Saint Alban in Odense, part 2 - is it medievalism?

 
Today is the feast of Saint Alban, protomartyr of Britain. Last year on this date, I wrote a blogpost addressing some aspects of the cult of Saint Alban in Odense, Denmark, which became the centre of a local cult when King Knud IV (r.1080-86), later Saint Knud Rex, brought the relics of Alban from England to the episcopal church in Odense, dedicated to Saint Alban and the Virgin Mary.

Since Scandinavia was extensively Christianised from England, the presence of the cult of Saint Alban in various places – such as Selja in Norway and Odense in Denmark – is not surprising. What makes Odense a somewhat special case, however, is that the cult seems to have enjoyed some longevity, and even cast shadows into the postmedieval period. It is one of these shadows that I will talk about briefly in this year’s Saint Alban blogpost.

One of the dominant features of Odense’s cityscape is the brewery, founded in 1859, located close to the river and situated within the old medieval city centre. The name of this brewery is Albani bryggeri, Alban’s brewery, a name that originates in the medieval veneration of Saint Alban in Odense. At first glance, this appears to be a form of medievalism, i.e., the conscious employment of elements or references that invoke the medieval past, often for purposes of catching the attention of a specific audience. In Scandinavian cities and towns, such invocations of the medieval past is very common, and form a part of the local identity-construction. One other example related to Saint Alban in Odense is the Catholic parish church of Saint Alban’s, consecrated in 1908, which effectively serves as a modern reiteration of now-lost medieval church. But that is for another blogpost.       

The reference to Saint Alban embedded into the name of Albani brewery in Odense was one of several cases of medievalism pertaining to saints that I compiled in preparation for a talk back in 2020. Eventually, however, as I was forced to sharpen my definitions of what actually constitutes medievalism in a modern urban setting, I came to doubt my initial classifications. I now firmly believe that despite its undeniable medieval origin, the reference to Saint Alban in Albani brewery is not a case of medievalism.   

The Albani breweries in Odense
Photo by Kåre Thor Olsen
Courtesy of Wikimedia

For something to be classified as medievalism, the invocation of the medieval past must be deliberate and serve in some way to promote the entity that employs that invocation. If the entity in question is a city, the invocation of the medieval past serves to formulate a connection between the modern city and its history, emphasising its longevity, imbuing the city with an aura of age or authenticity. If the entity is an institution, for instance a commercial enterprise, the purpose might be to entice the audience, its customers, to connect with the medieval past in some way through the product sold by the institution in question. Whether that connection to the medieval past is in any way real or substantial is irrelevant, it is enough that the connection appeals to the consumer’s fascination for the medieval past, creating a touchstone that allows the consumer to imagine themselves as a latter-day iteration of whatever medieval element is being employed. For instance, I recently bought a pair of shoes called Viking, which evidently aims at buyers who will feel like latter-day Vikings by virtue of the brand name.           

Considering this definition of medievalism, can we consider the reference to Saint Alban in Albani brewery to be medievalism? The answer is no, because the medieval past is not being invoked in the name, nor is it invoked in the product or its iconography. The logo of the brewery is simply its name, Albani, with a crown atop the A and a four-pointed star atop the i. For a medievalist familiar with the iconography of saints and perhaps blinded by their own topic, it is absolutely possible to see this meagre iconography as alluding to the British protomartyr. One could suggest that the crown refers to the martyr crown bestowed on all those who died for the cause of Christ, and the star could be read as a reference to how Alban was the lamp of faith for the British, as stated in his liturgical office. But such interpretations would be erroneous and anachronistic.     

The logo of the Albani breweries
Courtesy of Wikimedia

Albani brewery was established in 1859, a time when there was a rising Catholic minority in Denmark, but a time when Denmark was still overwhelmingly and staunchly Protestant. And in the unlikely event if there was any widespread knowledge of Alban as a saint of local importance, it is even more unlikely that this knowledge would have been a useful point of reference to attract customers. Moreover, the crown and the star in the logo does not appear to have been common until around 1950 – judging from a gallery of old photos available at the brewery’s website – and such basic signs are too common to be connected to a figure whose life and cult would probably not have resonated with the populace. After all, if the figure of Saint Alban had been an integral part of the brewery’s marketing strategy, the notable absence of the saint himself would make little sense.     

The explanation of the name Albani does stem from the medieval cult of Saint Alban, but not directly, and therefore the name of the brewery is not a case of medievalism. The name is most likely a consequence of the brewery’s placement within the city space, next to Albani gade (Alban’s street), which runs into Albani torv, or Alban’s square. The square and the street, however, do refer to the now-lost medieval church, and it is possible that these names –postmedieval in origin – can be construed as a form of medievalism, since they invoke a medieval structure. I am still not sure about this, however, and the present blogpost is part of my attempt to make a decision on the matter.    

While the street and the square might be seen as forms of medievalism, the name of the brewery seems to be a simple case of geolocational convenience, the name mapped the brewery onto the cityscape. The name Albani is, in other words, intended to grab the attention of its audience. But the tool for grabbing the attention is not an invocation of the medieval past, but a play on the local knowledge of the customers, and its belonging within an urban scene and within the municipality of Odense. But even though the name stems from a medieval point of reference, this in irrelevant to the way that the brewery places itself towards its audience. And for this reason, I argue that we cannot find in Albani brewery a conscious invocation of the medieval past, and therefore no form of medievalism.