Entity
Dunstan
The tenth-century archbishop of Canterbury remembered in folklore as a smith who gripped the Devil's nose with red-hot tongs — patron saint of metalworkers.
Dunstan (c. 909–988) was an Anglo-Saxon churchman — abbot of Glastonbury, later archbishop of Canterbury — who became, in the centuries after his death, the patron saint of goldsmiths, blacksmiths, and bell-founders, and the subject of a small cycle of legends in which a man of the forge gets the better of the Devil. The historical figure and the folk figure are both real, and they are not quite the same person.
The historical Dunstan is firmly attested. Born near Glastonbury into a landholding family, he was a monk and then abbot there, a counsellor to several West Saxon kings, and from 959 archbishop of Canterbury under Edgar. He stood at the centre of the tenth-century English Benedictine reform — the movement that rebuilt monastic life on Continental models, chiefly Fleury and the Lotharingian houses — and his career is documented by an early Life written within living memory of him. That he worked with his hands is part of the record rather than the legend: the early sources describe him as a craftsman skilled in metalwork, manuscript illumination, and music, and a drawing traditionally held to be his own survives. The patronage of the metal trades grew from this reputation, and his feast on 19 May was long kept by London’s goldsmiths.
What scholarship can establish stops short of the famous story. The best-known tale holds that the Devil came to tempt Dunstan at his forge and that the saint seized him by the nose with a pair of red-hot tongs until he howled for release. A related strand makes him the origin of the lucky horseshoe: asked to shoe the Devil’s own cloven hoof, he drove the nails so cruelly that the Devil swore never to enter a house with a horseshoe over the door. These stories are not found in the early Lives; they surface in later medieval and post-medieval English folklore, attached to a saint whose trade made him a natural hero for them, and they were sometimes localised to a forge at Mayfield in Sussex.
The pattern is older and wider than Dunstan. The clever holy man who outwits a duped or comic Devil belongs to a large body of European folk tradition, and the smith who bargains with or cheats the powers of hell is a recurrent figure in his own right — the forge being a place where fire, iron, and skill already carried a charge of the uncanny. To read Dunstan’s tongs this way is interpretation, not record: the legend says less about a tenth-century archbishop than about the long habit of imagining sanctity as a kind of cunning, and evil as something that can be gripped, shod, and sent off yelping. The reform leader and the trickster of the forge came to share one name, and it is the second who is better remembered.
→ Related: Middle Ages · Cotton Mather
Sources
- Farmer 2011