Caring and sharing A mother nurses her child in a painting from the 1540s. Medieval people saw breastfeeding as an expression of love and nourishment
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In the late 13th century, a little boy crawled out of his crib while his parents were at a funeral. He was two years old. His name was Roger, and he was the son of one of the cooks at Conwy Castle in north Wales. The curious toddler crawled out of the house, through the dark, and tragically fell off the drawbridge and into the moat. A passer-by spotted his apparently lifeless body: he swiftly prayed and promised a pilgrimage to Hereford if the miracle-working late bishop Thomas Cantilupe would help. The boy’s mother arrived and began to wail and beat her breast: it was all onlookers could do to prevent her from hurling herself into the moat after her son. When the child’s body was handed to her, she tore open her cloak to warm him against her chest. The little boy began to breathe again and suckled at his mother’s breast. Revived, he began to laugh and smile.
This moving story was recounted as part of the canonisation process for Thomas Cantilupe, bishop of Hereford. On account of this, and various other miracles, Cantilupe was made a saint of the Catholic church. It’s a story that provides a wonderful insight into the lives of the humblest strata of medieval society. It’s full of familial love, deep emotion, and – importantly – a wider community invested in the well-being of children.