Saint Mildþrýð of Thanet
The thirteenth of July is the Orthodox feast day of Saint Mildþrýð [or Mildred] of Minster-in-Thanet, the descendant of Saints Æþelberht and Berhte of Kent, called ‘fairest lily of the English’ by her Benedictine hagiographer Goscelin de Saint-Bertin: ‘a protector of widows and orphans, and comforter of all the poor and afflicted, and in all things she was humble and gentle.’
Her Kentish royal heritage is a main feature of each of Saint Mildþrýð’s hagiographies. She was the daughter of Saint Æbbe (also yclept Domne Eafe or Eormenburg, feast date: 19 November) by her marriage to Merewalh of the Magonsætan; Æbbe being the daughter of Eormenræd King son of Éadbald King (and his wife Emma of Austrasia), son of Æþelberht and Berhte. Mildþrýð was the second of four children, all of whom are considered saints; the others being her sisters – later nuns – Mildburg of Much Wenlock (23 February) and Mildgýð of Northumbria (17 January), and her youngest brother Merefinn who died in his early youth. When their child-getting days were past, Saint Æbbe and Merewalh separated by mutual consent and left their children, their property and themselves to the care of God in the Benedictine Order.
Mildþrýð was sent for her education to the Benedictine Abbaye Notre-Dame-des-Chelles in Neustria – situated on a site now a short ways southeast of Paris. While she was a pupil at this cloister, she apparently caught the eye of a Frankish nobleman who was related to the abbess, Wilcoma. This nobleman importuned the Abbess of Chelles to push Mildþrýð to accept his hand. The abbess thus entreated her, but the young woman replied to her superior that she had been sent to Chelles to be taught, not to be married. The frustrated abbess began to scold her, threaten her and beat her, but Mildþrýð was steadfast in her refusal. At last Abbess Wilcoma, like the wicked king Nebuchadnezzar, dragged her by the hand into a heated oven, and threw her inside. The abbess kept her inside for three hours, expecting not only her flesh but her very bones to have been burnt to cinders. However, even after three hours, there could be heard swan-like strains of fair and pure music within. Just as God had preserved His witnesses Hananiah, Misha’el and ‘Azariah from the wrath of the evil king and the flames of the furnace, so too did He preserve His beloved daughter from the flames and deliver her forth not only unharmed, but shining with joy, fairer than ever. Those nuns who saw this were greatly afraid, and fell on their faces before her as a living saint. But the evil and shameless Abbess of Chelles flew into one of those infamous Frankish-noble rages upon beholding this wonder, throwing her to the ground, beating her, kicking her, scratching her and tearing out her hair.
Somehow, poor Mildþrýð managed to collect some of her torn-out hair and enclosed it into a letter, which, by the grace of God, she managed to have smuggled out of the abbey back to her mother Æbbe in England, who sent for her at once. Ships were sent from the Magonsætan to Paris to fetch her, but Abbess Wilcoma would on no account permit her to leave, fearing that her corruption and cruel deeds would be exposed. Mildþrýð fled to the ships by night, but in her haste she forgot a relic – a nail of the True Cross – and some of her religious garments which she valued deeply. Before coming to the ships, she stole back to Chelles and brought them out safely.
The ships arrived at Ebbsfleet (so yclept because it was where Æbbe’s fleet made land with her daughter), and as Mildþrýð stepped off the ship onto a great square stone that lay off the wharf, the impress of her foot was shown wondrously carved into the stone’s face. This stone was later removed to Minster in memory of Mildþrýð’s return to England; it became known as a wonder-working relic of the virgin saint. It was often removed from its place of honour, however, until a fitting oratory was righted for it to be placed upon.
Mildþrýð was present when her mother Æbbe had consecrated the abbey at Minster. Æbbe had won the land, it seems, when her tame pet doe had been set loose across the isle of Thanet, and she received all the land that lay north of where her doe ran. (This explains why in Orthodox icons like the one shown above, Mildþrýð is seen to be holding a doe.) Finally, with her mother’s blessing, she got her wish when Saint Theodore of Tarsus himself bestowed the nun’s veil upon her along with seventy other women who desired the Benedictine life. As a nun, she was a particularly diligent pupil of Saint Aldhelm of Sherborne, not only in letters and music (for she sang the Psalms beautifully, according to Goscelin) but also in the disciplines of fasting and almsgiving, so essential to the life she had embraced. Her earthly and abbatial mother entrusted her early on with weighty tasks: in 694 she was sent in Lady Æbbe’s place, with the full dignity of an abbess, to represent Minster at a Kentish moot at Beccancelde.
The venerable Mildþrýð succeeded her saintly mother upon her death as abbess of Minster; and the holy foundress and abbess Æbbe was very quickly recognised as a saint thereafter. As for the new Abbess Mildþrýð – as alluded above, she took very seriously the fullness of the Benedictine commitment to the poor, the sick and the needy. She is described as unwearyingly mild, befitting to the full her birth-name, as well as loving and kind in her personal demeanour. Mildþrýð’s noteworthy material aid and service to the poor, the sick, the widows and the orphans was a sublime example for her daughter-nuns to follow, and her hagiographers note that the esprit de corps of Minster under Saint Mildþrýð’s gentle rule was one of self-emptying charity.
There is a legend in her hagiography that one night as Mildþrýð was praying Matins, the Evil One – who was jealous of her spiritual gifts and ascetic accomplishments – snuffed out the candle by whose light she was reading. In the dark she was unable to see to relight it. However, her angel guardian appeared and drove Satan back into the gloom, and by that angel’s radiant light Mildþrýð was able to continue her prayer and finish Matins – and she did so with heartfelt awe and gratitude.
Late in her life, Holy Mother Mildþrýð suffered from much bodily pain. The hurts of old age, however, she bore without complaint, though those who knew her well understood what she suffered without her having to speak or make any outward show of her ailment, and so they doubled their prayers for her. It so happened that one day she beheld a vision of the Holy Spirit descending upon her like a dove – first upon her forehead, and then upon her heart – and she knew that the end of her life was drawing near. She gathered her daughter-nuns about her and begged them to preserve the house of Minster in the same spirit of charity for each other and for the needy outside –
Maintain, my dearest ones, peace and holiness among yourselves, continue to love God diligently, and to do good to your neighbour. In the common needs of the monastery take counsel together, with all your hopes centred upon God, as beseemeth those dwelling in His courts. Lend a willing ear to the aged among you, and decide in all things with prudence. Bear ye one anothers burthens, obey mutually, be of one body and of one spirit, united in the observance of the Rule, true daughters of the house of God; and may the God of peace and of consolation abide for ever with you all!With these parting words Mildþrýð received the Gifts one final time, and reposed in the Lord on the thirteenth of July, in either the year 725 or 732. Venerable Éadburg took her place as abbess. It was during Éadburg’s time that a certain young nun whose job it was to ring the bell fell asleep at the altar; and in a vision Saint Mildþrýð struck her awake, scolding her: ‘This is the oratory, not the dormitory!’
The pre-Schismatic English folk, prior to the Norman invasion, dearly loved their Holy Mothers – to an even greater degree, as we saw with Saint Æþelþrýð, than even their Holy Fathers. Saint Mildþrýð was no exception. Her popularity among the English, without doubt on account of her material charity and corporal works of mercy in life, outshone even that of Saint Augustine of Canterbury – as shown in the fact that the spot at which the Italian monk had met her great-great-grandfather became known instead as Saint Mildþrýð’s Rock!
In the centuries to come, English coasts would often be plagued by Danish raiders, and under the rule of the Danish Cnut, Mildþrýð’s relics would be translated (amid some rather heartfelt objections from the holy women of Thanet) to Canterbury in 1035. During the iconoclastic reign of Henry VIII, the monastery at Minster was dissolved, though it would be reëstablished prior to the Second World War, in 1937, by some German Benedictine nuns from the Abbey of Saint Wealdburg in Eichstätt, who bore with them one of Saint Mildþrýð’s holy relics!
One final note: a decided note of personal fondness I have for Saint Mildþrýð, is that she shares a name with my late grandmother – my father’s stepmother, Dr Mildred Cooper. A dynamic woman, strong-willed and fearless, she was a native (and fierce local patriot) of Buffalo, New York. In addition, she was a basketball player and a lifelong sports fan, and also a heartfelt champion of racial equality in the form of integrated public education in the DC school system. As a very young man and into my adulthood, I loved her and also somewhat awed and feared her. I was deeply grateful that she made it to Jessie’s and my wedding, and also that she liked Jessie almost at once upon meeting her. I don’t believe she was ever particularly religious – she was brought up Roman Catholic but was decidedly lapsed – but in some ways I can’t help but see a little bit of my grandmother in the hagiography of her namesake. I don’t think she would have put up with abuse in her schooling either – either of herself or of anyone else under her care! At any rate, for God’s handmaid Mildred, I beseech the intercessory prayers of her patron saint – and also for all of us sinners here. Holy Mother Mildþrýð, protectress of widows and orphans, pray to Christ our God that our souls may be saved!
Through constant prayer and frequent fasting,
By ceaseless hymnody and great humility,
The glorious Mildþrýð forsook the allurements of her royal rank,
Trampling underfoot all worldly pride and presumption.
Wherefore, let us imitate her virtues,
That free from all earthly attachments
We may join her at the wedding feast of Christ our Saviour!
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