Today, August 10, is the feast of Saint Lawrence, an early Christian saint made famous, in part, through his inclusion in the hagiographic poem Liber Peristephanon, book of the martyrs, by Prudentius. Lawrence, or Laurentius, was one of the major universal saints of Latin Christendom, and his feast was celebrated in all calendars. The present blogpost, however, is not so much about Saint Lawrence, interesting though he is, but rather about an event in which Lawrence's feast-day figures as a temporal marker. The event unfolded in the Danish episcopal see of Ribe, and it is recorded in the anonymous Chronicon Ripense, Chronicle of Ribe, believed to have been written c.1230. The chronicle has been edited by Ellen Jørgensen, and there exists a Danish translation by Helge Søgaard.
The anonymous account provides an overview of the episcopacy of Radulph, an Englishman who had been the chancellor of King Valdemar I (r.1157-82) and who became bishop of Ribe around 1160. The chronicle's dating is imprecise, and Helge Søgaard suggests that Radulph began as bishop in 1162, whereas the surviving text of the chronicle has 1152 instead. Radulph was a controversial man, and his inauguration as bishop was delayed four years pending charges of murder and apostasy, but eventually he began his office as bishop of Ribe.
The episcopacy of Radulph was a dynamic period, perhaps in part due to the ongoing rift between the Danish archbishop, Eskil of Lund, and King Valdemar I. One episode, the one that I will focus on here, provides a view of one of the rifts between the bishop and the clerics at the cathedral. According to Chronicon Ripense, Bishop Radulph sought to appoint his chaplain, a certain Vincent, as a cathedral canon. The other canons were deeply averse to this, and the reason appears to be that a canon should be elected by the other canons, and not appointed by the bishop. The hierarchical structure of the church community was clearly delineated, and the election of its members was one of the prerogatives of the chapter of canons.
The matter of Vincent's appointment was so contentious that it came to blows, and the anonymous Ribe chronicler describes how the bishop's clothes were torn, and how the head of the cathedral school, a certain Boniface, was beaten up in the chapter house. Judging from the location, this must have been during one of the regular community meetings, that in most, if not all, ecclesiastic and monastic communities took place in chapter. The conflict led to an interdict being placed on Ribe, and this interdict - during which all church services in the diocese were null and void - began on August 10, Saint Lawrence's day, and lasted until Maundy Thursday. The right of the canons to elect their members was then confirmed.
The story of the tumult in Ribe cathedral might at first seem odd, or perhaps amusing, but most importantly it is a window into the complex world of medieval ecclesiastic and monastic communities. These communities were comprised of people of diverse personalities, and often with diverse aims and opinions about how to achieve those aims. They were communities in which life was balanced by rights and duties, privileges and demands, and where life was guided by custom and institutional identity. For the canons at Ribe, the appointment of someone by the bishop was a breach of that balance by which the community sustained itself. Consequently, that the controversy resulted in a fist fight is not necessarily indicative of the ease with which medieval ecclesiastics resorted to violence - although that was by no means rare - but it should perhaps primarily be seen as an indicator of how serious this matrix of rights and duties were to the canons. We are reminded, in other words, that the medieval world was, as all human worlds are, infinitely complex and often surprising.
