If, however, someone considers that we have included in this little book anything that appears to be untrue, let that person not, indeed, impute the sin of lying to us, because we have taken care to write down nothing but what we have seen or what we have learned as carried by common knowledge in order to inform the devotion of those alive and generations to come.9 And let no one assume that out of affection I have provided anything lacking in truth – seeing that it would be better to say nothing at all, rather than to put forward falsehood in order to mislead – since we are not unfamiliar with the need to ‘render account for every word’.10 It is certainly better to restrain the tongue in silence than to narrate falsehoods to the detriment of the soul. Since, indeed, ‘The mouth that belieth killeth the soul’,11 far be it from me that I should lie in sacred matters or ‘adulterate the word of God’.12 But since so much proof of such great truth abounds in our time, why should I have to suppress the truth or concoct lies?
Therefore, let me not be called by spiteful people either a forger or a compiler of lies, as if, to quote the blessed Jerome: ‘I was not removing errors, but sowing fictions.’13 So let the scorpion stop rising up against us, coiled to strike us, and let the poisonous tongue cease injuring the holy work. Truly, as often as some rival of our labour raises his dog’s head against us, may your authority, reverend and venerable bishop, protect the humility of our little work. For there are some, led by a corrupt spirit, who, just as they refuse to believe what is written, so also deny what has been witnessed by many. Indeed, they also scorn as falsehoods those things which have been truly seen, not having in faith what the apostle Thomas felt in his heart, ‘Except I shall see I will not believe.’14 But in the Lord’s words I say, ‘blessed are they that have not seen, and have believed.’15
If you are this sort of person, then listen carefully to this. Because even if not everything can be known by everyone, yet different things can be known by different people, and you yourself have been unable to hear or see things known to many [others]. Valour that is out in the open always has its rivals, ‘and it is the tops of the mountains that the lightning strikes’.16 On the same point Pliny, too: ‘Many wish to be seen to disparage the best things, rather than to learn them.’17 Beware, therefore, disparager, lest when you censure things that are certain you are dragged into the error of blasphemy. Amidst all these things, let the diligent reader pay careful attention, lest both our hard work and his efforts be wasted. Let each choose what he18 wishes and better prove himself to be exacting rather than malicious. For in the house of the Lord both the gold vessel19 and the earthenware pot are required.
Finally, reader, I beg of you a double pardon: on the one hand, if I am wounding your ears with grammatical faults and a poverty of words, and on the other, if the overflowing page produces distaste. But let it not be vexatious for you to investigate what was not vexatious for Christ to demonstrate, He, who while glorifying His saints encourages us with their glorious examples.
And in case the reader’s diligence grows feeble because of the weariness caused by numerous parts, we have taken care to divide into seven small sections the quantity of our little book, small though it is, so that by taking breath at intervals the pious devotion of the reader may never stop running breathlessly through each section more readily than the previous one. First, then, breaking it into four parts, I have described the sacred childhood of the holy martyr, his venerable passion, the finding of the sacred body exposed in the wood revealed by heavenly signs while lying there under the open sky, and I have added the first translation20 from the wood into the city. I have divided the second section into three parts: I have offered a fitting account of the holy beginnings of his miracles made public by visions and miraculous signs; next the attack of the Christian-killing Jews is related; and lastly, I added the legal dispute between the Christians and the enraged Jews of Norwich in front of King Stephen in direct speech. I have described the second translation of the holy body and the wondrous raising of his tomb, and then I added the recovery of a light, as well as some other related miracles. In the fourth section, making a threefold division, I have set forth several miracles: first, the recovery of the stolen cloth, next, the wondrous discovery of the holy teeth, and in the third place, the amazing finding of a little spring under the roots of a tree where he first lay exposed. In the fifth section, the third translation is recounted, numerous miracles follow, and the death of the holy martyr’s mother is foretold in a wondrous vision. In the sixth section, now, the fourth translation is described, which was attended by a huge abundance of miracles that followed. The seventh section is wholly assigned to miracles and brings the whole book to an end.
The pious reader should pay attention, therefore, to the truth of the events, arranged as a summary in stages, and by skimming through the whole in this short summary will know where to find what he most desires. But now, since we have exceeded the boundary of a prologue, we bring it to a finish, since it has run its course.
At its end, venerable Bishop William, I entreat your far-seeing power of discernment, that you run right through this little book, which I commit to your consideration, with diligent care, pruning anything that is superfluous, correcting anything wrong and, as to the rest, if there is anything worthy, allowing it to remain in its place. Farewell, most holy father.
The prologue ends.
Book One
The chapters of the first book begin.1 [i] [O]f the portent in the mother’s vision. [ii] Of the birth of Saint William and his venerable childhood. [iii] How he was in the habit of going out of his way to the Jews and for that was rebuked by his people, and henceforward kept himself away. [iv] How he was abducted by a messenger of the Jews. [v] How after entering the Jews’ house he was mocked and killed. [vi] How the Jews accepted the plan to hide him. [vii] How and by whom he was carried away and hidden in the wood. [viii] How a hundred marks were given to the sheriff – then John – and the Jews were freed from the fear of death. [ix] How a light from heaven, in the shape of a fiery ladder, shone on the body of the holy martyr lying in the wood. [x] How and by whom he was found. [xi] Item, the second finding on that Saturday before Easter. [xii] How and by whom he was buried in the wood. [xiii] How the priest Godwin wanted to know whether it was him [William]. [xiv] On the foretelling in his maternal aunt’s vision. [xv] On the mother’s lament, accusing the Jews of her son’s murder. [xvi] How the priest Godwin accused the Jews at the synod, and how he offered himself to prove by ordeal that they were guilty of the death of the boy William. [xvii] That Aimar,2 then prior of St Pancras in Lewes, begged the bishop for permission to take the body of the holy martyr away with him then and there. [xviii] How he was brought from the wood to the city, was received by the monks, washed and found to be incorrupt in all his parts. [xix] On his burial in the monks’ cemetery.
Here begins the first book.
[I] OF THE PORTENT IN THE MOTHER’S DREAM3
When the mercy of divine piety wished to visit the province of Norwich – indeed, the whole of England – and to give it a new patron for new times, it gave a boy who was to be listed among the principal martyrs and to be honoured by the entire company of saints; it had him conceived in the womb of a mother ignorant of what she carried, and caused a fragrant rose to grow, little by little, among the thorns.4 His father was a certain Wenstan and his mother was called Elviva, and they lived a decent life in the countryside, abundantly supplied with all those things needed for living. No one should think it absurd that God wanted a boy of such future holiness and dignity to be born of humble parents, for He himself, it is well known, wished to be born of poor people. The mother, consequently, unaware that she had already conceived according to divine will, carried in ignorance the growing shoots of a male seed in the innermost of her body.5
It so happened, however, that she was chosen to be honoured with a vision, a foretelling of the great holiness and dignity that existed within her womb. It seemed to her, indeed, as she slept, that she was standing
on a road with her father Wulward the priest,6 who was a famous man at that time, standing together on a road, when they observed a light on the ground before their feet and a fish – commonly called a lux7 – turning. The fish indeed had twelve red fins, as if sprinkled with blood. So she said to her father: ‘Father, I see a fish, but I wonder greatly how it reached here and how it can live in such a dry place.’ Her father said to her: ‘Take it, daughter, take it and put it in your bosom.’8 Once she had done so the fish was seen moving in her bosom and growing little by little, until the bosom could no longer contain it. And so it slipped away and, coming out of her sleeve, suddenly9 sprouted wings and flew away, passing through the clouds, and the open heaven received it within.
Having seen this, the woman woke up and reported to her father in the morning what she had seen in the dream at night. And so the father, having great skill in the interpretation of visions,10 mulled it over in his mind and, after pondering the details a little while, answered his daughter: ‘You know indeed, dearest daughter, that you are pregnant, and so rejoice in joy, because you will indeed be giving birth to a son, who will be accompanied by the highest honour on earth and will be raised to the height of the clouds, greatly exalted in heaven. Know also that when the boy is twelve years old11 he will ascend to the pinnacle of his greatest glory.’ It is not to be believed that the girl’s father was announcing such firm words in this manner on his own, but rather by the divine spirit, to whom are known all present things as well as all those about to come. And indeed, in accordance with the father’s speech, the daughter had a son, who reached the height of honour at the age of twelve, as foretold.
[II] ON HIS BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD
After some time had passed, as the day of birth approached, the boy was born to the woman12 and his name was called William. He was indeed born on the day of the Purification of God’s mother [Candlemas, 2 February], the Virgin Mary, that is the day of candles, and perhaps this is significant, since the boy was to be of great purity and holiness, and he much loved candles and their lights. What I later learned from his mother and brothers, and from the priest who had brought him into the world again by baptism, I have decided by no means to consign to silence, but to insert into my story. For on the day of his weaning, when his father Wenstan joyously offered food to the relatives invited to the feast, a certain penitent – his arms in iron chains – entered, as if to beg for alms from those at table. After having eaten and delighted in his food, he took the little boy into his arms as if to admire him, and the boy in his childish innocence, fascinated by the iron chains, touched them with his little palms, and the chains suddenly cracked and broke into parts.13 Those dining were stunned at seeing this and, amazed at these wonderful ways, they ascribed what had happened to the boy’s merits. And so the penitent, having been freed by divine grace, went away overflowing with thanks; and the said priest, who was among the assembled guests, collected the broken chains and deposited them on display in his church of Haveringland,14 to serve as remembrance for those living and as knowledge for those to come, and took care to preserve them for a considerable time.
The mother, of course, who loved the child greatly, educated him with the greatest of care, and by her attentive education she led him from infancy to the years of understanding. By the time he was seven years old, as I have learned from the mother’s account, he already began to be a lover of abstinence, so that while his older brothers did not fast, he did so three times a week; that is, on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.15 He also observed the days of the apostles and other saints, which are official vigils for the people, with pious fasts; and as the ardour of his devotion grew little by little, he passed several days on bread and water alone. Since he was overflowing with inner piety, whatever he was able to take away from his own food or to extract from his mother by his requests, he gave all away to the poor in secret if at any time he did not dare to do so openly. In all this he was not only pious but also kind, so that he conducted himself so wisely that in the same action he both benefited the poor, so far as was in his power, and caused no worry to his parents. He also frequented the church most willingly; he learned letters, psalms and prayers and worshipped with the greatest reverence all that was related to God. Since divine grace preceded him in all things, he had a zeal for diligent study, and just as he was gentle to all, he was loved by all and was vexatious to no one in any matter. Without doubt, the wisdom of divine dispensation was working great deeds of grace in the little boy, knowingly while he was ignorant, and prudently when he was untutored. And by some sure signs it was already then indicated just how many merits he would have in the future.
[III] HOW HE WAS IN THE HABIT OF GOING OUT OF HIS WAY TO THE JEWS, FOR WHICH HE WAS REBUKED BY HIS FAMILY, AND HENCEFORWARD KEPT HIMSELF AWAY FROM THEM
And so when he bloomed into such a venerable childhood, and was already eight years old, he was handed over by his parents to the skinners, to learn the art of tanning.16 What next? He thrived in the tractability of his talent and displayed diligence in his effort; in a short while he far exceeded his peers in that craft and was equal to quite a few of his instructors. Finally, he left the countryside, moved to the city and lived with a certain master, who was very well known for his skill. Rarely spending time in the countryside, and now used to the city, he made great efforts with industry in his chosen craft and reached the age of twelve. Then, while he was living in Norwich, the Jews who dwelt there at the time chose him above all other skinners for the repair of mantles, furs and other things of this kind, which they either had as surety17 or which they themselves used. For indeed they considered him highly suitable, either because they saw him as simple and skilful or because – led by miserliness – they reckoned they could pay him a lower wage.
But I think it is more likely that by the wish of divine providence he was already destined centuries ago for martyrdom and so was drawn to it step by step by degrees; and so he was chosen by the Jews as less wise and more fitting to be mocked and sacrificed, in disgrace of the Lord’s Passion. We have indeed learned from some Jews who later converted truly to the Christian faith that at that time they intended to do this very thing to a Christian; and in order to complete their plan of spite, they chose in advance at the beginning of Lent the boy William, who was twelve years old at the time and innocent indeed. And since the venerable boy frequented the Jews ignorant of the fraud being devised, he was rebuked by his uncle by marriage, the priest Godwin,18 and by one Wulward, in whose house he lodged, and was prohibited from ever visiting them again. And the Jews, certainly regretting that their plan had come to nothing, persevered all the more keenly and with all their might to restore their act of malice as planned, as the day intended for the execution of their villainy came close and the victim whom they thought they had already caught had slipped away from their deadly hands. Assembling all the adroitness of their cunning machination, they found a certain man – I know not whether a Christian or a Jew – most crafty and suited to the execution of so execrable a deed of disgrace, and with much haste, for their pascha approached in three days,19 sent him to find and bring back the victim who had slipped out of their hands, as I have already said.
[IV] HOW HE WAS ABDUCTED BY THE MESSENGER OF THE JEWS
As Monday after Palm Sunday dawned [20 March 1144], that detestable messenger of the Jews set out to execute the task they had enjoined upon him, and he finally found the boy William after searching for him with the greatest care. Once found, he caught the boy with lying snares of words; once caught, he deceived him with false promises. He pretended indeed to be the cook of William, Archdeacon of Norwich,20 and that he wished to have him to work with him in the kitchen. If he [the boy William] came with him, he would thus later enjoy many profitable opportunities. The naive boy was deceived and believed the man. But wanting to have the approval of his mother’s goodwill in this matter, because his father had already passed away, he went to her with the messenger.
When they arrived there, the boy e
xplained the reason for his journey, and the traitor spread the snare of his lies as he had formerly expounded them. Promising much, to be sure, that son of perdition easily enticed the childish mind with his empty promises; but at first he could in no way extract the mother’s approval in the matter. The innocent boy agreed to the insistent traitor, but the mother resisted, her gut feeling warning her, fearing for her son with a maternal instinct.21 Now the traitor, and then the mother; he begs and she refuses. He begs in order to destroy the boy; she refuses, lest she may lose him. He claims to be the archdeacon’s cook, but she does not trust him at all. Between her and him, as between a sheep and a wolf, who first would you think the strongest, in the fight over a third? The lamb was in the middle, the sheep on one side, the wolf22 on the other. The wolf stands in order to tear and devour; the sheep stands forth to rescue and save. But because the boy was lured, he favoured one of them and repeatedly begged the agreement of the other; until the mother, persuaded both by her son’s many requests and also seduced by the man’s good promises, was finally driven to agree, albeit against her will. She then begged for respite for her son until after Easter, but the traitor swore that he would not be without him for three days, not even for thirty pieces of silver.23 The mother refused, and swore24 that she would not surrender her son before Easter. And so the traitor took three shillings out of his purse, in order to undermine maternal sentiment, and diverted towards avarice the unreliable firmness of feminine fickleness, corrupted by the glitter of silver. The silver was offered as a gift, but rather it was the price of innocent blood.
The Life and Passion of William of Norwich (Penguin Classics) Page 8