THE SHRINE OF ST. EDMUND
In the year of grace one thousand one hundred and ninety-eight, the
glorious martyr Edmund was pleased to strike terror into our convent,
and to instruct us that his body should be kept more reverently and
diligently than it had hitherto been.
There was a wooden platform between the shrine and the high altar,
whereon stood two tapers, which the keepers of the shrine used to
renew and stick together, by placing one candle upon the stump of
another in a slovenly manner. Under this platform there were many
things irreverently huddled together, such as flax and thread and wax,
and various utensils. In fact, whatever was used by the keepers of the
shrine was put there, for there was a door with iron gratings.
Now, when these keepers of the shrine were fast asleep, on the night
of St. Etheldreda, part of a candle that had been renewed, and was
still burning, fell, as we conjecture, upon the aforesaid platform
covered with rags. Consequently, all that was near, above or below,
began to burn rapidly, so much so that the iron gratings were at a
white heat. And lo! the wrath of the Lord was kindled, but not without
mercy, according to that saying, "In wrath remember mercy"; for just
then the clock struck before the hour of matins, and the master of the
vestry getting up, observed and noticed the fire. He ran at once, and,
striking the gong as if for a dead person, cried at the top of his
voice that the shrine was consumed by fire.
We then, all running thither, found the fire raging wonderfully, and
encircling the whole shrine, and almost reaching the woodwork of the
church. Our young men, running for water, some to the well, some to
the clock, some with their hoods, not without great labour,
extinguished the force of the fire, and also stripped some of the
altars upon the first alarm. And when cold water was poured upon the
front of the shrine, the stones fell, and were reduced almost to
powder. Moreover, the nails by which the plates of silver were affixed
to the shrine started from the wood, which had been burnt underneath
to the thickness of my finger, and the plates of silver were left
dangling one from the other without nails. However, the golden image
of the Majesty in front of the shrine, together with some of the
stonework, remained firm and untouched, and brighter after the fire
than it was before, for it was all of gold.
It so happened, by the will of the Highest, that at that time the
great beam which used to be over the altar had been removed, in order
to be adorned with new carving. It also happened that the cross, the
small image of St. Mary and St. John, the chest with the shirt of St.
Edmund, and the reliquaries and other shrines which used to hang from
the same beam, and other holy things which also stood upon the beam,
had every one of them been previously taken away. Otherwise all these
would have been burnt, as we believe, even as a painted cloth was
burnt which hung in the place of this beam. But what would it have
been had the church been curtained?
When, therefore, we had assured ourselves that the fire had in no
place penetrated the shrine, by carefully inspecting the chinks and
crannies, if there were any, and had perceived that all was cold, our
grief in a great measure abated: but all at once some of our brethren
cried out with a great wailing, that the cup of St. Edmund had been
burnt. When many of us were searching here and there for the stones
and plates among the coals and cinders, they drew forth the cup
entirely uninjured, lying in the middle of the great charred timbers,
which were then put out, and found the same wrapped up in a linen
cloth, half burnt. But the oaken box in which the cup was usually
placed had been burnt to ashes, and only the iron bands and iron lock
were found. When we saw this miracle, we all wept for joy.
Now, as we observed that the greater part of the front of the shrine
was stripped off, and abhorring the disgraceful circumstances of the
fire, after a general consultation we sent for a goldsmith, and caused
the metal plates to be joined together and fixed to the shrine without
the least delay, to avoid the scandal of the matter. We also caused
all traces of the fire to be covered over with wax or in some other
way. But the Evangelist testifies that "there is nothing covered which
shall not be revealed": for some pilgrims came very early in the
morning to make their offerings, who could have perceived nothing of
the sort. Nevertheless, certain of them, peering about, inquired where
was the fire that they had just heard had been about the shrine. And
since it could not be entirely concealed, it was answered to these
inquirers that a candle had fallen down and that three napkins had
been burnt, and that by the heat of the fire some of the stonework in
front of the shrine had been destroyed. Yet for all this there went
forth a lying rumour, that the head of the saint had been burnt. Some
indeed contented themselves with saying that the hair only was singed;
but afterwards, the truth being known, "the mouth of them that spake
lies was stopped."
All these things came to pass by God's providence, in order that the
places round about the shrine of His saint should be more decently
kept, and that the purpose of the lord abbot should be sooner and
without delay carried into execution; which was, that the shrine
itself, together with the body of the holy martyr, should be placed
with greater security, and with more pomp, in a more dignified
position. For before this aforesaid mishap occurred, the cresting of
the shrine was half finished, and the marble blocks whereon the shrine
was to be elevated and was to rest, were for the most part ready and
polished.
The abbot, who at this time was absent, was exceedingly grieved at
these reports; and he on his return home, going into the
chapter-house, declared that these and the like, nay, much greater
perils might befall us for our sins, more especially for our grumbling
about our meat and drink; in a certain measure turning the blame upon
the whole body of the convent, rather than upon the avarice and
carelessness of the keepers of the shrine. To the intent that he might
induce us to abstain from our pittances for at least one year, and to
apply, for at least a year, the rents of the pittancy, for the purpose
of repairing the front of the shrine with pure gold, he himself first
showed us an example of liberality by giving all the treasure of gold
he possessed, namely, fifteen golden rings, worth, as it was believed,
sixty marks, in our presence, towards the reparation of the shrine.
We, on the other hand, all agreed to give our pittancy for such
purpose; but our resolution was afterwards altered, by the sacrist
saying that St. Edmund could very well repair his shrine without such
assistance.
At this time there came a man of great account, but who he was I know
not, that related to the abbot a vision he had seen, whereat he
himself was much moved. Indeed, he related the same in full chapter,
with a very bitter speech. "It is indeed true," he said, "that a
certain great man has seen a vision, to wit, that he saw the holy
martyr St. Edmund lie outside his shrine, and with groans say that he
was despoiled of his clothes, and was wasted away by hunger and
thirst; and that his churchyard and the courts of his church were
negligently kept."
This dream the abbot expounded to us all publicly, laying the blame
upon us, in this fashion: "St. Edmund alleges that he is naked,
because you defraud the naked poor of your old clothes, and because
you give with reluctance what you are bound to give them, and it is
the same with your meat and drink. Moreover, the idleness and
negligence of the sacrist and his associates, are apparent from the
recent misfortune by fire which has taken place between the shrine and
the altar." On hearing this the convent was very sorrowful; and after
chapter several of the brethren met together, and interpreted the
dream after this fashion: "We," said they, "are the naked members of
St. Edmund, and the convent is his naked body; for we are despoiled of
our ancient customs and privileges. The abbot has everything, the
chamberlainship, the sacristy, the cellary; while we perish of hunger
and thirst, because we have not our victuals, save by the clerk of the
abbot and by his ministration. If the keepers of the shrine have been
negligent, let the abbot lay it to his own charge, for it was he who
appointed such careless fellows."
In such wise spoke many in the convent. But when this interpretation
of the dream was communicated to the abbot, in the forest of Harlow,
on his way from London, he was very wroth, and was troubled in mind,
and made answer: "They will wrest that dream against me, will they? By
the face of God! so soon as I reach home I will restore to them the
customs that they say are theirs. I will withdraw my clerk from the
cellary, and will leave them to themselves; and I shall see the fruits
of their wisdom at the end of the year. This year I have been residing
at home, and I have caused their cellary to be managed without
incurring debt; and this is the way in which they render me thanks."
On the abbot's return home, having it in purpose to translate the
blessed martyr, he humbled himself before God and man, meditating
within himself how he might reform himself, and make himself at peace
with all men, especially with his own convent. Therefore, sitting in
chapter, he commanded that a cellarer and sub-cellarer should be
chosen by our common assent, and withdrew his own clerk, saying, that
whatsoever he had done he had done it for our advantage, as he called
God and his saints to witness, and justified himself in various ways.
"Hear, O Heaven!" the things that I speak; "give ear, O earth!" to
what Abbot Samson did. The feast of St. Edmund now approaching, the
marble blocks were polished, and everything made ready for the
elevation of the shrine. The feast day having therefore been kept on a
Friday, a three days' fast was proclaimed on the following Sunday to
the people, and the occasion of the fast was publicly explained. The
abbot also announced to the convent that they should prepare
themselves for transferring the shrine, and placing it upon the high
altar, until the masons' work was finished; and he appointed the time
and the manner for doing this work.
When we had that night come to matins, there stood the great shrine
upon the altar, empty within, adorned with white doeskins above,
below, and round about, which were fixed to the wood by silver nails;
but one panel stood below, by a column of the church, and the sacred
body still lay in its accustomed place. Lauds having been sung, we all
proceeded to take our disciplines. This being performed, the lord
abbot and those with him vested themselves in albs; and approaching
reverently, as it was fit they should, they hastened to uncover the
coffin.
First there was an outer cloth of linen, overwrapping the coffin and
all. This was found tied on the upper side with strings of its own.
Within this was a cloth of silk, and then another linen cloth, and
then a third. And so at last the coffin was uncovered, standing upon a
tray of wood, that the bottom of it might not be injured by the stone.
Affixed to the outside, over the breast of the martyr, lay an angel of
gold, about the length of a man's foot, holding in one hand a golden
sword and in the other a banner. Underneath it, there was a hole in
the lid of the coffin, where the ancient custodians of the martyr had
been wont to lay their hands, for the purpose of touching the sacred
body. And over the figure of the angel was this verse inscribed:--
"Martiris ecce zoma servat Michaelis agalma."
("_Behold the martyr's body St. Michael's image keeps._")
At the two heads of the coffin were iron rings, as there used to be on
Danish chests.
So, raising up the coffin with the body, they carried it to the altar,
and I lent thereto my sinful hand to help in carrying it, although the
abbot had strictly commanded that no one should approach unless he was
called. The coffin was placed within the shrine, and the panel was put
thereon and fastened down.
Now we all began to think that the abbot would exhibit the coffin to
the people on the octave of the feast, and would replace the sacred
body before all of us. But we were sadly deceived, as the sequel will
show; for on Wednesday, while the convent was singing compline, the
abbot spoke with the sacrist and Walter the physician, and it was
resolved that twelve brethren should be appointed who were strong
enough to carry the panels of the shrine, and skilful in fixing and
unfixing them.
The abbot then said that it had been the object of his prayers to see
his patron saint, and that he wished to join with him the sacrist and
Walter the physician when he looked upon him; and there were also
nominated the abbot's two chaplains, the two keepers of the shrine,
and the two keepers of the vestry, with six others, Hugh the sacrist,
Walter the physician, Augustine, William of Diss, Robert and Richard.
The convent being all asleep, these twelve vested themselves in albs,
and drawing the coffin out of the shrine, carried and placed it upon a
table near where the shrine used to be, and commenced unfastening the
lid, which was joined and fixed to the coffin with sixteen very long
iron nails. When, with considerable difficulty, they had performed
this, all were ordered to go further away, except the two forenamed
associates.
Now the coffin was so filled with the sacred body, both in length and
width, that even a needle could hardly be put between the head and the
wood or between the feet and the wood. The head lay united to the
body, somewhat raised by a small pillow. The abbot, looking
attentively, next found a silk cloth veiling the whole body, and then
a linen cloth of wondrous whiteness, and upon the head a small linen
cloth, and after that another small and very fine silken cloth, as if
it had been the veil of some nun. Lastly, they discovered the body,
wound round with a linen cloth, and then it was that all the
lineaments of the saint's body were laid open to view.
At this point the abbot stopped, saying he durst not proceed further,
or view the holy body naked. Taking the head between his hands, he
sighed and spoke thus: "Glorious martyr, St. Edmund, blessed be the
hour wherein thou wast born! Glorious martyr, turn not my boldness to
my perdition, for that I, miserable sinner, do touch thee, for thou
knowest my devotion and my intention!" And proceeding, he touched the
eyes and the nose, which was very massive and prominent. Then he
touched the breast and arms, and raising the left arm, he touched the
fingers, and placed his own fingers between the fingers of the saint.
Proceeding further, he found the feet standing stiff up, like the feet
of a man who had died that day, and he touched the toes, and in
touching counted them.
It was then proposed that the other brethren should be called forward,
in order that they might see these wonders; and six, being thus
called, approached, and also six other brethren with them, who had
stolen in without the abbot's assent, and saw the saint's body,
namely, Walter of St. Alban's, Hugh the infirmarer, Gilbert the
brother of the prior, Richard of Hingham, Jocell the cellarer, and
Thurstan the little, who alone put forth his hand, and touched the
feet and knees of the saint. And the Most High so ordering it, that
there might be abundance of witnesses, one of our brethren, John of
Diss, sitting upon the roof of the church with the servants of the
vestry, saw all these things plainly enough.
All this being done, the lid was fastened down on the coffin with the
same, and with the same number of nails, and in like manner as before,
the martyr being covered up with the same cloths and in the same order
as he was when first discovered. Finally, the coffin was placed in the
accustomed place, and there was put upon the coffin, near to the
angel, a certain silken bag, wherein was deposited a schedule written
in English, containing certain salutations of Ailwin the monk, as is
believed, which schedule was found close by the golden angel when the
coffin was uncovered. By the abbot's order, there was forthwith
written another short memorandum, also deposited in the same bag, in
the following form of words: "In the year of the incarnation of our
Lord, 1198, the abbot Samson, upon the impulse of devotion, saw and
touched the body of St. Edmund on the night after the feast of St.
Catherine, these being witnesses." And thereto were subscribed the
names of the eighteen monks.
The brethren also wound the whole coffin up in a suitable linen cloth,
and over the same placed a new and most valuable silken cloth, which
Hubert, Archbishop of Canterbury, had offered at the shrine that very
year, and they placed lengthwise a certain linen cloth doubled under
it and next to the stone, to prevent the coffin or the tray whereon it
stood from being injured by the stone. Afterwards the panels were
brought forth, and properly joined together on the shrine.
When the convent assembled to sing matins, and understood what had
been done, all who had not seen these things were very sorrowful,
saying among themselves, "We have been sadly deceived." However, after
matins had been sung, the abbot called the convent to the high altar,
and briefly recounting what had been done, alleged that he ought not
to call--and could not call--all of them to be present on such an
occasion. Hearing this, with tears we sang "Te Deum laudamus," and
hastened to ring the bells in the choir.
On the fourth day after, the abbot deposed the keepers of the shrine
and the keeper of St. Botolph, appointing new ones, and establishing
rules, so that the holy places should be more carefully and diligently
kept. He also caused the great altar, which heretofore was hollow, and
wherein many things were irreverently stowed away, and that space
which was between the shrine and the altar, to be made solid with
stone and cement, so that no danger from fire could arise by the
negligence of the keepers, as had been already the case; according to
the saying of the wise man, who said,
"Happy is he who learns caution from the danger of others."