from Paris, also possessed relics of St James, notably in a “rich panel of gilded silver seated on a pedestal supported by four lions”, which was reportedly donated by Philip II Augustus and in which there were many relics, including one “from the shoulder of St James”. The abbey also kept relics of several saints, including St James, in a “very beautiful silver shrine of medium size, modelled on the church of Notre-Dame of Paris”, which had also been granted by Louis XI.76 According to the inventory drawn up in 1741 by Abbot Charles Lalore, the Abbey of Clairvaux also owned relics of St James scattered in various panels, one of which would have been part of the Tabula Apostolorum given to the abbey by Count Philip I of Flanders († 1191).77 No relics of the Apostle James the Greater are mentioned in the collections of the church of Auxerre in 1531.78 Nor do any appear in the inventory of precious items of Saint-Martin in Tours, compiled in 1493 and published by Nicolas Gervaise after the looting of the treasury by Huguenots in April 1562.79 And although Eudes of Sully, Bishop of Paris, made a rich donation of relics to Bourges Cathedral at the end of the 12th century, including relics of St James the Less, no relics of the son of Zebedee were to be found in the treasury. Only in the inventory of 1537 is there mention of a cypress casket “in which are enshrined reliquaries containing bones of the lord Apostles St James and St Philip”.80 On the other hand, Laon Cathedral, which recorded possession of many reliquaries in 1525, seems to have kept various relics of a St James the

Relics of St James in France

53

“Apostle” and a St James the “Martyr”, of the “beard and hair of the Apostles John and James”, and of “St James the Greater and St James, son of Alphaeus, the Less”; these few relics, whose origin and nature are unknown, were mixed with many others in reliquaries, shrines or silk pouches, but the church also had a special reliquary for those of “St Mary [Salome], mother of Saints John the Evangelist and James the Greater”.81 In the diocese of Angers, the church of St James in Grez-Neuville had apparently owned a relic of the body of the Apostle since 1122, when Nicolas de Neuville authorized his vassal, Raoul de Grez, to build a chapel dedicated to St James near his house, on the left bank of the River Mayenne. In 1125, he gave this chapel to the monks of Saint-Serge in Angers, who turned it into a priory.82 The inventory of Sens Cathedral, published in 1897 by Eugène Chartraire, focuses only on describing precious items, such as “relic pouches”, and does not give an exact inventory of their contents, even though the church traced the origin of its treasury back to Charlemagne.83 On the other hand, the list drawn up in 1293 by the treasurer of the Abbey of Saint-Pierre-le-Vif in Sens mentions, among other things, a capsa apostolorum with relics of all the apostles, including de sanctis Jacobo et Johanno fratribus.84 We have no information on the relics of the Apostle that would have led Guillaume, lord of Montfort in Brittany, to establish an abbey under this invocation in Montfort-la-Canne, in the diocese of Saint-Malo, in May 1152.85 In the south of France, in Catllar in the former diocese of Elne, the chapel of Saint-Jacques de Calahons claimed to have possessed a reliquary containing a relic of the Apostle since 1225.86 In Charmensac, in the diocese of Saint-Flour, is the church of Saint-Jacques-du-Bru, which seems to have been founded in 1389 by Jacques de Mercoeur and his wife and which owned a reliquary with a relic of the saint.87 The Abbey of Saint-Pierre de Moissac also apparently possessed a relic of the body of the Apostle.88

Devotion to the relics Among other reliquaries and sacred items Charles V the Wise kept in the oratory of his small chapel in the Louvre was “a [.  .  .] golden image of St James, all in gold, without pearls, weighing one marc seventeen esterlins of gold”.89 When the king’s brother, Louis I, Duke of Anjou (1339–84), future king of Naples, drew up an inventory of the very many jewels he possessed “in Angers and elsewhere, in France and Languedoc”, the scribes charged with the task divided the precious items into specific categories and indicated their weight. In the chapter concerning the “images” belonging to Louis, there is an image of St James in gilded silver, on a base on which is written with enamelled letters: Ceste ymage de saint Jaques porte un os de lui mesmes; and in his left hand he carries a small round reliquary of crystal

54 Adeline Rucquoi embellished with gilded silver, and in his right hand he holds his staff and he has his hat on his head. And it weighs VIII marcs V ounces XII deniers.90 Jean, Duke of Berry, brother of Charles V and Louis of Anjou, also collected relics and was presumably given those of St James by the abbot of SaintSernin in Toulouse in 1385, on the occasion of the solemn translation of the Apostle’s body at Saint-Sernin. In fact, in the inventories of his possessions drawn up in 1401–2, in addition to a richly decorated “golden image of St James holding a book in one hand and a staff in the other”, encrusted with precious stones, as well as a “small wooden statue of St James”, Jean possessed various relics of the son of Zebedee, which he gave to the bishop of Luçon, the church of Bourges and Notre-Dame of Boulogne.91 Notre-Dame of Boulogne had already received a relic of St James in 1389, offered by the duke on the occasion of his marriage to Jeanne of Boulogne, and 20 years later, the duke’s “keeper of the jewels”, in turn, received one of these precious relics. In 1405, the Sainte-Chapelle in Bourges, which the duke had had built, proudly displayed the “great head of St James”, weighing 87 marcs and six ounces, as well as a monstrance with a bone of St James. Nevertheless, the inventory of relics drawn up in 1537 focuses mainly on the description of the goldsmith’s artefacts and does not mention the relic of the saint of Galicia.92 In conclusion, the presence of relics of St James in the present-day territory of France is related to the spread of pilgrimage from the 11th century onward and to the particular devotion of certain prominent figures. The appearance of important relics, such as the Apostle’s skull or his whole body, occurs later – towards the end of the 12th century – because they are linked to the popular story of the pilgrimage or crusade of Charlemagne to Compostela in the Codex Calixtinus, with which Charles the Bald and Count Philip of Flanders were associated. However, the pilgrimages prompted by the presence of these relics were local, as in the cases of Arras, Aire-sur-la-Lys, Angers and Échirolles, or of extremely limited duration, as in Toulouse, and never supplanted that of Compostela, nor the pilgrimages to other local saints and centres of devotion, such as Saint-Nicaise in Arras or Saint-Sernin in Toulouse.

Notes 1 2 3 4

Usuardus, “Martyrologium”. Teobaudus, “Acta, translationes et miracula”, quoted by Geary, Furta Sacra, 154. López, Historia, vol. 2, App. 57–60. Tumbos, 137–9: “In Compostella, corte que fuit de Bretenaldo franco cum suis ortalibus”; Jacomet, “Gotescalc”, and Díaz, Libros, 279–81. 5 Vázquez de Parga, Lacarra, and Uría, Las peregrinaciones, 44–5; Ademarus, “Historiarum”: “Dux vero Aquitanorum, comes Pictavinus, jam dictus Willelmus gloriosissimus et potentissimus [. . .] a juventute consuetudo fuit, ut semper omni anno ad limina apostolorum Romam properaret, et eo quo Romam non properabat anno, ad Sanctum Jacobum Galliciae reconpensaret iter devotum”.

Relics of St James in France 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

29 30 31 32 33

34

55

Liber Sancti Jacobi. Benedicti, “Chronicon”, 708–11. Rucquoi, “Le ‘chemin français’”. Rucquoi, “Charlemagne”. Paris, Archives de l’Assistance Publique – Hôpitaux de Paris, Fonds Hôpital Saint-Jacques-aux-Pèlerins. Chartrier. Liasse 6, no. 43 (1372); Jacomet, “Notes sur les pèlerinages”, 21–56. Díaz, “La Epistola Leonis”. Lacvivier, “Inventaire sommaire”, 321. Calixtus II, “Epistolæ et Privilegia”: “In suburbio Parisiacae urbis, ecclesiam Sancti Jacobi cum parochia”; Recueil de chartes, 245–50. Albanés, Gallia christiana, Instrumenta Ecclesiae Aquensis, cols. 3–5; Cartulaire, Guérard, 337–8. Cartulaire, Moris and Blanc, 223. Jacomet, “Toulouse et Compostelle”. Pouillés, Prou, Perrin, and Font-Réaulx, 808; Pouillés, Prou and Clouzot, 502–3; Pouillés [Rouen], Longnon, 535; Pouillés [Tours], Longnon, 535. Collin, Dictionnaire critique, 6: “Ce grand apôtre a un quatrième corps à Vérone; ce corps fut trouvé sur le mont Grigiano. Il a un cinquième corps à Toulouse, un sixième à Rome dans l’église des Saints-Apôtres, un septième à Pistoie où l’on a une si grande vénération pour lui que l’on l’appelle le premier des apôtres dans les prières publiques. On a encore une huitième tête de saint Jacques à Venise, une neuvième à l’abbaye Saint-Waast d’Arras [. . .], un dix-septième bras à l’abbaye de Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire, un dix-huitième à Amiens et beaucoup d’autres reliques à Paris, à Troyes, à Bologne, etc.”. Aegidii, “Gesta Episcoporum”, 82–6 and Stiennon, “Le voyage”. George, Reliques, 107–8. See Yarrow’s chapter in this book. Rucquoi, “Un milagro”. Arras, Bibliothèque Municipale, MS 112: Saint-Vaast owned, among its books, a Passio sanctorum Apostolorum of the 11th century, which included the passio of Saint James, just after those of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. Cardevacque and Terninck, L’Abbaye de Saint-Vaast, 124–35. Guimann, Cartulaire, 105–10. Gerzaguet, “Tempête”. Guimann, Cartulaire, 112–27. Ibid., 140: “Facta inquisitione, quoddam argenteum ei allatum est, in quo a quibusdam esse dicebatur caput (a quibusdam), non ipsius Jacobi fratris Johannis, sed Jacobi minoris ibi repositum ferebatur. Verum cum comes illud sibi aperire summopere postulasset, nec ullo modo impetrare potuisset, a senioribus quibusdam omnino illic non haberi, sed olim in Flandrias translatum fuisse ipsi intimatum est. Quod audiens cum gaudio repatriavit [. . .]”. Ibid., 127–30. Inventaire sommaire, Loriquet and Chavanon, 33: H. 2 [Registre], f. 165. Guimann, Cartulaire, 140. Inventaire sommaire, Loriquet and Chavanon, 381: H. 738 [Registre]. Ibid., 303–6: H. 426 [Liasse]. In 1544: “Ung relicquiaire d’argent doré où est le chief Mgr Saint Jacques ayant deux angeles et le pied doré qui porte ledit relicquiaire au couplet duquel a une imaige de Saint Jacques a bourdon doré”. In 1550: “A été délivré à Noel, orfevre de l’église Saint Vaast une pierre nommée doublet avecque ung chatton d’argent dorez auquel y a ung saphyrs dedans, pour reparer le chief de Mgr Saint Jacques”, and in 1562: “Deux pendans qu’on met aux chivières de Saint Jacques et Saint Martin qu’on porte aux processions”. Ibid., 307: H. 428 [Liasse], pièce 4.

56 Adeline Rucquoi 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55

56 57 58 59 60 61 62

63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70

Van Drival, Histoire. Translation à Douai. Dufournet, “Le théâtre arrageois”. Inventaire sommaire, Tison, 68: H. 1118 [Registre]: “auquel O est l’ymage de Saint Jacques et de couleur autour dudit ymage a 6 s. le piet”. Robert, Journal, 123 (1493), 160 (1476). Feuchère, “La question”. Morand, “Un opuscule”. Wailly, “Recueil de chartes”. Morand, “Un opuscule”, 510, n. 1: “Le chief de Monseigneur sainct Jacques le Grand en ung vaissel de fin argent pesant 60 mars ou environ, parmy l’entablement quy est ymaginé autour sur lequel a 4 anges, chacun 2 œules et ung diademe doré et pierroriet, esmaillet deriere en le moienne et eune chainette d’argent pardevant. et est tout soustenu sur 4 liepars d’argent”. Péricard-Méa, “Les tribulations”. Liber Sancti Jacobi, 203. Historia Compostellana, 194–7: “Quando regina dedit caput beati Iacobi episcopo”; Moralejo, “Busto-relicario”. Caussé, “Charte de Charles”. Cazes, Le quartier canonial. Lamarque, “Reliques et miracles”. Lamarque, “L’invention”. Ibid., 246, n. 32. The article by Péricard-Méa, “Les reliques”, although well documented, is full of errors. Documents, 14 and XXXVII. Daydé, L’histoire, 82–5. Fantuzzo and Saint-Martin, “La confrérie”. There is no mention of relics of Saint James in Toulouse in the Légendier written by Bernard Gui in 1324. See Dubreil-Arcin, “Saint Saturnin”. Actually, the opening of the reliquary in 2018 revealed that the date written on the “authentic” is in 1385, not 1354. Julien, “L’organisation”. Documents, 78–85. Ibid., 75–91. Julien, “L’organisation”, 66. Saint-Martin, “Des saints”. Péricard-Méa, “Les reliques”. “En la dicte eglise de costé le cœur, a la bonne main droict deseure une petitte montee de pierre, en une casse, la est le corpz de sainct George le martir. Apres nous descendismes par V degres, et la endroict y a une fort triomphante cappelle [. . .]. Depuis ladicte place, on descend encoires plus bas V degres auquel lieu y a tres belle capelle et plusieurs beaux autelz ou reposent les benoistz apostles dont les noms s’enssuivent: premier le corpz sainct Jacques le Grand en une fiertre d’argent; en une aultre fiertre, les corpz de sainct Symon et sainct Jude; en une aultre fiertre les corpz de sainct Philipe et sainct Jacques le Mineur [. . .]”. Valenciennes, Bibliothèque Municipale, MS 493, fs. 281v–282v; Le récit des voyages. Julien, “L’organisation”, 60–4. Gorsse, “Toulouse”, 90–1, 116–25. Ménard, Recherche, 109. Bruneau, Angers, 102, 116–17. Matz, “Les miracles”, 47–8, quoted in Kerbastard, “Saint-Jacques”. Bully, “Saint-Jacques-d’Échirolles”. Bordier, “La confrérie des Pèlerins”; Armogathe, “La confrérie parisienne”. Bordier, “La confrérie de Saint-Jacques”, 386–7.

Relics of St James in France

57

71 Paris, Archives de l’Assistance Publique – Hôpitaux de Paris, Fonds Hôpital Saint-Jacques-aux-Pèlerins. Comptes de l’année 1392. 72 Paris, Archives de l’Assistance Publique – Hôpitaux de Paris, Fonds Hôpital SaintJacques-aux-Pèlerins. Liasse 319, no. 232, quoted by Péricard-Méa,“Les reliques”. 73 Vidier, Le trésor, 30, no. 227 (1341), 122 (1377): “543: Item unum parvum coffretum de ebore in quo reponuntur reliquie Sancti Jacobi Majoris apostoli cum litteris certifficatoriis in pergameno scriptis, duobus sigillis in pendenti sigillatis”. 74 Ibid., 173, no. 89. 75 Vázquez, “La Berenguela”; Jacomet, “Notes sur les pèlerinages”, 39–77. In July 1483, just one month before his death, Louis XI gave two big bells to the Galician sanctuary “pour la singuliere devocion que avons a Monsir saint Jaques”, and by his will he bequeathed the church 338 “couronnes”. López, Historia, vol. 7, 415–18, App. 150–1. 76 Millet, Le Trésor sacré, 91–2, 96–8. 77 Lalore, Le trésor de Clairvaux, 19, 23, 29, 58, 61, 66, 151. 78 Inventaire du trésor, Quantin, 4–13. 79 Gervaise, La Vie de Saint Martin, 424–32. 80 Girardot, Histoire et inventaire, 2, 24, no. 58. 81 Inventaire du trésor, Fleury, 9–10, 20–1, 24, 36. 82 Kerbastard, “Saint-Jacques”. 83 Inventaire du trésor, Chartraire, 29–32. 84 Courlon, Le livre des reliques, 9. 85 Tresvaux, L’Église de Bretagne, 510–15. 86 Marquié, “En Catalogne”. 87 Beaufrère, “La Haute-Auvergne”. 88 Daux, Le Pèlerinage, 303–5. 89 Inventaire du mobilier, 264, no. 2464. 90 Inventaire de l’orfèvrerie, 175, no. 429. 91 Inventaires de Jean, 15, 78 (“deux noez de reliques, en chascun desquelz a un escriptal de saint Jaques le grant”), 84 (“un os de saint Jaques le maiour garni d’or aus deux boutz”), 93 (“un reliquiaire rond ou il a des reliques de saint Jaques”), 115–16. 92 Claverie, “Les acteurs”, who quotes Péricard-Méa, “Les reliques”; Girardot, Histoire et inventaire, 10–34.

Sources and bibliography Ademarus, Coenobii S. Cibardi Engolismensis monachus. “Historiarum libri tres”. In Patrologia Latina, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 141, col. 56. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1853. Aegidii Aureaevallensis. “Gesta Episcoporum Leodiensium”, edited by I. Heller. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptorum. Vol. 25, 1–129. Hannover: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1830. Albanés, J.-H. Gallia christiana novissima: histoire des archevèchés, évèchés & abbayes de France. Vol. 1: Aix, Apt, Fréjus, Gap, Riez et Sisteron. Montbéliard: Société Anonyme d’Imprimerie Montbéliardaise, 1899. Armogathe, J.-R. “La confrérie parisienne de Saint-Jacques (XVIe-XVIIIe siècles)”. Compostelle: Cahiers d’Études de Recherche et d’Histoire Compostellanes 13 (2010): 69–79. Arras, Bibliothèque Municipale, MS 112. Beaufrère, A. “La Haute-Auvergne et Compostelle: la chapelle du Bru et son pèlerinage au grand Saint Jacques”. Revue de la Haute-Auvergne 48, no. 2 (1981): 105–17.

58 Adeline Rucquoi Benedicti, Sancti Andreae monachi. “Chronicon”. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptorum, edited by G.H. Pertz. Vol. 3, 695–719. Hannover: Impensis Bibliopolii Aulici Hahniani, 1839. Bordier, H. “La confrérie de Saint-Jacques aux Pèlerins (suite)”. In Mémoires de la Société de l’Histoire de Paris et de l’Ile-de-France. Vol. 2, 330–97. Paris: H. Champion, 1876. Bordier, H. “La confrérie des Pèlerins de Saint-Jacques et ses archives”. In Mémoires de la Société de l’Histoire de Paris et de l’Ile-de-France. Vol. 1, 186–228. Paris: H. Champion, 1875. Bruneau de Tartifume, J. Angers contenant ce qui est remarquable en tout ce qui estoit anciennement dict la ville d’Angers, edited by T. Civrays. Bruxelles: Éditions Culture et Civilisation, 1977. Bully, A. “Saint-Jacques-d’Échirolles”. Inventaire des sanctuaires et lieux de pèlerinage chrétiens en France. Accessed 20 August 2016. https://sanctuaires.aibl.fr/ fiche/470/saint-jacques-dechirolles. Calixtus II, Pontifex Romanus.“Epistolæ et Privilegia, no. LIII”. In Patrologia Latina, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 163, cols. 1142–4. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1854. Cardevacque, A. de, and A. Terninck. L’Abbaye de Saint-Vaast: monographie historique, archéologique et littéraire de ce monastère. Vol. 1. Arras: Typographie et lithographie d’Alphonse Brissy, 1865. Cartulaire de l’abbaye de Lérins, edited by H. Moris, and E. Blanc. Vol. 1. Paris: H. Champion, 1883. Cartulaire de l’abbaye de Saint-Victor de Marseille, edited by M. Guérard. Vol. 2. Collection des Cartulaires de France 9. Paris: Typographie de Ch. Lahure, 1857. Caussé, G. “Charte de Charles le Chauve en faveur de l’église de Saint-Étienne et Saint-Jacques et des monastères de Notre-Dame et de Saint-Sernin, de Toulouse”. In Mémoires de la Société Archéologique du Midi de la France. Vol. 9, 231–42. Paris: Victor Didron, 1872. Cazes, Q. Le quartier canonial de la cathédrale Saint-Étienne de Toulouse. Archéologie du Midi Médiéval, Supplément 2. Carcassonne: Éditions du Centre d’Archéologie Médiévale du Languedoc, 1998. Claverie, P.-V. “Les acteurs du commerce des reliques à la fin des croisades”. Le Moyen Age 114, no. 3–4 (2008): 589–602. Collin de Plancy, J.-A.-S. Dictionnaire critique des reliques et des images miraculeuses. Vol. 2. Paris: Guien et Compagnie, 1821. Courlon, G. de. Le livre des reliques de l’abbaye de Saint-Pierre-le-Vif de Sens, edited by G. Julliot, and M. Prou. Sens: Imprimerie de Ch. Duchemin, 1887. Daux, C. Le Pèlerinage à Compostelle et la Confrérie des Pèlerins de Monseigneur Saint-Jacques de Moissac. Paris: Honoré Champion, 1898. Daydé, R. L’histoire de St. Sernin, ou l’incomparable trésor de son église abbatiale de Tolose. Toulouse: Arnaud Colomiez, 1661. Díaz y Díaz, M.C.“La Epistola Leonis pape de translatione Sancti Iacobi in Galleciam”. In En Camino hacia la Gloria: miscelánea en honor de Mons. Eugenio Romero Pose, coordinated by L. Quinteiro Fiuza, and A. Novo Cid-Fuentes, 517–68. Compostellanum 43.1–4. Santiago de Compostela: Instituto Teológico Compostelano, 1999. Díaz y Díaz, M.C. Libros y librerías en la Rioja altomedieval. Biblioteca de Temas Riojanos 28. Logroño: Instituto de Estudios Riojanos, 1991. Documents sur l’ancienne province de Languedoc, edited by C. Douais. Vol. 2: Trésor et reliques de Saint-Sernin de Toulouse. 1. Les inventaires (1246–1657). Paris: A. Picard et fils, 1904.

Relics of St James in France

59

Dubreil-Arcin, A. “Saint Saturnin et saint Jacques dans le légendier de Bernard Gui”. In Toulouse sur les chemins de Saint-Jacques: de saint Saturnin au Tour des Corps Saints, Ve-XVIIIe siècles, 127–35. Milan: Skira; Paris: Seuil, 1999. Dufournet, J. “Le théâtre arrageois au XIIIe siècle”. In Par les mots et les textes . . . Mélanges de langue, de littérature et d’histoire des sciences médiévales offerts à Claude Thomasset, directed by D. Jacquart, D. James-Raoul, and O. Soutet, 257– 68. Paris: Presses de l’Université Paris-Sorbonne, 2005. Fantuzzo, F., and C. Saint-Martin. “La confrérie des Corps-Saints de Saint-Sernin de Toulouse au XVe siècle”. Annales du Midi: revue archéologique, historique et philologique de la France méridionale 111, no. 226 (1999): 155–67. Feuchère, P. “La question de l’‘Aria Monasterio’ et les origines d’Aire sur la Lys”. Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire 28, no. 3–4 (1950): 1068–77. Geary, P.J. Furta Sacra: Thefts of Relics in the Central Middle Ages. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978. George, P. Reliques & arts précieux en pays mosan: du haut Moyen Age à l’époque contemporaine. Liège: Éditions du Céfal, 2002. Gervaise, N. La Vie de Saint Martin évêque de Tours, avec l’histoire de la fondation de son église, et ce qui s’y est passé de plus considérable jusqu’à présent. Tours: Jean Barthe and Hugues Michel Duval, 1699. Gerzaguet, J.-P. “Tempête pour un crâne. Conflit pour une relique à l’abbaye SaintVaast d’Arras: péripéties et enjeux (1166–1194)”. Revue du Nord 87, no. 362.4 (2005): 727–51. Girardot, A.T. de. Histoire et inventaire du trésor de la cathédrale de Bourges. Paris: Typographie de Ch. Lahure et Cie, 1859. Gorsse, P. de. “Toulouse au XVIe siècle vu par deux étudiants bâlois”. L’Auta 119 (1940): 87–91. Gorsse, P. de. “Toulouse au XVIe siècle vu par deux étudiants bâlois”. L’Auta 120 (1940): 116–25. Guimann. Cartulaire de l’abbaye de Saint-Vaast d’Arras rédigé au XIIe siècle, edited by E. Van Drival. Arras: A. Courtin, 1875. Historia Compostellana, edited by E. Falque Rey. Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis 70. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1988. Inventaire de l’orfèvrerie et des joyaux de Louis I, duc d’Anjou, edited by H. Moranvillé. Vol. 2. Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1904. Inventaire du mobilier de Charles V, roi de France, edited by J. Labarte. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1879. Inventaire du trésor de la cathédrale d’Auxerre en 1531, edited by M. Quantin. Auxerre: Imprimerie et lithographie de Georges Rouillé, 1887. Inventaire du trésor de la cathédrale de Laon en 1523, edited by E. Fleury. Paris: Didron, 1855. Inventaire du trésor de l’église primatiale et métropolitaine de Sens, edited by E. Chartraire. Sens: Paul Duchemin; Paris: A. Picard, 1897. Inventaire sommaire des archives départementales antérieures a 1790. Pas-de-Calais. Archives ecclésiastiques – série H, edited by H. Loriquet, and J. Chavanon.Vol. 1: Fonds de l’abbaye de Saint-Vaast. Arras: Imprimerie de la Société du Pas-de-Calais, 1902. Inventaire sommaire des archives départementales antérieures a 1790. Pas-de-Calais. Archives ecclésiastiques – série H, edited by G. Tison. Vol. 2: Fonds de l’abbaye de Saint-Vaast. Arras: Imprimerie Moderne, 1906. Inventaires de Jean, duc de Berry (1401–1416), edited by J. Guiffrey. Vol. 2. Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1896.

60 Adeline Rucquoi Jacomet, H. “Gotescalc, évêque de Sainte-Marie d’Anis, pèlerin de Saint Jacques (950–951)”. Compostelle: Cahiers d’Études de Recherche et d’Histoire Compostellanes 12 (2009): 9–44. Jacomet, H. “Notes sur les pèlerinages maritimes à Saint-Jacques de Compostelle (XIVe-XVIe siècles): hypothèses et réalités”. Compostelle: Cahiers d’Études de Recherche et d’Histoire Compostellanes 6 (2003): 21–56. Jacomet, H. “Notes sur les pèlerinages maritimes à Saint-Jacques de Compostelle (XIVe-XVIe siècles): hypothèses et réalités”. Compostelle: Cahiers d’Études de Recherche et d’Histoire Compostellanes 7 (2004): 39–77. Jacomet, H.“Toulouse et Compostelle”. In Toulouse sur les chemins de Saint-Jacques: de saint Saturnin au Tour des Corps Saints, Ve-XVIIIe siècles, 23–37. Milan: Skira; Paris: Seuil, 1999. Julien, P. “L’organisation du culte des reliques à Saint-Sernin de Toulouse”. In Toulouse sur les chemins de Saint-Jacques: de saint Saturnin au Tour des Corps Saints, Ve-XVIIIe siècles, 59–71. Milan: Skira; Paris: Seuil, 1999. Kerbastard, N. “Saint-Jacques”. Inventaire des sanctuaires et lieux de pèlerinage chrétiens en France. Accessed 20 August 2016. https://sanctuaires.aibl.fr/fiche/529/ saint-jacques. Lacvivier, R. de. “Inventaire sommaire des documents copiés dans le ‘Cartulaire d’Elne’ par Fossa”. Ruscino. Revue d’histoire et d’archéologie du Roussillon et des autres pays catalans 3 (1913): 175–93, 319–52, 471–9. Lalore, C. Le trésor de Clairvaux du XIIe au XVIIIe siècle. Troyes: Imprimerie de J. Brunard, 1875. Lamarque, O. “L’invention des reliques de Saint Jacques Le Majeur à l’église SaintJacques de Toulouse en 1491”. Annales du Midi: revue archéologique, historique et philologique de la France méridionale 111, no. 226 (1999): 233–46. Lamarque, O. “Reliques et miracles à l’église Saint-Jacques de Toulouse en 1491”. In Toulouse sur les chemins de Saint-Jacques: de saint Saturnin au Tour des Corps Saints, Ve-XVIIIe siècles, 85–93. Milan: Skira; Paris: Seuil, 1999. Liber Sancti Jacobi. Codex Calixtinus, edited by K. Herbers, and M. Santos Noia. Santiago de Compostela: Xunta de Galicia, 1998. López Ferreiro, A. Historia de la Santa A. M. Iglesia de Santiago de Compostela. Vol. 2. Santiago de Compostela: Imp. y Enc. del Seminario Conciliar Central, 1899. López Ferreiro, A. Historia de la Santa A. M. Iglesia de Santiago de Compostela. Vol. 7. Santiago de Compostela: Imp. y Enc. del Seminario Conciliar Central, 1904. Marquié, Y. “En Catalogne, dans le Conflent, un sanctuaire à saint Jacques, SaintJacques de Calahons”. Fondation David Parou Saint-Jacques. Accessed 20 August 2016. www.saint-jacques.info/calahons/calahons.htm. Matz, J.-M. “Les miracles de l’évêque Jean Michel et le culte des saints dans le diocèse d’Angers (v. 1370 – v. 1560)”. Vol. 1. PhD diss., Université Paris X-Nanterre, 1993. Ménard, C. Recherche et advis sur le corps de S. Iaques le Maieur, a l’occasion d’un oratoire très antien du mesme sainct qui est en l’eglise de St Maurille d’Angers. Angers: Antoine Hernaylt, 1610. Millet, G. Le Trèsor sacré, ou Inventaire des sainctes reliques, et autres précieux ioyaux qui se voyent en l’église, et au trésor de l’abbaye royale de S. Denis en France. Paris: Iean Billaine, 1646. Moralejo Álvarez, S. “Busto-relicario de Santiago el Menor”. In Santiago, camino de Europa: culto y cultura en la peregrinación a Compostela, 345–6. Madrid: Caja de Madrid; Santiago de Compostela: Xunta de Galicia, Arzobispado de Santiago de Compostela, 1993.

Relics of St James in France

61

Morand, F. “Un opuscule de Guiard des Moulins”. Revue des Sociétés Savantes des Départements 5, no. 1 (1861): 495–511. Paris, Archives de l’Assistance Publique – Hôpitaux de Paris, Fonds Hôpital SaintJacques-aux-Pèlerins. Chartrier. Liasse 6, no. 43 (1372). Paris, Archives de l’Assistance Publique – Hôpitaux de Paris, Fonds Hôpital SaintJacques-aux-Pèlerins. Comptes de l’année 1392. Péricard-Méa, D. “Les reliques de saint Jacques à Toulouse”. In Hagiographie et culte des saints en France méridionale (XIIIe-XVe siècle), 407–29. Cahiers de Fanjeaux 37. Toulouse: Éditions Privat, 2002. Péricard-Méa, D. “Les tribulations d’un chef de saint Jacques: Arras, Aire-sur-laLys, Cappelle-Brouck, Tours, Douai”. SaintJacquesInfo. Accessed 20 August 2016. http://lodel.irevues.inist.fr/saintjacquesinfo/index.php?id=1395. Pouillés de la province de Bourges, edited by M. Prou, C.-E. Perrin, and J. de FontRéaulx. Recueil des historiens de la France, Pouillés 9. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1962. Pouillés de la province de Rouen, edited by A. Longnon. Recueil des historiens de la France, Pouillés 2. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1903. Pouillés de la province de Tours, edited by A. Longnon. Recueil des historiens de la France, Pouillés 3. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1903. Pouillés des provinces d’Aix, d’Arles et d’Embrun, edited by M. Prou, and É. Clouzot. Recueil des historiens de la France, Pouillés 8. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1923. Le récit des voyages et pèlerinages de Jean de Tournai, 1488–1489, edited by B. Dansette, and M.-A. Nielen. Sources d’Histoire Médiévale 43. Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique Éditions, 2017. Recueil de chartes et documents de Saint-Martin-des-Champs monastère parisien, edited by J. Depoin. Vol. 1. Archives de la France monastique 13. Chevetogne [Belgique]: Abbaye de Ligugé; Paris: Jouve et Cie, 1912. Robert, G. Journal de dom Gérard Robert, religieux de l’abbaye de Saint Vaast d’Arras, edited by Académie d’Arras. Pièces inédites en prose et en vers concernant l’histoire d’Artois, et autres ouvrages inédits 1. Arras: Typographie et Lithographie de Mad. veuve J. Degeorge, 1852. Rucquoi, A. “Charlemagne à Compostelle”. Compostelle: Cahiers d’Études de Recherche et d’Histoire Compostellanes 17 (2014): 5–25. Rucquoi, A. “Le ‘chemin français’ vers Saint-Jacques: une entreprise publicitaire au XIIe siècle”. In De peregrinatione: studi in onore di Paolo Caucci von Saucken, edited by G. Arlotta, 607–30. Atti. Università degli Studi di Perugia, Centro Italiano di Studi Compostellani 7. Perugia: Centro Italiano di Studi Compostellani; Pomigliano d’Arco: Edizioni Compostellane, 2016. Rucquoi, A. “Un milagro de Santiago en Oviedo (Ms. Cambrai 804)”. Compostellanum 58, no. 3–4 (2013): 393–415. Saint-Martin, C. “Des saints et des fêtes: le culte des reliques de Saint-Sernin de Toulouse à travers les livres de comptes de la confrérie des Corps-Saints”. In Toulouse sur les chemins de Saint-Jacques: de saint Saturnin au Tour des Corps Saints, VeXVIIIe siècles, 73–7. Milan: Skira; Paris: Seuil, 1999. Stiennon, J. “Le voyage des Liégeois à Saint-Jacques de Compostelle en 1056”. In Mélanges Félix Rousseau: études sur l’histoire du pays mosan au Moyen Âge, 553–81. Bruxelles: La Renaissance du Livre, 1958. Teobaudus, Besuensi monachus. “Acta, translationes et miracula S. Prudentii martyris”. In Acta Sanctorum. Octobris. Vol. 3, 348–78. Antwerp: Joannem Nicolaum vander Beken, 1770.

62 Adeline Rucquoi Translation à Douai d’une relique de S. Jacques le Majeur le 9 mars 1862. Douai: Dechristé, 1862. Tresvaux du Fraval, F.M. L’Église de Bretagne, depuis ses commencements jusqu’à nos jours, ou Histoire des siéges épiscopaux, séminaires et collégiales, abbayes et autres communautés régulières et séculières de cette province. Paris: Méquignon, 1839. Tumbos del monasterio de Sobrado de los Monjes, edited by P. Loscertales de García de Valdeavellano. Vol. 1: Tumbo Primero. Madrid: Archivo Histórico Nacional, 1976. Usuardus, Sangermanensis monachus. “Martyrologium”. In Patrologia Latina, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 124, col. 295. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1852. Valenciennes, Bibliothèque Municipale, MS 493, fs. 281v-282v. Van Drival, E. Histoire du chef de Saint-Jacques-le-Majeur, relique insigne conservée dans l’église cathédrale d’Arras. Arras: Typographie de A. Tierny, 1860. Vázquez Castro, J. “La Berenguela y la Torre del Reloj de la Catedral de Santiago”. Sémata 10 (1998): 111–48. Vázquez de Parga, L., J.M. Lacarra, and J. Uría Ríu. Las peregrinaciones a Santiago de Compostela. Vol. 1. Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1948. Vidier, A. Le trésor de la Sainte-Chapelle: inventaires et documents. Paris: Imprimerie de Daupeley-Gouverneur, 1911. Wailly, N. de. “Recueil de chartes en langue vulgaire provenant des archives de la collégiale de Saint-Pierre d’Aire”. Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 31 (1870): 261–302.

3

Keeping the Angevin peace The hand of St James in England Simon Yarrow

Timothy Reuter once wryly remarked how “we harmless medieval historians aren’t isolated from the societies we live in, from which we import assumptions and then re-export them in the guise of seemingly neutral, researchbased truths”.1 On this occasion, he had in mind English historians, whom, he observed, privileged documentary over narrative evidence, and treated political history as a perennial project of administrative improvement and state formation, measured by the extent to which successive kings managed to issue laws, support commerce, and promote orderly government. We would do well to remind ourselves of this English version of exceptionalism, both as check to a resurgent nationalist imaginary, and to reflect on its obscuring, oversimplification of the past. Part of that habit, for example, has been the discrete treatment of lived religion and the history of church and state as institutions. In so far as the two are seen to coincide, it is often through the broadly Weberian narrative of cult to parish church spanning the 12th and 13th centuries, the pastoral infrastructure legislated by the Fourth Lateran Council bringing the people into the fold of Christendom.2 Points of intersection between popular devotion and “theo-political economy”, conceived of as that transactional space between political legitimacy and theodicy,3 receive less attention in this story. The cult of saints’ relics constituted one such transactional space. This chapter offers a reading of miracle collections as commentaries on this economy, its aim to point beyond an artificial secular/spiritual binary imported from our modern environment to see how governing elites contested and negotiated their status and wealth in terms of who best understood and served God, and who spoke on behalf of the unfolding higher good, especially when manifest as interim suffering, illness, or misfortune. Canon 62 of the Fourth Lateran Council prohibited the sale and indiscriminate display of ancient relics and reserved to Rome the authority to rule on the authenticity of cult.4 These were salient abuses and usurpations of heavenly power against the agents of which the church fought to establish its own normative authority.5 It also eschewed the formal definition of any greater directing role in lived religion for secular princes than that of leading crusades and protecting church property, ecclesiastical jurisdiction, and the priesthood from predation, violation, and injury.6

64

Simon Yarrow

Of course, princes and lords had their own views of what constituted the legitimate control of spiritual, legal, and material resources, including violence, as an instrument of governance. Some of these coincided with ecclesiastically prescribed agencies, others did not. From the perspective of secular elites, Thomas Bisson’s The Crisis of the Twelfth Century has offered a modified version of English royal administrative progress, seeing it as delayed until the late 12th century, and an unintended consequence of intensive lordship, not the conscious result of state-building.7 In its place, from the ninth to the mid-12th centuries, Bisson evokes an “age of lordship” and “troubled societies”, characterized by endemic violence and political calculus driven by “dynastic anxiety”, no less in England than among the lordships of France and the kingdoms and countships of Iberia. As part of the political landscape, powerful local saints like St Cuthbert of Durham or St Aethelthryth of Ely were attributed with the power to protect the people from predatory lordship, intrusive kings, or their agents.8 But the fear of such divine sanctions, according to William of Malmesbury, did not deter the court of King William Rufus, for example, from shouting down his prelates’ appeals against novel fiscal exactions, with the blunt retort, “Have you no shrines adorned with gold and silver and filled with dead men’s bones?”9 In this they are made to echo the lack of pious forbearance their king often had attributed to him by monastic chroniclers.10 The story points up a tension between two theo-political vectors, one in which loyalties were reserved for the fitting veneration of saints’ relics, another where such loyalties would more appropriately reside with the anointed body of the king.11 This unresolved conflict of loyalty in the proper service of heavenly and worldly powers, a part of the wider history of Church reform, was put in dramatic relief in the case of Becket’s murder by Henry II’s courtiers. More routinely, it was held in suspension by the marriage at this time of clerical administrative expertise and Plantagenet ambition, a product of which was the Dialogue of the Exchequer, written by Richard fitz Nigel, bishop of London and treasurer to Henry II. His was an instruction manual for clerical officers of the Exchequer, among other things, fitting them and their king with a shared moral rationale for the management of worldly riches. It was not for them to scruple the predatory means by which such riches were acquired. This was a matter between the king and God, a theme frequently revisited in the chronicles of monks. For those clerics and religious serving the king, the collection, accounting for, and distribution of, revenues was an honourable duty of stewardship. In such a vocation they supported the Christian ruler, for Money is no less indispensable in peace than in war [. . .] those whose duty it is to guard it have no excuse for slackness but must give anxious care to its collection, preservation, and distribution, as they that must give account for the state of the realm.12

Keeping the Angevin peace

65

Richard was fashioning for them a defnition of good intention and professional ethics and the means to demonstrate authentic credentials. As part of this delicate negotiation of entangled spheres of moral competence between church and state in the management of material resources and the maintenance of peace, lords and kings might attempt to co-opt the power of relics simultaneously as sacred objects linking religious devotion to heavenly glory and as material resources figuring in the theo-political economy of kingdoms and lordships. Conversely, churchmen might advertise their good faith and intentions through the recruitment of secular forms of governance and material resource for allegorical purposes. For example, Anselm of Canterbury’s text “On the similarity between a monk and a penny”, uses the figure of the minted coin and its properties of purity, weight, and mark to distinguish between the well-intentioned but weak and the false monk.13 A particular example of this useful blurring of distinctions between value regimes, and the work it enables in terms of brokering legitimacy and theodicy is reviewed here in the story of the hand of St James at Reading Abbey.

The foundation of Reading Abbey The circumstances in which the hand of St James first arrived in England are quite clear, the development of a cult at Reading Abbey less so, and certainly untypical of contemporary Anglo-Norman saints’ cults. These were almost all either revivals of Anglo-Saxon cults featuring the invention and translation – often to shrines in newly built churches – of saints long associated through oral tradition and hagiographical record, with their location.14 Reading Abbey was a pristine, royal foundation with no local cult to graft itself onto, and since there was no official record of its translation to the abbey, we need to ask what were the early circumstances in which the hand of St James came into its possession. Reading is situated on the confluence of the Thames and the Kennet rivers, one providing a corridor to London and beyond, the other linking up with the downs of Salisbury and Wiltshire and their wool production.15 It was a stopping-off point on the royal progress between Westminster, Windsor, Wallingford, Oxford, Woodstock, and beyond into old Mercia, and to important trading points west and south, including Bristol and Winchester. Henry I founded a new abbey there in 1121, colonizing it with Cluniac monks. Its foundation charter was issued in all likelihood in 1125, by which time the king had appointed his own man, Hugh, prior of Lewes priory, to the abbacy, having dismissed its Cluniac prior. The royal endowment of estates, jurisdictions, and immunities made Reading Abbey a wealthy institution designed to exhibit the reform values and penitential tone intended for it. The monastery served royal needs as a physical setting for largesse, display, charity, and hospitality. Its precinct was located to the northeast of the town, within its own walls, and with waterfront access. The abbey

66

Simon Yarrow

buildings were dismantled after the dissolution but surviving fragments and antiquarian illustrations leave no doubts about its grandeur. The abbey’s overall dimensions were comparable to the largest churches in England (greater than Ely, Canterbury, Peterborough, and Westminster and on a par with Norwich, Winchester, and Bury St Edmunds) and larger than most on the continent, since the Normans built big in England. Its nave, giant order pillars, seven ambulatory chapels (three apsidal and four east of the transepts) and cloister capitals made it a hugely impressive building. The un-faced walls of the southern transept and its two chapels and a few pillars and walls of the chancel remain, in addition to its cloister stones – more of which survive (though not in situ) than for any other English Romanesque foundation.16 Eric Fernie describes its cloister capitals as “among the most delicately carved and iconographically interesting of the period”.17 He notes the influence of architectural styles developed in the West Midlands, among them, those of Tewkesbury, perhaps its closest surviving analogue. The reform values in its foundation charter were intended to free the abbey from the interference of all lay patrons save royalty, for whom it was intended as a mausoleum. It was not to take young oblates or assign lands in fee to knightly families. Its large endowment of land was held by the abbot and monks in common, and during vacancies its revenues remained with the prior and monks. The monks were granted extensive and detailed immunities from all kinds of tolls throughout the kingdom and it had full criminal jurisdiction on its estates. Its resources and wealth were not to be diverted to the abbot’s relatives, or to be squandered to ill purposes, but were to be used for hospitality toward travellers, pilgrims, and the sick. A hospital for lepers, dedicated to St Mary Magdalene, was soon founded as part of this work.18 Pauline Stafford has demonstrated the importance of the foundation as a “penitential dowry” reflecting Henry’s appreciation of the role of queenship in his dynastic strategy. The bulk of Reading’s endowment was an assemblage of previously monastic lands that had fallen back into royal possession when their female religious houses at Cholsey, Reading, and Leominster failed to secure their freedom from the patronage of successive queens. The rehabilitation of these lands for religious purposes by Henry I expressed his penitence for the death of his son in the White Ship disaster (1120) and commemorated the deaths of his father and brother, his royal predecessors, and his mother and wife, in total three Williams and two Matildas. It also helped him inaugurate the reign of a new queen, Adeliza of Louvain, his last great prospect for a legitimate son to secure dynastic continuity.19 A third Matilda would prove the crucial link between Henry’s foundation and the hand of St James, but before introducing her, we need to note that, despite the sometime clerk of Henry II, Roger of Howden’s claim about him founding it, “for sheer joy of the hand of the blessed apostle James”,20 the king’s initial plans for his royal mausoleum at Reading did not include the fostering of a cult to St James.

Keeping the Angevin peace

67

Instead, the abbey’s dedication was to the “mother of God and eternal Virgin Mary and St John the Baptist”. The Virgin was particularly important to the abbey’s first abbot, Hugh of Amiens (1123–30), schooled in Laon, an avowed Cluniac monk, and who later introduced to Rouen as its archbishop (1130–64) the feast of the Immaculate Conception (and wrote a poem in devotion to the Virgin, In laude S Mariae). Among Reading Abbey’s relic collection (for which we have a list compiled late in the 12th century) were personal contact relics belonging to the Virgin, including a hair of St Mary, earth from her birthplace, fragments from four parts of her clothing, and from two parts of her bed, samples of her girdle, and eight from her tomb, the latter presumably recovered from the church of the tomb of the virgin in Jerusalem (a popular destination for pilgrims to the Holy Land).21 The “Virgin and Child” appears on the earliest of the abbey’s seals, a Romanesque illustration belonging to the foundation period, and one of the few surviving figural cloister capitals of Reading Abbey illustrates “The Coronation of the Virgin Mary”, for which there is only one English analogue in a tympanum at the church of St Swithun in Quenington, Gloucestershire.22

The hand of St James in England Emperor Henry V died in May 1125, the year Henry issued notification of the foundation of Reading. His widow, Henry I’s daughter, the Empress Matilda, returned to England in September of the following year with several items selected from the royal treasury in her baggage, in compensation for the loss of her dower. These included ceremonial crowns, imperial pallia, several precious gems, and the hand of St James.23 The Empress had been crowned in 1110 in Mainz on the feast of St James (25 July) and must have felt a particular association with the relic.24 There is some uncertainty about when the monks of Reading received it from Matilda and her father. A charter of 1126, probably forged or certainly improved in its surviving version, records Henry’s gift of the relic to the abbey, at the request of his daughter, on condition that “you receive it with all veneration, and both you and your successors ensure to display it perpetually in the church of Reading, with what honour and reverence as you are able, as befits the relic of an apostle”.25 Matthew Paris, writing in the mid-13th century, but with likely access to an early Reading tradition, dated Henry’s gift of the relic to 1133, when the king sent the hand to Reading before leaving England for the last time.26 Whichever date is correct, Henry’s placement of the relic at Reading aligned his daughter’s political fortunes with those of the royal abbey, an act that reinforced the king’s binding of his leading nobles in an oath of loyalty to her as his successor in 1127. But as events transpired, the Empress Matilda was not reunited with the relic upon her father’s death, which surely would have been a priority in her plans for a smooth advance to the throne. Instead, for the duration of the subsequent reign of King Stephen, the hand was held in safekeeping by Stephen’s brother, Bishop Henry of Blois, the

68

Simon Yarrow

leading Cluniac monk in England. His pilgrimage to St James at Compostela in 1135 might well have encouraged him to keep the relic from Matilda’s grasp following Henry’s funeral in January 1136.27 We hear nothing for 19 years in the surviving historical record of the hand of St James or of an associated cult. It might be said that St James was among those – according to the Peterborough chronicle – “saints who slept”, during the reign of Stephen.28 If not exactly sleeping, his hand was kept in storage by a bishop mindful of the support he might provide the Empress in her bid to claim the throne from Stephen. We next hear of a cult upon the hand’s restoration to Reading by Matilda’s son, Henry II, in 1155. One further threat to the permanent accommodation of St James at Reading was seen off by Henry II who refused its return to Germany upon the request of the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa in 1157. The relic’s absence from Germany, according to the Annals of Disibodenburg (near Mainz), echoing the hagiographical rhetoric of the Peterborough chronicler, had done “irreparable damage irreparabile dampnum to the regnum Francorum”.29

Keeping the peace During the interim, the opposing branches of the ruling family, led by Empress Matilda and Stephen, count of Blois and king of England, sustained their interests in those of Reading Abbey, mindful of its significance as a royal mausoleum and key to dynastic claims to rule. Ten charters were issued in favour of the abbey, confirming Henry I’s charters and additional subsequent grants to the abbey by Stephen, and three were issued by Matilda. Her gift in free alms of Berkeley in Gloucestershire, to Reading, named her mother and father, and Lord Geoffrey, duke of Anjou, as spiritual beneficiaries of the grant, and additionally specified “the stability and peace of the kingdom of England” as a further motive for the endowment.30 Another grant of the church of Thatcham between 1139 and 1141 expressed the same desire for the “safety of the kingdom of England” in its dedications.31 But in what sense were relics thought to keep the peace, and what role did kings and monks play in providing the material conditions to foster such a sensibility? A preliminary answer is of course “belief”, but this defers the first question. How was devotion to the hand of St James, and the relics of other saints, fostered when a feature of hagiographical accounts of cult is the need to address scepticism? And how do we explain those rapacious lords of Bisson’s “age of dynastic anxiety” who burnt down rivals’ monasteries whilst piously endowing their own? Such figures were evidently motivated by contradictory values of charity and ruthless self-help. The anthropologists Maurice Bloch and Jonathan Parry associate these contradictory impulses with the temporal rhythms of alternating “transactional orders” found in pre-capitalist societies. These include “on the one hand transactions concerned with the reproduction of the long term social or cosmic

Keeping the Angevin peace

69

order; and on the other, a sphere of short-term transactions concerned with the arena of individual competition”.32 Money might serve both or either of these orders, according to the particular institutional channels through which it flowed. Or some substitute for money, relics, for instance, might be used in entangled ways with it. Henry I and the Empress Matilda’s associations with Reading Abbey, linking their material resources and dynastic and devotional fate with the monastery, supported a transactional space through which Matilda’s son might activate elite networks and foster popular loyalties to their shared dynastic line. I shall turn now to the miracle collection associated with the cult of St James in England further to explore the internal dynamics of that space.

The miracle stories As part of a much wider commitment to documenting the history of the abbey in the 1190s, the Reading monks produced a collection of miracles performed by the hand of St James at Reading.33 The miracle collection contains 28 narratives, nearly all of them cures. Only one of them, the last, is explicitly (and suspiciously) dated, to 1127. Most of the remainder include sufficient internal clues to place them in the reign of Henry II. Most of the cures are of dysfunctional limbs, skin conditions, and examples of people in extremis who turn to St James as a last resort. I shall leave until later the question of what motivated the monks to produce the collection when they did and first explore its themes and the persuasive work they do. As mentioned earlier, the charter detailing Henry I’s gift of the hand charged the monks and their successors to “take care to display it in the church at Reading”. The miracle narratives do not locate the relic for us in the church, though one of them incidentally mentions Gilbert, bishop of London, (which dates the miracle between 1163 and 1187) climbing up to a raised point on a screen (perhaps between the nave and the choir) in order to retrieve and translate the hand into a new reliquary. Other incidental references suggest that despite Henry I’s grant of the hand to them in perpetuum, Henry II frequently made use of its portability. According to one story, Abbot Roger was returning from a trip with the relic to Henry II when he stopped at the plague-ridden abbey estate at Bucklebury. In another, a party of Reading monks took the relic to the king “as he was about to cross the channel, so that he might worship it in votive devotion and be fortified with the protection and blessing of the apostle’s hand before he went upon the sea”. A canon of Merton Priory, Roger Hosatus, benefited from a cure that “came to him from the king’s throne”, when the monks fortuitously stopped there on their return from court.34 A story from the chronicle of Ralph of Diss describes Henry’s use of the relic to secure an oath of loyalty from Matthew, count of Boulogne. Matthew’s subsequent rebellious attack on the castle of Driencourt during the great rebellion of 1173–4 resulted in mortal injury.35 The miracle collection declines to mention the oath and

70

Simon Yarrow

substitutes for it an account of Matthew’s violation of St James’s day with his violence. This was presumably to skate over the treachery of a man who acted in rebellious concert with Richard, king of England, at the time of writing. An appeal to dynastic memory in this instance would have been counterproductive. What proportion of time the relics spent with, or in transit to and from, the king is unclear, but the monks appear to have accepted and adapted to it in their custodianship and veneration of the saint. Whether due to its absence at court, or its vulnerability as a portable object, access to the hand appears to have been carefully controlled. Pilgrims and devotees most frequently encountered St James at a distance on processional occasions (a girl of Suffolk “saw in procession the reliquary”) and only a little more intimately through contact with the “health-giving water of St James”, in which the hand reliquary had been washed. There was an altar that “the people had been accustomed to call the altar of St James”,36 above which was a painting of the apostle. A lame boy of Reading, named William, arrived there on Christmas Eve and gradually dragged himself up to lean on the altar and gaze at the painting, before eventually he found himself able to walk properly for the first time in his life. Some of the narratives reveal the accessibility of the church to pilgrims who were cured on the saint’s feast day. A woman collapsed on the pavement of the presbytery with dropsy during matins on the eve of the feast. An extended bout of vomiting throughout the night saw her body miraculously restored to its normal proportions, a spectacle that crowds of pilgrims glorified the following day.37 Other stories describe water being sent to a suffering father and daughter who later came to the abbey healed with votive offerings. Even the earl of Gloucester had to “obtain permission from the abbot” when he visited “with his wife and several powerful lords” to show devotion to the relic. The rarity of such access is confirmed by the story of a woman of Collingbourne, whom St James instructed in a vision to visit the abbey on that very day, to be cured of her diseased stomach. The narrative’s description of her being blessed by the hand presumably refers literally to a ritual gesture being made over her by its anonymous handler. We might guess who its handler was from the only other two miracles that record this practice of blessing and direct contact with the hand. William the sub prior is mentioned holding the reliquary over the withered arm of Alice, the daughter of a clerk of Essex, and washing both with water, and again in the case of a fellow Reading monk called Thomas, over whose tumour he “signed with the apostle’s hand”.38 The hand reliquary was wielded in liturgical and processional settings within the church and outside in the town and beyond. Bishop Gilbert had blessed the congregation when he translated the relic from its old reliquary to a new one, and cured of his blindness a huntsman from the north of England, who had been divinely punished for shedding the blood of a stag on the saint’s feast day. Cynthia Hahn has discussed the use of hand

Keeping the Angevin peace

71

reliquaries by bishops for the purposes of giving the blessing during the mass and also in baptism for marking the Christian body through a signaculum, a protective sign accompanying the laying on of hands, that “seals out evil and demonic powers”.39 During one unspecified period, probably in the reign of Henry II, the abbey and the town of Reading, and its surroundings, were struck with a plague that killed children and the old, and 13 monks in the space of a year. A procession of the hand of St James was eventually organized. Townsfolk were instructed to fast, litanies were sung in the abbey, and the relic was then held aloft whilst the sick were brought out of their homes to witness its progress, the bodies of the dead left indoors. This miracle was repeated in the case of a group of villages surrounding the monastic estate of Bucklebury (acquired between 1151 and 1154), whose people, beasts, sheep, and oxen were afflicted with pestilence. Abbot Roger, after his visit with the hand to the king, celebrated mass in Bucklebury with the monastic dean there. He then processed with it to a high spot in the area and raised the hand in blessing. Water of St James was sprinkled in all the villages, in households and houses to focus and amplify the effect. The plague ceased on the same day and hour, “and the cruel pestilence disappeared both among men and beasts”.40 There is an echo of the Passover story in these narratives, in which God’s judgement is spared those of his faithful. The analogy of Passover with the Last Supper in Christian tradition gives a sense of the creative use in these instances of the mass to bring communities together in adversity. The hill above Bucklebury became a new pilgrimage location as a result of the miraculous removal of timber by oxen on whose harnesses had been sprinkled the water of St James. The timber had proved impossible to move by their owner, a local knight and friend of the monastic dean, until upon his friend’s advice, he gave it to the abbey. The timber was used to make a cross commemorating the miraculous intervention of St James against the plague, and a chapel dedicated to St Mary Magdalene was built there. Bishop Jocelyn de Bohun granted “forty days relaxation of enjoined penance” to those within the diocese who made an offering at the church at Bucklebury “beside the cross of the apostle St James”.41 The separation of the dead from the living, as illustrated in the Reading plague narrative mentioned earlier, is a notable theme of the collection. The first miracle describes a sheriff of the king visiting Reading Abbey with a serious illness that brought him “nearer to the gates of death”.42 He wished to be received as a monk to save his soul, having given up on his body, and the abbey agreed to place him in a habit at the point of death. In observance of monastic ritual, the monks placed him on the floor, and all came rushing around the body to be with him at his last breath. But someone had brought the water of St James and “though they were uncertain about the efficacy of the apostle’s power when the danger of death was imminent”, they gave him a drop of the water, and he recovered. Alice, the girl with a withered

72

Simon Yarrow

arm mentioned earlier, received her deformity after encountering “a ghastly figure with a face like a man’s and the appearance and form as though of a dead man prepared for his funeral and burial”. The story of Aquilina brings together a few of the thematic strands of the collection. Aquilina was the daughter of Reginald de Courtney and wife of Gilbert Basset, both involved in royal administration in Berkshire and South Oxfordshire. She suffered a desperate plight in childbirth that came to the attention of the king, who was staying in the area. Our author describes her complications in gruesome detail: the baby had breached and died in the womb, no doctor or midwife could help her, and she was becoming gravely exhausted so that, “a dead body [was] buried in a dying body, a corpse within a corpse, a child within its mother”. Aquilina drank the life-giving water of St James, was delivered of the baby, and survived her ordeal.43 Through these dramatic stories of individuals on the brink of death the author highlighted penance and charity as acts urgently beneficial to the souls of the living. Indeed, the spiritually purgative benefit is literally underlined by the author’s fascination in describing the writhing and vomiting and weeping of blood of those cured by the saint. Both Aquilina and Mauger Malcuvenant are mentioned vowing annual offerings of money and salt to the abbey, and others of lower status are mentioned as remaining in the service of the monks.44 There is no explicit association of the hand of St James with the indulgence system in the miracle stories despite there being other evidence for the abbey as an approved destination for penitent pilgrims. Indulgences enhanced the church’s pastoral supervision of the penitential process by enabling bishops to incentivize particular acts of penance and charity, pilgrimage to fixed locations at particular times being the most common used by 12th-century Anglo-Norman bishops.45 Archbishop Thomas Becket and 13 of his suffragans granted indulgences (probably at Becket’s consecration of the abbey in 1164) to those pilgrims giving alms at Reading within the octave of the feast of St James.46 Though the author of the miracle narratives shared in the benefits of this refinement of penitential technology, perhaps understandably he sought to advertise the Reading monks’ work in its provision over that of the bishops.

Becket martyrdom The abbey’s indulgences, as well as being a pastoral measure, were a concerted demonstration of episcopal support for the Angevin ruling elite at a brittle moment in relations between the two. The miracle collection makes almost no mention of the conflict between Henry II and his archbishop, Thomas Becket, which was in an acute phase in April 1164, or of its shocking denouement. It was clearly a difficult period for the royalist abbey. Rachel Koopmans has produced a detailed reconstruction from dispersed sources of relations between the Reading and Canterbury monks from the consecration to the aftermath of Henry’s penance at Canterbury in 1174.

Keeping the Angevin peace

73

To grossly summarize a rich article,47 Koopmans demonstrates the close relations an important minority of Reading’s monks maintained with Canterbury in defiance of the strict official sanctions of their abbot, William the Templar, in favour of royal opposition to Becket’s supporters. A flow of monk-pilgrims and the circulation of correspondence, reliquary pendants and ampullae kept diplomatic channels open, to the eventual benefit of the Reading monks. Koopmans refers to a papal bull of Alexander III (1173–81) confirming the episcopal indulgences, and adding an indulgence for attendance not only during the feast but also on the anniversary of the abbey’s consecration by Becket. One of the only miracle narratives later than 1170, is that of Ysembela, a young Kentish woman who arrived disabled at Canterbury, and received a vision of St James ordering her to “go to my monastery, in Reading, where you will be healed”.48 If the miracle collector skated round Henry’s “Becket years”, Karl Leyser observes the importance with which the abbey of Reading continued to invest its role as a royal cult-centre managed on behalf of the Angevin dynasty.49 A portable relic, the hand of St James catered to the needs of two geographical circuits in this Angevin society, one following the itinerant transactions of the king’s court and close associates, the other the annual cycle of pilgrimage and pastoral care associated with the development of parish religion and everyday activities in Reading and its wider surroundings. The water, the cross, the image of St James, and the hand reliquary itself all enabled diffuse transactions that brought redemption, bodily healing and the marking of social boundaries and life experiences, into play in agricultural societies. The author’s portrayal in ebullient terms of the cult of the hand of St James in England rendered the workings of a powerful transactional culture with which 12th-century lords and kings had to reckon. It convened and described an understanding of the relationship between holy power and material wealth that informed the conduct of elite household management. Along one axis of the political calculus sat the pursuit of land and rents, on the other the eloquent curation of material wealth through the distribution and display of heavenly treasures. In these terms was located wealth in the form of bullion, or coins, liturgical vessels and reliquaries, heirloom jewellery, or other adornments sometimes used as currency, and relics, as instruments for the conversion of power across different value regimes.50 The entanglement of coins and sacred objects in this indeterminate space is illustrated in a final story of St James’s cult in England that almost certainly provided the occasion and rationale for the collection of his miracle narratives. It concerned Henry’s sons, and successors, Richard and John. On the eve of the third crusade, Richard I “plundered the reliquary of the hand of St James”. We hear of this through charters issued by his brother, John, first as count of Mortain, later as king. John was quick to furnish the monks with a new reliquary for the hand, and, “inspired by the hand of St James”, he continued to support them with an annual payment of one mark of gold.51

74

Simon Yarrow

The biblical passage through which the monks of Reading appealed to its presumably royal audience is very apt: From the lord’s teaching, we learn how the servant who preferred to wrap up his master’s money in a cloth and bury it, rather than invest it for profit, not only lost the talent which he had, but also incurred a sentence of condemnation. Desiring therefore to avoid the danger of so frightful a sentence, we have thought fit to hand on to posterity, in what ways we can, the talent of divine bounty received by the merits of the blessed James [. . .].52 At a moment of institutional insecurity for the monks of Reading Abbey, when transactions with its royal patron were strained by the stripping of the relic of St James, through their miracle stories the monks presented a collection of commentaries on the theo-political economy in a language that reclaimed, by giving biblical amplifcation to, the administrative and fscal, service ethos of the king’s exchequer clerks evoked in Richard ftz Nigel’s preface to the Dialogue.

Notes 1 Reuter, “Modern Mentalities”, 4. 2 See, Biller, “Popular Religion”, and Tanner and Watson, “Least of the laity”. 3 Kotsko, Neoliberalism’s Demons, and Singh, Divine Currency for “theo-political economy” as a “‘zone of indistinction’ between theology and politics in the discursive sphere”. 4 Decrees, 263. 5 Vauchez, Sainthood, 22–31. 6 Though see Van Engen, “Sacred Sanctions” for the way ecclesiastical writers fit warrior elites with moral frames of reference for their lordship. 7 Bisson, The Crisis. For a similar diagnosis of the emergence of 12th-century Italian republicanism, see Wickham, Sleepwalking. 8 See Dalton, “Scottish”, for Cuthbert’s abilities to repel Scots aggression; and for St Aethelthryth’s defence of her people against royal agents, see Liber Eliensis, 250–3. 9 William, Gesta Regum Anglorum, 562–3. 10 Eadmer of Canterbury reports of William Rufus, that “he believed, and asserted in public, that none of the saints could help anyone before God, and that therefore he would not himself nor should anyone else if he had any sense, call upon St Peter or any other saint for help”. Eadmer, Eadmer’s History, 105. 11 See Kantorowicz, The King’s, 55, for discussion of the king as Christus in the Norman Anonymous. 12 Richard, The Course, 1–2. 13 Dinkova-Bruun, “Nummus falsus”. 14 Hayward, “Saints and Cults”. 15 Slade, “Reading”, 1. 16 Baxter, The Royal Abbey, 249. 17 Fernie, The Architecture, 171–2. 18 Yarrow, Saints, 192. 19 Stafford, “Cherchez la femme”.

Keeping the Angevin peace

75

20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

Leyser, “Frederick Barbarossa”, 487–8. See Bethell, “The Making”, and Baxter, The Royal Abbey, 305. Baxter, The Royal Abbey, 278–80, and Zarnecki, “The Coronation”. Leyser, “Frederick Barbarossa”, 490. Chibnall, The Empress Matilda, 24–5. Reading Abbey Cartularies, vol. 1, 39–40. Matthæi, Chronica Majora, 159. John, The Historia Pontificalis, 82. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 200. Leyser, “Frederick Barbarossa”, 491. Reading Abbey Cartularies, vol. 1, 225. Reading Abbey Cartularies, vol. 2, 257. Parry and Bloch, Money, 24. “The Miracles”. Ibid., 18. Radulfus, “Ymagines Historiarum”, 373. “The Miracles”, 11. Ibid., 7. Ibid., 10. Hahn, Strange Beauty, 135–41. “The Miracles”, 12. Reading Abbey Cartularies, vol. 2, 692. “The Miracles”, 6–7. Ibid., 16. Ibid., 9–10. Vincent, “Some Pardoners’ Tales”, 36–9. Reading Abbey Cartularies, vol. 1, 148–51. Koopmans, “Thomas Becket”. “The Miracles”, 15. Leyser, “Frederick Barbarossa”, 497–9. For an anthropological interpretation of display, Graeber, Toward an Anthropological, 101–2. 51 Reading Abbey Cartularies, vol. 1, 71–2. 52 “The Miracles”, 6.

Sources and bibliography The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, edited and translated by D. Whitelock, D.C. Douglas, and S.I. Tucker. London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1961. Baxter, R. The Royal Abbey of Reading. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2016. Bethell, D. “The Making of a Twelfth-Century Relic Collection”. In Popular Belief and Practice, edited by G.J. Cuming, and D. Baker, 61–72. Studies in Church History 8. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972. Biller, P. “Popular Religion in the Central and Later Middle Ages”. In Companion to Historiography, edited by M. Bentley, 221–46. London: Routledge, 1997. Bisson, T.N. The Crisis of the Twelfth Century: Power, Lordship, and the Origins of European Government. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009. Chibnall, M. The Empress Matilda: Queen Consort, Queen Mother and Lady of the English. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1991. Dalton, P. “Scottish Influence on Durham, 1066–1214”. In Anglo-Norman Durham, 1093–1193, edited by D. Rollason, M. Harvey, and M. Prestwich, 339–52. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1994.

76

Simon Yarrow

Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, edited by N.P. Tanner. Vol. 1: Nicaea I to Lateran V. London: Sheed & Ward; Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 1990. Dinkova-Bruun, G. “Nummus Falsus: The Perception of Counterfeit Money in the Eleventh and Early Twelfth Century”. In Money and the Church in Medieval Europe, 1000–1200: Practice, Morality and Thought, edited by G.E.M. Gasper, and S.H. Gullbekk, 77–91. Farnham: Ashgate Publishing, 2015. Eadmer. Eadmer’s History of Recent Events in England: Historia Novorum in Anglia, translated by G. Bosanquet. London: The Cresset Press, 1964. Fernie, E. The Architecture of Norman England. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000. Graeber, D. Toward an Anthropological Theory of Value: The False Coin of Our Own Dreams. New York: Palgrave, 2001. Hahn, C. Strange Beauty: Issues in the Making and Meaning of Reliquaries, 400circa 1204. University Park, Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2012. Hayward, P.A. “Saints and Cults”. In A Social History of England, 900–1200, edited by J. Crick, and E. Van Houts, 309–20. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011. John of Salisbury. The Historia Pontificalis, edited and translated by M. Chibnall. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1986. Kantorowicz, E.H. The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Medieval Political Theology. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2016. Koopmans, R. “Thomas Becket and the Royal Abbey of Reading”. The English Historical Review 131, no. 548 (2016): 1–30. Kotsko, A. Neoliberalism’s Demons: On the Political Theology of Late Capital. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2018. Leyser, K. “Frederick Barbarossa, Henry II and the Hand of St James”. The English Historical Review 90, no. 356 (1975): 481–506. Liber Eliensis: A History of the Isle of Ely from the Seventh Century to the Twelfth, Compiled by a Monk of Ely in the Twelfth Century, edited and translated by J. Fairweather. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2005. Matthæi Parisiensis, monachi Sancti Albani. Chronica Majora, edited by H.R. Luard. Vol. 2: A.D. 1067 to A.D. 1216. London: Longman & Co., 1874. “The Miracles of the Hand of St. James”, edited and translated by B. Kemp. The Berkshire Archæological Journal 65 (1970): 1–19. Parry, J., and M. Bloch, eds. Money and the Morality of Exchange. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Radulfus de Diceto, decanus Lundoniæ. “Ymagines Historiarum”. In Radulfi de Diceto Decani Lundoniensis Opera Historica: The Historical Works of Master Ralph de Diceto, Dean of London, edited by W. Stubbs. Vol. 1, 291–440. Rerum Britannicarum Medii Aevi Scriptores 68. London: Longman & Co., 1876. Reading Abbey Cartularies. British Library Manuscripts: Egerton 3031, Harley 1708 and Cotton Vespasian E XXV, edited by B.R. Kemp. Vol. 1: General Documents and those relating to English Counties other than Berkshire. Camden Fourth Series 31. London: Offices of the Royal Historical Society; University College London, 1986. Reading Abbey Cartularies. British Library Manuscripts: Egerton 3031, Harley 1708 and Cotton Vespasian E XXV, edited by B.R. Kemp. Vol. 2: Berkshire Documents,

Keeping the Angevin peace

77

Scottish Charters and Miscellaneous Documents. Camden Fourth Series 33. London: Offices of the Royal Historical Society; University College London, 1987. Reuter, T. “Modern Mentalities and Medieval Polities”. In Reuter, T. Medieval Polities and Modern Mentalities, edited by J.L. Nelson, 3–18. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Richard, Son of Nigel. The Course of the Exchequer – De Necessariis Observantiis Scaccarii Dialogus qui vulgo dicitur Dialogus de Scaccario, edited and translated by C. Johnson. London: Thomas Nelson and Sons, 1950. Singh, D. Divine Currency: The Theological Power of Money in the West. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2018. Slade, C.F. “Reading”. In Historic Towns: Maps and Plans of Towns and Cities in the British Isles, with Historical Commentaries, from Earliest Times to circa 1800, edited by M.D. Lobel. Vol. 1, 1–9. The British Atlas of Historic Towns 1. London: Lovell Johns-Cook, Hammond & Kell Organization, 1969. Stafford, P. “Cherchez la femme: Queens, Queens’ Lands, and Nunneries: Missing Links in the Foundation of Reading Abbey”. History 85, no. 277 (2000): 4–27. Tanner, N., and S. Watson. “Least of the Laity: The Minimum Requirements for a Medieval Christian”. Journal of Medieval History 32, no. 4 (2006): 395–423. Van Engen, J. “Sacred Sanctions for Lordship”. In Cultures of Power: Lordship, Status, and Process in Twelfth-Century Europe, edited by T.N. Bisson, 203–30. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995. Vauchez, A. Sainthood in the Later Middle Ages, translated by J. Birrell. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Vincent, N. “Some Pardoners’ Tales: The Earliest English Indulgences”. Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 12 (2002): 23–58. Wickham, C. Sleepwalking into a New World: The Emergence of Italian City Communes in the Twelfth Century. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015. William of Malmesbury. Gesta Regum Anglorum, edited and translated by R.A.B. Mynors, R.M. Thomson, and M. Winterbottom. Vol. 1. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1998. Yarrow, S. Saints and Their Communities: Miracle Stories in Twelfth Century England. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 2006. Zarnecki, G. “The Coronation of the Virgin on a Capital from Reading Abbey”. Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 13, no. 1–2 (1950): 1–12.

4

Roncesvalles as a reliquary on the way to Santiago* José Andrés-Gallego, Mercedes Unzu, María Peréx, Carlos Zuza, Nicolás Zuazúa, and María García-Barberena

Roncesvalles as a martyrial site Our hypothesis is as follows: (a) The location of Roland’s death was recognized in one of the last entries made by the Frankish armies in Hispania in the ninth century; (b) Roland attempted to break his sword on a rock on the Pyrenean pass at Ibañeta, where a chapel was subsequently built; (c) as Charlemagne removed Roland’s body when he retired in 778, this rock became the martyr’s main relic on the battlefield, fostering the transformation of the so-called Chapel of Roland into a monastery, perhaps in the tenth century, fully documented in the 11th century as “the Holy Saviour of Ibañeta”; (d) this Roman pass was on the road from Bordeaux to Astorga and served as the main western Pyrenean route by which the Carolingian armies of 778 advanced and returned, becoming a milestone on the so-called French Way to Santiago; (e) the evolution of pilgrimages to Santiago led to the transfer of the church – and a part of the rock – in 1132 to the modern-day village of Roncesvalles at the southern foot of the mountains surrounding Ibañeta. Closing the Codex Calixtinus, A Guide for the Traveller (12th century) contains the following description: pilgrims to Santiago de Compostela cross the Pyrenees into the Cisereis mountains, reaching the top before “descending the mountains, [where] they find the hospital and church where Roland, a very strong hero, broke a stone step/rock from top to bottom with three blows of his sword [postea vero in descensione eiusdem montis invenitur hospitale et ecclesia, in qua est petronus, quem Rotolandus heros potentissimus spatha sua, a summo usque deorsum per medium trino ictu scidit]. Then [Deinde], they come across Roncesvalles [Runciavallis], the site of the great battle to have killed King Marsile, Roland, Oliver, and 140,000 Christian and Saracen warriors [in quo rex Marsirus, et Rotolandus, et Oliverus, et alii pugnatores CXL millibus christianorum simul et sarracenorum occisi fuerunt]”.1 This paragraph is taken from Chapter VII of the Guide, a part of the book listing the Way’s various toponyms. In the following chapter (VIII), the author discusses the bodies of saints resting on the way to Santiago, including Rotolandi Martyris, and once more praises the hero’s strength

Roncesvalles on the way to Santiago

79

after completely shattering a stone step with only three blows of his sword (petronum quendam). A second time, he repeats that “on this stone step, in Roncesvalles, a certain church is built” [super petronum in Runciavalle quedam ecclesia fabricatur].2 This statement refers to an episode prior to Roland’s death in Roncesvalles in 778, according to the Song of Roland (11th century) and to the Chronicle of Pseudo-Turpin included in the Codex Calixtinus itself as its fourth part (12th century). In the Song of Roland, just before his death, Roland attempts to break his Durandal sword to prevent it falling into the hands of a Muslim. He thus strikes a great brown stone ten times, later hitting a sardonyx piece, all without success (verses 2338–40). In Pseudo-Turpin’s chronicle, he not only fails to break the blade, but also manages to split the marble rock with Durandal (chap. 21:2). Immediately afterwards, he dies. This second version of the story – by Pseudo-Turpin – is consistent with the description given in the Guide for the Traveller. This does indeed reflect the martyrial nature of Roland’s death, who is said to have died due to Muslim odium fidei (hatred of the [Christian] faith) in the Song of Roland and in the Chronicle of Pseudo-Turpin. Saint Roland’s Day was liturgically celebrated on 16 June each year according to a small section of the Codex Calixtinus that Hohler considered to have been written at the beginning of the 12th century.3 For centuries, people believed that the church mentioned in Chapters VII and VIII of the Guide was the 12th-century chapel of the Holy Spirit – the so-called Silo of Charlemagne – which is in modern-day Roncesvalles, with several 20th-century scholars also insisting on this identification,4 relying on textual documents dating from the 11th century whose authenticity they evaluate in different ways. We have decided not to discuss their arguments for three main reasons, outlined as follows. First, we now have critical editions of the oldest documents on Roncesvalles church and hospital,5 collecting not only the documents known by earlier historians but also many more, allowing us to better evaluate it as a whole. Second, we now know of the archaeological findings made in the second half of the 20th century and the beginning of the 21st century and some of the oldest dating back to around the year 900. This is especially important because until 2017 no archaeologist or historian knew of the respective discoveries made by their forerunners. Thus our work not only was required to be both historical and archaeological but also demanded a knowledge of the history of archaeological works carried out across the entire region, which Dubarat, Daranatz, Fawtier, and other scholars who wrote about this subject ignored. Third, this archaeological and documentary evidence must be combined with literary and palaeographical studies. Reviews of different versions of the 778 events, such as descriptions of the defeat, epic songs, and poems – the Song of Roland and the Codex Calixtinus included – suggest that versions

80 José Andrés-Gallego et al. of Roland’s story existed prior to the 11th century. By the year 1000, people named Roland had become relatively common, while calling brothers and relatives Roland and Olivier as an established pair was also frequent from Béarn to Auvergne and from here to the Languedoc and Provence. In the 11th century, this practice spread towards the north, up to the Vendée and Côte d’Or,6 and towards the south to San Cugat del Vallés, in Spain.7 Most likely due to the Norman conquest of Palermo in 1071, two Sicilian mountains were baptized with these names, one as Roland (later Capo d’Orlando) and the other as Oliver (Monte Oliviero).8

The site: from a Roman road to a pilgrimage way to Compostela It should be remembered that Book V of Chapter II of the Guide for the Traveller set up the 13 stages that exist between the Cisereis (Cisa) mountains and Santiago de Compostela. The first stage started in Saint-Michel town to the north of the Pyrenees, “versus scilicet Gasconiam” (making its way towards Gascony), and ended in Viscarret (usque Biscaretum),9 requiring a trek of approximately ten hours. To traverse this stage, the author of the Guide wrote that pilgrims followed the way of the Cisereis mountains, although many of them (peregrini multi) who did not want to climb as high (nolentes montem ascendere) opted to ascend the Valley of Charles (Vallis Caroli, nowadays known as Valcarlos).10 This valley stretches from north to south in parallel to the Cisereis and Roncesvalles mountains, which enclose it from the south. Thus, the western border of these mountains is the east-facing slope of the Vallis Caroli, with the southern end of the valley the port of Ibañeta (perhaps from ibargaineta, “above the valley”, “the upper valley” in Euskara).11 From this pass and at the foot of the southern slope of the mountains, Roncesvalles stands. In short, Valcarlos is located on the northern slope of Ibañeta, while Roncesvalles is on the southern side. Ibañeta is also the place where the high mountain path – the ancient Roman route – winds down from the east to meet the low route of the Vallis Carolis. We are not aware of any relevant archaeological findings in the Valley of Charles. Findings on the high road – the ancient Roman Way – are, however, relatively abundant. The Roman route crossed the so-called Imus Pyrenaeus (Saint-Jean-le-Vieux today) directly leading to the site now called Saint-Michel. The Roman road climbed up from Saint Michel and Saint-Jean-le-Vieux (171 m above sea level at its lowest height) to the southwest through Arteketa (831 m) and Orisson (863 m). Although Gaudeul and Tobie excavated these sites in the 1980s,12 the most relevant finding in this area for us is an Omeyan dirham from the period of Hisham I dating back to 793 and found at the edge of the Roman road near Arteketa in the 19th century.13

Roncesvalles on the way to Santiago

81

Through Itchacheguy (1,161 m), the Roman road crossed the surroundings of Château-Pignon (1,177 m). From here, travellers arrived at Urdanaspuru (1,233 m) and Urdanarre (1,240 m), whose megalithic remains Blot studied in 1993–4. After this, and continuing towards the south, they made their way through Leizarateca gap (1,298 m), also excavated by Gaudeul (1994), and left out the Urkulu (1,419 m), at whose summit there is an ancient building where works were developed between 1989 and 1991. It has been concluded that the monument was probably a Roman towertrophy like others in the Pyrenees.14 Pompey may have ordered its construction at the end of Sertorian War in 72 BC.15 From the side of Leizarateca (1,298 m), travellers crossed the Arnoztegui pass and then the Bentartea pass (1,344 m), with the former an important reference point. From Bentartea pass, the way continues along the Roman road on the northwestern slope of Changoa mountain (1,450 m). At the southwestern foot of Changoa, travellers could see the stone ruins of Elizaxarra (“ancient church” in Euskara) (1,290 m) to their left, which may have been a little church. Our team began excavations in 2017, with our most interesting finding a piece of dry rope (cuerda seca) ceramic, a type that is not frequently found in Navarrese archaeological sites, usually appearing in relation to Muslim commerce and only in the second half of the tenth century, although it remained in use until the 12th century.16 The walls were made of uncarved blocks of stone common in these mountains and overlapped without any type of mortar. Thus, their current state may point to the remains of a later reconstruction. Below, the road continued around the northern slope of Menditxipi. Further on, travellers walked the Itzandorre pass (1,318 m) before finally arriving at the highest, southeastern Pyrenean pass on this Roman road, Lepoeder (1,432 m), where the descent to Ibañeta (1,056 m) begins. Here at Ibañeta port, the low route through the Valley of Charles used to rise up out of the hollow and link up with the Roman road. Thus, Ibañeta is the most commonly used pass for descending the southern slope of the Pyrenees towards Roncesvalles.

Archaeological findings Findings in Ibañeta port are of great importance. In 1878, the road that joined Roncesvalles and Valcarlos, and therefore the French border in the valley and the small town of Saint Jean Pied-de-Port, was not actually a road, as only horses could walk along it. Navarrese rulers therefore decided to build this stretch of the way to allow for road traffic to and from Pamplona, the capital of Navarre. Up to that point, vehicles could reach Roncesvalles only from the south and Valcarlos from the north. French rulers were also interested as they supported the project to build a railroad between Saint Jean Pied-de-Port and Bayonne, the nearest important

82 José Andrés-Gallego et al. town in France, believing this could promote new French and Spanish commercial relations.17 Consequent excavations in the Ibañeta pass required in order to build the roadbed located human remains in the lowest section of the port. In 1883, a British Anglican pastor who lived in the French Basque Country and studied its culture, Wentworth Webster,18 asked the mayor of Burguete – the nearest village to Roncesvalles and Ibañeta – to provide information on the archaeological findings obtained during the building of this new road in 1881. The mayor replied with a very interesting letter,19 informing him that the road crossed Ibañeta through the lowest part of the pass, near an ancient chapel. Excavations on this section 1 metre below ground located several skeletons, a gold ring, and some coins. The mayor and notary public, Miguel de Masso, examined the ring and the skeletons but not the coins. He reported that the gold ring had a black stone with an enamel depicting a male bust wearing a hat with a feather, undoubtedly constituting an image of Mercury. Juaristi examined the cameo between 1934 and 1939 and wrote that it was a gold ring with a black and white stone. He concluded that it might be a Roman carving (“una entalla romana”).20 No one knows where it is. Regarding the skeletons, Masso noted that several wore one copper ring around each wrist and another around each ankle. As the cranium of these skeletons was very flat, the mayor believed them to be of a different race to those of the other human remains also found in Ibañeta in 1881, perhaps because they were Ethiopian – probably in the old Spanish meaning of “black” – possibly slaves, he argued. Masso sent all the objects to Navarre Provincial Council (Diputación foral y provincial de Navarra) in Pamplona, apart from the skeletons, which turned to powder when touched. The mayor reports that they were destroyed by the snow a few days later. Although Masso attempted to continue the excavation under the chapel, outside the parcel of the new road, the canons of Roncesvalles did not grant him permission. All they knew was that these were the remains of the aforementioned “chapel of the Holy Saviour that is called Charlemagne”. The ruins of this building were accurately described by French lawyer and journalist Xavier de Cardaillac in 1910. It is possible that he visited Ibañeta and Roncesvalles in 1908 and 1909, estimating that the chapel formed a rectangle of 15 × 10 metres. The most important aspect for Cardaillac was that the single nave of the church was transversely divided into two parts, with each of them containing a vault under the vanished pavement. Cardaillac thought that each of these two underground caves might be ossuaries that Charlemagne could have had built for the main Franks killed in 778. He published his observations in 1910 in the Revue des Pyrénées of Toulouse, and in a small book.21 Around the same time, a teacher at the lycée de Bayonne by the name of Louis Colas prepared a study on the burial of Roland published in 1911. He

Roncesvalles on the way to Santiago

83

had examined the ruins of Ibañeta and had written to the canons of Roncesvalles on 10 July 1910 claiming that he was sure there was an ossuary inside a crypt in the Ibañeta chapel (according to a letter by Martínez Alegría).22 French requests for the archaeological excavation of Ibañeta were made to Agapito Martínez Alegría, a courageous and well-connected priest among the canons of Roncesvalles. The priest took the opportunity afforded by the building of a commemorative monument to the Song of Roland in 1934 to begin excavations under the chapel ruins, eventually locating 11 skeletons that were immediately identified as those of the Twelve Peers of France. The news had great international repercussions. Although several hundred Francophone newspapers spread the news all round the world,23 French experts refrained from studying the bones, which were kept in individual closed cases inside the Roncesvalles Chapel of the Holy Spirit. It may have been in the 1940s that canons decided to empty them and put the bones inside the common grave. We managed to identify the remains in 2017; fortunately, the bones of each corpse were numbered in 1934. The successive Spanish wars and World War II from 1936 to 1945 suspended any new work on the Ibañeta pass. Although historian Vázquez de Parga developed the first rigorous excavation from 1951–7, he did not publish the results, announcing only that he had found a fragment of a Roman pre-Christian altar stone consecrated to the “Undefeated Sun” (Invictus Solis). That fragment is now in the Museum of Navarre in Pamplona. Throughout the excavations, Vázquez de Parga also found pieces of terra sigillata hispanica dating back to the first century and a coin of Charles the Simple, King of the Franks (reigning from 898 to 922). The finding of Vázquez de Parga’s personal notes was part of the works developed by Gabinete Trama, a team of archaeologists that simultaneously carried out work in five excavation campaigns in Ibañeta from 2009 to 2017.24 Vázquez de Parga excavated the entire basement of the ancient chapel with the exception of the part covered by Roncesvalles-Valcarlos road, sketching the entire plan of the old church. The excavations of 2009–19 ratify his description with new details. The main conclusions are resumed as follows: Presbytery 1

2

The presbytery is framed between the church’s two side walls and the wall of the head at the east. These walls are c. 90 centimetres thick with an interior distance of 3 metres between the two sides. We estimate “circa” 90 centimetres because the walls are made of common irregular stones, and the width varies from 1 to 2 centimetres. We suppose that the presbytery may form an irregular quadrilateral encompassing the entire rock upon which it was built. We cannot be certain because the western end of the presbytery is covered by the road built in the early 1880s.

Figure 4.1 The archaeological site of Ibañeta: 1. The Ibañeta pass. 2. Aerial survey of the complex of the monastery remains. 3. Position of the skeletons found in 1934 with Ethelred II’s coins. 4. Zones of the church excavated in 1950s Source: José Andrés-Gallego, Mercedes Unzu, María Peréx, Carlos Zuza, Nicolás Zuazúa, María García-Barberena

Roncesvalles on the way to Santiago 3

4

85

In the southwestern corner of the presbytery, a good number of human bones were found in 2009, all in deficient conditions. The remains of a man and two women were identified, and the oldest skeleton was tested for radiocarbon dating, which resulted in a chronological arc ranging from 1280 to 1380, set to two sigma. The point of convergence between the calibration curve and the radiocarbon analysis suggested the years 1280–1305 as the most probable date. Among the human bones were several objects, with one of them the probable remains of a scallop (vieira), the main symbol of pilgrims to Santiago.

Second body of the church 5

6

Under the road and west off the presbytery was a second section of the church, which is almost totally covered by the road. Several skeletons were found here in the early 1880s, as we said before. It could be another quadrilateral. Its northern side was enclosed by a wall that may have been the front door. In his notes, Vázquez de Parga does not state where he found the coin of Charles III the Simple (898–922), merely identifying it according to the catalogue of Fougères and Combrouse.25 We have only a photograph of the reverse side of the coin where he read “[M]ET/ALO” (from the mint of Melle). According to Vázquez de Parga’s notes, its obverse said “[C] ARLVS [REX FR]” around a cross pattée. We have not found any similar coins in Maurice Prou’s catalogue.26 Instead are several examples in fitting with the Ibañeta finding on various specialist websites (e.g. see www.inumis.com).

Third body of the church 7

8

A third body of the building extended towards the west by a narrower new square cubicle, which must have been the ossuary discovered in 1934. This is 2.80 metres wide. There is no particular reason to explain this reduction in size (from 3 to 2.80). As the presbytery, this third body was divided by a transversal wall that leads us to believe that two ossuaries were added. However, just as with the head of the church, this transversal wall was probably added in a reconstruction that did not respect the previous plan for the temple. Between the skeletons, eight coins were found in 1934. Seven of these coins are pennies of Ethelred II, King of the English. Recognizing that the sequence and dates of Ethelred’s pennies were yet to be established,27 Mateu and Dolley could only be sure that the six Ibañeta pennies belonged to the so-called First Hand (five of them) and Second Hand types (one of those minted in Exeter). The date of course could be anything from c. 979–85 and c. 985–91, respectively, according to Ethelred’s presumed monetary policy of demonetizing his coins every

86 José Andrés-Gallego et al. six years or so. In c. 991–6, Ethelred may have ordered to mint the so-called Benediction Hand type, which was not present in the Ibañeta grave, in the same decade substituting his bust for the Lamb of God on the front of a new type of penny, the so-called Agnus Dei.28 9 The eighth coin, made of copper, is unknown. It had an inscription that read “ROLVS”. Those who find it connected the coin to “Karolus” Magnus in 1934, but we wonder whether it was another coin from the time of Charles III the Simple, just like the coin that Vázquez de Parga found. Other findings 10 All this leads to the conclusion that the ancient church plan had become a rectangular nave of 25.4 × 7.5 metres. 11 This church had been destroyed several times, and was entirely rebuilt around 1590–1600 as a chapel with an almonry to host lost or disoriented pilgrims and other travellers.29 The plan might have been respected, and thus the burials not affected, except by fire damage. The last time in which this church was destroyed was during the FrenchSpanish war of 1793, which was the probable date of the fire whose traces appeared on the presbytery mortar floor. 12 After the church was destroyed, a smaller chapel with four buttresses was built, undoubtedly the one to have been accidentally burnt to the ground in 1884, with only some pieces of the walls remaining. Thus, the “modest shrine” that Colas, Dubarat, Daranatz, and others saw and considered to be the ancient “chapel of Roland” was not this; it was a small shrine built after 1793 on the ruins of the old one. 13 In 1951–7, outside the presbytery and to the south at a right angle, Vázquez de Parga excavated another rectangle of 3 × 6 metres, divided by a wall, locating several skeletons on both sides. (This is the rectangle with criss-crossed stripes in Figure 4.1.)

Sequence and conclusions To summarize the sequence of notes set up in the Guide for the Traveller and contrasting them with the archaeological findings leads to the following conclusion: Chapter II of the Guide of the Codex Calixtinus: In the first stage of pilgrimage through Spain, the toponyms included are Saint-Michel (point of departure), the ports Ciserae in the Pyrenees, and Viscarret (point of arrival).30 Chapter III: Among the important towns along the way to Compostela (which we interpret as important sites), the Guide mentions SaintMichel, the hospital of Roland, the town (villa) of Roncesvalles,

Roncesvalles on the way to Santiago

87

Viscarret, Larrasoaña (Resogna), and Pamplona (urbs Pampilonia).31 The church and hospital of Saint Mary of Roncesvalles, built at the foot of the mountains in 1132, is not mentioned. The villa or “bourg” – a small bourg – called Roncesvalles that the author of Chapter III mentions existed from the 11th century at the south of the mountains and lost its original name – that of Roncesvalles – in the 14th century; the European fame of the 1132 church and hospital of Saint Mary eventually monopolized this toponym. The name of this small bourg became Burget (“Small Bourg”, today “Burguete”). Thus, Chapter III may have been written after the foundation of the bourg of Roncesvalles in the 11th century and before the construction of the new church and hospital of 1132, those of the current Roncesvalles. Chapter VII, too: On the French Way, as we saw, the Guide reminds the reader of the double route – one through Cisera port, on top of which Charles’s cross (crux Caroli) was found together with many other crosses placed there by pilgrims; and the other way, that of Valcarlos (Vallis Caroli) – explaining the route to the hospital and church built on the stone cut by Roland; then, on the battlefield of Roncesvalles (Runciavallis, locus scilicet quo bellum magnum olim fuit factum).32 This draft was also made before 1132; Saint Mary of Roncesvalles did not yet exist. Chapter VIII: Among the martyrial sites, the Guide mentions Roncesvalles again (in Runciavalle), this time as the place where Roland split the rock on which a certain church was built. In this valley (in praefata Valle [Runciavalle?]), he died as a martyr of Christ (Christi martyr pretiosus obiisse).33 It seems that Chapter VIII was written after 1132, when Saint Mary of Roncesvalles (Runciavallis) was built. This fits the literary and palaeographical study of the Codex Calixtinus by Díaz; he concludes that the compilation of its five books began around 1130, and with absolute certainty, was not completed by 1145.34 In light of this archaeological and written information, we propose the following conclusions. 1

2

The link between Roland and Roland’s or Charles’s church of Ibañeta is clearly and repeatedly documented. The presence of a “grey stone” in the presbytery fits verse 2300 of the Song of Roland (“dedevant luy ad une perre byse”) and the description in the Guide for the Traveller. A first church could be built in the ninth century, as new Frankish entries in Spain lead to recognize the battlefield of 778. In some of the different ninth-century Muslim “razias”, this first church could be destroyed. This first church found in Ibañeta seems to date from the tenth century. In 905, Alphonse III of Asturias recognized Sancho Garcés as the King of Pamplona, and together they made an alliance to subjugate the

88 José Andrés-Gallego et al.

3

4

Banu Qasi, the Muslim family of Visigoth origin who dominated the middle of the land by the River Ebro. The Banu Qasi, on the other hand, made agreements with southern Wascons to defend each other against Asturian kings, Pamplona rulers, and Franks. The resulting weakening of Wascon resistance may have been supported by the Frankish rulers of Aquitaine, a support that Charles III of the Franks could maintain not only with Alphonse III of Asturias but also directly with Sancho Garcés of Pamplona. The coin of the first which was found in Ibañeta suggests a certain correspondence with a document from the Frankish monastery of Remiremont, in Lorrain, where Sancho Garcés is named around 910–12 as a person for whom prayers were said.35 On the other hand, the second body of the Ibañeta church and the meticulously built boneyard where the pennies of Ethelred II appeared could have been built between c. 985 and the end of the tenth century, according to the dates of the coins. This could also be the date of the conversion of the chapel into a monastery – that of the Holy Saviour – although the earliest written accounts of this change of status date to the 11th century. The date of the hypothetical memory translatio from this monastery at the Ibañeta pass to the current Roncesvalles, at the foot of the mountains, around a 30-minute walk, may be in or after 1132. By this date, both churches and hospitals had become two Rolandian milestones on the way to Santiago.

Notes * This work has been undertaken within the framework of the research project of the Spanish Government entitled “Las peregrinaciones a Santiago de Compostela en la España de la segunda mitad del siglo XIX: entre tradición y modernidad en el contexto europeo”. MINEICO, Programa Estatal de Fomento de la Investigación Científica y Técnica de Excelencia, Subprograma Estatal de Generación de Conocimiento, 2015–2017, IP: Dr. Antón M. Pazos (CSIC), HAR2014–58753-P. 1 Le Codex, 14. 2 Ibid., 43. 3 Hohler, “A Note on Jacobus”. 4 Dubarat and Daranatz, Recherches, 114. 5 Ostolaza, Colección Diplomática; Martinena, Catálogo Documental; Goñi, Colección diplomática, and Martín, Documentación Medieval. 6 Lejeune, “La naissance”, and Lejeune, “Une allusion”, 150. 7 Aebischer, “Un cas du couple”. 8 Michel, “Les origines”, 278. 9 Le Codex, 4. 10 Ibid., 14. 11 Urrutibehety, “La tour d’Urkulu”, 72. 12 Gaudeul, “Le rempart d’Arteketa”; Gaudeul and Tobie, “Arteketa-Campaita”; Tobie, “Deux nouveaux sites”. 13 See Lavoix, Catalogue des monnaies, 8, no. 27. 14 Tobie and Mezquíriz, “La torre-trofeo”, and Tobie, “La tour d’Urkulu”. 15 Amela, “Los trofeos de Pompeyo”, 191–3.

Roncesvalles on the way to Santiago

89

16 Faro, García-Barberena, and Unzu, “Pamplona y el Islam”, 251. 17 Andrés-Gallego, “Roncesvalles, 1934–778”, and Andrés-Gallego, “Abandono, reconstrucción”. 18 Echegaray, “Wentworth Webster”. 19 Veyrin, “Lettres du Prince”, 328–30. 20 Juaristi, “Roncesvalles”, 53–72. 21 Cardaillac, “La bataille de Roncevaux”, and Cardaillac, La bataille de Roncevaux. 22 AGN/DFN, 23 August 1934. 23 Andrés-Gallego, “Roncesvalles, 1934–778”. 24 See Unzu, García-Barberena, Zuza, Zuazúa, Andrés-Gallego, and Peréx, “Proyecto de recuperación”. 25 Fougères and Combrouse, Description complète, 28–9, no. 176. 26 Prou, Catalogue des monnaies. 27 Mateu and Dolley, “A small find”. 28 Keynes and Naismith, “The Agnus Dei pennies”, and Roach, Æthelred the Unready. 29 Ibarra, Historia de Roncesvalles, 690. 30 Le Codex, 4. 31 Ibid., 5. 32 Ibid., 14. 33 Ibid., 43. 34 See Díaz, “El Codex Calixtinus”; also, Díaz, El Códice Calixtino. 35 See Wilsdorf, “Un voyage de Sanche”.

Sources and bibliography Aebischer, P. “Un cas du couple Roland-Olivier dans une charte de San Cugat del Vallés”. Boletín de la Real Academia de Buenas Letras de Barcelona 25 (1953): 165–70. AGN/DFN: Archivo General de Navarra (Pamplona, Spain), section Diputación Foral de Navarra, GN/DFN/25531, c. 2142, no. 11. A Letter from Agapito Martínez Alegría to José María Huarte, Roncesvalles, 23 August 1934. Amela Valverde, L. “Los trofeos de Pompeyo”. Habis 32 (2001): 185–202. Andrés-Gallego, J. “Abandono, reconstrucción y uso del Camino Francés en el siglo XIX (en torno a Roncesvalles)”. In La renovación de las peregrinaciones a Santiago de Compostela en el siglo XIX: entre tradición y modernidad, edited by A.M. Pazos, 155–86. Monografías de Cuadernos de Estudios Gallegos 16. Santiago de Compostela: Editorial CSIC, 2017. Andrés-Gallego, J. “Roncesvalles, 1934–778”. In Mitos fundacionales y estereotipos de la historia de España, coordinated by F. Cardells Romero, 173–220. Madrid: Ediciones 19, 2016. Blot, J. “Le cercle de pierres d’Urdanarre Sud 1: compte rendu de fouilles 1989 autorisation nº 89/17”. Bulletin du Musée Basque 136 (1993): 171–80. Blot, J. “Le tumulus Urdanarre Nord 1: compte rendu de fouilles 1991 (autorisation nº 91–13)”. Bulletin du Musée Basque 138 (1994): 145–68. Cardaillac, X. de. “La bataille de Roncevaux”. Revue des Pyrénées 22 (1910): 16–31, 166–91, 425–43, 639–57. Cardaillac, X. de. La bataille de Roncevaux. Biarritz: Impr. de E. Soulé, 1912. Le Codex de Saint-Jacques-de-Compostelle (Liber de miraculis S. Jacobi): Livre IV, edited by F. Fita, and J. Vinson. Paris: Maisonneuve et Cie, 1882.

90 José Andrés-Gallego et al. Colas, L. “La voie romaine de Bordeaux a Astorga dans sa traversée des Pyrénées”. Revue des Études Anciennes 14, no. 2 (1912): 175–88. Díaz y Díaz, M.C. “El Codex Calixtinus: volviendo sobre el tema”. In The Codex Calixtinus and the Shrine of St. James, edited by J. Williams, and A. Stones, 1–10. Jakobus-Studien 3. Tübingen: Gunter Narr Verlag, 1992. Díaz y Díaz, M.C. El Códice Calixtino de la Catedral de Santiago: estudio codicológico y de contenido. Monografías de Compostellanum 2. Santiago de Compostela: Centro de Estudios Jacobeos, 1988. Dubarat, V., and J.-B. Daranatz. Recherches sur la ville et sur l’église de Bayonne. Vol. 3: Manuscrit du chanoine René Veillet, publié pour la première fois avec des notes et des gravures. Bayonne: L. Lasserre; Pau: Massignac et Vve Ribaut, 1929. Echegaray, C. de. “Wentworth Webster”. Revue Internationale des Etudes Basques 2, no. 3 (1908): 373–85. Faro Carballa, J.A., M. García-Barberena Unzu, and M. Unzu Urmeneta. “Pamplona y el Islam: nuevos testimonios arqueológicos”. Trabajos de Arqueología Navarra 20 (2007–2008): 229–84. Fawtier, R. La chanson de Roland: étude historique. Paris: E. De Boccard, 1933. Fougères, F., and G. Combrouse. Description complète et raisonnée des monnaies de la deuxième race royale de France. Paris: Fougères and Combrouse, 1837. Gaudeul, F. “Le rempart d’Arteketa (commune d’Uhart-Cize)”. Bulletin de la Société des Sciences, Lettres et Arts de Bayonne 141 (1985): 103–8. Gaudeul, F., and J.-L. Tobie. “Arteketa-Campaita: un site de la fin de l’Antiquité sur la voie des ‘Ports de Cize’”, with an “Annexe: étude monétaire” by M. Andrady. Bulletin de la Société des Sciences, Lettres et Arts de Bayonne 144 (1988): 19–51. Goñi Gaztambide, J. Colección diplomática de la Catedral de Pamplona. Vol. 1: 829– 1243. Fuentes para la Historia de Navarra 68. Pamplona: Gobierno de Navarra, 1997. Hohler, C. “A Note on Jacobus”. Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 35 (1972): 31–80. Ibarra, J. Historia de Roncesvalles. Pamplona: Talleres Tipográficos “La Acción Social”, 1935. Juaristi, V. “Roncesvalles y la canción de Roldán”. Revista Geográfica Española 4 (1939): 53–72. Keynes, S., and R. Naismith.“The Agnus Dei pennies of King Æthelred the Unready”. Anglo-Saxon England 40 (2011): 175–223. Lavoix, H. Catalogue des monnaies musulmanes de la Bibliothèque Nationale: Espagne et Afrique. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1891. Lejeune, R. “Une allusion méconnue a une Chanson de Roland”. Romania 75, no. 298 (1954): 145–64. Lejeune, R. “La naissance du couple littéraire ‘Roland et Olivier’”. Annuaire de l’Institut de Philologie et d’Histoire Orientales et Slaves 10 (1950): 371–401. Martín Duque, A.J. Documentación Medieval de Leire (siglos IX a XII). Pamplona: Diputación Foral de Navarra, Institución Príncipe de Viana, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1983. Martinena Ruiz, J.J. Catálogo Documental de la Real Colegiata de Roncesvalles (1301–1500). Pamplona: Diputación Foral de Navarra, Institución Príncipe de Viana, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1979. Mateu y Llopis, F., and R.H. Dolley. “A Small Find of Anglo-Saxon Pennies from Roncesvalles”. The British Numismatic Journal 27 (1952): 89–91.

Roncesvalles on the way to Santiago

91

Michel, L. “Les origines et les transformations de la ‘Chanson de Roland’: examen critique d’une théorie nouvelle”. Revue belge de Philologie et d’Histoire 25, no. 1–2 (1946): 258–301. Ostolaza, M.I. Colección Diplomática de Santa María de Roncesvalles (1127–1300). Pamplona: Diputación Foral de Navarra, Institución Principe de Viana, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1978. Prou, M. Catalogue des monnaies françaises de la Bibliothèque Nationale: les monnaies carolingiennes. Paris: C. Rollin & Feuardent, 1896. Roach, L. Æthelred the Unready. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016. Tobie, J.-L. “Deux nouveaux sites de l’antiquité tardive en Basse-Navarre: Gazteluzahar à Lantabat/Larceveau et Arteketa/Campaita à Uhart-Cize”. Isturitz: Cuadernos de Prehistoria-Arqueología 8 (1997): 125–36. Tobie, J.-L. “La tour d’Urkulu: un trophée-tour pyrénéen? Essai d’interprétation”. Bulletin de la Société des Sciences, Lettres et Arts de Bayonne 132 (1976): 43–62. Tobie, J.-L., and M.A. Mezquíriz. “La torre-trofeo de Urkulu”. Príncipe de Viana. Anejo 14 (1992): 251–8. Unzu Urmeneta, M., M. García-Barberena Unzu, C. Zuza Astiz, N. Zuazúa Wegener, J. Andrés-Gallego, and M.J. Peréx Agorreta. “Proyecto de recuperación arqueológica del hospital de San Salvador de Ibañeta”. Trabajos de Arqueología Navarra 29 (2017): 251–9. Urrutibehety, C. “La tour d’Urkulu, les ports de Cize et Summus Pyrenaeus”. Bulletin de la Société des Sciences, Lettres et Arts de Bayonne 133 (1977): 53–107. Veyrin, P. “Lettres du Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte à Wentworth Webster”. Revue Internationale des Etudes Basques 25 (1934): 316–33. Wilsdorf, C. “Un voyage de Sanche Ier-Garcia, roi de Navarre, a Remiremont (premier quart du Xe siècle)”. Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 130, no. 1 (1972): 227–30.

5

Visiting the Apostle Santiago Pilgrimages to Santiago de Compostela in the 16th to 19th centuries Ofelia Rey Castelao

Writing something fresh on this subject is no easy task, given the excellency of the existing material on the matter and the few new documentary sources to have come to light to confirm or shift what is already known.1 This is perhaps why reinterpretations are so frequent in this area. Some of these can be quite un-objective, since there are authors who offer conflicting opinions on the same issue, depending on the nature of the publication, whereas others are also very critical.2 For example, in his latest book,3 Dominique Julia admits that the Way of Saint James is a historiographic construct and makes a case for greater methodological rigour – when dealing with conflicting or incomplete data – and a deeper effort to be made to establish comparisons. Indeed, in recent literature on modern pilgrimages, those to Santiago have declined within the general hierarchy of pilgrimages, since the figures of Santiago pilgrims have come to be compared to those of other holy sites.4 This tendency is confirmed by the study of the pilgrims’ places of departure. Today it is widely accepted that any adequate study of pilgrimages will frame them within their social and economic context, that is, according to the impact of famine and plague; in their political and administrative context, that is, in light of the development of the modern state; and in their religious context, or in terms of the Catholic “reconquest” of Protestant Europe. These pages focus their attention on central issues, taking 1545–6 as a reference. This was a time when Protestant Europe was no longer sending pilgrims to Compostela; the Council of Trent was underway and the notion of pilgrimage was strongly endorsed by St Ignatius of Loyola in the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus.5 The Council of Trent, which ended in 1563, sanctioned the worship of saints and relics and endorsed pilgrimages for the benefits of indulgences. Preaching and prolific literature were both used as weapons for re-Catholicization and also helped to spiritualize the notion of pilgrimage, in order to confront criticism from not only Protestants but also Catholics. In consequence, pilgrimages to nearby shrines, dedicated to the Virgin or to regional or local healing saints, and carried out collectively and under the control of local priests and religious orders, developed and thrived. Likewise, long-distance pilgrimages were resumed, whether to Rome or to shrines dedicated to the Virgin Mary. Among these, the most important was

Visiting the Apostle Santiago

93

the Holy House of Nazareth in Loreto.6 The Holy House at the Basilica of Loreto was promoted by Jesuit propaganda and blessed by the Pope with the same prerogatives associated with Jerusalem, Rome, and Santiago. In this context, Santiago lost some of its old standing. Indeed, pilgrims on their way to Rome would pray to the relic of St James the Apostle at the Cathedral of Pistoia, while the stories of pilgrims to Compostela recounting their visits to shrines dedicated to Our Lady all symbolized the new situation. However, as we shall see, Santiago did enjoy a period of prosperity from 1640 to 1670. Pilgrimages had fizzled out by the close of the 17th century, to be replaced by the activities of the brotherhoods and by a Christ-focused religion. By then, the most tuned-in factions of bishops and clergy had become suspicious of the pilgrims’ faith, regarding them as vagrants. Likewise, local priests could not understand their believers’ faith, as they neither confessed nor went to communion before setting off on a pilgrimage. Pilgrimages were thus left to the lower social classes and trips on local festivities to nearby shrines.7 Over the 18th century, this line of thought was reinforced by the notion endorsed by the ecclesiastical and secular elites, who were highly critical of the immorality and sloth they saw in pilgrimages. In effect, the decisions made by European countries at the time reflected such an attitude. Most pilgrims to Compostela set off from France. For this reason, it must be remembered that in the wake of the European wars of religion and the Edict of Nantes (1598), re-Catholicization used internal pilgrimages and the creation of sanctuaries with relics as its two main weapons. In 1622, the monks of Saint Michel collected all the relics in their monastery, which had peaked as a celebrated shrine, and other monasteries did the same.8 In Burgundy, there was one shrine for every 11 parishes; one out of two parishes in central Lorraine was a shrine, while a thriving production of printed material broadcast their fame. Bruno Maes compiled 596 for the period of 1480 to 1800, all on 296 shrines, although the pilgrimages were generally spread by word of mouth.9 The key to success lay in gaining indulgence through the visit to the holy site. This was why so many churches and shrines got the Pope to grant the same indulgences as those enjoyed by Rome, Jerusalem, and Santiago.10

The pilgrimage to Compostela, an unknown city In the literature on pilgrimages, the town of Compostela is absent, excepting its cathedral – the pilgrims’ destiny – and the Royal Hospital – the place where they stayed. This was also the case over the Modern Age, when the narratives of pilgrims and travellers depict a small and unattractive town, with very limited services. From what is known, any traveller arriving there in 1546 would have found a bustling centre for trade and administration, connected to the Church and the University. It was politically stable and economically buoyant. In that year, however, council regulations took a harsh view of those arriving in the town with no occupation and under the

94

Ofelia Rey Castelao

excuse of being pilgrims. Unless they were working, they were to be expelled from the town after three days. This order was kept until the end of the 18th century, with a view to maintain peace and to keep begging in check, which negatively affected the poor in the town. The year 1546 also saw the Royal Hospital claim the income of the hospital of San Miguel, which was managed by the council, in order to meet the needs of the poor. That year, the Royal Hospital had seven infirmaries with 173 beds; however, the 44 beds intended for pilgrims were not used. This reflects the lack of visitors, prompting the city authorities to designate the Royal Hospital at the city’s service. In Jubilee years 1557 and 1561, the Hospital sought to give priority to the pilgrims, with this causing complaints from the town authorities. The poor received rations of bread from the monasteries, and the Archbishop and the Chapter of the cathedral gave alms to the poor, who came from outside town and were mostly peasants. This system was perfected over the Early Modern Age, with the town becoming the major refuge for the poor in Galicia, who flocked to Santiago to beg for alms from institutions, nobility, clergy, and the bourgeoisie, especially during periods of famine and disease. This took place at the turn of the 17th century, at the end of the 17th century, into the 18th century in the years 1709–10 and in 1768–9. During these times, the system gave all priority to the poor and the pilgrims were even evicted from the Royal Hospital.11 Following the Council of Trent, the City benefited from the activity of archbishops, who were the masters of the town and whose revenues had increased significantly since the mid-16th century. Francisco Blanco founded the school of the Society of Jesus and the hospital for the syphilitic, while Juan de San Clemente opened a middle school for university students and a college for orphaned girls. However, signs of trouble were already in evidence: from 1565 onward, the Plague made its appearance, with the city suffering under the effects of disease and hunger by the turn of the 17th century, as did all of Europe. By 1607, the population had fallen to 6,589 inhabitants, transforming the town by 1635, by which time its clerical and noble status had been confirmed and trade had been displaced by aristocracy and bureaucracy. Up until 1670, the population of Compostela grew little before increasing more sharply, particularly from 1700 to 1760. In 1753, for example, the town had 16,000 inhabitants. By the end of the 18th century, although the town had not lost its ecclesiastical and traditional character, the University had grown in importance and prestige and a middle class had emerged in connection to the textile industry and trade. By this time, the town had new institutions to aid the sick and the poor, but pilgrim arrivals were few and far between. One of the most striking features of the history of Compostela is its lack of references to pilgrims: as mentioned, council records collect complaints caused by their presence and references to the celebration of the festivity of the Apostle, but there is no evidence of initiatives to assist them. Nobody in the Early Modern Age wrote a history of the city.

Visiting the Apostle Santiago

95

Although histories of Galicia do occasionally mention Santiago and often refer to the worship of the Apostle, pilgrimages are scarcely touched upon.12 The Cathedral was the focus for pilgrimage, and those responsible for the Cathedral were the Archbishop and the Cathedral Chapter, whose income stemmed from the so-called Voto de Santiago, a yearly rent paid in cereal by peasants, mostly from the Crown of Castile. A court ruling from 1570 forced peasants in southern Spain to pay the Voto, which benefited the Chapter and the Archbishop. The archbishops made donations to the Cathedral but focused more on creating educational and healthcare centres. Incidentally, none of these were for pilgrims. Regarding the Cathedral Chapter, the Council of Trent forced the canons to take up residence in Santiago and to take care of their churchly duties. In effect, they were men from rich families outside Galicia, who dedicated time to the management of their rents – especially the Voto – and property, to contend with each other and with the Archbishop for matters of honour and privilege, and to deal with Cathedral concerns.13 The temple was not wealthy, since it had neither equity nor important rents, while donations and foundations generated little income and alms were scarce. In fact, the Cathedral was the only Jacobean institution that did not exact the Voto. The upkeep and maintenance of the building largely depended on the Chapel of Music, which did receive part of the Voto. Thus, the transformation that turned the Cathedral into an artistic marvel was a rather late development, since the most important phase in its building began in 1657–8, following the initiative of the Chapter and under the direction of Canon Vega y Verdugo, culminating in the mid-18th century. This process had nothing to do with contributions from the pilgrims, which were always insignificant, nor with the increase in pilgrimages, which fell after 1655. It was, however, connected to a furtherance of Cathedral resources: in 1643, King Felipe IV assigned the Cathedral a pension income derived from the Archbishop’s rents, while revenue from the Chapel of Music also grew. It should be highlighted that pilgrim institutions depended on worship of the Apostle and on the Voto, but not on contributions from the pilgrims, the faithful, or the King. This explains why Archbishops and Canons showed little interest in renewing the pilgrimages – pilgrims actually generated more expense than they did income – and it also explains the scarcity of data on the subject. By the turn of the 16th century, the Book of Miracles of the Apostle or Cuaderno de Milagros was no longer. After that time, the Canons were rather careless in completing it. In the Constitutions or regulations issued by Archbishop Francisco Blanco in 1578 to update rituals at the Cathedral, no references were made to pilgrimages. In the Chapter records, the central issue is the Voto, its collection and the hundreds of lawsuits it generated, given the strong opposition by the peasants and other social groups to pay it. The Voto alone took up all the Cathedral administration’s time and attention.14

96

Ofelia Rey Castelao

Evidently, the Chapter records also made reference to other subjects, namely the Jubilees or Jubilee Years, the Pope’s request for the renewal of privileges and indulgences, the arrival of important pilgrims, the alms given to the less privileged (only 400 in 1604 and 1777, not all of them pilgrims), and the convents that welcomed visitors. References to translators or lenguajeros for pilgrims are also found. The lenguajeros were Jesuits of the Santiago school, although at times there were more – 1605, 1618–19 – while in others they were neglected (1691) or conflicts ensued.15 The most significant conflict took place from 1706–8 to 1722, when one of the Jesuit preachers questioned the validity of a pilgrimage for redemption from the consequences of sin. As a result, the Jesuits were banned from the Cathedral. Most worrying of all was that with this conflict in full force, the Chapter received the appalling news that the Bull of the Holy Year was false.16

A dark period for pilgrimage The lack of data from the Cathedral and Archbishop records, and even from the Royal Hospital, becomes critical over the second half of the 16th and the turn of the 17th century. Dominique Julia argues that at this time the number of pilgrimages from France increased. His suggestions are based on comments by the chaplain of Notre Dame de Provins (1575), who noted an increasing number of passing pilgrims and a rise in the number of brothers in the St James brotherhood; the Journal (1583) of carpenter Jean Dussot and his comments concerning the rise of this brotherhood in Reims; the editions of Charles Estienne’s Guide des Chemins de France (1552, 1583, and 1600); the publication of Jean Gouyn’s Histoire da la vie et prédication of the Apostle in Orleans in 1593 and 1603, which includes a guide; or on the tragedy of Saint-Jacques by Bardon de Brun to be represented at Limoges on 25 July 1596.17 However, this is production connected to the jacquair guilds that disappeared from 1600 to 1620 and took place on a stage of Catholic reconquest. It was not easy for the French to go on pilgrimages due to the European religious wars. The violence was particularly bad in the centre and west of France (1562–3 to 1574–86), and particularly upon the closure of the border between Spain and Portugal in 1580 due to the war. The situation improved in France following the Edict of Nantes (1598), as it did in Spain and Portugal, mostly due to the pacifist policies of King Felipe III, which made travelling less dangerous. The hospital of the Trinidad dei Pellegrini in Rome was home to 60,000– 70,000 pilgrims a year in 1550; 174,367 in 1575; 180,000 in 1600, and so on. And that was only a part – all in all, 350,000–400,000 arrived per year. Likewise, the Basilica of Loreto came to receive around 60,000 pilgrims a year by 1575.18 However, data on Santiago are not positive until the Jubilee year of 1610. In terms of the arrival of pilgrims, the most significant factor is the bout of plague from 1565 to 1607; for their journeys back, visitors were forced to order certificates ensuring that there was no plague in Santiago.19

Visiting the Apostle Santiago

97

Perhaps it was less significant that the Cathedral was under injunction: the aldermen of the city filed a lawsuit in the Court of Galicia against the Archbishop and the Chapter, preventing them from carrying the “rods of the saint’s canopy with their swords on the day of the Holy Sacrament”. In 1601, Chapter and Archbishop sent delegations to the King, complaining about the “profound scandal” that this situation had caused, which was “detrimental for the pilgrims”. They also sent a delegation of messengers to the Pope, requesting that any future injunction on the Cathedral be prevented, since it prevented daily worship at the temple and “given the large affluence of pilgrims”.20 This was not the only problem, however. In 1589, the Chapter decided to hide the relics of the Apostle, together with other key documents related to the Jacobean tradition, following Francis Drake’s attack on the nearby port of A Coruña. Relics and documents did not turn up again until 1878, although pilgrims were not informed of this. It is at the very least unusual that the Chapter seems to have forgotten where they had been concealed. The truth is that there were underlying causes, namely certain doubts concerning the authenticity of the body of the Apostle, the critical comments from the King’s chronicler, Ambrosio de Morales, after his visit in 1574, and the project to move the relics to the monastery of El Escorial to become part of King Felipe II’s collection. There was also unease generated by a possible inspection of the relics by delegates from the Chancellery (Chancillería) of Valladolid, following a request from lawyer Lázaro González de Acevedo. He represented five dioceses from Castile, taken to court by the Chapter in an attempt to exact the Voto from them. The lawyer’s defence was based on the alleged falsification of the documents and traditions presented by the Chapter in the trial. A court ruling from the Chancellery in 1592, which was confirmed by the Council of Castile in 1628, accepted the lawyer’s arguments. All this cast further doubt on all things related to the worship of St James. Another issue was the fallout in the wake of Rome’s decision to suppress all references in the Breviary to preaching in Santiago and to the presence of his body at Compostela, following suggestions made by Cardinal Baronio Cesar. Kings Felipe II and III made a strong case against this decision, but it was not easy to amend the Breviary. On the other hand, the “Moors” (moriscos) were expelled from Spain in 1609, so the Apostle lost much of the symbolic value it had in the fight against Islam. In 1610, King Felipe III sent his chaplain Diego de Guzmán to Compostela with a donation as an act of thanksgiving, together with his apology for not going there on a pilgrimage, as he had promised. In this same Jubilee Year of 1610, the Chapter took certain measures to ensure that all went well and to contain abusive or deceptive practices. These would stem either from cathedral clergymen, in connection to pilgrims’ confessions, the costs for having a Mass said or from women who sold candles at the Cathedral.21 The influx of pilgrims seems to have been considerable: as suggested by a complaint filed by the Council

98 Ofelia Rey Castelao of Santiago to the Council of Castile against the administrator of the Royal Hospital, who had apparently given priority to pilgrims. Felipe III did not go on his pilgrimage to Santiago, nor did any other king after King Carlos V paid the city a visit in 1520 on his way to the port of A Coruña to set sail. Although French kings would embark on pilgrimages as acts of royal propaganda and would also have special shrines for their own reference, not so the Spanish. The Apostle St James was not even his only patron saint. The Crown sent a delegate to Santiago every Jubilee year and did so every year after the creation of a royal offering or ofrenda real in 1643. However, this royal offering was but a kingly strategy to make its presence known in a town which was under the rule of the Archbishop, and in which the Crown had no power whatsoever. It was also a reward for having appointed Teresa of Ávila as co-patron saint of the monarchy, first by Felipe III in 1617 and later by Felipe IV in 1626. The Apostle was restored to full patronship in 1630, but Carlos II and the following kings repeatedly tried to change their patron saint, reflecting scant Jacobean enthusiasm.22

Brotherhoods and French hospitals Brotherhoods were an essential element of Catholicism.23 In France, they were reinforced following the wars of religion and widely used after the Council of Trent as a weapon of reconquest, operating under the framework of the parish and the influence of Rome and several religious orders. The brotherhoods of Santiago and of Jacquets were medieval in origin. It is estimated that there were around 300 of them, converted into brotherhoods of devotion without the requirement for pilgrimage to become a brother. Some of them were even founded at the turn of the 17th century, such as the brotherhood of Saint-Jacques de Bayonne, while others went through a process of reorganization. This was the case of the brotherhoods of Nantes in 1588, based in the convent of the Carmelites and supported by silk and wool merchants; the brotherhood of Limoges, in Haute-Vienne in 1608; the one in Perpignan in 1609, and the one in Moissac (Quercy) in 1615. Generally speaking, brotherhoods peaked in the middle of the 17th century. Thus, the one in Moissac accepted six brethren or members a year up to 1628, 12 in 1634, 28 in 1655, 19 in 1656, 15 in 1660–7, only one in 1669, and four in 1674. They all experienced a decline in the 18th century, with the Rouen brotherhood remaining inactive after 1740, no brethren joining the one in Lyon after 1774 and the Chalon-sur-Saône brotherhood falling to 60 brethren in 1750–9, eight in 1760–9, 14 in 1770–9 and seven in 1780–9, and so on.24 The French Revolution in 1789 spelt the end for them all. What was the real importance of the brotherhoods of Santiago? The development of alternative devotions reduced their percentage within the total percentage of brotherhoods. In Limousin, six brotherhoods were devoted to Santiago of a total of 459. The rest were under the advocation of Our Lady, the Holy Eucharist, the Apostles, or local saints. In the diocese of Angers,

Visiting the Apostle Santiago

99

eight out of 100 were Jacobean. In Rouen, nine out of 293; the oldest – Saint James the Greater, the Lesser, San Christolfe, and Saint Servais – received the Archbishop’s approval in 1537 as a brotherhood of charity and devotion; it was reformed in 1611, and as of 1642, existed in permanent conflict with the brotherhoods of Our Lady of the Pillar from Zaragoza and the Holy Cross from Oviedo. In the cities of Champagne many new brotherhoods were created after the 16th-century crisis, although those under Santiago existed before 520: in Reims, one out of 39; in Chalons, one out of 23; in Troyes, two out of 33. These were the brotherhood of Santiago of Chapeliers (1482), based in the convents of the Cordeliers, and the Jacobins. They had 22 brethren in 1594 and only two in 1602. The Diocese of Fréjus (Provence) had 413 brotherhoods distributed in 70 parishes in the 18th century. Of these, those under the patronage of Santiago did not touch the 15 that were dedicated to Saint Anthony or Saint Joseph. In Béarn, brotherhoods of Santiago were more frequent (11.3%), since it was a stopping point on the Way of Saint James and thus the tradition persisted more strongly.25 In other words, Jacobean brotherhoods were less frequent than those dedicated to other Apostles or other popular saints. It should be highlighted that some French churches had their own bodies of the Apostle Santiago, which were also visited by pilgrims. The most famous was the one in Toulouse, the Cathedral of which kept another body of the Apostle, together with its own brotherhood. Nevertheless, there was also a Jacobean brotherhood for pilgrims to Santiago in the city (1513). However, the most interesting case is that of Angers. Here, the body of the Apostle in the Church of St Maurille was claimed as authentic by Royal Adviser Menard (1612), thus denying the authenticity of the Galician body. Menard’s goal was to create a place for pilgrimage in France, to avoid French pilgrims embarking on a hazardous voyage to Spain, where they were loftily received. The attempt was not successful. The brethren of Santiago in Angers did not visit St Maurille, instead keeping their own ritual. This does however show the context of re-Catholicization.26 Parallel to the crisis of the brotherhoods, the lack of pilgrims prompted French hospitals to change hands or be dedicated to other purposes. The hospital of Santiago in Bordeaux, which received 988 pilgrims in 1660 and 3,000–5,000 in 1660–5, was placed under the management of the Company of Jesus – they also managed the hospital in Pessac – and went on to serve the poor. Similarly, the hospital of Mugron ceased to receive pilgrims and in 1680 was moved to the town to accommodate the sick; the hospital of SaintJacques of the brotherhood of Saint Jean de Luz, founded in 1623, was converted to a secular hospital. The one in Rodez, dependent of a brotherhood, was restored in 1602. It had six beds and survived thanks to a donation from Canon Raymond d’Austray (1662), ostensibly to feed the “authentically” ill pilgrims who could prove that they had visited Rome or Santiago, and excluding the so-called false pilgrim coquillards and “unruly” types who sold their wares on the roads. In 1668, Pierre Mommoton, director of the

100 Ofelia Rey Castelao hospital, claimed that it welcomed 2,000 pilgrims a year, but many of them had come as pilgrims to the Cathedral of Rodez.27 Last, after 1700, pilgrims across France as a whole fell to a minimum.

The healthcare network in Spain In 1507, 1532–5, and 1570, the Spanish Crown ordered the lesser hospitals to unify, with a view to improve care for the poor and ill. This resulted in a decrease in places welcoming pilgrims. As the travellers entered Spain, the first hospital to be found was Roncesvalles, which was active, but in decline and in 1590, transferred to Estella. During the 17th century, Roncesvalles provided around 30,000 servings of food a day (the traveller was allowed to stay for three days), while in 1720–40 it served only 6,000. On the Northern Way, the hospital of Santiago in Luarca (Asturias) welcomed only 12 pilgrims a year from 1731 to 1751, and after that, the figure diminished further. Among these, 65.1% were foreign, mostly French, 23.7% were Italian, 10.6% German, and 8.3% Flemish. In San Juan de Oviedo from 1788 and 1795 to 1803, 109 pilgrims were recorded per year. They came from the same places just mentioned, including Spain. The hospital of Buen Suceso in A Coruña received a mere 210 patients from 1696 to 1772, and none after this period. Of these, 43% were French, 16.7% Italian, and 9.5% German, but it is not possible to state whether they were pilgrims. On the French Way, the most famous hospital was that of San Marcos in León, but it was small, with only ten beds in the 17th century and two or three in 1714 onward. This hospital was mainly dedicated to the ill and the poor, and went through periods of ruin and neglect from 1697 to 1746 onward, as we have no records of the patients or pilgrims hosted, but do of the deceased: from 1693 to 1765, only 87 were pilgrims.28 Hospitals for travellers and pilgrims where this section of the Way of Saint James met the diocese of Santiago were small and destitute. The convent of Sancti Spiritus served one in Melide and another in Fonfría; there was one in Arzúa with five beds, while the last hospital before arriving in Santiago, in the village of Arca, had only two. By 1753, the oldest of the hospitals had disappeared or were barely in operation, and no references have been found to the welcoming of pilgrims in any of them. When pilgrims reached Compostela, the place for them was the Royal Hospital, a wealthy institution to which acceptance depended on three determinants: (a) priority was given to ill locals, according to town policy, as previously mentioned; (b) space in the premises – in 1546 it had seven wards, three at the end of the 17th century, five in 1710, three again in 1748, 19 in the crisis of 1769 which persisted until 1771; (c) and financial capacity, since it was dependent on the Voto from the far-off Kingdom of Granada, and money was not so forthcoming. The hospital underwent a serious crisis at the end of the 16th and turn of the 17th century as a result of scant funding and rising expenses after the bout of plague from 1598, which limited access to the hospital.

Visiting the Apostle Santiago

101

Patient numbers increased in the 1630s until the end of the century, peaking in 1655, thanks to financial health. A lack of resources did, however, force the closure of wards from 1683 to 1706. In 1706, the hospital recovered and was relatively well maintained until 1798–1800. The evolution in the number of patients the hospital received may therefore be explained as a function of its physical and financial possibilities. If the number of foreigners and non-Galician Spanish patients is included in the figure of pilgrims and added to the pilgrims that were received in the hospital, the result found in Table 5.1 is produced:29 Table 5.1 Patient admissions to Santiago Royal Hospital  

Sick/year

Foreigners

Spanish

1631–42 1655–62 1675–9 1699–1709 1710–20 1750–3 1798–1800

636 1,326 1,148 801 1,153 951 893

2.1/10.0 26/41 2.3/9.8 4/8.8 2.4/4 5.1/6.3 0.6/1.4

6/12.5 3/4.9 1.8/32.5 3.1/15.2 3.7/16.5 8.1/11.2 0.8/1.1

Source: Ofelia Rey Castelao

One portion of the patients admitted were Spanish from areas near Galicia, such as Tierra de Campos, Asturias, and León. This percentage increased as of 1675, but there is no evidence that they were pilgrims. Foreigners reached their peak from 1655 to 1662, and in some years, amounted to 41% of those admitted. Over 70% were French and the rest came from the southern Netherlands, Portugal, and Italy; the Irish were in fact refugees. The French came from areas including Paris (16.3%), Auvergne (12.4%), the Pays de Loire (11.4%), the Centre (9.5%), Aquitaine (8.1%), Rhône-Alpes (7.6%), Burgundy (5.7%), and Midi-Pyrenees (5.3%). Many of them came from urban settings, perhaps under the infuence of the Pilgrim brotherhoods; others from ports connected with Galicia, such as Nantes or Bordeaux; while others came from locations set on the different routes of the Way of Saint James. Inhabitants of rural areas came from the north and west of the Bassin of Paris, straight to the end of Brittany and Anjou. The fux of people and goods on the roads and circulation of information, soldiers, and hawkers were noteworthy in these areas. Rural inhabitants also came from the valleys of the Pyrenees, Auvergne, Forez, and Limousin, which were areas with a high rate of temporary migrants to Spain.30 These would take advantage of those travelling to trade medals, pictures, and indulgences, notwithstanding religious and cultural reasons as well.31 In the second half of the 17th century, more than 8,000 foreign pilgrims came to Santiago, a noteworthy figure. This fell to 103 a year from 1631 to 1643, however, and 136 from 1675 to 1679; the highest figure was 485 from

102 Ofelia Rey Castelao 1655 to 1662, which included two Jubilee years (See Table 5.2). The decline was primarily due to the French, who became less frequent following the measures of control established by Louis XIV (1665) and in the aftermath of the wars. The decline was very marked in subsequent years: from 27 to 51 per year in 1710–20, 117 in 1727–8, and then even fewer, 50 a year. These figures are much lower than those of Rome, a city ten times the size of Santiago de Compostela, at least in inhabitants. The figure is also far lower than the figures for the shrine of Our Lady of Einsiedeln, in Switzerland, Loreto, and even Sainte-Reine, a late French shrine.32 Table 5.2 Patient admissions to different hospitals  

XVII 1625 1650 1675 1700 1725 1750 1760–70 1775

Royal Pilgrims’ Chapel Hospital Hospital of the Santiago de Rome French Compostela Loreto

Chapel of the Belgian Loreto

Chapel Einsiedeln Hospital Hospital of the Switzerland of Sainte- of German Reine  Rubiera Loreto 11,000

103 484 136 50 117 57 9

200,000 160,000 115,000 100,000 85,000 137,000 1,350 100,000 2,002

295 260,000 300 240

3,000 2,180

384

1,979 9,000

88

Source: Ofelia Rey Castelao

The data in the figures for passing points on the way are not much more favourable. In the Hospice of the Holy Cross in Nuremberg, 53.3% of the housed pilgrims were on their way to Rome, with only 5% on their way to Santiago from 1723 to 1783, accounting for fewer than ten per year. At the Opera di San Jacopo de Pistoia, 76 people a year displayed a compostela in 1753–9,33 accounting for 22.8% of housed pilgrims; from 1760 to 1764: 78.8 (38%), 1765–9: 51 (31.2%), 1770–4: 88.4 (41.1%), 1775–9: 71.4 (21.5%), 1780–92: 15 (18.8%), and 1793–6: 9.5 (% irrelevant). The Cathedral of Pistoia kept the relic of one of Santiago’s mastoid processes, which in itself was an object for pilgrimages. The fact that this centre also gave alms to those who proved they had gone to Santiago sheds doubt on the authenticity of the figure, however. In the hospital of Mercy at Livorno, 21 (1.1%) pilgrims received in 1752–65 were on their way to Santiago, while all the others were on their way to Rome and Loreto; none were registered in Arezzo or Raducifani. In the Easter procession of the brotherhood of Santiago in Bologna, 70 to 80 pilgrims were registered until 1775–9, around 40 until 1792 and 9.5 in 1793–5. As for France, the records of the hospital of Saint Eutrope de Dax show no pilgrims until 1712–13, 29 in 1712–13, 207 in 1713, and 584 in 1714. While from 1764 to 1784, the hospital of Pau registered only 57, most of them male, and almost all over 60 years

Visiting the Apostle Santiago

103

old.34 All these data show that the pilgrimage to Santiago was markedly low compared with others.

Epilogue: the actions of the modern state Actions taken by the state also influenced the pilgrimage, although in a contradictory way. On the one hand, their pace was affected by internal wars – of religion in France, the Netherlands, Portugal, and Catalonia – and external – between Habsburg and France, the Thirty Years War, the war of the Spanish Succession, and so on – until the French Revolution and subsequent wars closed the roads. On the other hand, deserters would use pilgrimages as a means to disappear. Meanwhile, the split between civil and canonical law eliminated pilgrimages as a means for outlaws to redeem themselves and monarchies imposed strong measures of control to prevent movements among populations that disturbed the establishment and could disrupt order.35 Paradoxically, some monarchies, such as the French, effectively used the image of the pilgrim king, visitor to the most deeply symbolic shrines of his kingdom, while they promoted internal pilgrimages as a weapon for Catholic reconquest.36 Pilgrims were most often regarded as marauding wayfarers who needed to be kept in check. In Spain, Carlos V and his successors sought to prevent their entrance to the country. A Royal Decree of 1540 restricted begging and vagrancy to respond to insecurity in the cities and drove out all those who did not have accreditation as poor inhabitants of the town. In 1580, Felipe II closed the borders and banned pilgrims from wandering off the Way in 1590. By then, Spain had enclosed itself within its Catholic limits, with Protestant Europe in the North and the threatening presence of Islam to the South. Such decisions were endorsed by many: Cristóbal Pérez de Herrera (The refuge of the poor, 1598), believed that “eight to ten thousand French, Gascons and people from other nations” crossed the borders under the cover of pilgrimages. These could indeed be heretics, who took the alms they received back to their own countries. Correspondingly, Huarte de San Juan (1603) wrote that the pilgrims were “banished” and that hospitals were “burrows for thieves”. Friar Juan D. Fernández Portocarrero, abbot of Villafranca, decried pilgrims’ lack of external signs of devotion and also complained that pilgrims stole the alms from the poor to line the pockets of the enemies of Spain, all in 1621.37 Back in France, King Henry II imposed penalties in 1564 on those who went on second pilgrimages, suspecting vagrancy or abandonment of family duties. However, there was no effective control until the laws enforced by Louis XIV’s standards, which were quickly taken up by other 18th-century kings and issued in 1664 to curb vagrancy in general. The order of 25 July 1665 formally forbade the departure of minors unless they had a passport signed by the King and parental permission issued by a royal judge. Without this passport, any such minor ran the risk of being arrested as vagrant. It was

104 Ofelia Rey Castelao apparently feared that youngsters could fall into crime. From 1671 onward, pilgrims were forced to clarify their intentions to the Bishop and acquire family leave and a certificate from the local authorities. On 1 January 1686, severe sentences were imposed on those who did not display such documents. In 1717, the ban on pilgrimage was complete, and the old orders were reissued in 1724, 1730 and 1738, 1769 and 1771.38 The Crown intended to reduce the absence of craftsmen or their apprentices and family members, either children or parents, to eradicate vagrancy to reassure the aristocracy, and above all, to keep young men available for military recruitment. Each of the orders came when France foresaw war; consternation that young men might use the pilgrimages a means to defect or to enrol in enemy armies may be felt. The reiteration of these rules could be explained by their failure to be enforced, although they are not all identical and the territories that initially did not apply them finally issued them as well. This is what happened in Béarn, where these regulations were imposed in 1763 when the general Contrôleur de Pau attempted to curb the many migrants moving on to Spain. Of those arrested from 1769 to 1789, 6.6% were pilgrims. Those arrested in other parts of France were deserters, workless, beggars, or displayed false compostelas. Nevertheless, these data come from the second half of the 18th century, when the entire notion of pilgrimage fell into decline.

Notes 1 López, “El Camino”; Jacomet, “Pèlerinage”, 172; González, “Los avatares”, and González, “¿Normalidad o excepción?”. 2 Rey, “Le chemin”. Project financed by the Spanish Ministry of Economy, Industry and Competitiveness, HAR2015–64014-C3–3-R, and FEDER 2014–2020. 3 Julia, Le voyage. 4 Julia, “Gagner”, and Julia, “Pour une géographie”. 5 Fabre, “‘Ils iront en pèlerinage’”. 6 Bercé, Lorette, and Vincent, Identités. 7 Itinéraires, Froeschlé-Chopard. 8 Julia, “Le pèlerinage”, 271. 9 Maes, Les livrets. 10 Martin, Pèlerins, 17–18. 11 Barreiro and Rey, Pobres. 12 Portela, Historia. 13 Rey, El Voto. 14 Rey, Les mythes. 15 Archive of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela (ACS), P 100, fs. 33r–34v, 8 April 1587; IG 0560, fs. 175v–176r, 3 June 1605. 16 Rey, “Los jesuitas”. 17 Julia, Le voyage. 18 Julia, “Pour une géographie”, 28–46. 19 Archive of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela (ACS), P 34, f. 149r, 24 June 1565; P 35, fs. 575r–v, 4 May 1565. 20 Archive of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela (ACS), IG 0558, fs. 123r–v, 14 September 1601; fs. 130v–131r, 3 November 1601. 21 Archive of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela (ACS), IG 0561, fs. 68r–69r, 29 January 1610; fs. 81r–v, 20 March 1610; fs. 139v–140r, 14 October 1610.

Visiting the Apostle Santiago

105

22 Rey, “La disputa”. 23 Froeschlé-Chopard, Dieu pour tous. 24 Durand, Les Grands Carmes, 175; Bonnaud, “Confrérie”, 178; Tintou, “Coutumes”; Venard, Les confréries, 73, and Daux, Le Pèlerinage, 59. 25 See note 24, and Simiz, Confréries; Froeschlé-Chopard, Espace, and Desplat, Pau, etc. 26 Toulouse sur les chemins; Monga, “De Saint-Sernin”; Matz, “Les confréries”, and Matz, “La confrérie”. 27 Nougaret, Hôpitaux, 47, 59, 212. 28 López, “Peregrinos”, 131, and Pérez, “La vertiente”. 29 Barreiro and Rey, Pobres. 30 Provost, “Identité”. 31 Lebrun, “La place”. 32 Julia, “Gagner”, 328–46, and Boutry and Julia, Reine, 250–2. 33 A compostela is a certificate stating that the person named has visited the cathedral in Santiago for a pious purpose. 34 Julia, “Pour une géographie”, 58–9; Duhamelle, “Les pèlerins”; Artioli, “Le long”, and Desplat, Pau, 1159. 35 Rousseaux, “Religion”. 36 Brian, “Le roi”. 37 Barreiro and Rey, Pobres, 32–3. 38 Belmas, “L’interdiction”; Landi, “Législations”, and Chantre, D’Hollander, and Grévy, Politiques.

Sources and bibliography Archive of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela (ACS), IG 0558, fs. 123r-v, 14 September 1601; fs. 130v-131r, 3 November 1601. Archive of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela (ACS), IG 0560, fs. 175v-176r, 3 June 1605. Archive of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela (ACS), IG 0561, fs. 68r-69r, 29 January 1610; fs. 81r-v, 20 March 1610; fs. 139v-140r, 14 October 1610. Archive of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela (ACS), P 34, fs. 149r-v, 24 June 1565. Archive of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela (ACS), P 35, fs. 575r-v, 4 May 1565. Archive of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela (ACS), P 100, fs. 33r-34v, 8 April 1587. Artioli, L. “Le long de la via Emilia: les hôpitaux de pèlerins entre XVIe et XVIIIe siècle”. In Rendre ses vœux: les identités pèlerines dans l’Europe moderne (XVIeXVIIIe siècle), directed by P. Boutry, P.-A. Fabre, and D. Julia, 15–38. Civilisations et Societés 100. Paris: Éditions de l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 2000. Barreiro Mallón, B., and O. Rey Castelao. Pobres, Peregrinos y Enfermos: la red asistencial gallega en el Antiguo Régimen. Santiago de Compostela: Consorcio de Santiago; Vigo: Nigra, 1998. Belmas, E. “L’interdiction des pèlerinages à l’étranger (XVIIe-XVIIIe siècles)”. In Mélanges à la mémoire de Michel Péronnet, directed by J. Fouilleron, and H. Michel. Vol. 1: Clergé, identité et fidélité catholiques, 485–98. Montpellier: Centre d’histoire moderne et contemporaine de l’Europe méditerranéenne et de ses périphéries, Université Montpellier III, 2006.

106 Ofelia Rey Castelao Bercé, Y.-M. Lorette aux XVIe et XVIIe siècles: histoire du plus grand pèlerinage des temps modernes. Paris: Presses de l’Université Paris-Sorbonne, 2011. Bonnaud, L. “Confrérie des Pèlerins de Saint-Jacques à Limoges au XVIIe siècle”. Bulletin de la Société Archéologique et Historique du Limousin 127 (1999): 179–207. Boutry, P., and D. Julia, dirs. Reine au mont Auxois: le culte et le pèlerinage de sainte Reine des origines à nos jours. Dijon: Ville de Dijon; Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1997. Brian, I. “Le roi pèlerin: pèlerinages royaux dans la France moderne”. In Rendre ses vœux: les identités pèlerines dans l’Europe moderne (XVIe-XVIIIe siècle), directed by P. Boutry, P.-A. Fabre, and D. Julia, 363–78. Civilisations et Societés 100. Paris: Éditions de l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 2000. Chantre, L., P. D’Hollander, and J. Grévy, dirs. Politiques du pèlerinage, du XVIIe siècle à nos jours. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2014. Daux, C. Le Pèlerinage à Compostelle et la Confrérie des Pèlerins de Monseigneur Saint-Jacques de Moissac. Paris: Honoré Champion, 1898. Desplat, C. Pau et le Béarn au XVIIIe siècle: deux cent mille provinciaux au siècle des Lumières. Biarritz: J & D Éditions, 1992. Duhamelle, C. “Les pèlerins de passage à l’hospice zum Heiligen Kreuz de Nuremberg au XVIIIe siècle”. In Rendre ses vœux: les identités pèlerines dans l’Europe moderne (XVIe-XVIIIe siècle), directed by P. Boutry, P.-A. Fabre, and D. Julia, 39–56. Civilisations et Societés 100. Paris: Éditions de l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 2000. Durand, Y. Les Grands Carmes de Nantes: un Couvent dans la Ville (1318–1790). Roma: Edizioni Carmelitane, 1997. Fabre, P.-A. “‘Ils iront en pèlerinage’: l’‘expérience du pèlerinage’ selon l’Examen général des Constitutions de la Compagnie de Jésus et selon les pratiques contemporaines”. In Rendre ses vœux: les identités pèlerines dans l’Europe moderne (XVIe-XVIIIe siècle), directed by P. Boutry, P.-A. Fabre, and D. Julia, 159–88. Civilisations et Societés 100. Paris: Éditions de l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 2000. Froeschlé-Chopard, M.-H. Dieu pour tous et Dieu pour soi: histoire des confréries et de leurs images à l’époque moderne. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2006. Froeschlé-Chopard, M.-H. Espace et Sacré en Provence (XVIe-XXe siècle): Cultes, Images, Confréries. Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1994. González Lopo, D.L. “Los avatares de la peregrinación jacobea en el Renacimiento y el Barroco”. In Homenaje a José García Oro, edited by M. Romaní Martínez, and M.A. Novoa Gómez, 171–92. Santiago de Compostela: Universidade de Santiago de Compostela, 2002. González Lopo, D.L. “¿Normalidad o excepción? La devoción al Apóstol Santiago en la Europa de la Contrarreforma y la Ilustración”. In Topografías culturales del Camino de Santiago = Kulturelle Topographien des Jakobsweges, edited by J. Gómez-Montero, 253–73. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2016. Itinéraires pèlerins de l’ancienne Provence, directed by M.-H. Froeschlé-Chopard. Marseille: La Thune, 2002. Jacomet, H. “Pèlerinage et culte de saint Jacques en France: bilan et perspectives”. In Pèlerinages et croisades, directed by L. Pressouyre, 83–200. Paris: Éditions du Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, 1995. Julia, D. “Gagner son jubilé à l’époque moderne: mesure des foules et récits de pèlerins”. Roma moderna e contemporanea 2–3. La città del perdono: pellegrinaggi e anni santi a Roma in età moderna, 1550–1750 (1997): 311–54.

Visiting the Apostle Santiago

107

Julia, D. “Le pèlerinage au Mont-Saint-Michel du XVe au XVIIIe siècle”. In Culte et pèlerinages à Saint Michel en Occident: les trois monts dédiés à l’archange, directed by P. Bouet, G. Otranto, and A. Vauchez, 271–320. Collection de l’École Française de Rome 316. Roma: École Française de Rome, 2003. Julia, D. “Pour une géographie européenne du pèlerinage a l’époque moderne et contemporaine”. In Pèlerins et pèlerinages dans l’Europe moderne, directed by P.  Boutry, and D. Julia, 3–126. Collection de l’École Française de Rome 262. Roma: École Française de Rome, 2000. Julia, D. Le voyage aux saints: les pèlerinages dans l’Occident moderne (XVe-XVIIIe siècle). Paris: Éditions de l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, Éditions Gallimard, Éditions du Seuil, 2016. Landi, S. “Législations sur les pèlerinages et identités pèlerines dans la péninsule italienne, XVIe-XVIIIe siècle”. In Rendre ses vœux: les identités pèlerines dans l’Europe moderne (XVIe-XVIIIe siècle), directed by P. Boutry, P.-A. Fabre, and D. Julia, 457–72. Civilisations et Societés 100. Paris: Éditions de l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 2000. Lebrun, F. “La place du pèlerinage thérapeutique dans la piété des Bretons aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles”. In Croyances, pouvoirs et société: des Limousins aux Français. Études offertes à Louis Pérouas, edited by M. Cassan, J. Boutier, and N. Lemaitre, 173–83. Treignac: Éditions “Les Monédières”, 1988. López, R.J. “El Camino de Santiago en la Edad Moderna”. Compostellanum 37, no. 3–4 (1992): 463–83. López, R.J. “Peregrinos jacobeos en Oviedo a finales del siglo XVIII”. Cuadernos de Estudios Gallegos 39, no. 104 (1991): 131–51. Maes, B. Les livrets de pèlerinage: imprimerie et culture dans la France moderne. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2016. Martin, P. Pèlerins, XVe-XXIe siècle. Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique Éditions, 2016. Matz, J.-M. “La confrérie des pèlerins de Saint-Jacques et le corps de saint Jacques à Angers au début du XVIe siècle”. In Pèlerinages et croisades, directed by L. Pressouyre, 215–31. Paris: Éditions du Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, 1995. Matz, J.-M. “Les confréries dans le diocèse d’Angers (v. 1350–v. 1560)”. Annales de Bretagne et des pays de l’Ouest 98, no. 4 (1991): 347–72. Monga, L. “De Saint-Sernin de Toulouse à Santiago de Compostelle: marchands, reliques et multiplication des ‘corps saints’”. In Commerce, voyage et expérience religieuse, XVIe-XVIIIe siècles, directed by A. Burkardt, G. Bertrand, and Y. Krumenacker, 183–97. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2007. Nougaret, R. Hôpitaux, léproseries et bodomies de Rodez: de la grande peste à l’hôpital général (vers 1340–1676). Rodez: Éditions Subervie, 1986. Pérez Álvarez, M.J. “La vertiente asistencial de la Orden de Santiago en el Noroeste de la Península Ibérica”. In Da caridade à solidariedade: políticas públicas e práticas particulares no mundo ibérico, edited by J.V. Capela, M.M. Lobo de Araújo, A. Esteves, and S. Castro, 81–90. Braga: Universidade do Minho – Laboratório de Paisagens, Património e Território, 2016. Portela Silva, E., cord. Historia de la ciudad de Santiago de Compostela. Santiago de Compostela: Concello de Santiago de Compostela, Consorcio da Cidade de Santiago de Compostela, Universidade de Santiago de Compostela, 2003. Provost, G. “Identité paysanne et ‘pèlerinage au long cours’ dans la France des XVIIeXIXe siècles”. In Rendre ses vœux: les identités pèlerines dans l’Europe moderne

108 Ofelia Rey Castelao (XVIe-XVIIIe siècle), directed by P. Boutry, P.-A. Fabre, and D. Julia, 379–400. Civilisations et Societés 100. Paris: Éditions de l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 2000. Rey Castelao, O. “Le chemin de saint-Jacques à l’époque moderne: une révision”. Revue d’Histoire de l’Église de France 90, no. 224 (2004): 109–30. Rey Castelao, O. “La disputa del patronazgo de la Monarquía: ¿Santiago o Santa Teresa?”. In La monarquía de Felipe III: la Casa del Rey, directed by J. Martínez Millán, and M.A. Visceglia. Vol. 1, 227–46. Madrid: Fundación Mapfre, Instituto de Cultura, 2008. Rey Castelao, O. “Los jesuitas y las tradiciones jacobeas: de Mariana a Tolrá”. In Los jesuitas: religión, política y educación (siglos XVI-XVIII), coordinated by J. Martínez Millán, H. Pizarro Llorente, and E. Jiménez Pablo. Vol. 2, 1249–80. Madrid: Universidad Pontificia Comillas, 2012. Rey Castelao, O. Les mythes de l’apôtre saint Jacques, translated by P. Nogueira Santiago. Paris: Éditions Cairn, 2011. Rey Castelao, O. El Voto de Santiago en la España Moderna. Santiago de Compostela: Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, 1984. Rousseaux, X. “Religion, économie et société: le pèlerinage judiciaire dans les PaysBas (Nivelles, du XVe au XVIIe siècle)”. In Amender, sanctionner et punir: histoire de la peine du Moyen Âge au XXe siècle, edited by M.-A. Bourguignon, B. Dauven, and X. Rousseaux, 61–86. Louvain-la-Neuve: Presses Universitaires de Louvain, 2012. Simiz, S. Confréries urbaines et dévotion en Champagne (1450–1830). Villeneuved’Ascq: Presses Universitaires du Septentrion, 2002. Tintou, M. “Coutumes particulières à quelques confréries limousines du XVIe au XVIIIe siècle”. In Confréries et Confrères en Limousin du Moyen Âge à nos jours, directed by S. Capot, and P. D’Hollander, 51–65. Limoges: Presses Universitaires de Limoges, 2009. Toulouse sur les chemins de Saint-Jacques: de saint Saturnin au Tour des Corps Saints, Ve-XVIIIe siècles. Milan: Skira; Paris: Seuil, 1999. Venard, M., ed. Les confréries dans la ville de Rouen à l’époque moderne, XVIeXVIIIe siècles. Rouen: Société de l’histoire de Normandie, 2010. Vincent, C., dir. Identités pèlerines. Rouen: Publications de l’Université de Rouen, 2004.

6

The course and consequences of the reinventio of the relics of St James in 1879* Antón M. Pazos

The finding of the tomb that gave rise to the Jacobean pilgrimages took place in the early ninth century at a remote spot in the northwest of the Iberian Peninsula. This event has traditionally been called the inventio, that is, the discovery.1 However, the original remains were hidden in the Middle Ages and stayed so for hundreds of years.2 In the 19th century, there occurred what we might call, by analogy, the reinventio: the discovery of a tomb that appeared to contain the remains from the original burial, concealed centuries before. The story of this event, which marked a change in the pilgrimages and in the structure of the Compostelan cathedral, has been adequately studied and published in Spanish but probably less so in English. I shall therefore describe the episode and also analyze its aims and consequences. According to tradition, the final concealment of the Jacobean relics was prompted by the presence on the nearby coast of La Coruña of the English fleet, sent to take advantage of the disaster of the Spanish Armada in 1588.3 News of the English presence only a few miles from Santiago prompted Archbishop Juan de Sanclemente4 to move the cathedral’s treasures inland5 and conceal the apostolic remains6 for fear that they might be profaned, as had systematically happened with numerous relics in England itself.7 Strangely,8 once the danger had passed, the bones did not return to their place of origin and the memory of their location was lost, leaving only vague recollections and cryptic signs on the ceiling and floor of the cathedral.9

In search of the bones of St James The discovery of what Sanclemente had concealed occurred on a night in January 1879,10 after nearly two months of unsuccessful excavations. Here is how the archaeologists directing the search described what happened:11 On the night of 28 January of the year [1879], at around ten o’clock, while one of the deponents was burrowing in the earth with a chisel around the front stone of the urn, he found two bricks joined together on the latter, which attracted his attention because they were similar to those under the high altar. He ordered the stonemason accompanying

110 Antón M. Pazos him to lift them up, and once this had been done the bones [could be seen] contained in the hollow space behind the bricks.12 As the archbishop hastened to announce in print,13 the fnd revealed the secret of the apostolic tomb. Indeed, for centuries Santiago Cathedral had been receiving pilgrims from all over the world, but they had had no point of reference to enable them to see the relics which, in theory, had led them there.14 Probably, as Guerra Campos suggests,15 attempts had been made to find the crypt with the Apostle’s body, taking advantage of the works carried out in the cathedral from time to time, especially in the 17th century. But since it was not found and the searches, if they occurred, were not openly declared, no record was left of those attempts.16 The same was true in the 19th century: no one declared that they were going to look for the tomb of St James, although exploration in search of relics was normal practice in the late 19th century, the golden age of sacred archaeology in Europe. There were numerous explorations – and finds – not only in Catholic countries, such as Italy,17 but also in England, with St Cuthbert in 1867,18 and Thomas Becket.19 The Compostelan excavations were therefore in line with what was happening all over Europe and their director, Antonio López Ferreiro, was perfectly up to date with current practice in Italy and France in both the technical20 and the artistic spheres.21 However, despite suggestions to the contrary from some authors, he never proposed such an archaeological operation. Indeed, he agreed to direct the excavations to prevent the damage that might be done if it was conducted by unqualified people, as was the case when he took charge of the archaeological explorations of 1878–9.22 Why, then, was that search process begun, when it was in a sense unnecessary, since the assumption that cathedral held the Apostle’s remains had become firmly established in the 19th century and the controversies of the Early Modern period were by now a thing of the past?23 Most of the authors who have discussed the subject, from the 19th century up to the present day, attribute it to the personality of Miguel Payá y Rico, appointed Archbishop of Santiago on 16 January 1874 and created cardinal on 12 March 1877. Through the discovery of the apostolic remains, Payá sought to revitalize the cult of St James and reawaken an urban centre that had been in steady decline since the beginning of the 19th century, having gone from being the most vibrant in Galicia to becoming a “slumbering city”.24 The attempt to reinvigorate the pilgrimages had a great deal to do with a desire to galvanize this sleepy city and revive its former European glory.25

A new, active archbishop Miguel Payá began the archaeological works when he had been in Santiago for five years. He was opposed by the members of the cathedral chapter, who

The reinventio of St James in 1879

111

were traditionalists politically and materially and saw the new archbishop, in almost all his projects to renovate the cathedral, including the excavations, as a crackpot intruder. For several years, we have had an extensive biography of Payá, which uses information from numerous archives, including the Vatican Secret Archives,26 and there are also some specific studies on his actions in Santiago: his activity in restoring both the pilgrimages27 and the cathedral.28 There are obviously some issues, notably those related to the excavations, on which information is still lacking, particularly on the former Congregation of Rites, which I shall publish in the near future. But overall, Payá’s activities in Santiago have been adequately studied. He arrived in Santiago in 1874, at the age of 62, was raised to the cardinalate three years later, and governed the diocese until he was appointed Archbishop of Toledo on 7 June 1886. He died there age 80. Payá had good relations with the Papal Court and with the Court in Madrid, where the monarchy had just been restored after six years of upheaval and revolution.29 In the two great power centres, religious and civil, unlike Santiago, he carefully cultivated public relations. He was considered to be highly regarded by Pius IX, who created him cardinal, from the time of the First Vatican Council, where he effectively defended the dogma of papal infallibility. He was also on good terms with Leo XIII, whose candidacy he probably voted for in the conclave; moreover, they were near contemporaries. He was a man of action, highly energetic, with a keen interest in architecture, which he cultivated from a very young age.30 The diagnosis put forward by the canons of Compostela was that this interest had turned into a senile mania.31 In Santiago, Payá found that the main asset of his new diocese was precisely the apostolic tradition and the pilgrimages. Without those, it was nothing more than a small city that had seen better days. The key to revitalizing them lay in imitating what was being done in Italy, which for some time had been enthusiastically devoted to Christian archaeology.32 And he applied it to the hilt.

The archaeological excavation of 1878–1879 The 1878–9 excavations must therefore be seen in the context of the series of renovations carried out by Cardinal Payá in the cathedral in a highly individualistic manner and with little technical control.33 His first step was to order a thorough cleaning of the stone of the cathedral, covered with whitewash and decorations, “subjecting all manner of capitals, tympana, tombs, doors and other sculptural adornments to the destructive wire brushes”.34 He also improved the vaults, removed ancient debris, tried to restore the dome, and replaced the floor. On his journey to Rome to receive his cardinal’s hat in 1877, he stopped for a night in Lourdes. He was fascinated by the new sanctuary, as he

112 Antón M. Pazos reported in the Archdiocesan Bulletin on his return,35 and presumably he intended to turn Santiago de Compostela into a similar pilgrimage site. He saw the search for the lost remains of the Apostle as the start of an ambitious plan to modernize and revitalize the city and the cathedral as a European pilgrimage centre.

The leading players Broadly speaking, four main figures were involved in the excavations and subsequent acceptance of the finding of the apostolic remains, three in the ecclesiastical sphere and one, though also a member of the clergy, in the technical field. The first, as we have seen, was Cardinal Payá, the promoter of the excavation and of the whole process of validating the finds. The second was Cardinal Domenico Bartolini.36 Cardinal Bartolini would not have played a leading role had it not been for the fact that he involved himself in the process to a remarkable degree, well beyond his official responsibilities as Prefect of the Congregation of Rites, by writing a book about the Apostle and the recent finds,37 which was quickly translated into Spanish.38 This unusual procedure reinforced the Congregation’s decree validating the finding of the relics. The third protagonist was Pope Leo XIII. Not only did he support Cardinal Payá’s request for the authenticity of the relics to be confirmed but also expeditiously resolved the difficulties put to him by the Congregation of Rites over recognition of the relics. He sent a special envoy to Santiago de Compostela to settle the doubts raised and issued the bull Deus Omnipotens in 1884, endorsing the conclusions of the Archbishop of Compostela. The fourth leading figure in the events was Antonio López Ferreiro, “the most distinguished archaeologist in Galicia”.39 He must be regarded as the most important of the four. López Ferreiro, canon archivist of the cathedral, was a novelist, historian, and archaeologist. We have an extensive recent biography of him,40 which, for our present purposes, highlights his academic dimension. He published a monumental history of the Compostelan cathedral and a fine archaeological manual modestly titled Lecciones de arqueología sagrada.41 In political terms, he was a Carlist, that is, antiliberal, as were “the best educated clergy” of the period,42 and openly opposed to the archbishop,43 who was a liberal supporter of the recently restored monarchy. José María Labín, also a canon and also a Carlist,44 collaborated with López Ferreiro in the excavations. In 1883, López Ferreiro published a study on the traditions of St James the Apostle.45 The supposed remains had now been found, but they did not have approval from Rome. The text aimed to clear away all the fantasy surrounding the apostolic traditions and leave one fact firmly established: the burial of St James in Compostela, which he took “for granted”.46

The reinventio of St James in 1879

113

And he made it clear that the search for the remains was not a chance event, as the cardinal said at first,47 but “deliberate”: if they had not found anything, it would have been a failure. As he and Labín explained in the Expediente (file) sent to Rome, what they did was to conduct an archaeological exploration starting from the information on the apostolic crypt provided by historical accounts or traditions, not always correctly interpreted.48 So they excavated at various points following traditional leads, which came to nothing, until they concentrated on the chancel, where the find took place.49 The declaration by López Ferreiro and Labín shows us how people excavated in the period, and at the same time it makes it clear that the excavations were entirely unconnected with any kind of renovation or improvement works to the building, even if these works served as a front for the “deliberate” search.

The archaeological discovery In the final trial dig at the end of January, at night, they made the find, the account of which is quoted at the beginning of this chapter. It was the culmination of a veritable archaeological campaign, conducted in secret and after dark, with many practical difficulties, which on several occasions put the remains they were searching for at risk.50 The circumstances, which López Ferreiro considered providential, were therefore propitious not only for the find but also for the complete preservation of what was found. It was a very crudely constructed ossuary containing numerous bone fragments together with earth and remnants of the old floor. The haste with which the bones had been heaped together, the rudimentary nature of the container, and the traces of wax on the slab covering it suggested that the move had been made hastily and at night, under the threat of the possible arrival of the English troops that had disembarked on the coasts nearby.51

Studying the find The fact that on reporting the news of the archaeological discovery, Cardinal Payá described it as a “very pleasant surprise”, even though he was expecting it, and that he immediately summoned “the Authorities”, the chapter and a “considerable number of gentlemen”, who “toured the excavations and admired and venerated the monuments and bones that had been discovered”,52 merely served to publicize what had been found, but in practice it did not confirm anything. This was really the beginning of the second stage, as difficult as the excavations and more necessary in the century of positivism: to prove that there was no scientific evidence that the remains were not those of St James and his disciples.

114 Antón M. Pazos The years from 1879, when the tomb was discovered, to 1884, when Leo XIII’s bull was published, were eventful. Two sets of tests were initiated, one in the diocese of Santiago and the other in Rome. In Santiago, the excavations as a whole were examined from a historical point of view and the bones were subjected to anatomical and chemical analyses. This was done by what we might call two committees of outside experts, albeit very closely linked to the archbishop, one composed of historians and archaeologists and the other of scientists from the University of Santiago de Compostela. The strictly technical reports posed few problems. They were conducted by three Compostelan professors, all utterly loyal to the archbishop: Antonio Casares, of the Faculty of Pharmacy, for the chemical analysis,53 and Francisco Freire and Timoteo Sánchez Freire, of the Faculty of Medicine, for the anatomical study. Their verdict was sufficiently favourable to be published at the time in the press, with the archbishop’s authorization.54 The committee devoted two and a half hours per day to the analysis from 9 to 21 February 1879, and repeated the examination three times in the presence of the envoy from the Holy See in 1884. It confirmed that the classifiable bones belonged to three male skeletons. Having set aside 365 particles that were indeterminable because they were too small or had lost their shape, they divided the fragments into three groups: one with 81 fragments, belonging to 29 identifiable bones; another with 85, belonging to 25 bones, and a third with 90, belonging to 24.55 The committee confrmed the age of the remains on the basis of comparative chemical studies, arriving at the conclusion that “there was nothing to prevent them being dated to the frst centuries of Christianity”.56 As we can see, the conclusion was approximate, in keeping with what was possible at the time. The very concept of “the first centuries of Christianity” is obviously imprecise. In any case, the analysis conformed to the kind of chemical studies of archaeological remains used in the period.57 The essential point, after the anatomical analysis, was the possibility of establishing three groups of “determinable” bone fragments presumably corresponding to three skeletons.58 Their overall conclusions, established with a certain measure of academic caution, were as follows: One. The bones examined belong to three incomplete skeletons corresponding to three individuals of different ages and stages of development,59 of which those in the first two groups lay on the boundary between the second and final thirds of an average physiological life span, while the third seemed to lie within the latter. Two. It is not possible to establish the exact age of the bones examined, but bearing in mind their state of integrity and composition, very similar to those of [a] Celtic skeleton [analysed in France by Girardin], it can be confidently stated that they have existed for centuries.

The reinventio of St James in 1879

115

Three. As regards their age it is reported that it does not seem reckless to believe that these bones are from the bodies of the Holy Apostle and his two disciples.60 Although these statements may seem very general, the fact is that the data obtained were consistent with the method employed in the academic world at that time.61

Archaeological and historical analysis Two reports were produced on what was found. One was by López Ferreiro and Labín, who had conducted the excavation. They based their analysis on the light that the excavations shed on the various stages of the basilica and the apostolic tomb and argued, primarily on archaeological grounds, that the remains that had been found were those hidden centuries before. This premise, as Guerra Campos noted a century later,62 is crucial to their arguments. In the archaeologists’ view, the noble place where the urn was found, the many bone fragments “which could not have formed there”, and certain materials such as bricks or tesserae on the urn led them to conclude that the bones “came from the Roman walled enclosure where the bodies of the Apostle and his disciples were located in the past”.63 As well as the testimony of the archaeologist canons, Cardinal Payá turned to outside experts. He asked two members of the Real Academia de la Historia to travel to Santiago,64 review the discovery, on the basis of “historical criticism”, and write an opinion to send to Rome. One was a Jesuit, Fidel Fita. The other was Aureliano Fernández-Guerra, an expert on sacred archaeology, whom “the French scholar Rohault de Fleury, author of one of the first encyclopaedias on early Christian liturgy [. . .], considered one of the finest Christian archaeologists of the time”.65 They took more than six months, until 28 May 1880, to write their report, “prompting repeated letters from the cardinal to Aureliano urging him to complete it because it needed to be submitted to Rome”.66 The archbishop also asked them whether it would be “rational and prudent”,67 still in terms of “historical criticism”, to issue a diocesan decree endorsing the conclusion that the bones were those of the Apostle St James. The two experts did not reject the proposal, though they cautiously stated that they were referring to diocesan approval, “for which less evidence is required than for that of the Sacred Congregation of Rites”.68

The legal proceedings on the archaeological discovery The third step, following the discovery and analysis of the remains, was of a legal nature. It took the form of a canonical trial,69 with the testimony of all those who had played a part in the process, from professors to workmen, to judge the appropriateness of accepting or rejecting the proposition that the

116 Antón M. Pazos ossuary found could contain the true apostolic remains. Here the analyses we have just seen, in part, in the foregoing sections were introduced. The proceedings began on 16 June 1879 and finished on 27 February 1883. The decree from the archbishop judging the find to be genuine was dated 12 March 1883.70 This brought the diocesan process to a close and the file was sent to Rome for the Congregation of Rites to confirm the archbishop’s conclusion. The text I have used is the manuscript sent to Rome, which is in the Vatican Secret Archives.71 A copy was kept in Santiago.72 I shall outline the course of the Roman proceedings very briefly, since they are not the object of this study. The documents sent to Rome were discussed at the meeting of the Sacred Congregation of Rites on 20 May 1884. At first the application was rejected and further information was requested. Direct intervention by Leo XIII expedited the process. And indeed an official of the Congregation was sent to Pistoia, Madrid, and Santiago, where he collected new data from those who had participated in the diocesan process. With the answers obtained, the Congregation considered the find valid and Leo XIII confirmed this with the bull Deus Omnipotens of 1884.73 Both the bull and the book by the Prefect of the Congregation, Cardinal Bartolini, on the rediscovery of the remains of St James also offer abundant information on this second part of the process.74 The essential point is that approval from Rome opened the way to the internationalization and European dissemination of the newly discovered relics.

Effects of the reinventio Let us now turn to two practical effects that followed from the reinventio of the relics, local in their scope, certainly, but indispensable for reinforcing the discovery. On the one hand, as Payá already said in his first pastoral letter announcing the reinventio, once the “technical and critical examination” of the relics was underway there was a need to “then undertake other more costly [works] to decorate these holy places and objects, which, if so, will undoubtedly attract the gaze and veneration of both the native population and pilgrims”.75 The archbishop’s plans – let us not forget how dazzled he was by the basilica at Lourdes – were certainly ambitious, judging by his statements, and this was reflected in the press at the time. On the basis that the influx of pilgrims would require infrastructure that the city did not have at that time, it was suggested that a hotel complex be built to accommodate them. This plan was not implemented, which was just as well, since it would have destroyed the historical centre of the city. It was not done partly because it was not necessary, given the type of pilgrims who arrived in the next few years: few from outside the region and many from the surrounding area, who could return to their villages,76 and partly because Payá abandoned all interest in Santiago on being appointed Archbishop of Toledo. But he had

The reinventio of St James in 1879

117

envisaged the aim of having a large mass pilgrimage centre, with hotels, closely linked to the model of Lourdes.77 What was done, however, was to adapt the cathedral following the pattern of a pilgrimage centre with a crypt, taking advantage of the excavations. Once again, the task was entrusted to López Ferreiro.78 Initially, a passage was left clear under the altar and two bronze doors were installed,79 by now in the time of Payá’s successor, Archbishop Guisasola,80 who died quite soon after arriving in Santiago. In other words, pilgrims could now go down to the crypt, which was not yet finished, and see the essential object: a small wooden chest containing the relics of St James and his two disciples Athanasius and Theodore. The interest in presenting pilgrims with the key reference of the basilica – the relics – was clear in this provisional opening of the crypt.81 As early as 1886, a silver casket was placed in the crypt and was immediately offered for veneration,82 without waiting to finish the setting in which it was to be placed. Not even the composite structure of the casket was completed: “A wooden pedestal [was] temporarily [installed] to serve as a base for it”.83 The crypt and the casket were designed by López Ferreiro, who drew his inspiration from Romanesque art.84 To heighten the symbolism, the plinth was cast using part of the tombstone of Archbishop Juan de Sanclemente, who, according to tradition, had hidden the relic in 1589. The crypt was also inspired by the catacombs, which López Ferreiro had gotten to know years before on his journey to Rome: doves, the symbol of “simplicity, purity, innocence, sweet concord”, and peacocks, the symbol of immortality, drinking from a chalice, a clear allusion to Christ’s words to the sons of Zebedee: “Ye shall drink indeed of my cup”.85 The works concluded with the consecration of the altar in the crypt on 2 May 1891. This date, the anniversary of the popular uprising against Napoleon in 1808, somehow reconnected St James with the patronage of Spain in defence of Christian civilization, at time when “our Peninsula, like the whole of Europe, is menaced by a formidable crisis which threatens to shatter the social edifice”,86 in López Ferreiro’s words. In other words, the permanent installation of the relics also connected with St James’s position as patron saint of Spain. It seemed especially necessary in times of increasingly rapid social change. This factor was to be still further reinforced in the following decades. The splendour of the cult of the Apostle was another of the objects Payá had in mind when he ordered the excavations. As in other sanctuaries, the tangible presence of the titular saint made it possible to hold solemn mass ceremonies. In the case of Santiago, attendance was severely limited by the obstacle of the canons’ choir stalls, which blocked the nave and which Payá tried to remove, but without success, owing to the opposition of the chapter. But it was a measure consistent with his project of a pilgrimage sanctuary:

118 Antón M. Pazos indeed, they were dismantled half a century later. As recent studies have emphasized, although relics as such are not necessary for a cult, having them changes the way it is experienced by the faithful.87 Finding or recovering a famous relic involves cultural, artistic, and often liturgical changes. In the case of Santiago, the most spectacular moment in liturgical terms was naturally the ceremony of ostentation of the remains and their final deposition in the silver chest constructed for the purpose, following the instructions in the bull Deus Omnipotens. But the liturgical innovations had already begun in 1879, following the finding of the remains. At the feast of the translation of St James that same year, on 30 December, with the archbishop taking part, there were already “solemn exercises” in front of an “altar raised on the casket containing the bones that were found”, a “sumptuously decorated” altar, “splendidly illuminated” by electric light,88 which was much in favour at the time in both the religious and the secular sphere. There were no liturgical innovations that year, but there were variations in the forms of veneration, unknown up to that time. And after the bull Deus Omnipotens and the granting of an extraordinary Holy Year in 1885, Payá proposed, literally, a great ceremony imitating the consecration of the basilica at Lourdes, which had taken place in 1876 and had brought together 35 prelates, 3,000 priests, and 100,000 faithful.89 That was the goal. In 1884, “on the occasion of the [provisional] transfer of the relics of the Apostle, duly certified” to the crypt, Payá delivered a lengthy, fervent sermon in which, among other news, he announced that splendid festivities would be held the following year and hoped for a magnificent attendance of outsiders headed by the Court and the Grandees of Spain, the Councils of State and the Military Orders, the Chapter of the Knights of the Order of Santiago and nothing less than all the Spanish bishops and the two thousand priests and sacristans of the diocese.90 The plague epidemic that year, among other factors, abruptly demolished Payá’s dreams, but the model was clear. From a liturgical point of view, the great ceremony of ostentation and final deposition of the relics in the crypt was very important for its symbolic meaning and as a confirmation of all that had been done in the process of authenticating the relics. It took place on 27 July 1886,91 two years after the bull Deus Omnipotens and five years before the consecration of the new altar in the crypt, marking the endpoint of the changes resulting from the find in 1879. The ceremony had been planned in detail by Payá, but having been appointed Archbishop of Toledo just a few weeks before, he did not attend, citing the difficulty “of the long distance”.92 And he never returned to Santiago. At the ceremony,93 the relics were presented to the faithful, the professors who had studied them attested that they were those that had been

The reinventio of St James in 1879

119

authentically analyzed, the papal will was proclaimed over them, and they were deposited in the silver casket, which was placed, in perpetuity,94 in the crypt. The press, foreign as well as Spanish,95 reported the ceremony. All that remained was to wait for the predicted revitalization of the former pilgrimages, which would bring Santiago into line with the new mass pilgrimage sanctuaries.

Conclusion An analysis of the reinventio reveals the complete course of a rediscovery of relics, a frequent event in the 19th century, which is what interests us here, leaving aside the problems such events may raise.96 In the case of Santiago de Compostela, we have the full story, from the initial causes to the final declarations of authenticity. It is the most complete example possible, since here there were two declarations, the diocesan, in 1883, and the papal, by Leo XIII in 1884 with the bull Deus Omnipotens, supplementing the first in view of the doubts raised by the Congregation of Rites, which was responsible for evaluating the archaeological find. Here I have confined myself to the first part of the process, in the strict sense. Nor have I analyzed the impact of the reinventio on pilgrimages,97 which I examine more specifically elsewhere.98 The Compostelan reinventio had a highly individualistic component. The decision was made by Cardinal Payá and was strongly opposed by the cathedral chapter itself. The fortunate element in this situation was the presence of an exceptional figure, the canon and historian Antonio López Ferreiro, who managed, on the one hand, to rein in the cardinal’s archaeological incompetence, and on the other, to redesign the pilgrimage structure in the cathedral, now under a new archbishop. The renewal occurred by an organic process, very much in line with the historicist trend of the time, but effectively combining art, archaeology, and liturgy. First, advantage was taken of the excavations to leave the newly discovered original areas visible, where possible. In addition, López Ferreiro had no qualms in drawing inspiration from not only local models but also other Italian sources that would contribute to distinguishing the end result. Finally, the crypt definitively established the model for a pilgrimage church in the Compostelan cathedral. The relics occupied the central place, in accordance with ancient tradition, under the high altar, and all accounts by pilgrims from then on refer to visiting the crypt. The whole structure of what we might call the pilgrimage circuit remains just as López Ferreiro designed it and no pilgrim nowadays is conscious that an arrangement so harmoniously in keeping with the general style of the building was created in the late 19th century.99 To complete Cardinal Payá’s influence on the cathedral post mortem, in 1944, one of his projects, severely criticized at the time of the reinventio

120 Antón M. Pazos but necessary in a pilgrimage church, was finally carried out. The canons’ choir stalls, which were in the centre of the nave, in the Spanish style, were removed, thus making possible what Payá had anticipated, well ahead of his time: mass celebrations which fill the cathedral nowadays, with no obstacles in their way.

Notes * This work has been undertaken within the framework of the research project of the Spanish Government entitled “Las peregrinaciones a Santiago de Compostela en la España de la segunda mitad del siglo XIX: entre tradición y modernidad en el contexto europeo”. MINEICO, Programa Estatal de Fomento de la Investigación Científica y Técnica de Excelencia, Subprograma Estatal de Generación de Conocimiento, 2015–2017, IP: Dr. Antón M. Pazos (CSIC), HAR2014–58753-P. 1 The most recent work that collects the studies carried out on the tomb of St James and its historical development is Barral’s El sepulcro. It is also the most up-todate guide for those who wish to gain an insight into the complicated historical, archaeological, and documentary vicissitudes of the Jacobean tradition. 2 According to the testimony of pilgrims in various periods on the hidden tomb, in García, Secretos, 24–8. 3 An account of this disastrous British expedition can be found in Gorrochategui, Contra Armada. 4 Juan de Sanclemente (1534–1602), Archbishop of Santiago de Compostela from 1587 to 1602. 5 See Archivio Segreto Vaticano, Expediente, fs. 25r–28r (Hereinafter, ASV, Expediente). Declaration of López Ferreiro and Labín. I have used the copy sent to Rome to prove the historical authenticity of the remains that had been found, which is in the Vatican Secret Archives. An excellent description of the reinventio, based on the documents in the Cathedral Archive, is available in Santos, Antonio, 180–224. See also Pack, “Revival”, 335–47, which uses documents from Compostela and the Vatican. 6 See López, Historia, vol. 11, 331–4, and ASV, Expediente, fs. 26r–28r. 7 With Becket’s tomb, for example. See Butler, The Quest, 33. English iconoclastic fury was well known in Santiago, “through the Irish archbishop Strong, who for some time had been living” in Compostela. López, Historia, vol. 11, 308, n. 2. 8 Or not so strangely, bearing in mind that Felipe II had considered incorporating relics of St James into the great lipsanotheca being collected for El Escorial. Santos, Antonio, 183. On Felipe’s plans at El Escorial, see Kamen, El enigma. 9 Such as a star painted over the place where the remains were rediscovered, a specific point on the floor where the faithful prayed, and a place where the cathedral chapter paused in its processions around the ambulatory of the cathedral. After the find, it was said that all these were clues retained in the collective memory but that they had not been not interpreted correctly. See ASV, Expediente, fs. 16r–17v. 10 Though Guerra Campos stated that it is not “essential to ascribe the concealment to the sixteenth century. But of the two known occasions it is the more acceptable”. Guerra, Exploraciones, 124. 11 Antonio López Ferreiro and José María Labín Cabello, both canons of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. 12 ASV, Expediente, f. 11r. The quotation comes from the lengthy deposition made by the two archaeologist canons on the excavations carried out. It occupies folios 8r to 32r of the file on the reinventio sent to Rome. The same passage,

The reinventio of St James in 1879

13 14

15

16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

32

33 34 35

121

identically worded, is quoted from the copy in the Cathedral Archive in Santos, Antonio, 193. He reported the find a few days later in the diocesan bulletin: Payá, “Carta pastoral”, 5 February 1879. Even though locating the body may have been more necessary for medieval pilgrims than for modern ones, access to the tomb itself was already blocked off by Archbishop Gelmírez in the 12th century when the cathedral was built. This was analyzed by López Ferreiro, soon after the excavations, in Las tradiciones, 31–52. José Guerra Campos (1920–97), the most important expert on the apostolic tomb in the 20th century. He was a canon of Santiago, bishop of Cuenca, and a distinguished member of the Spanish episcopate. A brief summary of his intellectual and ecclesiastical activity can be found in Cuenca, “Guerra”. On these possible fruitless searches, see Guerra, Exploraciones, 124–6, n. 185. Where the remains of St Francis, St Ambrose, and the apostles James and John were discovered. Butler, The Quest, 72. Though in the case of Becket the excavation and study do not seem to have been exemplary; a letter to The Times went so far as to speak of the “irreverent and even sacrilegious behaviour of the Cathedral authorities”. Ibid., 41. On López Ferreiro as an archaeologist, see Acuña, “López”. Suffice it to point to the use he made of the Italian literature of the time in the renovation of the crypt, particularly of Cattaneo’s L’architettura, of 1888. Under the direct orders of the Archbishop of Compostela, Payá y Rico, who began to excavate “without saying anything to the chapter” in August 1878. Santos, Antonio, 188, and Pombo, O Cardeal, 1124. During the Early Modern era, and especially after the canonization of St Teresa of Ávila, there was a campaign to make this new saint the patron of Spain, supplanting St James. For an overview, see Rey, Los mitos, 77–86. Ibid., 211. Though naturally it gradually adapted to the possibilities that 19th-century technological progress made available in the area of urban development. On these changes, see Rosende, Compostela. Pombo, O Cardeal. Previously the only biography available was Tormo, El Cardenal. Pombo, “O rexurdir”. Mera, “Restauración”, and Mera, “La capilla”. With Alfonso XII, son of Isabel II, who had been deposed in 1868. Brañas, “Emmo”, 146. “Many suspect that he has succumbed to a monomania for building, which tends to afflict some old people, according to doctors”. Pombo, O Cardeal, 1120. The quotation is from the complaint against the cardinal submitted to the pope by part of the chapter. With which he was presumably familiar, since he had travelled to Rome in 1862, 1867, 1870, 1877, and 1878 on important business such as the Vatican Council and the conclave that elected Leo XIII as well as other trips for more minor matters. “In July 1876 he appointed his personal secretary as [Canon of the Fabric, responsible for maintenance of the cathedral building], [. . .] and in 1879 the post was awarded [. . .] to one of his relatives”. Mera, “Restauración”, 413. As the historian Manuel Murguía lamented at the time. Murguía proposed that no restoration works should be carried out in the cathedral unless they were supervised by Canon López Ferreiro (cited in Ibid., 414). Payá, “Carta pastoral”, 22 August 1877. He refers to Lourdes on 302–4.

122 Antón M. Pazos 36 Domenico Bartolini (1813–87). He was a member of the Commission of Cardinals established by Leo XIII for the opening of the Vatican Secret Archives. 37 Bartolini, Cenni. 38 Bartolini, Apuntes. 39 Cárcel, “López”, 452. 40 Santos, Antonio. 41 López, Historia, “one of the most important works of Spanish Church history”, according to Guerra, Roma y Santiago, 20, n. 18. 42 Barreiro, El carlismo, 294. 43 In 1880, after the excavations, he travelled to Rome, with Labín, to “ask for justice from the Holy Father against the excesses of this prelate, [and] to seek reparation for the wrongs” that Payá had inflicted on the chapter. Santos, Antonio, 244. All he achieved was to be punished by the archbishop. Ibid., 248. But the journey probably served to bring him up to date with what was happening in the Roman and Italian archaeological world, which he then applied to the renovation of the cathedral, after Payá’s departure. 44 Barreiro, El carlismo, 295. 45 López, Las tradiciones. 46 Ibid., 11. 47 Payá, “Carta pastoral”, 5 February 1879. 48 Details of these cryptic clues and signs are given in ASV, Expediente, fs. 15v–17r. Declaration of López Ferreiro and Labín. See also note 9 of this chapter. 49 ASV, Expediente, fs. 8r–9v. 50 Ibid., fs. 10r–v. 51 Ibid., f. 88v. 52 Payá, “Carta pastoral”, 5 February 1879, 53. 53 This analysis was not always performed. In 1888, the supposed remains of Becket were only analyzed anatomically, also, perhaps, because it was then impossible to date remains to specific centuries. See Butler, The Quest, 58–77. 54 Ponte and Rego, La locura, 173–88. 55 La Bula, 157. The complete report is in ASV, Expediente, fs. 39r–44v. 56 La Bula, 157, n. 17. 57 For an assessment of the scientific procedure performed, see Ponte and Rego, La locura, 181–2. 58 ASV, Expediente, fs. 41r–v. A supplementary text written by the same professors, preserved in the Congregation of Rites, shows the difficulty of determining them precisely, due to the small number of fragments available. 59 There were very few bones in each group. The anatomical and chemical report is in Ibid., fs. 39r–44v. 60 Ibid., fs. 43v–44r. 61 In Paris in 1843, the Annales de Chimie et de Physique published a study by Girardin himself and Preisser on human bones from Celtic skeletons found at Rochemenier, an “arrondissement” of Saumur. See “Mémoire”, 371–2. The data, like those in the Santiago analysis, are brief: “The actual substance of the bone is composed of organic matter (3.8%), basic phosphate of lime (80.2%), carbonate of lime (13.2%), phosphate of magnesium (1.3%) and phosphate of iron (1.5%): 100.0%”. 62 “The proceedings, naturally, started from an assumption: that since the Early Middle Ages the body of St James had been venerated in the successive churches that had existed here. What they wanted to ascertain was whether the bones found in the hiding place were the same as those that had been located under the altar and had received that veneration”. La Bula, 154. 63 ASV, Expediente, fs. 17v–18v. Declaration of López Ferreiro and Labín.

The reinventio of St James in 1879

123

64 They recorded everything they saw on the journey in Fita and Fernández-Guerra, Recuerdos. 65 Sastre, “La arqueología”, 466. 66 Miranda, Aureliano, 177. 67 In a letter of 29 May 1880. ASV, Expediente, fs. 45r–46r. 68 Reply of 29 June 1880. Ibid., f. 46v. 69 With the appointment of the requisite prosecutor, notaries, and so on, and with Cardinal Payá as judge. 70 “Canónice declaro ipsas vere et reáliter pertinere ad córpora Sti. Jacobi Apóstoli Zebedaei fratris Sti. Joannis Evangelistae, ejusque discipulorum Sanctorum Athanasii et Theodori; ac proinde dignas fore cultu religioso juxta Ecclesiae praescripta, et altarium honore” (“I canonically declare that they truly and really belong to the bodies of Saint James the Apostle son of Zebedee, brother of Saint John the Evangelist, and of his disciples Saints Athanasius and Theodore, and that they will therefore be worthy of religious veneration according to the precepts of the Church, and of the honour of altars”). ASV, Expediente, [f. 182v] (not paginated from f. 180r). 71 ASV, Expediente. It consists of 26 sections and contains a wide variety of material, ranging from reports to sworn statements and including a copy of the Santiago official church bulletin and press cuttings. The ASV dossier contains nothing more than the bound file sent from Santiago de Compostela. Guerra Campos correctly notes the shelf mark in Exploraciones, 15, n. 5, although he also says that presumably “the original folios of the proceedings remained in the Congregation of Rites” and he did not locate them. Ibid., 14. 72 “Copia del expediente instruido acerca de la autenticidad de las Sdas. Reliquias de Santiago Apóstol. Manuscrito inédito del enviado a la Santa Sede, al que se le añadió el Expediente romano y la Bula Deus Omnipotens (1879–1883)”. Ms. CF. 51 A.H.C.S.”. Barral, El sepulcro, 401. Barral uses it extensively in chapter VII of El sepulcro, 337–95. For a detailed view of the file and its sections see Barral, “El expediente”, on which pages 398–9 he examines the bibliography (there is not much) that used it, from the initial publication of Bartolini in Italian and the Spanish translation by Rongier Fullerad in the 19th century to the works of Guerra Campos and Millán in the 20th. The index of the Copia was already published in 1929 by García, Historia, 374–6. 73 Both Leo XIII’s bull Deus Omnipotens and Bartolini’s book, Cenni, provide data enabling one to follow the iter of the file in the Congregation of Rites. 74 Bartolini, Cenni. 75 Payá, “Carta pastoral”, 5 February 1879, 53. 76 As in the great popular pilgrimage organized by the parish priest of Noya, who took more than 2,000 believers to Santiago on 5 July 1885, including 400 men and 50 priests. The pilgrims, faced with the impossibility of finding accommodation in Santiago, had to travel back to their villages at night. It was a truly popular and penitential pilgrimage, involving effort, prayer, and fasting, which provided a glimpse of the idealized memory of medieval multitudes. See Pombo, “O rexurdir”, 187–8. 77 On Lourdes as a model, see Kaufman, Consuming. 78 See López, Altar. This is a 35-page booklet that traces the historical development of how the crypt might have been from its origin and the traditions associated with it. The point that interests us here is that it gives copious details of what López Ferreiro intended to do and did in the crypt beneath the high altar, clarifying this with prints by the Compostelan jeweller Mayer. The crypt is practically the same today. In the second half of the 20th century, at the request of José Guerra Campos, the passage was widened by a metre to facilitate access for the

124 Antón M. Pazos

79 80 81 82 83 84

85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95

96

97 98 99

by then numerous pilgrims visiting it. Guerra Campos’s proposal, dated 26 February 1963, can be found in Guerra, Exploraciones, 332–3. “Noticias de Galicia: Santiago”. Victoriano Guisasola Rodríguez, Archbishop from 1886 to 1888. A French parish priest, who made the pilgrimage to Compostela alone in 1883, was able to tell his parishioners, on his return, that he had celebrated mass “on the tomb of the blessed Apostle”. Jaspar, Relation, 9. A very precise description of the casket and of the festivities for the transfer and custody of the relics is provided by “Correo de Galicia”. López, Altar, 32. Although López Ferreiro was in Rome in 1880, he could have had sight of the models he used – St Mark’s in Venice and Grado, as well as Santiago de Compostela – without needing to travel to Italy, since he took them from Cattaneo, L’architettura, which had just been published. Mt 20:23. López, Altar, 34. See Gagneux, Reliques, 10–11. “Noticias de Galicia”. See Blenner-Michel, “Le couronnement”, 68–9. Pombo, “O rexurdir”, 176, n. 59. There is a detailed account in “Invocación”. In its account of the event, the Archdiocesan Bulletin tried to justify his very conspicuous absence on these grounds. See Ibid., 248. The official record is in Santos, Antonio, 904–6. It was emphasized that “the extraordinary procession of the sacred Relics [took place] with the prior authorisation of the Roman Pontiff solely for this occasion”. “Invocación”, 247. “The relics of St. James the Apostle, and of companions SS. Athanasius and Theodore, which were discovered a few years ago at Compostella, were lately transferred with great solemnity to a more fitting shrine of gold adorned with precious stones. [. . .] The faithful came in large numbers to take part in the procession, and venerate the relics of the first apostles of their country”. “Catholic News”. From Duchesne, answered at the time by López Ferreiro, to Kirschbaum, refined by Guerra Campos. They are summarized in Díaz, En torno, 115–26. Guerra Campos also attempted to clarify the 19th-century excavations in detail, given the lack of a “comprehensive archaeological account”. Also missing are the photographs taken, used in the report by Fita and Fernández-Guerra, containing prints “made from viewing good photographs”. See Guerra, Exploraciones, 126–7, and Fita and Fernández-Guerra, Recuerdos, 70. More fully discussed in Pazos, “La reinventio”. See Pazos, “Compostela”. In 1964, given the influx of pilgrims expected for the Holy Year in 1965, the passage through the apostolic crypt was widened by half a metre, following a proposal by Guerra Campos. See Guerra, Exploraciones, 301.

Sources and bibliography Acuña Castroviejo, F. “López Ferreiro, arqueólogo, y las excavaciones en la Catedral de Santiago dentro del contexto europeo de la época: una visión en el siglo XXI”. In La renovación de las peregrinaciones a Santiago de Compostela en el siglo XIX: entre tradición y modernidad, edited by A.M. Pazos, 47–61. Monografías de Cuadernos de Estudios Gallegos 16. Santiago de Compostela: Editorial CSIC, 2017.

The reinventio of St James in 1879

125

ASV. Expediente canónico instruido en averiguación de la autenticidad de las Sagradas Reliquias del Apóstol Santiago el Mayor y de sus dos discípulos san Atanasio y san Teodoro. Año de 1883. (Canonical file instituted to verify the authenticity of the Sacred Relics of the Apostle St James the Greater and of his two disciples St Athanasius and St Theodore. 1883). Archivio Segreto Vaticano, Processus 4165. Barral Iglesias, A.-B. “El expediente del proceso de reconocimiento de la autenticidad de las reliquias del Apóstol Santiago el Mayor y sus discípulos Atanasio y Teodoro”. Annuarium Sancti Iacobi 2 (2013): 397–418. Barral Iglesias, A.-B. El sepulcro de Santiago: Documentos – Toponimia – Arqueología. Publicaciones Catedral de Santiago 13. Santiago de Compostela: Cabildo de la S.A.M.I. Catedral de Santiago, 2018. Barreiro Fernández, J.R. El carlismo gallego. Santiago de Compostela: Pico Sacro, 1976. Bartolini, D. Apuntes biográficos de Santiago Apóstol el Mayor y esposición históricocrítica y jurídica de su apostolado, traslación del cuerpo del mismo a España y su reciente descubrimiento, translated by S. Rongier Fullerad. Roma: Tipografía Vaticana, 1885. Bartolini, D. Cenni biografici di S. Giacomo Apostolo il maggiore ed esposizione storico-critica e giuridica su l’apostolato sul trasferimento del corpo del medesimo nella Spagna e su l’odierno ritrovamento. Roma: Tipografia Vaticana, 1885. Blenner-Michel, S. “Le couronnement de Notre-Dame de Lourdes (1876), ou le triomphe de la dévotion pontificale”. In Foules catholiques et régulation romaine: les couronnements des vierges de pèlerinage à l’époque contemporaine (XIXe et XXe siècles), directed by P. D’Hollander, and C. Langlois, 65–76. Limoges: Presses Universitaires de Limoges, 2011. Brañas, A. “Emmo. y Revmo. Cardenal Payá y Rico, arzobispo de Santiago”. Escenas contemporáneas 3, no. 25 (1883): 145–51. La Bula Deus Omnipotens y la peregrinación jacobea en los siglos XX y XXI. Santiago de Compostela: S.A.M.I. Catedral de Santiago, 2013. Butler, J. The Quest for Becket’s Bones: The Mystery of the Relics of St Thomas Becket of Canterbury. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995. Cárcel Ortí, V. “López Ferreiro, Antonio”. In Diccionario Biográfico Español. Vol. 30, 451–3. Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 2012. “Catholic News: Church Notes”. The Irish Standard, 27 November 1886. Cattaneo, R. L’architettura in Italia dal secolo VI al mille circa: ricerche storicocritiche. Venezia: Tipografia Emiliana, 1888. “Correo de Galicia: programa de los festejos que han de celebrarse en Santiago”. El Correo Gallego, 22 July 1886. Cuenca Toribio, J.M. “Guerra Campos, José”. In Diccionario Biográfico Español. Vol. 25, 20–1. Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 2012. Díaz Fernández, J.M. En torno a lo jacobeo. Santa Comba: tresCtres Editores; Santiago de Compostela: Consorcio de Santiago, 2008. Fita, F., and A. Fernández-Guerra. Recuerdos de un viaje á Santiago de Galicia. Madrid: Imprenta de los Sres. Lezcano y Comp.ª, 1880. Gagneux, Y. Reliques et reliquaires à Paris (XIXe-XXe siècle). Histoire religieuse de la France 30. Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 2007. García Iglesias, J.M. Secretos de catedral: la basílica de Santiago de Compostela a través de sus tiempos y espacios. Santiago de Compostela: Consorcio de Santiago, Alvarellos Editora, 2013.

126 Antón M. Pazos García Villada, Z. Historia eclesiástica de España. Vol. 1.1: El cristianismo durante la dominación romana. Madrid: Compañía Ibero-Americana de Publicaciones, 1929. Girardin, J., and F. Preisser. “Mémoire sur les os anciens et fossiles et sur d’autres résidus solides de la putréfaction”. Annales de Chimie et de Physique 9 (1843): 370–82. Gorrochategui Santos, L. Contra Armada: la mayor catástrofe naval de la historia de Inglaterra. Madrid: Ministerio de Defensa, 2011. Guerra Campos, J. Exploraciones arqueológicas en torno al sepulcro del Apóstol Santiago. Santiago de Compostela: Cabildo de la S.A.M. Iglesia Catedral de Santiago, 1982. “Invocación”. Boletín Oficial del Arzobispado de Santiago 25, no. 1065 (1886): 237–48. Jaspar, E. Relation d’un pèlerinage à Saint-Jacques de Compostelle, faite au prône du dimanche 2 septembre 1883. Douai: Louis Dechristé, 1883. Kamen, H. El enigma del Escorial: el sueño de un rey, translated by E. Alexander. Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 2009. Kaufman, S.K. Consuming Visions: Mass Culture and the Lourdes Shrine. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2013. Leo XIII. “Litterae Apostolicae Deus Omnipotens”. Acta Sanctae Sedis 17 (1884): 262–70. López Ferreiro, A. Altar y cripta del Apóstol Santiago: reseña histórica desde su origen hasta nuestros días. Santiago de Compostela: Imp. y Enc. del Seminario Conciliar Central, 1891. López Ferreiro, A. Historia de la Santa A. M. Iglesia de Santiago de Compostela. Santiago de Compostela: Imp. y Enc. del Seminario Conciliar Central, 1898–1909. López Ferreiro, A. Historia de la Santa A. M. Iglesia de Santiago de Compostela. Vol. 11. Santiago de Compostela: Imp. y Enc. del Seminario Conciliar Central, 1909. López Ferreiro, A. Las tradiciones populares acerca del sepulcro del Apóstol Santiago. Santiago de Compostela: Imp. de la Gaceta, 1883. Mera Álvarez, I. “La capilla mayor y la cripta apostólica de la catedral de Santiago en la Edad Contemporánea”. In El comportamiento de las catedrales españolas: del Barroco a los Historicismos, edited by G. Ramallo Asensio, 149–58. Murcia: Universidad de Murcia, 2003. Mera Álvarez, I. “Restauración artística y revitalización del santuario jacobeo: la promoción del Cardenal Payá y Rico (1875–1886)”. In Congreso José Canalejas e a súa época, 411–24. Difusión cultural 45. Santiago de Compostela: Xunta de Galicia, 2005. Miranda Valdés, J. Aureliano Fernández-Guerra y Orbe (1816–1894): un romántico, escritor y anticuario. Antiquaria Hispanica 10. Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 2005. “Noticias de Galicia”. Gaceta de Galicia: Diario de Santiago, 30 December 1879. “Noticias de Galicia: Santiago”. Gaceta de Galicia: Diario de Santiago, 16 July 1886. Pack, S.D. “Revival of the Pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela: The Politics of Religious, National, and European Patrimony, 1879–1988”. The Journal of Modern History 82, no. 2 (2010): 335–67. Payá y Rico, M. “Carta pastoral”, 22 August 1877. Boletín Oficial del Arzobispado de Santiago 16, no. 586 (1877): 301–8. Payá y Rico, M. “Carta pastoral”, 5 February 1879. Boletín Oficial del Arzobispado de Santiago 18, no. 666 (1879): 49–54.

The reinventio of St James in 1879

127

Pazos, A.M. “Compostela, Rome and the revival of the pilgrimages to Santiago”. In Nineteenth-Century European Pilgrimages: A New Golden Age, edited by A.M. Pazos, 101–18. London: Routledge, 2020. Pazos, A.M. “La reinventio de la tumba de Santiago en 1879: objetivos y logros”. In La renovación de las peregrinaciones a Santiago de Compostela en el siglo XIX: entre tradición y modernidad, edited by A.M. Pazos, 63–86. Monografías de Cuadernos de Estudios Gallegos 16. Santiago de Compostela: Editorial CSIC, 2017. Pombo Rodríguez, A. O Cardeal don Miguel Payá y Rico (1811–1891): Bispo de Cuenca, Arcebispo de Compostela e Primado de España. Monografías 5. Santiago de Compostela: Instituto Teolóxico Compostelán, Consorcio de Santiago, 2009. Pombo Rodríguez, A. “O rexurdir do culto xacobeo e da peregrinación durante o pontificado do Cardeal Miguel Payá y Rico (1875–1886)”. In V Congreso Internacional de Asociaciones Jacobeas, edited by A. Pombo Rodríguez, 157–96. A Coruña: Deputación Provincial da Coruña, 2001. Ponte Hernando, F.J., and I. Rego Lijó. La locura y el bisturí: I centenario de don Timoteo Sánchez Freire. Santiago de Compostela: Seminario Mayor Compostelano, Universidade de Santiago de Compostela, 2012. Rey Castelao, O. Los mitos del apóstol Santiago. Libros da Brétema 6. Santiago de Compostela: Consorcio de Santiago; Vigo: Nigra Trea, 2006. Roma y Santiago: Bula “Deus Omnipotens” de S. S. León XIII sobre el cuerpo del Apóstol Santiago, edited and translated by J. Guerra Campos. Santiago de Compostela: Junta Organizadora del Año Santo Compostelano 1954, 1953. Romero Samper, M. “Reinventio y tradición jacobea en la prensa británica”. In La renovación de las peregrinaciones a Santiago de Compostela en el siglo XIX: entre tradición y modernidad, edited by A.M. Pazos, 87–122. Monografías de Cuadernos de Estudios Gallegos 16. Santiago de Compostela: Editorial CSIC, 2017. Rosende Valdés, A.A. Compostela 1780–1907: una aproximación a la ciudad decimonónica. Santiago de Compostela: Teófilo Edicións, Consorcio de Santiago, 2013. Santos Fernández, C. Antonio López Ferreiro [1837–1910]: canónigo compostelano, historiador y novelista. Colección histórico-documental de la Iglesia Compostelana 5. Santiago de Compostela: Cabildo de la S.A.M.I. Catedral, Consorcio de Santiago, Alvarellos Editora, 2012. Sastre de Diego, I. “La arqueología cristiana española en Roma”. In Repensar la Escuela del CSIC en Roma: cien años de memoria, edited by R. Olmos, T. Tortosa, and J.P. Bellón, with the collaboration of I. Sastre de Diego, 461–78. Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 2010. Taín Guzmán, M. “Cronología, contenidos y referencias del Memorial sobre las obras de la Catedral de Santiago del canónigo pintor José de Vega y Verdugo”. In La cultura del barroco español e iberoamericano y su contexto europeo, edited by K. Sabik, and K. Kumor, 499–509. Varsovia: Instytut Studiów Iberyjskich i Iberoamerykańskich, Uniwersytet Warszawski, 2010. Tormo Martín de Vidales, P. El Cardenal Payá: apuntes para una biografía. Toledo: Estudio Teológico de San Ildefonso, Diputación Provincial de Toledo, 1992. Vidal Rodríguez, M. La tumba del Apóstol Santiago. Santiago de Compostela: Tipografía del Seminario Conciliar Central, 1924.

Part 2

Furta sacra

7

The theft of relics in the Middle Ages Arguments, typology, and legitimacy* Edina Bozoky

The importance of the possession of relics has been attested since Late Antiquity when the belief in their miraculous power first began to spread. Relics heal illness and act upon the meteorology; in general, they become the protectors of a community and of a country. From an economic point of view, relics attract pilgrims whose gifts enrich churches and monasteries. The theft of relics is one of the most astounding aspects of the cult of relics. The importance of this phenomenon has been well known since the studies carried out by Pierre Saintyves1 and more recently by Patrick J. Geary.2 In my essay, I propose a typological approach based on a selection of these accounts of theft. I begin by outlining the arguments that the authors of narratives attribute to the protagonists of the thefts, before sketching the main methods for stealing and removing the relics, to then conclude by evoking the question of legitimacy.

Arguments and pretexts used to appropriate relics a) Quarrels over the right to possess relics Quarrels have existed since Late Antiquity over the right to possess relics and the place of their deposit. The authors of narratives shape these arguments evoked by rivals to justify their rights: whether possession of the land where the relics were unearthed, material contributions to the saint (donations, food), or spiritual links to him. Gregory of Tours reports several episodes of relic theft and removal, with the most famous that of St Martin. When the saint died in 397 in Candes (Touraine), a violent altercation brought together the citizens of Tours and of Poitiers. Gregory creates the arguments on behalf of the two groups. The citizens of Poitiers evoked his foundation of Ligugé near Poitiers before leaving for Tours, claiming that the people of Tours should be satisfied with the benefits of the saint’s virtus during his episcopate among them: As a monk, he is ours; as an abbot, he belonged to us; we demand that he be given to us. Let it be enough for you that when he was a bishop

132

Edina Bozoky on Earth you enjoyed his conversation, ate with him, were strengthened by his blessings and cheered by his miracles.3

However, the people of Tours replied that before his episcopate Martin had revealed an even more important virtus: he had brought two dead men back to life before becoming bishop but only one afterwards. They also said that a bishop should be buried in his city: If you say that the working of his miracles is enough for us, let us tell you that while he was placed among you he worked more miracles than he did here. For, to pass over most of them, he raised two dead men for you, and one for us; and as he often used to say himself, there was more virtue in him before he was bishop than after. And so, it is necessary that he complete for us after death what he did not finish in his lifetime. For he was taken away from you and given to us by God. If a custom long established is kept, a man shall have his tomb by God’s command in the city in which he was ordained.4 Upon this dispute, God plunged the men of Poitiers into a deep sleep. The Tourangeaux laid down the saint’s body in a ship and carried him away on the river Vienne, then on the Loire to Tours. According to Gregory of Tours, a quarrel between the inhabitants of two villages in the Bourbonnais was also given prominence. This case was not an actual theft but a removal by force. After the death of the recluse Lupicinus († c. 500), a matron expressed the desire to remove his body to the village of Trézelles but encountered opposition from the people of Lubié (Allier), who claimed that the saint had been fed by [food grown in] their soil.5 The woman replied that she had often sent him wheat and barley,6 and the dispute rumbled on. The people of Lubié emphasized that the saint was one of theirs; he drank in their river, he died on their soil. They reproached her, as she was from another land and was trying to take the saint away.7 The matron retorted that the saint came from abroad, and the heavenly source quenched his thirst rather than the water of their river.8 Just as the inhabitants of Lubié were about to dig a grave for the saint, the matron removed his body by force and carried it to Trézelles. Miracles were to be operated in both Trézelles and Lubié!9 According to the Miracles (Virtutes) of St Furseus (Fursey) composed in the ninth century and the enlarged Second Vita (c. 1100), when the saint died c. 650 at Mézerolles (Ponthieu, Picardy) in a little monastery he founded on land belonging to the duke Haymon, the latter was warned in a vision. The duke hurried to the monastery and begun a vigil over the saint’s body. But the mayor of the palace of King Clovis II, Erchinoald, arrived with troops and asked for the body. He claimed the saint had baptized his son at the king’s request and built him the monastery of Lagny,10 and if he could not bring him back alive, he would present him dead to the king.11 Haymon

The theft of relics in the Middle Ages

133

replied that the saint resuscitated his son and announced to him his death.12 Haymon and Erchinoald decided to resolve the conflict by the will of God: two unbroken bulls drove the body towards Péronne.13 But the count of Laon, Berchaire, arrived with cavalrymen and the intention of removing the body himself, claiming that according to the law, he had been the saint’s first guide when he arrived with his companions; he had provided for him at his own expense and bequeathed his possessions to his monasteries.14 The three rivals decided to make a will of God, harnessing two children age 7 on the cart. They carried the body to Mont des Cygnes in Péronne. Another example from the Central Middle Ages is a quarrel over the head of St James preserved in the treasury of the Abbey of Saint Vedastus (Vaast) in Arras. According to a 12th-century narrative,15 Abbot Ledwin removed it in stealth around 1025 for his foundation in Berclau (Artois). One hundred and forty years later, Abbot Martin reclaimed it for Arras. A monk from Berclau promised him that he would locate the relic, which was no longer in the altar. In reality, the monk intended to hide it and to sell it abroad, but he was unmasked. Just as the abbot was about to take the relic away, the people of Berclau intervened, claiming that the relic should remain where the grace of God had revealed it. The two parties were embroiled in this dispute when a man left Berclau for Lens, requesting the dapifer of the count of Flanders to pacify the people. The dapifer succeeded in taking the relic and depositing in the church of Saint Michael on the entry into Arras. But Philippe of Alsace, Count of Flanders, arrived and declared: “The head belongs to me, it was found on my land, I can use it as I see fit”.16 Despite protests from the monks of Saint Vaast, he forced his way into the church of Saint Michael, and with a staff, hit out at anyone who tried to prevent him grabbing from the reliquary. Although he managed to transport it to the collegiate church at Aire-sur-la-Lys, he was forced to return it in 1173 upon intervention from the Pope and the archbishop. Another version recounts that the conflict was settled by a compromise; the church at Aire was allowed to keep the lower half of the skull. b) The pretext of the relics’ neglected worship An oft-evoked argument is the neglected worship of the relics, linked to the destruction caused by the Saracens and the Vikings. This is the case of the relics of St Prudentius, a martyr who died c. 257 in Narbonne.17 Although a small church had been built for him, the region of Aquitaine and the village were ravaged by the Saracens and the Vikings. In 882, on his return from a pilgrimage to Compostela, Geylo, Bishop of Langres, passed a deserted village near the saint’s church. There he inquired about the saint, entering the church with his clerics at midnight. Upon locating the wooden reliquary behind the altar, he found it to be full of woodworm and practically reduced to dust. The bishop exclaimed: “We would be so happy if you would wish to come with us, O holy martyr!” The bishop’s

134

Edina Bozoky

chaplain encouraged him to remove the relic. He underlined that the place was very small and neglected and that mass was celebrated only once each year. They took the relic away and deposited it in the monastery of Bèze (Bourgogne) in 883. The story of the transfer of the relics of St Vincent from Valencia to Castres (Languedoc) is a genuine romance, composed by Aimoin of St-Germaindes-Prés c. 869. The search for relics began in the abbey of Conques in 855. Monk Hildebert heard a celestial voice that invited him to Valencia where the body of the martyr Vincent was located. The voice told him that the church had been devastated by the pagans; it had no roof and the saint’s body was not worshipped. The voice ordered him to transfer the body to a place where it would enjoy peace and worship.18 Hildebert left with other monks but as he fell ill, another monk named Audaldus took over the reins of the expedition. In Valencia, a guide led him to the church. On the tomb, an inscription indicated the saint’s name: Vincentius, and those of his parents, Euticius and Enola. The following night, Audaldus returned to the church in secret with his companions. They opened the marble sarcophagus and broke the body in order to place it in a bag. But on the way back, the Bishop of Saragossa retained the relic. Audaldus therefore returned to Conques without it, where he was expelled. He then went to the abbey of Castres. The count of Cerdagne Salomon intervened to recover the relic in 863, meeting the emir of Córdoba and accusing the Bishop of Saragossa of holding the body of his own father. The emir ordered the governor of Saragossa to grant justice,19 forcing the bishop to return the relic and transferring it to Castres. The city of Trier and its churches were ravaged by the Vikings in 882. According to an account by Stephen, abbot of St James of Liège, three Frenchmen visited the city’s churches and entered that of Saint Symphorian. There they found the remains of St Modoald’s reliquary. Upon attempting to remove the saint’s body during the night, the party was unmasked.20

Procedures a) The ruse and the secret One of the main methods used in relic theft is the ruse. Such is the case in the theft of St Fides of Agen. The monks of Conques sent a monk to Agen, where he lived for several years. Upon obtaining the monks’ trust, he even became the treasurer and the guardian of the relics. The night of the Epiphany he remained alone in the church and removed the body of St Fides (c. 886).21 A similar case is the theft of St Maianus in Gascony at the end of the ninth century. Two monks from Colognac (Cévennes) heard of his miracles, leaving their monastery upon permission from their abbot. At the location of the relics of Maianus, they gained the inhabitants’ trust, pretending they

The theft of relics in the Middle Ages

135

wanted to settle there by working the land and cultivating the vineyards. Finally, one night they broke into the saint’s grave, removing his body and putting it in two baskets.22 Just like “the ruse”, “the secret” is also a frequent theme in furta sacra. One such example is the heated quarrel to have flared up between the monasteries Saint Dionysius of Paris and Saint Emmeranus of Regensburg. In Regensburg, the monks were at work restoring their church after a fire when they found the bones of a man that they identified as St Dionysius. They invented an unlikely story to explain how his relics could have arrived in their monastery. The first version of the story is attributed to Otloh of Saint Emmeranus; the second version was composed between 1080 and 1098.23 According to this narrative,24 the acquisition of the relics occurred at the time of emperor Arnulf (869–99) and King of West Francia, Eudes (888– 98). Arnulf helped the king to reconquer royal power, before visiting the monastery of Saint Dionysius, whose abbot welcomed him warmly. Arnulf discovered that the saint was unrivalled between all the other saints whose Lives he had read. He informed his cleric Gisilbertus of his wish to obtain his body. Gisilbertus recommended that he solicit the relic from King Eudes, but the emperor thought that would lead the Gauls to rise up against the king. So, in the end they opted for a ruse. Gisilbertus got the guardians of the graves in the monastery drunk. He then took the body of Dionysius and of his companions and put them in two bags. When the abbot of Saint Dionysius learned of the theft, he implored the emperor to return the relics to him, but his attempt was in vain. Together they came up with a stratagem, deciding that the removal of the relics should remain a secret. The story was completed by false inscriptions and letters.25 Meanwhile, the monks of Saint Dionysus were convinced that they were in possession of the relics of Dionysius and of his companions. In the 12th century, the elevation and the exposition of their relics became a ritual.26 At the end of the 12th century, a monk from the monastery composed a reply to the “invention” at Regensburg.27 According to this story, when King Henry I learned of the event, he became very indignant. He ordered the reliquaries to be opened; the relics were presented to the king’s brother, counts, nobles, bishops, and abbots. The king came to venerate the relics with humility. The reliquaries remained on the altar for two weeks. In the 14th century, a rumour spread again that the relics of St Dionysius were at Regensburg. A ceremony was organized in 1385 to open the reliquaries: the presence of the saint’s body was testified to by authentic documents.28 Beyond the rivalry of two abbeys, a political conflict also erupted between two states. The relic of St Dionysius, considered as the apostle of Gaul, was supposed to ensure the general protection of the French realm; on the other hand, their removal to Regensburg could have provided a new patron for the German Empire.

136

Edina Bozoky

b) Unlawful retention The greed for relics often leads to unlawful retention during transportation. When Chrodegang, the Bishop of Metz, obtained several relics from Rome in 765, in particular that of the martyr Gorgonius, on the way back, he spent a night in the abbey of Saint Mauritius of Agaune, placing the relics on the altar. The monks of the abbey opened the reliquaries and stole the relics, however. The following day Chrodegang and his suite left and were subsequently surprised that no miracle occurred during their journey. In the end, they discovered the cause: the reliquary of Gorgonius was empty. Chrodegang returned to the abbey and asked for the relics, but the monks insulted him and refused to hand them over. Chrodegang made a complaint to King Pippinus who put soldiers at his disposal. Despite this, the monks refused to return the relics to him, only doing so when the bishop began destroying the grave of St Mauritius.29 In most cases, retentions are the consequence of transfers under threat of Saracen and Viking attacks. Ademar of Chabannes reports that in taking advantage of the disturbances caused by the Vikings, the count of Angoulême attempted to definitively retain a parcel of the True Cross in his city. Previously this relic had been conserved in the abbey at Charroux; the monks had transferred it to Angoulême to keep it safe. As the attempt to retain it caused the count to fall ill and the people to fall into famine, the count was forced to return the relic to Charroux (c. 903).30 The relics of St Carilefus were also transferred due to the Vikings, this time from Anille to the castle of Blois where a chapel was dedicated to him. When peace was restored, the monks of Anille were able to recover only a part of the relics, while the count of Blois kept the other part.31 The story behind the transfer of the relics of St Magloire tells that when peace returned, monks from Brittany who had found refuge in Paris decided to return home, taking their relics with them. But Duke Hugh the Great permitted their departure (c. 927–30), allowing them to go only on the condition that he could keep a part of the relics. As a result, he retained a great part of the relics of St Samson.32 While transferring St Adalhard’s relics, the monks of Corbie (c. 1074) took a break in Lille, depositing the relics in the church of St Stephan.33 The mother of the count of Flanders, Adèle, expressed a desire to keep them, saying to the monks: You must know that St Adalhard is a blood relative of mine; in order for him to welcome me to heaven, I must exalt his worship on Earth. I will build a new church which I will endow with immense wealth and where I will install monks or clerics who will serve the saint, or I will transfer him to the monastery of Saint Peter on Mount Blandinus, in the castle of Ghent.34

The theft of relics in the Middle Ages

137

The countess ordered the doors of Lille to be closed and to watch over the city’s paths and roads. But the monks devised a ruse, concealing the saint’s relics in a deerskin. One of the monks joined the messengers of the archbishop of Reims, successfully leaving Lille and returning with the relics to Corbie. c) Removal by force Territorial conflicts and wars are very favourable occasions for conquerors to appropriate relics. Orderic Vitalis reports the removal of St Evroul’s and other saints’ relics in the context of conflicts arising in the aftermath of the murder of the Duke of Normandy, William Longsword, in 943. Taking advantage of the minority of his son Richard, the King of Francia and Hugh the Great, Duke of Orléans, decided to subjugate the Duchy of Normandy to their power. When Hugh was forced to abandon the siege of Exmes, in anger he incited his soldiers to lay waste to the countryside, even including the churches. His chancellor returned along with Raoul of Drachy, who had previously visited the monastery of Saint Evroul, and took Evroul’s and other saints’ relics by force, wrapping them in deerskins. The monks decided to abandon their monastery and follow their patron saint with Hugh’s army. The duke gave orders to bring the relics to the head of his army. In Orléans, the relics were divided: Hugh obtained the head and most of the bones of St Evroul, several objects of the saint’s, and charters of donations to the monastery. The rest of the body was given to Raoul of Drachy who also acquired the relics of St Ansbert, which he gave to the monastery of Rebais. The people of Orléans opted for the relics of St Evremond.35 Odorannus of Sens reports how a miles [knight] of a little fortress in the country of Sens built a monastery dedicated to the Saviour and brought the relics of St Patrene and Pavace there in the middle of the tenth century. But another miles [knight] took over the fortress and began to plunder the region. The count of Sens then intervened by burning down the fortress and removing the relics to Sens. Upon a request from Thibaud (Tetbaldus), the count of Blois, he later returned them.36

Questions of legitimacy a) Interventions by the secular powers A very interesting case is a conflict between Béranger, Viscount of Narbonne, and Guifred, archbishop of the city in the mid-11th century. Due to discord with his archdeacon, the archbishop took the relics of St Justus and Pastor away and deposited them in a church in the country, misappropriating the church offerings to recompense his knights. The viscount was unable to

138

Edina Bozoky

force him to return the relics. In the end, the viscount’s wife, cousin of the archbishop, went to his church and recovered the relics.37 In another case, secular powers intervened to legitimize the theft of relics. According to the narrative surrounding the transfer of the relics of the martyr Alexandre (851), the Bishop of Vienne, Gozpertus, obtained several of them from Rome. On the way back, Toto, camerarius of the bishop, stole them and placed them in two boxes along with the pallium and took them to the monastery of Ottobeuren (Bavaria). There he asked for permission from Charlemagne’s wife, Hildegarde, to keep the relics. They struck an agreement whereby Toto donated his properties to Hildegarde, who conceded them to him in benefit. She pleaded Toto’s case before Charlemagne. When bishop Gozpertus went to the court to ask for the saint’s body, Charlemagne replied to him that he could not do anything without the will of God. He suggested that Gozpertus and his clerics go to Ottobeuren and recover the relics if this was the will of God. Gozpertus and his clerics were, however, afraid to travel to this country. Toto returned to Ottobeuren and the bishop of Regensburg organized the solemn translation of Alexandre’s relics.38 b) Supernatural legitimatization Hagiographers legitimize the theft of relics by approval from God or by authorization from the saints.39 In invention and transfer stories, the apparition of a saint requesting the transfer of his relics is frequent enough, but rarer in theft stories. The Life of Berlinda of Meerbeke, a saint living in the seventh century, related the tale of a monk who had experienced a vision. A beautiful young man ordered him to go to Brabant, acquire the relics of the saint and build a church for her.40 The monk became the guardian of the church where the grave of the saint was located. One night he opened the reliquary, stole the relics, and ran away. He then founded a church at Tin in the Rhételois country. Another example is the story of St Auctor of Trier. The saint appeared to Gertrude, marchioness of Meissen in 1113, telling her that his body was in a monastery in Trier, but that his grave had fallen into neglect. He ordered her to remove his body to the monastery that she wanted to establish, indicating the exact location of his grave.41 The narrative of the transfer of St Agatha’s relics, composed by Maurizio, Bishop of Catania, locates the events in the complex historical context of Sicily. The Byzantine general, George Maniakes, reconquered the east of Sicily from the Arabs in 1038. He sent the body of Agatha with other relics to Constantinople, where Agatha’s relics were devoutly venerated until their removal in 1126. During the same period, two Latins were living in Constantinople. Agatha appeared to one of them, Goselino, over the course of three nights, asking him to return her body to Catania.42 The events followed the scenario of relic theft, with some reminiscences of the theft of St Mark’s

The theft of relics in the Middle Ages

139

relics by the Venetians. The two Latins entered the church where St Agatha’s relics were kept, removing them in a basket. At Goselino’s house, they transferred the relics into two dishes and two quivers. When the emperor learned of the theft, he sent messengers throughout the city and its vicinity in order that nobody left Constantinople without being interrogated. The disappearance of the relics was interpreted as a disastrous presage for the emperor and for the empire. However, the two companions left the capital unconcerned, because they were protected by God! They reached the harbour and arrived in Smyrna before making their way to Sicily. c) Thefts prevented and punished When relics are stolen against the will of God or of the saint, their arrival in their new place produces the opposite effect to the one desired. When the King of Hungary, Peter Orseolo (1038–44), obtained the bones of St Colomannus († 1012) from the monastery of Melk by threat, drought, famine, and mortality punished his realm and he was forced to return the relics to Austria.43 Miracle stories report various examples of the appropriation of relics for private usage that were severely punished. According to the Miracles of St Genovefa, the relics of Genovefa were transferred at the time of Viking raids, when Abbot Herbert stole one of the parcels. After suffering several divine punishments, he returned them.44 A miracle of St Egwinus, Bishop of Worcester, reports that a woman had her sons steal the saint’s relics. The saint appeared three times to the woman and ordered her to return them, but she did not obey. One of her sons drowned, the second fell ill, and she became blind.45 Upon the reconstruction of the church of Hexham, after the Danish attacks, the bones of St Acca were placed on the altar. The abbot’s young brother wanted to take a parcel, but a surge of immense heat prevented him.46

Conclusion Stories of the theft and removal of relics are a hagiographical genre: their veracity is highly relative. They make the relics rarer and more precious due to having been obtained at the expense of great effort. Beyond the adventures, we can gauge the extent of the rivalries between monasteries and the conflicts between political powers. The acquisitions of relics reinforced the prestige of religious establishments and also that of the regional political powers. Relic thefts had various effects on pilgrimages. Several relics gave rise to an important cult attracting a great number of pilgrims. This is the case of Tours, in possession of St Martin’s body,47 and Conques, in possession of the relics of St Foy. Both monasteries also took advantage of their location on the pilgrimage road to Compostela. Relics of St Agatha have had great

140

Edina Bozoky

success to this day: the saint is venerated as the patron of Sicily.48 Collections of miracle stories attest to the existence of pilgrimages to the relics of St Gorgon (Gorze),49 St Alexander (Ottobeuren),50 and St Prudentius (Bèze),51 and the cult of the other stolen relics was also important. The count of Flanders, Philippe of Alsace, acquired St James’s head with the intention of making Aire-sur-la-Lys a place of pilgrimage in order that more revenue would accrue for the canons officiating at the church. The main era of relic thefts began in Carolingian time and during the expansion of Christianity, when the new religious foundations needed relics. After the end of the Viking and Saracen invasions, reconstructions and new foundations also required relics. At the time of the Crusaders, Latins came to acquire Eastern relics. In terms of the Church’s standpoint, relic theft first became considered as a sacrilege in 1106. The monks of Monte Cassino wished to consecrate a new chapel to Bruno, Bishop of Segni, in the presence of Sennes, Archbishop of Capua. One day after the consecration, Sennes entered the chapel with several Capuans, destroying the altar and stealing the relics. At the Roman synod of 1106, Sennes recognized his wrongdoing and was sentenced.52 The Church began to act upon the plunder of the relics of Constantinople in 1204.53 The canonists had only begun to show an interest in the subject by the end of the 13th century.54

Notes * I am very grateful to Stephan Morrison for improving the English translation of my paper. 1 Saintyves, “A la conquête”. 2 Geary, Furta Sacra. 3 Gregory, History of the Franks, 16; Gregorii, Libri historiarum X, 32: “Sufficiat vobis, quod, dum esset in mundo episcopus, usi fuistis eius conloquium, participastis convivio, firmati fuistis benedictionebus, insuper et virtutibus iocundati”. English translation: Gregory, “History of the Franks”. 4 Gregorius, Libri historiarum X, 32: “Si virtutum nobis facta sufficere dicitis, scitote, quia vobiscum positus amplius est quam hic operatus. Nam, ut praemittamus plurimum, vobis suscitavit duos mortuos, nobis unum; et, ut ipse saepe dicebat, maior ei virtus ante episcopatum fuit, quam post episcopatum. Ergo necesse est, ut, quod nobiscum non inplevit vivens, expleat vel defunctus. Virum sim us antiquitus institutus servatur, in urbe qua ordenatus est habebit Deo iubente sepulchrum”. English translation: Gregory, “History of the Franks”. 5 Gregorius, “Liber Vitae Patrum”, 266: “Nostrum hunc solum fovit, nobis corporis eius gleba debetur”. 6 Ibid., 266: “Si aliqua de victus eius exprobratis necessitate, saepius ei ego et triticum misi et hordeum, quod vel ille sumeret vel aliis ministraret”. 7 Ibid., 267: “Nostri generis homo effectus est, nostri fluminis aquas hausit, nostra terra caelo transmisit. Aequumne ergo est, ut tu de terra aliena veniens, rapias eum de manu nostra?”. 8 Ibid.: “Si germen stirpis eius inquiritis, ex aliis hic regionibus adventavit; si aquas fluminis ingeritis, parum sitim eius mollierunt, quam potius e caelo manans fons ille restinxit”.

The theft of relics in the Middle Ages

141

9 Ibid. 10 Lagny (-sur-Marne, Ile-de-France) was founded c. 644 on the possession of Earconwald. Fursy didn’t remain there but moved to Mézerolles. 11 “Alia Vita Sancti Fursei”, 416: “Rogat te Patricius [= Erchinoald] et monet, quatenus sancti viri corpus, quem Rex sibi ad baptizandum filium suum credidit, et qui sibi Latiniacum coenobium coelesti virtute plenum construxit et sacravit, multimodisque miraculorum prodigiis illustravit, non differes reddere; quatenus quem vivum non poterit reducere, vel defunctum Regi desideranti possit praesentare”. 12 Ibid.: “Mihi prius coelorum ressuscitavit [. . .]. Hinc elegit, ut patet, ad coelestia regna properare, et mihi longius absenti exituum suum, ut spoponderat, indicare”. 13 In Péronne (department of the Somme, Picardy) Erchinoald possessed a castrum; his son was baptised there by Fursy. Erchinoald began building a church there. 14 “Virtutes Sancti Fursei”, 446: “Meus est legibus quem ducis, eo quod ego prius omnibus in hac terra eorum dux fui, et quicquid mea fuit facultas, ad cultus amoris eius et parentum ipsius tradidi ad possidendum illi”. Cf. “Alia Vita”, 52: “Jure mihi contigit illius corpus habendum, cujus ego primus citra mare dux iteneris fui, et sumptibus meis procuravi: et quidquid meae facultatis erat, sibi pro suo incomparabili amore seque sequentibus possidendum in secula concessi”. 15 Guimann, Cartulaire, 112. Cf. Gerzaguet, “Tempête pour un crâne”. 16 Guimann, Cartulaire, 119: “Caput illud meum est, et in mea terra inventum, meo erit arbitrio disponendum”. 17 Teobaudus, “Acta, translationes et miracula”. Cf. Geary, Furta Sacra, XI–XII and 116–17. 18 Aimoinus, “Historia translationis”, col. 1013: “Surgens, vade, et aggrederet Valentiam Hispaniarum: ac perquire extra muros ejusdem civitatis locum sepulturae Vincentii levitate et martyris. Cujus corpus ecclesia quae desuper fuit, a paganis ob malignorum civium et circum habitantium pravam conservationem destructa, ibi absque ullo religionis honore, nullo obstante tegmine, imbre madescit aethero. Nam dignum est, scito, Dominique voluntas, ut idem gloriosus Dei amicus inde diligenter effosus, ad locum transferatur pacis cultusque legitimi”. Cf. Geary, Furta Sacra, 135–8; Lacger, “Saint Vincent”. 19 He was Mohammed I (852–86). 20 Stephanus, “Vita de Sancto Modoaldo”, 60–1. 21 “Translatio altera S. Fidis”, 294–9; “Translatio metrica S. Fidis”, 290–4. Cf. Geary, Furta Sacra, 138–41. 22 Dolbeau, “A la recherche”, text of the Translatio, 215–21. Cf. Geary, Furta Sacra, 80–1, 145–8. 23 Lotter and Gäbe, “Die hagiographische”, 278–456. 24 Anonymus, “Translatio S. Dionysii Areopagitae”. 25 Cf. Philipp-Schauwecker, “Otloh”; Kraus, “Saint-Denis”, and Morsbach, Ratisbona Sacra, 119–26. 26 Suger, Vie de Louis VI, 220–9. Cf. Spiegel, “The Cult of Saint Denis”. 27 Haymonus, “Libro de detectione”, and Félibien, Histoire de l’abbaye, CLV– CLXXII (“Relatio de ce qui se passa à l’ouverture des châsses de S. Denys & de ses Compagnons, sous le regne du Roy Henry I. vers l’an ML”). Cf. Viard, Les grandes chroniques, 59–69. 28 Félibien, Histoire de l’abbaye, 299–300. 29 Sources hagiographiques, 96–103, 156–61. 30 Ademarus, Chronicon, 144–5. 31 Bouton, Le trésor, 32. 32 “Translatio S. Maglorii”, 792. 33 “Ex miraculis S. Adalhardi”, 864–5. 34 Ibid., 864: “Sciatis, domini mei, sanctum Adalardum communis generis consanguinitate mihi esse proximum; et ideo, ut honoris gratiam paret mihi in caelis,

142

35 36 37 38 39 40

41

42

43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

Edina Bozoky

volo eius honorem sublimare in terris. Unde sedet mihi in animo eum retinere in hac terra, quia ad exequendum quo volo magis hic ero idonea. Aut enim ei novam construi faciam aecclesiam”. The Ecclesiastical History, 306–23. Chronique de Saint-Pierre, 80–3. “Plainte de Bérenger”. “Translatio S. Alexandri Martyris”, 18–20; new edition, Schwarzmaier, “Gründungsund Frühgeschichte”, 65–71. Cf. Bozoky, “Les reliques”. Cf. supra the theft of St Vincentius at Valencia. “Vita Sanctae Bertilae”, 20: “Surge, & vade ad provinciam Bracbantiae, ad locum qui dicitur Merbecca, & de Reliquiis sanctae Virginis nomine Bellendis tenta habere, ut in ejus honore, in loco quem tibi Deus ostenderit, Ecclesiam possis aedificare”. “Translatio et miracula S. Auctoris”, 48: “Ego sum Auctor, qui archipraesul fueram Treverorum; nunc autem anima mea in caelestibus infulatur, corpus meum vero Treveris requiescit [. . .]. Decrevi igitur divinae dispositionis instinctu, quod corpus meum, Treveris tam incurate reconditum, huc ad tuos terminus, ubi monasterium, sacro Pneumata inspirante, fundare dispones, honorifice transferatur”. Mauritius, “Historia translationis”, 638: “Cui videlicet Gisleberto [. . .] per nocturnam visionem se beatissima Virgo & Martyr Agatha semel & iterum atque tertio repraesentans praecepit, vt se ab ecclesia, in qua iacebat, latenter ablatam, Cataniam, vbi pro Christo fuerat coronate martyrio, reportaret”. Cf. Oldfield, Sanctity and Pilgrimage, 153–63. Erchenfridus, “De miraculis”, 678. “Miracula S. Genovefae”, 149. “Libri Secundi de Miraculis”, 45–6. “Vita et miracula S. Accae”, 975–6. Van Dam, Saints and Their Miracles, 13–28, 116–49. Di Giovanni,“The Religious Feast”, and Catanzaro and Mangiameli,“Sant’Agata a Catania”. Cf. n. 29. “De Pallio S. Alexandri”, 20–1. “De S. Prudentio Martyre”. Petrus, “Chronica”, 774. Herrmann-Mascard, Les reliques, 394–7. Ibid., 398–9.

Sources and bibliography Ademarus Cabannensis. Chronicon, edited by P. Bourgain-Hemeryck, R. Landes, and G. Pon. Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis 129. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1999. Aimoinus, monachus Sangermanensis. “Historia translationis sancti Vincentii levitae et martyris”. In Patrologia Latina, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 126, cols. 1011–28. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1852. “Alia Vita Sancti Fursei”. In Acta Sanctorum. Ianuari. Vol. 2, 52. Antwerp: Ioannem Baptistam Verdussen, 1684. Anonymus Ratisbonensis. “Translatio S. Dionysii Areopagitae”. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores, edited by G.H. Pertz. Vol. 11, 351–71. Hanover: Impensis Bibliopolii Aulici Hahniani, 1854. Bouton, A. Le trésor de saint Calais: étude historique et archéologique sur la découverte des reliques et du suaire de Carilephus. Le Mans: Imprimerie Monnoyer, 1954.

The theft of relics in the Middle Ages

143

Bozoky, E. “Les reliques et le pouvoir des princes territoriaux, IXe-XIIe siècles: politique et représentation”. Hagiographica 13 (2006): 73–94. Catanzaro, R., and R. Mangiameli. “Sant’Agata a Catania tra religiosità e giochi di potere”. Il Mulino 1 (2017): 145–54. Chronique de Saint-Pierre-le-Vif de Sens, dite de Clarius. Chronicon Soneti Petri Vivi Senonensis, edited and translated by R.-H. Bautier, M. Gilles, and A.-M. Bautier. Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1979. “De Pallio S. Alexandri Martyris. Alia S. Alexandri translatio, unius é VII Fratribus, an alterius, in Westfaliam”. In Acta Sanctorum. Julii. Vol. 3, 21–6. Antwerp: Jacobum du Moulin, 1723. “De S. Prudentio Martyre. S. Prudentii miracula. Miracula s. XII”. In Acta Sanctorum. Octobris. Vol. 3, 340–4. Paris: Victorem Palmé, 1868. Di Giovanni, E. “The Religious Feast of St. Agatha: A Modern Initiation Rite in Catania”. Traditiones 36, no. 1 (2007): 177–84. Dolbeau, F. “A la recherche de textes rares: l’enquête de dom Estiennot sur les manuscrits du Languedoc et du Sud-Ouest de la France”. In Historiens modernes et Moyen Âge méridional, directed by M. Fournié, D. Odon Hurel, and D. Le Blévec, 193–232. Cahiers de Fanjeaux 49. Toulouse: Privat, 2014. The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis. Vol. 3: Books 5 and 6, edited and translated by M. Chibnall. New York: Oxford University Press, 1972. Erchenfridus abbatus. “De miraculis sancti Cholomanni martyris”. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores. Vol. 4, edited by G.H. Pertz, 677–8. Hanover: Impensis Bibliopolii Aulici Hahniani, 1849. “Ex miraculis S. Adalhardi Corbeiensibus”, edited by O. Holder-Egger. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores. Vol. 15.2, 859–65. Hanover: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1888. Félibien, M. Histoire de l’abbaye royale de Saint-Denys en France. Paris: Frederic Leonard, 1706. Geary, P.J. Furta Sacra: Thefts of Relics in the Central Middle Ages. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978. Gerzaguet, J.-P. “Tempête pour un crâne. Conflit pour une relique à l’abbaye SaintVaast d’Arras: péripéties et enjeux (1166–1194)”. Revue du Nord 4, no. 362 (2005): 727–51. Gregorius Turonensis. “Liber Vitae Patrum Opere Georgi Florenti Gregori Toronici”. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum, edited by B. Krusch. Vol. 1.2, 211–94. Hanover: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1885. Gregorius Turonensis. Libri historiarum X. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum, edited by B. Krusch, and W. Levison. Vol. 1.1. Hanover: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1951. Gregory Bishop of Tours. History of the Franks, translated by E. Brehaut. New York: Columbia University Press, 1916. Gregory of Tours. “History of the Franks: Books I-X”. Fordham University. Accessed 3 June 2019. https://sourcebooks.fordham.edu/basis/gregory-hist.asp. Guimann. Cartulaire de l’abbaye de Saint-Vaast d’Arras rédigé au XIIe siècle, edited by E. Van Drival. Arras: A. Courtin, 1875. Haymonus. “Libro de detectione Macharii Areopagitae Dionysii sociorumque eius”. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores, edited by G.H. Pertz. Vol. 11, 371–5. Hanover: Impensis Bibliopolii Aulici Hahniani, 1854.

144

Edina Bozoky

Herrmann-Mascard, N. Les reliques des saints: formation coutumière d’un droit. Collection d’Histoire Institutionnelle et Sociale 6. Paris: Klincksieck, 1975. Kraus, A. “Saint-Denis und Regensburg: zu den Motiven und zur Wirkung hochmittelalterlicher Fälschungen”. In Fälschungen im Mittelalter: Internationaler Kongreß der Monumenta Germaniae Historica. München, 16–19 September 1986. Vol. 3: Diplomatische Fälschungen [I], 535–49. Schriften der Monumenta Germaniae Historica 33.3. Hanover: Hansche, 1988. Lacger, L. de. “Saint Vincent de Saragosse”. Revue d’Histoire de l’Église de France 60 (1927): 307–58. “Libri Secundi de Miraculis Sancti Egwini”. In Chronicon Abbatiae de Evesham, ad annum 1418, edited by W.D. Macray, 39–67. Rolls Series 29. London: Longman, Green, Longman, Roberts and Green, 1863. Lotter, F., and S. Gäbe. “Die hagiographische Literatur im deutschen Sprachraum unter den Ottonen und Saliern (ca. 960–1130)”. In Hagiographies, edited by G. Philippart. Vol. 4, 273–521. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2006. Mauritius Ep. Catanensis. “Historia translationis corporis S. Agathae V. M. Constantinopoli Catanam”. In Acta Sanctorum. Februarii. Vol. 1, 637–43. Antwerp: Ioannes Meursius, 1658. “Miracula S. Genovefae post mortem. Normannorum I incursio. Miracula in fuga, redita, et post facta”. In Acta Sanctorum. Ianuari. Vol. 1, 147–51. Antwerp: Ioannes Meursius, 1643. Morsbach, P. Ratisbona Sacra. Das Bistum Regensburg im Mittelalter. Ausstellung anläßlich des 1250jährigen Jubiläums der kanonischen Errichtung des Bistums Regensburg durch Bonifatius 739–1989. Kunstsammlungen des Bistums Regensburg: Kataloge und Schriften 6. München: Verlag Schnell und Steiner, 1989. Oldfield, P. Sanctity and Pilgrimage in Medieval Southern Italy, 1000–1200. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014. Petrus Diaconus. “Chronica monasterii Casinensis”, edited by W. Wattenbach. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores. Vol. 7, edited by G.H. Pertz, 727– 884. Hanover: Impensis Bibliopolii Aulici Hahniani, 1846. Philipp-Schauwecker, H. “Otloh und die St. Emmeramer Fälschungen des 11. Jahrhunderts”. Verhandlungen des Historischen Vereins für Oberpfalz und Regensburg 106 (1966): 103–20. “Plainte de Bérenger vicomte de Narbonne contre Guifred archevêque de la même ville”. In Histoire générale de Languedoc, directed by C. Devic, and J. Vaissete. Vol. 3: De 920 à 1105, edited by C. Alberge, 526–8. Nimes: Lacour/Rediva, 1993. Saintyves, P. “A la conquête des reliques: vols, meurtres et batailles”. In Les contes de Perrault et les récits parallèles. En marge de la Légende dorée: songes, miracles et survivances. Les reliques et les images légendaires, edited by F. Lacassin, 830–88. Paris: Robert Laffont, 1987. Schwarzmaier, H. “Gründungs- und Frühgeschichte der Abtei Ottobeuren”. In Ottobeuren. Festschrift zur 1200-Jahrfeier der Abtei, edited by A. Kolb, and H. Tüchle, 1–72. Augsbourg: Kommissionsverlag Winfried-Werk, 1964. Sources hagiographiques de l’histoire de Gorze (Xe siècle). Vie de saint Chrodegang, Panégyrique et Miracles de saint Gorgon, edited and translated by M. Goullet, M. Parisse, and A. Wagner. Paris: Picard, 2010. Spiegel, G.M. “The Cult of Saint Denis and Capetian Kingship”. Journal of Medieval History 1, no. 1 (1975): 43–69.

The theft of relics in the Middle Ages

145

Stephanus, abbas S. Jacobi Leodiensi. “Vita de Sancto Modoaldo archiepiscopo Trevirensi”. In Acta Sanctorum. Maii. Vol. 3, 50–79. Antwerp: Michaelem Cnobarum, 1680. Suger. Vie de Louis VI le Gros, edited and translated by H. Waquet. Les classiques de l’histoire de France au Moyen Âge 11. Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1964. Teobaudus, Besuensi monachus. “Acta, translationes et miracula S. Prudentii martyris”. In Acta Sanctorum. Octobris. Vol. 3, 348–78. Antwerp: Joannem Nicolaum vander Beken, 1770. “Translatio altera S. Fidis Virg. et Mart. ad monasterium Conchacense”. In Acta Sanctorum. Octobris. Vol. 3, 294–300. Antwerp: Joannem Nicolaum vander Beken, 1770. “Translatio et miracula S. Auctoris episcopi”. In Acta Sanctorum. Augustii. Vol. 4, 48–54. Antwerp: Bernardum Albertum Vander Plassche, 1739. “Translatio metrica S. Fidis Virg. et Mart. ad monasterium Conchacense”. In Acta Sanctorum. Octobris. Vol. 3, 289–94. Antwerp: Joannem Nicolaum vander Beken, 1770. “Translatio S. Alexandri Martyris”. In Acta Sanctorum. Iulii. Vol. 3, 19–21. Antwerp: Jacobum du Moulin, 1723. “Translatio S. Maglorii et Aliorum Parisios”. In Acta Sanctorum. Octobris. Vol. 10, 791–3. Bruxelles: Henrici Goemaere, 1861. Van Dam, R. Saints and Their Miracles in Late Antique Gaul. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993. Viard, J., ed. Les grandes chroniques de France. Vol. 5: Hugues Capet à Louis VI le Gros. Paris: Librairie Ancienne Honoré Champion, 1928. “Virtutes Sancti Fursei”. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum, edited by B. Krusch. Vol. 4, 440–9. Hanover: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1902. “Vita et miracula S. Accae, Hagustald. Ep.”. In Acta Sanctorum. Octobris. Vol. 8, 973–80. Bruxelles: Alphonsi Greuse, 1853. “Vita Sanctae Berlendis virginis et abbatissae Kalensis primae”. In Acta Sanctorum. Ordinis S. Benedicti. Saeculum III. Vol. 3.1, 21–6. Paris: Ludovicum Billaine, 1672.

8

Furta sacra in southern Italy in the Middle Ages Amalia Galdi

To analyze the phenomenon of furta sacra during the Middle Ages we need to consider the long history of the cult of saints and their remains from the beginning of the Christian era. Preservation of the remains of a martyr by the faithful is documented for the first time with the martyrdom of Polycarp, described in a second-century text:1 care of a body regarded as a precious treasure capable of connecting the physical and supernatural worlds was superimposed on the pagan tradition of the cult of the dead and respect for their tombs, so that the grave, filled with the physical praesentia of the saint, was the place where earth and heaven met. But it was only from the late fourth and the fifth centuries that a theological and philosophical basis developed for the cult of relics, elaborated over the following centuries, according to which the saint’s spirit was present in his sepulchre and therefore in his mortal remains.2 These beliefs, which subsequently became a broadly shared cultural tradition, explain the widespread phenomenon of the dismembering and multiplication of relics, attested throughout the Middle Ages. They even contributed to changing the geography of Classical Antiquity, now marked by places where holy bodies, authentic or not, sometimes just particulae, were preserved, and which usually became pilgrimage sites. There was a deliberate lexical ambiguity, based on the texts of certain Church Fathers,3 whereby the term corpus was applied to (partial) relics, held to possess the same virtus as the entire bodies. The phenomenon seems to have already been common in the fourth century, since an edict of 26 February 386 forbade the abuses involved in the translation and circulation of relics,4 while the warnings by prominent ecclesiastics against the proliferation and trade of holy bodies remained ineffective.5 In the following centuries, the civic and church authorities issued repeated admonitions against these excesses, a sign that the rules were routinely disregarded, while the same ecclesiastical circles also provided the normative basis for their proliferation.6 However, in spite of the attempts to control and limit the spread of this phenomenon, it assumed colossal proportions;7 the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 was still denouncing the sale of saints’ relics, and ordered that they should not be displayed outside

Furta sacra in southern Italy

147

reliquaries and that newly discovered relics should not be venerated without papal authorization.8 Even the secular authorities contributed to censuring misconduct in this domain: apart from the famous Carolingian laws,9 southern Italy was subject to the Assizes of Ariano promulgated by Roger II of Sicily (1140), which prohibited trading in saints’ relics in the Regnum and required an appropriate site to be provided for them.10 Behind the search for holy remains lay the often unintelligible hardships and uncertainties of everyday life in the medieval period, rendered more bearable by the relief that religion offered through “invisible” companions, to recall Peter Brown’s apt expression: saints, of human condition despite their exceptional nature and closer to a distant and unreachable God. However, this form of religious life gave rise to other historically significant phenomena, since the cult of saints and relics involved complex dynamics of power and its representation, in particular through the practice of translationes, which involved several regions of Europe. The translations of the Carolingian and Ottonian periods in central and northern Italy have been closely studied.11 Those in southern Italy, on the other hand, have not been so systematically investigated, and this study will focus mainly on them. This phenomenon affected the whole medieval period, reaching its peak in the central (ninth to 12th) centuries and often turning into thefts of relics: as has been noted, “the boundary separating legitimate from larcenous translations always remained highly ambiguous, partly because the boundaries between the licit and the illicit changed over different periods, contexts and viewpoints”.12 The spread of illicit translations of relics led to the emergence of a specific hagiographic genre, designed not to provide an objective report of the facts but rather to pursue other aims: to legitimate the cult linked to the translation of the body, to morally justify the furtum, as if it had been requested by God or the saint himself and/or motivated by the need for the relics to be worshipped more fittingly, or to safeguard their authenticity and efficacious healing power.13 The famous biographer of Charlemagne, Einhard, certainly contributed to creating this genre when he narrated the translation and miracles of Saints Marcellinus and Peter (around 830–1).14 To obtain these relics, the emperor turned to a “professional”, the deacon of the Church of Rome, Deusdona, chief of a group of relic-smugglers.15 Einhard also provides us indirectly with information on why supplying relics was such a profitable activity, usually clandestine, often performed on a large scale, and sometimes commissioned by the Franks; he himself was Frankish and a cleric.16 Not surprisingly, Roman cemeteries and churches were singled out by those looking for “authentic” relics.17 However, the hagiographers sometimes employed the narrative scheme of theft “to legitimate the non-felonious acquisition of a relic”, since “it was more important to substantiate possession of a holy body, however it was acquired, than to certify the factual circumstances or the philological reliability of the narrative account of their arrival”; however, “a theft was

148 Amalia Galdi sometimes concealed under a false pretence of purchase, but more often of donation or miraculous discovery”.18 Some decades ago, reflecting on this phenomenon, Francesco Lanzoni aptly referred to a “great robbery of holy bodies”,19 a phrase that is also thoroughly applicable to southern Italy. Here I will merely mention some representative cases from the eighth to the 13th centuries that occurred in urban contexts. In particular, the focus will be on a reading of furta sacra that uncovers their meanings in relation to the creation and representation of civic identities. In fact, acquiring the patronage of relics not only enabled those concerned to enjoy supernatural protection against visible and invisible enemies, but also added a magical and sacred dimension to their civic consciousness, which defined itself and compared itself with others, among other ways, in terms of the cult of the saints and possession of their bodies, to which the hagiographic reports gave a narrative framework and appropriate ideological support. This interpretative perspective, which has long been applied to the history of the cities of northern and central Italy,20 has also been considered for several years in relation to southern Italy. The relationships between cities, their political and social components, and their local devotions have been studied without engaging in a forced comparison with other urban realities, and here too notable results have been achieved in identifying civic consciousness and its forms. Before getting to the heart of the matter, however, it is worth referring briefly to the most noteworthy furtum sacrum, with the most far-reaching consequences, for southern central Italy, namely the – real or presumed – theft of the relics of Saints Benedict and Scholastica, which probably occurred between the second half of the seventh century and the beginning of the eighth – more precisely, according to French hagiographic tradition, when the Abbey of Saint-Benoît-de-Fleury was under the direction of Abbot Mummolus (632–63). Taking advantage of the destruction of Monte Cassino Abbey, where Benedict’s body was buried in the oratory of St John the Baptist,21 by the Lombards in approximately 577, a delegation from Fleury allegedly stole the relics, supported by a miraculous nocturnal revelation. The relics of Benedict were transferred to Fleury and those of Scholastica to Le Mans.22 I will not dwell on the details of this story, which I have discussed elsewhere. However, this episode illustrates the value and significance attributed by medieval people to saints’ relics. Our aim should be not so much to determine the truthfulness of the story of the theft itself, assuming that it could have taken place, but rather to understand its consequences. It gave rise to a dispute over the possession of Benedict’s relics which lasted for several centuries and was justified not only by their religious value – based on profound faith in the real presence of saints’ virtus in their mortal remains – but also because the body in this case was that of the saintly founder of the Benedictine movement. For both abbeys – Monte Cassino and Fleury – claiming the relics would therefore have constituted a powerful tool with which to

Furta sacra in southern Italy

149

reinforce and represent their prestige, with significant political and patrimonial consequences, reflected in the various strategies employed by both of these monastic communities to uphold the authenticity of the remains they possessed.23 “A transfer of relics was never a neutral act in medieval Christianity”; it usually involved an element of conflict,24 since as “a liturgical and a political act translation did not pass unnoticed. Indeed, its public dimension became an integral part of it”.25 In this respect, an interesting example for the early medieval period among southern cities is that of Benevento, where the political consequences and meanings of the relic translations are particularly clear, though similar phenomena also occurred in other urban areas.26 In Benevento, capital of the eponymous duchy, later a principality, the process was initiated by the Lombard duke-prince Arichis II (758–87), although the corresponding hagiographic texts were written later (and have only been properly edited in modern times). Arichis carried out some translations of holy bodies, which were then transferred to the basilica of Santa Sofia, the principal Lombard sanctuary. The two most famous events cannot strictly be classified as furta sacra. Forcible appropriation certainly applies to the first, to which I will return presently. The second, the translation of the relics of the martyr Mercurius of Caesarea, was related rather to political rivalry with the Byzantine Empire.27 The report on the translation of the relics of the Twelve Holy Brothers – whose martyrdom is assigned by hagiographic tradition to the period of the persecutions of Maximilian and Valerian – from Hadrumetum (near Carthage) to Benevento was drafted by an anonymous hagiographer, probably not contemporaneous with the event.28 The reason given for the operation is related to location: the bodies were kept in “dishonourable tombs” (inhonestis loculis), so Arichis, “inflamed by the Holy Spirit” (sancti spiritus inflammatus), decided to transfer them to Benevento. After going personally to Apulia with his elders, he found various obstacles to his pious intention to give the martyrs a worthy burial and gather them together in a single sepulchre, so he decided to resort to effective tools of coercion. The inhabitants of the place refused to pay the usual tributes to the duke, who therefore decided to use more forceful methods until they “spontaneously” offered the relics demanded, which Arichis placed under the high altar of the basilica of Santa Sofia. The acquisition of the bodies was therefore the result of political and military pressure on a territory where the duchy exercised strict control in those years. Moreover, it is important to emphasize that it was the duke himself who is said to have performed the elevatio of the relics, assuming a task which traditionally belonged to the ecclesiastical authorities: indeed, the legitimate power of mediating with the invisible was normally embodied by the bishop, who was the guarantor of the authenticity of the pignora and of their correct relationship with the Christian city.29 In contrast to this, a real furtum sacrum was performed by Sico, Prince of Benevento (817–32), described in the Translatio Ianuarii, Festi et Desiderii,30

150 Amalia Galdi by an anonymous author from Benevento who claims to have witnessed the event. The episode can be dated to the year 831, during a Beneventan attack on Naples, an autonomous duchy that the Lombards wanted to control. Justifying his action with the usual topoi – the wishes of the saint, who appeared to a woman, the inadequacy of the veneration he received and the sins of the Neapolitans – the prince transferred the relics of St Januarius (Gennaro) to Benevento, where they were provisionally put in the church of St Festus while awaiting the restoration of a church near the cathedral of St Mary. Not long afterwards, the remains of Festus and Desiderius – Januarius’s companions in martyrdom, according to hagiographic tradition – were also recovered. The theft, deliberately ignored by the Neapolitan sources,31 symbolically sealed the defeat of the city, after its duke, Stephen III, had already been forced to sign harsh terms of delivery, also of a financial nature.32 The political meaning of the event is therefore clear: the translation of St Januarius, the holy symbol of the Neapolitans, developed into a powerful symbolic instrument of subordination of the autonomous coastal duchies, more or less formally dependent on the Byzantine Empire, by Benevento, their enemy par excellence. A similar meaning can be deciphered in another Beneventan furtum, by Prince Sicard (832–9), son of Sico, who took the remains of the martyr Trofimena from Maiori, a coastal town in Campania, as narrated by the anonymous author of the Historia inventionis ac translationis sanctae Trophimenae,33 probably written between the tenth and 12th centuries. In this case too, the setting was a war, an attack on Amalfi and its territory, which Benevento wanted to control; the appropriation of the precious body of Trofimena from the enemy would have emphasized and symbolically amplified Sicard’s military victory.34 The particularly aggressive use of relic translations by the same prince is finally exemplified in 838–9 by the transfer of the body of the Apostle Bartholomew from Lipari to Benevento, narrated in the Translatio s. Bartholomaei and justified by the pious purpose of protecting it from sacrilege at the hands of the Saracens.35 Therefore, the meanings to be identified in the relic translations carried out in the south of Italy during the early Middle Ages are usually linked to a historical context in which political destruction of the enemy and heightened localism contributed to the creation of civic identities, offering at the same time arguments and themes for hagiographic literature. The profound differences between the different political and cultural systems – Lombards, Romanesque-Byzantine populations, Muslims – must also have been factors. During the transition to the later Middle Ages, some of the meanings of furta sacra changed, along with the transformation of the international political scene. In southern Italy, the settlement of the Normans, from the first decades of the 11th century to the creation of the Regnum by Roger II in 1130, also led to a more or less radical transformation of the internal balance within cities, through a process characterized by a number of local

Furta sacra in southern Italy

151

variations and accompanied by the Normans’ flexible ability to adapt to different realities and turn the resources they found to their own advantage. However, the presence of the northern people, especially during the early years of the conquest, created many problems within pre-existing social and cultural groups, which strove to safeguard their prerogatives and reach a compromise with the conquerors so as to ensure suitable solutions. At the same time, some communities were looking for solutions capable of representing the new emerging political and social equilibrium, also on a symbolic and religious plane: they had to contemplate, together, the proud defence of their own history and the search for symbols that could represent a new or renewed political role. A good example of this is what happened in 1087 in Bari, which had been the provincial capital of the thema of Langobardia and then of the Catepanate of Italy under Byzantine rule and was conquered by the Normans in 1071. It was a particularly composite city, both linguistically and culturally and also in religious terms. It was under the authority not of the Patriarch of Constantinople, the leading ecclesiastical figure in the Byzantine Empire, but of the Pope, though in a purely theoretical sense.36 With the Normans, Bari lost its role of provincial capital and was not even chosen as a seat of the central authority by Robert Guiscard, the first Norman duke of the South, nor by his successors. It was ruled, from the end of the 11th century, by the Norman Catepan appointed by Roger Borsa, son and successor of Guiscard, and by his half-brother, Bohemund d’Hauteville. The impact of the conquest obviously produced grave disruptions in the urban society of Bari, whose leading players, starting with the local archbishops, adopted different and frequently inconsistent positions towards the conquerors. The position of the archbishops was particularly problematic because of the claims of the Papacy, since the popes wanted to implement their jurisdiction over the church of Bari, especially at a time when Puglia was controlled by Latin governors linked to the papacy through the Pact of Melfi of 1059. Moreover, although the local episcopacy had its main seat in Bari, where the bishops, who generally represented the local aristocracy, resided, it was attached for a long time to Canosa, so the Ordinario had the title of episcopus or archiepiscopus sanctae sedis Canusinae Ecclesiae.37 However, with the appointment of Archbishop Ursone (1079–89), Bari found itself governed by a prelate probably not originating from Bari and linked both to Guiscard and to Pope Gregory VII (despite all the past hypotheses, based on very little evidence,38 that he would have been a follower of the antipope Clement III). It was precisely at the time of Ursone that the famous theft of the relics of St Nicholas occurred. Veneration of Nicholas, traditionally held to have been bishop of Myra, in Lycia, at the time of the Emperor Constantine († 337), was ancient, though of uncertain origin.39 This event has attracted the attention of so many scholars that it would be difficult to compile a comprehensive bibliography;40 moreover, different and often contrasting opinions

152 Amalia Galdi have been proposed by historians as to the meanings and political implications of the translation.41 These divergences are mostly attributable to the complex and sometimes hazy political situation in Bari in the last decades of the 11th century and by the presence of numerous and detailed sources, which are difficult to interpret, as well as the lack of reliable critical editions of the hagiographic dossier of the translation,42 the most important testimony of the event. There are in fact various hagiographic writings which give an account of the theft of the relics. The most prominent ones, containing some divergent passages and two different points of view, are those produced by the archdeacon Giovanni and by Niceforo, a cleric from Bari, probably immediately after the event.43 There is also a Paleo-Slavic text, the so-called Legend of Kiev, considered to be independent of the other two texts and in certain respects more genuine, probably written after 30 September 1089, the date of the deposition of St Nicholas’s relics in the crypt of the Basilica of St Nicholas.44 The first of these accounts was commissioned from Giovanni by Bishop Ursone;45 the second,46 written by Niceforo, provides the more detailed description. Scholars do not agree on which of them is earlier, considering also that the surviving copies could have reworked the originals;47 both of them, however, were presumably written by February 1089, that is, before the death of Archbishop Ursone.48 The following is a brief account of the translation according to the versions of Giovanni and Niceforo, drawing attention to the most significant differences between them. Some citizens of Bari decided to travel to Antioch to trade, but during the voyage, some of them, by divine inspiration, had the idea of carrying off the relics of St Nicholas. The presence of a large number of Turks in Myra dissuaded them from carrying out their plan (a point omitted by Niceforo), so they decided to continue their journey to Antioch, where they met some Venetians who also wanted to appropriate the saint’s body, and this spurred them to expedite their plan to steal it. They re-embarked and soon docked at Myra. There they went to the church where the relics were kept and tried to persuade the three monks guarding them (four according to Niceforo) to hand over the body, claiming that the pope had sent them and that they were willing to pay. Despite the monks’ opposition, the sailors from Bari carried off the remains, to the despair of the people of Myra, who flocked to the shore in response to the removal of this precious treasure. After many difficulties and some miracles that demonstrated the saint’s protection and his consent to the translation, the ship anchored at San Giorgio, five miles from Bari. Giovanni and Niceforo narrate the journey with some differences, but their accounts diverge particularly in relation to the events following the unloading of the relics. According to Giovanni, the archbishop was not in Bari but in Trani with him, waiting to embark for the Holy Land. Consequently, the sailors entrusted the remains to Elias, abbot of the monastery of

Furta sacra in southern Italy

153

St Benedict, located above the port of Bari, and after three days they were taken to the court of the Catepan. At this point, a riot broke out among the populace, arguing over the area of the city where the relics should be placed. The archbishop returned and the citizens asked him for permission to erect a building consecrated to the saint in the court itself; he then personally carried the relics to the church of St Stephen. The citizens agreed to entrust Elias with the construction of the new church. However, according to Niceforo’s account, Ursone was in Canosa, and the disagreement among the inhabitants of Bari as to where the relics should be put – in a new church in the Catepan’s court, as suggested by the captains of the ships, or in the cathedral, as the citizens wished – led to a bloody conflict after the archbishop rejected the captains’ proposal. Finally, the body was placed in the Catepan’s court in the church of St Eustratius the martyr, and subsequently a magnificent church was built in its place in honour of St Nicholas, a construction directed by Abbot Elias. I will not dwell here on the long historiographical controversy over which of the two versions is the more reliable and which was written in a later period (if indeed either of them was) to adapt a report of the events to a different historical situation serving particular interests.49 Admittedly, Giovanni was close to the archbishop and in his story the figure of Ursone certainly emerges in a more positive light than in Niceforo’s account and is also uninvolved in the dispute over where to place the relics. Nevertheless, the issue of the archbishop’s role is not a minor issue, first because, according to Niceforo’s version, the whole event occurred in opposition to the urban episcopacy, with the object of placing the saint, originally assigned to the Cathedral of San Sabino, in another location under different patronage belonging to other elements of civic society. Moreover, this same issue is closely connected to the history of the Basilica of St Nicholas, starting with the ownership of the land on which it was built, the Catepan’s court. Was this site the property of the episcopacy, as a result of a debated donation by Roger Borsa to the archbishop in 1087, with a mandate to build the church of St Nicholas there? Or on the contrary, was this not the case, as Niceforo’s version seems to indicate? What is certain is that after the death of Elias (1105), who in turn became archbishop, Pope Pasquale II declared St Nicholas to be under the direct authority of the Holy See and therefore exempt from the archbishop’s jurisdiction. This was the start of a long history of controversies between the archbishopric and the clergy of St Nicholas regarding episcopal rights over the basilica, also involving the translation accounts and their dating.50 Beyond these facts, which are still far from having been definitively clarified, the translation of St Nicholas certainly has several political implications and is an important reference point for the history of Bari in the last decades of the 11th century. In that context in fact it presents us with the leading figures of those times in Bari. First, an archbishop, Ursone, linked to Guiscard and to Gregory VII, far removed from the Byzantine background

154 Amalia Galdi that still characterized the city. Second, a Benedictine abbot and prospective archbishop, Elias,51 who, before assuming a decisive mediating role between the urban groups after the translation, had shown apparent gifts for maintaining political balance. He received Pope Urban II in Bari in September 1089 and was consecrated by him as archbishop at that time, and he attended the deposition of the relics. In Bari, Urban presided at a council (3–10 October 1098), held deliberately in a city with many problems of coexistence between the Greek and the Greco-Latin clergy.52 Moreover, it was also Elias who confirmed the pre-eminence of Bari in the joint episcopate of Bari and Canosa, both by changing the traditional title of the archbishops and especially by the “accidental” finding of St Sabinus’s relics in the cathedral crypt,53 so that the rival seat no longer held patronage over the most celebrated saint.54 This last event – in Elias’s perception – could also have contributed to re-establishing the balance between the prestigious new Basilica of St Nicholas and the archbishopric. It is no accident that the task of writing the account of the inventio of St Sabinus was also entrusted to a man close to the archbishopric: the same Giovanni who had written about the translatio of St Nicholas. Finally, there are the various urban factions, sometimes divided into proNorman and pro-Byzantine,55 and among them, in particular, the members of the group which translated the relics.56 These were the true protagonists of an enterprise which, beyond the usual topoi of divine inspiration and the intention of ensuring more fitting veneration for a holy body by taking it away from the Muslims, was neither improvised nor accidental. It was a diverse group, whose members were not all citizens of Bari and came from different social classes.57 Finally, the new conquerors took no part in the operation, since St Nicholas does not seem to have been linked to Norman royal power and its symbols, as had happened, for example, after the (probably also fictitious) inventio of the relics of St Matthew the Apostle in Salerno.58 Perhaps we will never know the identity of those who really organized the translation (if they existed) or the specific aims they wished to pursue.59 What is certain, however, is that it had a great impact among contemporaries,60 and in particular it offered Bari a precious treasure, the body of a saint highly venerated in the West, with clear maritime connotations. Nicholas became the principal symbol of the whole city, in spite of the hostilities between the different parties after the arrival of the relics, and this also raises another possible factor: that the enterprise was carried out to serve the hegemonic objectives of the merchants against other civic factions. The relics enormously enhanced the city’s prestige, at a time when Bari had lost its status as a Byzantine provincial capital and had assumed a difficult role in the political and ecclesiastical transition, stemming from its crucial position in relation to the opposition between the Eastern and Western Churches, separated in 1054. It is also important to consider Bari’s rivalry with Venice during these same years: the Norman conquest and the reshaping of relations with

Furta sacra in southern Italy

155

Byzantium could seriously compromise Bari’s Mediterranean trade in favour of the lagoon city.61 Nicholas was considered the protector of sailors; the Genoese were looking – in vain – for his relics.62 It was to be expected that the Venetians would also try to acquire his body. The intention of the Venetians can be confirmed not only by sources from Bari but also especially by the furtum that probably took place in 1100 and targeted precisely the relics of St Nicholas. Around the middle of the 11th century, the Venetians had already built a church in honour of the saint at the entrance to the port of the Lido. As we can read in the account of this Venetian translatio,63 in 1099, a fleet commanded by Doge Michiel’s son Giovanni, accompanied by Enrico Contarini, bishop of Castello, left to help the Crusaders in the Holy Land and also to prevent the Genoese, Pisans, Provençals, and Normans conquering new positions in the Mediterranean. Having stopped over in Rhodes until the middle of July 1100, the fleet headed towards the coast of Lycia and put in near Myra to reach the church where the relics were kept. The custodians told them that the people from Bari had already taken the relics and that they only had those of Nicholas, the uncle of the more famous bishop. However, an amazing scent emanating from a place in the church indicated that the saint’s body was still there and that the Myra custodians must have lied to the Bari group, who had therefore taken false relics. With the arrival of the alleged relics of Nicholas, the Venetians gained a powerful new patronage, to add to that of St Mark the Evangelist. Their possession of the latter’s body, moreover, had been the result of a theft (or perhaps a purchase) when it was taken from Alexandria in 828, an event full of complex political and ecclesiastical significance, well described by historians.64 In 1094, only a few years before the translation of the relics of St Nicholas, there occurred the alleged inventio of the marble sarcophagus containing the relics of the Evangelist, whose sepulchre had apparently fallen into oblivion among the Venetians but was now placed in the reconstructed St Mark’s Basilica.65 We must bear in mind that St Nicholas had the specific role of protecting sailors and merchants, on whose activities the fortune of the Venetians was based. As has been written, along with Mark for the doge there was now Nicholas for the merchants, “the perfect combination of the religion of power and that of business”.66 On the other hand, we can observe here the ability, typical of Venetian society, to mediate between conflicting interests. The arrival of the relics of St Nicholas led to a dispute in Venice too, as in Bari, on where to place them: Should they be deposited in St Mark’s Basilica or in another building? Finally, the church of San Nicolò al Lido was chosen, in line with the preference of the churchmen actively involved in the relicstealing expedition, thereby avoiding direct competition between the two patrons, Mark and Nicholas.67 Bari and Venice therefore engaged in the same kind of theft for the same kind of patronage, and in both cases – in spite of the differences between

156 Amalia Galdi the two contexts – Nicholas’s relics served to enhance and represent their prestige. Both sanctuaries, especially Bari, became important pilgrimage sites. Just a century later came the Fourth Crusade, which led to the Sack of Constantinople by the Venetians and the creation of the so-called Eastern Latin Empire, in which Venice played a prominent role. And it was above all the Venetians who profited most – through unbridled theft – from the rich heritage of relics preserved in Byzantium,68 pieces from a huge collection that had been growing continuously since the middle of the fourth century.69 However, they were not the only ones to benefit from the riches of Constantinople; there was also looting by Pisans and Genoese. One of the most famous thefts was that of the relics of the Apostle Andrew, originally transferred to Constantinople by the Emperor Constantius II between the years 356 and 357. Possession of these relics symbolized the antiquity of the Eastern Church compared with the Western, since according to the Byzantines, Andrew was the first Apostle called by Christ, and he was traditionally thought to have consecrated the first bishop of Byzantium, Stachys, in Thrace.70 This translation took place in a complex historical context,71 brilliantly reconstructed by Werner Maleczek in a volume devoted to the person responsible, Peter Capuanus from Amalfi, a cardinal of Innocent III. It is well known that this pope was interested not only in the reconquest of the Holy Land but also in the unification of the Eastern and Western Churches, through the submission of the former to the Roman Papacy. Innocent assigned the legation for the new crusade to Peter and to Soffredo, Cardinal of Santa Prassede, and the Amalfitan went to promulgate the crusade in France. Many difficulties arose at the beginning of the expedition, and the inability of the Crusaders to meet the Venetians’ financial conditions for providing transport led to the notorious agreement, imposed by Venice, whereby the Crusaders were diverted from their original plan, attacking the Christian cities of Zara (Zadar) in 1202 and then Constantinople in 1203. After a stay in the Holy Land, the papal legates arrived in the Byzantine capital, where Peter discussed the unification of the two Churches but succeeded only in further souring the situation. The events leading to the Crusaders’ sack of Constantinople in the spring of 1204, and their consequences, are well known. The thefts of precious saints’ relics from the city were defended within the discourse of Latin disdain for the Greeks, who were allegedly unworthy of guarding sacred pignora. This last question is discussed by Matthew, archdeacon of Amalfi cathedral and author of the Translatio corporis Sancti Andree apostoli.72 Peter Capuanus in fact actively participated in the theft of relics from Constantinople and took possession of one of the most prestigious holy bodies preserved there, that of St Andrew, removed from the Church of the Holy Apostles, which he offered to Amalfi, his patria. His choice of this relic may have been deliberate; it was a period in which arguments for the primacy of the Church of Constantinople compared with Rome were starting to rely on the more ancient apostolic activity

Furta sacra in southern Italy

157

of St Andrew, credited with converting the Byzantine lands.73 The holy body, acquired by a furtum sacrum, was solemnly translated on 8 May 1208 and placed in the cathedral, becoming the principal object of veneration in this small Campanian city.74 Devotion to St Andrew in Amalfi preceded this event, moreover, and it was already a popular pilgrimage site.75 The episode of the theft of St Andrew’s relics is a good illustration of a historical context that had changed radically compared with the early Middle Ages, and consequently the significance of this event was also different from previous examples. The early medieval furta had a strong political motivation and expressed endemic conflicts between small southern states, using saints and their relics to affirm the power and prestige of certain urban communities. In the case of Amalfi, however, the city’s civic and ecclesiastical groups appear to be entirely unrelated to the circumstances that brought about the translation, even though it was promoted by one of Amalfi’s most famous sons and these groups broadly benefited from its consequences.

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

“Martyrium Polycarpi”, 27. See, for example, Paolino, “Carmen 182”. Théodoret, Thérapeutique, 303, and Victricius, “De laude sanctorum”, 84–5. Theodosiani, 466. See, for example, Augustinus, “De Opere Monachorum”, col. 575. The Council of Nicaea of 787 made it compulsory to consecrate churches with martyrs’ remains; see Decisioni, 210. It is impossible to specify the extent of the phenomenon, but see Caroli, Le traslazioni on accounts of transfers of relics in narrative sources from the eighth to the 11th centuries (referring also to the previous and following periods), which includes a useful list of the European areas referring to the Carolingian Empire and an extensive bibliography (386–401). See also Geary, Living, 194–218. Decisioni, 168. Capitulary of Charlemagne of 811. Capitularia, 163. Le Assise, 28. The most important examples are Dupré, “La ‘grande rapina”, and Geary, Furta Sacra. See also Caroli, “La barba”, as well as Caroli, Le traslazioni. Canetti, “Mnemostoria”, 131 and n. 1. A documented authenticity procedure was the fire judgement; see Head, “The Genesis”. For southern Italy, see Head, “Discontinuity”, 190–1, 200–1, 206, and Galdi, Santi, 209. Eginardo, Traslazione e miracoli, 20 of the Introduction for Einhard’s role in the invention of the genre. Geary, Furta Sacra, 90. Ibid., 52–3. Eginardo, Traslazione e miracoli, 167–9. Canetti, “Mnemostoria”, 131. Lanzoni, San Petronio, 89. At least since Peyer, Città. Information from Pope Gregory the Great, to whom we owe the biography of Benedict in the Dialogi: on this episode and the pages devoted to the saint in general, see Galdi, Benedetto, 9–30.

158 Amalia Galdi 22 Adrevaldo, “Historia translationis”. 23 For the whole question, with reference to the respective sources and bibliography, cf. Galdi, “S. Benedetto tra Montecassino”. 24 Granier, “Conflitti”, 33. 25 Caroli, Le traslazioni, 14. 26 A general description is given in Galdi, “Traslazioni”. 27 Vuolo, “Agiografia”, 269–70, and Galdi, “Identità”, 100–3. 28 “Translatio Beneventum”. The event is more specifically described in Galdi, “Identità”, 98–100. 29 Orselli, L’immaginario, XI. 30 “Translatio Ianuarii”. 31 Granier, “Napolitains”, 437–8. 32 The event is described in detail in Galdi, “Quam si urbem”. 33 “Trophima”. 34 Granier, “Conflitti”, 40–9, and Mammato, La Santa. 35 See Vuolo, “Agiografia”, 281–2, and Galdi, Santi, 269. 36 Falkenhausen, “Bari bizantina”, 195–220. 37 Ibid., 213–14, 220–2. On the cult in the Italic area and especially in Puglia, see Pertusi, “Ai confini”, 9–13. 38 See Pertusi, “Ai confini”, 29–39. 39 For a first analysis of the sources, see Cioffari, “San Nicola”. On the hagiographical dossier “Nicolaus”, see Re, “Nicola”. 40 There is an extensive bibliography in Silvestro, Santi, 213–23. 41 Spagnoletti, “La traslazione”. 42 On the limitations of the works available, see Pertusi, “Ai confini”, 24–6. 43 Ibid., 19. 44 Cioffari, La leggenda di Kiev. 45 “Translatio Barium an. 1087. B.”, 896–7. We know this from various manuscripts; see Cioffari, “Giovanni”, 50–2. The most ancient may be that included in Vatican Reg. Lat. 477, recently dated to the end of the 11th century (Silvestro, Santi, 90), published by Nitti, “La traslazione”, 357–66, but with several mistakes; see Cioffari, “Giovanni”, 55. 46 “Translatio Barium an. 1087. A.”, 895–6. The autograph is also lacking. The text is preserved in various manuscripts (which can be dated to between the 12th and 14th centuries), containing different versions, traditionally known as the “Vatican recension”, without the final lines, “Beneventan”, “Hierosolymitan”, in which there is also a reference to extracts of the archdeacon Giovanni, and “Greek”; for the publications, see Pertusi, “Ai confini”, 20–2. 47 Pertusi, “Ai confini”, 19. According to Silvestro, Santi, 151–3, Giovanni’s text is not reworked and precedes Niceforo’s account. 48 Cioffari, “Giovanni”, 46. 49 Silvestro, Santi, 201–8. 50 Ibid., 179–200. 51 On his figure, cf. Pertusi, “Ai confini”, 38–40. 52 Houben, Mezzogiorno, 277–90. 53 Falkenhausen, “Bari bizantina”, 225. 54 Campione, “Sabino di Canosa”, 41–6. 55 On this issue, see Falkenhausen, “Bari bizantina”, 225. 56 Elias would have granted the participants burial rights near the Basilica of St Nicholas; on this question, see Spagnoletti, “La traslazione”, 116–21. 57 See Pertusi, “Ai confini”, 42–5; Spagnoletti, “La traslazione”, 119–20. 58 Pertusi, “Ai confini”, 13–17. 59 Spagnoletti, “La traslazione”, 122–6. 60 Cioffari, “Giovanni”, 59.

Furta sacra in southern Italy 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72

73 74

75

159

Pertusi, “Ai confini”, 48–9. Ibid., 54–5. Monachi, “Historia”. See Tramontin, “Culto e liturgia”, 909–12. See Tramontin, “Culto e liturgia”, and Cracco, “I testi”, 925–47. Tramontin, “Culto e liturgia”, 904–5. Cracco, “I testi”, 948. Ibid., 948–9. Exuviæ Sacræ Constantinopolitanæ. See Tramontin, “Culto e liturgia”, 897. Meinardus, “A Study”, 130–3; see Klaniczay, “Az ereklyék kultusza”, 47, 56–7. For the evidence of the cult, see also Gordini, “Andrea”. See Maleczek, Pietro Capuano; Ortalli, Ravegnani, and Schreiner, Quarta crociata, and Tyerman, An Eyewitness History. First published by Exuviæ Sacræ Constantinopolitanæ, vol. 1, 165–78, and then by Pirri, Il duomo, 144. Pirri (140, n. 1) argues for an earlier dating of the work than that suggested by Riant (the mid-14th century). The text was probably commissioned by the Amalfitan archbishop Filippo Augustariccio (1258–92): see Sangermano, Scritti, 19. For another version of the translatio, see “Translatio Cpoli Amalphim”. Maleczek, Pietro Capuano, 235. Exuviæ Sacræ Constantinopolitanæ, vol. 2, 88–94, and Pirri, Il duomo, 135–9 published a document of 11 October 1208 concerning the agreements between Peter of Capua, the archbishop of Amalfi, Matteo Capuano, and the Cathedral Chapter on the oblations and proceeds from the cult of St Andrew; see Sangermano, Scritti, 20. Gargano, “La cattedrale”.

Sources and bibliography Adrevaldo, monacho Floriacensi. “Historia translationis S. Benedicti”. In Les miracles de Saint Benoit ècrits par Adrevald, Aimoin, André, Raoul Tórtaire et Hugues de Sainte Marie moines de Fleury, edited by E. de Certain, 1–14. Paris: Mme Ve Jules Renouard, 1858. Le Assise di Ariano, edited and translated by O. Zecchino. Cava dei Tirreni: Di Mauro, 1984. Augustinus, Hipponensis Episcopus.“De Opere Monachorum”. In Patrologia Latina, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 40, cols. 547–82. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1841. Campione, A. “Sabino di Canosa tra storia e leggenda”. In La tradizione barese di s. Sabino di Canosa, edited by S. Palese, 23–46. Per la Storia della Chiesa di Bari 19. Bari: Edipuglia, 2001. Canetti, L. “Mnemostoria e archeologia rituale delle traslazioni di reliquie tra Antichità e Medioevo”. In Liturgia e agiografia tra Roma e Costantinopoli, edited by K. Stantchev, and S. Parenti, 131–51. Analekta Kriptoferris 5. Grottaferrata: Monastero Esarchico di S. Maria, 2007. Capitularia Regum Francorum, edited by A. Boretius. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Legum Sectio II. Vol. 1. Hannover: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1883. Caroli, M. “La barba dell’apostolo: traslazioni di reliquie in età carolingia tra legittimazione e propaganda”. In Liturgia e agiografia tra Roma e Costantinopoli, edited by K. Stantchev, and S. Parenti, 289–310. Analekta Kriptoferris 5. Grottaferrata: Monastero Esarchico di S. Maria, 2007. Caroli, M. Le traslazioni reliquiali dei secoli VIII-X in Occidente: per la costruzione di un repertorio. Bologna: Martina Caroli, 2001.

160 Amalia Galdi Cioffari, G.“Giovanni arcidiacono: l’Historia translationis sancti Nicolai nell’Europa medievale”. In Alle origini dell’Europa: il culto di San Nicola tra Oriente e Occidente, edited by G. Cioffari, and A. Laghezza, 43–108. Nicolaus Studi Storici 42–43. Bari: Levante, 2011. Cioffari, G. La leggenda di Kiev: la traslazione delle reliquie di S. Nicola nel racconto di un annalista contemporaneo. Bari: Centro Studi e Ricerche “S. Nicola”, 1980. Cioffari, G. “San Nicola nelle fonti letterarie dal V all’VIII secolo”. In San Nicola: splendori d’arte d’Oriente e d’Occidente, edited by M. Bacci, 31–4. Milano: Skira, 2006. Cracco, G. “I testi agiografici: religione e politica nella Venezia del Mille”. In Storia di Venezia: dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima. Vol. 1: Origini – Età Ducale, edited by L. Cracco Ruggini, 923–61. Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1992. Decisioni dei Concili ecumenici, edited by G. Alberigo and translated by R. Galligani. Classici delle religioni. Sez. 4, La religione cattolica 35. Torino: Unione Tipografico-Editrice Torinese, 1978. Dupré Theseider, E. “La ‘grande rapina dei corpi santi’ dall’Italia al tempo di Ottone I”. In Festschrift Percy Ernst Schramm: zu seinem siebzigsten Geburtstag von Schülern und Freunden zugeeignet, edited by P. Classen, and P. Scheibert. Vol. 1, 420–32. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1964. Eginardo. Traslazione e miracoli dei santi Marcellino e Pietro, edited by F. Stella. Scrittori latini dell’Europa medioevale 3. Ospedaletto, Pisa: Pacini Editore, 2009. Exuviæ Sacræ Constantinopolitanæ: Fasciculus documentorum minorum, ad byzantina lipsana in Occidentem sæculo XIIIº translata, spectantium, & Historiam quarti belli sacri imperijq; gallo-græci illustrantium, edited by P.E.D. Riant. Vol. 1. Geneva: Typis I. G. Fick, 1877. Exuviæ Sacræ Constantinopolitanæ: Fasciculus documentorum ecclesiasticorum, ad byzantina lipsana in Occidentem sæculo XIIIº translata, spectantium, & Historiam quarti belli sacri imperijq; gallo-græci illustrantium, edited by P.E.D. Riant. Vol. 2. Geneva: Typis I. G. Fick, 1878. Falkenhausen, V. von. “Bari bizantina: profilo di un capoluogo di provincia (secoli IX-XI)”. In Spazio, società, potere nell’Italia dei Comuni, edited by G. Rossetti, 195–227. Europa Mediterranea 1. Pisa: GISEM; Napoli: Liguori Editore, 1986. Galdi, A. Benedetto. Bologna: Il Mulino, 2016. Galdi, A. “Identità e pluralità in Benevento longobarda: poteri politici, vescovi e culti di santi”. In Il ducato e il principato di Benevento: aspetti e problemi (secoli VI-XI), edited by E. Cuozzo, and M. Iadanza, 93–110. Benevento: La Provincia Sannita, 2014. Galdi, A. “Quam si urbem illam suae subdiderit: la traslazione delle reliquie di san Gennaro a Benevento tra istanze politiche, agiografia e devozione”. In San Gennaro nel XVII centenario del martirio (305–2005), edited by G. Luongo. Vol. 1, 223–42. Campania Sacra 37. Napoli: Editoriale Comunicazioni Sociali, 2006. Galdi, A. “S. Benedetto tra Montecassino e Fleury (VII–XII secolo)”. Mélanges de l’École Française de Rome – Moyen Âge 126, no. 2 (2014): 2–20. Galdi, A. Santi, territori, poteri e uomini nella Campania medievale (secc. XI–XII). Salerno: Laveglia editore, 2004. Galdi, A. “Traslazioni di reliquie in Campania tra poteri politici e religiosi (secoli IXXII)”. In Dal lago di Tiberiade al mare di Amalfi. Il viaggio apostolico di Andrea, il Primo Chiamato: testimonianze, cronache e prospettive di ecumenismo nell’VIII

Furta sacra in southern Italy

161

Centenario della Traslazione delle Reliquie del Corpo (1208–2008), edited by M. Talalay, 79–89. Amalfi: Centro di Cultura e Storia Amalfitana, 2008. Gargano, G. “La cattedrale santuario: il culto di S. Andrea ad Amalfi”. In Pellegrinaggi e itinerari dei santi nel Mezzogiorno medievale, edited by G. Vitolo, 193– 201. Europa Mediterranea 14. Pisa: GISEM; Napoli: Liguori Editore, 1999. Geary, P.J. Furta Sacra: la trafugazione delle reliquie nel Medioevo (secoli IX-XI), translated by E. Fera. Cultura e Storia 19. Milano: Vita e Pensiero, 2000. Geary, P.J. Living with the Dead in the Middle Ages. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994. Gordini, G.D. “Andrea, apostolo, santo”. In Enciclopedia dei Santi – Bibliotheca Sanctorum, edited by Istituto Giovanni XXIII nella Pontificia Università Lateranense. Vol. 1: A-Ans, 1094–1100. Roma: Città Nuova, 1961. Granier, T. “Conflitti, compromessi e trasferimenti di reliquie nel Mezzogiorno latino del secolo IX”. Hagiographica 13 (2006): 33–71. Granier, T. “Napolitains et Lombards aux VIIIe-XIe siècles: de la guerre des peuples à la ‘guerre des saints’ en Italie du Sud”. Mélanges de l’École Française de Rome – Moyen Âge 108, no. 2 (1996): 403–50. Head, T. “Discontinuity and Discovery in the Cult of Saints: Apulia from Late Antiquity to the High Middle Ages”. Hagiographica 6 (1999): 171–211. Head, T. “The Genesis of the Ordeal of Relics by Fire in Ottonian Germany: An Alternative Form of ‘Canonization’”. In Procès de canonisation au Moyen Âge: aspects juridiques et religieux – Medieval Canonization Processes: Legal and Religious Aspects, directed by G. Klaniczay, 19–31. Collection de l’École Française de Rome 340. Rome: École Française de Rome, 2004. Houben, H. Mezzogiorno normanno-svevo: monasteri e castelli, ebrei e musulmani. Biblioteca Nuovo Medioevo 52. Napoli: Liguori Editore, 1996. Klaniczay, G. “Az ereklyék kultusza a középkorban – Cult of Relics in the Middle Ages”. In Kép és kereszténység – Image and Christianity: Vizuális médiumok a középkorban – Visual Media in the Middle Ages, edited by P. Bokody, 46–65. Pannonhalma: Pannonhalmi Föapátság, 2014. Lanzoni, F. San Petronio, vescovo di Bologna nella storia e nella leggenda. Roma: Libreria Pontificia di Federico Pustet, 1907. Maleczek, W. Pietro Capuano: Patrizio amalfitano, Cardinale, Legato alla Quarta Crociata, Teologo († 1214), translated by F. Delle Donne. Biblioteca Amalfitana 2. Amalfi: Centro di Cultura e Storia Amalfitana, 1997. Mammato, A. La Santa e la Città: Santa Trofimena e Minori. Problemi storiografici e tradizione manoscritta. Minori: Centro Cultura e Storia Pompeo Troiano, Terra del Sole edizioni, 2010. “Martyrium Polycarpi”, translated by S. Ronchey. In Atti e passioni dei martiri, edited by A.A.R. Bastiaensen, A. Hilhorst, G.A.A. Kortekaas, A.P. Orbán, and M.M. van Assendelft and translated by G. Chiarini, G.A.A. Kortekaas, G. Lanata, and S. Ronchey, 3–31. Roma: Fondazione Lorenzo Valla; Milano: Arnoldo Mondadori Editore, 1987. Meinardus, O. “A Study of the Relics of Saints of the Greek Orthodox Church”. Oriens Christianus: Hefte für die Kunde des christlichen Orients 54 (1970): 130–278. Monachi Anonymi Littorensis. “Historia de translatione sanctorum magni Nicolai, terra marique miraculis gloriosi, ejusdem avunculi, alterius Nicolai, Theodorique E. martyris pretiosi, de civitate Mirea in monasterium S. Nicolai de Littore

162 Amalia Galdi Venetiarum”. In Recueil des Historiens des Croisades: Historiens Occidentaux, edited by Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres. Vol. 5, 253–92. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1895. “Nicolaus ep. Myrensis, saec. IV”. In Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina antiquae et mediae aetatis. Vol. 2: K–Z, 890–9. Bruxelles: Socii Bollandiani, 1900–1901. Nitti di Vito, F.“La traslazione delle reliquie di S. Nicola”. Japigia 8 (1937): 295–411. Orselli, A.M. L’immaginario religioso della città medievale. Ravenna: Mario Lapucci, Edizioni del Girasole, 1985. Ortalli, G., G. Ravegnani, and P. Schreiner, eds. Quarta crociata: Venezia – Bisanzio – Impero Latino. Venezia: Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, 2006. Paolino, M.P. “Carmen 182”. In Meropio Ponzio Paolino: antologia di carmi, edited by S. Costanza, 379–81. Messina: Peloritana Editrice, 1971. Pertusi, A. “Ai confini tra religione e politica: la contesa per le reliquie di S. Nicola tra Bari, Venezia e Genova”. Quaderni medievali 5 (1978): 6–56. Peyer, H.C. Città e santi patroni nell’Italia medievale, edited by A. Benvenuti and translated by C. Caduff. Le vie della storia 35. Firenze: Le Lettere, 1998. Pirri, P. Il duomo di Amalfi e il chiostro del Paradiso. Roma: Scuola Tipografica “Don Luigi Guanella”, 1941. Re, N. del. “Nicola, vescovo di Mira, santo”. In Enciclopedia dei Santi – Bibliotheca Sanctorum, edited by Istituto Giovanni XXIII della Pontificia Università Lateranense. Vol. 9: Masab – Ozana, 923–39. Roma: Città Nuova, 1967. Sangermano, G. Scritti “Amalfitani”: venti anni di studi su Amalfi medievale e il suo territorio, edited by M. Galante, and A. Galdi. Battipaglia: Laveglia & Carlone, 2014. Silvestro, S. Santi, reliquie e sacri furti: San Nicola di Bari fra Montecassino e Normanni. Nuovo Medioevo 93. Napoli: Liguori Editore, 2013. Spagnoletti, M.“La traslazione di S. Nicola di Mira e la storiografia barese”. Archivio Storico Pugliese 39 (1986): 101–32. Théodoret de Cyr. Thérapeutique des maladies helléniques, edited and translated by P. Canivet. Vol. 2: Livres VII–XII. Sources Chrétiennes 57. Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1958. Theodosiani libri XVI cum Constitutionibus Sirmondianis et Leges Novellae ad Theodosianum pertinentes, edited by T. Mommsen, and P.M. Meyer. Vol. 1.2: Textus cum apparatu. Berlin: Weidmannos, 1905. Tramontin, S. “Culto e liturgia”. In Storia di Venezia: dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima. Vol. 1: Origini – Età Ducale, edited by L. Cracco Ruggini, 893–921. Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1992. “Translatio Barium an. 1087. A. Auctore Nicephoro clerico Barensi”. In Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina antiquae et mediae aetatis. Vol. 2: K–Z, 895–6, no. 12. Bruxelles: Socii Bollandiani, 1900–1901. “Translatio Barium an. 1087. B. Auctore Iohanne archidiac. Barensi”. In Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina antiquae et mediae aetatis. Vol. 2: K–Z, 896–7, no. 12. Bruxelles: Socii Bollandiani, 1900–1901. “Translatio Beneventum an. 760”. In Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina antiquae et mediae aetatis. Vol. 1: A–I, 346, no. 4. Bruxelles: Socii Bollandiani, 1898–1899. “Translatio Cpoli Amalphim an. 1216, auct. Matthaeo archidiac”. In Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina antiquae et mediae aetatis. Vol. 1: A–I, 72, no. 6. Bruxelles: Socii Bollandiani, 1898–1899.

Furta sacra in southern Italy

163

“Translatio Ianuarii, Festi et Desiderii Beneventum saec. IX”. In Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina antiquae et mediae aetatis. Vol. 1: A–I, 615, no. 11. Bruxelles: Socii Bollandiani, 1898–1899. “Trophima seu Trophimena v. m. in Sicilia”. In Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina antiquae et mediae aetatis. Vol. 2: K–Z, 1204. Bruxelles: Socii Bollandiani, 1900–1901. Tyerman, C., ed. An Eyewitness History of the Crusades. Vol. 4: The Fourth Crusade and the End of Outremer, 1192–1291. London: The Folio Society, 2004. Victricius Rotomagensis. “De laude sanctorum”. In Scriptores minores Galliae, s. IV–V, edited by R. Demeulenaere, 69–93. Instrumenta Lexicologica Latina, Series A 28; Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina 64. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1985. Vuolo, A. “Agiografia beneventana”. Campania Sacra 26, no. 2 (1995): 261–92.

9

The Three Magi Places of worship in Cologne Cathedral Klaus Hardering

We herewith inform you all, our beloved people, that [. . .] we, through the grace of God, have already made a happy start to our journey. For it is with the kind permission of our Most Serene Imperial Majesty the Emperor and with the fullness of his grace and love, that we have been dismissed with joy and honoured in the most distinguished fashion with such excellent and generous gifts as are without compare on this earth. Among the other proofs of his generosity, with which he has so richly gifted us, he has now presented us with three precious gifts, namely the excellent remains of the Three Wise Men and Kings [. . .] Moreover, we also bring you, under the safe protection of the Lord, the remains of the most holy martyrs Nabor and Felix, so that with these incomparable treasures, which are more valuable than all gold and precious stones, the holy Church and city of Cologne will most happily be enriched and decorated for all time.1 It was with these words, written on 12 June 1164 in an epistle sent from the city of Vercelli in northern Italy, that Archbishop of Cologne, Rainald of Dassel advised his fellow clerics and the Cologne citizens of his impending return with the mortal remains of the Three Holy Kings (Magi or Wise Men). It was only the day before the archbishop departed Milan that Emperor Frederick Barbarossa gifted him these precious relics. As the archchancellor of Italy, the archbishop of Cologne had accompanied the Emperor on a military campaign against the rebellious citizens of Milan in 1158. The campaign ended with the city under siege and its subsequent subjugation, for it then to be partially destroyed after a second siege in 1162. According to contemporary sources, only the churches were left intact. As Barbarossa approached in 1158, the people of Milan removed the relics of the Three Holy Kings from the Church of Sant’Eustorgio, which stood outside the city, and brought them to safety in the bell-tower of San Giorgio al Palazzo within the city walls. Their efforts were in vain, however, as Barbarossa discovered the remains and passed them on to the loyal Archbishop of Cologne in recognition for his involvement in the conquest of the city.

The Three Magi 165 On the basis of an eyewitness account, Robert of Torigni, Abbot of the Abbey at Mont Saint-Michel, wrote the following concerning the translation of the Three Holy Kings: “Quorum corpora, quia balsamo et aliis pigmentis condita fuerant, integra exterius, quantum ad cutem et capillos, durabant”.2 [As for their hair and skin, their mortal remains were outwardly intact because, having been treated with balms and other spices, they were preserved]. But how did the relics of the Magi (i.e. astrologers), who are only mentioned in Matthew’s Gospel – albeit without reference to their number (three) and royal rank – end up in Milan in the first place? The oldest reliably dated source of the story is an account of the life of Saint Eustorgius, Archbishop of Milan, from the end of the 12th century and written in the Benedictine Abbey of St Pantaleon in Cologne,3 which is not necessarily proof of the authenticity of the events therein described. The detailed account of the lives of the Three Holy Kings, Historia Trium Regum, which was probably commissioned by Cologne Capitular Florence of Wevelinghoven and written by the Carmelite Prior John of Hildesheim in 1364, was, to a certain extent, a distilled version of the various legends surrounding the Magi.4 According to this account, it was St Helen, the mother of Emperor Constantine the Great, who discovered the remains of the kings on one of her pilgrimages to India (other legends claim that she found them in Asia Minor, i.e. modern-day Turkey, or in Palestine) and took them to the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople. When Eustorgius, a Greek envoy at the Emperor’s Byzantine court (to be later canonized) was made archbishop of Milan by its citizens on a visit to the city because “he was wise and had the ear of the emperor”, he asked the Emperor for the relics of the kings “to whom no one paid much attention at the time” in order to take them with him to Milan. To ensure that the relics would be housed in a dignified and appropriate manner, the new Archbishop of Milan had a church built outside the city walls. To this day, this church bears his name: Sant’Eustorgio. The relics of the kings remained in a monumental sarcophagus dating from Late Antiquity in this location until 1158. And so, on 11 June 1164, Archbishop of Cologne Rainald of Dassel, set off for Cologne from Milan with the relics of the Three Holy Kings.5 A day and around 70 kilometres later, he sent his missive to the clergy and people of Cologne from Vercelli. He then travelled on towards Turin and the Mont Cenis massif in the western Alps. Avoiding the territories of his political enemies, the archbishop chose to travel through Burgundy and the “Gallic” provinces, that is, the provinces on the left bank of the River Rhine. Even though there is no record of where exactly he stopped along the way, it is known that he convened a synod of Burgundian archbishops in Vienne. Rainald of Dassel must have reached the Rhine at Breisach, where, according to legend and local accounts,6 he gave

166

Klaus Hardering

the city the gift of the relics of Saints Gervasius and Protasius, which to this day remain in the city’s minster. From there, he continued his journey by boat, sailing downriver to Cologne. After a journey of 42 days, the archbishop finally reached Cologne, where in accordance with his express wishes, he was given a reception with hymns and songs that was as dignified as it was triumphant. On 23 July 1164, Rainald of Dassel entered Cologne Cathedral with the newly acquired relics in a solemn procession. The cathedral in question was what is now known as the Old Cathedral, the Carolingian cathedral that was consecrated in either 870 or 873 and immediately preceded today’s Gothic cathedral. The Old Cathedral had two choirs, one for the cathedral chapter in the west that was dedicated to St Peter and one in the east that was dedicated to Mary. One can only speculate as to whether the relics of the Three Holy Kings were initially kept in the “confessio” of the western cathedral crypt or in the “aurea camera”, a kind of treasury and sacristy, which was mentioned in documents in 1212.7 The Old Cathedral, which was several hundred years old at the time, was decorated with silk cloths that had also been brought from Milan. New timber towers also enhanced the building’s silhouette.8 Sometime around 1190, work on a massive golden châsse for the relics began (Figure 9.1).9 It was completed only sometime around 1220–30. The wooden casket holding the relics of the kings placed there by Rainald of Dassel’s successor, Philipp of Heinsberg, after the former died in 1167, is likely to have formed the inner core of this shrine. The basilica-shaped wooden casket, which mimics the shape of three shrines placed on top of each other, was now covered on all sides with 0.2-millimetre-thick sheets of copper, silver, and gold, whereby the copper and silver sheets were gold plated. The first parts of the shrine to be completed were the two longitudinal sides. The work was contributed to by goldsmith Nicholas of Verdun, who had previously worked in Klosterneuburg near Vienna, and his workshop staff. These sides featured highly detailed, filigree-seated figures of the prophets on either side of Kings Solomon and David in the lower register and representations of the apostles alongside an archangel in each of the upper registers. The figures were chased out of sheet metal. This is evidence that the iconographic programme of the shrine was not restricted to the life of the Three Holy Kings alone but also covered the entire history of salvation from the dawning of time to Judgement Day. The rear side of the shrine, which was completed by a workshop in Aachen only sometime around 1225, features two scenes from the Passion of Christ, namely the Flagellation and the Crucifixion, on either side of a figure of the Prophet Jeremiah in the lower register. Above these images, we see a symbolic coronation by Christ of the two Roman soldiers and martyr saints

The Three Magi 167

Figure 9.1 Shrine of the Three Magi, Cologne Cathedral Source: Köln, Dombauarchiv (Matz/Schenk)

Nabor and Felix, the reason being that the shrine is also the final resting place for some of their mortal remains. Prominently positioned right at the centre of the rear side is an almost completely three-dimensional bust of Archbishop of Cologne Rainald of Dassel. It is the front end of the shrine, completed sometime around 1204, that is most interesting in terms of the significance of the relics of the Three Holy Kings for the Holy Roman Empire.10 The subject of the representations on this side is the triple epiphany of Christ: his incarnation at birth, illustrated by the child on the lap of the Mother of God in the centre of the lower register, his public appearance at his baptism by John the Baptist on the right-hand side of the lower register, and finally his return as the Judge of the Universe on the Day of Judgement in the gable section of the shrine. The scene featuring the Nativity of Christ is extended to include the Adoration of the Magi, who approach the Mother and Child from the left, wearing crowns and bearing gifts. On the outer left-hand side is another figure, almost as large as the kings but without a crown. According to an inscription in the arcade that frames the scene, this is the German king at the time, Otto IV, who in this way presents himself as the

168

Klaus Hardering

true successor to the Three Holy Kings and the legitimate king of Germany.11 At a time when Otto IV of the House of Welf and his rival Philipp of Swabia of the House of Hohenstaufen were fighting for the German throne, this was an extremely impressive way of legitimizing his rule by demonstrating his God-given power as king. It thus became a tradition for German kings to pay homage at the shrine of the Three Holy Kings in Cologne after their coronation in Aachen, where the Archbishop of Cologne always performed the most important liturgical act, namely the anointing of the king. A miniature of the Codex Balduini Trevirensis,12 which was written sometime around 1340, records a visit paid by King Henry VII and his wife Margaret of Brabant in 1309, showing the royal couple kneeling in front of the open Shrine of the Three Holy Kings. In the 15th and 16th centuries, all German kings crowned by the Archbishop of Cologne paid what by that time had become almost an obligatory visit to the Shrine of the Three Holy Kings: Rupert of the Palatinate (crowned in Cologne) in 1401, Sigismund of Luxemburg in 1414, Frederick III in 1442, Maximilian I in 1486, Charles V in 1520, and his brother Ferdinand I in 1531, the last king to be crowned in Aachen. In 1482, King Louis XI of France even granted Cologne Cathedral and the “trois saincts Roys Jaspar, Balthasar et Melchion”, who had found their final resting place there, a most generous annual pension of 3,000 livres.13 However, by the time of his death in 1483, only 650 livres had actually been paid out. On the occasion of his first visit on 10 November 1954, Emperor of Ethiopia Haile Selassie presented Cologne Cathedral with a precious carpet. Prelate Hecker, provost of Cologne Cathedral, welcomed the Emperor of Ethiopia and drew his attention to the fact that scholars believed that one of the Three Holy Kings hailed from Ethiopia, and that the Emperor’s visit to the cathedral should be seen in the light of the tradition that German kings in the Middle Ages would come to Cologne Cathedral after their coronation in Aachen to follow the Three Holy Kings.14 But where in the Old Cathedral was the Shrine of the Three Holy Kings kept? Although no sources provide a definitive answer to this question, the layout and structure of the floor of the Old Cathedral, which can largely be reconstructed, offers at least some hints as to the possible location of the shrine.15 The floor of the Old Cathedral was made up of different kinds of stone tesserae of a variety of materials. The centre of the cathedral, for example, featured a large rosette made of white marble, Aachen bluestone (a kind of limestone), and reddish “Africano”.16 To the east of the rosette, 11 of a total 15 relatively small indentations in the floor can still be seen. These were obviously holes for posts belonging to an area in the middle of the nave that

The Three Magi 169 was closed off by railings. These railings may have been erected to protect the Shrine of the Three Holy Kings and the relevant altar. It is, however, also conceivable that the shrine was situated in the area of the eastern choir screen. By the early 13th century, the old Carolingian cathedral was no longer able to cope with the inundation of pilgrims. Archbishop Engelbert of Berg’s initial plans for a monumental new building were provisionally put on hold when he was murdered in 1225. Then, after large parts of the Old Cathedral were intentionally destroyed by fire, Archbishop Conrad of Hochstaden laid the foundation stone for a Gothic cathedral of remarkable proportions on the eve of 15 August 1248, the Feast of the Assumption. The western half of the Old Cathedral, which was restored so that it could be used to celebrate the liturgy, was separated from the building site for the choir of the Gothic cathedral in the east by a provisional partition wall. The remains of a podium with three steps directly to the west of this partition wall give rise to the assumption that the shrine, which had previously been kept in the eastern part of the nave of the Old Cathedral, could have been on display here until it was transferred to the new Gothic cathedral. As was the case in the Old Cathedral, the plans for the new Gothic cathedral provided for a mounting of the shrine “in medio ecclesiae”. The Baroque copy of a medieval floor plan, which was published in 1654 by the Cologne Jesuit Hermann Crombach,17 who tried to breathe new life into the cult of the Three Holy Kings with his post-reformation work on the Magi, indicates not only the location of a number of altars but also the planned location of the Shrine of the Three Holy Kings (“Locus futurae quietis SS. trium Regum”) in the middle of the crossing. However, because of the length of time it took to complete the Gothic cathedral, these plans were never realized. Until the construction of the cathedral was completed several centuries later, a large gilded bronze star hung on the gable of the Gothic choir, which, towering as it did above all other buildings in the city at the time, thus made the planned location of the shrine visible to all from afar. Although it is possible that the shrine was positioned directly behind the medieval high altar in the inner choir of the Gothic cathedral for a short period between 1320 and 1322, sources indicate with certainty only that the shrine was transferred to the axial chapel during a solemn procession for the consecration of the Gothic cathedral choir on 27 September 1322. In order to both display the shrine in an appropriate manner and protect it, a lattice metalwork structure in the shape of a chapel was created.18 A historical image dating from the year 1633 and some surviving pieces of this structure document its existence. Four doors decorated with gilded stars allowed the metalwork chapel to be opened at the level of the shrine, thereby providing pilgrims with an unimpeded view of the holy relics.

170

Klaus Hardering

Because the shrine was situated in the axial chapel of the choir, the ambulatory now had to be opened up to the flood of pilgrims arriving at the cathedral. This led to the emergence of a path of pilgrimage inside the cathedral, leading the pilgrims, who generally entered the cathedral through the south portal, past the most important venerated images in the cathedral. Starting in the eastern aisle of the partially completed south transept, the pilgrims moved past the Lady Chapel with the Milan Madonna, the most important of the cathedral’s venerated images, along the southern ambulatory to the Shrine of the Three Holy Kings in the axial chapel, and on to the northern ambulatory and the Chapel of the Cross containing the Gero Crucifix, which had previously hung in the Old Cathedral. For centuries, the axial chapel remained the centre of veneration of the Magi in Cologne Cathedral. Consequently, the area immediately surrounding this chapel became the preferred location for burial within the cathedral. In 1463, Dietrich of Moers, Archbishop of Cologne, was laid to rest in the apex of the inner choir, directly opposite the structure in which the shrine was housed. In the monument to the archbishop, the three-dimensional figures of the Adoration of the Magi on the right-hand side of the monument are a direct reference to the chapel containing the relics of the Three Holy Kings opposite. The five archbishops of Cologne who hailed from the Bavarian House of Wittelsbach had themselves buried in a vault beneath the central bay of the ambulatory, in other words directly in front of the place where the shrine was situated. This explains the bronze wall monument to the elector Ernest of Bavaria and a plaque containing the names of all Bavarian electors on the southern and northern walls of the axial chapel. As part of a first Baroque redesign of the cathedral choir, the metalwork chapel that housed the shrine was replaced by a marble mausoleum from 1668 to 1689–90.19 The mausoleum was the work of the sculptor Heribert Neuß, a native of the city. The structure, which was built in the tradition of the Casa Santa in Loreto, had a Baroque façade, which has been preserved. It had a central opening with a grille that afforded a view of the front end of the Shrine of the Three Holy Kings. An alabaster relief in the gable section depicted the Adoration of the Magi, while the façade was topped with a golden star and statues of Saints Felix and Nabor. This Baroque Magi Mausoleum is documented not only by a large number of images dating from the 19th century, but also by an historical photograph taken shortly before it was demolished. As part of a drive to cleanse the cathedral choir of virtually everything in the Baroque or early Classical style, the Magi Mausoleum was demolished in 1889. The shrine had already been moved to the new Cathedral Treasury when it was opened to the public in 1867. The façade of the mausoleum was, however, given a new lease of life in the 1920s when it was used for the Magi Altar on the southwestern outer wall of the Cathedral Treasury, which at the time was housed in the eastern

The Three Magi 171 aisles of the north transept. This meant that the façade could once again be used for its original intended purpose: the grille covering the central opening afforded a view of the shrine in the treasury behind it. After the mausoleum was dismantled, parts of it were put in storage. The rear side, however, was provisionally erected on the first floor of the south tower. It was only for the 850th anniversary of the translation of the relics of the Magi to Cologne in 2014 that the rear side of the mausoleum was brought back into the main body of the cathedral again. After a thorough restoration, it now stands in the Hall of the Holy Three Kings, the former location of the Cathedral Treasury, wall-to-wall with the front side of the mausoleum. The Shrine of the Three Holy Kings, which was removed from the cathedral in wartime, was given a new home in the cathedral after World War II, namely behind the medieval high altar in the inner choir of the cathedral on top of a hydraulic platform. This means that during the annual Three Holy Kings pilgrimage in September, pilgrims can actually walk beneath the shrine. Although the current location of the shrine is certainly not historic, the way it is presented harks back to a medieval tradition in other Cologne churches. In the Gothic choir of the Church of St Ursula in Cologne, for example, a podium rises above the altarpiece and is supported by four stone pillars. This podium originally bore a metalwork cage containing a wooden casket with the shrines of St Ursula, her husband, St Aetherius, and St Hippolytus. The Church of St Severin contains a comparable structure for the shrine of St Severin, Bishop of Cologne.20 Although it is known that an average 20,000 people visit Cologne Cathedral every day, it is not known how many of these visitors are pilgrims. Nor are there any exact figures for the number of pilgrims who came to Cologne in the Middle Ages or in the early modern era. What is certain is that as early as the Middle Ages, the pilgrimage to the Three Holy Kings was of great significance to the city, not least for economic reasons. This found expression in the redesign of the coat of arms of the City of Cologne in the late 13th century.21 Since then, the golden crowns of the Magi have graced what was previously the uniform red chief of the city’s coat of arms. The oldest surviving examples of this can be seen in stained glass panels depicting the coats of arms in the choir clerestory, which date to around 1300.22 In the year 1393, the Council of the City of Cologne persuaded Pope Boniface IX to make any transfer of the relics of the Magi that was not authorized by the Pontiff himself a punishable offence. This meant that it was not possible – even for the archbishop – to give away any part of the precious relics. The penalty for this offence was excommunication, the reversal of which was exclusively reserved for the Holy See. Because hardly any significant relics of the Three Holy Kings existed outside Cologne (only Rainald of Dassel made a gift of three of the kings’ fingers

172

Klaus Hardering

to his native diocese of Paderborn in 1164) Cologne remained – thanks to its clever relics policy – the only significant destination for a pilgrimage to the relics of the Three Holy Kings. The fact that pilgrim badges from Cologne dating from the 12th to the 15th centuries have been found across the continent is proof that pilgrims from almost all over Europe made their way to Cologne in the Middle Ages. Such badges were the outward symbol of a successfully completed pilgrimage and were generally sown onto the brim of the large felt hats or cloak-like mantles of the day. In this way, they were carried from Cologne back to the pilgrims’ native countries. Over 100 of these pilgrims’ badges have been found, mostly in Germany, but also across Central and Northern Europe.23 Located in Romania, Bergen in Norway, London, Bruges, and Wrocław, the badges were made of a low-melting lead-tin alloy that was poured into corresponding moulds and generally depicted the Adoration of the Magi in flat relief. One particularly beautiful badge was found in the Dutch town of Veere: today, this heavily open-worked badge, which dates from the middle of the 15th century, can be admired in Cologne City Museum (Kölnisches Stadtmuseum).24 In the early modern era and with the invention of printing, these medieval pilgrims’ badges were increasingly replaced by “Magi letters” and “Contact leaflets”. Printed on different coloured pieces of paper or coloured silk and like the pilgrims’ badges before them, they generally featured a depiction of the Adoration or the Journey of the Magi, but sometimes also images of the city of Cologne, the unfinished cathedral, or the Baroque Magi Mausoleum. They generally also featured a prayer.25 These pilgrims’ tokens, which were very popular, could be purchased in the city, perhaps even in the cathedral itself. They were then generally given to a priest (one was always present when the shrine was open), who would use a pair of tongs to hold the token to the skulls of the kings, thereby making the tokens secondary or contact relics. The Magi collection of the Cologne Cathedral Archive contains many such contact relics. In 1964, on the 800th anniversary of the translation of the relics to Cologne, the tradition of the contact relics was revived once again. A stamp made specially for this purpose has also been preserved. Once the trapezoidal panel on the front end was removed, thereby opening the shrine, it was possible to glimpse the crowned skulls of the Three Holy Kings behind a golden grille bearing the names Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar. The shrine is opened in this way every year on the Feast of the Three Holy Kings (6 January), inevitably raising the question as to what else is inside this priceless shrine. The last time the shrine was fully opened and the relics examined in detail was on the occasion of a reburial of the relics in 1864, the 700th anniversary of their displacement from Milan to Cologne.26 While the three skulls of the Magi at that time were positioned on what was referred to as the “head panel” immediately behind the removable

The Three Magi 173 trapezoidal panel at the front end of the shrine, as they are today, all the other relics were in a separate drawer with two larger and three smaller compartments. Dr Hermann Schaafhausen (1816–93), professor of Physiology and Anthropology at the University of Bonn, who had examined the recently discovered parts of the skeleton Homo Neanderthalensis, was entrusted with the examination of the relics. Because of the meticulous listing and exact descriptions of the bone fragments found inside the shrine, it may be assumed that the corresponding examination report was largely penned by Schaafhausen. According to the report, one of the two large rectangular compartments contained bone fragments belonging to Saint Gregory of Spoleto, an early fourth-century martyr, whose relics had been translated to Cologne by Archbishop Bruno I in the tenth century. These fragments were wrapped in an “old linen cloth interwoven with red silk” and identified as the relics of this saint by a strip of parchment. The compartment also contained unidentified bone fragments from two different human skeletons that were taken to be the relics of the two Roman soldiers and saints Nabor and Felix. The numerous bone fragments belonging to the Three Holy Kings in the second large compartment of the drawer, which the report concludes very definitely belonged to three different people, were carefully and accurately listed in the report. An in-depth examination of the skulls led Schaafhausen to make the following remarks: The first (of St Caspar) turned out to be the skull of a man aged from 25 to 30. The sutures had not yet fused; even the frontal suture was still open. The skull is small. The second skull (of St Melchior) is that of a young male aged from 10 to 12. Its sutures, including the frontal suture, are still open. [. . .] This is the most beautiful skull of all. The third skull of Balthazar is the skull of a male of around 50 years of age. The sutures have all fused. [. . .] This skull, which is also small, is the least beautiful.27 However, these remarks provided no insight into the age of the relics. This was the last time the relics were examined, despite the fact that smaller parts of the relics of the Three Holy Kings were returned to Milan in 1903, when the shrine may have been opened once again. Around 100 years later, however, the precious fabrics in which the relics were wrapped in a mummy-like manner, but which were not mentioned at all in the 1864 report, brought the quest to determine the age of the relics at least one small step further. Franz Bock, capitular in Aachen, who was present when the shrine was opened in 1864 and was a renowned expert on historical textiles, noted in his records about the fabrics that the individual bones were wrapped in precious materials: “Wrapped so many times around each other [. . .] that they practically formed a solid conglomerate”.28 Evidently, the textiles had

174

Klaus Hardering

bonded fast with bones during the process of decomposition, an indication that they must have been used for the original burial. The discovery of four small fabric fragments labelled as “relics of the Three Holy Kings” in the sacristy of the parish church of St George in Ribeauvillé in Alsace in 1978 provided an opportunity for a comparison with the fabrics removed from the shrine in Cologne in 1864. From 1978 to 1981, a series of examinations were undertaken:29 to begin with at the Centre International d’Étude des Textiles Anciens in Lyon (1978),30 and subsequently in the textile restoration workshop of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg (1980),31 where the fabrics from Cologne were cleaned and conserved. Finally, the fabrics were examined in Brussels in 1981 by Professor Daniël de Jonghe,32 who had made a name for himself as a specialist for damask fabrics dating from Late Antiquity. The findings were surprisingly unambiguous. The experts concluded that the fabric from the relics of the Three Holy Kings was a diapered silk damask of the kind exclusively produced in the Syrian region during the second to fourth centuries AD. In terms of the design of the pattern, the weave and the structure of the threads, the four fragments of fabric discovered in Ribeauvillé and one of the small fragments from Cologne are very similar to fabrics found in the ruins of the Tower of Elahbel in Palmyra, which was built in 103 AD and largely destroyed in 272 AD. One of the smaller fragments of fabric from Cologne still had some of the original trimming of dark purple wool featuring a wave-like pattern in gold thread. Millimetre-long fragments of the fabric were removed so that the dye could be examined in the analytical technological laboratory in the Application Technology unit at Bayer AG in 1981. These examinations concluded that the dye was definitely an ancient purple dye made from the secretion of the Muricidae. Finally, in late 1981, the silk threads coated in an extremely thin layer of gold leaf were also examined at the Institute Royal du Patrimoine Artistique in Brussels. The leaf was found to be made up of almost pure gold with only a small amount of silver and copper, which is typical of ancient gold. None of these examinations provided any insight into the age of the relics themselves. However, if one assumes that the relics were not wrapped in 1,000-year-old fabric in 1164 and that the ancient diapered silk damask was used for the original burial, which the observations of the Aachen capitular Franz Bock seem to suggest, then one can conclude that the relics that have been venerated as the relics of the Three Holy King since 1164 were obviously held in very high regard in Late Antiquity. Whether the relics were venerated as relics at this time, who the deceased were, and where they were initially buried are questions that cannot be answered at the present time.

The Three Magi 175 Moreover, from a theological viewpoint, the question of their authenticity is not the most decisive aspect. Noted the Provost of Cologne Cathedral Hermann Joseph Hecker in 1953: The genuineness of “relics” is never a doctrinal issue. Those who cannot believe that the relics in Cologne Cathedral are those of the Three Wise Men are not violating the Catholic faith. Nevertheless, they will not fail to regard the relics with reverence; after all, they have been sanctified by veneration through the centuries and can at the very least claim to be symbols of the first people to be called from paganism.33

Notes 1 Quoted in: Floß, Dreikönigenbuch, 16–17. Translated from the German by Aingeal Flanagan M.A. (Cologne). 2 Quoted in: Hofmann, Die Heiligen, 93. 3 On the different versions of the Vita Eustorgii: Ibid., 80–9. 4 Christern, “Dje Hystori”. 5 On the translation of the relics of the Magi from Milan to Cologne: Floß, Dreikönigenbuch, 1–41, and Hofmann, Die Heiligen, 96–114. Most recently: Oepen, “Die Translation”, and older literature. 6 For notes on the translation of the relics, dated 12 June 1621, see: Wieners, “Warhafte Historia”, and Walther, “Die Translationslegende”. 7 On the reservation of the relics of the Magi in the Old Cathedral: Back, “Die Reliquien”, and older literature. 8 Weyres, Die vorgotischen, 217. 9 On the Shrine of the Three Magi’s history, workshop and programme of image, most recently: Lauer, Der Schrein, and Kemper, Die Goldschmiedearbeiten, and, in both cases, with older literature. 10 Torsy, “Achthundert”, 26–35, and Engels, “Die Reliquien”. 11 Hofmann, Die Heiligen, 304–7, and Petersohn, “Der König”. 12 Heyen, Kaiser, and Schmid, Kaiser. 13 Oepen, “Eine großzügige”, 75. 14 Quoted in: “Ein Teppich”, 147. Translated from the German by Aingeal Flanagan M.A. (Cologne). 15 Back, “Die Reliquien”, 23, and Stinnesbeck, “Rekonstruktionszeichnung”. 16 Stinnesbeck, “Fußbodenplatten”. 17 Deml, “Grundriss”, and older literature. 18 Schulten, “Der Ort”; Deml, “Aufstellungsorte”, and older literature; Deml, “Das Gittergehäuse”. 19 Schulten, “Der Ort”, 64–70, and Deml, “Das barocke”. 20 Hardering, “Rheinische”, 64–6, and older literature. 21 Torsy, “Achthundert”, 74–8, and Steuer, “Die Heiligen”. 22 Brinkmann, “Wappenscheibe”, 98. 23 Haasis-Berner and Poettgen, “Die mittelalterlichen”. 24 Hardering, “Kölner Pilgerzeichen”, and Mosler, “Frömmigkeit”. 25 Becks, Deml, and Hardering, Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar, 60–71. 26 Oepen, “Die Öffnung”, 73. 27 From the official report on the opening of the shrine and the reinternment of the relics on 20 July 1864 (Köln, Historisches Archiv des Erzbistums Köln,

176

28 29

30 31 32 33

Klaus Hardering

Metropolitankapitel 839), quoted in: Schulten, “Kölner Reliquien”, 72. Translated from the German by Aingeal Flanagan M.A. (Cologne). Bock, Die textilen, 6: “So unendlich häufig übereinander gerollt [. . .], dass sie fast ein festes Conglomerat bildeten”. Translated from the German by Aingeal Flanagan M.A. (Cologne). On the examination of the fabric and on the fabrics in general: Zieleskiewicz, “Neues über”; Schulten, Der Kölner Domschatz, 115–16; Schulten, “Der Kölner Dreikönigenstoff”, 14; Timmermann, “Seide”, and Schrenk, “Die spätantiken”, with further literature; Schrenk, “Bock”. Vial, Dossier. Wilckens, “Seidenfragmente”. De Jonghe and Tavernier, “Les damassés”, 33–5, 43–5. Hecker, Zur Würdigung, 4, n. 3. Translated from the German by Aingeal Flanagan M.A. (Cologne).

Sources and bibliography Back, U. “Die Reliquien der Heiligen Drei Könige im Alten Dom”. In Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar: 850 Jahre Verehrung der Heiligen Drei Könige im Kölner Dom, edited by L. Becks, M. Deml, and K. Hardering, 22–7. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 2014. Becks, L., M. Deml, and K. Hardering, eds. Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar: 850 Jahre Verehrung der Heiligen Drei Könige im Kölner Dom. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 2014. Bock, F. Die textilen Byssus-Reliquien des christlichen Abendlandes, aufbewahrt in den Kirchen zu Köln, Aachen, Cornelimünster, Mainz und Prag. Aachen: La Ruelle’sche Accidenzdruckerei u. lithographische Anstalt, 1895. Brinkmann, U. “Wappenscheibe aus einem Chorobergadenfenster des Kölner Domes”. In Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar: 850 Jahre Verehrung der Heiligen Drei Könige im Kölner Dom, edited by L. Becks, M. Deml, and K. Hardering, 98. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 2014. Christern, E. “Dje Hystori oder Legend von den Heiligen Dryen Koeningen”. In Achthundert Jahre Verehrung der Heiligen Drei Könige in Köln, 1164–1964, edited by J. Hoster, 180–204. Kölner Domblatt 23–24. Köln: Bachem, 1964. De Jonghe, D., and M. Tavernier. “Les damassés de Palmyre (1)”. Bulletin de Liaison du Centre International d’Étude des Textiles Anciens 54, no. 2 (1981): 20–52. Deml, M. “Aufstellungsorte der Dreikönigsreliquien im gotischen Dom”. In Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar: 850 Jahre Verehrung der Heiligen Drei Könige im Kölner Dom, edited by L. Becks, M. Deml, and K. Hardering, 28–39. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 2014. Deml, M. “Das barocke Dreikönigenmausoleum im Kölner Dom”. Kölner Domblatt 68 (2003): 209–90. Deml, M. “Das Gittergehäuse der Heiligen Drei Könige im Kölner Dom”. Kölner Domblatt 79 (2014): 182–217. Deml, M. “Grundriss des Kölner Domes (Katalognummer I 3)”. In Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar: 850 Jahre Verehrung der Heiligen Drei Könige im Kölner Dom, edited by L. Becks, M. Deml, and K. Hardering, 44–5. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 2014. Engels, O. “Die Reliquien der Heiligen Drei Könige in der Reichspolitik der Staufer”. In Die Heiligen Drei Könige: Darstellung und Verehrung, edited by R. Budde, 33–6. Köln: Wallraf-Richartz-Museum, 1982.

The Three Magi 177 Floß, H.J. Dreikönigenbuch: Die Uebertragung der hh. Dreikönige von Mailand nach Köln. Köln: Verlag der M. DuMont-Schauberg’schen Buchhandlung, 1864. Haasis-Berner, A., and J. Poettgen. “Die mittelalterlichen Pilgerzeichen der Heiligen Drei Könige: Ein Beitrag von Archäologie und Campanologie zur Erforschung der Wallfahrt nach Köln”. Zeitschrift für Archäologie des Mittelalters 30 (2002): 173–202. Hardering, K. “Kölner Pilgerzeichen mit den Heiligen Drei Königen und der hl. Ursula”. In Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar: 850 Jahre Verehrung der Heiligen Drei Könige im Kölner Dom, edited by L. Becks, M. Deml, and K. Hardering, 58. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 2014. Hardering, K. “Rheinische Reliquientumben”. Kölner Domblatt 64 (1999): 55–88. Hecker, H.J. Zur Würdigung der Festoktav der Reliquienübertragung der Hl. Drei Könige. Köln: Verlag für kirchliches Schrifttum, 1953. Heyen, F.-J., ed. Kaiser Heinrichs Romfahrt: Die Bilderchronik von Kaiser Heinrich VII, und Kurfürst Balduin von Luxemburg (1308–1313). Boppard am Rhein: Harald Boldt Verlag, 1965. Hofmann, H. Die Heiligen Drei Könige: Zur Heiligenverehrung im kirchlichen, gesellschaftlichen und politischen Leben des Mittelalters. Rheinisches Archiv 94. Bonn: Ludwig Röhrscheid Verlag, 1975. Kemper, D. Die Goldschmiedearbeiten am Dreikönigenschrein: Bestand und Geschichte seiner Restaurierungen im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert. Studien zum Kölner Dom 11. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 2014. Lauer, R. Der Schrein der Heiligen Drei Könige. Meisterwerke des Kölner Domes 9. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 2006. Mosler, B. “Frömmigkeit – Köln als Pilgerziel”. In Mittelalter in Köln: Eine Auswahl aus den Beständen des Kölnischen Stadtmuseums, edited by W. Schäfke, and M. Trier, 174–7. Köln: Emons, 2010. Oepen, J. “Eine großzügige Stiftung des französischen Königs Ludwig XI. für die Heiligen Drei Könige”. In Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar: 850 Jahre Verehrung der Heiligen Drei Könige im Kölner Dom, edited by L. Becks, M. Deml, and K. Hardering, 75. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 2014. Oepen, J. “Die Öffnung des Dreikönigenschreines 1864”. In Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar: 850 Jahre Verehrung der Heiligen Drei Könige im Kölner Dom, edited by L. Becks, M. Deml, and K. Hardering, 73. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 2014. Oepen, J.“Die Translation der Heiligen Drei Könige”. In Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar: 850 Jahre Verehrung der Heiligen Drei Könige im Kölner Dom, edited by L. Becks, M. Deml, and K. Hardering, 10–13. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 2014. Petersohn, J. “Der König ohne Krone und Mantel: Politische und kulturgeschichtliche Hintergründe der Darstellung Ottos IV. auf dem Kölner Dreikönigenschrein”. In Überlieferung – Frömmigkeit – Bildung als Leitthemen der Geschichtsforschung, edited by J. Petersohn, 43–76. Wiesbaden: L. Reichert, 1987. Schmid, W., ed. Kaiser Heinrichs Romfahrt: Zur Inszenierung von Politik in einer Trierer Bilderhandschrift des 14. Jahrhunderts. Mittelrheinische Hefte 21. Koblenz: Verlag der Landesarchivverwaltung Rheinland-Pfalz, 2000. Schrenk, S. “Bock und Byssus”. Kölner Domblatt 72 (2007): 11–26. Schrenk, S. “Die spätantiken Seiden in der Schatzkammer des Kölner Domes”. Kölner Domblatt 66 (2001): 83–118. Schulten, W. Der Kölner Domschatz. Köln: Greven Verlag, 1980. Schulten, W. “Der Kölner Dreikönigenstoff: Aus Seide im 2. Jahrhundert gewebt”. Bayer-Berichte 47 (1982): 14–19.

178

Klaus Hardering

Schulten, W. “Kölner Reliquien”. In Ornamenta Ecclesiae: Kunst und Künstler der Romanik in Köln, edited by A. Legner. Vol. 2, 61–78. Köln: Schnütgen-Museum, 1985. Schulten, W. “Der Ort der Verehrung der Heiligen Drei Könige”. In Die Heiligen Drei Könige: Darstellung und Verehrung, edited by R. Budde, 61–72. Köln: WallrafRichartz-Museum, 1982. Steuer, H. “Die Heiligen Drei Könige und das Wappen der Stadt Köln”. In Die Heiligen Drei Könige: Darstellung und Verehrung, edited by R. Budde, 97–111. Köln: Wallraf-Richartz-Museum, 1982. Stinnesbeck, R. “Fußbodenplatten aus dem Mittelschiffsbereich des Alten Domes”. In Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar: 850 Jahre Verehrung der Heiligen Drei Könige im Kölner Dom, edited by L. Becks, M. Deml, and K. Hardering, 55. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 2014. Stinnesbeck, R. “Rekonstruktionszeichnung zum Fußboden des Alten Domes”. In Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar: 850 Jahre Verehrung der Heiligen Drei Könige im Kölner Dom, edited by L. Becks, M. Deml, and K. Hardering, 54. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 2014. “Ein Teppich von Kaiser Haile Selassie”. Kölner Domblatt 10 (1955): 147. Timmermann, I. “Seide, Purpur und Gold – Untersuchungen zu den Gewebefragmenten aus dem Schrein der Heiligen Drei Könige im Dom zu Köln”. In Die Heiligen Drei Könige: Darstellung und Verehrung, edited by R. Budde, 115–25. Köln: Wallraf-Richartz-Museum, 1982. Torsy, J. “Achthundert Jahre Dreikönigenverehrung in Köln”. Kölner Domblatt 23–24 (1964): 15–162. Vial, G. Dossier de recensement. Lyon, 1978 [unpublished work]. Walther, T. “Die Translationslegende der Gebeine der heiligen Gervasius und Protasius von Mailand nach Breisach durch Rainald von Dassel”. Unser Münster: Breisacher Stadtpatrone Gervasius + Protasius 50 (2014): 56–61. Weyres, W. Die vorgotischen Bischofskirchen in Köln. Studien zum Kölner Dom 1. Köln: Verlag Kölner Dom, 1988. Wieners, T.H.T. “Warhafte Historia und Geschicht. Die Breisacher Translationsnotiz über die Stadtpatrone Gervasius und Protasius”. Unser Münster: Der Reliquienschrein der Heiligen Gervasius und Protasius 42 (2009): 10–12. Wilckens, L. von. “Seidenfragmente aus dem Schrein der Heiligen Drei Könige (Katalognummer D 67)”. In Ornamenta Ecclesiae: Kunst und Künstler der Romanik in Köln, edited by A. Legner. Vol. 2, 86. Köln: Schnütgen-Museum, 1985. Zieleskiewicz, P. “Neues über die Dreikönigs-Reliquien”. Kölner Domblatt 44–45 (1979–1980): 451–3.

Part 3

The resilience of relics and shrines

10 Mobile martyrs and forgotten shrines The translation and domestication of relics in post-reformation England Alexandra Walsham

“The Protestant and Catholic Reformations”, it has been remarked, “vigorously stirred Europe’s pool of relics”.1 In countries that officially embraced or were convulsed by the reformed faith, vicious polemical assaults upon the cult of saints were accompanied by programmes of iconoclastic destruction designed to remove dangerous obstacles and “stumbling blocks” to true devotion to Christ. Famous shrines were defaced and hallowed remains housed in elaborate reliquaries were publicly exposed as forgeries and fakes and ceremoniously thrown onto bonfires of vanities. Others were rescued by conservatives and conveyed to havens across territorial borders or overseas. The mental and physical scars left by these official assaults, which sought to consign the medieval past to oblivion, were among the most tangible legacies left by the Reformation. The initial Catholic response to the reformers’ crusade against idolatry was shock, embarrassment, and caution: a mood of humanist restraint and a temporary hiatus in saint-making that lasted from 1523 to 1588.2 This coincided with suspicion and doubt about the status of bits of bloody flesh and bone traditionally revered by the faithful, not to mention mundane objects that had merely touched these bodily remains. The Council of Trent defended the value and legitimacy of these aspects of traditional devotion in a decree of 1563 but sought to suppress the “superstitious” abuses that had brought them into scandalous disrepute.3 The procedure for canonization was tightened, hagiographical narratives were rigorously scrutinized and purged of error, and the authentication and display of relics became the subject of unprecedented ecclesiastical regulation.4 By the late 16th century, however, as the Church of Rome regained confidence and moved into a more militant phase, it began to brandish the very features of Catholic piety repudiated by Protestants as key weapons in its campaign of CounterReformation and to reassert their contested intercessory role. As in the medieval era, corporeal and contact relics were individual parts that stood for the whole, touchstones and channels of the invisible presence of the holy dead. In its heartlands in Italy and Spain, the vestiges of the saints gained fresh prominence as confessional symbols and as focal points for sensual worship and popular devotion. Royal possession of the sacred and political sponsorship of shrines helped to fuse Baroque piety with patriotic feeling.5

182 Alexandra Walsham In regions that underwent re-Catholicization, such as Bavaria, Bohemia, and the Upper Palatinate, pilgrimage was promoted as “spiritual medicine for heretical poison” and relics were harnessed as instruments of collective and individual Catholic renewal.6 The need to fill the void left by outbreaks of sectarian violence led to a busy traffic in relics around the continent. Many were relocated from the shrine of St Ursula and the 11,000 virgins at Cologne, while the discovery of the Roman catacombs in 1578 provided a new warehouse of holy bones for Catholic Europe to which many resorted to replenish cathedrals and churches ravaged in the religious wars in France, the Habsburg Netherlands, and the Holy Roman Empire.7 Significant quantities were transported to assist the missionaries planting the Catholic faith and converting indigenous peoples in the Far East and the New World. The material culture of holiness spoke a symbolic and affective language that transcended the babel of unknown tongues and proved to be a very successful evangelical tool.8 This, then, was an age of relic translation: of what Simon Ditchfield has called “martyrs on the move”.9 The current essay investigates a distinctive set of variations on these wider European themes. It explores how Catholics responded to the profound Protestant attack on relics and pilgrimages to them in the context of England – a society in which (despite the short-lived efforts of Mary I between 1553 and 1558) they remained an embattled and persecuted minority, albeit one that never gave up hope that the monarch and nation might be reconverted by dynastic alliance or invasion, persuasion or force. It examines what happened to the cultures of religious mobility and devotion to holy things after the Henrician schism with Rome in 1534 and the more emphatic Reformation of theological belief and liturgical practice that gathered pace in the reigns of his Protestant heirs, Edward VI and Elizabeth I. The official edicts issued by these monarchs, backed up by the injunctions of their bishops, targeted the “monuments” of “superstition” to which the laity flocked, while sermons, homilies, and polemical tracts denounced relics as diabolical devices for deluding the credulous masses. The stripping of the altars was accompanied by a concerted attempt to convince the populace that most hallowed objects were worthless rubbish.10 How far was it possible for the members of the beleaguered and clandestine community to which English Catholicism was reduced in the later 16th century to perpetuate these patterns of piety in a climate that was ideologically hostile to them? The discussion that follows seeks to answer this question by analyzing the afterlife of a leading medieval cult of martyrdom alongside the evolution of new traditions of devotion associated with the bodily remains of secular priests and Jesuits who, beginning with Cuthbert Mayne in 1576, were put to death by the Protestant state. The cults that arose around these men and the laypeople executed for succouring them were unofficial ones that only secured papal endorsement centuries later. This chapter argues that relics not only became self-conscious badges of identity and belonging but also migrated from the public into the private sphere with some intriguing consequences. Finding asylum within the home,

Mobile martyrs and forgotten shrines

183

they served simultaneously to sacralize it and to transform it into a site of political resistance. The same conditions assisted in reconfiguring pilgrimage, displacing it from formal ecclesiastical precincts into other domains and turning it inwards not just into the realm of writing and text, but also into that of memory and the imagination. I. The cult of Thomas Becket, the 12th archbishop of Canterbury who clashed with King Henry II over the rights and privileges of the Church, appealed over his head to the papacy and foreign powers, and was assassinated in his cathedral in 1170, was the most high-profile casualty of the English Reformation in its opening decade. In the course of the Middle Ages, his celebrated tomb and shrine in Canterbury had become a leading destination of international pilgrims seeking indulgences and hoping for divine intercession in the guise of healing miracles. His cult engendered smaller satellites all over the country: over 80 parish churches were dedicated to him and many more were decorated with murals and stained glass windows commemorating the untimely death that led to his canonization as a martyr only a few years later.11 Sites connected with his life sprang up along the routes traversed by travellers, and his primary and secondary relics were eagerly sought after by religious houses: the abbey at Bury St Edmunds in Suffolk, for instance, possessed his penknife and boots.12 Singled out by Henry VIII for particular mention in the religious legislation that implemented his idiosyncratic Reformation, Becket was a symbolic victim of the king’s claim to royal supremacy and his rejection of the papacy’s usurped jurisdiction over the English Church.13 As a churchman who had stood up to his monarch to defend papal authority, Becket’s actions embodied a stance that the regime had redefined as treasonous. His denunciation as a pseudo-saint and false martyr built upon an older heretical vein of criticism that found expression among the lollard followers of John Wyclif in the 15th century, who overtly derided him as a traitor, thief, and murderer, declared that he was “dampned in hell”, and said that those who visited his shrine were offering their souls to the devil.14 A proclamation of 1538 ordered the obliteration of Becket from sight and memory and specified that his name and image were to be erased and expunged from liturgical books, as well as ecclesiastical buildings, “to the intent that his grace’s loving subjects shall be no longer blindly led and abused to commit idolatry”.15 Surviving missals and primers provide ample evidence of how this censorship was carried out, albeit often in a perfunctory fashion.16 In Canterbury, his tomb was smashed to bits, but the fate of his bones still remains a mystery. The rumour that they had been ceremoniously burnt and his ashes scattered to the winds ran rife in diplomatic correspondence and quickly reached Rome. It was specifically referred to in the papal bull excommunicating Henry VIII: Thomas Mayer has argued persuasively that this atrocity tale was almost single-handedly invented by Cardinal Reginald

184 Alexandra Walsham Pole.17 But an alternative story that they had simply been buried in a secret place to prevent their continuing exposure also circulated, inspiring many subsequent attempts to find and recover them.18 Their very absence served as a stimulus to anti-Protestant outrage and pious devotion. Catholics responded to the assault on Becket’s cult by continuing to revere the mutilated images and abandoned buildings linked with Becket that lingered in the landscape. Their disfigurement and dilapidation made them as much martyrs as the archbishop himself – architectural martyrs to the sacrilege committed by zealous reformers. People continued to frequent and pray at sites linked with him, which became the focus for feelings of indignation, anger, and loss. In the mid-Elizabethan period, Thomas Colwell fulfilled a vow to undertake a pilgrimage to Canterbury to visit the holy places, taking his eldest son to see the remnants of Becket’s shrine at Canterbury and the crumbling monastic precincts, disappearing to “a sacred place among the walls” to do penance for having offended God by living in a former religious cell.19 As in the Netherlands, even when all physical traces of such sites had disappeared, some conservatives and Catholics persisted in making illicit ritual visits to them, circumambulating them in accordance with tradition and carrying their rosary beads to aid their meditations. They redirected devotion to locations in the natural landscape: to springs, trees, and other topographical features where the only surviving trace of his once vibrant cult was a place name.20 At Otford in Kent, local legends survived about the holy well that had gushed forth at his behest, to the irritation of the Elizabethan Protestant lawyer William Lambarde, who contemptuously recorded this and other “Canterbury Tales” to expose the “deceivable trumpery” by which the medieval papacy had perverted the ignorant laity.21 In mid-17th century Wiltshire, a path that remained visible even when it was covered by a blanket of snow was still being explained as a lasting memorial to the route once taken by Thomas Becket.22 Others tried to preserve a record of hallowed places and objects that they feared would soon be forgotten. Iconoclasm served as a stimulus to Catholic antiquarianism. It inspired the recusant gentleman Sir Thomas Habington to describe in writing the mural of the archbishop painted on the walls of a hermitage carved into a cliff in Worcestershire: his aim was “to preasarve [. . .] within thease paper walles what that strong rocke cannot keepe”.23 Such individuals sought to replace the monuments of brass and marble destroyed by Protestants with memorials made of ink and parchment. Their visits to inspect and record such sites were themselves sacred journeys and the facsimiles they produced in image and writing must in turn be understood as a species of secondary relic. The very concept of relic was evolving in the wake of ideological and cultural changes, and as the period progressed, some members of the Church of England themselves came to feel that it was imperative to keep the memory of the medieval past alive. Reproducing a manuscript drawing of Becket’s shrine now in the British Library, William Dugdale’s famous Monasticon Anglicanum, published in the midst of the Cromwellian Interregnum in 1655, is a revealing example (Figure 10.1).24 It reflected a growing fascination with

Figure 10.1 The shrine of Thomas Becket prior to demolition Source: Illustration based on London, British Library, Cotton MS Tiberius E. VIII, f. 278v; Dodsworth and Dugdale, Monasticon Anglicanum, 20–1, second plate. Reproduced by permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University Library: Classmark R.1. 15

186 Alexandra Walsham historical antiquities that saw some vestiges of the saints find a place in cabinets of curiosities. The reliquaries in which they enclosed were revalued as pieces of art and the jewels that had once adorned their shrines were converted to secular jewels. The ruby given by Louis VII in 1179, for instance, became a thumb ring for King Henry VIII himself.25 These trends complicated the process by which, within 20 years of the suppression of the cult, Becket’s memory was overlaid with a range of potent new associations. The burial of the remains of the papal legate and architect of the Marian Counter-Reformation Reginald Pole in the chapel of St Thomas at Canterbury in 1558 fostered an analogy between the two men and merged his revolt against the king in the 12th century with the recollection of more recent events. Against the backdrop of the Catholic mission launched by William Allen, Becket became a rallying point for resistance to Protestantism. Hailed by the leading Catholic historian and hagiographer Caesar Baronius as “a most perfect Patern of a good Pastor, yea and of a good subject too”, an “undaunted Champion of the Church”, and a glorious martyr, his image was incorporated in the altarpiece by Duranti Alberti in the church of the English College at Rome, as the kneeling fgure beneath Christ, whose sacrifce should inspire those training to return to England to reclaim her for Rome regardless of the grave dangers they would inevitably face. Here he appeared as an emblem of baroque spirituality and Tridentine militancy. This was a 12th-century martyr who was reinvented as a Counter-Reformation saint and presented as a model for emulation.26 His spirited resistance to the Erastian claims of the crown aligned well with the ultramontane pretensions of the early modern papacy. As surviving 17th-century silver medals demonstrate, Becket also became intimately linked with Thomas More, whose execution by Henry VIII for rejecting the royal supremacy was explicitly compared with the assassination of the archbishop.27 These parallels were developed at some length by Thomas Stapleton in Tres Thomae in 1588, a triple biography in Latin that has recently been read as an attempt to intervene in the febrile politics of the Armada era as well as to vindicate Becket’s reputation. As a figure who had himself sought refuge in northern France (where a cult linked with a wonder-working reliquary centred at Hesdin near Douai still flourished), Becket had inherent appeal for the English refugees.28 In Paris, he likewise served to cement links between exiles and their hosts, especially those connected with the Guise and the League, providing a focus for devotion that was edged with active subversion. Preserved at the abbey of St Victor, his relics – a pair of gloves, a comb, and some bones – helped to unite early modern Catholics from across the increasingly fractured Christendom.29 So too did those that had long been preserved in other prominent churches on the continent. At St Peter’s in Rome, for instance, visitors could see the dalmatic he was wearing when he was murdered, alongside bits of his brain and droplets of his blood.30 Other Becket relics had been conveyed overseas

Mobile martyrs and forgotten shrines

187

more recently, to escape the storm of the Reformation, and were absorbed into the collections of foreign rulers, cathedrals, and monasteries. Many of these were stored in the expatriate religious houses established in the Low Countries, France, and the Iberian Peninsula until they could be returned to an England that their occupants confidently anticipated would eventually be reconciled to Rome. The Bridgettines in Lisbon held one of his arms in veneration and reverently kept his feast day and adopted him as their celestial patron.31 The distribution and presence of these hallowed fragments helped to bind together a community that was highly scattered.32 To echo Peter Brown’s remarks regarding the late Roman empire, their movements provide “a faithful ‘trace element’ that enables [the historian] to taken an X-ray photography of the intricate systems of patronage, alliance and gift-giving” that linked this diaspora.33 Many more seem to have disappeared and found their way into the hands of pious laypeople who became their custodians, awaiting the day when the Reformation was reversed and they could be reinstalled in splendid monuments for public veneration. The trajectories and journeys undertaken by these salvaged remnants of Becket’s cult remain obscure and only occasionally emerge from the shadows. As an inventory taken following an official raid on her home in the Jacobean period revealed, the devout Catholic lady Anne Vaux possessed a piece of his hair-shirt, among other medieval remains of the saints. This may have been a precious family heirloom, like the silver reliquary containing a piece of his skull, together with a mitre studded with precious stones that was in the safekeeping of a gentleman in the later 16th century, who had it repaired and finely decorated at his own expense. In gratitude, the Jesuits permitted the man to hold it in trust for the Society in his private chapel.34 His home, which was also a place of sanctuary for itinerant priests, thus became a kind of shrine and reliquary itself.35 The 17th century saw the production and dissemination of a series of fine continental engravings recalling Becket’s death. Serving as substitutes for the statues and paintings that had been expelled from public buildings and spaces by royal order in the 1530s, these two-dimensional images also helped to facilitate the partial shift of his cult into the recusant household, into which Catholic worship was compelled to retreat. Portable objects and images perpetuated devotion to him in a context from which his bodily relics had been brutally extinguished.36 Becket’s cult had always been a pan-European one, but the effect of the Reformation was to internationalize it further as well as to transform it. The destruction of his elaborate tomb at Canterbury removed its central focus, and many local physical touchstones to his memory had been obliterated, but English Catholic veneration of him continued covertly in other settings both with and without the presence of relics. Merely remembering a figure whose fate was so closely entangled with the dismantling of the Church of Rome was an act of resistance. It defied the Protestant claim that Becket was a false traitor rather than a holy martyr. The violent circumstances and

188 Alexandra Walsham political context of his demise resonated powerfully with those of the priests executed by the Elizabethan and Stuart regimes, to whom we now turn. II. Hung, drawn, and quartered as traitors who had perverted the monarch’s subjects and withdrawn them from loyalty to their sovereign, such men were instantly recognized by Catholics as martyrs of the faith. The heroic sacrifices they made on the scaffold elevated them into saints in the eyes of those who witnessed their deaths, long before the papacy formalized this in the 20th century. Martyrological narratives circulated in manuscript and print, Latin and English, and images of the sufferings of the celebrated Jesuit Edmund Campion and others became etched on the European imagination through the graphic engravings of Richard Verstegan and Giovanni Battista de Cavalleris.37 The blood they shed on behalf of the faith was widely expected to water the seed of the Church. Their deaths gave rise to a fresh supply of relics to fill the vacuum left by the purge of hallowed bodies and bones carried out by the Protestant reformers a generation earlier. And these were explicitly conceived as ammunition in the struggle to reverse the Reformation: as the Jesuit Robert Southwell declared, “Our deade quarters [. . .] confound youre heresye [. . .] and our dead bones, as Ezekiell prophesied, are come to be exercitus grandis a huge army”.38 The thaumaturgic powers with which they were credited made them an effective stick with which to beat heretics who insisted that “miracles had ceased”.39 The authorities tried hard to prevent the growth of spontaneous new cults connected with the 16th- and 17th-century Catholic martyrs. Often they ordered the incineration of all body parts, garments, and even the straw under the scaffold, or tried to deter relic hunters by burying the corpses in dunghills or beneath the rotting carcasses of common felons and criminals. But the faithful were relentless and zealous in their attempts to acquire precious remnants of the missionary priests. Cardinal William Allen wrote of the “godly greedy appetite of holy persons of divers nations” for their bodily remains, and some went to extreme lengths to obtain their dismembered limbs, including bribing executioners and carrying out nocturnal excavations to reclaim them.40 Some were lucky enough to catch the girdles, spectacles, and rosary beads priests threw to onlookers before they mounted the gallows. The very signatures of dead martyrs became a focus for reverence.41 In turn, scribally copied narratives of the lives and deaths of the English missionaries acquired an aura of sanctity themselves. The tendency for paper to become a form of both relic and reliquary was pronounced in a culture in which books functioned as “dumb preachers” and as surrogates for priests.42 By the Jacobean era, operations to recover the remains of the martyrs were highly organized. They were coordinated by the Spanish noblewoman Luisa de Carvajal, who also employed sophisticated techniques to preserve them before arranging their shipment overseas.43 Some salvaged relics, including the body of the Staffordshire seminary priest Thomas Maxfield executed

Mobile martyrs and forgotten shrines

189

in 1616, passed into the hands of foreign ambassadors, including Diego de Sarmiento de Acuña, later Count of Gondomar. He took it back with him to Spain when he left England in 1622 and installed it in his family oratory. One of his successors in this role, Count Egmont, was also an avid collector of relics of the 11 martyrs whose deaths he personally witnessed in the 1640s.44 Their cults were readily assimilated into wider European discourses of sanctity that were undergoing a spirited revival. The accounts of their lives and deaths published in various vernaculars, including Spanish, French, and Italian, appealed to a church that revelled in the heroic sufferings of its sons and daughters around the world.45 Weaving a dense web that connected the continent with the British Isles, other relics were kept in the custody of the Jesuits or of the English religious houses overseas, where they were revered as sources of thaumaturgic power. Often donated by the relatives of the martyrs themselves who entered as novices, they assisted in welding these communities with the glue of a shared history of persecution.46 Others were evidently acquired by ordinary laypeople in England. It has been argued that one paradoxical consequence of the disestablishment of Catholicism here was to make relics more rather than less accessible to the laity than they had been in the Middle Ages, to expand rather than contract the opportunities they had for seeing and touching the holy.47 If possessing the sacred was generally the privilege of the wealthy and powerful in Europe’s Catholic heartlands, in England, relic ownership seems to have been a broader social phenomenon. The handkerchiefs soaked with blood, scraps of flesh, and discarded clothes and belongings of the martyrs became the subjects of an intimate form of devotion that occurred not in the public setting of an ecclesiastical building, subject to clerical supervision and regulation, but in the clandestine space of the home. Anne Dacre, the Countess of Arundel, wore a relic of Robert Southwell closely about her person, concealed in the folds of her clothing.48 A token of her devotion to the Jesuit, it was also a kind of amulet against the perils faced by Catholics living in a Protestant state. Lovingly made embroidered reliquaries like one that still survives in Stonyhurst College became miniature household shrines that could be hastily hidden from view.49 These processes must be set against the backdrop of an elaborate material culture of domestic devotion that was burgeoning across Catholic Europe as a whole. Tangible objects that formed a focus for meditation, operated as conduits to the divine, and sanctified the environments in which people lived, worked, and prayed were proliferating on an unprecedented scale, feeding an intensification of family piety that has often been neglected in conventional narratives of Tridentine Catholicism that dwell on episcopal and institutional initiatives.50 Yet in a context in which the Church of Rome was an illicit and prohibited religion, these tendencies acquired additional charge and seditious resonance. In England, where the very presence of icons and sacramentals was regarded as incriminating evidence of treachery and disaffection, to own such artefacts was to place oneself in danger of arrest. The acquisition and preservation of actual bodily remains of the subversive

190 Alexandra Walsham agents of a proscribed faith was, accordingly, even more provocative and perilous. Regularly seized by the pursuivants who raided recusant homes, relics became tokens of ideological deviance. The ritual practices that developed in these settings also deserve attention. Robert Southwell’s Short Rule of Good Life, first published in 1596–7, advised the devout to consecrate particular rooms to the memory of the saints, to the end that they might be “a continuall bridle to restraine” their occupants from “irreverent demeanure” and impure thoughts. He recommended that the faithful make little itineraries within the walls of their homes and grounds of their estates.51 Carried out in spaces that were beyond the surveillance of Protestant authorities and prying neighbours, these were sacred journeys that transcended the constraints of a regime of persecution that severely restricted the movements of the most obstinate Catholics. Under a statute of 1593, convicted recusants were not permitted to travel beyond a five-mile radius of their own homes.52 Such practices constituted a different kind of what Alphonse Dupront once called “the therapy of distance”.53 While the internalization of pilgrimage was a wider tendency, especially among the religious,54 it was also one that was particularly well suited to the straitened circumstances of a repressed minority. A metaphor for the Christian journey from cradle to grave itself, when it took place in the inviolable sphere of the mind it lay beyond the reach of the state. But the desire of the laity to be in physical proximity with the sacred remained intense, compelling many forms of furta sacra, or pious theft.55 The secular and ecclesiastical buildings inside which the relics of the English martyrs resided were accordingly transformed into treasuries of holy objects and sanctified by their presence. In turn, the secret places that Catholics built into cupboards and stairwells in their homes to conceal priests came to be seen reliquaries themselves: later generations revered them as lieux de mémoires.56 In turn, some devout laypeople came to regard the missionaries who risked their lives to dispense the sacraments as living relics, in much the same way as the cloistered nuns who devoted their lives to praying for their country’s rescue from the clutches of heresy.57 The Counter-Reformation shrines of the English Catholic community were not elaborate baroque monuments but the monasteries and convents abroad and the manor houses of the gentry in which the clergy found refuge. The presence of hunted priests hallowed other spaces too. The Jesuit William Weston recalled how Catholics came to Wisbech castle in Norfolk where many captured missionaries were imprisoned “from every part of the kingdom, some as to a holy place, undertaking a kind of pilgrimage”. Mrs Jane Wiseman, who brought her two daughters to be blessed before they entered convents abroad, “did repent that she had not gone barefooted thither”.58 Similarly, when several Spanish diplomats came to visit Thomas Maxfield in his London gaol, they fell on their knees and kissed his hands, chains, and the very ground “that toucht his sacred footsteps”.59 Unsurprisingly, the sites at which such men were martyred quickly became venerated locations. People went “as it were on pilgrimage to the places” where the priests’ quarters or

Mobile martyrs and forgotten shrines

191

head were set up on spikes and performed devotions and prayers there.60 A York butcher’s wife called Margaret Clitherow made secret penitential journeys to the gallows at Knavesmire half a mile outside the city on which several priests had been executed in 1582 under cover of darkness.61 Above all, though, it was to Tyburn in London that Catholic pilgrims came and relics of the wood of the gallows became almost as sought after as the martyrs’ bodies themselves. A piece of its timber was brought by the Jesuits, who deeply revered it “because it had been honoured by so many of their brethren”, to the Bridgettines in Portugal.62 The most high-profile visitor to the site itself was Queen Henrietta Maria, who came here in 1626. Some said that she walked part of the way barefoot (in a penance ordered by her confessor) and that she had prayed openly that God might “give hir grace with the like Companie to die for hir Religion that those Martyrs had done before in that place”. According to others, the impulse for her visit was a desire to see where Henry Garnet, the Jesuit executed for his alleged part in the Gunpowder Plot, was put death in 1605.63 To some fearful Protestants, the queen’s pilgrimage seemed a prelude to the reconversion of England to Rome. Had that event come to pass under the Catholic king James II, Tyburn might well have been elevated to the status of a major shrine and endowed with royal patronage like its counterparts in continental Europe.64 The constitutional revolution of 1689, however, brought an end to realistic hopes of a successful English Counter-Reformation. The piety of relics and pilgrimages was obliged to remain secretive and surreptitious. III. The final section of this chapter illustrates the longevity of the patterns of translation and domestication described in the foregoing paragraphs and their legacies in more recent social memory by placing the cult of one 17thcentury martyr under the microscope. This is Edmund Arrowsmith, a missionary priest born to Catholic parents in the parish of Winwick near Warrington, who studied at Douai College and returned to England to work in his native county of Lancashire in 1613. Arrested in 1622 and examined by the Bishop of Chester before being pardoned and released, he later became a Jesuit. Betrayed by a husband and wife, he was apprehended for a second time in 1628 on Brindle Moss, tried before Sir Henry Yelverton, and convicted and executed.65 The hagiographical narratives that circulated in Latin, English, and French in manuscript and print described the signs of divine approbation of the martyr.66 These included the light that streamed along the road from the gaol to the gallows in the sight of a fellow prisoner, his apparition to the Benedictine monk, Ambrose Barlow who prophesied his own death in 1641, and the sudden providential punishment of the puritan magistrate who had presided over his trial, watched his hanging through a telescope, and allegedly ordered his mangled limbs to be brought to the table where he was dining on venison.67 The divine judgement that befell the martyr’s most passionate Protestant persecutor became an integral component of Catholic devotion to him.

192 Alexandra Walsham Arrowsmith’s head and quarters were displayed on spikes above Lancaster Castle. But devotees and disciples nevertheless found ways of obtaining precious remnants of the priest. Fragments of his hair and pieces of his ribs were acquired when plumbers went up on the roof to mend the leads. A handkerchief was dipped in his blood by an eye-witness, one Henry Holme, on behalf of a priest, to whom he sent it and other relics, testifying earnestly to its authenticity. A letter to the Privy Council suggests that the executioner’s knife and the martyr’s clothes came into the possession of Sir Cuthbert Clifton of Lytham Hall. Other belongings and bits of bone and flesh were harvested and passed to friends and relatives, who in turn kept them as heirlooms. Arrowsmith’s right hand passed to members of his maternal family, the Gerards of Bryn Hall, who preserved it in their home for several generations, lending it out to their Catholic co-religionists in times of emergency and need.68 Such relics carried with them the dark shadows of their origin, evoking the violent death the martyr had suffered at the hands of the Caroline regime. In late 17th-century and 18th-century Lancashire, the holy hand became famous for performing medical miracles, and parents borrowed it in the hope that it would help their ailing children. “A true and exact relation” of the cure of a 12-year-old boy called Thomas Hawarden crippled as a result of a hectic fever in 1736 was published with a new edition of his life the following year. This told how the relic had been brought to the house in a box and stroked down the back of her son by his mother. His rapid recovery to full strength was witnessed by Protestant tailors at work in an adjoining room as well as by people from the surrounding neighbourhood who flocked there in great numbers upon hearing the news.69 This incident served to cement the reputation of the relic for working wonders, and in 1768, Mary Fletcher attested to her own recovery from lameness and associated complaints through Arrowsmith’s intercession.70 As time progressed, the linen cloths in which the hand was wrapped took on the status of secondary or contact relics, absorbing its virtues in a process of holy contagion, and were themselves credited with effecting miracles. Visitors who came from as far afield as Ireland carried home with them pieces of fabric that had had touched the hallowed limb, which they tore into shreds and distributed to those who could not afford to make the journey themselves.71 These were processes of pious fragmentation that had no official sanction but which served to disperse devotion to Arrowsmith beyond Catholic Lancashire. It was not until the 19th century that the holy hand passed from the Gerard family into the care of the clergy, who kept it in the presbytery at Ashton-in-Makefield before transferring it to St Oswald’s chapel, which was built in 1822, where it reputedly continued to perform miracles.72 For more than 200 years, this was a local cult centred on a mobile relic that was kept in domestic rather than ecclesiastical custody. Its obscure provenance and uncertain status were no bar to its capacity to catalyze the devotion of a repressed faith community, which repeatedly remade it in its own image.

Mobile martyrs and forgotten shrines

193

Nor did this cult remain static or wither. By the 19th century, it was said that Arrowsmith had asked his spiritual attendant to cut off his right hand, predicting that it would have the power to work miraculous cures for true believers.73 This little embellishment of the narrative is itself an index of the vigour of the tradition of sanctity that accumulated around him. The discovery of new relics gave a further fillip to his identity as a celebrated martyr, especially following Catholic Emancipation in 1829. In 1841 a set of vestments, two altar stones and a chalice were found in the wall of an attic of a recusant house; not long afterwards a “pedlar’s chest” or trunk containing several chasubles, mass equipment, and a rosary bracelet came to light in Samlesbury Hall, near Preston, though its connection with Arrowsmith is more tenuous (Figure 10.2).74 These relics were eventually given to Stonyhurst College, but others remained in the safe-keeping of Catholic laypeople, including a purple vestment preserved by the Walmesley family, which was reverently laid on the bed of a woman in childbirth to assist a difficult delivery.75 Another was a portable altar on which the Jesuit was alleged to have often celebrated the Eucharist in the vicinity of Brindle. When Bede Camm visited the region in the early 20th century, this object had been inherited by a member of the Burgess family of Denham Hall, who now lived in Boltonle-Sands.76 Arrowsmith’s relics continued to resist being kept under clerical control in a society where Catholicism remained a disadvantaged minority.

Figure 10.2 “The Pedlar’s Chest” Source: Trunk with vestments and mass equipment traditionally associated with Edmund Arrowsmith. Stonyhurst College Collections. By permission of the Governors of Stonyhurst College

194 Alexandra Walsham Sites and buildings linked with the Lancashire priest were likewise revered, including the house in Gregson Lane in Brindle in which he had said his last mass and the dark upper room under the thatch that served as his illicit oratory. It was reported that the image of a cross periodically appeared on the wall of the room. Other domestic residences and farmhouses where Arrowsmith had dispensed the sacraments were similarly embedded in sacred remembrance, together with the hiding places in which he had eluded his pursuers, notably the Blue Anchor Inn. Reminiscent of ancient hagiographical tales, a further tradition described how during a dispute with the Protestant vicar, he had left a lasting imprint of his boot on the exterior wall of the church, attesting to the truth of the religion he defended and taught.77 Camm’s own visit to Catholic Lancashire to trace the footsteps of the martyrs was itself a type of pilgrimage. Conscious of the ephemerality of oral tradition, he recorded the stories that people still told regarding the “forgotten shrines” consecrated to the memory of Edmund Arrowsmith that had been “guarded with jealous care” by their possessors over the centuries.78 Fusing devotion and antiquarianism, it was as an attempt to protect them in the protective aspic of writing and to document and fix the material traces of the saint in print. Attesting to the local vitality of Arrowsmith’s cult, which was finally given papal sanction by his beatification in 1929 and canonization in 1970, memory of his physical and topographical relics persists. Linking the early modern past with the present, it is still a living tissue of belief and pious myth.79 In conclusion, this chapter has illuminated how the Catholics of Protestant England responded to the violent assault upon the culture of hallowed places and objects inaugurated by the Reformation. Reinforcing Frances Dolan’s insight that English Catholics were compelled to adopt “a more tactical and fluid relation to space” and to embrace more clandestine forms of religious practice in the wake of the Reformation,80 it has delineated some of the ways in which these key features of Counter-Reformation piety adapted themselves to survive in a hostile environment. The destruction of medieval shrines such as Thomas Becket’s at Canterbury severely disrupted but did not undermine devotion to their cults. On the contrary, it sometimes intensified it, stimulating ritual visits to their ruined vestiges, prompting efforts to preserve a record of the demolished monument and the archbishop’s missing bones in writing and image, and reconfiguring his cult around his surviving relics dispersed around the continent. The experience of persecution also engendered a substantial new supply of primary and secondary relics associated with the missionary priests put to death by the Tudor and Stuart regime and helped to forge fresh traditions of pilgrimage. It served to drive these practices into the private sphere of the household and to enhance their mobility. Relics had been a form of “portable Christianity” from the beginning,81 but the conditions created by the advent of Protestantism in England fostered their kinetic quality further. The restless circulation of sacred blood, bones, and belongings around the English Catholic underground and its

Mobile martyrs and forgotten shrines

195

diaspora overseas was emblematic of the itinerant and unsettled nature of the community itself. It also reflected the dynamic processes of translatio that were a hallmark of early modern Catholic Christianity as a whole.82 Relics helped to connect the members of this minority movement with their co-religionists in Counter-Reformation Europe and to imbue them with hope that that their nation would eventually be reunited with the Church of Rome. As time progressed and this possibility faded from view, such devotions became constituent features of a culture of religious resistance that made its headquarters in the recusant home.

Notes 1 2 3 4

Johnson, “Holy Fabrications”, 275. Burke, “How to Become”. The Canons and Decrees, 216–17. On authentication, see Olds, “The Ambiguities”. More broadly, see Ditchfield, “Tridentine Worship”, and Ditchfield, “Thinking with Saints”. 5 Lazure, “Possessing the Sacred”. 6 Soergel, Wondrous in His Saints, esp. chap. 6, 159–216; Louthan, Converting Bohemia, chap. 8, 245–76; Johnson, Magistrates, Madonnas, chaps. 9–10, 237–70, 271–91. 7 See esp. Johnson, “Holy Fabrications”; Baciocchi and Duhamelle, Reliques romaines, and Hillman, “St Pientia”. 8 See Duteil, “Reliques et objets”; Evangelisti, “Material Culture”, 401–7, and Ditchfield, “Translating Christianity”. 9 Ditchfield, “Martyrs on the Move”. 10 For the early Reformation campaign against relics, see Duffy, The Stripping, 384–5, 390, 407, 414–15, 431. See also Walsham, “Skeletons in the Cupboard”, and Walsham, “The Pope’s Merchandise”. 11 See Finucane, Miracles and Pilgrims, 121–6, 162–6; Duggan, Thomas Becket: Friends, and Duggan, Thomas Becket. 12 Three Chapters of Letters, 85. The enamelled reliquary chests that survive in several European museums are further evidence of the demand for relics of Becket: e.g. British Museum, no. 1854,0411. 13 See Roberts, “Thomas Becket”; Scully, “The Unmaking”, and Parish, Monks, Miracles, 92–105. 14 See Davis, “Lollards”. Becket’s status as a martyr was directly questioned in Twelve Propositions of 1395: Finucane, Miracles and Pilgrims, 210–11. 15 Hughes and Larkin, Tudor Royal, 275–6. See also Roberts, “Politics”. 16 See Duffy, Marking the Hours, chap. 9, 147–70, and Mézerac-Zanetti, “Liturgical”. 17 Mayer, “Becket’s”. For an older account, see Pollen, “Henry VIII”. 18 Butler, The Quest, esp. chaps. 7–9, 109–34, 156–68. 19 Historical Manuscripts Commission, 311. 20 See the engraving by Frederik de Wit, first published Amsterdam c. 1690, showing pilgrims encircling the ruined shrine of Our Lady of Runxputte near Heiloo in the Netherlands: Museum Catharijneconvent, Utrecht. See also Frijhoff, Embodied Belief, 235–73. 21 Lambarde, A Perambulation, 374–5. 22 Aubrey, The Natural History, 37. 23 Habington, A Survey, 17. 24 London, British Library, Cotton MS Tiberius E. VIII, f. 278v; Dodsworth and Dugdale, Monasticon Anglicanum, 20–1, second plate.

196 Alexandra Walsham 25 Duggan, Thomas Becket, 239. On these processes more generally, see Woolf, The Social Circulation, 191–7, and Nagel, “The Afterlife”. 26 Baronius, The Life, sig. a2r–v. See also Houliston, “St Thomas Becket”. 27 London, British Museum, no. M.6791. 28 Stapleton, Tres Thomae, translated as Stapleton, The Life. See Sheils, “Polemic as Piety”. 29 Gibbons, “Saints in Exile”. 30 Martin, Roma Sancta, 41. 31 Robinson, The Anatomie, 11. 32 Corens, “Saints beyond Borders”. 33 Brown, The Cult, 89. 34 For a list of relics in the possession of Anne Vaux and her sister, see Kew, The National Archives, State Papers Domestic 14/19/72; Gerard, The Autobiography, 50. 35 See also Myers, “Father John Gerard’s”, 221. 36 For examples, see British Museum, no. 1848,0911.368 [Marten Baes,“B.M. Thomas Cantipratanus”, c. 1619]; no. 1848,0911.367 [Gregoire Hurét, “S. Thomas of Canterburie his life”, France, c. 1621–70]; no. 1856,0607.15 [Wenceslaus Hollar, “Vera Effigies Sta. Thomæ Archi-Episcopi Cantuariensis et Martyris”, 1647]. 37 Verstegan, Theatrum; Cavalleriis, Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ. See Dillon, The Construction, chaps. 4–5, 170–242, 243–76. 38 Southwell, An Epistle of Comfort, sig. Aa7r. 39 See Walsham, “Miracles”. 40 Allen, A Briefe Historie, f. cvii v. 41 See, for example, the slip of paper with the signature of the Oxford martyr George Napper: Stratton-on-the-Fosse, Downside Abbey, Bede Camm Papers on the English Martyrs (“Queen Elizabeth – Napier”). 42 See Walsham, “‘Domme Preachers’?”. 43 See Redworth, The She-Apostle, 209–13. 44 Camm, Forgotten Shrines, 357–61. 45 See, for example, the various accounts of Thomas Maxfield: Allison and Rogers, The Contemporary, 313–20. 46 See Kelly, “Creating”. 47 Malo, “Intimate Devotion”. 48 Brown, “Robert Southwell”, 274. 49 Raguin and Kline, “Relics”, 72–3, 78. 50 See Evangelisti, “Material Culture”, and Corry, Howard, and Laven, Madonnas and Miracles. 51 Southwell, A Short Rule, 129. See also McClain, “Without Church”, 384–5. 52 Acts of the Parliament of England, 35 Eliz. c. 2. 53 Dupront, “Pèlerinages”, 190. 54 See Rudy, Virtual Pilgrimages. 55 On which see Geary’s, Furta Sacra. 56 On priest holes, see Hodgetts, “Loca Secretiora”. 57 Kelly, “Creating”, x. And for this tendency more generally, see Hills, “Nuns and Relics”, 33–4. 58 Weston, The Autobiography, 167, 176. 59 “The Life and Martyrdome”, 40. 60 Allen, A Briefe Historie, sig. cvii.v. 61 The Troubles, 395–6. 62 Owen, The Running Register, 54; Robinson, The Anatomie, 12. 63 See The Life and Death, 41–2. See also Birch, The Court and Times, 121; Calendar of State Papers, 516. 64 After Catholic emancipation in 1829, it became a site of more overt remembrance, and a Benedictine convent was established nearby in 1901. See Tyburn Convent.

Mobile martyrs and forgotten shrines

197

65 McCoog, “Arrowsmith”. 66 For a list of these, see Gillow, A Literary, 62–3. Substantial extracts from several of these texts are printed in Foley, Records, 24–74. 67 See Challoner, Memoirs, 362–73, and Foley, Records, 53–5. 68 Camm, Forgotten Shrines, 188–9, 183–201, passim. For miracles relating to the hand, see Foley, Records, 61–74. 69 Murphy, A True, v–xii. This reputedly reprints a text first published in 1630, which appears not to be extant. 70 Foley, Records, 61–9. 71 For hostile Protestant accounts of the cult of “the dead man’s hand”, see Roby, Traditions, 300–18, and Thiselton-Dyer, Strange, 154–61. See also Harland and Wilkinson, Lancashire Folk-lore, 158–63. 72 See Foley, Records, 69. 73 Harland and Wilkinson, Lancashire Folk-lore, 158–9. 74 For the chest, see Whitehead, Held in Trust, 70–1. For varying accounts of its provenance, see Hogan, Edmund Arrowsmith, 73, and Atherton and Peyton, “Faith and Martyrdom”, 7. I am grateful to Jan Graffius of Stonyhurst College for clarifying the status of these objects. 75 Camm, Forgotten Shrines, 190. 76 Ibid., 188. See also Smith, “The Catholic Registers”, 357. 77 Camm, Forgotten Shrines, 188–201, and Harland and Wilkinson, Lancashire Folk-lore, 134–5. See also Blundell, Old Catholic Lancashire, 134–9. 78 Camm, Forgotten Shrines, 187, 194. For Camm and oral tradition, see Shell, Oral Culture, 143. See also Bellenger, “Dom Bede Camm”. 79 See Goldie, The Blessed Edmund; Ripley, The Holy Hand; Atherton and Peyton, “Faith and Martyrdom”, and Hogan, Edmund Arrowsmith. 80 Dolan, “Gender”, 664. 81 See Smith, “Portable Christianity”. 82 See Ditchfield, “Translating Christianity”.

Sources and bibliography Acts of the Parliament of England, 35 Eliz. c. 2. Allen, W. A Briefe Historie of the Glorious Martyrdom of XII. Reverend Priests. Rheims: [Jean de Foigny], 1582. Allison, A.F., and D.M. Rogers. The Contemporary Printed Literature of the English Counter-Reformation between 1558 and 1640: An Annotated Catalogue. Vol 1: Works in Languages Other Than English. Aldershot: Scolar Press, 1989. Atherton, D.W., and M.P. Peyton. “Faith and Martyrdom: The Holy Hand of Saint Edmund Arrowsmith”. Saints and Relics. Accessed 23 May 2017. saintsandrelics. co.uk/onewebmedia/St%20Edmund%20Arrowsmith.pdf. Aubrey, J. The Natural History of Wiltshire, edited by J. Britton. London: The Wiltshire Topographical Society, 1847. Baciocchi, S., and C. Duhamelle, dirs. Reliques romaines: invention et circulation des corps saints des catacombes à l’époque moderne. Roma: École Française de Rome, 2016. Baronius, C. The Life or the Ecclesiasticall Historie of S. Thomas Archbishope of Canterbury. Cologne, 1639. Bellenger, A.“Dom Bede Camm (1864–1942), Monastic Martyrologist”. In Martyrs and Martyrologies, edited by D. Wood, 371–81. Studies in Church History 30. Oxford: Published for the Ecclesiastical History Society by Blackwell Publishers, 1993.

198 Alexandra Walsham Birch, T., ed. The Court and Times of Charles the First. Vol. 1. London: Henry Colburn, 1848. Blundell, F.O. Old Catholic Lancashire. Vol. 1. London: Burns, Oates & Washbourne, 1925. Brown, N.P. “Robert Southwell: The Mission of the Written Word”. In The Reckoned Expense: Edmund Campion and the Early English Jesuits, edited by T.M. McCoog, 251–75. Rome: Institutum Historicum Societatis Iesu, 2007. Brown, P. The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1981. Burke, P. “How to Become a Counter-Reformation Saint”. In Religion and Society in Early Modern Europe, 1500–1800, edited by K. von Greyerz, 45–55. London: German Historical Institute, Allen & Unwin, 1984. Butler, J. The Quest for Becket’s Bones: The Mystery of the Relics of St Thomas Becket of Canterbury. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995. Calendar of State Papers and Manuscripts, Relating to English Affairs, Existing in the Archives and Collections of Venice, and in Other Libraries of Northern Italy, edited by A.B. Hinds. Vol. 19: 1625–1626. London: His Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1913. Camm, B. Forgotten Shrines: An Account of Some Old Catholic Halls and Families in England and of Relics and Memorials of the English Martyrs. London: MacDonald & Evans, 1910. The Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, translated by H.J. Schroeder. Rockford: Tan Books and Publishers, 1978. Cavalleriis, I.B. de. Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Trophæa. Rome: Ex Officina Bartholomæi Grassi, 1584. Challoner, R. Memoirs of Missionary Priests, edited by J.H. Pollen. London: Burns, Oates & Washbourne, 1924. Corens, L. “Saints beyond Borders: Relics and the Expatriate English Catholic Community”. In Exile and Religious Identity, 1500–1800, edited by J. Spohnholz, and G.K. Waite, 25–38. Religious Cultures in the Early Modern World 18. London: Pickering & Chatto, 2014. Corry, M., D. Howard, and M. Laven, eds. Madonnas and Miracles: The Holy Home in Renaissance Italy. Cambridge: The Fitzwilliam Museum, 2017. Dauncey, J. The History of the Thrice Illustrious Princess Henrietta Maria de Bourbon, Queen of England. London: E.C. for Philip Chetwind, 1660. Davis, J.F. “Lollards, Reformers and St Thomas of Canterbury”. University of Birmingham Historical Journal 9, no. 1 (1963): 1–15. Dillon, A. The Construction of Martyrdom in the English Catholic Community, 1535–1603. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2002. Ditchfield, S. “Martyrs on the Move: Relics as Vindicators of Local Diversity in the Tridentine Church”. In Martyrs and Martyrologies, edited by D. Wood, 283–94. Studies in Church History 30. Oxford: Published for the Ecclesiastical History Society by Blackwell Publishers, 1993. Ditchfield, S. “Thinking with Saints: Sanctity and Society in the Early Modern World”. Critical Inquiry 35, no. 3 (2009): 552–84. Ditchfield, S. “Translating Christianity in an Age of Reformations”. In Translating Christianity, edited by S. Ditchfield, C. Methuen, and A. Spicer, 164–95. Studies in Church History 53. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017. Ditchfield, S. “Tridentine Worship and the Cult of Saints”. In Reform and Expansion 1500–1660, edited by R. Po-chia Hsia, 201–24. The Cambridge History of Christianity 6. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007.

Mobile martyrs and forgotten shrines

199

Dodsworth, R., and G. Dugdale. Monasticon Anglicanum. London: Typis Richardi Hodgkinsonne, 1655. Dolan, F.E. “Gender and the ‘Lost’ Spaces of Catholicism”. Journal of Interdisciplinary History 32, no. 4 (2002): 641–65. Duffy, E. Marking the Hours: English People and Their Prayers 1240–1570. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006. Duffy, E. The Stripping of the Altars: Traditional Religion in England c.1400-c.1580. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005. Duggan, A.J. Thomas Becket. London: Hodder Education, 2004. Duggan, A.J. Thomas Becket: Friends, Networks, Texts and Cult. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007. Dupront, A. “Pèlerinages et lieux sacrés”. In Méthodologie de l’Histoire et des sciences humaines, 189–206. Mélanges en l’honneur de Fernand Braudel 2. Toulouse: Privat, 1973. Duteil, J.-P. “Reliques et objets pieux dans les communautés chrétiennes de Chine et du Vietnam aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles”. In Les reliques: objets, cultes, symboles, edited by E. Bozoky, and A.-M. Helvétius, 65–77. Hagiologia 1. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1999. Evangelisti, S. “Material Culture”. In The Ashgate Research Companion to the Counter-Reformation, edited by A. Bamji, G.H. Janssen, and M. Laven, 395–416. Farnham: Ashgate Publishing, 2013. Finucane, R.C. Miracles and Pilgrims: Popular Beliefs in Medieval England. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 1995. Foley, H. Records of the English Province of the Society of Jesus. Vol. 2: Second, Third, and Fourth Series. Roehampton: The Manresa Press, 1875. Frijhoff, W. Embodied Belief: Ten Essays on Religious Culture in Dutch History. Hilversum: Uitgeverij Verloren, 2002. Geary, P.J. Furta Sacra: Thefts of Relics in the Central Middle Ages. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978. Gerard, J. The Autobiography of an Elizabethan, translated by P. Caraman. London: Longmans, Green and Co., 1951. Gibbons, K. “Saints in Exile: The Cult of Saint Thomas of Canterbury and Elizabethan Catholics in France”. Recusant History 29, no. 3 (2009): 315–40. Gillow, J. A Literary and Biographical History, Or Bibliographical Dictionary of the English Catholics, from the Breach with Rome, in 1534, to the Present Time. Vol. 1. Bristol: Thoemmes Press, 1999. Goldie, F. The Blessed Edmund Arrowsmith, S.J. (1585–1628). London: Catholic Truth Society, 1936. Habington, T. A Survey of Worcestershire, edited by J. Amphlett. Vol. 1. Oxford: Printed for the Worcestershire Historical Society by James Parker and Co., 1895. Harland, J., and T.T. Wilkinson, eds. Lancashire Folk-lore: Illustrative of the Superstitious Beliefs and Practices, Local Customs and Usages of the People of the County Palatine. London: John Heywood, 1882. Hillman, J. “St Pientia and the Château de la Roche-Guyon: Relic Translations and Sacred History in Seventeenth-Century France”. In Translating Christianity, edited by S. Ditchfield, C. Methuen, and A. Spicer, 257–71. Studies in Church History 53. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017. Hills, H. “Nuns and Relics: Spiritual Authority in Post-Tridentine Naples”. In Female Monasticism in Early Modern Europe: An Interdisciplinary View, edited by C. van Wyhe, 11–38. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008.

200 Alexandra Walsham Historical Manuscripts Commission. Twelfth Report, Appendix, Part IV: The Manuscripts of His Grace the Duke of Rutland, G.C.B., Preserved at Belvoir Castle. Vol. 1. London: Printed for Her Majesty’s Stationery Office by Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1888. Hodgetts, M. “Loca Secretiora in 1581”. Recusant History 19, no. 4 (1989): 386–95. Hogan, J. Edmund Arrowsmith. London: Catholic Truth Society, 2017. Houliston, V. “St Thomas Becket in the Propaganda of the English CounterReformation”. Renaissance Studies 7, no. 1 (1993): 43–70. Hughes, P.L., and J.F. Larkin, eds. Tudor Royal Proclamations. Vol. 1: The Early Tudors (1485–1553). New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964. Johnson, T. “Holy Fabrications: The Catacomb Saints and the Counter-Reformation in Bavaria”. The Journal of Ecclesiastical History 47, no. 2 (1996): 274–97. Johnson, T. Magistrates, Madonnas and Miracles: The Counter Reformation in the Upper Palatinate. Farnham: Ashgate Publishing, 2009. Kelly, J.E. “Creating an English Catholic Identity: Relics, Martyrs and English Women Religious in Counter-Reformation Europe”. In Early Modern English Catholicism: Identity, Memory and Counter-Reformation, edited by J.E. Kelly, and S. Royal, 41–59. Leiden: Koninklijke Brill, 2017. Kew, The National Archives, State Papers Domestic 14/19/72. Lambarde, W. A Perambulation of Kent, Conteining the Description, Hystorie, and Customes of That Shire. London: Baldwin, Cradock and Joy, 1826. Lazure, G. “Possessing the Sacred: Monarchy and Identity in Philip II’s Relic Collection at the Escorial”. Renaissance Quarterly 60, no. 1 (2007): 58–93. The Life and Death of that Matchless Mirrour of Magnanimity, and Heroick Vertues Henrietta Maria de Bourbon Queen . . . London: Printed for Sam. Speed, 1669. “The Life and Martyrdome of Mr. Maxfield, Priest, 1616”, edited by J.H. Pollen. In Miscellanea III, 30–58. Publications of the Catholic Record Society 3. London: Catholic Record Society, 1906. London, British Library, Cotton MS Tiberius E. VIII, f. 278v. Louthan, H. Converting Bohemia: Force and Persuasion in the Catholic Reformation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Malo, R. “Intimate Devotion: Recusant Martyrs and the Making of Relics in PostReformation England”. The Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 44, no. 3 (2014): 531–48. Martin, G. Roma Sancta (1581), edited by G.B. Parks. Roma: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1969. Mayer, T. “Becket’s Bones Burnt! Cardinal Pole and the Invention and Dissemination of an Atrocity”. In Martyrs and Martyrdom in England, c. 1400–1700, edited by T.S. Freeman, and T.F. Mayer, 126–43. Studies in Modern British Religious History 15. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2007. McClain, L. “Without Church, Cathedral, or Shrine: The Search for Religious Space among Catholics in England, 1559–1625”. The Sixteenth Century Journal 33, no. 2 (2002): 381–99. McCoog, T.M. “Arrowsmith [alias Bradshaw, Rigby], Edmund [formerly Bryan] (1585–1628)”. Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009. www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/699. Mézerac-Zanetti, A. de. “Liturgical Changes to the Cult of Saints under Henry VIII”. In Saints and Sanctity, edited by P. Clarke, and T. Claydon, 181–92. Studies in Church History 47. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2011.

Mobile martyrs and forgotten shrines

201

Murphy, C. A True and Exact Relation of the Death of Two Catholicks, Who Suffered for Their Religion at the Summer Assizes, Held at Lancaster in the Year 1628 . . . London, 1737. Myers, A.M. “Father John Gerard’s Object Lessons: Relics and Devotional Objects in Autobiography of a Hunted Priest”. In Catholic Culture in Early Modern England, edited by R. Corthell, F.E. Dolan, C. Highley, and A.F. Marotti, 216–35. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007. Nagel, A. “The Afterlife of the Reliquary”. In Treasures of Heaven: Saints, Relics, and Devotion in Medieval Europe, edited by M. Bagnoli, H.A. Klein, C.G. Mann, and J. Robinson, 211–22. Baltimore: The Walters Art Museum, 2010. Olds, K. “The Ambiguities of the Holy: Authenticating Relics in Seventeenth-Century Spain”. Renaissance Quarterly 65, no. 1 (2012): 135–84. Owen, L. The Running Register: Recording a True Relation of the State of the English Colledges, Seminaries and Cloysters in all Forraine Parts. London: Printed for Robert Milbourne, 1626. Parish, H.L. Monks, Miracles and Magic: Reformation Representations of the Medieval Church. London: Routledge, 2005. Pollen, J.H. “Henry VIII and St Thomas Becket, Part I”. The Month 137 (1921): 119–28. Raguin, V.C., and N.R. Kline, “Relics and the Two Thomases: Thomas of Canterbury and Thomas of Hereford as Bishop Martyr and Bishop Confessor”. In Catholic Collecting, Catholic Reflection 1538–1850: Objects as a Measure of Reflection on a Catholic Past and the Construction of Recusant Identity in England and America, edited by V.C. Raguin, 69–78. Worcester: College of the Holy Cross, 2006. Redworth, G. The She-Apostle: The Extraordinary Life and Death of Luisa de Carvajal. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Ripley, F.J. The Holy Hand. Northampton: St Oswald’s Ashton-in-Makerfield, 1970. Roberts, P.B. “Politics, Drama and the Cult of Thomas Becket in the Sixteenth Century”. In Pilgrimage: The English Experience from Becket to Bunyan, edited by C. Morris, and P. Roberts, 199–237. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Roberts, P.B. “Thomas Becket: The Construction and Deconstruction of a Saint from the Middle Ages to the Reformation”. In Models of Holiness in Medieval Sermons, edited by B.M. Kienzle, E.W. Dolnikowski, R.D. Hale, D.N. Pryds, and A.T. Thayer, 1–22. Textes et Études du Moyen Âge 5. Louvain-la-Neuve: Fédération Internationale des Instituts d’Études Médiévales, 1996. Robinson, T. The Anatomie of the English Nunnery at Lisbon in Portugall. London: Printed by George Purslowe for Robert Mylbourne and Philemon Stephens, 1622. Roby, J. Traditions of Lancashire. Vol. 2. London: Frederick Warne & Co., 1930. Rudy, K.M. Virtual Pilgrimages in the Convent: Imagining Jerusalem in the Late Middle Ages. Disciplina Monastica 8. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2011. Scully, R.E. “The Unmaking of a Saint: Thomas Becket and the English Reformation”. The Catholic Historical Review 86, no. 4 (2000): 579–602. Sheils, W. “Polemic as Piety: Thomas Stapleton’s Tres Thomae and Catholic Controversy in the 1580s”. The Journal of Ecclesiastical History 60, no. 1 (2009): 74–94. Shell, A. Oral Culture and Catholicism in Early Modern England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007. Smith, J.E. “The Catholic Registers of St. Mary’s, Samlesbury, Lancashire, 1753– 1837”. In Lancashire Registers IV: Brindle and Samlesbury, edited by R. TrappesLomax, 315–79. Publications of the Catholic Record Society 23. London: Catholic Record Society, 1922.

202 Alexandra Walsham Smith, J.M.H. “Portable Christianity: Relics in the Medieval West (c.700–1200)”. Proceedings of the British Academy 181 (2012): 143–67. Soergel, P.M. Wondrous in His Saints: Counter-Reformation Propaganda in Bavaria. Studies on the History of Society and Culture 17. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993. Southwell, R. An Epistle of Comfort . . . London: John Charlewood, 1587. Southwell, R. A Short Rule of Good Life . . . [Douai], 1595. Stapleton, T. The Life and Illustrious Martyrdom of Sir Thomas More . . ., translated by P.E. Hallett. London: Burns, Oates & Washbourne, 1928. Stapleton, T. Tres Thomae . . . Douai: Ex Officina Ioannis Bogardi, 1588. Stratton-on-the-Fosse, Downside Abbey, Bede Camm Papers on the English Martyrs. Thiselton-Dyer, T.F. Strange Pages from Family Papers. London: Sampson Low, Marston & Company, 1895. Three Chapters of Letters Relating to the Suppression of Monasteries, edited by T. Wright. London: The Camden Society, 1843. The Troubles of Our Catholic Forefathers Related by Themselves, edited by J. Morris. Vol. 3. London: Burns and Oates, 1877. Tyburn Convent. Accessed 21 April 2017. www.tyburnconvent.org.uk/. Verstegan, R. Theatrum Crudelitatum Hæreticorum Nostri Temporis. Antwerp: Adrianum Huberti, 1587. Walsham, A. “‘Domme Preachers’? Post-Reformation English Catholicism and the Culture of Print”. Past & Present 168, no. 1 (2000): 72–123. Walsham, A. “Miracles and the Counter-Reformation Mission to England”. The Historical Journal 46, no. 4 (2003): 779–815. Walsham, A. “The Pope’s Merchandise and the Jesuits’ Trumpery: Catholic Relics and Protestant Polemic in Post-Reformation England”. In Religion, the Supernatural and Visual Culture in Early Modern Europe: An Album Amicorum for Charles Zika, edited by J. Spinks, and D. Eichberger, 370–409. Leiden: Koninklijke Brill, 2015. Walsham, A. “Skeletons in the Cupboard: Relics after the English Reformation”. In Relics and Remains, edited by A. Walsham, 121–43. Past & Present Supplement 5. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. Weston, W. The Autobiography of an Elizabethan, translated by P. Caraman. London: Longmans, Green and Co., 1955. Whitehead, M., ed. Held in Trust: 2008 Years of Sacred Culture . . . Stonyhurst: St. Omers Press, 2008. Woolf, D. The Social Circulation of the Past: English Historical Culture 1500–1730. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003.

11 The life of dry bones Pilgrimage to relic shrines in Soviet Russia Stella Rock

Pilgrimage to relic shrines in Soviet Russia in many ways reflects the broader trajectory of Soviet antireligious policy. When public mockery and scientific explanations failed to stop the veneration of relics, reliquaries were sealed up or their contents removed to museum storage. Like the closure of monasteries, these attempts to block the channels of the holy substantially reduced pilgrimage in the 1930s. The post-war period saw a limited return of relics and a rise in pilgrimage, however, and the last crusade against such “religious survivals” under Khrushchev did not eradicate the desire of believers to gain tactile access to their saints: the process of returning relics recommenced with preparations for the 1988 millennium celebrations of the Christianization of Rus’. This chapter tells the story through the lens of one shrine, that of St Simeon of Verkhoturye.1 The Soviet “campaign against the relics” (1918–1930) has been well researched. In sum, it consisted of the public exhumation of venerated saints, a self-consciously scientific examination of their condition published in the new Soviet media, and – theoretically – their withdrawal from public veneration. Like other Soviet antireligious campaigns, it was motivated by central priorities but shaped by local circumstance, varying geographically and chronologically. Research has highlighted the campaign’s internal controversies and (mis)understandings of Orthodox attitudes to posthumous preservation: despite the crude association between incorruptibility and sanctity assumed by the Bolsheviks, a saint did not need to be incorrupt to be a saint, and relics did not have to be whole or undecayed to work miracles.2 Moreover, public exposures were subverted in multiple ways and had the potential to backfire – as in the case of St Joasaph of Belgorod, for example, who was discovered in an astonishing state of preservation despite the church never having claimed him as incorrupt.3 If we now have a detailed picture of this early campaign, we have a sketchier understanding of the piecemeal, post-war return of relics and the wave of returns in the 1980s.4 The corresponding dynamics of pilgrimage have attracted still less attention. Our case study is a lay saint who was – and is – presented as a protector of the Urals region and western Siberia in particular, but whose reputation as a wonderworker had reached the imperial capital of Petersburg. As

204

Stella Rock

revolution swept across Russia, St Simeon’s relics lay in Verkhoturye’s St Nicholas monastery beneath a grandiose canopy donated by the royal family, in a catholicon built to house up to 8,000 pilgrims. This church, begun in 1905, was still being decorated in 1917.5 As a saint whose incorruptibility was integral to his canonization, St Simeon is an interesting case by which to explore the impact of anti-relic activism on pilgrimage. Simeon’s Life records that his relics spontaneously rose out of the earth in 1692, 50 years after his death, when he was all but forgotten by the peasants amongst whom he had lived. St Simeon follows a pattern visible in other, early modern “unidentified corpse” cults: dreams reveal the identity of the saint, and an initially sceptical local hierarch – convinced by the relics and miracles – authorizes veneration. The detailed Life, prepared in the mid-19th century, records that Simeon’s body was found to be “completely whole, and the bones covered with flesh”; only the fingers had been subject to decay.6 The careful examination of Simeon’s body reflects procedures instituted by the 1667 council for dealing with such corpses, which might be “whole and unputrefied” for unholy reasons – excommunication, or some grave sin.7

Early crusading against the saints Academic research identifies the ad hoc October 1918 exposure of St Alexander of Svir by pillaging Red Army soldiers as initiating the Soviet campaign against the relics, as the propaganda potential of this event became clear. St Simeon’s shrine was subject to similar disturbance in August 1918, when a Chekist demanded that his reliquary be opened, but the cursory examination was apparently recorded only by the archimandrite of Verkhoturye monastery.8 Two years later, however, St Simeon was subjected to a formal, planned, and recorded public exposure, which followed an already established model. Preparations for the exposure offer a glimpse of pilgrimage after several years of revolutionary ferment and brutal civil war. On a Saturday evening in September 1920, there were around 60 visitors to the church in which St Simeon lay, a third of whom were Red Army soldiers, while around 200 attended a moleben after the liturgy on Sunday, when the reliquary was open for veneration. One woman with a sick daughter was given cotton wool dipped in the lamp oil burning before St Simeon’s shrine,9 perhaps wadding kept within the reliquary: the bishop of Novgorod, accused of removing incriminating evidence from cathedral shrines, testified that this material was commonly given to pilgrims to take home.10 Pilgrims venerated the relics “just as they did earlier”; although the majority were women, children were also being “led astray”, and – the agent reports with feeling – it was shameful to see even soldiers requesting prayers and venerating the relics.11 The public exhumation was scheduled for maximum impact, on “St Simeon’s day”, 12/25 September, when the church celebrates the translation of

The life of dry bones

205

St Simeon’s relics from the Siberian village of Merkushino to Verkhoturye in 1704. St Simeon’s cult grew significantly in the 19th century, and in the early 20th century, the shrine was patronized by Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna in person and by Tsar Nicholas and Alexandra at a distance. By 1909, when an annual procession with the relics was instituted to strengthen faith in turbulent times, pilgrims flocked to St Simeon’s feast in thousands.12 A detailed narrative of the 1920 exhumation in the local newspaper Urals Worker stressed that on this feast day, pilgrims came “from every quarter [. . .] by train and by foot” to venerate “the most popular saint in the Urals”, carrying their hard-earned pennies to hand over to fraudulent “magician-monks”.13 As this focus on economic exploitation suggests, fraud was a central leitmotif in early exposure narratives: dry bones were presented as whole and miraculously incorrupt bodies to extract the “last farthings” (poslednie groshi) from befuddled peasants.14 The fraud lay primarily in the way the saint’s relics were arranged; while some relics were “under a bushel” (pod spudom), underground, or otherwise inaccessible to pilgrims, many were presented like St Simeon, in ornate reliquaries, with fragmented or partial skeletons padded out and swathed in silks in the shape of a body. While St Alexander of Svir’s relics were not the wax dummy falsely (and mistakenly) reported in newspapers, the discovery of his cotton-stuffed shoes apparently perturbed even the monks.15 As with other exposures, the contents of St Simeon’s sarcophagus were carefully removed and listed – each layer of material, each bone, traces of muscle tissue, the presence of cotton wadding – in a published record of proceedings. Those present at the examination were also listed. A detailed description of the remains by Dr Smirnov (representing the regional public health service) was appended to it.16 St Simeon’s shrine contained none of the sensational content or strange rubbish trumpeted as found inside the shrines of other saints,17 but his body had clearly been subject to corruption. It is difficult to gauge the impact of this event on the 10,000 pilgrims reported as present. The local paper, which dedicated a full-page spread to events, claimed that when the contents of the reliquary were revealed, the crowd, “earlier hostile toward the ‘godless Bolsheviks’, burst into loud applause and shouts of ‘down with priests!’ ‘Down with the bloodsucking fraudsters!’”18 Archimandrite Ksenofont testified that he had to calm the crowd by explaining that they could not oppose the authorities, and that pilgrims should not be disturbed to see “only incorrupt remains [netlennye ostanki], that is bones”, rather than the whole, incorrupt body (tsel’noe netlennoe telo) he himself had expected to see when the relics were opened in 1918. Those who believed would not, he suggested, be disturbed by this discovery, and would continue to believe.19 Subsequent events reveal – as with other exposures – that many did continue to venerate the saint. Once exposed as fraudulent, the relics were left in ecclesiastical space rather than moved to a museum as central authorities intended. In February

206

Stella Rock

1921, Verkhoturye executive committee reported that the relics had been exposed, as per the orders they had received from regional authorities in Ekaterinburg. “As regards the liquidation of the relics and their placing in a museum, on the basis of the 25 August 1920 circular from the People’s Commissariat of Justice”, the Verkhoturye official continued, “the district executive committee had not received [a copy of] the latter”.20 It seems St Simeon’s relics were left where they were until his silver sarcophagus – with the saint depicted in relief, with painted face and hands, full length on top of the openable lid (see Figure 11.1) – was requisitioned during the mass seizure of church valuables in 1922.21 If the 1920 commission did seal the reliquary shut, as might be expected from other exposures, this seizure may have been the point at which the relics were once again opened for veneration. Either way, the issue of their openness to pilgrims seems to have prompted the next exposure.

Figure 11.1 St Simeon of Verkhoturye’s sarcophagus, 1910 Source: Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, Prokudin-Gorskii Collection, LC-DIG-prok-02104

The life of dry bones

207

Pilgrimage to (un)sealed relics As Greene demonstrates, the real points of conflict arose where physical access to the bodies of saints was prevented – when the authorities sought to remove relics from local communities. His research highlights the importance of locality: local communities wanted their wonderworkers to be nearby, maintaining their relationship in situ. Nationally and regionally significant saints, however, had relationships that transcended local boundaries  – something that might endanger or protect them, depending on local circumstances and national policies. There are also different degrees of access. Pilgrims travelled to shrines to be closer to, in the presence of, the saint, and spiritual communion was facilitated by visual and tactile engagement. Direct, intimate access to relics – kissing them, laying objects upon the shrine, even wearing the saints’ clothing – was regulated and facilitated by shrine guardians.22 In late imperial Russia, saints’ bodies (as opposed to fragments or contact relics) were often kept above ground in full-length, sarcophagi-shrines with hinged lids that opened fully or partially to facilitate contact with the materiality of the saints.23 Within these ornate reliquaries, the relics were swathed in fabric and/or clothed, but the hands and/or part of the forehead were sometimes exposed so that pilgrims might kiss the actual body of the saint.24 A churchinstigated examination of St John of Tobolsk’s relics, as they were returned from hiding during civil war turmoil, clarifies how this particular saint was prepared for pilgrims: [T]he individual remains of the saint were covered with a cowl, a white baptismal cap and mitre were placed on the skull [.  .  .], on the front of the mitre an incision was made in order to open it for veneration [prikladivaniia], the mitre and face covered by an aer [vozdukh, a cloth used to cover the chalice and diskos] with a round hole in the middle for kissing the open frontal part of the saint’s relics.25 It seems that such sarcophagus-shaped reliquaries did not routinely incorporate glass, although fragments might be kept in glazed cases.26 To view a saint, the reliquary lid had to be opened. St Simeon’s reliquary lid incorporated a smaller door which opened to the saint’s waist, and beneath this aperture St Simeon was covered with four cloths described as aers in a published report of the 1920 exposure.27 Although – as a layman – St Simeon’s face would not have been covered with a liturgical “vozdukh”, this description suggests how the complex presentation might visually evoke the cloths, curtains, and doors of the Orthodox liturgy. Enveloping the relics in rich layers – combined with brief moments of visual and tactile access – emphasized their healing power.28 Such direct, tactile access to dead bodies was viewed by the Soviet authorities as particularly pernicious, and in a characteristic inversion of values, relic

208

Stella Rock

veneration became a source of disease rather than healing. The “sanitaryhygiene inspection” carried out on St Simeon’s relics on 30 May 1924 noted that the lid of his sarcophagus opened by a third, and that pilgrims were permitted to kiss a small section of St Simeon’s skull through a special hole in the velvet veiling the relics.29 Reporting the inspection, the Urals’ Worker declared: The devotees of “incorrupt relics” have not yet died out completely. They come to Verkhoturye monastery to venerate [prikladovat’] the relics of Simeon, in the hope of healing and other benefits. But they don’t know that relics are a hotbed of infection, that instead of healing they risk catching all sorts of diseases – up to and including syphilis.30 Medical personnel were routinely involved in organized exposures, but they generally identifed the bones and described their condition, lending an air of scientifc credibility to procedures. Moscow doctors recruited to explain the “mummies” in Vladimir’s Dormition Cathedral were asked whether the veneration of skeletons constituted a sanitary danger; they concluded that “kissing [the relics] is dangerous, as is kissing any object”.31 The two doctors at St Simeon’s unusual inspection went further, publishing declarations that “the ritual of kissing (venerating) relics is extremely unhygienic” and “in [their] current condition the remains of the relics are in the decomposition stage and must contain a signifcant quantity of pathogenic microorganisms”.32 In this, they refected antireligious propaganda that increasingly harnessed the language of science, and contrasted “superstition” with the clean, rational technologies of Soviet medicine.33 However, the unusually explicit focus on public health that accompanied the 1924 examination of St Simeon refects more than just a crude propaganda trope in which religion is associated with the viral flth and ignorance of the old regime (see Figure 11.2). The young Soviet government was particularly focused on combatting the epidemics that swept the country periodically with devastating effects, and endemic, so-called social diseases such as tuberculosis and syphilis.34 Less than a fortnight before St Simeon’s examination, the head of the health ministry had drawn an explicit connection between the Orthodox practice of prikladyvanie – laying one’s lips to a holy object – and syphilis.35 Religion was more than a metaphorical source of dirt and infection – it had become a literal transmitter of disease, from the dusty icon corner that harboured tuberculosis to the communion cup that transmitted scarlet fever.36 Relics were one more ecclesiastical object that could spread germs, and their decayed nature made them particularly dangerous. The solution to this was straightforward, according to the commission: St Simeon’s relics should be confscated and buried, but until then they should be sealed off from the public by soldering the lid of his casket shut, “thereby stopping the practice of prikladyvaniia”.37

The life of dry bones

209

Figure 11.2 “Bless you!” Source: [lit. “Be healthy!”] back cover of Bezbozhnik u stanka 7 (1923). With thanks to the Rubenstein Library, Duke University

As elsewhere, local believers resisted, citing the “many hundreds of pilgrims” who had visited the monastery daily for centuries. The parish council first approached the local authorities with a compromise position: since the removal of the relics would “deprive Christians, not only of Siberia, but also of European Russia, of the possibility of manifesting their religious feelings” by venerating the saint, the relics should be left in place but, “following the

210

Stella Rock

example of other Christian communities in the Republic, hermetically sealed under glass”. In that way, they might “satisfy, at least in part, their religious feelings by contemplation of the holy saint’s remains”.38 If tactile access was to be prevented, then at least they should be allowed to look upon their saint. Much of the evidence we have for how ordinary people felt about the way access to the divine changed in this period is mediated through the pens of Soviet officials and journalists. Other sources, such as this petition, are expressed in language calculated to win concessions from Soviet officialdom.39 The suggestion that permitting visual access to the saint’s remains through glass was a compromise for which there was a precedent probably refers to the high-profile exposure of St Sergius of Radonezh, who was displayed post-exposure under a specially fashioned, plate-glass lid sealed to the reliquary.40 It was not necessarily a palatable compromise: we know from reminiscences that some pilgrims shut their eyes as they venerated St Sergius or placed flowers strategically on the glass to obscure his naked bones.41 This suggests that, for some, seeing the saints unveiled – stripped of the fabrics and clothing they had previously been displayed in – was distressing. It did not deter pilgrims, however: according to Patriarch Tikhon, pilgrimage to the exhumed relics actually increased – an assessment shared by local church communities and some Soviet officials.42 St Simeon, like most of Russia’s saints, remained in situ on the territory of the former Verkhoturye monastery throughout the 1920s. Despite the protestations of the parish committee, his reliquary was sealed shut on 4 July 1924, a month or so after this second formal exposure. This action was recorded by the parish council, who – in the absence of a formal record of proceedings – drew up their own, listing those present, the time it took place (11:00 p.m.), and the number and type of seals used (two, wax).43 The degree to which the sealing up of reliquaries impeded veneration is not clear. Some believers simply broke the seal when they wished to interact with their saint, as Vologda Christians did when they took their relics on procession in 1919.44 Those who managed veneration of St Simeon’s relics were more law abiding: when the relics were sealed and threatened with removal, the parish council then lobbied the powerful chair of the AllRussian Central Executive Committee, Kalinin. Their petition – like many others – cites Soviet legislation and highlights the priorities of the centre (smychka s krest’ianstvom, alliance with the peasantry): the sealing and threatened removal were presented as an effort to impede access to the relics particularly by peasants.45 Archimandrite Ksenofont later recalled that the letter was hand-delivered to Moscow, and they were granted permission to keep the relics so long as they were sealed with glass “to avoid infection”.46 Although the local authorities were advised by the centre not to obstruct veneration, owing to the “mood and ignorance” of believers, but to permit access to the relics in a “glass coffin in their natural [i.e. undressed] state”,47 later correspondence suggests that pilgrims remained unable to kiss or to gaze upon their wonderworker. A local official who – five years later – reviewed

The life of dry bones

211

the documents available to him, found “no trace” of a reason for why the proposed confiscation hadn’t taken place but noted that “the tomb, sealed by the Verkhoturye district executive committee back in 1924, continues to attract a multitude of pilgrims”.48

Pilgrimage to the museum If the petition was successful in preventing St Simeon’s removal, his casket remained sealed. The parish council appealed for free access to their wonderworker again in September 1928,49 but on this occasion, their petitioning had the contrary effect. Instead of opening the casket, the local authorities set about liquidating the relics. This reflects a general hardening – by 1930, there was not a single active monastic institution on the territory of Soviet Russia, and mass church closures were substantially curtailing access to the sacred. It is at this point that many relics that had remained in ecclesiastical space post-exposure were transferred to museums.50 According to local newspapers, even the single bone of St Simeon’s kept in Sverdlovsk’s Alexander Nevsky cathedral – in no way masquerading as incorrupt – was subject to similar “scientific” scrutiny and removed from public view in October 1929.51 As for the relics in Verkhoturye, one regional official proposed that they be burned, if Soviet law permitted, or hermetically sealed under glass and transferred to an antireligious museum. Having conducted several antireligious events in the district, he anticipated no popular protest should the relics be removed. Contrary to the above-mentioned report which, months earlier, observed numerous pilgrims,52 this official deemed pilgrimage to the closed relics “insignificant”. Indeed, there was no mass support behind the request to open the relics for unimpeded veneration, he argued, this was simply a ruse to increase clerical income.53 Complicating this picture further is the local newspaper report of the 1929 confiscation, which suggested that pilgrimage to the relics was a recent aberration: [F]or three or four years the relics slept in quiet solitude, rarely disturbed by the veneration of pilgrims. [.  .  .] In [19]28–29 pilgrimage to Verkhoturye unexpectedly increased. Once again laudatory troparia and kontakia resounded over the mouldering skeleton. A comedy which had played out over 300 years was extracted from the archives by directors from the Renovationist church.54 It is diffcult to discern whether Renovationist clergy – members of the proSoviet, Bolshevik-sponsored schism that divided the church between 1922 and 1946 – indeed engineered renewed interest in the saint. The church in which St Simeon’s relics lay was handed over to the Renovationists in 1925,55 and a secret report from 1930 suggests that the relics were not removed in the mid-1920s because of the pragmatic need to support the

212

Stella Rock

survival of the Renovationist parish.56 We also know that Renovationist leaders were conficted over relics but pragmatically attuned to their worth. Despite signifcant objections to relics as manifestations of “pagan” belief, the Renovationist church council in May 1923 had voted to keep “genuine” relics and display them honestly. Moreover, they unsuccessfully lobbied for the return of the relics of St Sergius in October 1924, as an object of historical signifcance and as a way of demonstrating Soviet freedom of religion.57 Be that as it may, in 1929 the Renovationists were being persecuted with equal vigour,58 and perhaps provided a plausible public excuse for why, so long after the Revolution, St Simeon should still be the focus of veneration. Whether this report of pilgrimage to sealed relics misrepresents what was a continuing flow of pilgrims, reflects a Renovationist-related revival, or magnifies a putative threat for propaganda purposes, the regional authorities’ concern about the potential impact of their removal is clear from their extensive preparations. In addition to antireligious activism and public meetings generating unanimous or nearly unanimous votes in favour of confiscation, the event itself was planned in detail. The regional commission set up to conduct the confiscation was to be met from the train by an orchestra accompanied by red banners, and the relics were to be unsealed and removed from the reliquary by clergy, to be examined and recorded for a third time by medical experts before being transposed to a glass box. Finally, the relics were to be dispatched by train to a museum and the whole process captured on film.59 The local newspaper was notified of the confiscation five days in advance, and on 30 May 1929, the relics were taken – with the planned media coverage and fanfare – to a local history museum in Nizhny Tagil.60 Displaying relics to the public, stripped of their brocades and padding, was initially considered a sound pedagogical strategy by the Soviet authorities. Ideally, this was to be done in museums, where appropriate display of the remains would dispel any vestiges of religious belief. Initially, relics were to be dispatched to departments for church antiquities, as befitted their obsolete status,61 but soon they were the focus of more scientific education. The head of the Soviet health service singled out the Museum of Social Hygiene’s display of relics as particularly effective: there the mummified body of St Joasaph of Belgorod featured in an exhibit about posthumous change, providing an opportunity to conduct “profounder antireligious propaganda” as well as to educate the public in the workings of the body.62 As a strategy for curtailing pilgrimage, however, museum display could also backfire. In contrast to the way the Moscow museum of Social Hygiene displayed relics, Nizhny Tagil museum presented St Simeon’s bones amongst other, evocative, religious items. “As you enter the room [. . .] you involuntarily feel as if you have entered some sort of сhapel”, wrote a disgruntled assessor in 1932. He was followed into the display by “two peasant women. All their attention was on the relics of St Simeon of Verkhoturye”, although they also venerated the icons on display.63 When the relics of St Feodosy of Totma were moved to Vologda museum of church antiquities and iconography,

The life of dry bones

213

a similar phenomenon occurred: “A mass of people came to the museum not to look at artistic antiques, but to venerate these relics, moreover some brought candles which they tried to stand by the relics, and also made attempts to leave money”. Although such pilgrimage was apparently short lived, the regional justice department was quick to point out that it was aesthetically inappropriate to display human remains amongst works of art and contributed to misunderstandings by the “ignorant, unconscious masses”.64 Although the display context and lack of antireligious interpretation was also identified by the Nizhny Tagil museum observer as the problem, even the showpiece medical exhibit in Moscow was subject to pilgrimage: some came to actively subvert the exhibition, others simply to contemplate the saints in their glass display cases.65 According to post-Soviet ecclesiastical publications, in 1935 – after the arrest of Nizhny Tagil museum’s director – St Simeon’s relics were transferred to Sverdlovsk antireligious museum.66 In 1938, an antireligious museum was reopened in the infamous Ipatiev House, where the relics were displayed under glass, together with a photograph of their exhumation, until at least 1939.67 However, this museum was closed during the brief wartime and post-war truce in the battle with religion, and in 1946, the relics were transferred to the local history museum.68 Here they were apparently kept in storage and never displayed again, although one Verkhoturye monk recalls venerating them as a child in 1964, when museum building works meant the relics were temporarily accessible.69 After failed museumification as a “church antiquity”, and a brief attempt to interpret them in an appropriately atheist manner, the relics were simply removed from view.

Pilgrimage to returned relics While St Simeon’s relics lay quietly in storage, they weren’t forgotten. Stalin’s wartime pragmatism meant a limited return of relics, initially prompted by developments in Nazi-held territories.70 The first request for the further return of relics came from laity rather than clergy; in 1944, believers demanded that the relics of St Mitrofan of Voronezh, in “unseemly” storage in a sealed box, be moved to a church – even if kept sealed.71 The Bishop of Sverdlovsk and Irbit, advised by the local commissioner for Russian Orthodox Church Affairs to appeal in writing for the return of St Simeon’s relics in 1947,72 cited the “genuine, legitimate demands of believers” in his application. He also suggested that the relics would be a “convincing weapon in the hands of the church against schismatic-renegades” outside the bounds of the Patriarchal church, “and make it possible to liquidate the schism in the diocese”.73 Centrally, this argument failed to resonate, and the local commissioner was lambasted for even discussing the possibility with the bishop.74 The head of the new Council for Russian Orthodox Church Affairs was concerned that returning relics would “promote a revival of religious fanaticism and pilgrimages” and generate income for clerics.75 In

214

Stella Rock

addition to discouraging local commissioners from proactively seeking out relics, he proposed to destroy those relics that were stored in museums and were not being actively sought by believers. Those being sought would need to be preserved, because the church was already aware of “their location and condition”, and a few might, pragmatically, have to be returned.76 St Simeon was not to be one of them. Despite concerns over pilgrimage, the relics of ten saints were returned in the second half of the 1940s.77 The degree to which this provided a “significant impulse to pilgrimage”, as Kashevarov suggests,78 is a moot point. The transfers were kept low key, and the Council for Russian Orthodox Church Affairs reported that they did not engender “the revival that clergy counted on”– one reason, perhaps, that the remaining relics were not destroyed.79 However, official data suggest that thousands of pilgrims made their way to reopened monasteries, with the Kievan Caves monastery – home to numerous relics – being a particular draw.80 The shrine of St Sergius also revived as a centre of significant pilgrimage in 1946, and by the 1950s was regularly attracting 10,000–15,000 pilgrims on major feast days.81 This post-war rise in religious practice prompted the last Soviet antireligious campaign, which specifically targeted monasteries and local pilgrimage sites such as holy springs from 1958.82 Early relic exposures provided fodder for propaganda that highlighted the incongruity of Soviet people resorting to “fetishes” in an era of technological sophistication. To combat the fact that “once more, in churches and monasteries clerics are inviting believers to venerate relics, promising that they can heal physical and spiritual weaknesses”, descriptions of the early exposures were republished together with scientific explanations of “miraculous” cures and “incorrupt” bodies such as those in the Kievan Caves monastery.83 Once again, the cult of relics was explained as a way to manipulate human weakness and generate clerical income. In contrast to St Sergius, who remained in one institution that changed from monastery to museum to monastery around him over the course of 26 years, and who was sometimes on display and sometimes inaccessible,84 St Simeon was in storage for 50 years. This reflects, in part, their different statuses – St Simeon’s following was, and is, more regional than St Sergius’s – but it also reflects the historic significance and geographical location of their environments. St Simeon lay in a small town beyond the Urals, far from the centres of political power, the eyes of foreign visitors, and the influence of leading intellectuals. Moreover, his church and shrine canopy were recent history, intimately linked with the executed Romanovs. St Sergius lay in an ancient architectural complex so significant that Lenin himself took an interest in its preservation,85 and he was well placed to act as a beacon of Soviet freedom of religion, centrally positioned on the tourist trail.86 Kenworthy, however, argues that the activism of ordinary believers was key to keeping the saint within the monastery. St Simeon’s local supporters – fewer in number and with less resources – managed to keep his relics accessible for nine

The life of dry bones

215

years after St Sergius was withdrawn from public veneration, but it took them far longer to get him back. St Simeon’s return was part of the religious renaissance prompted by the millennium celebrations of 1988. According to recent research, 72 relics were returned to the church between 1988 and 1991, with increasing fanfare. If the first return, in 1984, was a private transfer of relics hidden by a historian to the newly returned Danilov monastery,87 the return of St Seraphim of Sarov’s relics in 1991 was a multiple-day progress across Russia, with processions and public veneration participated in by thousands, reported nationally and internationally. St Simeon was officially, if quietly, handed over to the diocese in April 1989, after negotiations which began in 1988.88 Since Verkhoturye monastery was in a state of near ruin at the time, his relics were housed in a church in Ekaterinburg until September 1992, attracting individual and group pilgrimages.89 Despite Soviet efforts to invert the health-giving properties of his relics, his shrine – now prominently positioned in Verkhoturye monastery’s huge catholicon – is still opened so that pilgrims may kiss his forehead, and extensive miracle testimony reflects his reputation as a healer.90

Conclusion Pilgrimage to relic shrines fluctuated during the Soviet period, as access to the saints was curtailed or permitted in limited fashion. That access reflected local, ecclesiastical, and national power struggles as well as the political authorities’ priorities and pragmatic concessions. Despite Soviet hopes that the popularity of saints would dissipate once they were revealed as fragmented bones, the story of St Simeon demonstrates that both secular and ecclesiastical authorities understood the enduring potential of relics to unite communities, convey political messages, and strengthen the material and spiritual authority of the Church. Moreover, both Soviet officials and shrine guardians recognized that how and where pilgrims accessed relics could facilitate or impede veneration: stripping the saints of ornate architectural locations, precious reliquaries, and textile finery was an effort to reduce their power, as was exposing them to public scrutiny through glass. When framing St Simeon’s relics as decayed remains, as a source of infectious disease, and as fragments of obsolete culture failed to eradicate pilgrimage, access to them was curtailed entirely. His subsequent return as a healer testifies to the resilient life of dry bones.

Notes 1 My thanks to two anonymous peer reviewers for constructive criticism, and to Robert Greene, Eve Levin, and Christine Worobec for generously sharing thoughts and references. Especial thanks to the Ekaterinburg Metropolia Commission for the Canonization of Saints for copies of Urals Worker (Uralskii Rabochii, UR) and materials held locally in the State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region

216

2 3 4

5 6 7 8 9

10 11

12 13 14

15 16 17 18 19

20 21

Stella Rock

(GASO), State Archive of Administrative Organs of Sverdlovsk (GAAOSO), and the Centre for Documentation of Social Organisations of Sverdlovsk Region (TsDOOSO). Other sources were accessed at the State Archive of the Russian Federation, Moscow (GARF) and remotely from Nizhny Tagil Museum-Reserve “Gornozavodskoi Ural” (TM). This chapter uses a modified Library of Congress system for transliteration, with Verkhotur’e rendered Verkhoturye in accordance with common usage. While some of the Orthodox faithful did make such an association, Robert H. Greene reveals a variegated and theologically sophisticated laity in Greene, Bodies. Greene, Bodies, 146, and Smith, “Bones”, esp. 173. Kashevarov, Sovetskaia vlast’; Semenenko-Basin, “Vskrytiia”, and SemenenkoBasin, “Vozvrashchenie”. Some relics have been the focus of detailed research, see, for example, Andronik, Zakrytie, and Basin, “Mif moshchei”. We know little about which relics were spared public exposure, how and why. Tikhonov and Nechaeva, Uralskaia lavra. Reprinted in Makarii, Verkhoturskii, 167. Veneration of Simeon was recognized at Synodal level only in the early 19th century: see Baidin, Ocherki istorii, 101–2. Levin, “From Corpse”. See also Panchenko, Ivan i Iakov, 95–130. Zykova, “Vskrytiia”, and Tikhonov and Nechaeva, Uralskaia lavra, 277. In the week before the exposure, pilgrims were secretly observed over five days: Doklad, 16–22 September 1920, State Archive of Administrative Organs of Sverdlovsk (GAAOSO), f.R-1, op.2, d.34840 Arkhivno-sledstvennoe delo na Medvedeva Konstantina Petrovicha (arkhimandrita Ksenofonta) 1921 (ll.42– 43ob). See also Zykova, “Vskrytiia”, 172. Kashevarov, Sovetskaia vlast’, 102, and Greene, Bodies, 53, 58. Doklad, 16–22 September 1920, State Archive of Administrative Organs of Sverdlovsk (GAAOSO), f.R-1, op.2, d.34840 Arkhivno-sledstvennoe delo na Medvedeva Konstantina Petrovicha (arkhimandrita Ksenofonta) 1921 (ll.42–43ob). Tikhonov and Nechaeva, Uralskaia lavra, 223, 267; on pilgrim numbers and the development of pilgrim infrastructure, services and souvenirs, see Baidin, Ocherki istorii, 101–4. Uralskii Rabochii, 29 September 1920. Gorev, “Na ‘vskrytii’”. See also the Narkomuist circular dated 25 August 1920, published in Gorev, “Na ‘vskrytii”, and cited in Greene, Bodies, 105–6, and Kashevarov’s survey of Soviet literature from the 1920s and 1930s, Kashevarov, Sovetskaia vlast’, 17–18. “Soobshchenie Olentskoi gubernskoi ChK v Olentskii gubispolkom o rekvizitsiiakh v oktiabre 1918 g. v Aleksandro-Svirskom monastyre”, 22 March 1919. Reproduced in Vorob’ev and Miliakova, Otdelenie tserkvi, 459. Akt, State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.4 d.380 l.119. See, for example, published proceedings of the 1930 exposure of St Juliana of Lazarevsk, in Dolginov, O sviatykh, 93, and Smith, “Bones”, 172. Uralskii Rabochii, 29 September 1920. Cited at length in Tikhonov and Nechaeva, Uralskaia lavra, 290; Zykova, briefly citing the same source, has “decayed remains” (istlennye ostanki), Zykova, “Vskrytiia”, 172. I have checked the relevant manuscript pages and it may be read either way, but netlennye ostanki makes sense contextually: “Arkhivnosledstvennoe delo na K. P. Medvedeva i dr. 1920–1921”, State Archive of Administrative Organs of Sverdlovsk (GAAOSO) d. 34840 ll.50–50ob. State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.4 d.380 l.118ob. Tikhonov and Nechaeva, Uralskaia lavra, 113, 295. For a detailed description of the silver casket, see Makarii, Verkhoturskii, 113–15.

The life of dry bones

217

22 Greene, Bodies, 48–54. 23 See, for example, photographs of the shrines of St Ephrosinia of Suzdal and St Dmitrii of Rostov in the Prokudin-Gorskii Collection online at the Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs. 24 “Raka”. Cf. Byzantine practice, Talbot, “The Relics”. 25 “Osmotra moshchei sviatitelia Ioanna Mitropolita Tobolskogo i Sibirskogo” 3/16 September 1920, Centre for Documentation of Social Organisations of Sverdlovsk Region (TsDOOSO), f.1494 op.1 d.22 l.1ob. 26 Greene, Bodies, 3–4. The exposure of St Alexander Nevsky revealed “a glazed frame” under the lid of the wooden box that held the saint’s bones inside his vast silver reliquary: Kashevarov, Sovetskaia vlast’, 106. 27 Uralskii Rabochii, 29 September 1920; Nechaev, Tserkov’, 278. 28 On the role of reliquaries in creating reverence for relics, see Hahn, “What do reliquaries”, and Hahn, The Reliquary. On the use of the vozdukh in the burial of priests, see Veniamin, Novaia skrizhal’, part 4, chap. 22. 29 Akt, State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.8 d.6 l.6. 30 Uralskii Rabochii, 22 July 1924. 31 Protocols 21 February 1919, State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.3 d.732 l.6. 32 Postanovlenie komissii (five examples printed), Nizhny Tagil Museum-Reserve ‘Gornozavodskoi Ural’, TM 17660. 33 See, for example, English translations from Bezbozhnik 1923 in Rosenberg, Bolshevik Visions, 205–9, and Andrews, Science. 34 Akulov, “Sanitarno-epidemiologicheskaia”, 3–4. 35 Semashko, “Sifilis”, 6. See also the later text that argues that infectious diseases generally are more prevalent near saints’ shrines: Kandidov, Monastyri-muzei, 34. 36 Starks, The Body Soviet, 22–3, 30–2, and Polianski, “Pathologia religiosa”. 37 Postanovlenie komissii (five examples printed), Nizhny Tagil Museum-Reserve ‘Gornozavodskoi Ural’, TM 17660. 38 Petition to Verkhoturye Regional Executive Committee 28 June 1924, State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.8 d.6 l.1. 39 See Greene, Bodies, 173–80 for other examples. 40 Kashevarov, Sovetskaia vlast’, 79. The relics were open for three days before being sealed under glass: Kenworthy, The Heart, 318. 41 S.A. Volkhov and O.N. Trubetskaia, cited in Andronik, Zakrytie, 147, 152–3. See also Kenworthy, The Heart, 315–18 for a comparison of eyewitness accounts. 42 Letter 28 August/10 September 1920, Gubonin, Akty sviateishego, 167–8, and Kenworthy, The Heart, 318. The same happened in Novgorod; State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.4 d.378 l.8. 43 Akt 5 July 1924 State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.8 d.6 l.5. 44 Greene, Bodies, 203. 45 Petition 30 July 1924, State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.8 d.6 ll.3–4. 46 Cited in Tikhonov and Nechaeva, Uralskaia lavra, 296, confirmed by State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.8 d.6 l.8. 47 Memo from the fifth section of the People’s Commissariat of Justice to Verkhoturye regional executive committee 22 August 1924, State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.8 d.6 l.8. 48 Secret report from the head of the Urals region administrative department to the Presidium of the regional executive committee 26 January 1929, State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region (GASO), f.r-102 op.1 d.432 l.51. 49 Ibid. 50 Kashevarov, Sovetskaia vlast’, 111.

218

Stella Rock

51 Uralskii Rabochii, 29 September 1920; Na Smenu!, 17 November 1929. The cathedral was closed in March 1930. 52 State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region (GASO), f.r-102 op.1 d.432 ll.51–51ob. 53 May 1929 report on pre-confiscation preparations, State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region (GASO), f. r-102 op.1 d.432 l.55. See also Tikhonov and Nechaeva, Uralskaia lavra, 307. 54 Uralskii Rabochii, 2 June 1929. 55 Lavrinov, Ocherkii istorii, 185. According to Lavrinov, the diocesan documentation was all destroyed after World War II and the regional CROCA documents have not yet been found and may also have been destroyed; see Lavrinov, “Obnovlencheskii raskol”. 56 Urals region executive committee to VTsIK 23 Jan 1930, State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region (GASO), f.r-102 op.1. d.126 l.189–189ob. 57 Roslof, Red Priests, 83, 106. 58 Ibid., 175. 59 Undated plan State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region (GASO), f. r-102 op.1 d.432 l.56; Secret protocol 15 May 1929, State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region (GASO), f. r-102 op.1 d.432, l.53. See also Tikhonov and Nechaeva, Uralskaia lavra, 307–8. 60 Strictly secret letter to the editor of Uralskii Rabochii, 25 May 1929, State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region (GASO): f. r-102 op.1, d.432, l.52. 61 Instruction of 14 February 1919, State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.R130 op.3 d.213 l.5. 62 Strashun, “Narkomzdrav”, and Greene, Bodies, 150–1. 63 Lovtsov, “Ural’skie”. 64 State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.3 d.768 l.6ob; Smith, “Bones”, 174. 65 Greene, Bodies, 172. 66 Tikhonov and Nechaeva, Uralskaia lavra, 309; Zykova, “Vskrytiia”, 175; “Soprichastnost”, and Silonova, “Kak spasili sokrovishcha”. 67 Documents extracted in Shitov, Dom Ipat’eva, 265–7. 68 Tikhonov and Nechaeva, Uralskaia lavra, 309, and Polianski, “The Antireligious Museum”. 69 He recalls them being in Nizhny Tagil museum, however, and shortly afterwards transferred to Sverdlovsk: see Belkina, “Chudesa”. 70 Semenenko-Basin, “Vozvrashchenie”. 71 Kashevarov, Sovetskaia vlast’, 132. The bishop’s 1945 report on this is reproduced in Semenenko-Basin, “Vozvrashchenie”. 72 Sverdlovsk commissioner’s quarterly report October 1947, State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.R6991 op.1 d.203 l.60. 73 Zaiavlenie 29 September 1947, State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.R6991 op.2 d.617, l.3. Who these “schismatics” are is unclear. In 1937, local officials recorded six Grigorian priests (double the number of Renovationists) in Sverdlovsk region (Ibid, f.R5263 op.1 d.1551 l.25); by January 1947, they reported that all Renovationists had rejoined the Patriarchate and there were no other “movements” in the region, Ibid., f.R6991 op.1 d.203 l.6. See also Lavrinov, “Obnovlencheskii raskol”. Possibly the Bishop had Old Believers in mind (my thanks to Robert Greene and Irina Paert for suggesting this). In personal correspondence, Andrei Levitskiy notes that the epithet “renegade” (otshchepenets) was sometimes used about the Karlovci hierarchy of the Church Abroad and frequently applied to Grigorians and Renovationists, with “anti-renovationist rhetoric continuing well into the 1950s” (June 2018, cited with permission). On the ground, suspicion and enmity may have continued beyond any formal reconciliation. 74 Secret correspondence October 1947, State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.R6991 op.1 d.203 l.56ob.

The life of dry bones

219

75 Chumachenko, Church and State, 81. 76 Secret correspondence Karpov to Voroshilov 3 December 1947, State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.R6991 op.1 d.150 l.228; Chumachenko, Church and State, 82. 77 Semenenko-Basin, “Vozvrashchenie”. 78 Kashevarov, Sovetskaia vlast’, 147. 79 Chumachenko, Church and State, 82. 80 Paert, Spiritual Elders, 190. 81 Kenworthy, The Heart, 372. 82 Rock, “They Burned the Pine”. 83 Dolginov, O sviatykh moshchakh. An article on incorrupt relics in the popular journal Nauka i religiia raises similar themes, highlighting the caves of PskovPechersky Monastery as a natural environment that keeps cut lilac flowering for three to four months; see Shishakov, “Netlennye’ moshchi”. 84 Kenworthy, The Heart, 323–6; Andronik, Zakrytie. 85 Kenworthy, The Heart, 324. 86 The Patriarch used this argument in appealing for the return of the relics, 15 August 1945, Krivova, Pis’ma patriarkha, 68–9. 87 Kashevarov, Sovetskaia vlast’, 190–1. 88 Zykova, “Vskrytiia”, 175–6; “Soprichastnost”; Belkina, “Chudesa”, and Mosunova, “Eksponat”. 89 Testimony collected by the Aleksandro-Nevsky Novo-Tikhvinsky Convent; Zykova, “Vskrytiia”, 176. 90 Belkina, “Chudesa”; miracle testimony accessed by author at Verkhoturye monastery (2014) and Aleksandro-Nevsky Novo-Tikhvinsky Convent (2013).

Sources and bibliography Akulov, K.I. “Sanitarno-epidemiologicheskaia sluzhba Rossiiskoi Federatsii k 50-letiiu obrazovaniia SSSR”. Zdravookhranenie Rossiiskoi Federatsii 11 (1972): 3–7. Andrews, J.T. Science for the Masses: The Bolshevik State, Public Science, and the Popular Imagination in Soviet Russia 1917–1934. College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2003. Andronik (Trubachev), Hegumen, ed. Zakrytie Troitse-Sergievoi lavry i sud’ba moshchei prepodobnogo Sergiia Radonezhskogo v 1918–1946gg. Moscow: Izd. Sovet Russkoi Pravoslavnoi Tserkvi, 2008. Baidin, V.I., ed. Ocherki istorii i kul’tury goroda Verkhotur’ia i Verkhoturskogo kraia. Ekaterinburg: Uralskii Gosudarstvennyi Universitet, 1998. Basin, I. “Mif moshchei prepodobnogo Serafim Sarovskogo”. Stranitsy: Bogoslovie. Kul’tura. Obrazovanie 2, no. 3–4 (1997): 385–97, 538–49. Belkina, L. “Chudesa ot moshchei sviatogo pravednogo Simeona Verkhoturskogo”. Blagovest, 13 September 2002. Accessed 30 November 2019. http://благовестсамара. рф/-public_page_9244. Centre for Documentation of Social Organisations of Sverdlovsk Region (TsDOOSO), f.1494, op.1, d.22 Akty vskrytiia moshchei po tserkvam Urala 1920–1922 (ll.1–5). Chumachenko, T.A. Church and State in Soviet Russia: Russian Orthodoxy from World War II to the Khrushchev Years, edited and translated by E.E. Roslof. New York: M.E. Sharpe, 2002. Dolginov, M., ed. O sviatykh moshchakh. Moscow: Gospolitizdat, 1961. Gorev, M. “Na ‘vskrytii’ (vpechatleniia ochevidtsa)”. Revoliutsiia i Tserkov’ 6–8 (1919).

220

Stella Rock

Greene, R.H. Bodies Like Bright Stars: Saints and Relics in Orthodox Russia. DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2010. Gubonin, M.E., ed. Akty sviateishego Tikhona, patriarkha Moskovskogo i vse Rossii, pozdneishie dokumenty i perepiska o kanonicheskom preemstve vysshei tserkovnoi vlasti 1917–1943. Moscow: Pravoslavnyi Sviato-Tikhonovskii Institut, 1994. Hahn, C. The Reliquary Effect: Enshrining the Sacred Object. London: Reaktion Books, 2017. Hahn, C. “What Do Reliquaries Do for Relics?”. Numen 57, no. 3–4 (2010): 284–316. Kandidov, B. Monastyri-muzei i antireligioznaia propaganda. Moscow: Bezbozhnik, 1929. Kashevarov, A.N. Sovetskaia vlast’ i sud’by moshchei pravoslavnykh sviatykh. St Petersburg: Nauka, 2013. Kenworthy, S.M. The Heart of Russia: Trinity-Sergius, Monasticism and Society after 1825. New York: Oxford University Press, 2010. Krivova, N.A., ed. Pis’ma patriarkha Alekseiia I v Sovet po delam Russkoi pravoslavnoi tserkvi pri Sovete narodnykh kommissarov – Sovete ministrov SSSR. Vol. 1: 1945–1953. Moscow: Rossiiskaia politicheskaia entsiklopediia, 2009. Accessed 5 April 2017. http://statearchive.ru/425. Lavrinov, V., Archpriest. “Obnovlencheskii raskol v Ekaterinburgskoi (Sverdlovskoi) eparkhii v godi Velikoi Otechestvennoi voiny”. In XVIII Ezhegodnaia bogoslovskaia konferentsiia Pravoslavnogo Sviato-Tikhonovskogo Gumanitarnogo universiteta. Vol. 1, 349–52. Moscow: PSTGU, 2008. Lavrinov, V., Archpriest. Ocherkii istorii Obnovlencheskogo raskola na Urale 1922– 1945. Moscow: Izd. Krutitskogo podvor’ia, 2007. Levin, E. “From Corpse to Cult in Early Modern Russia”. In Orthodox Russia: Belief and Practice under the Tsars, edited by V.A. Kivelson, and R.H. Greene, 81–103. University Park, Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2003. Library of Congress. Prints & Photographs Online Catalog. Prokudin-Gorskii Collection. Accessed 30 November 2019. www.loc.gov/pictures/collection/prok/. Lovtsov, N. “Ural’skie kraevedencheskie ocherki”. Sovetskoe kraevedenie 2 (1932): 34–49. Makarii (Mirovluibov), Archimandrite. Verkhoturskii Nikolaevskii monastyr’ i ego sviatynia. Nizhny Novgorod: Izd. otdel Nizhegorodskoi eparkhii pri Voznesenskom Pecherskom monastyre, 2012. Mosunova, T. “Eksponat No.12125”. Verkhotur’e starina 2 (2001): 12. Na Smenu!, 17 November 1929. Nechaev, M.G. Tserkov’ na Urale v period velikikh potriasenii: 1917–1922. Perm: Ural’skii gos. universitet, 2004. Nizhny Tagil Museum-Reserve “Gornozavodskoi Ural”, TM 17659, Akt. Nizhny Tagil Museum-Reserve “Gornozavodskoi Ural”, TM 17660, Postanovlenie komissii. Nizhny Tagil Museum-Reserve “Gornozavodskoi Ural”, TM 17661, Akt osmotra i iz’iatiia tak nazyvaemykh moshchei “Simeona Pravednogo” Verkhoturskogo, nakhodiashchikhsia v Kresto-Vozdvizhenskom sobore s. Verkhotur’ia, 30 May 1929. Paert, I. Spiritual Elders: Charisma and Tradition in Russian Orthodoxy. DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2010. Panchenko, A.A. Ivan i Iakov – Neobychnye sviatye iz bolotistoi mestnostu: “Krest’ianskaia agiologiia” i religioznye praktiki v Rossii Novogo Vremenii. Moscow: Novoe literaturnoe obozrenie, 2012.

The life of dry bones

221

Polianski, I.J. “The Antireligious Museum: Soviet Heterotopia between Transcending and Remembering Religious Heritage”. In Science, Religion and Communism in Cold War Europe, edited by P. Betts, and S.A. Smith, 253–73. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016. Polianski, I.J. “Pathologia religiosa: Medicine and the Anti-Religious Movement in the Early Soviet Union”. Journal of Contemporary History 53, no. 3 (2018): 524–49. “Raka”. In Entsiklopeicheskii slovar’, edited by F.A. Brokgauza, and I.A. Efrona. Vol. 26, 217–18. St Petersburg: Tip. Akts. Obshch. Izd. delo, byvshee Brokgauz-Efron, 1899. Rock, S. “‘They Burned the Pine, But the Place Remains All the Same’: Pilgrimage in the Changing Landscape of Soviet Russia”. In State Secularism and Lived Religion in Soviet Russia and Ukraine, edited by C. Wanner, 159–89. New York: Oxford University Press, 2012. Rosenberg, W.G., ed., Bolshevik Visions: First Phase of the Cultural Revolution in Soviet Russia. Ann Arbor: Ardis, 1984. Roslof, E.E. Red Priests: Renovationism, Russian Orthodoxy, and Revolution, 1905–1946. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002. Semashko, N. “Sifilis i tserkovnye obychai”. Nash Bezbozhnik, 17 May 1924. Semenenko-Basin, I. “Vozvrashchenie moshchei sviatykh Russkoi Pravoslavnoi tserkvi v 1940-x godakh”. Stranitsy: Bogoslovie. Kul’tura. Obrazovanie 9, no. 1 (2004): 74–88. Semenenko-Basin, I. “Vskrytiia sviatykh moshchei sovetskogo vremeni v zerkale nauchnykh issledovanii”. Stranitsy: Bogoslovie. Kul’tura. Obrazovanie 9, no. 4 (2004): 558–62. Shishakov, V. “Netlennye’ moshchi”. Nauka i religiia 9 (1961): 32. Shitov, V. Dom Ipat’eva: Letopisnaia khronika v dokumentakh i fotografiiakh 1877– 1977. Ekaterinburg: Avto Graf, 2013. Silonova, O. “Kak spasili sokrovishcha”. Accessed 17 August 2016. http://historyn tagil.ru/3_16.htm. Smith, S. “Bones of Contention: Bolsheviks and the Struggle against Relics 1918– 1930”. Past and Present 204, no. 1 (2009): 155–94. “‘Soprichastnost’. Vspominaet Nina Aleksandrovna Goncharova, starshii nauchnyi sotrudnik oblastnogo kraevedencheskogo muzeia, poslednaia khranitel’nitsa moshchei sviatogo Simeona Verkhoturskogo”. Pravoslavnaia gazeta 34, no. 307 (2004): 11. Starks, T. The Body Soviet: Propaganda, Hygiene and the Revolutionary State. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2008. State Archive of Administrative Organs of Sverdlovsk (GAAOSO), f.R-1, op.2, d.34840 Arkhivno-sledstvennoe delo na Medvedeva Konstantina Petrovicha (arkhimandrita Ksenofonta) 1921 (ll.42–43ob). State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.3 d.732 Protokoly Komissii po osmotru Uspenskogo kafedral’nogo sobora v gorode Vladimire i vskrytiia moshchei sviatykh kniazei Gleba, Georgiia i Andreia, 12 December 1919–1920. State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.3 d.768 Khodataistva veruiushchikh grazhdan o perenesenii moshchei Feodosiia Totemskogo iz muzeia tserkovnykh drevnostei v odin iz khramov goroda Vologdy, perepiska s Vologodskim otdelom Iustitsii po etomu voprosu, 8 December 1919–29 June 1920. State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.4 d.378 Perepiska s Novgorodskim gubispolkomom po delu o kontrrevoliutsionnoi agitatsii byvshego

222

Stella Rock

Novgoroskogo eparkhial’nogo soveta i o prakticheskoi rabote gubispolkoma po otdeleniu tserkvi ot gosudarstva. Svedeniia o konfiskovannykh kapitalakh Novgorodskikh gorodskikh tserkvei i drugikh religioznykh organizatsii, 29 December 1920–9 September 1922. State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.4 d.380 Svedeniia i perepiska s gubernskimi otdelami iustitsii o kolichestve moshchei, imeiushchikhsia v predelakh gubernii. Akty i protokoly vskrytiia moshchei Prokopiia Ust’ianskogo, Kirilla Novozerskogo, Simeona Pravednogo i Feodosiia Prepodobnogo 1920. State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.A353 op.8 d.6 Perepiska s Verkhoturskim raionnym ispolkom Ural’skoi oblasti po zaiavleniiu veruiushchikh grazhdan ob otkrytii moshchei Simeona v gorode Verkhotu’re, akty vskrytiia moschei, 5 July 1924–22 August 1924. State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), f.R130 op.3 d.213 Perepiska s Narodnym Komissariatom Iustitsii i dr. ucherezhdeniiami o vskrytii i proverke moshchei. Strashun, I.D. “Narkomzdrav i bor’ba za kul’turu”. Vlast’ Sovetov, 7 October 1924. Talbot, A.M. “The Relics of New Saints: Deposition, Translation and Veneration in Middle and Late Byzantium”. In Saints and Sacred Matter: The Cult of Relics in Byzantium and Beyond, edited by C. Hahn, and H.A. Klein, 215–30. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 2015. Tikhonov (Zatekin), Hegumen, and M.I. Nechaeva. Uralskaia lavra. Ekaterinburg: Ekaterinburgskoe eparkhial’noe upravlenie, 2006. Uralskii Rabochii, 29 September 1920. Uralskii Rabochii, 22 July 1924. Uralskii Rabochii, 25 May 1929. Uralskii Rabochii, 2 June 1929. Uralskii Rabochii, 3 October 1929. Veniamin (Krasnopevkov-Rumovskii), Archbishop. Novaia skrizhal’ (1857). Accessed 22 November 2018. https://azbyka.ru/otechnik/Veniamin_Krasnopevkov_Rumovskij/ novaja-skrizhal/. Vorob’ev, V., and L.B. Miliakova, eds. Otdelenie tserkvi ot gosudarstva i skoly ot tserkvi v Sovetskoi Rossii oktiabr’ 1917–1918: Sbornik dokumentov. Moscow: Izdatel’stvo Pravoslavnogo Sviato-Tikhonovskogo gumanitarnogo universiteta, 2016. Zykova, N.V. “Vskrytiia i vtoroe obretenie moshchei sviatogo pravednogo Simeona Verkhoturskogo v XX veke”. In Chetyre veka pravoslavnogo monashestva na vostochnom Urale, edited by A.I. Konyuchenko, 171–6. Ekaterinburg: RAN Uralskoe otdelenie Institut Istorii i Arkheologii, 2004.

Part 4

Relics and science  

12 The relics of the True Cross An interdisciplinary approach Georges Kazan and Thomas Higham

Aims As one of its oldest, most widespread, and highly valued expressions, the Wood of the Cross is central to the understanding of material religion within Christianity.1 Following the metaphysical experience offered by the Eucharist, the public circulation and veneration of relics of the Wood set a precedent by popularizing the more direct sensations of engagement offered by relics.2 Relics of the Wood were highly valuable and easy to counterfeit.3 At the Reformation, the sheer quantity of Wood of the Cross in circulation made it a target for Protestant theologians seeking to impugn the authority of the Roman Catholic Church.4 In response, Catholic scholars began to undertake the first scientific studies of relics.5 The purpose of this scientific study of relics of the Wood of the Cross is not to confirm their authenticity, which remains a religious matter. Instead, the authors seek to advance a collaborative, interdisciplinary assessment of this important evidence, in which an analysis of the written sources and material contexts is compared with new data obtained directly from the relics themselves, using scientific analyses that are either minimally invasive or entirely non-invasive. This explores and compares the origins, use, circulation, and chronology of relics of the Wood and of the substances applied to them for purposes of veneration and as media for holy healing. The aim is not only to reach a clearer understanding of the history of the relics of the Wood of the Cross, particularly during Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages, but also to shed new light on their audiences over the centuries – those who valued, adorned, documented, and preserved them. This research therefore offers new insights into the evolution of religious, political, and personal practices concerning the Wood of the Cross and enables a modern reassessment of the written and oral sources that concern them, and of the material contexts created to embellish and define them.

Provisional methodology Our work to date has led us to evaluate relics of the Wood of the Cross on the following criteria: 1 2

Historical background. Material context.

226 3 4 5 6

Georges Kazan and Thomas Higham Morphology. Species. Surface analysis of secondary substances and contaminants. Scientific dating.

For the purposes of this study, it has been useful to undertake a preliminary analysis of the history of the relic based on the available written and material evidence, although an in-depth assessment of the manuscript traditions and possible interpolations is still required. Historical sources are considered chronologically, with evidence from contemporary texts progressively compared with that from later sources. Texts and objects from the main centres of the cult of the Cross (Jerusalem, Constantinople, and Rome) are also given particular attention.

Historical background Following its mention in the Gospels, tradition relates that the Wood of the Cross was rediscovered in Jerusalem during the construction of the new cathedral complex at the site of Christ’s Passion, which began in c. 325 and was completed in 347. A Roman temple, built in c. 135, previously occupied the site: the cathedral’s Christian builders considered all the wood and stone used in this temple to be spiritually tainted and cleared these away before construction began.6 On the basis of the accounts of its discovery, Jerusalem’s relic of the Wood of the Cross would therefore predate this temple’s construction and could date to the first century or earlier.7 The first clear mentions of the Wood’s existence are variously dated to AD 348, 350, or 351.8 These state that, by that time, fragments of the relic were already spread across the known world, a claim supported by archaeology.9 Such relics were circulated as prestige gifts, issued by the bishop of Jerusalem to prominent pilgrims and foreign dignitaries. According to legend, the Cross was discovered in 326–8 by Helena, mother of the Emperor Constantine, who died in c. 330. Given that this was at least 20 years before the first mention of the Wood in contemporary sources, and almost 70 years before the legend first appears in surviving sources, and considering the significant variations in the major accounts of the alleged discovery, it has been suggested the Wood was discovered only later, in 347 or shortly before.10 While fragments of the Jerusalem relic of the Wood were widely circulated, these were usually small objects intended for private devotion, with one notable exception.11 In c. 545, the contemporary historian Procopius mentions another major relic of the Wood of the Cross venerated publicly at Apamea in Syria, said to have been covertly obtained from Jerusalem many years before, measuring approximately one cubit in length.12 The relic was forcibly removed to Antioch in order to be sawn in half lengthways in 565 at the orders of the Byzantine Emperor, Justin II (565–74): one half was returned and the other removed to Constantinople, where it was exposed

The relics of the True Cross

227

for veneration at the cathedral of Hagia Sophia for ten days.13 From this time, it seems, Constantinople’s rulers would assume the privilege of making public gifts of the Wood as a token of imperial favour.14 In c. 574, we propose, the remainder of the relic was transferred from Apamea relic to Constantinople.15 Jerusalem remained the authoritative seat of the Wood of the Cross until the relic was seized by the Sasanian Persians in 614. According to one source, the relic remained sealed inside its casket, which was unlocked by the key of the Bishop of Jerusalem upon its return, indicating therefore that it was the same object.16 Despite its recovery by the Byzantine Emperor Heraclius in 628 and its triumphant display in Jerusalem in 630, the relic was then permanently transferred to Constantinople, known as the New Jerusalem.17 Constantinople thus became the centre of the relic’s cult, assuming the Jerusalem tradition of exposing the relic to public veneration during the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross on 14 September. Unlike Jerusalem and Constantinople, however, Rome does not appear to have obtained a major, authoritative relic of the Wood of the Cross.18 The earliest clear evidence for the cult of the Wood dates to the later fifth century. Pope Hilarus (461–8) and his successors had a modest supply of the relic with which they were able to found chapels to the Holy Cross within the Lateran Cathedral and St Peter’s Basilica.19 These seem to have consisted of small fragments: when Pope Gregory the Great (590–604) chose to distribute relics of the Wood, he was able to provide only tiny splinters, usually packed alongside other relics. Avitus, bishop of Vienne (494–518) makes clear that such relics did not have the same appeal as the Jerusalem Wood: he acknowledges that while the Pope then possessed a fragment of the Wood, it was preferable to request such relics not from Rome but directly from Jerusalem, so as to “free us from any hesitation and doubt”.20 A commemoration in early May of the Finding of the Cross was established in Naples after the translation into Latin of the Acta Cyriaci in that city during the late sixth century, with some churches in Rome adopting this feast in the early seventh century.21 However, when Pope Sergius I (687–701) rediscovered a small relic of the Wood within the treasury of St Peter’s Basilica, he chose to follow Jerusalem and Constantinople in instituting the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross on 14 September.22 The popes of Rome and other rulers in the Latin West continued to seek and gratefully accept relics of the Wood from Jerusalem and Constantinople throughout the Middle Ages.23 Rome’s gifts of the Wood continued to be rare and consist of small fragments until Pope Urban II (1088–99) began to dispense relics of the Wood on a far vaster scale than previously, consecrating altars across France as he galvanized support for the First Crusade. In spite of the Schism between the churches of Rome and Constantinople in 1054, Constantinople has been suggested as a plausible source.24 The date and origin of the 11th-century Byzantine reliquary of the Wood at Holy Cross Abbey in Poitiers support this theory, given Urban II’s passage through

228

Georges Kazan and Thomas Higham

the area in 1096, when he dedicated the nearby church of St Jean de Montierneuf.25 If Constantinople supplied Urban with relics and reliquaries as part of a concerted strategy, this would add weight to Frankopan’s view that the Byzantine Empire played an important role in the launching of the First Crusade.26 A scientific study of the date, species, and origin of relics of the Wood distributed by Urban II may help answer this important question. There appears to be no clear mention of the Wood’s presence in Jerusalem until the city’s capture by armies of the First Crusade in 1099, when a relic of the Cross was revealed by the city’s inhabitants to the city’s new Latin patriarch, Arnulf of Chocques.27 Jerusalem’s new Latin sovereigns imitated Byzantine practices, carrying their Wood of the Cross before their armies as a military talisman and exposing it for veneration as it had been in fourth-century Jerusalem, placed inside a silver casket, alongside the reputedly rediscovered relics of the Titulus Crucis, Ring of Solomon and Horn of Anointing.28 Control of the Holy Land lent credence to the crusader’s ability to produce relics such as these and others, such as a head of John the Baptist rediscovered in c. 1145. These relics, in turn, served to lend added legitimacy to the crusader states and encourage the flow of pilgrims to the Holy Land. While some European rulers, such as Sigurd I Magnusson of Norway (c. 1090–1130), eagerly sought fragments of the crusader relic of the Wood, it seems that in the Latin West relics of the Wood from Constantinople were still preferred.29 This state of affairs was not to last long. In 1187, Crusader Jerusalem’s relic of the Cross was captured by Saladin at the Battle of Hattin and shortly thereafter vanished from history.30 In 1204, meanwhile, the armies of the Fourth Crusade sacked Constantinople. Relics of great antiquity, including the Wood of the Cross, were scattered throughout the palaces and cathedrals of the Latin West. Constantinople’s Greek rulers, upon recapturing the city in 1261, appear to have followed the example of the Crusaders in the Holy Land in replenishing its famed supply of relics, which they used as diplomatic gifts in their attempts to win allies in their struggle with the Ottoman Turks.31 By the 15th century, such practices had caused a relics with a Byzantine provenance to be viewed with suspicion.32 Following the Schism and the reputed discovery of a rival relic of the Wood in Crusader Jerusalem, a number of traditions began to appear in written sources that gave antiquity and authority to Rome’s cult of the Wood of the Cross, allowing the city to gradually rival Constantinople (and its title of New Jerusalem) and Crusader Jerusalem. The earliest clear reference to Helena having brought a relic of the Wood to Rome dates from around the year 1100 and relates to the city’s Lateran cathedral.33 Meanwhile, a seal of Cardinal Gerardo Caccianemici, the future Pope Lucius II (1144–5), was found on the casket of the Titulus Crucis relic concealed in a wall of the Roman church of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme.34 The tradition that Helena had deposited relics of the Wood at Santa Croce appears for the first time in the 15th century.35 By this time, as the last of the great patriarchal sees

The relics of the True Cross

229

surviving in Christendom, Rome’s tradition for possessing and venerating relics of the Wood of the Cross had become the most authoritative.

Material context The written sources indicate that Constantinople possessed a large part of the Jerusalem Wood from 565 and held all major pieces of the Wood from 630 until its sack by crusaders in 1204. Reliquaries produced for the imperial elite at Constantinople were therefore particularly prized. Byzantine craftsmen established a number of reliquary forms for the Wood, which would be acquired or imitated by Western craftsmen. By examining these caskets, one may gain a better understanding of their contents’ history. In Jerusalem, Apamea, and Constantinople, the Wood of the Cross was kept inside a precious casket.36 By the ninth century, these types of theke (Greek: “casket”) seem to have inspired a more formalized type of Byzantine reliquary used for relics of the Wood, known as a staurotheke (tr. “cross casket”).37 According to the Liber Pontificalis, compiled in the sixth century, the emperor Constantine ordered the erection of golden, gem-studded crosses at the basilicas of St Peter and of St Paul in Rome and possibly at Jerusalem, after his vision of a radiant cross in the sky before his victory outside Rome in 312.38 These did not contain relics.39 Such a cross appears as a twodimensional decorative motif in mosaics, paintings, and engravings. Known as the crux gemmata, the form was developed under Constantine to serve as an object for imperial devotion, expressing the sanctity of the Cross in material form before the Wood of the Cross was discovered.40 A tradition in Byzantine coronations, dating back to at least 393, also involved the use of a jewelled cross, kept in the imperial palace chapel of St Stephen, identified by scholars as the Cross of Constantine.41 By the sixth century, this form was regularly adapted to serve as a reliquary for the Empire’s secular and religious elite in Constantinople, Jerusalem, and Rome. By the first half of the sixth century, a jewelled processional cross matching the description of the Cross of Constantine was paraded through Constantinople on feast days and said to contain a fragment of the Jerusalem Wood.42 In Rome, when Pope Hilarus (461–8) offered a separate gold, gemmed liturgical cross to his chapel of the Holy Cross, he placed the relic in a confessio beneath the altar. However, a few decades later, Pope Symmachus (498–514) chose instead to place his relic inside a crux gemmata.43 The Church of Jerusalem, meanwhile, offered St Simeon the Younger (521–97) a relic of the Wood, enclosed inside a golden cross, which also contained fragments of Golgotha and the Holy Sepulchre.44 Imperial reliquaries of the Wood issued by Justin II (565–74) from Constantinople adopted the form of a crux gemmata, such as the Crux Vaticana, which he offered to the Church of Rome, and the fragment of the Wood donated to Radegunda in Poitiers in 569.45 By the seventh century, the Church of Rome and

230

Georges Kazan and Thomas Higham

Constantinople’s imperial elite had also begun to offer crux gemmata reliquaries as prestigious gifts.46 Meanwhile, the imperial battle insignia, which under Constantine had been transformed into the cruciform Chrismon, is known to have been adapted to include relics of the Wood by the reign of the Emperor Maurice (582–602).47 During the eras of Iconoclasm (726–87 and 814–42), the Cross gained special importance in Byzantine art, replacing many holy figural images. During this period, the earliest examples of reliquaries using Byzantine cloisonné glass enamel technique were produced.48 These feature figural decoration and are preserved in the Latin West, suggesting they were produced or brought by those fleeing Byzantine Iconoclasm. Reliquaries decorated with enamel panels remained popular at Constantinople into the 12th century. Byzantine artisans continued to produce major reliquaries for the Wood in the style of the crux gemmata and the staurotheke, sometimes in combination. The Limburg Staurotheke contains a double-armed cross, inscribed with the names of the Byzantine emperors Constantine VII and Romanos II, who reigned jointly from 945 to 959. It contains seven fragments of the Wood, which measure 2 millimetres to 4 millimetres thick and 17 millimetres wide, the largest being 21 centimetres long, set on top of a wood core, encased in gilded silver. At some point between 963 and 985, this relic was provided with a precious staurotheke by Basil, an illegitimate son of Romanos I. Another major form of reliquary for the Wood, the triptych, emerged in Byzantine art by around the late tenth century.49 The above-mentioned reliquary forms could also be produced in miniature for the purpose of private devotion.50 Furthermore, relics of the Wood could be incorporated into personal objects, such as rings and encolpia (pectoral pendants with a hollow cavity for relics).51 A number of examples of various shapes, many cruciform, dating from the fifth to seventh centuries, survive from Constantinople, Rome, and Jerusalem.52 Personal reliquaries of this type could also serve as diplomatic gifts.53 During the ninth century, encolpion-type reliquaries of the Wood continued to be employed at the highest level of society, using the costliest materials. The use of large crystals as settings for relics of the Wood seems to have been popular in the Byzantine Empire, with examples offered by Constantinople’s patriarchs to the Church of Rome in 811 and 880,54 and by the Byzantine emperor Basil I to Louis II, King of East Francia in 872.55 Byzantine reliquaries of the Wood that reached the Latin West could also be rehoused within larger Western reliquaries, which sometimes imitated their appearance.56 Alternatively, Byzantine relics arriving in the West, or relics intended to be identified as such, could be rehoused inside completely new reliquaries.57 Such works imitated not only Byzantine forms but also their fabric. For example, the use of large crystals on reliquaries and pendants was also imitated in the West from the ninth century.58 From the 12th to 14th centuries, craftsmen in the Latin West imitated Byzantine models, using gilded copper or the elegant champlevé enamels produced in the Meuse Valley, Cologne, or Limoges.

The relics of the True Cross

231

The expansion of the cult of the Wood of the Cross beyond the elite ranks of society can be seen in the Byzantine East with the devotion to holy oil and wax sanctified by contact. During the sixth and seventh centuries, pilgrims visiting the Wood in Jerusalem often collected liquid eulogia (tr. “blessings”) from the Wood in ampullae made of base materials such as tin or lead, or even of terracotta. From the seventh century, the Wood of the Cross was venerated in the imperial capital, where it was said to exude a healing balm.59 From the ninth to the 12th century, a series of relatively affordable bronze, cruciform encolpia was mass-produced at Constantinople: these held sanctified wax or balm, or even small pieces of the Wood or other relics.60 The material context of relics of the Wood can therefore be useful for indicating the use and the chronology of the appearance in the material record.

Morphology Another method for assessing relics of the Wood is to investigate the physical properties directly, beginning with the size and shape. According to a leading scholar on the history of the relic, J.W. Drijvers, during the excavation and construction of Jerusalem’s cathedral buildings, “it is not likely that three complete crosses were found, as the later legends tell us, but rather a small chunk or chunks of wood”.61 This is supported by the account of the pilgrim Egeria, who witnessed the display of the relic in c. 384 and describes it as small enough to be set on a single table (mensa) along with the Titulus, where it was held down by the bishop, with one hand placed at either extremity.62 This would suggest that the main relic of the Wood discovered in Jerusalem during the reign of Constantine was a maximum of 150 centimetres long but probably no longer than approximately 50 centimetres, or the distance between a person’s hands when held comfortably apart at shoulder width. The Apamea relic is described as measuring one cubit in length. While a range of different cubits had been established by this time, it seems most probable that the length of this was between 44 centimetres and 47 centimetres. This size would easily fit with Egeria’s description of the Wood. In the Byzantine world, where icons were a subject of special veneration, the very dimensions of holy objects were sacred. Given that even the longest fragments of the relic preserved at Limburg are only a few millimetres thick and considering Paulinus of Nola’s account of the size of the Jerusalem Wood remaining unchanged despite the frequent removal of fragments, thus presumably maintaining its frontal appearance, we would conclude that the Wood was divided lengthways in thin slices (the manner by which the Apamea relic was divided in 565).63 Given the apparently similar sizes of the Jerusalem and Apamea relics, it is indeed possible that the latter was also removed from the former in this same way or was intended to resemble its appearance.64 Adomnan describes the three major pieces of the Wood present in Constantinople in c. 680. These, we presume, consisted of the Jerusalem Wood recovered from Persia in 628 and both parts of the divided Apamea section. On the

232 Georges Kazan and Thomas Higham

APAMEA

One Cubit

APAMEA

JERUSALEM

basis of the above-mentioned evidence, all three parts measured at most one cubit in length. Adomnan describes the Wood relics laid out to form a cross: one piece representing the transverse beam and another the main upright shaft. The passage indicates that only upon careful inspection could one observe that the latter had been cut into two equal parts.65 We would therefore identify these two portions of equal length with the Apamea relic, cut lengthways, and the transverse with the Jerusalem relic (See Figure 12.1). Adomnan notes that all three pieces were displayed inside the same elaborately-decorated wooden casket and exposed for veneration on an altar that measured two cubits long by one cubit wide. If the box and its contents fitted the dimensions of this altar exactly, this would have accommodated the longitudinal arrangement of the two parts of the Apamea relic, each a maximum of one cubit long, while allowing for a transverse beam, hypothetically identified here as the Jerusalem Wood, which would thus also have measured a maximum of one cubit in length. This fully supports the hypotheses presented earlier. These fndings can be compared with the estimates for the total volume of the Cross and the major relics of its Wood by the French scholar and architect Rohault de Fleury. According to his calculations, at the time of the Crucifxion, the upright beam would have measured approximately 480 centimetres in length, and the transverse at least 225 centimetres, the width and thickness of both shafts being about 16 centimetres, giving a total volume of approximately 180 million millimetres cubed.66 However, he calculated that existing relics of the Wood (as well as some lost examples known only from descriptions)

Two Cubits Figure 12.1 Proposed layout of major relics of the Wood at Constantinople in c. 680 Source: Georges Kazan

The relics of the True Cross

233

amounted to less than 5 million millimetres cubed. He tripled this fgure to account for any remaining unknown fragments, thus reaching 15 million millimetres cubed, a fgure he deemed acceptable on the basis of his estimated total volume of the Cross. If Rohault de Fleury’s modest estimate of 16 centimetres for the original width and thickness of the beams of the Cross can be considered realistic, and if, as proposed here, the original length was a cubit of at most 47 centimetres, then the maximum likely volume of the Jerusalem relic of the Wood would have been around 12 million millimetres cubed. Interestingly, this would correspond approximately to de Fleury’s estimate of the total volume of relics of the Wood in circulation, although on the basis of their different wood species, it is clear that many have a separate origin. It therefore appears that the largest relics of the Wood issued by Byzantine emperors and the Jerusalem Church rarely approached 30 centimetres in total length or significantly exceeded 2 centimetres in width or 4 millimetres in thickness.67 This would suggest that larger relics are less likely to have originated from the earliest known fragments of the Wood, held in Jerusalem and subsequently in Constantinople. Morphology is thus a valuable discriminator in the evaluation of relics of the Wood. Overall, it would also seem useful to record the volume of relics studied and maintain a running total for comparison with the estimated volume of the Wood discovered in the fourth century. This can be done using traditional methods, or with the assistance of 3D photography, laser scanning, or CT imaging.

Species According to the Sacred Tradition of the Eastern Orthodox Church, the True Cross was made from three types of wood: cypress, pine, and cedar. This alludes to the decoration of the Temple of Jerusalem in the Book of Isaiah 60:13, suggesting a theological interpretation of the Wood’s composition as a New Testament type, intended as a mystical reflection of a prototype in the Hebrew Bible. The tradition appears to have been established around AD 400, when it is repeated by John Chrysostom, Bishop of Constantinople, a man familiar with relics of the Wood, which he describes elsewhere.68 While the separate species listed are all evergreen and coniferous, there appears to have been some difficulty in the interpretation of the Hebrew word ‫ְתַּאשּׁוּר‬, with some translations preferring “cedar” and others “boxwood”, although the former seems more likely. By the time of the venerable Bede (672–735), this difficulty had been resolved after a fashion by increasing the list of trees species to four: cypress, pine, cedar, and boxwood.69 Bede had access to the accounts of pilgrims visiting Byzantine and Roman relics of the Cross, as well as a relic of the Wood of his own. He goes further by specifying which of these woods were used to make the different parts of the Cross: the main upright beam of cypress, the transverse of cedar, and the upper end of pine, with boxwood included, perhaps cautiously, not as the fabric of the actual Cross, but merely as the material used for the Titulus.

234

Georges Kazan and Thomas Higham

On the basis of the above-mentioned evidence, however, it seems likely that only one piece of the Wood was discovered in Jerusalem. Several sources identify a single species. The Piacenza Pilgrim, who viewed the Jerusalem relic of the Wood himself, describes it as coming from a nut tree.70 Justus Lipsius in the 16th century concluded that the Wood was of a single species – oak – since this this tree was common in Judaea, and its wood was strong and appropriate for the task.71 Jacob Gretser, meanwhile, in his De Cruce Christi (1598), examined several relics of the Wood, and admitted that he could not clearly identify their species, but was certain that this was not oak. Rohault de Fleury, meanwhile, concluded that the majority of the relics of the Wood he examined were coniferous, mainly consisting of pine or perhaps of cedar.72 He based this opinion on a study of four relics of the Wood using the most advanced scientific analysis for this available in his day: examination by microscope. The relics in question came from celebrated European church collections: Santa Croce in Rome, Notre Dame in Paris, and the Cathedrals of Pisa and Florence. In each case, the species was determined to be pine. A fragment of olive wood, fixed by a Roman nail to the heel-bone of the Crucified Man from Giv’at ha-Mivtar, suggested to the anatomist Nicu Haas that olive wood was indeed used for crucifixion in first-century Jerusalem.73 However, Zias and Sekeles’s subsequent study shows that this merely consisted of a small block of olive wood used to hold a crucifixion nail in place, broadening the head so that it could not slip out.74 The physical origins of a relic of the Wood can today be explored scientifically in a number of different ways. Wood species are commonly and inexpensively identified using macroscopic and microscopic analyses. This usually involves observations of a wood sample being taken in the transverse, radial, and tangential planes, which can require the removal of small sections, allowing the structure of the wood to be more clearly visible. An alternative to any invasive study is the use of computed tomography (CT) imaging, which can provide sufficiently clear images of the internal structure of a wood fragment without causing any damage to the object. For an even more precise species and geographical origin, wood DNA analysis is a growing area of research. By identifying the species of tree from which relics of the Wood of the Cross derive, it is possible to further classify and compare the main relics of the Wood of the Cross to explore possible connections as well as to assess the accuracy of the above traditions and of the methods used to identify their species. On the basis of the present study, the three fragments exposed in Hagia Sophia by c. 680, identified as the main relics of the Wood found in Jerusalem, should be of one or possibly two wood species.75 The relic in Poitiers is said to be composed of an equal-armed cross of oak set atop a tau-shaped piece of cedar wood, whereas the Limburg Wood relics have been identified as sycamore wood.76 Further research in this area therefore offers a valuable avenue for expanding our understanding of the history of this relic, especially before its massive expansion in the 11th century.

The relics of the True Cross

235

Surface analysis In the Byzantine Empire, the veneration of Christian relics often involved the use of secondary substances. Gifts of holy oil or wine could be poured as a libation into the reliquary or principal lamp at a relic shrine, while liquid or unguents could be taken by visitors as secondary relics, imbued with holy healing properties. In the case of the True Cross, ampullae (small flasks) of oil were touched to the relic, with their contents boiling over as a sign that they had absorbed the relic’s holy powers.77 In the sixth and seventh centuries, a series of metal flasks were produced in the Holy Land, some of which depict the Holy Cross and are inscribed as containing “Oil from the Wood of Life”.78 At Constantinople, the casket in which the Wood of the Cross was kept in c. 680 was filled with perfumed oil.79 Adomnan mentions that this emanated from the knots in the wood of all three fragments and had miraculous healing properties. Relics of the Wood kept for personal devotion at Constantinople in the early fifth century could be packed in wax, used for anointing by their owners.80 In view of this information, importance must be given to the composition of surface materials present on relics of the Wood of the Cross. For the characterization of substances found on the surfaces of such relics, a combination of three analytical methods is used to analyze samples. First, FTIR (Fourier transform infrared spectroscopy) can be used to identify a broad range of organic and inorganic materials. This requires only very small samples (a few micrograms) and is non-destructive. The next process is scanning electron microscopy with energy-dispersive X-ray analysis (SEM – EDX), used to explore the microscopic structure and the elemental composition of inorganic materials. Finally, gas chromatography/mass spectrometry (GC/ MS) enables molecules present in complex organic materials such as fats and resins to be characterized, in order to identify the nature of the organic substances present on the surface of a relic. By identifying the types of waxes and oils that came into contact with relics of the Wood, it should be possible to not only understand the origin of these holy substances but also investigate any known pharmacological activity that these may have. This would provide new information on the holy healing that played an important role in the spread of early Christianity. Furthermore, it should be possible to determine relics from the same veneration tradition (e.g. Constantinople), regardless of their date and species.

Isotope analysis for scientific dating and indication of environment Where fragments are large enough, or where a characteristic tree-ring pattern can be identified that relates to a particular climactic event, dendrochronology can be used to provide an approximate or precise date depending on the number of tree rings present, with CT scanning providing the opportunity

236

Georges Kazan and Thomas Higham

to explore tree lines non-invasively. However, given the small size of many relics of the Wood, this cannot at present be employed consistently as a reliable method. Instead, AMS (accelerator mass spectrometry) radiocarbon (14C) dating allows even small wood fragments to be grouped by age. Radiocarbon dating by AMS requires only a microscopic sample of wood (about 5–20 mg) to date a relic of the Wood, sometimes to within a few decades, leaving little trace. Given the longevity of trees, the wood anatomy of a relic should be examined to inform decisions concerning sampling and radiocarbon dating.81 Further to this, stable oxygen 18 (δ18O) and carbon 13 (δ13C) isotope analysis can provide data relevant to broader contemporary environment and climate, whilst the isotopic ratio of radiogenic strontium (δ87Sr/ δ86Sr) can be used to aid in identifying geographic provenance.82 When the authors began this study, only the Titulus Crucis from the Basilica of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme in Rome had been scientifically dated in this way.83 This consists of an irregularly shaped tablet made of walnut wood, approximately 26 centimetres × 14 centimetres × 4 centimetres in size, weighing about 687 grams. The object was found by scientists to be a piece of walnut wood, with a radiocarbon date ranging from between AD 980 to 1146, which would fit with the relic’s first recorded mention in c. 1300 and with the evidence from its medieval seal (from c. 1140) mentioned earlier. The Byzantine relic of the Titulus, discovered with the Wood in the fourth century and described by Egeria in 384, seems to have disappeared after its last mention by the Piacenza Pilgrim in c. 570. On the basis of the radiocarbon date and the lack of other possible sources, it would appear that, if the object was not created as a copy or devotional icon, the only known source would have been the Titulus exposed in Crusader Jerusalem. Radiocarbon dating has also been used to date another holy cross, the wooden core of the Cruz de la Victoria, not a relic of the Wood but an ancient processional cross preserved in the Cathedral of San Salvador de Oviedo.84 According to tradition, this simple oak cross, measuring 92 centimetres × 72 centimetres, was carried into battle at Covadonga in 722 against the Muslim army of Al-Andalus by King Pelagius of Asturias and was later encased in gold and decorated with precious stones by King Alfonso III in 908, becoming the emblem of the Kingdom of Asturias. However, the results demonstrated that the wooden core is in fact contemporary with its ornate casing and dates to the early tenth century. The ninth-century Cruz de los Ángeles, also in Oviedo Cathedral, is not regarded as a relic of the Wood but is considered a relic, said to have been mysteriously crafted by angels for Alfonso II of Asturias (reigned 783 and 791–842). It is made from two 46 centimetre-long pieces of wild cherry wood.85 Both artefacts appear to be royal processional crosses donated to the cathedral, each containing small cavities for precious relics, with the Cruz de la Victoria’s central compartment presumably intended for a tiny piece of the True Cross. These examples suggest that ancient wooden liturgical or processional crosses, which presence the Holy Cross of the Crucifixion in the manner of icons, could, like relics, be considered sacred. In the case of the Cruz de la

The relics of the True Cross

237

Victoria, their wooden core could later be identified with an earlier, revered object. This may explain the origin of some putative relics of the Wood, such as those that, according to this study, are longer than 47 centimetres, significantly wider than 2 centimetres or thicker than 4 millimetres. The Cross of Santo Toribio preserved in Liébana, for example, is the largest known relic of the Wood of the Cross. It measures 63.5 centimetres in length and 39.3 centimetres across and is 3.8 centimetres thick. Its dimensions correspond more closely with those of processional crosses, such as those in Oviedo, than with those of early relics the Wood described earlier. In 1958, a scientific investigation by Madrid’s Forestry Research Institute identified the relic as Mediterranean Cypress wood (Cupressus sempervirens), and as possibly over 2,000 years old. This tree is common in Palestine and, as noted already, its wood is considered to have formed part of the True Cross, specified by the seventh century as the Cross’s upper extremity (although tradition relates that the Liébana relic comes in fact from the left arm of the Cross). The relic is also said to have been brought to Spain in 443 from the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem after the Holy Land was threatened by Persian invasion. However, although Sassanian Persia and Byzantium were regularly in conflict, Jerusalem remained untouched by Persians until its capture, along with the Wood, in 614. The relic is preserved within a 17th-century reliquary and the first written reference to its presence appears in an inventory from 1316. On the basis of the criteria presented earlier and compared with evidence elsewhere, the relic’s historical background, material context, and morphology do not suggest a date earlier than the era of First Crusade. However, such a conclusion must remain hypothetical. Unless the Cross is once again studied scientifically and radiocarbon dating is carried out, its precise chronology will remain a mystery.

Conclusion This preliminary study has applied an interdisciplinary approach to propose a number of conclusions concerning the origins and history of relics of the Wood of the Cross and their use. It suggests that the original relic, found in Jerusalem by the mid-fourth century, probably consisted of a single piece of wood, a little under half a metre in length. Thin slices were taken from this to produce smaller relics, conferred as elite gifts. Its species is unknown, although it reputedly had the appearance of wood from a nut tree. From the mid-sixth century, Constantinople obtained from Apamea a large piece of the Wood, said to have been removed from Jerusalem, and began to issue relics of the Wood in its own right. In 630, the Jerusalem relic of the Wood joined the Apamea Wood in Constantinople. Both were exposed for public veneration and soaked in sanctified balm. These relics were then gradually divided into numerous small, thin strips to allow the original relics to maintain their frontal appearance for as long as possible. Elsewhere, before the Crusades, even the holiest relics of the Wood generally consisted of small fragments, measuring rarely more than a few centimetres in length and a few millimetres in thickness.

238 Georges Kazan and Thomas Higham Following the crusader capture of Jerusalem in 1099, an increasing number of places would claim to possess a part of the city’s prestigious Wood of the Cross, along with the privilege of distributing fragments and producing reliquaries. The number of relics of the Wood in circulation appears to have increased, leading to an increasing number of relics of differing shapes, sizes, and species. The early cult of the Wood within the Eastern Roman Empire seems to have established an artistic and ritual context for its subsequent presentation and veneration. Fragments of the Wood in Byzantine reliquaries, or reliquaries of Byzantine appearance, were popular in the Latin West (especially following Constantinople’s capture by the Fourth Crusade in 1204), perhaps providing a sense of authenticity, given Constantinople’s control of the major relics of the Wood for almost six centuries. This reputation had been largely lost by the time of the city’s final fall to the Ottomans in 1453, while by this time traditions had arisen in the Latin West that Rome had possessed holy relics of the Wood since the time of Constantine. While our understanding of the Wood’s historical and material background continues to be reviewed and developed, it has provided us with a number of criteria, such as the size, shape, and species of Wood of the Cross and the form of its reliquaries, which can be used to create hypothetical assessments of relics of the Wood. In order to test these hypotheses, however, scientific analyses are essential. In addition to a diverse technical expertise, this also requires close collaboration with churches and museums, without whose support such research is not possible. Together, these methods now offer important new information concerning the origin of Christian relics, as well as their role in our history.

Notes 1 See Kazan, “Exploring”. The authors would like to thank Keble College (University of Oxford), for its ongoing support for this and other research undertaken by the Oxford Relics Cluster, as well as the Oxford University Press John Fell Fund and the Turku Institute for Advanced Studies for funding this research. 2 The public transfer and handling was problematic, at least initially, since this remained officially illegal in Roman law. See Les lois religieuses, 172–4; Corpus Iuris Civilis, 12, 148. 3 Augustinus, “De Opere Monachorum”, col. 575. 4 Calvin, Traitté des reliques, 22, compares the amount of the Wood of the Cross in circulation with the load of a great ship; Kippingi, Liber singularis, 232, claims that the volume of the Wood in circulation could have raised enough crosses to crucify 300 men. 5 Gretseri, De Cruce Christi; Rohault, Mémoire; Frolow, La relique, and Frolow, Les reliquaires. 6 Eusebius, “Vita Constantini”, 96. 7 It seems there was a shortage of wood suitable for construction in Jerusalem and that this was regularly reused. Zias and Sekeles, “The Crucified Man”, 26–7. 8 Cyrillus, “Catecheses”. See Drijvers, Cyril of Jerusalem, 56–8. 9 See Duval, Loca Sanctorum Africae, 331–7.

The relics of the True Cross

239

10 Egeria, Egeria’s Travels, 171–3. First surviving mention: Ambrosius, “De Obitu Theodosii Oratio”. The legend is said to feature in a lost work by Gelasius, Bishop of Caesarea (367–73, 379–95) and nephew of Cyril of Jerusalem, to whom the legend is sometimes connected. For a summary and discussion of the sources, see Maraval, Lieux saints, 97, 234–5, 253, and Cronnier, Les inventions de reliques, 125, n. 3. 11 Cf. Paulinus, Sancti Pontii Meropii Paulini, 267–8. 12 Procopius, History of the Wars, 354–9, and Evagrius, “Ecclesiasticæ Historiæ”. 13 Michael, Chronique, 284–5. 14 Justin II presented the Frankish queen and nun, Radegunda, with a portion of the Wood in 569, which she received in a highly publicized ceremony (see Venantius, “Hymnus”), and gave another relic to the Church of Rome, the Crux Vaticana, which survives today in the Treasury of St Peter’s Basilica. 15 Georgius, Ioannis Scylitzae Ope, 685. The two references have been interpreted as referring to the same event (Maraval, Lieux saints, 346). The sources for the 565 and 574 translations were both composed a few centuries later but record other events (e.g. solar eclipses) accurately. In view of this, the fact that the Apamea tradition subsequently disappears, and based on descriptions of the relics in Constantinople (see “Morphology”), we propose that the Apamea relic was removed in two stages. 16 Nikephoros, Short History, 67. 17 Ibid., 66–7. A Constantinopolitan source, the Chronicon Paschale, c. 614, records the exaltation of the Wood of the Cross in Constantinople on 14 September. While the year given appears to be 614, later in the entry for the same year the exaltation of the Holy Lance is described as taking place on Sunday, 28 October. This date fits the year 630, and not 614. This record therefore supports Patriarch Nicephorus’s account that the relic was returned to the capital directly after its exaltation in Jerusalem on 21 March 630. 18 The legend recounted in the Liber Pontificalis, in which Constantine presented to Rome’s Sessorian basilica (Santa Croce in Gerusalemme) a portion of the True Cross mounted in gold and gems, does not seem to have made a noticeable impression on other sources from the period and is considered by scholars as probably anachronistic. Le Liber Pontificalis, 179, and Drijvers, “Helena Augusta”, 144–6. 19 Le Liber Pontificalis, 242, 261. 20 Avitus, “Epistolæ” [expresses his thanks to the Patriarch of Jerusalem]. 21 Ó Carragáin, “Interactions”, 186. 22 Le Liber Pontificalis, 374. The gemmed cross in which it was found, now lost, is believed to be that found in the early 20th century inside a silver Carolingian casket within the altar of the Chapel of St Laurence, containing a modest fragment of the Wood inside a central cavity filled with balm. See Thunø, Image and Relic, 17–21; Jensen, The Cross, 112–14. 23 Exuviæ Sacræ Constantinopolitanæ, 56, and Regesta Pontificum Romanorum, 199, no. 2318. Examples in Italy include the staurotheke of Emperor Nicephorus II Phocas (963–9) at the church of S. Francesco in Cortona, the Byzantine triptych (late tenth–early 11th century) in the Museo Diocesano of Monopoli, and the Byzantine staurotheke (11th or 12th century) at the Abbey of Nonantola. 24 Frankopan, The First Crusade, 106. 25 The authors would like to thank Fr. Patrice Gourrier (Poitiers) for his role in developing this hypothesis (personal conversation). 26 Frankopan, The First Crusade, 101, 111. For a critique, see Harris, “Byzantium”. 27 Albert, Historia Ierosolimitana, 450–3, and Raymond, Historia Francorum, 154. 28 Petrus, “Liber de locis sanctis”, 93. Cf. Egeria, “Itinerarium Egeriae”, 80–1. The Byzantine tradition of carrying relics of the Wood into battle is first recorded by the early seventh century: see below, n. 47.

240 Georges Kazan and Thomas Higham 29 Sturlason, Heimskringla, 612. In 1118, King Henry I of England requested relics of the True Cross from Constantinople, not Jerusalem: see the Aldgate Chronicle, London Guildhall MS 122, IV, f. 16. 30 Vitry, Lettres, 124–5. 31 See Majeska, Russian Travelers. 32 Klein, “Eastern Objects”, 312–14. 33 Drijvers, “Helena Augusta”, 145. 34 Infessura, Diario, 270. 35 See n. 33. 36 Jerusalem (gold and silver): Egeria, “Itinerarium Egeriae”, 80–1; (silver): see sources in n. 10. Apamea (wooden chest adorned with gold and gems): Procopius, History of the Wars, 354–7. Constantinople (wooden casket, inside an ornate chest): Adomnanus, “De locis sanctis”, 228–9. 37 A sixth-century source relates that Constantine gave a relic of the Wood to the bishop of Constantinople inside a gold theke (Alexander, “Historicum encomium”, cols. 4080–1). In the Latin West, a cuboid form was also used for portable altars and altar stones from the tenth century. Some contained relics of the Wood (e.g. the portable altar of Countess Gertrude, Cleveland Art Museum (USA): Ottonian, c. 1045). By the 13th century, relics of the Wood could also be enclosed in reliquary crowns, such as the Couronne de Liège, now in the Paris Louvre (Liège, 1250–75). Neither form of reliquary was associated with the Wood of the Cross in particular. See Kazan, “Entre l’histoire”, 11, 17, n. 53. 38 Le Liber Pontificalis, 176, 178. Cf. n. 18. 39 Drijvers, “Helena Augusta”, 147. 40 Cf. Eusebius, “Vita Constantini”, 98, and Le Liber Pontificalis, 176, 178. 41 Cotsonis, Byzantine, 8–11, and Klein, “Constantine, Helena”, 36. 42 Theodoros, 13. 43 See n. 19. 44 “Vie grecque”, 302–3. 45 Baudonivia, “De Vita Sanctae Radegundis”, 388. A tradition that survives among the community of nuns founded by Radegunda identifies the upper part of the relic that they preserve today, inside an 11th-century Byzantine reliquary, as the relic received from Justin II. This is supported by its form – a Greek cross with arms of equal length, measuring approximately 2 centimetres across – which matches the size and shape of the Wood in the Crux Vaticana. 46 Gregory, S. Gregorii Magni, 810; Vie de Théodore, CXXVIII. 47 Simocatta, Theophylacti Simocattae Historiae, 73–4. 48 Examples consist of the ninth-century Beresford Hope Cross pendant (Victoria & Albert Museum, London), the cruciform reliquary casket of Pope Paschal I (817–24) in (Musei Vaticani, Rome) and the early ninth-century, oblong Fieschi Morgan staurotheke (Metropolitan Museum of New York). 49 Krueger, “The Religion of Relics”, 12–13. 50 For a miniature, staurotheke-type silver reliquary from Jabulkovo, Bulgaria (Constantinople or Asia Minor, AD 350–400), see Minchev, Early Christian Reliquaries, 37, no. 25. 51 For a ring containing a relic of the cross, see Gregorius, “Vita S. Macrinæ Virginis”, col. 989. For the use of encolpia, see Joannes, “Adversus Judæos et Gentiles”, col. 826. 52 Constantinople: Dumbarton Oaks (Inv. Nr. 53.12.22): Ross, Catalogue of the Byzantine, 23, no. 17; Rome: Musei Vaticani (Inv. Nr. M.S. 1101): Byzanz, 31; Jerusalem: Israel Museum (Inv. Nr. IAA 1997–9004): Israeli and Mevorah, Cradle of Christianity, 140. 53 Gregory, S. Gregorii Magni, 1082–3.

The relics of the True Cross

241

54 Les Actes des Patriarches, 39–40, no. 382, 147, no. 554. Text reproduced in Klein, “Eastern Objects”, 292, n. 52 and n. 54. 55 Frolow, La relique, 86. 56 Produced between 1154 and 1158, the Stavelot Triptych (J.P. Morgan Collection, New York), holds two smaller Byzantine triptychs and is the earliest known reliquary of this form made in the Latin West. See Baert, A Heritage, 80–2. 57 For example, the Triptyque de la Sainte Croix, produced 1160–70 (Grand Curtius Museum, Liège). See Klein, “Eastern Objects”, 290–1, and Kazan, “Entre l’histoire”, 13–15. 58 See “Annales Fuldenses”, 384. Klein, “Eastern Objects”, 293, suggests that the so-called Talisman of Charlemagne, sometimes identified as the Byzantine reliquary of the Wood given by Emperor Basil I in 872, may in fact be a Western imitation of an Eastern product. Scientific analyses may help to resolve this issue. 59 Adomnanus, “De locis sanctis”, 228–9. 60 Pitarakis, Les croix-reliquaires, 109–19, 203. 61 Drijvers, “Helena Augusta”, 28. 62 Egeria, “Itinerarium Egeriae”, 80–1. 63 Paulinus, Sancti Pontii Meropii Paulini, 274. 64 It is impossible to equate the Apamea relic instead with the Titulus since this is recorded by the Piacenza Pilgrim as still being present in Jerusalem in c. 570. Antoninus, “Itinerarium”, 139. Rufinus, “Historiæ Ecclesiasticæ”, cols. 476–8, mentions in c. 397 the existence of more than one silver reliquary of the Wood in Jerusalem. This suggests that a second piece may have existed in the fourth century, either a part of the main relic or with a separate origin, which may have been that taken to Apamea. 65 Adomnanus, “De locis sanctis”, 228–9: “Sed et hoc non negligenter intuendum quod non duo, sed tria ibidem instar crucis habeantur brevia ligna, hoc est transversum lignum, et longum, incisum et in duas aequas divisum partes”. 66 Rohault, Mémoire, 59, 71–4, 162–3. 67 For example, the Cross of Constantine VII and Romanos II, now in Limburg Cathedral, mentioned earlier. 68 Joannes, “In pretiosæ vitalisque crucis”, col. 839. 69 Bedæ, “De Cruce Domini”, cols. 555–6. 70 Antoninus, “Itinerarium”, 139. 71 Lipsi, De Cruce, 157. 72 Rohault, Mémoire, 62. 73 Haas, “Anthropological Observations”, 56. 74 Zias and Sekeles, “The Crucified Man”, 24. 75 See n. 64. 76 The oak is identified as the original gift of Justin II to Poitiers. See n. 45. 77 Antoninus, “Itinerarium”, 139. 78 See Vikan, Byzantine Pilgrimage Art, and Filipová, “The Memory of Monza’s”. 79 Adomnanus, “De locis sanctis”, 228–9. 80 John, “Account of the Way”, 83. 81 For the radiocarbon dating of wood, see Palincaş, “Radiocarbon Dating”. 82 Rich, Manning, Degryse, Vanhaecke, and Van Lerberghe, “Provenancing East Mediterranean”. 83 Bella and Azzi, “14C Dating”. Radiocarbon age = 1020 ± 30 BP. Calendar age = AD 996–1023 (1 σ) AD 980–1146 (2 σ), calculated using the INTCAL98 program (Stuiver, Reimer, Bard, Beck, Burr, Hughen, Kromer, McCormac, van der Plicht, and Spurk, “IntCal98 radiocarbon”). 84 García de Castro, Signvm, 157–65; García and Muñiz, Arqueología medieval, 49. 85 Arbeiter, “72. The Cross”.

242 Georges Kazan and Thomas Higham

Sources and bibliography Les Actes des Patriarches: Les Regestes de 715 à 1206, edited by V. Grumel, and J. Darrouzès. Les Regestes des Actes du Patriarcat de Constantinople 1.2–3. Leuven: Peeters Publishers, 1989. Adomnanus. “De locis sanctis”, edited by L. Bieler. In Itineraria et alia geographica. Vol. 1: Itineraria Hierosolymitana. Itineraria Romana. Geographica, edited by P. Geyer, O. Cuntz, A. Francheschini, R. Weber, L. Bieler, J. Fraipont, and F. Glorie, 183–234. Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina 175. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1965. Albert of Aachen. Historia Ierosolimitana: History of the Journey to Jerusalem, edited and translated by S.B. Edgington. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Aldgate Chronicle, London Guildhall MS 122, IV, f. 16. Alexander monachus. “Historicum encomium de inventione pretiosæ et vivificæ crucis”. In Patrologia Graeca, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 87.3, cols. 4077–88. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1865. Ambrosius, Mediolanensis Episcopi. “De Obitu Theodosii Oratio”. In Patrologia Latina, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 16, cols. 1401–2. Paris: Vrayet, 1845. “Annales Fuldenses”. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptorum, edited by G.H. Pertz. Vol. 1, 337–415. Hannover: Impensis Bibliopolii Aulici Hahniani, 1826. Antoninus Placentinus. “Itinerarium”. In Jerusalem Pilgrims before the Crusades, edited and translated by J. Wilkinson, 129–51. Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 2002. Arbeiter, A. “72. The Cross of the Angels”. In The Art of Medieval Spain, A.D. 500– 1200, 146–8. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1993. Augustinus, Hipponensis Episcopus. “De Opere Monachorum”. In Patrologia Latina, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 40, col. 575. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1841. Avitus, Episcopus Viennensis. “Epistolæ”. In Patrologia Latina, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 59, cols. 236, 239–40. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1862. Baert, B. A Heritage of Holy Wood: The Legend of the True Cross in Text and Image, translated by L. Preedy. Cultures, Beliefs, and Traditions 22. Leiden: Koninklijke Brill NV, 2004. Baudonivia Pictaviensis. “De Vita Sanctae Radegundis”. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptorum Rerum Merovingicarum. Vol. 2, edited by B. Krusch, 358– 95. Hannover: Impensis Bibliopolii Hahniani, 1888. Bedæ Venerabilis. “De Cruce Domini”. In Patrologia Latina, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 94, cols. 555–6. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1862. Bella, F., and C. Azzi. “14C Dating of the ‘Titulus Crucis’”. Radiocarbon 44, no. 3 (2002): 685–9. Brandt, M., and A. Effenberger, eds. Byzanz – Die Macht der Bilder: Katalog zur Ausstellung im Dom-Museum Hildesheim. Berlin: Staatliche Museen zu BerlinPreußischer Kulturbesitz und Herzog Anton Ulrich-Museum Braunschweig, 1998. Calvin, I. Traitté des reliques. Geneva: Pierre de la Roviere, 1599. Chronicon Paschale, edited by L. Dindorfius. Vol. 1. Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae. Bonn: Impensis Ed. Weberi, 1832. Corpus Iuris Civilis. Vol. 2: Codex Iustinianus, edited by P. Krueger. Berlin: Weidmannos, 1877. Cotsonis, J.A. Byzantine Figural Processional Crosses, edited by S.A. Boyd, and H. Maguire. Dumbarton Oaks Byzantine Collection Publications 10. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, Trustees of Harvard University, 1994.

The relics of the True Cross

243

Cronnier, E. Les inventions de reliques dans l’Empire romain d’Orient (IVe-VIe s.). Hagiologia 11. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2015. Cyrillus, Hierosolymitanus Archiepiscopus. “Catecheses”. In Patrologia Graeca, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 33, cols. 467–70, 685–7, 777. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1857. Drijvers, J.W. Cyril of Jerusalem: Bishop and City. Leiden: Koninklijke Brill NV, 2004. Drijvers, J.W. “Helena Augusta, the Cross and the Myth: Some New Reflections”. Millennium: Jahrbuch zu Kultur und Geschichte der ersten Jahrtausends n. Chr./ Yearbook on the Culture and History of the First Millennium C.E. 8 (2011): 125–74. Duval, Y. Loca Sanctorum Africae: le culte des martyrs en Afrique du IVe au VIIe siècle. Vol. 1. Collection de l’École Française de Rome 58. Roma: École Française de Rome, 1982. Egeria. Egeria’s Travels, edited and translated by J. Wilkinson. Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 1999. Egeria. “Itinerarium Egeriae seu Peregrinatio ad loca sancta”, edited by P. Geyer, and O. Cuntz. In Itineraria et alia geographica. Vol. 1: Itineraria Hierosolymitana. Itineraria Romana. Geographica, edited by P. Geyer, O. Cuntz, A. Francheschini, R. Weber, L. Bieler, J. Fraipont, and F. Glorie, 37–90. Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina 175. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1965. Eusebius. “Vita Constantini”. In Eusebius Werke, edited by F. Winkelmann. Vol. 1.1: Über das Leben des Kaisers Konstantin. Die Griechischen Christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten Jahrhunderte 7. Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1975. Evagrius Scholasticus. “Ecclesiasticæ Historiæ”. In Patrologia Graeca, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 86.2, cols. 2743–6. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1865. Exuviæ Sacræ Constantinopolitanæ: Fasciculus documentorum ecclesiasticorum, ad byzantina lipsana in Occidentem sæculo XIIIº translata, spectantium, & Historiam quarti belli sacri imperijq; gallo-græci illustrantium, edited by P.E.D. Riant. Vol. 2. Geneva: Typis I. G. Fick, 1878. Filipová, A. “The Memory of Monza’s Holy Land Ampullae: From Reliquary to Relic, or There and Back Again”. In Objects of Memory, Memory of Objects: The Artworks as a Vehicle of the Past in the Middle Ages, edited by A. Filipová, Z. Frantová, and F. Lovino, 10–25. Brno: Masarykova Univerzita, 2014. Frankopan, P. The First Crusade: The Call from the East. Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2012. Frolow, A. Les reliquaires de la Vraie Croix. Archives de l’Orient Chrétien 8. Paris: Institut Français d’Études Byzantines, 1965. Frolow, A. La relique de la Vraie Croix: recherches sur le développement d’un culte. Archives de l’Orient Chrétien 7. Paris: Institut Français d’Études Byzantines, 1961. García Álvarez-Busto, A., and I. Muñiz López. Arqueología medieval en Asturias. Gijón: Ediciones Trea, 2010. García de Castro Valdés, C. Signvm salvtis: cruces de orfebrería de los siglos V al XII. Oviedo: Principado de Asturias, KRK Ediciones, 2008. Georgius Cedrenus. Ioannis Scylitzae Ope, edited by I. Bekkero. Vol. 1. Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae. Bonn: Impensis Ed. Weberi, 1838. Gregorius, Nyssenus Episcopus. “Vita S. Macrinæ Virginis, sororis Basilii Magni”. In Patrologia Graeca, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 46, cols. 959–1000. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1863. Gregory I, Pope. S. Gregorii Magni Registrum Epistularum, edited by D. Norberg. Vol. 2: Libri VIII-XIV, Appendix. Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina 140A. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1982.

244 Georges Kazan and Thomas Higham Gretseri, I. De Cruce Christi. Ingolstadt: Ex Typographia Adami Sartorii, 1598–1605. Haas, N. “Anthropological Observations on the Skeletal Remains from Giv’at haMivtar”. Israel Exploration Journal 20, no. 1–2 (1970): 38–59. Harris, J. “Byzantium and the First Crusade: Three Avenues of Approach”. Estudios bizantinos 2 (2014): 125–41. Infessura, S. Diario della città di Roma, edited by O. Tommasini. Fonti per la Storia d’Italia, Scrittori Secolo XV 5. Roma: Forzani e C. Tipografi del Senato, 1890. Israeli, Y., and D. Mevorah, eds. Cradle of Christianity. Jerusalem: The Israel Museum, 2000. Jensen, R.M. The Cross: History, Art, and Controversy. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2017. Joannes Chrysostomus. “Adversus Judæos et Gentiles demonstratio, quod Christus sit Deus”. In Patrologia Graeca, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 48, cols. 813–38. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1862. Joannes Chrysostomus. “In pretiosæ vitalisque crucis adorationem”. In Patrologia Graeca, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 52, cols. 835–40. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1862. John Rufus. “Account of the Way of Life of the Holy Peter the Iberian, Bishop, Approved Confessor, and Ascetic of Our Lord”. In John Rufus: The Lives of Peter the Iberian, Theodosius of Jerusalem, and the Monk Romanus, edited and translated by C.B. Horn, and R.R. Phenix, 1–281. Writings from the Greco-Roman World 24. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2008. Kazan, G. “Entre l’histoire et la science: le bois de la Croix après l’an mil”. Bulletin trimestriel du Trésor de Liège 57 (2018): 7–17. Kazan, G. “Exploring the Past through Relics: The Oxford Relics Research Cluster”. Material Religion 14, no. 4 (2018): 570–2. Kippingi, H. Liber singularis de cruce et cruciariis. Bremen: Jacobi Köhleri, 1671. Klein, H.A. “Constantine, Helena, and the Cult of the True Cross in Constantinople”. In Byzance et les reliques du Christ, edited by J. Durand, and B. Flusin, 31–59. Centre de Recherche d’Histoire et Civilisation de Byzance, Monographies 17. Paris: Association des Amis du Centre d’Histoire et Civilisation de Byzance, 2004. Klein, H.A. “Eastern Objects and Western Desires: Relics and Reliquaries between Byzantium and the West”. Dumbarton Oaks Papers 58 (2004): 283–314. Krueger, D. “The Religion of Relics in Late Antiquity and Byzantium”. In Treasures of Heaven: Saints, Relics, and Devotion in Medieval Europe, edited by M. Bagnoli, H.A. Klein, C.G. Mann, and J. Robinson, 5–17. London: British Museum Press, 2010. Le Liber Pontificalis, edited and translated by L. Duchesne. Vol. 1. Paris: Ernest Thorin, 1886. Lipsi, I. De Cruce. Vol. 3. Antwerp: Ex Officina Plantiniana, 1594. Les lois religieuses des empereurs romains de Constantin à Théodose II. Vol. 1: Code Théodosien Livre XVI, edited by T. Mommsen and translated by J. Rougé. Sources Chrétiennes 497. Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 2005. Majeska, G.P. Russian Travelers to Constantinople in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, Trustees for Harvard University, 1984. Maraval, P. Lieux saints et pèlerinages d’Orient: histoire et géographie des origines à la conquête arabe. Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1985. Michael I, the Syrian. Chronique de Michel le Syrien, Patriarche Jacobite d’Antioche (1166–1199), edited and translated by J.-B. Chabot. Vol. 1. Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1899.

The relics of the True Cross

245

Minchev, A. Early Christian Reliquaries from Bulgaria (4th-6th Century AD). Varna: Varna Regional Museum of History, Stalker, 2003. Nikephoros, Patriarch of Constantinople. Short History, edited and translated by C. Mango. Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae 13. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, Trustees for Harvard University, 1990. Ó Carragáin, E. “Interactions between Liturgy and Politics in Old Saint Peter’s, 670– 741: John the Archcantor, Sergius I and Gregory III”. In Old Saint Peter’s, Rome, edited by R. McKitterick, J. Osborne, C.M. Richardson, and J. Story, 177–89. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013. Palincaş, N. “Radiocarbon Dating in Archaeology: Interdisciplinary Aspects and Consequences (An Overview)”. American Institute of Physics [AIP] Conference Proceedings 1852, 060006, 2017. Accessed 16 September 2019. https://aip.scita tion.org/doi/abs/10.1063/1.4984870. Paulinus of Nola. Sancti Pontii Meropii Paulini Nolani Epistulae, edited by G. de Hartel. Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum. Vol. 29: S. Pontii Meropii Paulini Nolani Opera. Vienna: Academiae Litterarum Caesareae Vindobonensis, 1894. Petrus Diaconus. “Liber de locis sanctis”, edited by R. Weber. In Itineraria et alia geographica. Vol. 1: Itineraria Hierosolymitana. Itineraria Romana. Geographica, edited by P. Geyer, O. Cuntz, A. Francheschini, R. Weber, L. Bieler, J. Fraipont, and F. Glorie, 93–103. Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina 175. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1965. Pitarakis, B. Les croix-reliquaires pectorales byzantines en bronze. Bibliothèque des Cahiers Archéologiques 16. Paris: Éditions A. et J. Picard, 2006. Procopius. History of the Wars, Books I and II, edited and translated by H.B. Dewing. Vol 1: The Persian War. The Loeb Classical Library 48. London: William Heinemann; New York: The Macmillan Co., 1914. Raymond d’Aguilers. Historia Francorum Qui Ceperunt Iherusalem, translated by J.H. Hill, and L.L. Hill. Philadelphia: The American Philosophical Society, 1968. Regesta Pontificum Romanorum inde ab a. post Christum natum MCXCVIII ad a. MCCCIV, edited by A. Potthast. Vol. 1. Berlin: Rudolphi de Decker, 1874. Rich, S., S.W. Manning, P. Degryse, F. Vanhaecke, and K. Van Lerberghe. “Provenancing East Mediterranean Cedar Wood with the 87Sr/86Sr Strontium Isotope Ratio”. Archaeological and Anthropological Sciences 8, no. 3 (2016): 467–76. Rohault de Fleury, C. Mémoire sur les instruments de la Passion de N.-S. J.-C. Paris: Librairie Liturgique-Catholique, 1870. Ross, M.C. Catalogue of the Byzantine and Early Mediaeval Antiquities in the Dumbarton Oaks Collection. Vol. 2: Jewelry, Enamels, and Art of the Migration Period. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, Trustees for Harvard University, 1965. Rufinus. “Historiæ Ecclesiasticæ”. In Patrologia Latina, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 21, cols. 461–540. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1849. Simocatta, T. Theophylacti Simocattae Historiae, edited by C. de Boor. Stuttgart: Teubner, 1972. Stuiver, M., P.J. Reimer, E. Bard, J.W. Beck, G.S. Burr, K.A. Hughen, B. Kromer, G. McCormac, J. van der Plicht, and M. Spurk. “IntCal98 Radiocarbon Age Calibration, 24,000–0 Cal BP”. Radiocarbon 40, no. 3 (1998): 1041–83. Sturlason, S. Heimskringla or the Lives of the Norse Kings, edited by E. Monsen and translated by A.H. Smith. New York: Dover Publications, 1990. Theodoros Anagnostes Kirchengeschichte, edited by G.C. Hansen. Die Griechischen Christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten Jahrhunderte 3. Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1971.

246 Georges Kazan and Thomas Higham Thunø, E. Image and Relic: Mediating the Sacred in Early Medieval Rome. Analecta Romana Instituti Danici Supplementum 32. Rome: “L’Erma” di Bretschneider, 2002. Venantius Fortunatus. “Hymnus in Honorem Sanctæ Crucis”. In Patrologia Latina, edited by J.-P. Migne. Vol. 88, cols. 95–6. Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1862. Vie de Théodore de Sykéôn, edited and translated by A.-J. Festugière. Vol. 1. Subsidia Hagiographica 48. Bruxelles: Société des Bollandistes, 1970. “Vie grecque de sainte Marthe mère de Syméon”. In La vie ancienne de S. Syméon Stylite le Jeune (521–592), edited by P. van den Ven. Vol. 2, 296–312. Subsidia Hagiographica 32. Bruxelles: Société des Bollandistes, 1970. Vikan, G. Byzantine Pilgrimage Art. Dumbarton Oaks Byzantine Collection 5. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, Trustees for Harvard University, 1982. Vitry, J. de. Lettres de Jacques de Vitry (1160/1170–1240), évêque de Saint-Jean d’Acre, edited by R.B.C. Huygens. Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1960. Zias, J., and E. Sekeles. “The Crucified Man from Giv’at ha-Mivtar: A Reappraisal”. Israel Exploration Journal 35, no. 1 (1985): 22–7.

13 The relics of St John in the monastery on the island of Sveti Ivan near Sozopol, Bulgaria Archaeological and scientific research Kazimir Popkonstantinov and Rossina Kostova Monastery of St John on the island of Sveti Ivan: historical evidence The monastery of St John the Forerunner on the island of Sveti Ivan is perhaps the best documented of all the medieval monasteries along the west coast of the Black Sea among historical sources. It is situated to the south of the island of Sveti Ivan (broadly translated as the Island of St John), approximately one mile northwest of Sozopol (ancient Apollonia, medieval Sozopolis). The monastic complex covered an area of 0.5 hectares on a terrace overlooking the bay of Sozopol. The island itself is mentioned under the name of Sangioanne in a Catalan portolan dating from the 14th century and Hagios Ioannes in 16th-century Greek copies of a Venetian portolan from the 15th century.1 The earliest written evidence for the monastery dates to the mid-13th century. According to the Byzantine poet Manuel Philes, Michael Glabas Tarchaniotes restored and adorned the “monastery of the Prodromos” in AD 1262 on the island of “Nesion”, after finding it in a wretched state with only six monks residing in it, during his victorious raid along the coast between Agathopolis (modern-day Ahtopol) and Mesembria (modern-day Nessebar).2 With respect to later events concerning the monastery and recorded in the sources, however, it seems more plausible that the monastery was not restored during that raid but some 30 years later. More precisely, it may have been during the period spent by konostaulos Michael Glabas in Sozopolis and the region on the order of the emperor Andronikos II Palaiologos (1282–1328). According to George Pachymeres, by that time, Michael Glabas had visited Kosmas there, who was a native of Sozopolis and a monk living on “an island”. It seems quite plausible that this was the island where “the monastery of the Prodromos” was situated, thus falling under the care of the Byzantine dignitary.3 The same Kosmas later became a patriarch of Constantinople under the name of John XII Kosmas (1294–1303), also as a result of Michael Glabas’s recommendation. After leaving the Patriarchal see in Constantinople in AD 1303, Kosmas returned to Sozopolis and most likely retired to the island monastery.4

248

Kazimir Popkonstantinov & Rossina Kostova

Two Byzantine imperial charters dated to AD 1363 and 1437 and ten charters issued by the Patriarchal chancellery in Constantinople from AD 1482 to 1626 confirm the privileges of the island monastery as a stauropegial monastery (subordinated directly to a patriarch) and provide evidence for the considerable monastic and secular property run by the monastic community in Sozopolis and its vicinity. The monastery survived until AD 1629 when the monks moved to the island of Chalke near Constantinople in the Sea of Marmara due to pressure from the Ottoman Turks, who were aware that the island monastery served as a shelter for Cossacks-pirates.5 In addition to its well-documented history as an imperial and patriarchal monastery, “St John the Forerunner” on the island of Sveti Ivan became known for its library and scriptorium. Sixty codices from the monastic library are known to have survived, with 40 of these kept in the Ecumenical Patriarchate on the island of Chalke, where they were brought by the expelled monks in AD 1629. The codices include liturgical books and writings of the Church fathers, all of them written in Greek. The earliest manuscripts dated from the 12th to the mid-15th century and had been copied from elsewhere, as evidenced by the scribal notes, while the majority of the books dated from the mid-15th century to the early 17th century and had been copied in the scriptorium of the monastery itself.6

Archaeological evidence The monastery of St John the Forerunner on the island of Sveti Ivan is one of the rare cases in which written evidence matches an actual site.7 Several archaeological campaigns have established that the earliest church built there was a tri-aisle basilica with a three-apse sanctuary (15.50 × 15.00 m). The aisles were divided by means of tile pillars.8 The basilica was destroyed by fire, the traces of which may be seen on the nave floor. Soon after the destruction, another tri-aisle basilica with a single apse sanctuary (17.20 × 10 m) was built over the remains of the first one.9 The analysis of the soil samples taken from the floor levels of the sanctuaries of the two churches shows identical elements in their composition, which implies that the time period prior to the construction of the second basilica was no longer than 50–60 years.10 The relative chronology of the appearance of the two churches may be placed to sometime between the fourth and the late sixth century. The later basilica itself had undergone three major periods of reconstruction by the first quarter of the 17th century. There is no evidence of a permanent settlement on the island, and it seems likely that a monastic community cared for the Early Byzantine churches, to have appeared one after the other. A sector of a surrounding wall excavated 3 metres to the east of the presbyterium of the earliest basilica further supports this notion. The second church in the complex provides an outstanding example of a triconch, with the dome supported by pilasters built in the corners of the

The relics of St John in Bulgaria

249

nave. The side bays of the narthex terminated to the east into brick-vaulted semicircular niches and apparently functioned as chapels. The walls of the nave and the narthex survived to a considerable height of 2 to 3 metres, perfectly demonstrating the building technique of alternating bands of stones and bricks with the use of wooden beams in the wall cores. The masonry and the exterior decoration date the construction of the church to the late 13th or early 14th century, no doubt meaning it served as the main church of the monastery of St John the Forerunner during its restoration by Michael Glabas Tarchaniotes in the late 13th century.11 Two bronze punches for the decorative stamping of the leather cover of the codices were found in one room, while bronze book hasps were found in all of the rooms.12 The main elements of the monastery unearthed so far are the surrounding wall with its northwestern gate, the cells along its western, northern, and eastern sections and a number of buildings to the south of the churches, such as a refectory, kitchen, a large baking oven, a luxurious building, and a deep cistern. Thanks to the archaeological excavations, we are also able to identify the scriptorium. These are three rooms (3.10 × 2.80 m each in size) arranged along the north wall to the west of the gate that housed the final stage of the book production, the banding of the codices. The visible remains of the scriptorium as well as of the buildings mentioned earlier belonged to the final period of activity in the monastery between the 15th and the first quarter of the 17th centuries. The most recent archaeological excavations have, however, revealed foundations preceding the latest monastic buildings in the southern part of the monastery. Further research will be required to establish the earlier medieval and perhaps Early Byzantine plan of the monastery.13

The social context of the monastery: archaeological data Perhaps the most illustrative archaeological evidence for the social profile of the monastic community and laymen closely related to it is provided by the burial structures. The latest archaeological campaign revealed the tombs of two young men buried in the western gallery of the medieval triconch. One of them, who, according to anthropological analysis died age 20–25, was buried with his boots with stirrups and a tiny glass bottle (lacrimarium) in his right hand. The burial place of honour provided to these two men indicates that they must have been highly respected by the monks, perhaps as they donated to the monastery after its restoration in the late 13th century.14 Archaeological excavations in the last five years have brought to light very valuable evidence as to the function of the monastery prior to the restoration attempted by Michael Glabas Tarchaniotes in the second half of the 13th century. These are two Byzantine seals: one of them is anonymous and bears the images of St George and St Theodore, while the other belonged to one of the greatest imperial monasteries in Constantinople, the monastery of

250

Kazimir Popkonstantinov & Rossina Kostova

Christ Philanthropos founded by empress Irene Doukaina, wife of Alexios I Komnenos (1018–1118), in the early 12th century.15 Thus, while the anonymous seal can only be relatively dated to the 12th century, the seal of the monastery of Christ Philanthropos is definitively dated to the 12th century, as shown by the other four similar seals known so far.16 Therefore, despite the lack of written sources and significant archaeological material from the 12th century, the seal of the Constantinopolitan imperial monastery of Christ Philanthropos inevitably demonstrates the fact that by that time, the island monastery of St John the Forerunner was active and well known to the Constantinopolitan monastic correspondent network. The coin finds may also be interpreted with respect to the monastery’s periods of prosperity.17 The latest archaeological campaign held from 2008 until 2015 unearthed coins mostly from the 13th–14th century (24) and Ottoman coins from the late 14th–16th century (15). One must note the significant number of coins from the Early Byzantine period (nine), five of which are dated to the fourth–fifth century, when the first basilica was constructed on the island. The earliest coins, however, date to the Hellenistic period of the fourth to first century BC, prompting the critical question as to why a Christian monastery was built so early on this uninhabited island.18 Hellenistic coins and fragments of Hellenistic pottery have in fact been found in the layers beneath the southern part of the medieval triconch church and the northern part of the two consecutive Early Byzantine basilicas where foundations of a large earlier building have been attested. It seems plausible that these foundations belonged to a Hellenistic temple. The large spolia reused in the western wall of the basilica further support such a hypothesis. As for the dedication, it is tempting to suggest that the temple served the cult of Apollo, the patron of the port city in the vicinity of which the island is situated.19 Such a claim requires further evidence, although is supported by the fact that the patron saint of the monastery was St John the Forerunner, a major religious figure significant enough to replace the highly popular cult of Apollo.

The reliquaries In 2010, we made soundings in the sanctuaries of the two consecutive Early Byzantine basilicas. The first of these coincided with the spot where the tile pillar supporting mensa sacra in the later basilica was once fixed. The pillar is situated 2.3 metres to the west of the centre of the presbyterium apse. After moving the two brick coursers to have remained of the pillar at a depth of 0.2 metres from the church floor, we found a reliquary sealed with white mortar inside a tile casket (0.30 × 0.24 m). After recording the archaeological context and situation on the spot, we carefully transferred the casket with the reliquary from the island to the Archaeological Museum in Sozopol. Three days later, and in the presence of a committee assigned by the Ministry of Culture, we opened the

The relics of St John in Bulgaria

251

tile casket, pulled out the reliquary and carefully opened it. Inside, we found nine pieces of bone. The reliquary itself is shaped like a small, ancient sarcophagus (length 20.5 cm; width 12.5 cm; height 14.5 cm) with a two-sided sloping movable lid with four small acroteria at the corners and a low ellipse-shaped recess in the middle of the ridge. The body is rectangular, with a notch to slide in the lid (See Figure 13.1). There is a small hole (4.5 × 1.8 cm) in the lid made from the outside, with the fake found inside the reliquary. The hole was sealed with pinkish mortar plastered from the outside. The fact that the white mortar covers this spot indicates that the hole was made and sealed prior to the placement of the reliquary inside the tile casket.20 The shape of the reliquary is comparable to a number of marble reliquaries found in Bulgaria, such as those from the village of Prekolnitsa, near Kjustendil, Ovcharovo (Targovishte district), Osenovo (Varna district), and basilica no. 5 in Hisar (ancient Diocletianopolis). All of them date back to the fifth–sixth centuries.21 The following day after the discovery of the marble reliquary, we decided to check whether the altar pillar of the earliest basilica had been placed at the same distance of 2.30 metres west of its sanctuary apse. It was indeed exactly at a distance of 2.30 metres from the apse of the earliest basilica

Figure 13.1 The marble reliquary Source: Kazimir Popkonstantinov

252 Kazimir Popkonstantinov & Rossina Kostova that we found the initial location of the reliquary’s tile casket: a well-shaped cavity coated with mortar in which one of the casket tiles remained in place. The tile casket was no doubt surmounted by the altar pillar, which, did not, however, survive. While clearing the layer of small stones, fragmented tiles and ashes 0.60 metres to the east of this spot, we found a small stone box (4 × 6 × 3.5 cm) with a raised recess on the top and full of earth.22 The bottom and the four sides of the box are inscribed in Greek in a clockwise fashion. The legible sections reveal the name of St John in Genitive, the date of 24 June, as well as the name of a certain Thomas, “thy servant of God”, seeking the Lord’s protection.23 From a palaeographic point of view, the inscription may be dated to the fourth–fifth centuries. The text implies that a certain Thomas came from somewhere and that this was related to the erection of the altar pillar on the nativity of St John the Forerunner. The most logical suggestion is that the small box served as a kind of a “transport container”, in which a certain Thomas brought to the island relics believed to belong to St John the Forerunner to be placed beneath the altar pillar of the church on the date of its consecration. What might have happened to the relics in such a case, since the inscribed container was found to be full of earth? Perhaps the relics were moved to another “official” reliquary, with this reliquary potentially the marble one found beneath the altar pillar of the later basilica. Most probable, it was the original reliquary designed to keep the holy relics in the first church and therefore arranged within a tile casket, the remains of which have been attested to on the spot. The date of 24 June may have referred to the day of the first church’s consecration, when the reliquary with the relics was laid down beneath the altar table. The simple stone container was not thrown away but placed alongside the marble reliquary beneath the pillar of the altar table in the first basilica, since it was sanctified by storing the holy relics of John the Baptist for a period. Archaeology can apparently answer a good number of questions related to the relative chronology of the two consecutive churches, the sequence in which the reliquaries were laid beneath the altar tables and the relative dates of the reliquaries on the basis of typology and epigraphy. Archaeology is, however, unable to provide relevant answers to many other important questions. We therefore challenged ourselves to use scientific research in as many aspects as we were able to access and fund.

Scientific research The scientific research focused on the reliquaries and the relics. The research on the reliquaries was conducted in Bulgaria and funded by the Ministry of Culture. The research on the relics was completed abroad and funded by the National Geographic Society Expeditions Council. The results of the two groups of research are yet to be published, therefore we have only the

The relics of St John in Bulgaria

253

preliminary results, without commentary on methodology and details of the analysis on the reliquaries and relics. Scientific research on the reliquaries Several attempts have been made to provide a scientific analysis of the two reliquaries. One such attempt involved the use of ultraviolet and infrared photographs of the reliquaries. Thanks to the ultraviolet photos, it has been established that the lid of the marble reliquary was attached to the body by means of an organic material and had never been opened until the summer of 2010.24 Chemical and physical analysis of the mortar adhered to the lid of the marble reliquary shows that it is of a masonry type, at a ratio of two portions of lime to one of refill.25 Perhaps the most interesting is the petrologic analysis of the two reliquaries. According to this analysis, the marble reliquary was made out of a bright white, transparent marble that may originate from areas of Southern Turkey, and more specifically, the Aegean Islands. The small stone box was made out of tuff, which demonstrates features very close to this type of volcanic rock in Cappadocia.26 The two reliquaries have been cleaned and consolidated by a restorer in the Central Lab for Conservation at the National Historical Museum in Sofia.27 They are now kept in display cases in one of the exhibition halls of the Archaeological Museum in Sozopol. Scientific research on the relics As previously mentioned, opening the marble reliquary revealed nine pieces of bone. Due to a personal decision made by K. Popkonstantinov, the relics have been given to the Church in the person of His Eminence the Metropolitan Archbishop of the Diocese of Sliven who administers the church in Sozopol. The bones themselves have been painstakingly moved with tweezers from the marble reliquary to a temporary wooden reliquary and transferred to St George church in Sozopol. This was a merely symbolic act which was, however, followed by a thorough metrical study and photo-documentation of the bones in the Archaeological Museum in Sozopol. The bones were then examined by an anthropologist, whose conclusions may be summarized as follows:28 (a) Three of the bones are animal. (b) The remaining six bones are human and can be identified as follows: 1 2 3

A right maxillary bicuspid tooth (dentes premorales). A right fragment of a maxillary with tooth sockets of the second and third teeth and a section of the tooth sockets of the first and fourth teeth. A fragment of a right rib.

254 Kazimir Popkonstantinov & Rossina Kostova 4 5 6

A fragment of the second or third wrist bone. A fragment of a tubular bone, probably a radius. A small fragment probably of a tibia or femur.

Furthermore, according to the anthropological analysis, all six bones belonged to a single male individual. The thickness of the joint edges indicates rheumatic changes and supports the identifcation of the individual as an “adult”. According to their state, it may be concluded that the bones had not been buried in the earth for a long period of time. Upon examinations in the museum, the relics were returned to the temporary wooden reliquary and kept in the local church. On St John’s Nativity feast on 24 June 2011, the relics were moved to their final reliquary and placed on display in the church of St Cyril and St Methodius in Sozopol for veneration over the summer period. Thanks to the interest shown by the National Geographic television channel in August 2010, we were encouraged to attempt radiocarbon dating and DNA tests in labs of our choice and with financial support from the National Geographic Society. We therefore turned to Prof. Thomas Higham of the Oxford Radiocarbon Accelerator Unit at the University of Oxford, who in turn suggested we contact Dr Hannes Schroeder and Prof. Eske Willerslev of the Centre for GeoGenetics at the University of Copenhagen, to carry out the DNA tests. The result was that a project for scientific research into the relics from the island of Sveti Ivan submitted by Prof. Thomas Higham received funding by the National Geographic Society Expeditions Council. In Prof. Higham’s words, the plan for the research work included the following aims:29 1

2 3

4

AMS radiocarbon dating, stable isotope analysis of carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and strontium to analyze the age and life history of the individual or individuals represented. To determine whether all three samples are from the same individual. A full mitochondrial genome from all of the human bone samples will be attempted and the sample haplotypes will be compared to known distributions of haplogroups around the world. This may allow us to distinguish between European and Levantine populations. Shotgun sequencing of the nuclear genome will allow us to study the so-called ancestry informative markers in the nuclear DNA, which may also enable us to explore the origin of the humans interred within the reliquary.

The crucial pre-condition for accomplishing the project was permission from the Church to take samples of the relics, already in its possession. This permission was fnally granted by His Eminence the Metropolitan Archbishop of the Diocese of Sliven thanks to successful negotiations conducted by K. Popkonstantinov.

The relics of St John in Bulgaria

255

The sampling of the relics took place in the church of St Cyril and St Methodius in Sozopol in June 2011. This process was featured along with the final stages of the laboratory analysis in Oxford and Copenhagen in a documentary produced by Far West Film Company for the National Geographic television channel, released on 17 June 2012.30 The main results of the scientific research in Oxford and Copenhagen are summarized in the University of Oxford press release from 15 June 2012 as follows:31 1

2

Prof. Thomas Higham and Prof. Christopher Ramsey attempted to radiocarbon date four human bones, but only one of them contained a sufficient amount of collagen to be dated successfully. This is the metacarpal hand bone and the result is consistent with someone who lived in the early first century AD. Dr Hannes Schroeder and Prof. Eske Willerslev reconstructed the complete mitochondrial DNA genome sequence for three of the human bones to establish that the bones were all from the same individual. They identified a family group of genes (mtDNA haplotype) as being a group most commonly found in the Near East (nowadays known as the Middle East), which is the region John the Baptist would have originated from. They also established that the bones probably belonged to a male individual, upon analysis of the nuclear DNA from samples.

Surprisingly enough, it was not the media or propaganda but scientifc research that turned the discovery of the two reliquaries on the island of Sveti Ivan into one of the greatest archaeological sensations of the frst decade of the 21st century. The human relics found in the marble reliquary appeared to be the frst alleged relics of John the Baptist found in an archaeological context, in a box that remained sealed for 1,500 years. This was also the frst time ever that relics believed to have belonged to the body of John the Baptist had been the subject of radiocarbon dating and genetic testing. The results matched the biblical story of John the Baptist quite closely, although it could not be proved that the bones really did belong to the highly venerated saint. The fate of the relics and further research did, however, encounter a number of unexpected hurdles.

Follow-up stories The first such event was the theft of one of the relics. This occurred in April 2012 in the Metropolitan church of the town of Sliven where the relics were brought for veneration from Sozopol. We still do not know who did it and why, but the theft tellingly coincided with the release of the documentary “Head of John the Baptist” on the National Geographic television channel in the United States and Canada. It seems that the scientific results featured in the documentary were deemed to have proved

256

Kazimir Popkonstantinov & Rossina Kostova

the authenticity of the relics and thus may have prompted the criminal act of acquiring a piece of them. Three years later, however, while working on the final publication of the scientific research on the relics, Dr Hannes Schroeder insisted on sequencing all the scholars who had worked with the bones in order to eliminate any doubts in contamination. Unfortunately, it turned out that contamination had occurred. While preparing the present chapter, we asked Dr Schroeder for permission to discuss the DNA results and he asked us to point out that (1) The amount of DNA recovered was minuscule, since we were only allowed to sample very little from the relics and that, (2) the samples were probably contaminated during the sampling process as there was a match with one of the members of the research team. We might have been able to prevent this if we had been able to sample the remains in the clean laboratory instead of the church, but of course that wasn’t possible at the time. In my view, this highlights the danger of contamination and underlines the need to follow strict sampling procedures. There was, however, also good news following the discovery of the reliquaries in 2010 that gave us hope that we could make a further step in reconstructing the earliest history of the monastery on the island of Sveti Ivan. This was the discovery of a vaulted brick tomb tightly attached to the northern foundation of the prothesis of the earliest basilica. The basilica and the tomb were built simultaneously. In fact, the tomb sheltered two deceased placed along the northern and southern walls of the tomb, respectively. Both were evidently buried in coffins due to the number of nails found. Surprisingly enough, the skeleton of a 3-year-old sheep had been laid on the coffin of the man buried in the southern part of the tomb. According to the anthropological analysis,32 the two skeletons are male, the northern one around 50–60 years old at time of death and the southern one 45–50 at time of death. In the layer over the tomb, we found a coin of Justinian I (527–65) minted in AD 538–65, suggesting the terminus ante quem for the construction of the tomb.33 This has been further confirmed by a radiocarbon dating of the sheep bones to the late sixth–early seventh centuries.34 The planning of the tomb together with the first basilica indicate that the people buried there must have been very important to the monastic community, such as founders and/or leaders. We therefore sent samples for AMS radiocarbon dating and stable isotope analysis in order to analyze the age of the two individuals. The results produced in the Oxford Radiocarbon Accelerator Unit at the University of Oxford in spring 2017 facilitated a further reconstruction of the story of the island relics. Thus, the result of the sample from one of the individuals is consistent with someone alive in the mid-fourth century AD, while the result of the sample of the other body is consistent with someone alive in the mid-sixth century.35 The two individuals must have been prominent members of the monastic community to have

The relics of St John in Bulgaria

257

been provided with such a burial place, although in different periods of the monastery’s development. It seems plausible to suggest that the individual alive in the mid-fourth century may have been related to the transfer of the relics to the island of Sveti Ivan, since such a task would not have been completed by an ordinary monk. It is also tempting to believe that he is Thomas, “thy servant of God” noted in the inscription on the tuff box. The radiocarbon dating of the other individual and the sheep laid down on top of him provide the terminus post quem for the functioning of the first church. It seems that it was destroyed by fire at the end of the sixth century, perhaps during the Avar raid towards Constantinople in 586 AD. The marble reliquary was transferred along with the tile casket beneath the altar table in the second basilica that was built over the remains of the first one within a short period of time. Only one tile of the original casket as well as the tuff container remained in their original spot, sealed by the new floor revetment. In summarizing the research conducted on the reliquaries and relics found seven years ago in the monastic basilicas on the island of Sveti Ivan, we must admit that, although progress has been made, the main questions remain open. These refer to the management and logistics of transferring relics in the Eastern Mediterranean and the way in which the network of patrons, dealers, and finders of relics was organized in the earliest stages of the fourth–fifth centuries. By that time, Sozopol was undoubtedly part of the nearest hinterland of Constantinople, and it is logical to assume that the foundation of the monastery on the largest island along the west coast of the Black Sea may have been supported by the ecclesiastical elite in the Byzantine capital. The fact that the monastery was directly administered by the Patriarchate in Constantinople during the Middle Ages might be considered indirect evidence for such a notion. Acquisition of the relics of John the Baptist in the late fourth century would also not have been possible without a high-ranking patronage. From the point of view of typology and fabric, the marble reliquary was most likely manufactured in Constantinople.36 The relics, or at least the entire set, did not perhaps come to the island in the marble reliquary. Some of them may have instead arrived in the plain stone transport container, which certainly was not designed in Constantinople. Let us recall that it was made out of tuff, typical of Cappadocia, a region close to Antioch, where the right hand of John the Baptist was kept until the tenth century.37 Indeed, the most unusual characteristic of the relics found on the island of Sveti Ivan is the fact that they come from all parts of the body – the head, the chest, the hand, and the leg and, it must be noted, all from the right part of the body. In the late fourth century, when we believe that the relics were translated to the island, there were no other relics of John the Baptist in Constantinople, except for the head.38 Apparently, the patron and/or the finder of the relics in our story knew much more reliable places one could have found precious pieces of bone from the body of the Baptist. Where and how Thomas, addressed in the inscription on the tuff box, acquired all these pieces, we may never know.

258 Kazimir Popkonstantinov & Rossina Kostova The final lesson from the story of our research on the relics from the island of Sveti Ivan is that science has its limits. Faith and imagination, however, are boundless. Since we are scholars, we will stop here and leave the door open for those who believe and who are talented at telling stories in the fashion of the late Umberto Eco.

Notes 1 Koledarov, “Moreplavatelni”, 293; Dimitrov, “Balgarskite”, 23; Les portulans grecs, 231; Les portulans grecs, Compléments, 46–7, and Gjuzelev and Koder, “Das Prodromos-Kloster”, 95. 2 Philæ, Carmina, 245. 3 Pachymérès, Relations historiques, vol. 3, 202–7. According to V. Gjuzelev and J. Koder, the restoration of the monastery took place from 1284 to 1292 AD: Gjuzelev and Koder, “Das Prodromos-Kloster”, 95. 4 Pachymérès, Relations historiques, vol. 4, 418–21; Laurent,“La chronologie”, 147–8. 5 Papadopoulos-Kerameus, “H ™n tô Swzopóleoß”; Regesten der Kaiserurkunden, no. 3093, 3096, and 3473. 6 Dimitrov, “I monasteri”, 279–81. 7 Dimova, Dimitrov, Kapelkova, Petrinski, and Stoev, “Manastira”; Dimitrov, Petrinski, Kapelkova, and Dimova, “Razkopki”, 112; Soustal, Tabula Imperii Byzantini, 285–6, and Popkonstantinov, Drazheva, and Kostova, “Manastirat”. 8 Dimova, Dimitrov, Kapelkova, and Petrinski, “Razkopki”. 9 Popkonstantinov, Drazheva, and Kostova, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2010, 597; Popkonstantinov, Drazheva, and Kostova, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2013, 464; Popkonstantinov and Kostova, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2014, 551–2. 10 The analysis of the soil samples from the sanctuaries of the first and the second basilica made by Prof. Hristo Etropolski of the National Academy of Arts in Sofia proved that the two soils are very close in content. This conclusion leads us to believe that the second basilica was built very soon after the destruction of the first one. We are grateful to Prof. Hr. Etropolski for making unpublished results available to us. See also, Popkonstantinov, Drazheva, Kostova, and Nikolova, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2011, 503. 11 Dimova, Tsarkvite, 341–3. 12 Popkonstantinov, Drazheva, and Kostova, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2010, 597–8. 13 Unpublished results from the excavations in 2016. 14 Popkonstantinov, Drazheva, and Kostova, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2010, 596. 15 Popkonstantinov and Kostova, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2014, 551; “Philanthropos: Typikon”, 1383–4; Janin, La géographie, 525–9. 16 Catalogue of Byzantine, 114–15, no. 56.1–56.4. 17 The coins found in the monastery have been processed and identified by Stoyan Mihajlov from the Regional Historical Museum in Veliko Tarnovo. 18 Unpublished results from the archaeological excavations of 2008–2013. 19 Popkonstantinov, Drazheva, and Kostova, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2009, 710–11; Popkonstantinov, Drazheva, and Kostova, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2012, 482; Popkonstantinov, Drazheva, and Kostova, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2013, 464; Popkonstantinov and Kostova, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2014, 551. 20 Popkonstantinov, Drazheva, Kostova, and Nikolova, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2011, 501–2. 21 Minchev, Early Christian Reliquaries, 24–6, cat. no. 10, 11, 12, and 13.

The relics of St John in Bulgaria

259

22 Popkonstantinov, Drazheva, Kostova, and Nikolova, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2011, 502. 23 A complete deciphering and reading of the inscription will be carried out by Kazimir Popkonstantinov (Department of Archaeology, University of Veliko Tarnovo) and Nikolay Sharankov (Department of Classical Languages, Sofia University “St Kliment Ohridski”) in a separate publication. 24 Unpublished results from the scientific research conducted by Prof. Hristo Etropolski. 25 Unpublished results from the scientific research conducted by Prof. Hristo Etropolski at the Central Laboratory of the Institute of Soil Science “Nikola Pushkarov”, at the Agricultural Academy in Sofia. 26 Unpublished results from the scientific research conducted by Prof. A. Sultanov of the University of Mining and Geology “Sveti Ivan Rilski” in Sofia. 27 The cleaning and consolidation of the two reliquaries was undertaken by Dr Daniela Cherneva, a former member of the Central Lab for Conservation at the National Historical Museum in Sofia. 28 The examination of the bone relics was completed by Prof. Jordan Jordanov of the Institute of Experimental Morphology and Anthropology at the Bulgarian Academy of Sciences in Sofia. 29 Higham, Kostova, and Popkonstantinov, “Relics of the Baptist”. 30 Dockstader and Kanaly, “Search”. 31 University of Oxford, “Relics”. 32 The anthropological analysis was performed by Dr Victoria Russeva of the Institute of Experimental Morphology and Anthropology at the Bulgarian Academy of Sciences in Sofia. 33 Popkonstantinov, Kostova, and Nikolov, “Srednovekoven manastir” 2016. 34 We are grateful to Prof. Hristo Popov of the Institute of Archaeology at the Bulgarian Academy of Sciences in Sofia for providing us with the opportunity to make a radiocarbon dating of the sheep bones. Samples are measured at the Scottish Universities Environmental Research Centre AMS Facility: SUERC63821 (GU39114), radiocarbon age BP 1516 ±31. 35 The radiocarbon dating was financed by the County of Sozopol. We are grateful to Dr Victoria Russeva for taking the samples and preparing the application for the radiocarbon dating and to Prof. Thomas Higham for enabling the measuring of the samples at the Oxford Radiocarbon Accelerator Unit. 36 Kazan, “Arks”, 84–100. 37 Kalavrezou, “Helping Hands”, 67–76. 38 Kazan, “Relics of St John”.

Sources and bibliography Catalogue of Byzantine Seals at Dumbarton Oaks and in the Fogg Museum of Art. Vol. 5: The East (Continued), Constantinople and Environs, Unknown Locations, Addenda, Uncertain Readings, edited by E. McGeer, J. Nesbitt, and N. Oikonomides. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, Trustees for Harvard University, 2005. Dimitrov, B. “Balgarskite pristanishta v XIII i XV v. spored dva srednovekovni portolana”. Arheologiya 1 (1979): 21–8. Dimitrov, B. “I monasteri di Sozopol nei secoli XIII-XV”. Byzantino-bulgarica 7 (1981): 277–82. Dimitrov, B., I. Petrinski, K. Kapelkova, and V. Dimova. “Razkopki na manastira ‘Sv. Ivan Predtecha’ v Sozopol 1992”. In Arheologicheski otkritiya i razkopki za 1992– 1993 g., 111–12. Sofia: Balgarska Academia na Naukite, 1994.

260 Kazimir Popkonstantinov & Rossina Kostova Dimova, V. Tsarkvite v Balgariya prez XIII-XIV v. Sofia: Agató, 2008. Dimova, V., B. Dimitrov, K. Kapelkova, and I. Petrinski. “Razkopki v manastira ‘Sv. Ivan Predtecha’ v Sozopol”. In Arheologicheski otkritiya i razkopki za 1989 g., edited by V. Velkov, A. Bonev, H. Todorova, I. Prokopov, and E. Kardzheiva, 194–5. Sofia: Balgarska Academia na Naukite, 1990. Dimova, V., B. Dimitrov, K. Kapelkova, I. Petrinski, and R. Stoev. “Manastira ‘Sv. Ivan Predtecha’ v Sozopol”. In Arheologicheski otkritiya i razkopki za 1991 g., 154–5. Sofia: Balgarska Academia na Naukite, 1992. Dockstader, N., and Q. Kanaly. “Search for the Head of John the Baptist”. In DVD, directed by N. Dockstader.Washington, DC: National Geographic: NGHT, LLC, 2012. Gjuzelev, V., and J. Koder. “Das Prodromos-Kloster von Sozopol und die dort aufgefundene spätbyzantinische Grabinschrift”. In Lithostrōton: Studien zur byzantinischen Kunst und Geschichte. Festschrift für Marcell Restle, edited by B. Borkopp, and T. Steppan, 93–105. Bildende Kunst 46, Geschichte und Historische Hilfswissenschaften 63. Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, 2000. Higham, T., R. Kostova, and K. Popkonstantinov. “Relics of the Baptist: Scientific Research Planned for the Finds Excavated in Sozopol, Bulgaria in 2010 (Radiocarbon Dating, DNA Testing)”. Paper presented at Saint John the Baptist and his Cults, St John’s College, Oxford, 24 June 2011. Janin, R. La géographie ecclésiastique de l’empire byzantin. I. Le siège de Constantinople et le patriarcat œcuménique. Vol. 3: Les églises et les monastères. Paris: Institut Français d’Études Byzantines, Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1969. Kalavrezou, I. “Helping Hands for the Empire: Imperial Ceremonies and the Cult of Relics at the Byzantine Court”. In Byzantine Court Culture from 829 to 1204, edited by H. Maguire, 53–79. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, Trustees for Harvard University, 1997. Kazan, G. “Arks of Constantinople, the New Jerusalem: The Origins of the Byzantine Sarcophagus Reliquary”. Byzantion 85 (2015): 77–125. Kazan, G. “Relics of St John the Baptist: The Early Evidence”. Paper presented at Saint John the Baptist and his Cults, St John’s College, Oxford, 24 June 2011. Koledarov, P. “Moreplavatelni karti i drugi svidetelstva za mezhdunarodnoto znachenie na Vtorata balgarska darzhava”. In Balgariya v sveta ot drevnostta do nashi dni, edited by D.K. Kosev, E. Buzhashki, V. Velkov, S. Dimitrov, N. Kosashki, B. Mateev, H. Nestorov, P. Petrov, and V. Hadzhinikolov. Vol. 1, 290–8. Sofia: Nauka i izkustvo, 1979. Laurent, V. “La chronologie des patriarches de Constantinople au XIIIe S. (1208– 1309)”. Revue des Études Byzantines 27 (1969): 129–50. Minchev, A. Early Christian Reliquaries from Bulgaria (4th-6th Century AD). Varna: Varna Regional Museum of History, Stalker, 2003. Pachymérès, G. Relations Historiques, edited and translated by A. Failler. Vol. 3: Livres VII-IX. Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae, Series Parisiensis 24.3. Paris: Institut Français d’Études Byzantines, 1999. Pachymérès, G. Relations Historiques, edited and translated by A. Failler. Vol. 4: Livres X-XIII. Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae, Series Parisiensis 24.4. Paris: Institut Français d’Études Byzantines, 1999. Papadopoulos-Kerameus, A. “H ™n tô Swzopóleoß basilikë monë Iwannou toû Prodrómou kaí £ túxh thß biblioqëkhß ˜utê”. Vizantijski Vremennik 7, no. 4 (1900): 661–95.

The relics of St John in Bulgaria

261

Philæ, M. Carmina ex codicibus Escurialensibus, Florentinis, Parisinis et Vaticanis, edited by E. Miller. Vol. 2. Paris: Typographeo Imperiali, 1857. “Philanthropos: Typikon of Irene Choumnaina Palaiologina for the Convent of Christ Philanthropos in Constantinople”, translated by A.-M. Talbot. In Byzantine Monastic Foundation Documents: A Complete Translation of the Surviving Founders’ Typika and Testaments, edited by J. Thomas, A.C. Hero, and G. Constable. Vol. 4, 1383–8. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, Trustees for Harvard University, 2000. Popkonstantinov, K., T. Drazheva, and R. Kostova. “Srednovekoven manastir ‘Sv. Ioan Prodrom’ na ostrov ‘Sveti Ivan’, Sozopol”. In Arheologicheski otkritiya i razkopki prez 2008 g., edited by D. Gergova, 708–12. Sofia: Balgarska Academia na Naukite, 2009. Popkonstantinov, K., T. Drazheva, and R. Kostova. “Srednovekoven manastir ‘Sv. Ioan Prodrom’ na ostrov ‘Sveti Ivan’, Sozopol”. In Arheologicheski otkritiya i razkopki prez 2009 g., edited by D. Gergova, 595–8. Sofia: Balgarska Academia na Naukite, 2010. Popkonstantinov, K., T. Drazheva, and R. Kostova. “Srednovekoven manastir ‘Sv. Ioan Prodrom’ na ostrov ‘Sveti Ivan’, Sozopol”. In Arheologicheski otkritiya i razkopki prez 2011 g., edited by M.R. Gyurova, 481–2. Sofia: Balgarska Academia na Naukite, 2012. Popkonstantinov, K., T. Drazheva, and R. Kostova. “Srednovekoven manastir ‘Sv. Ioan Prodrom’ na ostrov ‘Sveti Ivan’, Sozopol”. In Arheologicheski otkritiya i razkopki prez 2012 g., edited by M.R. Gyurova, 463–5. Sofia: Balgarska Academia na Naukite, 2013. Popkonstantinov, K., T. Drazheva, and R. Kostova. “Manastirat ‘Sv. Ioan Prodrom’ na ostrov ‘Sveti Ivan’ v svetlinata na novite arheologicheski poruchvaniya (2008– 2013)/Monastery of St John the Forerunner on the island of Sveti Ivan in light of the recent archaeological investigations (2008–2013)”. Izvestiya na Burgaskiya muzej 5 (2015): 209–17. Popkonstantinov, K., T. Drazheva, R. Kostova, and D. Nikolova. “Srednovekoven manastir ‘Sv. Ioan Prodrom’ na ostrov ‘Sveti Ivan’, Sozopol”. In Arheologicheski otkritiya i razkopki prez 2010 g., edited by M.R. Gyurova, 500–3. Sofia: Balgarska Academia na Naukite, 2011. Popkonstantinov, K., and R. Kostova. “Srednovekoven manastir ‘Sv. Ioan Prodrom’ na ostrov ‘Sveti Ivan’, Sozopol”. In Arheologicheski otkritiya i razkopki prez 2013 g., edited by M.R. Gyurova, 550–2. Sofia: Balgarska Academia na Naukite, 2014. Popkonstantinov, K., R. Kostova, and M. Nikolov. “Srednovekoven manastir ‘Sv. Ioan Prodrom’ na ostrov ‘Sveti Ivan’, Sozopol/Medieval Monastery of St John the Forerunner on the Island of Sveti Ivan, Sozopol”. In Arheologicheski otkritiya i razkopki prez 2015 g., edited by A. Aladzhov, 736–40. Sofia: Balgarska Academia na Naukite, 2016. Les portulans grecs, edited by A. Delatte. Bibliothèque de la Faculté de Philosophie et Lettres de 1’Université de Liège 107. Liège: Faculté de Philosophie et Lettres; Paris: Librairie E. Droz, 1947. Les portulans grecs, edited by A. Delatte. Vol. 2: Compléments. Académie Royale de Belgique, Classe des Lettres et des Sciences Morales et Politiques, Mémoires 53.1. Bruxelles: Palais des Académies, 1958. Regesten der Kaiserurkunden des oströmischen Reiches von 565–1453, edited by F. Dölger, and P. Wirth. Vol. 5: Regesten von 1341–1453. München: Verlag C.H. Beck, 1965.

262 Kazimir Popkonstantinov & Rossina Kostova Soustal, P. Tabula Imperii Byzantini 6: Thrakien (Thrakē, Rodopē und Haimimontos). Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-Historische Klasse: Denkschriften 221. Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1991. University of Oxford. “Relics ‘could be of John the Baptist’”. Accessed 18 September 2019. www.ox.ac.uk/news/2012-06-15-relics-could-be-john-baptist.

Index

Abbey at Bury Saint Edmunds 183 Abbey of Charroux 5 Abbey of Clairvaux 52 Abbey of Monte Cassino 140, 148 Abbey of Saint-Antoine-en-Viennois 50 Abbey of Saint-Benoît-de-Fleury 148 Abbey of Saint-Denis 52 Abbey of Sainte-Marie-Madeleine de Vézelay 42, 50 Abbey of Saint-Germain d’Auxerre 52 Abbey of Saint James 43 Abbey of Saint Mauritius of Agaune 136 Abbey of Saint-Pierre de Moissac 53 Abbey of Saint-Pierre-le-Vif 53 Abbey of Saint-Riquier 15–16 Abbey of Saint-Ruf d’Avignon 43 Abbey of Saint-Vaast 44, 133 Abbey of the Bénédictines 20 Abbey of the Holy Sepulchre 43 Abbey Saint-Vanne de Verdun 17 Abgar of Edessa, King 19 Acca, Saint 139 Adalhard, Saint 136 Adam of Arras 46 Adèle of France 136–7 Adeliza of Louvain, Queen of England 66 Ademar of Chabannes 136 Adomnán (hagiographer) 231–2, 235 Ado of Vienne 41 Aethelthryth of Ely, Saint 64 Agatha, Saint 20, 22, 138–40 Agaunum (Saint-Maurice) 13 Aimoin of Saint-Germaindes-Prés 134 Alberti, Duranti 186 Albert, Sophie 25 Alexander III, Pope 44 Alexander of Svir, Saint 204, 205

Alexandra Feodorovna, Consort of Nicholas II 205 Alexandre, Saint (martyr) 138, 140 Alexios I Komnenos, Byzantine emperor 250 Alfonso III of Oviedo, King of León, Galicia and Asturias 41, 236 Alice (daughter of clerk of Essex) 70–2 Allemand, Laurent Ier 51 Allen, William 186, 188 Alphonse III of Asturias 87–8 altars 16–18, 20, 83, 117, 119, 140, 186, 252 Amay-sur-Meuse 14 Andrés-Gallego, José 4 Andrew, Saint 156–7 Andronikos II Palaiologos, Emperor 247 Angenendt, Arnold 24 Angilbert, Abbot of Saint-Riquier 15 Anne Dacre, Countess of Arundel 189 Ansbert, Saint 137 Anselm of Canterbury, Saint 65 Aparici, Manuel 2 Aquilina, wife of Gilbert Bassett 72 Arichis II, Duke of Benevento 149 Arnulf of Carinthia, Holy Roman Emperor 135 Arnulf of Chocques, Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem 228 Arrowsmith, Edmund 191–4 Assizes of Ariano 147 Auctor of Trier, Saint 138 Audaldus (monk) 134 Augier of Riez, Bishop 43 Augustine of Hippo, Saint 24 authenticity 20–3, 25, 63, 175, 205 Avitus, Bishop of Vienne 227

264

Index

Balthazar, Saint 173 Bardon de Brun, Bernard 96 Barlow, Ambrose 191 Barnabas, Saint 48 Baronius, Caesar 186 Bartholomew, Saint 43, 150 Bartolini, Domenico, Cardinal 112 Baschet, Jérôme 17 Basil I, Byzantine Emperor 230 Basilica of Loreto 93, 96 Basilica of Saint Ambrose 17 Basilica of Saint Martin 52 Basilica of Saint Nicholas 19, 152 Basilica of Saint-Remi 16–17 Basilica of Saint-Sernin 44, 48–9, 51 Basilica of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme 236 Basil, illegitimate son of Romanos I 230 Basset, Gilbert 72 Baudoin V of Flanders, Count 46 Becket, Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury 64, 72–3, 110, 183–7, 194 Benedict, Saint 26, 148 Béranger, Viscount of Narbonne 137 Berchaire, Count of Laon 133 Berlinda of Meerbeke, Saint 138 Bernward Crucifix 16 Bischoff, Bernhard 25 Bisson, Thomas 64, 68 Blanche of Castile 42 Blanco, Francisco, Archbishop 94–5 Bloch, Maurice 68 blood 11, 192, 194 Blot, J. 81 Bock, Franz 173 bodies: holy bodies 17–18, 20–2, 48; of saints 4–5, 26, 44, 47–51 Bohun, Jocelyn de 71 Boiron, Stéphane 24 bones: corporeal relics 11; dry bones 205; excavations of Ibañeta 82–6; of martyrs of the faith 188; Roman catacombs 182; of Saint Acca 137; of Saint Colomannus 139; of Saint Dionysius 135; of Saint Evroul 137; of Saint James 41, 43–7, 49, 52, 109–10, 113–15, 133; of Saint John the Baptist 253–6; of Saint Philip 52; of saints 22, 64; of Saint Sergius 210; of Saint Simeon 204, 208, 212, 215; of Thomas Becket 183, 186, 194; of Three Holy Kings 173–4; traffic in 182; Twelve Peers of France 83; venerated by pilgrims 1

Boniface IX, Pope 171 Bonne, Jean-Claude 18 Book of Isaiah 233 Book of Miracles of the Apostle (Cuaderno de Milagros) 95 Bourges Cathedral 52 Boussel, Patrice 18, 25 Bozóky, Edina 12, 19 Braun, Joseph 17 brotherhoods 98–100 Brown, Peter 13, 147 Bruneau, Jacques 50 Bruno, Bishop of Segni 140 Bruno I, Archbishop of Cologne 173 Budde, Michel 17 Bully, Aurélia 51 Burkardt, Albrecht 21 Byzantine art 230 Caillet, Jean-Pierre 16 Calixtus II, Pope 42 Calvin, Jean 22 Calvin, John 18 Camino de Santiago (Way of Saint James) 2, 92, 99, 100, 101 Camm, Bede 193–4 Canon 62 24, 63 Cardaillac, Xavier de 82 Car d’Or procession 22 Carilefus, Saint 136 Carlos II, King of Spain 98 Carlos V, King of Spain 98 Carolingian regulations 24, 146–7 Carvajal, Luisa de 188 Casares, Antonio 114 casa sancta 20 Caspar, Saint 173 Cathedral of Pistoia 93 Cathedral of Rodez 100 Cathedral of Saint Stephen 48 Cathedral of San Salvador de Oviedo 236–7 Catherijneconvent Museum 13 Catherine, Saint 20 Catholic Reformation 2 Cavalleris, Giovanni Battista de 188 Centre d’Études Médiévales d’Auxerre 13 Centre International d’Étude des Textiles Anciens 174 Cesar, Baronio, Cardinal 97 Chalancon, Aimon de 51 Chapel of Roland 78 Chapel of Saint Thomas 186 Chapel of the Holy Saviour 42

Index Chapel of the Holy Spirit (Silo of Charlemagne) 79, 82–3 Charlemagne 15, 16, 41, 47–9, 51, 53, 138, 147 Charles III the Simple, King of the Franks 83, 85, 87 Charles IV the Fair, King of France 51 Charles’s cross (crux Caroli) 87 Charles the Bald, king of West Francia, king of Italy and emperor of the Carolingian Empire 47, 54 Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor 168 Charles V the Wise, King of France 42, 48, 53, 54 Chartes de L’Abbey de Saint-Martin de Tournai 46 Chartraire, Eugène 53 Chissé, Aymon de 50 Christopher, Saint 47 Chrodegang of Metz, Saint 15, 136 Chrodoara (Saint Ode) “of Amay” d’Aquitaine 14 Chronicle of Pseudo-Turpin (Pseudo-Turpin) 79 Church of Hexham 139 Church of Jerusalem 229 Church of Saint Cyril and Saint Methodius 255 Church of Saint Festus 150 Church of Saint George 174, 254 Church of Saint-Jacques-du-Bru 53 Church of Saint James Grez-Neuville 53 Church of Saint James of Beldisnar Castle 43 Church of Saint Jean de Montierneuf 228 Church of Saint Mary in Roncesvalles (Runciavallis) 87 Church of Saint Michael 133 Church of Saints Cyril and Methodius 254 Church of Saint Stephan 136 Church of Saint Stephen 153 Church of Saint-Vanne 17 Church of Saint Swithun 67 Church of Sant’Eustorgio 164, 165 Church of the Holy Apostles 156 Cisereis mountains 80 Clifton, Cuthbert 192 Clitherow, Margaret 191 Clovis II, King of Neustria and Burgundy 132 Codex Balduini Trevirensis 168 Codex Calixtinus 41–2, 47–8, 54, 78–80, 86–7

265

coins 65, 83, 85–6, 88, 250, 256 Colas, Louis 82–3 Collegiate Church Saint-Pierre d’Aire-sur-la-Lys 45–7 Collegiate Church Saint-Maurille 44, 50, 99 Collin de Plancy, Jacques Albin Simon 22, 43 Cologne Cathedral 166–72, 175 Colomannus, Saint 139 Columbanus, Saint 13, 24 Colwell, Thomas 184 Combrouse, G. 85 Confraternity of the Holy Bodies 48 Conrad of Hochstaden, Archbishop 169 Constantine I, Roman Emperor 165, 226, 229–30 Constantine VII, Emperor of the Macedonian dynasty of the Byzantine Empire 230 Constantius II, Roman Emperor 156 contact relics 11 Cordez, Philippe 13 corporeal relics 11, 181 Council of Castile 97 Council of Trent 20, 24, 92, 94–5, 98, 181 Courtney, Reginald de 72 Cresconius, Bishop of Iria 43 Crisis of the Twelfth Century, The (Bisson) 64 Crombach, Hermann 169 Cross of San Toribio 237 Cruce Christi, De (Gretser) 234 crucifixes 16 Crusades 5 crux gemmata 229, 230 Crux Vaticana 229 Cruz de la Victoria 236–7 Cruz de los Ángeles 236 crypts 5, 14–16, 83, 117–19 cults 2, 20–1, 23–4, 68, 182–9 Cuthbert of Durham, Saint 64, 110 Daranatz, J.-B. 79 d’Austray, Raymond 99 David, King of Israel 166 de Gaulle, Charles 22 de Gaulle, Yvonne 22 Desiderius, Saint 150 Deuffic, Jean-Luc 12 Deusdona, deacon of the Church of Rome 147 Deus Omnipotens (papal bull) 112, 114, 116, 118, 119

266

Index

d’Hauteville, Bohemund 151 Dialogue of the Exchequer (fitz Nigel) 64, 74 Díaz y Díaz, M.C. 97 Dictionnaire critique des reliques et des images miraculeuses reliques modernes (Collin de Plancy) 22, 43 Diego de Sarmiento de Acuña, Count of Gondomar 189 Dionysus, Saint 135 Ditchfield, Simon 182 Dolan, Frances 192 Dolley, R.H. 85 dominical relics 18–19 Dormition Cathedral 207 Drake, Francis 97 Drijvers, J.W. 231 Drogo Sacramentary 15, 16 Dubarat, V. 79 Dubois, Jacques 20, 25 Dugdale, William 184 Dupront, Alphonse 190 Dussot, Jean 96 École Pratique des Hautes-Études 17 Eco, Umberto 257 Edessa Image (Mandylion) 19 Edict of Nantes 93, 96 Edward VI, King of England and Ireland 182 Egwinus, Bishop of Worcester, Saint 139 Einhard (Frankish scholar and courtier) 147 Einsiedeln, Our Lady of 102 Eleven Thousand Virgins (Legendary saints) 20 Elias, Abbot of Basilica of Saint Nicholas 153 Elizabeth Feodorovna, Grand Duchess 205 Elizabeth I, Queen of England 182 Elizaxarra (“ancient church”) 81 encolpia 230 encolpion-type reliquaries 230 English Catholicism 181–95 Epistola Leonis (Pope Leo’s Epistle) 42 Erchinoald, Mayor of the palace of King Clovis II 132–3 Escorial 1, 97 Estienne, Charles 96 Ethelred II, King of the English 85 Eucharist 21, 23, 98, 193, 225 Eudes, King of West Francia 135

Eudes of Sully, Bishop of Paris 52 Eustorgius, Archbishop of Milan, Saint 165 evangelical relics 19 Evremond, Saint 137 Evroul, Saint 137 Falk, Brigit 17 Fawtier, R. 79 Felipe III, King of Spain 97–8 Felipe II, King of Spain 1, 97 Felipe IV, King of Spain and Portugal 95, 98 Felix, Saint 173 Feodosy of Totma, Saint 3, 212 Ferdinand I, Holy Roman Emperor 168 Fernández-Guerra, Aureliano 115 Fernie, Eric 66 Festus, Saint 150 Fides of Agen, Saint 134 First Crusade 227–8, 237 Fita, Fidel 115 fitz Nigel, Richard, Bishop of London 64 Fletcher, Mary 192 Fleury, Rohault de 115, 232–3 Florence of Wevelinghoven 165 Flores epytaphii sanctorum (Thiofrid) 23 Fougères, F. 85 Fourth Crusade 156, 238 Fourth Lateran Council 24, 63, 146 “fourth power, the” 12 Foy, Saint 139 Francis of Assisi, Saint 4–5 “Frankish way” (iter francigenum) 42 Frederick Barbarossa, Holy Roman Emperor 68, 164 Frederick III, Holy Roman emperor 168 Freire, Francisco 114 French hospitals 99–100 French Way 87 Fursey, Saint 132 Gabinete Trama (team of archaeologists) 83 García de Castro Valdés, César 13 García, King of Galicia 43 Garnet, Henry 191 Gaudeul, F. 80, 81 Gaufridi, Pierre, Archbishop 42 Gauthier, Marie-Madeleine 12 Geary, Patrick 13 Gelmírez, Diego, Archbishop 47 Genovefa, Saint 139

Index Geoffrey, Duke of Anjou 68 George, Saint 249 Gerards of Bryn Hall 192 Germain d’Auxerre, Saint 15 Gero Crucifix 169 Gertrude, marchioness of Meissen 138 Gertrude of Nivelles, Saint 14 Gervaise, Nicolas 52 Gervasius, Saint 166 Gervin, Abbot of Saint-Riquier 15 Gesta (journal) 17 Geylo of Langres, Bishop 41, 133–4 Giffart, Philippe 51 Gilbert, Bishop of London 69, 70 Giovanni, Archdeacon of Bari 152 Glabas Tarchaniotes, Michael 247, 249 Glaber, Rodulfus 21 Godescalc of Le Puy, Bishop 41 Golgotha 229 González de Acevedo, Lázaro 97 Gorgon (Gorze), Saint 140 Gorgonius (martyr) 136 Gospel According to Matthew 165 Gospel of Saint Luke 19 Gouyn, Jean 96 Gozpertus, Bishop of Vienne 138 Grandmont Abbey 17 Greene, Robert 207 Gregory of Spoleto, Saint 173 Gregory of Tours 131 Gregory the Great, Pope 227 Gregory VII, Pope 151 Gretser, Jacob 234 Grévy, Jérôme 21 Grez, Raoul de 53 Guerra Campos, José 110, 115 Guiard des Moulins (monk) 46 Guibert de Nogent 23 Guide des Chemins de France (Estienne) 96 Guifred, Archbishop of Narbonne 137 Guillaume, Lord of Montfort in Brittany 53 Guimann (monk) 44 Guisasola y Rodríguez, Victoriano, Archbishop 117 Guiscard, Robert 151 Guzmán de Haros, Diego 97 Haas, Nicu 234 Habington, Thomas 184 Hadulphe, Saint 44 Hagia Sophia 165, 227, 234 Hahn, Cynthia 70

267

Hawarden, Thomas 192 Haymon, Duke of Ponthieu 132–3 “Head of John the Baptist” (documentary) 255 Héber-Suffrin, François 15 Hecker, Hermann Joseph, Provost of Cologne Cathedral 168, 175 Heckmann, Hubert 25 Heitz, Carol 15 Helena, mother of Emperor Constantine 226, 228 Helen, Saint 165 Helvetius, Anne-Marie 12 Henrician schism 182 Henriet, Patrick 18 Henrietta Maria of France, Queen consort of England 191 Henry II, King of England 64, 66, 68, 71, 73, 103, 183 Henry I, King of England 66, 69, 135 Henry of Blois, Bishop 67 Henry VII, Holy Roman Emperor 168 Henry VIII, King of England 183, 186 Henry V, King of England 67 Heraclius, Emperor of the Byzantine Empire 227 Herod, King of Judaea 41 Herrmann-Mascard, Nicole 23 Higham, Thomas 254–5 Hilarus, Pope 227, 229 Hildebert (monk) 134 Hildegarde (wife of Charlemagne) 138 Hisham I of Córdoba 80 Histoire de vie et prédication (Gouyn) 96 Historia Trium Regum (John of Hildesheim) 165 Historia Turpini 41–2, 47, 51 historical relics 11 Holme, Henry 192 Holy Ark of Oviedo 13 holy bodies 17–18, 20–2, 48 Holy Cross: Byzantine reliquaries of 230; in Constantinople 227–9, 237–8; historical background 226–9; isotope analysis 235–7; Jerusalem relic of the Wood 226–8, 233–4, 237–8; material context 229–31; morphology 231–3; as relic 11; relics distributed by Gregory the Great 227; relics distributed by Urban II 227–8; relics of 225–38; seized by Sasanian Persians 227; species 233–4; surface analysis 235; transferred

268

Index

to Constantinople 226–7; types of wood: 233; unlawful retention 136 Holy Cross Abbey in Poitiers 227 Holy House at the Basilica of Loreto 93 Holy Innocents 44 Holy Sepulchre 229 Holy Shroud 11, 19 Hôpital Saint-Jacques-aux-Pèlerins 51 Hosatus, Roger 69 Hospice of the Holy Cross 102 hospitals 100–3 Hugh of Amiens, Abbot of Reading Abbey 65, 67 Hugh of Vermandois, Bishop 41 Hugh the Great, Duke of Orléans 136, 137 Hugues de Flavigny 17 Ibañeta: excavations of Ibañeta 83–8; presbytery 83–5, 87–8; second body of church 85, 88; site of 81; third body of church 85–6 Ignatius of Loyola, Saint 92 images 17–18 Innocent III, Pope 156 Institute Royal du Patrimoine Artistique 174 Instituto de Estudios Gallegos Padre Sarmiento 13 Iogna-Prat, Dominique 16 Ipatiev House 213 Ireland 13 Irene Doukaina, wife of Alexios I Komnenos, Empress 250 jacquair guilds 96 James of Compostella, Saint: altar in Abbey of the Bénédictines dedicated to 20; anatomical and chemical analyses of bones 114–15; archaeological and historical analysis 113–15; archaeological discovery 113; arm of 43; bodies in Angers and Échirolles 50–1; bodies of 5; body and head in Toulouse 47–50, 99; churches dedicated to 42–3; hand in England 43, 67–74; head in Saint-Vaast and Aire-sur-la-Lys 44–7, 133, 140; hiding of relics 97; legal proceedings on archaeological discovery 115–16; reinventio 5, 109, 116–20; relic at Cathedral of Pistoia 93; search of bones 109–13; statue of 5; tomb of 4, 41; undefined relics of 51–3

James the Less, Saint 43, 45, 47, 49, 50, 52, 53 Januarius, Saint 150 Jean, Duke of Berry 48, 54 Jeanne of Évreux 51 Jehan de Tournai 49–50 Jeremiah, Prophet 166 Jerome, Saint 24 Jesuits 96 Jesus Christ: Holy Cross 11; Holy Shroud 11, 19; relics related to incarnate 5, 18–19; on shrine of Three Magi 167 Jeu de Robin et Marion (Adam of Arras) 46 Jeu du Pèlerin (Adam of Arras) 46 John Chrysostom, Bishop of Constantinople 233 John, King of England 73 John of Hildesheim, Prior 165 John of Tobolsk, Saint 207 John the Baptist, Saint 20, 23, 67, 148, 166, 255, 257; see also Monastery of Saint John the Forerunner Sveti Ivan John the Evangelist, Saint 41, 42, 53 John the Theologian, Saint 44 John XII Kosmas, Patriarch of Constantinople 247 Journal (Dussot) 96 Juaristi, V. 82 Jubilee Years 96–8 Jude, Saint 48 Julia, Dominique 92, 96 Justinian I 256 Justin II, Eastern Roman Emperor 226 Justus, Saint 137 Kashevarov, A.N. 214 Kazan, George 20, 26 Kenworthy, S.M. 214 Khrushchev, Nikita 203 Kievan Caves Monastery 214 Koopmans, Rachel 72–3 Kracht, H.-J. 13 Ksenofont of Optina, Archimandrite 205, 210 Labín, José María 112–13, 115 Lalore, Charles, Abbot 52 Lambarde, William 184 Lambert of Maestricht, Saint 17 Lamoral, Count of Egmont 189 Lanzoni, Francesco 148 Laon altar 16

Index Laon Cathedral 52–3 Last Supper 71 Lateran Cathedral 227 laude S Mariae, In (Hugh of Amiens) 67 Lecciones de arqueología sagrada (López Ferreiro) 112 Léduin/Luthduin, Abbot of Berclau 44, 47 Ledwin, Abbot of Berclau (Artois) 133 Legend of Kiev 152 Legner, Anton 13 lenguajeros 96 Lenin, Vladimir 214 Leodegaire (Leodegar), Bishop of Autun, Saint 44 Leo IX, Pope 16–17 Leo XIII, Pope 112, 114, 116, 119 Leyser, Karl 73 Liber Pontificalis 229 Liège Cathedral 17 López Ferreiro, Antonio 110, 112–13, 115, 117 Louis I, Duke of Anjou 53–4 Louis II, King of East Francia 230 Louis, Saint 20 Louis VII, King of France 42, 48, 186 Louis XI, King of France 42, 52, 168 Louis XIV, King of France 102, 103 Lourdes 19, 111, 116–18 Lupicinus, Saint (recluse) 132 Luther, Martin 1, 18 Mabillon, Jean 14 Maes, Bruno 93 Magloire, Saint 136 Maianus, Saint 134–5 Maison Dieu (“House of God”) 16 Malcuvenant, Mauger, sheriff of Surrey 72 Maleczek, Werner 156 Maniakes, George 138 Marcellinus, Saint 147 Margaret of Brabant 168 Marian images 19–20 Marie of Anjou 42 Mark, Saint 138–9 Martial, Saint 22 Martin, Abbot of Saint-Vaast 44–5, 133 Martínez Alegria, Agapito 83 Martin of Tours, Saint 20, 41, 131–2, 139 martyrs 188–9 Mary Magdalene, Saint 46, 66, 71 Mary Salome, Saint 53

269

Masso, Miguel de 82 mater omnium ecclesiarum Rossilionensium et Confluentium 42 Mateu y Llopis, F. 85 Matilda, Empress, Lady of the English 43, 66–9 Matthew, Archdeacon of Amalfi cathedral 156 Matthew, Count of Boulogne 69–70 Maurice, Byzantine Emperor 230 Maurice of Coimbra, Bishop 47 Maurilius (Maurille), Saint 50 Maurizio, Bishop of Catania 138 Maxfield, Thomas 188, 190 Maximilian I, Holy Roman Emperor 149, 168 Mayer, Thomas 183 Mayne, Cuthbert, Saint 182 Melchior, Saint 173 Menard, Claude 99 Mercoeur, Jacques de 53 Mercurius of Caesarea, Saint (martyr) 149 Michael, Saint 20 Milan Madonna 169 miracle stories 69–72, 139 Miracula sancti Columbani (Dubreucq and Zironi eds.) 24 Mitrofan of Voronezh, Saint 213 Mittelalterliche Schatzenverzeichnis [Register of Medieval Treasuries] (Bischoff) 25 Modoald, Saint 134 Mommoton, Pierre 99 Monastery of Berclau 44–5 Monastery of Christ Philanthropos 249–50 Monastery of Melk 139 Monastery of Ottobeuren (Bavaria) 138, 140 Monastery of Rebais 137 Monastery of Saint Dionysius of Paris 135 Monastery of Saint Emmeranus of Regensburg 135 Monastery of Saint-Honorat 43 Monastery of Saint John the Forerunner Sveti Ivan: archaeological data 249–50; archaeological evidence 248–9; Byzantine seals 249–50; follow-up stories 255–8; historical background 247–8; reliquaries 250–2, 257; scientific research 252–5, 256–7; tombs 249

270

Index

Monastery of Saint Victor 42–3 Monastery of the Prodromos 247–8 Monasticon Anglicanum (Dugdale) 184 Mont-Saint-Michel 16, 25 “Moors” (moriscos) 97 Morales, Ambrosio de 97 Mummolus, Abbot of Abbey of SaintBenoît-de-Fleury 148 Nabor, Saint 173 Napoleon I, Emperor of the French 117 National Geographic Society Expeditions Council 252 Netherlands 13 Neuville, Nicolas de 53 Nicaise (Nicasius), Bishop of Reims, Saint 44 Niceforo, cleric from Bari 152 Nicholas II of Russia 205 Nicholas of Myra/Bari, Saint 19, 20 Nicholas, Saint 151–6 Nivelles 14 Nizhny Tagil Museum 212–13 Notre-Dame of Boulogne 54 Notre Dame of Provins 96 Odorannus of Sens 137 Olivier (paladin) 80 Orderic Vitalis (English monk) 137 Ornamenta ecclesiae (Legner) 13 Otloh of Saint Emmeranus 135 Otto IV, Holy Roman Emperor 167–8 Our Lady of Einsiedeln 102 Our Lady of Le Puy 42 Oviedo Cathedral 44, 236 Oxford Relics Cluster 26 Pachymeres, George 247 Pact of Melfi of 1059 151 Palazzo, Éric 17 Pancratius, Saint 43 Paris, Matthew 67 Parry, Jonathan 68 Passover 71 Past and Present (journal) 4 Patrene, Saint 137 Patter, Félix 50 Paulinus of Nola 231 Pavace, Saint 137 Payá y Rico, Miguel, Archbishop 110–13, 115–20 Pecia (Deuffic, ed.) 12 Pelagius of Asturias, King 236 Pérez de Herrera, Cristóbal 103

Peter, King of Hungary 139 Peter of Capua, Cardinal 156 Peter of Pavia, legate of Alexander III 44 Peter, Saint 17, 147 Philes, Manuel 247 Philip I, Count of Flanders 44–5, 52 Philip II Augustus, King of France 52 Philippe of Alsace, Count of Flanders 133, 140 Philipp of Heinsberg 166 Philipp of Swabia 168 Philip, Saint 48 Piacenza Pilgrim 234 Piano, Renzo 3 pignoribus sanctorum, De (Guibert) 23 pilgrimages: Camino de Santiago 2, 92, 99, 100, 101; effects of thefts of relics on 139–40; Holy Cross in Jerusalem 231; internalization of 190; Kievan Caves Monastery 214; relic shrines in Russia 203–15; relics of Saint Simeon 207–15; to Santiago de Compostela 92–104; sites of martyrs 190–1, 194; as “spiritual medicine for heretical poison” 182; to Three Holy Kings 171–2 pilgrim badges 172 Pilgrims and Pilgrimages as Peacemakers in Christianity, Judaism and Islam (Pazos) 22 Pio of Pietrelcina, Padre 3 Pippinus, King of Italy and of the Lombards 136 plague 69, 71, 92, 94, 96, 100, 118 Pole, Reginald 184 Pompey (Roman general) 81 Popkonstantinov, K. 253–4 Portocarrero, Juan D. Fernández, Abbot of Villafranca 103 prikladyvanie 207 Procopius 226 Protasius, Saint 166 Prou, Maurice 85 Prudentius, Aurelius Clemens 41 Prudentius, Saint 140 Quiteria, Saint 48 Radulphe, Saint 44 Rainald of Dassel, Archbishop of Cologne 164–7, 171 Ralph of Diss 69 Ramsey, Christopher 255 Raoul of Drachy 137

Index Reading Abbey: foundation of 65–7; hand of Saint James 43, 67–74; miracle stories 69–72 refuge of the poor, The (Pérez de Herrera) 103 Régimbert, Abbot of Echternach 20 reinventio 5, 109, 116–20 Relation S. Jacobi 46 relics: anthropological approach 26; arguments and pretexts used to appropriate 131–4; art history approach 25; authenticity of 20–3, 25, 63, 175, 205; belonging to Virgin Mary 67; Carolingian regulations 24; of Christ 19; cult of 2, 21, 23–4; dispersion of 20–1; field of research 24–6; as form of “portable Christianity” 194; fragmentation of 20–1; historical approach 25; interdisciplinary approach 26; international survey 12–14; legal definition of 24; literary sources 25–6; places for preserving 14–18; politicization of 3, 21–2; practice for displaying 17; purposes 4; regulations prohibiting sale of 24, 63, 146–7; role as mediator 12–13; theology of 24; as tokens of ideological deviance 190–1; traffic in 182; translation of 24; treasuries 13, 14; types 11, 18–19; uses of 2–4; wood of gallows 191; see also thefts of relics “Relics and Remains” (Walsham) 4 “Relics @ the Lab” (workshop) 26 reliquaries 4, 14–18, 26, 44, 207, 210, 230, 250–2 reliques des saints, Les (HerrmannMascard) 23 reliques et de leur bon usage, Des (Boussel) 18 Reliques (Vauchez) 3 Reliquienauthentiken (conference) 25 Remigius, Apostle of the Franks, Saint 16–17 representative relics 11 res sacrae 24 res spirituales 24 Reuter, Timothy 63 Revue des Pyrénées (Cardaillac) 82 Rey Castelao, Ofelia 5 Richard I, King of England 70, 73 Richard, King of Francia 137 Richarius, Saint 15 Ritual of Saint Vaast 46

271

rituals 17 Robert of Torigni, Abbot of the Abbey at Mont Saint-Michel 165 Röckelein, Hedwig 13 Roger Borsa, Norman Duke of Apulia and Calabria 151, 153 Roger II of Sicily, King 147 Roger of Howden 66 Roland (Frankish military leader) 79–80, 87 Romanos I, Byzantine Emperor 230 Romanos II, Byzantine Emperor 230 Roman Rite 22 Roman Way 80–1 Roncesvalles: archaeological findings 79–86; documents on church and hospital 79; excavations of Ibañeta 83–8; hospital in 100; as martyrial site 78–80; as reliquary 4; Roman Way 80–1 Royal Decree of 1540 103 Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage 26 Rupert of the Palatinate, King of Germany 168 Sacred Congregation of Rites 22, 115–16 Sainte-Chapelle 52, 54 Sainte-Reine shrine 102 Saint-Gilles-du-Gard 42 Saint-Jacques (Bardon de Brun) 96 Saint-Jacques de Calahons Chapel 53 Saint-Martin-des-Champs Priory 42 Saint Oswald Chapel 192 Saint Peter’s Basilica 186, 227, 229 saints et les stars, Les (Schmitt) 22 Saint Symphorian Church 134 Saintuaire (colloquium) 25 Saladin, Sultan of Egypt 228 Sánchez Freire, Timoteo 114 Sancho Garcés, King of Pamplona 87 San Clemente, Juan de 94 Sanclemente, Juan de 117 San Giovanni Rotondo 3 Santa Sofia 149 Santiago de Compostela: actions of modern state on pilgrimages 103–4; archaeological and historical analysis 113–15; archaeological discovery 113; archaeological excavation of 1878–9 111–12; Archbishop Miguel Payá y Rico 110–13, 115–20; archbishops 95; Cathedral 95; Cathedral Chapter 95–6; Chapel of

272

Index

Music 95; figures were involved in excavations 112–13; hiding of relics 97; injunction against Cathedral 97; legal proceedings on archaeological discovery 115–16; pilgrimages 92–8, 101–4; as pilgrimage shrine 4–5; population of 94; reinventio 5, 109, 116–19; Royal Hospital 93–4; search of bones of Saint James 109–10; tomb of Saint James 1, 4, 41; Voto de Santiago 95 Scandinavia 13 Schaafhausen, Hermann 173 Schmitt, Jean-Claude 19, 22 Scholastica, Saint 26, 148 Schroeder, Hannes 254, 256 Sebastian, Saint 43 Sekeles, E. 234 Selassie, Haile, Emperor of Ethiopia 168 Sennes, Archbishop of Capua 140 Sens Cathedral 53 Seraphim of Sarov, Saint 215 Sergius I, Pope 227 Sergius of Radonezh, Saint 210, 212, 214 Short Rule of Good Life (Southwell) 190 shrines: Abbey of Saint-Denis 52; Basilica of Saint-Remi 17; Basilica of Saint-Sernin 44, 48–51, 49; in Burgundy 93; Church of SaintVanne 17; Cologne Cathedral 166–74; dedicated to Virgin Mary 92–3; defacement 181; of English Catholic community 189; “forgotten shrines” 194; Ibañeta chapel 86; in Lorraine 93; miniature household 189; offerings that paid to 5; opening by archaeologists 12; of Our Lady of Einsiedeln 102; pious remembrance and 1; of Rouen 17; Sainte-Reine 102; of Saint Martial 22; of Saint Simeon of Verkhoturye 203–15; of Saint Ursula 182; of Saint Waltrude (Waudru) 22; Santiago de Compostela 5; of Thomas Becket 183–5, 187, 194 Sicard of Benevento, Prince 150 Sico, Prince of Benevento 149 Sigismund of Luxemburg, King of Germany 168 Sigurd I Magnusson of Norway 228 Simeon of Verkhoturye, Saint: exhumation 204–6; pilgrimage to museum 211–13; pilgrimage to

returned relics 213–15; pilgrimage to (un)sealed relics 207–11 Simon, Saint 48 Society of Jesus 92 Soffredo of Santa Prassede, Cardinal 156 Solomon, King of Israel 166 Song of Roland (poem) 79–80, 83, 87 Sorbonne 25 Southwell, Robert 189, 190 Spanish hospitals 100–1 Stafford, Pauline 66 Stapleton, Thomas 186 staurotheke 230 Stavelot altar 16 Stephen, Abbot of Saint James of Liège 134 Stephen III of Naples 150 Stephen of Blois, King of England 67, 68 Stephen of Muret, Saint 17 Stiennon, Jacques 20 Suárez Otero, José 13 Sureda i Jubany, Marc 13 Symmachus, Pope 229 Tabula Apostolorum 52 Templars 50 Teresa of Ávila, Saint 5, 98 Teresa of Portugal 44 Theban Legion (Legendary saints) 20 thefts of relics: Alexandre 138; arguments and pretexts used to appropriate relics 131–4, 147–8; Constantinople 140, 156–7; effects on pilgrimages 139–40; Gorgonius 136; head of Saint James 133, 139; interventions by the secular powers 137–8; Ireland 13; methods used 134–7; Monte Cassino 140; political rivalry 149; pretext of relics’ neglected worship 133–4; prevented and punished 139; quarrels over the right to possess relics 131–3; questions of legitimacy 137–9; removal of relics by force 132, 137, 149; ruse 134–5; as sacrilege 140; Saint Acca 139; Saint Adalhard 136–7; Saint Agatha 138–9; Saint Auctor 138; Saint Benedict 148; Saint Berlinda 138; Saint Carilefus 136; Saint Colomannus 139; Saint Dionysius 134; Saint Evroul 137; Saint Fides 134; Saint Foy 139; Saint Fursey 132–3; Saint Genovefa 139;

Index Saint Januarius 150; Saint Justus 137; Saint Magloire 136; Saint Maianus 134–5; Saint Martin 131–2, 139; Saint Modoald 134; Saint Nicholas 151–6; Saint Patrene 137; Saint Pavace 137; Saint Prudentius 133–4; Saint Scholastica 148; Saint Vincent 134; secret 135; in southern Italy 146–57; supernatural legitimatization 138–9; Three Holy Kings 164–75; Trofimena 150; Twelve Holy Brothers 149; unlawful retention 136–7 Thefts of Relics (Brown and Geary) 13 Theodore, Saint 249 Thibaud (Tetbaldus), Count of Blois 137 Thiofrid, Abbot of Echternach 23 Thomas (monk) 73 Thomas, “thy servant of God” 257 Three Holy Kings (Magi/Wise Men) 164–75 Tikhon of Moscow, Patriarch 210 Titulus Crucis 228, 236 Tobie, J.-L. 80 tombs 11 Topor (cartoonist) 18 Torsy, J. 13 Toto, camerarius of Bishop of Vienne 138 Tower of Elahbe 174 Translatio corporis Sancti Andree apostoli (Matthew) 156 Translatio Ianuarii, Festi et Desiderii (anonymous author) 150 treasuries 13, 14 Treatise on Relics (Calvin) 22 Treaty of Arras of 1191 43 Tres Thomae (Stapleton) 186 Trinidad dei Pellegrini 96 Trisagion 18 Trofimena from Maiori (martyr) 150 Turin Shroud 19 Twelve Holy Brothers 149 Twelve Peers of France 83 University of Heidelberg 25 University of Rouen 25 unlawful retention 136–7 Urban II, Pope 154, 227–8 Urraca of Castile, Queen 47 Ursone, Bishop of Bari and Canosa 151–3

273

Ursula, Saint 182 Usuard of Saint-Germain-des- Prés 41 Vaast, Saint 44 vagrancy 103–4 Valerian, Emperor of the Roman Empire 149 Valley of Charles (Vallis Caroli/ Valcarlos) 80, 87 Vauchez, André 3 Vaux, Anne 187 Vázquez de Parga, L. 83, 85–6 Vega y Verdugo, José de 95 Vendôme tear 5 Veronica (vera icon (“true image”)) 19 Verstegan, Richard 188 Vincent, Saint 134 Virgin Mary 19–20, 67, 92 von Harff, Arnold 50 Voto de Santiago 95 Vuolvinus (goldsmith) 17 Wagner, Anne 15 Walsham, Alexandra 4 Waltrude (Waudru), Saint 22 Wars of Religion 13 wealth 3, 63, 66, 73, 136 Webster, Wentworth 82 Weston, William 190 White Ship disaster 66 Wibald, Abbot of Stavelot and Malmedy 18–19 Willerslev, Eske 254 William II (William Rufus), King of England 64 William (lame boy of Reading) 73 William Longsword, Duke of Normandy 137 William of Aquitaine, Duke 41 William of Malmesbury 64 William the Templar 73 Wiseman, Jane 190 Wittekind, Suzanne 18 Wyclif, John 183 Yelverton, Henry 191 Ysembela (disabled Kentish woman) 73 Zebedee 41, 42, 50, 52, 54, 117 Zias, J. 234