Bishop Bartholomew and the Burgled Bones

 In the 1120s, Bishop William Warelwast and of the (secular) canons of Bodmin, Algar, refounded the community at Bodmin as an Augustinian priory.  The first prior was a canon of Merton, Guy - although he didn't last long.  On his way to see Warelwast, his horse bolted and he fell into a pit and died of internal injuries - with Algar and Geoffrey of Plympton touchingly at his bedside.

The Augustinian house at Bodmin was founded as the Priory of  St Mary and St Petroc.  Most Augustinian houses were dedicated to Mary, and since its first prior came from the Priory of St Mary, Merton, it's hardly surprising to see the BVM there.  St Petroc was a native, a sixth-century Cornish saint, and he founded a monastery at Bodmin, which eventually became a college of secular canons.  His relics had been there time out of mind.

In the 1170s, one of the canons, Martin, fell out with the prior - so much so that in 1176, he nicked the bones and absconded to Brittany, giving them to the  monks of  Saint-Meen.  These monks didn't know that the bones had been pinched (they probably didn't inquire too much) - they saw it as divin providence, especially when miracles starting happening.  The Bodmin canons were unaware of anything remiss until Robert Torigny, abbot of Mont Saint-Michel, heard about a new shrine to St Petroc, and told his friend Bartholomew, bishop  of Exeter (pictured, right).  Bartholomew assembled a committee of abbots and  priors to investigate, and the prior of Bodmin sent out a scout to locate St Petroc.

Each side then brought bigger guns in. Martin went to Roland of Dinan, regent of Brittany, and argued that since Petroc was happily residing in Brittany, he could be used as backing for Geoffrey of Brittany becoming Earl of Cornwall, to replace his recently-deceased half-brother.  Bartholomew, on the other hand, went to Geoffrey's father, Henry II - who issued letters requiring the Breton monks to give Petroc back to the Cornish canons.  These letters went out via Walter of Coutances (nb. Coutances is where Algar became bishop of), Keeper of the Great Seal.  Walter, born in Cornwall, was thrilled Henry was on the canons' side, and got the letters out pronto.  Clutching them, he bumped into an itinerant cripple, with an ivory casket for sale.  Taking this as a sign, Walter bought the casket and presented both letters and casket to Prior Roger, who duly set off to Brittany.

With regret, the monks of Saint-Meen gave up the relics, and Roger put them in the casket - miraculously, just the right size.  Roger returned to England, meeting Bartholomew at Exeter, and then progressing formally with him through Devon and Cornwall, back to Bodmin, where a new shrine was constructed to house the relics, dedicated by Bartholomew (who also granted an indulgence to help fund the shrine).

The casket is Sicilian-Arabic - and itself could tell a tale.  You can see it, and Bodmin's spectacular font from around the same time, here.

Further reading:  Pinder-Wilson, R.H. and Brooke, C.N.L., 'The Reliquary of St. Petroc and the Ivories of Norman Sicily', Archaeologia, Volume 104 (1973), pp. 261-305.

The Miracles of Merton Priory

 There weren't any.  There were no saints attached to it.  But miraculous things did happen.  When Gilbert the founder's tomb was moved, his body was found to be intact.  The canon Guy, sent to set up communities at Taunton and Bodmin, cured the prior with prayer - and calmed storms with prayer, too.  (When he died, the cloak to wrap his body in was too small; a bigger one appeared as if by miracle.  This is really quite a weedy miracle, though.)  In Heales' transcript of the cartulary is also a story about William Giffard, Bishop of Winchester.  He was on his way to Merton in 1114, which at that point was a collection of wooden buildings, to consecrate the cemetry, when

'he met a certain boy, condemned for theft, to be deprived of his eyesight; whereupon the Bishop, with the intervention of his pastoral staff, rescued him from the imminent peril; by which deed therefore he foreshadowed that in the place which he came to consecrate many should be rescued from the darkness of vice, and be brought by the power of discipline to the light of justice.'

I rather like the scene of Giffard with his super-hero's crozier.

Giffard founded Taunton, having asked Prior Robert for a man of unbending morality whom he could have as prior there.

I also like the fact that what's left of Taunton Priory is now a cricket museum.

Thomas, Hubert and their Merton habits

 When Thomas Becket's corpse was being prepared for burial, 'it was found', says John of Salisbury (quite possibly an eye witness), 'that it was wrapped in a hair-shirt crawling with lice and worms, and furthermore..., his underclothes, right down to his knees, were made of hair-cloth.'

Rather him than me.

Mortification of the flesh was fashionable amongst 12th-century ascetics.  Guy of Merton (d.1124) 'persecuted his flesh as if is were a dreadful enemy'.  For Cistercians, lice and mites were a badge of honour.

Generally, Augustinians were a bit cleaner.  Being more moderate - except the aforementioned Guy - they didn't really go in for tremendous discomfort.  The same Life of Guy notes that he would meet a harsh Somerset winter with 'only his tunic under a thin cape, with no woollen mantle.'  You wouldn't catch the author of the Life doing that.

According to the Barnwell observances, their canons, at least, had two uniforms, summer and winter.  The summer was a surplice, linen breeches, short leather hose, leather shoes, serge leggings, and a woollen cape.  In winter, they had either thick tunic or a lambskin cassock (oooooh), a lambskin to repair their choir cloak, a pair of felted boots, a pair of leggings, and two pairs of cloth shoes.  Presumably they also had leather shoes or boots for outdoor wear.

As Austin houses were independent, the uniformity of the uniform could be a problem, as Fizzard explains in 'Shoes, boots and leggings'.

Thomas Becket, on being elected archbishop of Canterbury, took on the habit of a Merton canon.  We're not quite sure what that means, as we don't know how different the habit of a Merton canon was from any other house.  But it's interesting, nonetheless.  Also interesting is that when Hubert Walter was elected to the same post, he also took on a Merton habit.  This was, of course, pinning his colours to Becket's mast, and Hubert also stopped using a gem in his counterseal and started using an image of the martyrdom of Thomas Becket.

Thomas Becket had a close relationship with Merton - one that is perhaps closer than official documents relate.  You can't get much closer than some linen next to the skin.  If it were full of mites, I suppose you could say that it got under his skin.

Bleurgh. 

One monk and his dog

Toby the Collie is a favourite with visitors to
Merton Priory today.

 

At Merton there is archaeological evidence of both dogs and cats in the Priory. The 1387 visitation by Bishop William Wykeham chastised the canons for keeping hunting dogs, and indeed for hunting with them. 

Regulars (nuns, monks, canons) weren't supposed to keep dogs (or cats or any other pets). At Whitby Abbey, no dogs were to be allowed in the claustral buildings, and if a dog got in, it was to be caught and told off (probably beaten). Various bishops' visitations castigate regulars for keeping pets. In the Merton case, canons shouldn't keep hunting dogs because they shouldn't be hunting. And if male canons shouldn't be hunting, then certainly female nuns shouldn't. In 1338, Bishop Northburgh told off Alice, prioress of Whiteladies in Shropshire, for keeping hunting dogs. I love the idea of nuns on a hunt.

A miller's dog from the Luttrell Psalter

Dogs and cats in the Middle Ages were chiefly kept to be useful - as vermin control and as hunting aids. The range of breeds we have now, much wider than in the Middle Ages, shows the change in purpose of dogs and cats, as they have become less necessary for living and more decorative.

Regulars' diet was supposed to be basically vegetarian, with only a little flesh. Food was a problem in keeping pets - if you have to feed your dog or cat on flesh, then you need to be having meat frequently, but you weren't supposed to. (It's interesting, and salutary, to think that our increase in pets nowadays means a vast increase in eating meat - but also that pet numbers increased only because we could eat meat more easily.)

Another reason that regulars shouldn't keep pets is that they were a distraction from divine contemplation, the chief purpose of nuns, monks and canons. Archbishop Greenfield of York wrote to the prioress and subprioress of Swine in 1314 

not to allow dogs to enter the choir during divine service lest the devotion of the women be lessened or divine obsequies impeded.

(Item injungimus priorisse et subpriorisse quod non permittant caniculos intrare chorum tempore divini obsequii si per eos devocionem dominarum subtrahi contigerit vel divinum obsequium impediri.) 

This shows that regulars had pets, and they loved them. Chaucer's portrait of Madam Eglantyne, the prioress in the band of Canterbury pilgrims, is of a soft-hearted animal-lover.

Small hounds had she, that she fed
With roasted flesh, or milk and fine white bread.
But she'd sore weep if one of them were dead,
Or if men smote it with a stick to smart:
And all was pity, and a tender heart.

You can read more about medieval pets here:

• Medieval Pets
  
• Lolcats from the BL
• The history of the cat
• Medieval dogs
  

 

Plants in the Infirmary Garden

All monasteries grew their own medicines.  Excavations at Soutra on the Scottish borders have shown a wide variety of herbs - including opium poppies (which probably weren't grown on the site, preferring a warmer climate than the cold, wet borders).  Soutra was an Augustinian foundation, and it treated all sorts of people and conditions.  Merton's infirmary was large, and might have looked after more than the canons, but in any case, it would have needed a well-stocked infirmary garden.  This was could have been in the infirmary cloister garth, with additional space elsewhere.

There's a detailed plan of the Abbey of St Gall from over 1000 years ago, and it shows both the physic garden and the vegetable garden.  The monks grew sage, watercress, rue, cumin, iris, lovage, pennyroyal, fennel, climbing beans,  pepperwort (cress), costmary, Greek hay (fenugreek),  rosemary, mint, lily and rose.  In the vegetable plot, they had onion, garlic, leek, shallots, celery, parsley, coriander, chervil, dill, lettuce, poppy, pepperwort, radish, parsnip, cabbage, chard and fennel - and more besides.

Excavations at Merton found all the grains one would expect - wheat, rye, barley, oat.  In addition, archaeologists found hazel and walnuts, grapes, plums, apples, raspberries, blackberries, legumes of various sorts, and junipers.  As for herbs, there were lots - from the ubiquitous stinging nettle (traditionally used for rheumatism) to the poisonous henbane (like opium, an anaesthetic/ pain-killer).  One monastic garden had a special enclosed bed for its poisonous herbs, which was kept locked!

Archaeologists also found lots of black mustard seeds.  Black mustard was used as an anti-inflammatory - a cure for back-ache, foot-ache, and lots more.  Mint also grew abundantly - in fact, it was grown so much in the area that one of the best varieties of mint is called Mitcham Black Mint (Mentha X piperita).

Lots of herbs/ wild flowers have medicinal names, like woundwort, also found at Merton.

Good (and Bad) Habits - materials (plants)

There was no polyester or any other plastic material until the 20th century.  Cotton only came into British clothes in the 18th century, when Britain started to trade with (and invade) India in a big way.  Instead, clothes were made of more local materials – linen, hemp, wool, leather, fur.

Linen: 

This is made from flax (linum).  It’s strong and quick-drying – and cool in the summer.  For those reasons, linen is excellent for underwear.  Our canons wore linen breeches and shirts in the summer.

Flax grows all over Europe, and its seeds are used for linseed oil. ret, the stalks for a week or two so that the fibres start to break apart.  Then you dry it.  Then you can work it.  First you stutch the stalks – hit them with a wooden batten.  This breaks up the woody pith so that it can be removed.  Then you comb the fibres – this is called hackling.  Now the fibres are ready to be dressed and spun.

Ireland is the centre of linen production in the British Isles.  Here’s an Irish video on how to make linen.
After it’s been harvested, you have to soak, or
and here’s another, using a water-wheel to drive machinery. 
and here’s how it’s done nowadays.

In the days before machinery, flax took a lot of hours of a lot of people!

Did you know?
The word ‘line’ comes from linen – a linen thread was used to measure the straightness of line.

Hemp

Hemp (cannabis sativa) was processed in the same way.  It is coarser than linen, and it’s amazingly strong.  It was used particularly for making ropes – including the ones that hanged people!




Other plant fibres would have included nettle.  Nettle is processed in a similar way, too, and makes a very good fibre.  Considering the number of nettles we have, and the fact that we've got to stop using plastic, isn't it time we used nettle for our clothes and cordage?



(Nettle is also good to eat.  Here's a recipe for nettle pesto.)

Good (and Bad) Habits - towards a virtual exhibition

  You are what you wear

Clothes are our outer skin.  They are part of how others see us, and how we see ourselves.  They reflect our tastes and our aspirations.  Nowadays we have lots of clothes, because we have all sorts of artificial (plastic) materials and industrial processes which make clothes cheap and available to everyone.

In the Middle Ages, clothes were all of natural materials and made by hand:  they were expensive.  Some clothes were more expensive than others, and it was very easy to tell - just by what your clothes were made of, never mind how they were cut - how rich you were.

In the later Middle Ages, laws were passed forbidding people of lower classes to wear upper class clothes.  By then, the class system was in theory quite rigid - but obviously it wasn't in practice, because otherwise you wouldn't have needed these laws!

For church people clothes were supposed to be simple.  Christ and his disciples lived in poverty so that they could spend money instead on helping others.  Church people were supposed to follow their example.  Because you should focus on others, you should yourself be humble, so that you get rid of any self-importance and selfishness.  Also, church people were also supposed to be focusing on God and heavenly matters, and not on worldly matters like how they looked.  This was especially the case for people in monasteries.

Merton Priory was Augustinian.  St Augustine's Rule said that:

There should be nothing about your behaviour
to attract attention.

Clothes, therefore, should be as humble as the canons who wore them.  When you joined a monastery, you gave up all individual property.  Everything was to be held in common.  That included clothes.  Augustine's Rule again:

And just as you have your food from one pantry, so, too, you are to receive your clothing from a single wardrobe. If possible, do not be concerned about what you are to wear at the change of the seasons.

The Augustinian Rule was a bit vague, though.  It said that you had to get your clothing from the common store, but it didn't say what the clothing was.  For that, we have to go to the other great founder of monks, St Benedict.  He said monks should wear:

 a tunic, a cowl, a belt for work, and for the feet
shoes and stockings.

This monastic dress was called a habit.  Because there were different sorts of monastics, there were different sorts of habits - a bit like football strips or army uniforms.  The Augustinians' habits looked something like this.  (Right is John Studeley, c.1500, from St Frideswide's, Oxford. Left, a diagram of a habit.)



We know most about what they wore from a handbook of Barnwell Priory, just outside Cambridge.  There, canons received clothes twice a year.  At Easter, each canon got:

• one a surplice or rochet of 7 ells of stuff (an ell was 45” /114 cm)
• one sheet of 6 ells
• three pair of linen breeches, each of which is to be of 5 ells
• one pair of summer hose of soft leather, which ought to rise above the knees
• one pair of shoes of leather
• one pair of gaiters of serge or canvas
• one cope (cloak) of frieze without fur

At Michaelmas (29^th September) each canon got:

• one new tunic of woollen, or one cassock of lambskin
• a pair of boots of felt, and a pair of gaiters of woollen, and two pair of slippers similarly of woollen
• a black lambskin to mend the fur of the hood of his cloak. 

The chamberlain was in charge of the clothes.  He gave them out and took them back in again, and made sure they were repaired and washed.  He gave old linen to the poor.