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Relics of saints were a key asset in medieval Europe. They were the backbone of the economies of entire regions. These economies were often based on crime. Despite the biblical commandment «thou shalt not steal,» the theft of relics was not only widespread, but was even considered a more worthy way of obtaining them than buying. In this column, Oleg Voskoboynikov, a medievalist, art critic, and a lecturer at the HSE-NES joint program in Economics, discusses how these old-time detective stories unfolded.
Anyone who has been to the Christian catacombs in Rome knows about their strict visiting regime. A guide appointed to a certain complex takes only a limited number of tourists at a time. Their work is supervised by a specific religious congregation accountable for the preservation of the catacombs to the Roman Curia. No photos, no lingering on the way.
Why is there so much fuss about hundreds of dark underground tunnels with thousands of ancient tombs? The answer can be found on their walls: signatures of professional thieves of the 18th century, who skillfully cut off parts of early Christian paintings for antiquity lovers, leaving «ads» right at the crime scene for those curious ones who would get there with another cicerone. They stole not only paintings, but also bones, the innocent remains of ancient Christians. And bones are still being stolen in our days. That answers the question above.
This bad obsession with the bones of the long-dead has a centuries-old history. It's no secret that some dead people are very much alive. It is also no secret that without the dead that are revered and preserved, there can be no normal society of the living people. Moreover, any normal society that cares about its history, has more dead than living members. And among the dead ones there are both scoundrels and heroes. Some of the latter are unique and become saints. This rule makes up one of the main mechanisms of history.
In the Middle Ages, the vast majority of Christian saints were venerated in their remains. These relics have metaphysical power attributed to them. In ancient times, the saints’ remains, in a businesslike way, were sometimes called «pledges» (pignora in Latin), as they served as a material guarantee of the presence here and now of their former owner, who has settled in the heavenly palaces. They established a link between the sinful earth and the pure heavens, protected from bad weather, enemies and the evil forces. They also had a very material, economic, and even political meaning.
The times between the 9th and the 11th centuries that is considered to be the start of modern Europe, is also considered to be dark, disenfranchised, sometimes chaotic. This is partly true, even if there is some exaggeration. The state was weak, and the economy was too fragile and unreliable to operate steadily for several generations. The church was one of the few functioning institutions. Monasteries and churches in cities were used by the nobility for common spiritual purposes, for their own prestige and big politics. All important issues were discussed at gatherings during church holidays. Monasteries were expanding with grants and assets, but in order to attract them and take a stand in politics, they had to own relics valued by laypeople. Collecting relics became a trend already in the early Middle Ages, and since the 9th century they were essential for getting a permit to build a temple and consecrate an altar. This requirement is still in place nowadays. The movement of relics around the globe continues. Without a temple, there is no state, culture or civilization. So, the relics are still in demand.
Usually the remains had a certain owner. They were first kept in altars, and from the time of the Carolingians, from around 800 AD, moved to crypts under altars for security, with pilgrims allowed only under strict control. The crypt was used as a kind of safe where people could pray. The sanctuaries that held the shrines gradually turned into centers of economic growth. They appeared on old and new routes, gradually being surrounded by inns, staples and markets. Artisans and craftsmen started to settle around. The division of labor between handicrafts and agriculture, the cradle of the modern European economy, strangely coincided with the spread of the cult of relics. This coincidence deserves a separate analysis.
It is clear that the sources of this growth, the relics, were highly valued by their owners and caused envy and jealousy of others. Thus, the relics were hunted badly. Paradoxically, stealing a shrine was considered more acceptable than buying one, in the eyes of both the thieves and their employers, as well as their contemporaries. Such appropriation fit perfectly into the social worldview of that time, whereas turning to goods-money relations was not really appropriate in that matter. An asset that moved from one person to another performed a symbolic function of confirming the relationship between the parties: the equals exchanged gifts, the inferior or guilty ones were deprived of the assets. When Frederick Barbarossa defeated Milan in 1162 AD after many years of struggle, he took away the relics of the «Biblical Magi» (the Wise Men or Three Kings) and presented them to the Archbishop of Cologne, Rainald of Dassel. Milan did not forget this insult.
We know hundreds of testimonies of «holy thefts» (furta sacra). The pious theft sometimes required special operations. One of them is described in the 11th-century account, «Translatio S. Fidei» (Transference of St Faith). It recounts the monks of Conques' act of stealing the relics of Saint Foy (St Faith) from the monastery in Agen to bring wealth and visitors to their own monastery. Conques was a small, remote monastery in Southern France, while Agen was a more established and wealthy location. The monks of Conques were envious of the wealth and prestige of the monastery in Agen, which housed the relics of Saint Foy. A monk from Conques was sent to Agen, where he infiltrated the monastery and lived there for a decade. Eventually, he gained the trust of the community and became the keeper of the treasury. He opened the tomb one night, stole the relics and returned to his native monastery. The case took place around 865 AD. It is unclear how much of the story we can trust but it is known for sure that in 883 AD the local nobility recognized the presence of the relics in Conques. The Saint Foy continued to perform her posthumous miracles, attracting tens of thousands of pilgrims, but already in a new place. Her incredible reliquary, which amazed the imagination back then, still doesn’t leave anybody indifferent: she sits and looks at the visitors like she is alive. The magnificent doorway of the early 12th century, which inspired Umberto Eco to write several pages of The Name of the Rose about it, is a symbol of that popularity.
If the relics were stolen at the other end of the Christian ecumene, it excited the imagination of the crowd, and provided a strong bond for it around those relics. An impressed audience always pays and mobilizes more readily than a disappointed or bored one. The economic rise of the West, which began around 1000 AD, was largely due to this spiritual and entertainment mechanism of public communication. Major pilgrimage routes, such as the Way of St James or the Via Francigena, which went across the whole of Europe, led precisely to such popular relics. And these routes played a huge role in the economic boom of the 11th and 12th centuries. They have supported the exchange of not only goods, but also information and technology. A pilgrimage industry emerged that was like a «franchise business operating under the umbrella brand of the universal church,» as Adrian R. Bell and Richard S. Dale put it.
People did not always have to go to the shrine themselves, in some cases it could come by itself. When crowdfunding or mobilization was needed, the relics were brought out into the public, toured across the neighbouring villages. There was a specific business linked to this too: the organization of such tours could be commissioned to a professional who worked for a salary or a stake. Monks or clerics told engaging stories about the miracles of the demonstrated saints that they performed during their lifetime and, more importantly, posthumously. The lack of entertaining facts from the real life of the hermits was easily compensated by the detective-story-like details of the discovery of the remains. In the 1060s AD, the monastery of Berg in Flanders built itself a new church. And at the same time, the relics of St Lewina were brought there from Sussex by sea. There was no information about her life and acts of faith, nothing proves that she even existed or was revered in Sussex, there is only a story about the transfer of her remains. But the Flemings of the middle of the 11th century, most likely, were happy to imagine that they got a kind of overseas gem. And by modern standards, they got it in a dishonest and criminally punishable way. A monk from Berg happened to be in the monastery where the remains of St Lewina were kept. Her story impressed him so much that he decided to steal the relics. The saint resisted this, but the monk managed to persuade her to join him.
Such stories about real and fake thefts spread across Europe. For example, St Mary Magdalene turned out to be the main patroness of the Benedictine monastery in Vézelay (check out the main narthex of the Saint Mary Magdalene Basilica in Vézelay). In 1050 AD, Pope Leo III first recognized her cult in the monastery, and then the presence of her relics there. It was not about an unknown hermit, but about the famous evangelical penitent harlot, who witnessed to Christ’s Resurrection. However, it was necessary to explain how she got from Palestine to distant Burgundy. So, the story was invented that she went to Provence herself, spent the rest of her days there in penance, was buried, and in the 8th century her remains were stolen from a half-abandoned church by pious Burgundian monks on a dark night so that they would not get into possession the wicked Saracens. The big confusion in chronology and names did not bother anyone. The main thing was just the beautiful story. We will never know if the theft happened, but the cult was strong for a couple of centuries. And when the cult is strong, the fields spire and the vines are filled with juice because the saint cares about the land.
Other large cities of our time carried out thefts of relics according to the category of their constituent charters. Venice, in an effort to get rid of the tutelage of two empires, the Byzantine and the Frankish, around 830 AD equipped several merchants who organized the transfer from Alexandria of the remains of Mark the Evangelist, a disciple of St Peter. The city managed to get recognition of the truth of the shrine. Neighboring Aquileia, once the fourth largest city of Roman Italy and the ancient patriarchate, which, according to legend, was founded by St Mark himself, were left out of business and gradually went into a decay, handing over to the lucky Venice both the patriarchal status and the palm of economic primacy. The connection between the finding of St Mark's remains and the economic miracle of medieval Venice is not self-explanatory, even if they attracted pilgrims. The essence of the miracle, of course, lies in the entrepreneurial spirit, flair, and civic solidarity of the Venetians. But all these qualities were daily nourished by affection for the saint, who became a full-fledged «citizen», and, if you will, an eternal doge.
A lesser-known, but also a major port in southern Italy, Bari, knowing the story of Venice well, repeated the experience of its great rival in the 1080s AD. A group of merchants from the city went to Myra of Lycia, which had just been conquered by the Turks, at their own risk. There, partly by threats, partly by persuasion and a guarantee of political asylum, they made the Greek monks open to them the grave of St Nicholas, a saint who surpassed St Mark in popularity. The adventure was a success, the relics arrived in Bari and settled in the local Benedictine monastery. The city was unable to compete with Venice in the Mediterranean trade but it rightfully could and still can be proud of a very special heavenly patron.
Bari. St Nicholas Basilica. Crypt
If there was demand for a product, it is logical to assume that there were those who were ready to supply it. Obtaining remains was not a profession, but professionals in this difficult business did appear, and some are even known by name, just like experts in the Roman catacombs of the 18th century. Einhard, the biographer of Charlemagne, following a common passion, organized the theft of the remains of the Roman martyrs Marcellinus and Peter. In order for the world to know about this personal treasure of his, around 830 AD he described the entire special operation in beautiful Latin in the Translation of the Relics of Sts. Marcellinus and Peter. This is one of the fascinating detective stories of the Middle Ages that has been translated into other languages. Due to its great artistic merit, it became a model for subsequent translationes and for those who were in the business of obtaining remains. It's funny that the latter as well as prelates, sometimes became saints themselves, and their own lives moralize about the specific exploits of their heroes.
For example, the enterprising and thrifty abbot St Richard of Verdun, who lived in the first half of the 11th century, in his youth, served as a guardian of the relics in Reims. He revered them very much, but this did not prevent him, filled with some special piety and zeal, from sharing the bone of St John the Baptist with some Gerard of Florennes, who later became bishop of Cambrai and built a church in honor of the saint. After getting a senior position, Richard spent his whole life collecting relics for the monastery entrusted to him. In 1033 AD, Count Odo of Champagne for some reason burned down the town of Commercy, a common thing in that wild time. A cleric managed to save the hand of Healer St Panteleimon from the flames. Richard did not lose his head, appeared on the scene on time and bought the relic for one silver mark that was actually not a payment but a gratitude.
At the end of the 12th century, the Bishop of Lincoln, St Hugh, once found himself in the venerable Norman monastery of Fécamp, where, in particular, the relics of Mary Magdalene were venerated. He was brought a hand bone in a case: taking a knife from the secretary, the bishop opened it, took out the shrine and brought it to his face. Apparently, rejoicing about his abby or just in a fit of religious delight – the author of the hagiography and the witness of the event does not explain – Hugh decided to break off a piece of bone, but it did not give in. He tried to bite it with his front teeth, but that didn't help either. Then the back teeth went into play, and the prelate managed to get two pieces, which he immediately gave to a companion standing next to him. The abbot and the monks were taken aback at first, then they seemed indignant, but the man, apparently, was not afraid: he ‘expressed special reverence for the saint, because he drew near with his mouth and honored the Lord with his lips.’ In a similar way, Hugh managed to get a collection of three dozen such fragments. They were placed in a precious bracelet, which he wore without ever taking it off. Unfortunately, it got lost during the ages but it is obvious that a bishop's hand, decorated with such a shrine, possessed special power in the eyes of contemporaries.
And yet, how was this practice of stealing perceived by medieval people? How did they justify themselves in violating the commandment «thou shalt not steal’? In order to figure it out without climbing into the prosecutor's chair, it is important to understand that relics for them were not so much objects as subjects of relations. They were almost living saints. Therefore, in every story about the «translation» or uncovering of relics, the saint from time to time appears to the thief or their master in dreams, indicates his location, agrees to be taken away, or, on the contrary, whips up a storm and stays in place. After the adventure, it was still necessary for the whole world to prove the authenticity of the remains – the mechanisms of rhetoric, preaching, and art were then activated. An important saint got a nice reliquary. And an equally great story, which was then replicated. Such a ‘theft’ was not a trivial crime, but a big enterprise, even a series of enterprises and events, sometimes of geopolitical significance. Ritual violence was supported with universal consent at the right moment; the saint found a new home and new household members, who, in turn, got a father of the family.
Any market operates in a certain ecosystem, determining its mental coordinates, but it is also being formed by that ecosystem. Relics of saints brought power and they themselves became victims of relations of power. They were so much valued that they couldn't even be priced. But if it was necessary to «save» them, any means were suitable. The French Emperor of Constantinople, Baldwin II, also known as Baldwin of Courtenay, in need of funds in the occupied country, in 1238 AD encumbered the Crown of thorns to the Venetian Nicolo Quirino. King Louis IX of France saved his relative and redeemed the shrine for 135,000 livres de Tours, about half a year's income of the king’s family. The Crown arrived in Paris, the relevant reports were written, and the whole story was depicted on a separate stained-glass window of Sainte-Chapelle, built for the occasion. It would be a mistake to think that such specific connections between the authorities and some fragments of antiquity are curiosities from the distant past. Relics were collected and deeply revered before the industrial age. And even today, they sometimes find themselves in the focus of public attention, not being limited to believers only.
Suggested reading: Furta sacra. Thefts of Relics in the Central Middle Ages by Patrick Geary. Princeton University Press
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