St Edmund for England

Hear our Ballad for St Edmund here

Read my full page Lynn News feature on why St Edmund (as in Bury St Edmunds and Hunstanton St Edmund) should be England's patron saint.

 

St Edmund - born the King of Angles

St Edmund was our first patron saint. King Edward III replaced him with St George in 1348. Like Richard the Lionheart, who adopted it as his personal symbol during the third crusade (late 12C), Edward preferred George's red cross to the white dragon of St Edmund.

Why was this? Ultimately because Edmund, though a brave soldier, was not the all-conquering Norman type Richard and Edward admired: leaders of a crusading warrior-nation, riding to rule the world.

It is not St George's fault that his flag has been misused in some quarters. Hating other nations is hardly what the soldier-saint had in mind with his blood-red cross on a pure white background.

But it is illogical anyway since St George (whose flag is also sacred to Georgia, Genoa, Sardinia and Barcelona) was a Turk who almost certainly never set foot in England. When extremists raise St George's standard to defend 'England their England,' they are using an immigrant flag to do it.  Not to mention the symbol of an Eastern faith that preaches 'love your neighbour as yourself.'

St Edmund the Martyr, born on Christmas Day 841 AD, appears more Christ-like. He became King of the East Angles in AD 855 - the ruined chapel at St Edmund's Point in Old Hunstanton is said to mark the site where he landed from Germany. He fought the heathen Norsemen until defeated and captured by the 'Great Heathen Army' at the Battle of Hoxne (on the Norfolk-Suffolk border) in AD 870.

On 20 November 870, he was tied to a tree, shot full of arrows and beheaded. The head was used as a football by jeering Danes, in an anything but beautiful game.

Edmund's army recovered his body then (the legend goes) spent 40 days searching for his head. Lost in a dark wood, they shouted to each other "Where are you?" until the head itself answered "Hic, hic!" (Here! here!)

Edmund's perfectly preserved head was found at rest between the paws of a grey wolf. On being brought to its body, it miraculously re-attached itself.

Some make a case for St Edmund over St George on the basis of Englishness. That misses a larger point. Born the future king of Angles, in Nuremberg, it is not his birthplace but his shedding blood for Angleland (later 'England') on English soil that defines him, just as many of the flying aces defending these shores at the Battle of Britain were Eastern European, 10% of them Poles.

Though they tortured him to death, Edmund's refusal to renounce his faith converted his torturers. He thus integrated two enemy peoples, two of the chief blood and culture lines of England, under a common banner.

While I am doubtless swayed by a regional preference for a heritage-boosting first millennium patron saint with Old Hunstanton/ East Anglian connections,  it is really this link to the original Christmas message of death-defying reconciliation that makes me wish St Edmund, not crusade-forged St George, was England's patron saint again.

The Ballad of St Edmund, Patron St. Of England (until 1348.) 
The historical argument
The religious argument

Patron saint of England

Usurped by a George

Who killed Arabs and dragons
With a holy sword.

Whose Cross of St George

And Christ's cavalry

Rode a different mount

From Calvary,

Red as Christ's blood,

White as chivalry

But shouldn't our Saint

Be an Angle like me?

You can shoot me with arrows

And chop off my head

But the Christ within me

Will never be dead.

Once I waded ashore

To claim my own kingdom

On the honeyed cliffs

Of Old Hunstanton.

At the battle of Hoxne

Near old Diss town

Where Suffolk meets Norfolk

I lost my crown

To that terrible Viking

Ivar the Boneless

Whose torture-arrows

Sainted my flesh.

You can shoot me with arrows

And chop off my head

But the Christ within me

Will never be dead.

Ha! Renounce my Faith?

Take Might as my Lord?

I who wear my heart

Like a soldier's sword?

"My God, My God!"

I scream till I'm dead.

They play Viking football

With my severed head.

In a thick wood my people

Lose one another

"Where are you? And where's

The head of our Martyr?"

You can shoot me with arrows

And chop off my head

But the Christ within me

Will never be dead.

"Hic hic, over here!"

My head wolf-cries,

Holy spirit of England

That never dies.

Between a wolf's paws

They find, in wonder

My head that to body

Returns un-sundered.

Howling 'don't make a Richard,

An Edward, a Norman,

A lionheart brute

Of the spirit of England.'

You can shoot me with arrows

And chop off my head

But the Christ within me

Will never be dead.

Red as Christ's blood,

White as chivalry

But shouldn't our Saint

Be an angel like me?

And also its brother double page feature in the EDP on St Felix (as in Felixtowe, Babingley, Dunwich, Gt Ryburgh...)

The print edition (23 Dec) of the Lynn News includes the Ballad of St Edmund and other pictures.

St Felix - from here to Eternity (EDP article)

He came to England from his native Burgundy in c 631. He fixed his episcopal see as the Bishop of Dunwich, then a thriving Suffolk seaport, ruling his diocese for 17 years. He died in c648. His name survives in Felixstowe. His legacy, according to the available 8th century sources, is nationwide and eternal.

The Venerable Bede in his "Ecclesiastical History of the English People" (c731) tells us how the evangelical exertions of Sigeberht, King of East Anglia, converted in exile, "were nobly promoted by Bishop Felix, who, coming to Honorius, the archbishop, from the parts of Bergundy, where he had been born and ordained… was sent by him to preach the Word of life to the aforesaid nation of the Angles "and delivered "all the province of East Anglia from long-standing unrighteousness and unhappiness." Praise indeed.

The only other documentary source - the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle - sings from the same hymn sheet. A gentler, kinder civilisation blew in from Christian Europe and the heathen English embraced it. Felix Culpa!

This felicitous 'golden age' - the century between Christian conversion and the Viking invasions - is usually consigned to the mists of romance. A time of wonders,  saints' miracles and folk tales.

Like the one about St Felix's triumphant entry to England. A tempest forced him inland up the Babingley River, between Castle Rising and Wolferton in West Norfolk. Such was its ferocity that he could not escape it unaided and a colony of beavers came to his rescue: a 'miracle' celebrated on the Babingley village sign which includes both Saint Felix and a beaver being handed a bishop's mitre by the grateful saint! A reminder that beavers were native fauna until the 16C and, incidentally, evidence that this faith-story is a very old one.

But we no longer have to abandon Felix's golden age to the 'non-history' which Christian scholar C.S Lewis calls "one of those phantom periods for which the historian searches in vain."

Because last month, at waterlogged Great Ryburgh, those down-to-earth diggers stuck their shovel in. Trial trenches put in by archaeologist Matt Champion ahead of landowner Gary Boyce's  planning application for a lake and flood defence system revealed 6 plank-lined Anglo-Saxon graves, believed to be the oldest of their kind found in Britain, alongside 81 coffins made from hollowed oak trunks.

Finding intact timber graves of this age is almost miraculous, due to wood’s tendency to leave little more than a smudge in the earth. “The combination of acidic sand and alkaline water created the perfect conditions for the skeletons and wooden graves to survive,” explained excavation leader James Fairclough.

Traces of a timber structure believed to have been a church were also found. The fact the graves face East, with timber posts but no grave goods, suggest the dead were Christians (not Roman or prehistoric.) Historic England believes the exceptionally well-preserved graves (with their consequent clarity of details of Anglo-Saxon practices) date from between the 7th and 9th centuries and were "the final resting place for a community of early Christians." The historic bishop St Felix would have been known to such a community.

Research continues as to where the bodies came from, how they were related and what their diet and health was like.

Meanwhile, to get an early prediction of what the archaeology might tell us about these converted Christian communities, I contacted Gary Rossin, director of the Historical and Archeological research project in Sedgeford. The Sedgeford dig has documented 300 Saxon Christian burials over 20 years but, intriguingly,  only 10 were in coffins - most were shroud or crouch burials. Coffins normally indicate status. 81 coffins is a lot of status.

Mr Rossin added that Christian conversion will often be archaeologically indicated by changes to a more ascetic diet - fish, eggs and milk often preferred to red meat - and the promotion of metalwork and literacy (for the monks, indicated by styli). These very rapid cultural changes following conversion were typically top-down, the model being St Felix's partnership with the convert King Sigeberht. "He probably wouldn't have gone direct to the village blacksmith," commented Mr Rossin.

Christianization would be evidenced in a new template, a new standardized ordering of society, new layouts of buildings and burials. While the new broom of Christianity didn't make a clean sweep of the existing culture, it nudged and pushed everything in a Christian direction. A society being led away - if not from a belief in the miraculous and supernatural per se - then at least from fetishistic beliefs and heathen practices towards a more rational and enlightened spirituality. St Felix rocks up and everything changes. Very quickly.

Felix really started something. We may think of our round-towered Saxon churches (Norfolk has 124 of the 185 still standing in England) as monuments of ancient Christianity  but Felix was there earlier, building in wood (the main material for church buildings in East Anglia for 400 years after him.) And his missionaries chose sites that have remained 'holy' longer than even stone can stand.  Ecclesiastical foundations and missionary stations were often established among Roman ruins, because of the desire for the ideals of Roman culture ('romanitas') and to associate Christianity with it. Early Christians also liked the way ruins marked off the religious world from the everyday.

The site of the ruined church of St James on the crest of a slight hill at Bawsey on what is now in the Gaywood valley of West Norfolk is thought to have provided the missionaries just this required division of the worldy from the holy, combined with an easy navigation into the world they wished to evangelize
What St Felix brought to these islands certainly endures. The unusual church of Saint Andrew in Great Ryburgh, with its Saxon round tower and distinctive cruciform shape (and chancel re-ordered in 1912 to give a feeling of space and light) is testament to the ability of Christianity to re-invent its evangelizing spirit through time. It is fitting to see, on its famous Screen, on which Saints are depicted and named, St. Felix included, as 1st Bishop of East Anglia, 630. 

Much else has altered, even East Anglian geography. St James' at Bawsey no longer occupies the 'otherworldy' location it did, flung out to sea on the raised Bawsey peninsula and marked off by a substantial ditch. It is now several miles inland.

The original hub of St Felix's mission, Dunwich, once a Roman fort and the capital of a Saxon Kingdom, denoted in Domesday Book as one of the largest ports on the east coast with a thriving fishing industry and around 3,000 residents,  is today a few cottages, a church, a pub, a small visitor centre and the ruins of a friary, with a population of about 100.

Coastal erosion, coupled with the growing spit of land, actually created by the 13C a near perfect harbour, where ships from the Continent could be safe from gales. Dunwich boomed. But by the 14C, the old port had to be abandoned. Over 400 houses were swept away in a single storm. In the 17C, the sea washed out the high street and reached the market place.  

St Felix's holy foundations appear to have been stronger. The coasts of East Anglia may crumble but his "Word of life to the aforesaid nation of the Angles" has lasted not just to Domesday but a thousand years beyond.

Leonard Cohen (1934-2016) Death of A Ladies Man

Read this obituary as published in The Lynn News

Cohen, with Suzanne

The name of this website ('Bard on the wire") is a homage to  Cohen's famous song Bird on the Wire. Here's my tribute to the Canadian folksinger, who die in November 2016.

Standing on Purfleet Quay by the statue of George Vancouver (born Lynn June 1757) and his painfully achieved coastal chart of North West America feels like the perfect place to remember Canadian folk singer Leonard Cohen. It's all there. Cohen's use of water to convey the spiritual depths beneath urban experience ("Now Suzanne takes your hand/ And she leads you to the river/ She is wearing rags and feathers from Salvation Army counters"); that sense of a great outside world washing up  in the silt in every harbour ("heroes in the seaweed… children in the morning"); the spirit's life as a sea-adventure ("And Jesus was a sailor/ When He walked upon the water,") sudden epiphanies penetrating the clouds. ("And the sun pours down like honey/On Our Lady of the harbour.")

Countless bedsit dwellers all at sea in the 1970s tuned in to Cohen's life-buoy psalms. I always scorned the parrotry that he made 'wrist-slashing' music. It was the chirpy cheep cheeps that depressed me.

His lyrics were as deep as his voice later became. "I was born to this, I had no choice/I was born with the gift of a golden voice' he joked as he plumbed ever-lower registers in the autumn of his life. More like the rust-gold on an old sinking battleship.

Cohen faced the realities of love and mortality like some prophet off an Old Testament mountain, applying the scriptures once sung by his rabbi grandfather to illuminate real life. "Dance me to your beauty like a burning violin" was more Song of Solomon than Tin Pan Alley; "Hallelujah" as much actual gospel as gospel music.

He brought ancient wisdom to the relationships, gender and social politics of our day, gave them eternal context.  He inhabited the world of popular music for more than six decades avoiding the empty noise of its shallower vessels. He once quoted the Bible on  a passport application "If I forget thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth."

He may not have had a secret chart for the 'smoky' life of the spirit but in his  20 album new-old testament, he has left one for the rest of us.  Like Vancouver he charted a complex and enriching map.

"Doin different - 39 new ballads from the East of England" by Gareth Calway (Poppyland publishing) is on sale in Waterstones, True's Yard and Hanse House.

A song from the loneliest room

A view of the studio albums, worst to best. (very unfair on 'Recent Songs' in my opinion and omitting the unmissable 'Live Songs' altogether, with its otherwise unavailable rough and ready gems like 'Queen Victoria', but really well informed and thoughtful.)