Embedded Files
Volume 2 | Issue 6 - Travel
Article by Simon Lax. Edited by Liz Goodwin. Additional research by Helen Midgley.
Considering the egregious injury done to me in the last edit of my previous article after it had passed beyond my control, I am once again obligated to decry the tyranny at the highest level of the New Histories autocracy. What had been a paragraph detailing colourfully, but accurately, the power-mad dictatorship and its relationship with its medieval writer contingent was edited down to a mere two sentences, the majority of which praised the ‘Nero-esque tyrants’ who masquerade as the absurdly pompously named ‘Editors-in-chief’ [Redacted this time, one wonders?]. Another thing is now therefore known to those of us who care about freedom of expression: censorship is another of the methods these crazed exarchs will use to control the discourse within this magazine. I will not consider any further the clear and present similarity between the need to alter articles to praise the Dear Leaders, and some strange mentally-onanistic tendencies that seem to be at the least suggested by their pathological need for constant praise. Hopefully the arrival of my good friend, the distinguished Jacob Harrison-Beaumont in this issue of New Histories will aid the medievalist cause and prevent further encroachments on my patience.
Constant praise was certainly a theme in miracula of the early middle ages: the various saints’ cults expected significant offerings from their followers, and even more so as the period went on. Pilgrimage is one of the most important reasons for travel throughout medieval, and in fact human, history. Consider: if an alien were to see the earth, the first indication it would have of continued human existence on our little blue dot in the cosmos would be the assembly of humans at the Ganges, and the Hajj. Nothing else brings people together in the same way or in the same numbers. In the early middle ages pilgrimage came within the remit of the Carolingian Renaissance, a period of writing and reform at the turn of the 8th/9th century. This empire, under Charlemagne and his sons, and known after 800 as the Holy Roman Empire, was full of religious zeal, converting Saxons, building huge cathedrals, and establishing several new monasteries. Regarding the religious architectural element of this ‘renaissance’, several of the nobles at the Carolingian courts endowed new church buildings, creating a legacy entwining their own family within the (generally monastic) tradition. One of these nobles was called Einhard, our main source for the life of Charlemagne, and a major player in the court intrigues of his day. Perhaps spurred by his guilty conscience, he established some monasteries, churches and basilicae, some of which still remain. The most impressive, to my mind, is the Church of Sts. Marcellinus and Peter in modern day Seligenstadt. As usual in these articles, my intention is not to present an argument so much as to offer some of the things I think show us something interesting about medieval life. To aid in the journey, this map holds all of the locations I’ll be talking about (all credit to Ms. Hannah Probert).
Firstly, the establishment of the cult was heavily planned, and far more unseemly than the Wikipedia entry suggesting that ‘[the relics] were sent by Pope Gregory IV to Einhard’ suggests. Einhard sent his servant to Rome, along with a professional relic-procurer. Once in Rome, the pair went to the tomb of Marcellinus and Peter (re-discovered quite recently, and rather spectacular). Finding the bodies well-guarded, they returned late at night, broke in, scooped the bones of the martyrs into some bags and vacated the city rapidly. This is far from the only example of relic theft: the theological justification was that if the saints did not approve of being stolen, they would have organized a miracle to punish the wrongdoer. The lack of holy lightning bolts therefore suggested that they approved. Given that these thefts had already occurred, popes tended to retroactively agree to gift the relics to the Holy Roman Empire which offered political power and military might that protected the Pope’s spiritual authority. Given that this system worked perfectly well for all concerned, whilst also providing a good opening miracle upon which to build a miracle cult, the theological contortions remained as long as it made practical sense.
Secondly, the relics were processed to their destination. The procession of relics was a key advertising tool, and is really quite different from the sedentary model of relics that we mainly get from the central and late middle ages, or to apportion blame more fairly, Geoffrey Chaucer and the Canterbury Tales. St. Augustine did it in the 5th century for different reasons: for him, it was to galvanise the Catholic populations against the Donatists. For Einhard, it was a calling card that a new cult was in town, and that people who needed miracles could come to the new shrine (to a large degree, healing miracles stood in place of doctors in the early middle ages). The miracles that occurred en route only built up the cult, and gave extra credence to the advertising claims. They stopped in some locations (Ostheim being named), and then passed to their intended resting place in Michelstadt (probably in this Basilica). A few terrifying apparitions and scared monks later, Einhard decided that the saints really wanted to be in the town he had founded at Mulinheim, now called Seligenstadt.
Thirdly, having established a solid miracle base in Seligenstadt, Einhard decided that he could expand his cult. He outsourced some of the relics to monasteries established in nearby cities (Maastricht, Ghent, and Valenciennes) and dedicated to different saints (Servais, Baaf, and Salvius). Frustratingly, the actual mechanics of which relics were sent is left unrecorded, but I’ve always had a vision of the monks in Valenciennes receiving a finger in the post... The monasteries sent back reports of which miracles had occurred, and the similarity in style between these three accounts suggests either that Einhard had sent a checklist of things he wished to know, or that he sent formularies to be copied and filled in. This was a highly literate and centralised monastic society, which Einhard controlled from a position of power at the very edges of the Carolingian Empire.
What is truly astonishing about all of this is that the cult went from Rome to Valenciennes in less time than it would take an undergraduate to complete their degree. The speed with which it spread, and its hold on the local population, was probably the most miraculous thing about it.
*****
Charlemagne (c. 747 – c. 814) was the King of the Franks and ruler of Western Europe. He inherited the throne from his father Pepin the Short. In 800, Charlemagne defeated a rebellion against Pope Leo III, who in thanks crowned him on Christmas day Emperor of the Romans, which legitimised his rule over his Italian territories and gave him unprecedented prestige and recognition.
Einhard (c. 770 – c. 840) was a Frankish historian who commented contemporaneously on the reign of Charlemagne.
His talent was recognised and in 791 he was sent to Charlemagne’s palace in Aachen where he became a trusted servant of the king. His writings are priceless for a study of Charlemagne.
Pope Gregory IV was pontiff during the break up of the Charlemagne kingdom by the political machinations of his son and grandsons Louis, and Lothair I, Pepin and Louis the German. Pope Gregory IV tried to reconcile the family but was largely ignored. Gregory died in 844
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