Let none turn away the ears of the heart and the striving of faith because such affairs so rarely happen in his time, for nothing but what I have seen or was able to learn for sure from the most credible people through careful investigation have I striven to entrust to these writings. To be sure, if the diligent eye of simplicity runs through the truth of the matter even superficially, what else would it see in beholding or perceive while paying attention, but that the boyhood and innocence of the blessed William saves and that the purity of his virginity commends? And by the proven signs of the wounds, whoever it was who caused them, by particular arguments, so to speak, it is proven that he was truly killed; and to this purpose who could believe that he deserved death, given that he was young and innocent with no previous sins? Or that some desire for his precious garments or some other wealth would have drawn someone to commit so execrable a crime, given that he had absolutely no such goods? In whatever manner it had taken place, we accept it for certain because after he was handled in the harshest manner he was finally killed and so passed from this light to the Lord his maker as an innocent and virginal being. Moreover, that he ought to be called a saint, and indeed he is, is testified by the miracles that happen daily around his tomb, by divine grace which itself, in our time and mercifully, does not scorn to present and to display what worth there is in him whom it glorifies.
These miracles we know because we have seen them or heard of them, and at the request of the Bishop and Convent of Norwich, I, Thomas of Monmouth, with God’s will, have undertaken to commit them to writing, lest memory of them be lost for posterity and in order to preserve it for future times.
[III] ABOUT A ROSE WHICH BLOSSOMED AGAIN AT HIS TOMB IN WINTER TIME
As a sign indeed of his [William’s] sanctity and in order to make known the excellence of his merits, the Lord wished to do something by which He changed the habitual order of nature. Around Michaelmas, some of the monks, in pious devotion, had transplanted to the head of the holy martyr’s tomb in which he was buried, a shrub which in summertime had already sprung forth in flowers in the cloister. Immediately its roots gripped the soil, its leaves revived and after just a few days it flowered again to the great amazement of all. All the flowers survived on the shrub up to the Feast of St Edmund [20 November], when a great storm of rain and wind blew up, which shook off all but one. Its red colour and its height excelled above all others, and when all the rest had fallen off it held its place on the top of the shrub and was preserved with divine approval from the rains, winds, snows and winter frosts, and for many days remained on its branch. Inspired by the wonder, many people took pains to see the flower; and some of them attested to seeing it around Christmas time. And whoever is not habitually ungrateful for divine favours should weigh up carefully that in this matter a mystery of divine operation was present. And while he will find around the body of the blessed martyr William the order of nature changed, he may appreciate that by divine will the rose has flowered in testimony of His martyr and will join in praise of the Lord who works wonders in His saints.
[IV] OF THE WONDROUS VISION OF A CERTAIN SICK PERSON, AND OF HIS CURE
Another miracle occurred in that year, in which divine goodness sought to show us nothing else than that the blessed boy and martyr William of great excellence is in heaven and merited the utmost veneration on earth. There was a man by the name of Lewin who lived in the village called Welney,15 situated in the marshes of Ely, cut off from the land by waters. Since he suffered from a long-standing condition and languished in a body that was totally disabled, all of his companions utterly despaired for his health. As Eastertide approached, as suffering caused by the sickness grew and with the cold harbinger of death spreading through each and every limb, his breathing was interrupted, the pulse slowed down and as his eyelids faltered he seemed to be approaching his end. By turns he was pale and then for a while rosy-cheeked. Some of those who were attending him, since they saw him pale, thought him dead and prepared him for his funeral. But the more discerning among them, especially because they sometimes also saw him rosy-cheeked and did not believe that he had passed away, judged that he ought to be carefully looked after until they were surer. Others agreed with these as being wiser and strove to preserve him until the third day.
Meanwhile this sick man was rapt in ecstasy, as he later attested, and was taken up through various places, some horrible and some pleasant. Among the former, he saw an innumerable crowd suffering diverse torments and he recognized among them some whom he had known in life.16 And when they saw and recognized him, they gave him some familiar secret signs to be sent by him and inform those of their relatives still enjoying the light of life, so that they can avoid the torments prepared for them, unless they repent of such and such crimes. Having seen these things he was taken away and passed through places full of horror, and led by an angel he entered a pleasant and flourishing region. He saw there as he passed through an innumerable multitude of people existing in the inestimable joy of glory, and from there, passing by a road strewn with various flowers, he continued to be led until he came down in front of the Lord sitting on His throne.
Terrified by the unbearable splendour of light, first he froze in his place, but with the encouragement of the angel he returned to himself and, having lost his fear, stood more surely on his feet. And in that shining radiance of light, fixing his gaze, he saw the Lord, ruler of all that exists, sitting on a golden throne adorned with precious stones, and thousands of saints in front of Him. He also saw to the right of the Lord, seated in majesty, the blessed and glorious Virgin Mary;17 and seated at the feet of the lordly majesty he saw a boy of about twelve years old, perched on a golden stool. His dress was whiter than snow, his face brighter than the sun, and on his head a golden crown shone, marked all over with the most precious stones. Choirs of saints glorified him and above all the angelic orders venerated him. Seeing them, Lewin wondered greatly and said to the leading angel: ‘Who is this, Lord, seated on a stool at the Lord’s feet, to whom such honours are being devoted by everyone?’ The angel told him: ‘This is the one to whom perpetual honour is due, whom the Jews of Norwich killed in derision and scorn of the Lord’s Passion on these holy days.18 And it is thanks to his merit that you receive the benefit of a cure at his tomb.’
And this being said he [Lewin] was immediately raised from there and was put back into his body. And when his soul returned, under the gaze of those present his body suddenly shook all over and to those totally terrified people who thought him dead he appeared to have come back to life. Little by little he recovered his strength and after a while he opened his eyes and, calling his father, he recounted the whole story of his vision in order. All those present were amazed by the story and full of wonder, and he went on to say: ‘Since the angel announced and promised me that I shall be called back to the hope of health, it is necessary, father, that you set out on the route to Norwich in greatest haste and seek out the tomb of a boy recently killed by the Jews. And once it is found, I, too, guided by you, shall try to come if I am able, and I am confident that there I shall be cured by the merits of that holy boy.’ The father rose and, swift of foot, arrived at Norwich; there he enquired about the boy, but could not learn anything certain of such a matter. And while everyone was discussing the matter, someone caused19 a rumour of the enquiry to reach the ears of the Jews. The enemies of the name of Christ were agitated and were immediately struck by terror, because they feared the rumour of their guilt would be revived, and they betook themselves and their families yet again into the fortress of the castle, as they had done before. And so he who was seeking the boy killed by the Jews, without receiving any confirmation, hurried home, sad and denied of the fruit of his effort.
And when he arrived home he explained that he had striven in vain and those things he had investigated amounted to nothing. Contrariwise, the sick son claimed that he [the father] had been negligent in his investigation and asserted firmly that all he had said was true. And so he perceived s
orrowfully that the cure of his illness was put off, yet he estimated that the hope of his recovery was just delayed and in the meantime suffered patiently. A few days later the priest of that village went to Norwich, because as a priest he could not be absent from the synod20 which habitually took place at that time. Sitting among his brother priests, among the other affairs of the Church, he heard a priest called Godwin delivering the speech about the mournful killing of the most holy boy William, which we have already recorded in the preceding book. Having heard this, he rejoiced with no little happiness, because he recognized that the boy of whose death he had just heard talk was the same of whom at home the sick man was always speaking. When the synod was over he asked about the place where he lay and, having seen it and taken note, he returned home full of thanks. The priest recounted what he had heard and seen and pointed out the place where he [William] could be found.
When the sick [man] heard this, his strength returned and his strength revived for a while due to his delight. He sat up on his little bed and was already giving thanks as if his health was half restored. Against the discomfort of his weakness, the comfort of joy acted as an antidote. What need of many words? On the next day the father made an effort to convey his son to the venerable tomb of the glorious boy. While this was happening, the sick man lamented that the cure of his health was deferred and the total weakness of the body scarcely kept pace with the strength of his mind, though he overcame the discomfort of nature with the strength of the spirit. The father and son then arrived at Norwich and, making their way towards the wood to the tomb they sought, by the account of some folk whom they met en route they learned that the holy boy William had already been translated from there to the cemetery of the monks, and was enclosed in a stone tomb within their cemetery. And so they changed their course and arrived at the cathedral church and after explaining to the sacrists21 their business and their wish, they succeeded in obtaining permission to be admitted to the tomb they longed to see.
And so, when the sick man achieved what he had so ardently desired for so long, he burst into tears – moved by great joy – he bent his knees in prayer, then prostrated himself fully on the ground and poured out his soul to the Lord. Among the many sobs and sighs he asked the Lord that if what he had seen was not a false but a true and efficacious vision, he be not cheated of the vision’s truth and promise of health. Next, back at the tomb, he entreated the holy boy and martyr, whom he had seen in heaven so sublime and honoured. And he begged to be cured by the merits of him for whose intercession the angel had invited him to pray. While he poured out his prayers in this manner, his cheeks wet from the profuse tears, he put forth a pious prayer in devotion. Meanwhile, with the operation of divine grace, as some strength poured into him limb by limb, he felt his limbs regain health; as the [vital force] entered, all pain – little by little – departed. After the prayer was competed, suddenly by power of God he felt himself whole and he wondered at the health that came so quickly to him. Exceedingly happy, therefore, he placed upon the tomb as a ritual offering a candle and a penny,22 which he had carried with him, and left with his father, grateful, safe and sound. These were the first fruits of offerings given to the blessed martyr William, whom the goodness of divine grace has glorified with such first fruits of miracles, and with the passage of time whose merits and sanctity He wanted to make known to the world by an abundance of miracles.
[V] ON A SIMILAR VISION OF A CERTAIN GIRL
After a while had passed, it happened that another vision, similar in nearly every way, was seen by a certain virgin. These visions I know were seen at different times and by different people, but because of the similarities I have decided to connect one vision to the other. And since I desire to explain them to the ears of the faithful, no one should think that I am striking false as true,23 no one should call me a compiler of trifles or falsehoods. I have presumed to insert nothing at all into the visions about to be told, and have not pretended to know for sure anything apart from the reports of eyewitnesses.
There was a young virgin in the village of Mulbarton,24 very young of age, who was very religious for her age in attitudes and deeds. She merited to behold a wonderful vision seen at night, by God’s will, which she later strove to bring to our attention. ‘I was looking,’ she said, ‘and I do not know whether I was awake or asleep, God knows, and – lo! – a dove whiter than snow flew to me from the sky, stood in front of me, and said: “Quickly come forth and follow me.” And immediately I turned into a dove and I could see myself following her as she flew here and there before me. Soon we turned left and came to places of torment, full of horror and mourning everywhere. There the stench was intolerable and an impenetrable darkness prevailed; there was inextinguishable fire and cold beyond cure. There was everything that was bad, the total absence of good,25 there was suffering and no peace, there was pain and chaotic insanity constantly gathered together.
‘I saw this innumerable multitude of souls subjected to diverse tortures of punishment. While I watched them being dragged from one torment to another in great variety, I was deeply horrified, my mind truly aghast. As I recall to mind the multitude of torments and the duration of these torments, both from the memory of pain and the impulse of pious mercy, I cannot hold back my tears. And if I want to relate all that I happened to see, I could never explain it fully. After seeing all these things, following the dove, my leader, we left behind us these seats of the underworld and I was borne up, steered by the winged oars,26 and by feathered flight entered the skies in front of a lordly tribunal; I, as a dove, with the guiding dove, stopped there.
‘The maker and ruler of everything appeared to me, the Lord presiding and the choirs of angels in highest majesty. The angels fed off this glorious sight and all the elect were filled with a wonderful scent, and His radiant brightness seemed to illumine the heavens. His attire was wondrous and of the most precious gold, and it was bordered magnificently with the most precious gems. At His right sat the glorious Virgin and Mother Mary, adorned in a robe wonderful beyond description. A host of numerous angels was there, too, and a choir of all the saints was also in attendance, rejoicing with them.
‘Standing among them and very close to the Lord I saw a certain boy of incomparable beauty. To him the greatest honour was being paid by all and his face shone pleasingly more brightly than the sun. His robe was similar to that of the Lord in every way – that is in colour, gems and gold – as if one robe was cut from the other. I was truly amazed by this, especially since I noticed that the costume of the little boy was equal in quality to the Lord’s; I wanted to know who this was and I did not hesitate to ask the dove, my leader. And she said: “This is the glorious boy and martyr William, who was killed by the Jews in derision of the Lord’s Passion and who has greatly adorned the city of Norwich with his martyrdom. And since he imitated Christ in the passion of death, he deserves to be like Christ Himself in the honour of a purple robe.” And a voice from the throne spoke to me: “Go, little girl, and as long as you live strive to show virginal service to this boy and virgin whom you see. Work hard at this, as a virgin persevering in the veneration of another virgin. Have him as your special friend, and you will perceive him to be the most trusted advocate.” Having heard and reflected upon all of this, I quickly departed from there, following the dove, and I was restored to my previous place and to my former shape. In the morning I finally woke up and informed my parents of this most pleasing vision and at their advice have come to tell you about it.’
Having heard this and being much amazed by it, we began to bless and glorify God, who reveals to us the unknown for the increase of devotion, and who deigns to glorify His saints, even through the witness of poor folk.
[VI] OF A PREGNANT WOMAN MIRACULOUSLY FREED [FROM PAIN]
I have decided to draw attention among the first series of miracles to that illustrious miracle which I have learned was his first. There was a woman called Botilda, wife of Gerard, the monks’ cook,27 and she held a loving devotion
for the blessed martyr. While that illustrious boy and martyr was being buried in the cemetery, she was present with the others and took away a piece of fern, which had been placed at his feet by the devotion of a faithful person; and she strove, guided by a pious instinct, to guard it for future use. After a few of days had passed, she – who was pregnant – went into labour.28 When she had been suffering more and more for fifteen days, and having taken many medicines, but having benefited from none, she drank up all the blessed water of some relics and did not profit from that either. When it seemed that she had reached the end of her life, under the pressure of the greatest pain, she raised her eyes up and stretched her arms right and left. In her anguish she rapidly looked this way and that, and suddenly she saw that little branch of fern, hanging on the wall beside her, and she said to those around her: ‘Oh, miserable me, I am so forgetful! By forgetting I have delayed my own cure. Quickly take that branch of fern and bring it to me to drink soaked in holy water.’ Once this was done, holding the goblet, she said: ‘Glorious boy and martyr William, deign to show how great is your merit with God and stretch out the most pious right hand of your virtue over me, your imperilled servant.’ Once she had said this, she drank to the last all that was in the cup.
What wonderful speed29 and what a fitting nature of things! The drink quickly descended from the top to her stomach and after a short while a boy came forth from her womb into the light. And so it happened, as can be truly told, that the one was ingested so that the other [the baby] would be removed and come forth. So at last the woman was free and she joyfully gave thanks to almighty God, who through the growing merits of His glorious martyr William freed her so effectively – within an instant – from the pressure of imminent danger.
The Life and Passion of William of Norwich (Penguin Classics) Page 12