"Death shall have no dominion over you": St Winifred of Holywell
"Death shall have no dominion over you": St Winifred of Holywell
Early Saints of the British Isles #1
Welcome to the next installment in my series on early medieval British saints. You can read the introduction to the series here, and a historical overview and summary of the sacramental medieval mindset here. This essay will look at the life of St Winifred, a Welsh martyr from the seventh-century who has been venerated for over 1300 years. St Winifred is the patron saint of North Wales and patroness against unwanted advances. She is recognised as a saint in the Roman Catholic Church, the Eastern Orthodox Church, and the Anglican Communion, and her feast day is celebrated on November 3rd. For most saints, their stories culminate in their martyrdom, but St Winifred’s really begins there, when she is raised from the dead after being slain by a lustful and unwanted suitor…
Introduction
St Winifred, or St Gwenfrewi1 as she is known in Welsh, was born in North Wales sometime in the first half of the seventh century. In the preceding 150 years, much of Britain had been taken over by the pagan Anglo-Saxons, who had begun arriving in Britain from around 450. The existing Romano-British population, who were largely Christian, perished or were subjugated by the warlike Saxons. Those that remained fled to the mountainous, remote areas on the fringes of Britain; Wales, Cornwall and Scotland, where, isolated from the rest of European Christendom, they continued to practice their faith. If you want to know more about the history of the early medieval period, you can read about it in my last essay.
It was in this environment that St Winifred was born in the early part of the seventh century. There is physical evidence of her veneration dating back as far as the eighth-century2, but the earliest written records of her life are two twelfth-century accounts written in Latin, which broadly agree on the details of her life, death, resurrection and later life. The longer and more detailed of the two accounts, the Vita et translatio S. Wenefredae, was written around 1140 by Robert Pennant, Prior of Shrewsbury. The second, the Vita S. Wenefrede, is shorter and less detailed, but largely identical to Prior Robert’s account.3 It has been dated to the twelfth-century and is by an anonymous author. A modern English translation of both Lives is available, and is well worth reading.4 I have based the following retelling of Winifred’s story on these accounts, and all quotes are from the modern English translation mentioned above. I haven’t footnoted each individual quotation because it breaks up the flow of the text, but they are all direct quotes from one of the two twelfth-century sources, primarily Prior Robert’s.
Act I: Birth & Early Life
Winifred was of noble birth, a descendant of the early Welsh kings of Powys, and the only daughter of Teuyth, Lord of the townships of Abeluyc (Trefynnon, later named Holywell). When Winifred was a child, her father welcomed Beuno, a man of noted holiness and one of North Wales’ most revered saints.5 A man of noble birth, St Beuno gave up his wealth and land and became a monk, “living the life of a perfect man in Christ”. Initially he led a solitary life as a hermit before founding a small monastery at Clynnog Fawr, a hamlet on the North Wales coast. St Beuno seems to have had some trouble with the local princes of Clynnog Fawr, so, guided by the Holy Spirit he sought refuge with Teuyth, who gifted him a piece of land. On this land he built a chapel, where he celebrated the Eucharist, referred to by Prior Robert as “the divine mysteries” and preached to the people. Winifred’s parents placed her under the teaching of St Beuno, “admonishing her to pay attention wisely to all of them, and to receive with an open heart what was being said by him”. Winifred was a devoted disciple of St Beuno, and “through the mercy of God inwardly inspiring her, increased daily in goodness and advanced in wisdom, her soul fervently inflamed by the Holy Spirit”. Although the only child of her parents, and therefore their only “hope of increasing their offspring and the succession of their posterity”, at a young age she “determined to renounce utterly every man, and she intended to long for the embraces of God alone”.6
Afraid that this would displease her parents, she initially kept her desire a secret, but eventually confided in St Beuno, her father confessor, and asked for his help in gaining the consent of her parents. St Beuno, “moved by her piety and rejoicing that now the divine seed was sprouting in her” spoke to her parents, who, “because the fullness of divine nectar had imbued their spirits” readily agreed to Winifred’s request and divided what would been Winifred’s inheritance “in various ways to the poor, administering aid to the widows and orphans, and being carefully attentive to the servant of God”. Winifred “with a full heart she hastened on the path of God’s commandments…for love of Him to Whom she had devoted herself, she admitted nothing earthly into herself”. Although still young, Winifred was “mature in morals and venerable at heart" and “whatever of consummate virtue it is fitting for a man to have was found abundantly enough in her, and the fullness of divine grace had poured the whole sufficiently into her.” With her parents blessing she continued under the tutelage of St Beuno and began to prepare for tonsure.
Act II: St Winifred’s Death & Resurrection
For this next section of the story I have adapted and synthesised the two twelfth-century accounts. Most of the dialogue is lifted almost verbatim, as are many of the details. I am not much of a fiction writer, but I had a strong feeling that this section ought to be dramatised, so I hope you enjoy.
The fire crackled merrily on the hearth. Winifred, whose body had been wracked by feverish chills for several days, was glad of its warmth. Her parents had bidden her remain behind so that she could rest and regain her strength, but she longed to be with them celebrating the divine mysteries.
The latch on the door turned and a young man entered the room. Startled, Winifred rose to greet him, recognising by his dress that he was of royal birth. Bowing her head, she spoke humbly, “My lord, what is your purpose?”
Glancing about impatiently, the youth, who was indeed of royal birth, by name Caradoc son of King Alan, responded, “Lady, where is your father? I wish very much to speak with him about a matter of great import to us both.”
“My lord, he is even now at the church yonder, celebrating the divine mysteries. If you require an audience with him then I beg you to wait here a little while for his return.” Something in the young man’s manner gave her pause, why she knew not.
Hearing this, Caradoc did not answer immediately, but paced impatiently around the room, glancing across at Winifred as he did so. After a few moments he spoke, “Lady, I shall patiently await his arrival if you, meanwhile, become my friend and submit to my desire. You know that I am a son of a king, full of riches and many honours; I shall enrich you abundantly if you agree to my request.”
Moving closer to her, and laying his hand on her arm, he continued. “O dearest maiden, agree to my plans and grant me the intimacy of lovers, for I desire you passionately.”
“My lord what utterance is this?” Winifred replied, realising the wretched man was inflamed by lust, “Shall a man so highborn as you condescend to a maiden common as I? Sir, I cannot do this, for I am betrothed to another man, whom I soon must marry.”
Caradoc’s face clouded with anger, and he seized her other arm in a vice like grip. “Cease talking this nonsense at once and agree to sleep with me. I am mortally tormented by desire for you and will have you as my wife, whether you will or no.”
His eyes flashed frantically as he spoke, and Winifred, perceiving that his mind was overwhelmed with passion, and that he was made more insane by her parents absence, resolved to remove herself from his grasp by any pretext, before he overpowered her with violence. Uttering a silent prayer to her heavenly betrothed, she spoke:
“My lord, I beg you will forgive me. I am chagrined because you found me unkempt and unadorned. Since you, born of royal stock, will soon be a king, God willing, I do not doubt that I should be richly filled with worldly happiness joined in marriage to you. However, be patient a little while until my father arrives, and I, meanwhile, will go into my bedroom, so that, wearing the proper clothes, I can more suitably embrace you.”
The prince, relaxing his grip on her arm, relented a little; “If there is no tarrying, it will not seem too much for me to wait for you a little while. Go now, but on your return you will be subject to my will.” He stood by to let her pass, and she entered her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Without lingering, Winifred went out through the door of her room on the other side, and ran swiftly down the valley towards the church, where the divine mysteries were still being celebrated. If I can only reach the church, she thought, I will be protected and defended. Even if my attacker does not fear God, he will surely hesitate to attack me before a crowd of people. She ran as fast as she could, stumbling a little over the uneven hillocks of grass. Her breath caught, ragged, in her throat as she forced her stiff limbs to obey her will. Behind her she heard a howl of rage, and wounded pride, as Caradoc realised she had outwitted him. It is not much further. I am almost at the threshold, she thought, hearing the hooves of his horse behind her. Caradoc, spurring his horse on, overtook her when she was but a few paces from the door of the church. Barring her way, he drew his sword, and looking at her with a savage expression, spoke bitterly: “Once I loved you and wanted to embrace you. Now you flee one who comes to you and despise one who seeks you. Then, know for certain that either you will be united voluntarily to me right away, or you will end your life without delay when your head has been cut off by this sword.”
Winifred turned her eyes toward the church to see if anyone might come to her aid. Seeing that no help was forthcoming, she turned to Caradoc and answered him: “Joined in matrimony to the son of the eternal king and judge of all men, I can accept no other. And lest I detain you longer, I shall admit no one except him while I live, for this could not happen without affront to him. Therefore, draw your sword, put forth your strength, readily use any ferocity you please. Be certain that neither your terrors nor enticements nor promises nor threats can tear me away from the sweetness of that love to whose embraces I am already bound and to whose devotion I am joined.”
On hearing her defiance, he was seized with fury. Bitterly he saw that her resolve would not weaken and that while she lived he could have no peace. He raised his sword arm, and swung it. Swoosh went the steel through the cold morning air. Winifred fell to the ground, her head severed from her body. Where her head touched the earth, a clear spring burst forth and began to flow vigorously, even as her head tumbled down the slope and into the door of the church, amongst the feet of those still celebrating the divine mysteries.
Seized with fear, Winifred’s parents ran to the door of the church, and seeing her lifeless body, they fell weeping to the ground, consumed by sorrow and anguish. Indeed, all those present were filled with fear, and with pity for the grief of her parents. Hearing the commotion of all the people lamenting the maiden’s death, St Beuno left the altar and approached the door. Seeing Winifred so cruelly slain, he was deeply distressed. “Who has committed this abominable sin?” demanded the holy man, looking at Caradoc leaning arrogantly on his sword next to the mutilated body. “I confess, it was I”, boasted Caradoc, “I am a king’s son, and you are powerless to condemn me old man”.
Holding the severed dead of the maiden in his hands, St Beuno looked at the proud young man and addressed him: “O wicked one, with a murderous crime defiling the nature of your youthful beauty and the lineage of your royal dignity, why does it not grieve you to have admitted so great a crime? You have confounded the peace and polluted the church by your sacrilege, and impiously provoked God, and yet you are not sorry. Since you have not spared the church nor shown respect for the Lord’s day, I beseech my God that you now receive fitting recompense for what you have shamefully committed.”
As soon as St Beuno finished speaking Caradoc fell to the ground, dead. Then a strange and wondrous thing happened in the sight of all standing there. The body of the dead youth melted and disappeared, as if swallowed up by the gaping earth itself, and sunk with his soul into the abyss. But St Beuno, kissing the head of the maiden which he held in his hands, was troubled and continued to weep. Arranging the head with the rest of the body, he breathed into the nostrils and covered it with his cloak. Then he bade the parents, who had not ceased weeping for their daughter, to cease from their sorrow. Returning to the altar, he continued to celebrate Mass, and when this was finished he returned to the lifeless body. Raising his hands to heaven, the blessed man earnestly implored God to return life to Winifred’s body, so that the enemy might not gloat over it. When he had finished praying, Winifred arose as if from sleep, filling those standing by with astonishment and joy. She appeared quite unchanged, apart from the appearance of a thin white line, like a thread, that ran around her neck where her head had been severed. Her life restored, she sat with St Beuno upon a rock in the middle of the gushing spring that had appeared where her head had rested on the ground.7 St Beuno, speaking prophetically, told her that: “Whoever shall at any time, in whatsoever sorrow or suffering, implore your aid for deliverance from sickness or misfortune, shall at the first, or the second, or certainly the third petition, obtain his wish, and rejoice in the attainment of what he asked for.”
Act III: Later Life & Death
After she was returned to life, St Winifred led a life of notable holiness. She received the veil, and at first continued to live at the site of her martyrdom, where she attracted eleven disciples. She may also have made a pilgrimage to Rome around this time, although Prior Robert recorded that he had been unable to corroborate this when compiling his account of her life. After seven years had passed she left the site of her martyrdom and eventually came to St Elerius in Gwytherin, where she entered a monastery, which seems to have been a double monastery containing both men and women, headed by Elerius’ mother Tenoi. After Tenoi’s death, Winifred succeeded her as Abbess.
Prior Robert goes to great pains to impress upon his reader the holiness of St Winifred’s life after her resurrection, and the ways in which she was a blessing to the community around her. “She hastened to seize the summit of all religious life, and she stood steadfastly on the peak of all virtues, as if thus far she had been utterly a stranger to this kind of sanctity.” Prior Robert records that “faithful people from everywhere used to hasten there in crowds wishing to see the maiden formerly decapitated for love of Christ, but brought to life again”, and that not only powerful men and nobles, but even robbers received “great edification from her sermons”. He makes several references to St Winifred’s sermons, which she seems to have preached frequently to all classes of society. Prior Robert recorded that
“Countless miracles and cures of the sick granted through her bore powerful witness that she had the power of divinity. Indeed, whoever came to her sick left in good condition…the one who came sad went away rejoicing; one who was oppressed at heart by any trouble or burdened by some outward cause befalling him returned to his own place cheerful…she harmed no one, but in some way benefitted all commonly and individuals particularly.”
Eventually Winifred died, and was buried at Gwytherin. Both of her biographers include a list of miracles that have been attributed to her, although curiously the two lists do not overlap. In 1138 her relics were removed and translated to Shrewsbury Abbey, where they were enshrined in great splendour. St Winifred’s holy well was by this time already an established place of pilgrimage, but the shrine in Shrewsbury was incorporated into the pilgrimage route and attracted many visitors. Sadly, this shrine was destroyed when Shrewsbury Abbey was sold during the Dissolution of the Monasteries in the reign of Henry VIII. A small fragment of the original shrine remains in the surviving Shrewsbury Abbey church, which is a very beautiful building in its own right. I used to live down the road in a house built on land that was once the Abbey’s cherry orchard, and my husband and I got married in Shrewsbury Abbey.
St Winifred’s Holy Well & the sacred nature of water
Early devotion to St Winifred seems to have been limited to the local area, and was primarily focused on the well that sprang up at the site of her death and resurrection. This well, which became known as St Winifred’s Well, gave its name to the surrounding town, which became known as Holywell, or HolyWell. This shrine is unique amongst British sacred sites in that it has retained a continuous pilgrimage tradition for over 1300 years, remaining a site of pilgrimage even through the English Reformation. Sometimes called the Lourdes of Wales, it became a focus of national as well as local veneration from the twelfth-century onwards, with visitors including English monarchs Richard II and Henry IV. It is the only place that can be identified in the late medieval romance Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and the nineteenth century poet Gerard Manley Hopkins expressed its importance as a place of pilgrimage,
“Here to this holy well shall pilgrimages be,
And not from purple Wales only nor from elmy England,
But from beyond seas, Erin, France and Flanders, everywhere,
Pilgrims, still pilgrims, more pilgrims, still more poor pilgrims.
. . . . . . . . . . .
What sights shall be when some that swung, wretches, on crutches
Their crutches shall cast from them on heels of air departing
Or they go rich as roseleaves hence that loathsome came hither!”8
Attempts to stop pilgrims from visiting the shrine during the English Reformation failed, and many miracles have been attributed to the well, from the twelfth century to the present. The Reformers regarded the veneration of holy wells as a pagan superstition that was not compatible with true Christianity. I think to most Westerners the idea of a holy well seems a bit superstitious or kooky, so I want to attempt to explain the medieval point of view.
Last week I wrote about how early Christians understood the world as sacramental and full of intrinsic meaning. Early Christian cosmology emphasised that “God did not remain aloof from His creation but became incarnate, filling the world with heavenly immanence.” The sacraments in particular were understood as enabling believers to participate in the eternal divine life of the Trinity, but the spiritually transformative power of the Incarnation extended far beyond church walls:
The sacredness of water is evident throughout the Bible: during creation the Spirit of God hovers over the water. Water is used to cleanse the earth of evil during the flood. Water drowns the armies of Pharoah and delivers the people of Israel from their hand during the Exodus. In Amos, justice rolls down like the waters, and righteousness is an everflowing stream.9 Holy wells that cure the sick are referred to in the Gospels themselves - I’m (re)reading the Gospel of John at the moment, and earlier this week I read the passage about the paralytic by the pool in John 5:4: “For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool, and troubled the water: whosoever then first after the troubling of the water stepped in was made whole of whatsoever disease he had.”
“Jesus answered and said to her, ‘Whoever drinks of this water will thirst again, but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life”
John 4:13-14
Modern people typically understand references like this in a symbolic way, but that was not the case in the early church. Tertullian, writing about baptism in the third-century, reflected on the role of water in God’s saving plan. “It reads so much like a praise of the material substance that at one point the author felt it necessary to apologize mid-sentence and remind the reader of the real purpose of water: to bear the Holy Spirit to man.”10 After describing the numerous ways in which God used water to communicate His grace to the world prior to the institution of baptism, Tertullian concludes “that the material substance which governs terrestrial life acts as agent likewise in the celestial.”11 Commenting, John Strickland concludes that “in other words, God had joined earth to heaven through the sacramental power of water.”12
“Rather than seeing places like holy wells as ‘pagan’ sites which have been ‘appropriated’ by cunning or naive Christians, I see them as naturally sacred places, which attract the religious mind. Christians can as legitimately lay claim to these places as anyone else. The symbolism of water, after all, is deeply woven into the fabric of the Christian story. This is a faith in which spiritual rebirth is obtained through triple immersion in a river; in which holy water can bless and protect people and places; whose scriptures are replete with images of springs in the desert, wells and rivers; whose founder healed a blind man by sending him to bathe in a sacred pool. The church was born in the Jordan. A Christian, if you ask me, has as much business praying at a holy well as anyone else.”
The Canon to St Winifred clearly links the healing power of St Winifred’s well to the power of Christ working through the sacramental nature of water:
“With the waters of Winifred’s holy well are we cured of maladies of body and soul, for the Lord drew forth a wondrous spring where fell her severed head. Therefore, let us chant unto our God, for He hath been glorified! “
“Now let us praise Christ; for, honouring the holy maiden, He filleth her spring with an upwelling of grace, that those who immerse themselves in its watery depths may find ease for their pain and sorrows, for He is all-glorious.”
“Death had no dominion over thee, O glorious Winifred, for as thy well gusheth forth miraculous cures continually, so did thy grave become a wellspring of healing for the afflicted.”
Some reflections
The story of St Winifred is a strange and confronting one. It is a story of impossible happenings that makes no sense according to modern ways of understanding the world. However, I think there is much that we can learn from it.
One of the things that struck me most about this story are the two contrasting visions of manhood it offers, as well as a vision of womanhood that was and is countercultural.
recently wrote about the idea of “chiasm”13, or cross-shape expounded by contemporary Orthodox philosopher Timothy Patitsas in his book The Ethics of Beauty:The real way that Christian gender is inverted from the world’s is that in Christ each gender not only dies and is reborn, but in being reborn comes to a dynamic rest as the truest symbol not of its own life but of its partner’s role and life. Men come to symbolize best the feminine prophetic office, while women come to symbolize best the masculine kingly office… This is how the genders are deeply reconciled in Orthodox life, in a loving act of mutual indwelling and self-offering. (The Ethics of Beauty, emphasis original)
I find this an absolutely fascinating concept, and it makes so much sense in the context of St Winifred’s story.
Caradoc, the proud prince who murders Winifred, is a powerful man, full of vitality and will. His guiding principle seems to have been that might is right, and he attempted to use his might to take what he deemed to be his by right. His lust is regarded as a great sin by both narrators of Winifred’s life, and both view him as being possessed and controlled by it. I was reminded of Mary Wollstonecraft’s lament that “The little respect paid to chastity in the male world is, I am persuaded, the grand source of many of the physical and moral evils that torment mankind, as well as of the vices and follies that degrade and destroy women.” St Beuno, by contrast, is self-controlled, patient, charitable and kind. He is also disciplined, unswerving in his commitment to what is right, and fearless in the face of the murderous Caradog. He is not weak, but his power is not exercised to tyrannise or compel, but to shepherd and guide gently.
St Winifred challenges us to re-examine our preconceived notions of what godly manhood and womanhood look like. I don’t mean that her story should be weaponized as a cudgel in the culture war - far from it! My intention is the opposite. However, in the midst of an online discourse that feels increasingly vitriolic and hostile, where I have seen men who call themselves Christian claim that women are only useful for having babies, she offers a vision of womanhood that doesn’t fit neatly into the pigeonholes of our current cultural divide.
St Winifred is chaste and pure, but her calling is not to be a wife and mother. I don’t think we should interpret this to mean that marriage and motherhood are a lesser calling, although that idea certainly did develop in some later medieval thought. Marriage is the default in the story for men and women, and children naturally flowed from marriage. This is evident by St Winifred’s reluctance to tell her parents of her desire to take the veil. She knows that according to the social norms of her time her duty is to marry and continue her father’s line. Her decision to live a life of chastity is portrayed less as a rejection of marriage per se, and more as participation in a marriage to Christ: Winifred is “willing to be given in marriage to no one except the Son of God”, and Prior Robert refers to Christ as “her Betrothed” frequently in his narrative.
Furthermore, whilst Winifred is consistently portrayed as meek and humble, willingly submitting to the leadership of St Bueno and embracing asceticism and self denial, she also exercises a public ministry of preaching and teaching to both men and women at all levels of society. Prior Robert particularly highlights the impact her public ministry has on men, as well as her influence on the spiritual formation of her fellow nuns.
Winifred’s public ministry does not pose a problem for the twelfth-century (male) authors of her Lives. The authors, informed by their sacramental worldview, assume that humanity is a sexually dimorphic species and that “man” and “woman” are not meaningless labels, but terms that express a deep and intrinsic reality. Men and women are not interchangeable sexless beings. Yet as well as affirming the reality of sexual difference, St Winifred’s story also illuminates the limits of that difference, and underlines that the fundamental divide is between those who submit to the will of Christ and those who don’t. The Christ-like figures of St Beuno and St Winifred are clearly contrasted with the unredeemed and unrepentant Caradoc, who is explicitly identified as being part of the forces of the Devil by Prior Robert. This is not merely symbolic - no, it is a deeply embodied reality. Winifred is a “dwelling of God” whilst her enemy is referred to as “the Enemy of the human race”.
As I discussed in my last essay, the sacramental nature of reality was taken for granted by almost everyone at this time. Christian thought and life was deeply rooted in the truth of the incarnation, which ennobled and sanctified the entire physical creation. In the Nicene Creed, which was recited as every Divine Liturgy, the faithful across all of Christendom affirmed this powerful truth:
“I believe…in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all ages; Light of Light, true God of true God, begotten, not created, of one essence with the Father through Whom all things were made. Who for us men and for our salvation came down from heaven and was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary and became man.”
Incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary and became man. Christ was incarnate as a man, but His human body was formed in and nourished by the body of a woman, the Virgin Mary, blessed Theotokos, the mother of God. Thus the Incarnation transformed and blessed both manhood and womanhood.14
The Canon of St Winifred - “Suffering death for thy virginity, O Holy Winefride,/ through the mercy of God thy body was made whole and restored to life. /Thy healing grace flows in streams of living water./ Pray to God for us that our souls may be saved!”
Thank you so much for reading. I have loved learning about St Winifred, a remarkable young woman who greatly impacted not only those she lived amongst, but generations of people who came after her. There is so much more that could be written, and I feel like I have only scratched the surface of St Winifred’s story here.
Pronouned GWEHNVReh-Wiy or Gwen-fre-wi.
The earliest surviving object connected with St. Winifred is park of an oak reliquary box, which was drawn by Edward Lhuyd in 1668. The Arch (‘chest’ in Welsh) was all but destroyed by a priest selling off parts of it as relics, however at least one piece has survived.
There are two main details that the anonymous Vita includes that Prior Robert omits. The first is a pilgrimage by Winifred to Rome, a story that Prior Robert was aware of and mentions, but says he has omitted on the grounds that he was unable to corroborate it by documents or oral sources. The second is the claim that after her pilgrimage to Rome, Winifred attended a synod that was “attended by all the saints of Britain”. The anonymous Vita refers to this synod as the Synod of Winifred, and claims that at this synod it was agreed that “the saints who previously had lived dispersed and alone, having no rule but their will, would henceforth come together in suitable places and amend their way of life under prefects appointed for them” (Pepin & Feiss, Two Medieval Lives of Saint Winefride, p.102). There are no other references to a “Synod of Winifred” ever taking place, so modern scholars have posited that the author of the anonymous Vita is probably inaccurately referring to the Synod of Whitby, which took place in 664. I thought this was a fascinating anecdote about the replacement of a decentralised, often solitary form of monasticism practised by Celtic Christians with a more centralised, institutionalised monasticism that came to predominate in Western Christendom.
Ronald Pepin and Hugh Feiss, Two Medieval Lives of Saint Winefride (Wipf & Stock Publishers, 2011)
Beuno is usually referred to as Winifred’s uncle by modern retellings of the story, however neither of the two twelfth-century Lives refer to him in this way. I haven’t been able to find an early source affirming this connection so I have left it out, but if anyone knows of a source that confirms it I would love to hear about it. Beuno is a notable figure in his own right, and his credited with performing many miracles, including raising seven people from the dead over the course of his life. Whether or not he was related to Winifred by blood, he was certainly her spiritual father in the faith.
There are no exact dates or ages specified in either of the two Lives, however both clearly imply that Winifred was little more than a child when she first formed this desire.
This rock became known as St Beuno’s stone. The traditional method of bathing in St Winifred’s Well is to pass three times through the small pool adjacent to the spring while reciting one decade of the Rosary, and then to move into the outer pool and kneel on a submerged stone, believed to be St Beuno's stone, for as long as it takes to complete the prayer.
This forms part of an unfinished poem Hopkins wrote on the martyrdom of St Winifred. The wonderful poem ‘The Leaden Echo and the Golden Echo’, read here by Richard Burton, was originally meant to form part of this longer work.
Amos 5:24
John Strickland, The Age of Paradise (Ancient Faith Publishing, 2019), p.50
Quote via Strickland, The Age of Paradise, p.50
Strickland, The Age of Paradise, p.50