Sunday, June 23, 2019

Bishop Denewlf—From The Pigpen To The Pulpit



Denewlf was a contemporary of King Alfred the Great of Wessex (r. 879-899) and lived in an undisclosed forested region of Alfred’s kingdom. Although Denewlf was an incredibly bright fellow, he was far removed from any government or ecclesiastical officials who might recognize his potential. He came from a poor family and unfortunately had no access to education. Making do with what he had, Denewlf devoted himself to a herd of pigs and lived as a swineherd in his wooded homeland.

The life of Denewlf the Swineherd changed forever when he had a chance encounter with King Alfred the Great sometime between 871 and 878. As the story goes, Alfred and his forces entered the stretch of forest where Denewlf lived at a time when Viking raiders were making one of their many incursions into the territory of Wessex. While the king and his thanes were hiding from, or setting up an ambush for, the troublesome Vikings, they happened to stumble across Denewlf and his pigs. The sources are not clear on when exactly the meeting took place, but two years in particular are likely candidates. In 871, Alfred lost a battle against Vikings at Wilton, near the Wylye River. After that loss, Alfred resorted to guerrilla warfare for the rest of the year, until he could arrange a peace agreement with the Vikings. Otherwise, 878 was a probable time for a chance forest encounter. In that year, the Viking warlord Guthrum invaded Wessex and caught Alfred so off guard that the king had to flee to the marshes of Somerset with a small band of loyalists. From there, Alfred resumed his guerrilla tactics and rallied his forces to eventually defeat Guthrum before the end of the year.

Whichever year, 871, 878, or somewhere in between, Alfred and his warriors eventually found themselves at wherever Denewlf lived with his animals. What exactly happened when they first met is unclear—perhaps they conversed after realizing he was not a Viking, or maybe Alfred simply commandeered the poor man’s pigs to feed the war effort. Nevertheless, whatever the route to the conclusion, Alfred and Denewlf eventually had a conversation. While the two talked, Denewlf’s natural intelligence became apparent to Alfred. The king was able to look past the lack of wealth and the absence of education to see Denewlf as a pool of unrefined and untrained potential. Alfred could sympathize with the uneducated—he himself was reportedly unable to read his native language until he was twelve, and he would not be confident in translating Latin until 887. Perhaps seeing something of himself in the swineherd, Alfred saw to it that Denewlf received tutors. Denewlf apparently made near superhuman progress in his learning and was appointed bishop of Winchester in 879. The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester summarized the tale well:

“This man, if report may be trusted, was, during the early part of his life, not only illiterate but a swineherd. King Alfred, when yielding to the fury of his enemies he had taken refuge in a forest, chanced to light upon him as he was feeding his swine. Remarking his intelligence, the king caused him to be taught learning, and when he was sufficiently instructed made him bishop of Winchester; a thing that may almost be considered miraculous” (Florence of Worcester, AD 879).

Bishop Denewlf of Winchester ruled his bishopric for around three decades and outlived the king who raised him from the pigpen to the pulpit. According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Bishop Denewlf died in 909.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (painting by Eugène Burnand (1850-1921).

Sources:
  • The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012.
  • Asser’s Life of King Alfred and Other Contemporary Sources translated, introduced and denoted by Simon Keynes and Michael Lapidge. New York: Penguin Classics, 2004. 
  • The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester translated by Thomas Forester. London: Petter and Galpin, originally published 1854.  

Wednesday, June 19, 2019

The Sad Death And Miraculous Sendoff Of King Kenelm Of Mercia



King Cenwulf of Mercia was said to have begun his reign around 795 or 796, and ruled until the time of his death, which was dated to 819 by most medieval sources, including the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Florence of Worcester (d. 1118) and Henry of Huntingdon (d. approx. 1160), but has since been pushed back to 821 in more modern estimates. Upon King Cenwulf’s death, he left a young son named Kenelm as his heir, a boy reportedly only seven years of age. Unfortunately, the child-king would not have a long or prosperous reign—he mysteriously disappeared mere months after his ascendance to the throne and never returned.

As the boy’s disappearance dragged on, many began to expect the worst. Tragically, the worries of the Mercians turned out to be well founded. After an unknown amount of time, a wanderer found the remains of a young boy in the woods of Clent, and they were soon identified as those of the missing king. Numerous miraculous tales sprung up about how the remains were found. According to Florence of Worcester, the body was discovered after “heaven revealed it by the testimony of a column of light” and “from it a milk-white dove soared to heaven on golden wings” (Chronicle of Florence of Worcester, AD 819). A vastly different tale was recorded in the Golden Legend (Volume IV, c. 1275), in which a similar white dove visited the Papal States and delivered a gold-lettered message to the pope, which supposedly read “In Clent in Cowbage, Kenelm, king born, Lieth under a thorn, his head off shorn” (Golden Legend Volume IV, Life of S. Kenelm). The odd tale continued with the pope delivering the message to his English bishops, who were allegedly able to follow a white cow to the site of the body. Whatever the manner of discovery, the young king’s remains were indeed found, and many believed that divine intervention played a role in the recovery process.

When the remains were located, the head reportedly was visible on the surface, but the rest of the body was buried under the earth. The flesh (or perhaps the bone) of the child-king’s head was reportedly “pure and milk-white as it was at his birth” (Chronicle of Florence of Worcester, AD 819). In the process of recovering the rest of the body, a large hole was excavated. According to the tale in the Golden Legend, the void in the earth filled like a well, and many medieval locals believed that the water collected there had healing properties.

 Although the boy-king’s body was discovered, the cause of his death remained a mystery. The suspicious disappearance, and the separation of the head from the rest of the remains (and perhaps cut marks) led many to believe that foul play was involved. Despite the reality that “heaven alone was witness” to the circumstances of Kenelm’s death (Chronicle of Florence of Worcester, AD 819), the people of Mercia began searching for murderers and assassins who might have wished the boy-king harm. Interestingly, the blame (rightly or wrongly) fell on the regent ruler of Mercia, Ascebert, and Kenelm’s older sister, Quendryth, who were accused of covertly assassinating the king for their own gain. Possibly benefiting from these rumors was a certain Ceolwulf, who became the king of Mercia in 821. Yet, King Ceolwulf I of Mercia soon ran afoul of his people and was deposed in 823.

As for the late Kenelm, the miraculous tales surrounding the discovery of his remains dramatically transformed his legacy. What could have been a gloomy story of a murdered child evolved into a legend of miracles and divine favor. He was soon recognized as a saint and became a highly venerated figure whose saintly feast day and pilgrimage sites were honored by countless medieval Christians.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (scene from A Chronicle of England, illustrated by James William Edmund Doyle (1822–1892), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester translated by Thomas Forester. London: Petter and Galpin, originally published 1854.
  • The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012. 
  • https://sourcebooks.fordham.edu/basis/goldenlegend/GoldenLegend-Volume4.asp#Kenelm
  • https://archive.org/details/chroniclehenryh00foregoog/page/n179 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Cenwulf
  • https://www.ancient.eu/Kingdom_of_Mercia/