Showing posts with label Archbishop of Canterbury. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Archbishop of Canterbury. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Chaucer Performs

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote 
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote 

DailyMedieval doesn't usually talk about topics that everyone knows about (King Arthur, Geoffrey Chaucer, jousting and castles, etc.), because it tries to pull back the curtain on all the other interesting people and places and tidbits of knowledge that do not get any exposure in textbooks or modern popular culture. (Not that I don't have a strong feelings about Chaucer, as the book link in the upper-right corner of this website tells you.)

From the Ellesmere manuscript
Today, however, we mention Geoffrey Chaucer, because today is thought to be the day of the year when his pilgrims set out on their journey in The Canterbury Tales. Also, 17 April 1397 is considered to be the day that he first gave a public reading of his most famous work at the court of Richard II.

Spring was the time when folk "longed to go on pilgrimages" because they had been cooped up indoors all winter and the roads were finally becoming navigable.

Canterbury was a common goal for pilgrimages because it held the shrine of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury from 1162-1170, who was killed during the reign of Henry II by four knights who were acting either on behalf of  the King or were removing the king's rival on their own in order to curry favor. He was universally loved by the population of England, and was declared a martyr by Pope Alexander III in 1173.

While we're on the subject, let's make something clear about The Canterbury Tales: it is not a complete work. In the collection, the proposal for the pilgrims is that they would each tell two tales heading to Canterbury and two tales coming back, after which their Host would judge the best tale. Chaucer's intent was possibly to top Boccaccio's Decameron with its ten tales each day for ten days. We have barely over 30 tales (and some of them fragmentary), a far cry from the 120 we could expect if he completed the work.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Oswy of Bernicia

King Oswy (also Oswiu or Oswig), who was a friend of Benedict Biscop, ruled Bernicia, a small section of Northumberland between what is now Edinburgh and Newcastle upon Tyne.

According to Bede's writings, Oswy would have been born about 612. Unfortunately for him, his father, King Æthelfrith of Bernicia, was killed in battle against the King of the East Angles, and Oswy and his siblings and their supporters had to flee to exile. They were not able to return to power until 633. Oswy became king when he succeeded his brother Oswald, who died in battle in 642.

In 655, a military victory temporarily made Oswy ruler over much of Britain. This position didn't last very long, but Oswy still remained significant in the larger affairs of Britain. He was especially interested in and supportive of the church. Oswy had been crucial to the foundation of Melrose Abbey. He had allowed his daughter to become a nun. His interest in relics was supported by Pope Vitalian sending him iron filings from the chains that had been used to imprison St. Peter.

In 664, the Synod of Whitby was held to make choices about how Christianity would be practiced, and Oswy was asked to choose. He chose the version of Christianity that was being practiced by Rome over the Celtic version. This also meant calculating the date of Easter differently.

This created some awkwardness; Oswy's son had been raised following Irish-Northumbrian practices but switched to Roman practices at the urging of St. Wilfrid (who was mentioned in a footnote here for his influence on Whitby). Oswy chose to side with his son and Rome, but not everyone found it so easy to switch. Bede reported for 665 "that Easter was kept twice in one year, so that when the King had ended Lent and was keeping Easter, the Queen and her attendants were still fasting and keeping Palm Sunday."

The Archbishop of Canterbury, Theodore of Tarsus, traveled north to visit Oswy in 669 and made such an impression that Oswy was going to make a pilgrimage to Rome. He never made it, dying on 15 February 670. He was buried at Whitby, where his daughter the nun then resided.

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Benedict Biscop

The cleric and writer called the Venerable Bede has cropped up many times here; his learning is known to us by his translation of parts of the Bible, his work on the Reckoning of Time, on sciences, and the respect held for him by others. Let's use him again as our lead in to another topic, with the question: "Where did he acquire his learning?" The answer is in the library at the monastery at Jarrow, built by Bede's tutor. [see the illustration]

Benedict was born into Northumbrian aristocracy about 628, and as an adult as a thegn loyal to King Oswy. About 653, Benedict agreed to travel to Rome with his friend, Wilfrid (later to be Saint Wilfrid the Elder). Although Wilfrid was detained at Lyon, Benedict continued to Rome. Already a Christian, the trip to Rome and visits to sites connected to the Apostles made Benedict more fervent than ever about his faith. So when King Oswy's son Ealfrith wanted to go to Rome some years later, Benedict happily accompanied him. This time, he did not return to England, but stopped at Lerins Abbey on what is now the French Riviera, where he undertook to learn the life of a monk.

After two years of this, he boarded a merchant ship that was heading to Rome. On his third trip there, in 668, he was given the job by Pope Vitalian to go to England and be an advisor to the Archbishop of Canterbury, Theodore of Tarsus. Returning to England, Benedict introduced the construction of stone churches with glass church windows. He also became a proponent of Roman styles of Christian ritual, rather than the Celtic style that had developed in England and Ireland.

King Ecgfrith of Northumbria gave Benedict land for a monastery in 674; Benedict would found the Abbey of St. Peter in Monkwearmouth. He traveled to the continent to bring workers and glaziers to make a worthy monastery, and made a trip to Rome in 679 in order to bring back books. Other trips were made as well to provide books for the monastery. The monastery so pleased the king that Benedict was given more land for a second monastery in Jarrow, and this was to be called St. Paul.

These were the first ecclesiastical buildings in England to be made of stone, and together they held an impressive library of several hundred volumes—also unusual for a 7th century monastery. This is where Bede had access to the learning that allowed him to write his works. One of those works was the Lives of the Holy Abbots of Wearmouth and Jarrow, in which he has this passage:
Not long after, Benedict himself was seized by a disease. [...] Benedict died of a palsy, which grew upon him for three whole years; so that when he was dead in all his lower extremities, his upper and vital members, spared to show his patience and virtue, were employed in the midst of his sufferings in giving thanks to the Author of his being, in praises to God, and exhortations to the brethren.
Benedict Biscop (pronounced "bishop") died on 12 January, 690.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

The Plague and The Clergy

The Black Death, estimated to have killed up to one-third of Europeans from 1347-1351, caused changes in society that we cannot imagine. Some of those changes wind up on record, however. Consider, for instance, important positions in government or the church.

The first Archbishop of Canterbury was St. Augustine* (died c.604), who was sent by Pope Gregory I to bring Christianity to Kent in 597. The office is even referred to sometimes as "The Chair of Augustine." Gregory's proposed methods for missions was discussed here. The position became the most important Christian post in England, and candidates for it—chosen by election from their peers or appointed by the king (which led to many conflicts over the years)—had to travel to be confirmed personally by the Pope.

During the plague years, maintaining the office was difficult. John de Stratford, who became Archbishop in 1333, died of the plague in 1348. The election for his successor created a conflict: the canons voted for Thomas Bradwardine, while Edward III wanted them to choose his Chancellor, John de Ufford. The king's choice was grudgingly accepted, de Ufford was declared by the pope to be the new Archbishop, but he died before he could be consecrated back in Canterbury. So Thomas Bradwardine got his chance after all. Bradwardine made the trip to Avignon to be confirmed by Pope Clement VI, but died in Rochester of the plague on his way back to London. He had officially been Archbishop for only 40 days. Fortunately, the next candidate, Simon Islip—the fourth archbishop in 16 months—was confirmed in December of 1349 and lasted for 17 years.

Islip had his work cut out for him, however. As Archbishop following the plague, he was faced with the problem of too few priests in the country. Priests were demanding greater stipends for their work, to which the normally frugal Islip objected both personally and professionally. He worked to regulate their fees, and increased the pace of finding more priests to fill parishes and other posts. Despite his efforts, many in the years to follow would comment on the unhappy change in the post-plague quality of priests, claiming that quantity prevailed over quality in the selection of new clergy.

Although the plague returned at regular intervals, its effects were never as radical as the first time through the population. Islip survived these further outbreaks, but suffered from a stroke in 1363; he spent the last three years of his Archbishopric debilitated while subordinates kept things running. Before he became ill, he did manage to resolve a long-standing dispute between the positions of Archbishop of Canterbury and Archbishop of York, but that's a tale for another day.

*Note: Not the same as the earlier Augustine of Hippo.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Doctor Profundus

I have written about the Oxford Calculators, four men at Oxford University in the second quarter of the 14th century who made great strides in science and philosophy by treating things like heat and light as if they were quantifiable, even though they did not have ways to measure them. They engaged in "thought experiments" and used mathematics to determine the validity of their points. They were not always right in the end, but they were meticulous in their approach. One of the four was so esteemed that he was called Doctor Profundus, the "Profound Doctor."

Thomas Bradwardine (c.1290-1349) had a reputation as a precocious student at Balliol College. We know he was there by 1321, and later took a doctor of divinity degree. A gifted scholar and theologian, he wrote theories on the Liar Paradox and other logical "insolubles." The Liar Paradox is the statement "I am a liar." For it to be true, the speaker must be a liar; but if it is a true statement then the speaker is not lying. Resolving with logic how such statements can be understood had been tackled for centuries. Bradwardine's work Insolubilia presented complex solutions for puzzles/statements like this.

Like many university men of his day, Bradwardine followed an ecclesiastical career path. After serving as chancellor of the university, he became chancellor of the diocese of London and Dean of St.Paul's. He was also chosen to be chaplain and confessor to Edward III (mentioned in this blog numerous times), celebrating victory masses after campaigns of the Hundred Years War and being entrusted with diplomatic missions. The only time he did not have Edward's support was when John Stratford, Archbishop of Canterbury, died. Bradwardine was elected archbishop by the canons of Canterbury, but Edward opposed the choice, preferring his own chancellor at the time, John de Ufford. When de Ufford died of the Black Death (this was in 1349), Edward allowed Bradwardine to assume the position. Bradwardine had to travel to Pope Clement VI in Avignon for confirmation. but on his return, he succumbed to the Black Death on 26 August. He had been archbishop for 40 days.

That career would not have secured his place in history, however, even with his work attacking the Pelagian heresy. As one of the Oxford Calculators, he developed the "mean speed" theorem and the Law of Falling Bodies before Galileo. He studied "star polygons" (how regular polygons "tile" or fit together in patterns) before Kepler. He developed mnemonic techniques to improve mental abilities, explaining them in De Memoria Artificiali (On Artificial Memory).

One of his theories involved the vacuum of space. Aristotle felt that a vacuum needed a container, because an open space would automatically become filled by matter outside that space flowing into it. Therefore, according to Aristotle, no vacuum could exist above the world, because there was no container beyond the world to maintain the vacuum. Bradwardine was not satisfied with this. The infinity of space was a hot topic in the Middle Ages and Renaissance. His De causa Dei (On the Causes of God) argued that God Himself was infinite, and therefore space beyond our world extended infinitely. (This was different from suggesting that God created separately a space that was infinite.) He also suggested that this infinity could include other worlds that God could create and rule over.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Gervase of Canterbury

Gervase of Canterbury (c.1141-c.1210) was a monk of Christ Church in Canterbury. He was ordained on February 16, 1163 by Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Becket (who would be assassinated in 1170, canonized by Alexander III a few years later, and become the focus of the most famous shrine in England).

Gervase had a fairly undistinguished career as a monk, and his "importance" for us is in his connection to other people and events. He was involved in the dispute between the monks of Christ Church and Archbishop of Canterbury Baldwin of Forde. Baldwin disapproved of the luxury in which the monks of Christ Church lived, derived from the donations made by pilgrims to the shrine of St. Thomas Becket. At one point, Baldwin had the entire monastery confined under house arrest for a year and a half. Gervase was one of the monks sent to inform Baldwin that they were making an appeal to the pope. Ultimately, the monks were given their freedom and normalcy restored (except that Baldwin appointed Roger Norris, a pretty ineffective administrator, as their prior).

For a brief time Gervase held the position of sacristan (the person who takes care of the church and its contents), working for the Archbishop Hubert Walter.

...and that's about it for Gervase, except for one little thing that has intrigued historians and astronomers for centuries. Gervase kept records and wrote books, such as a history of the Archbishops of Canterbury and his Mappa Mundi, which lists bishoprics and ecclesiastical houses in England, Wales and Scotland. He was also the chronicler of his monastery, and on the night of June 18th, 1178,* he recorded something curious and previously unseen.

...but what the event was, and how June the 25th is actually the anniversary of the event on the 18th, I'll save for tomorrow.

*The same year this was happening in Italy, as mentioned on the June 20th post.

Friday, June 15, 2012

Magna Carta

The "Great Charter" was signed on June 10, 1215 by King John.

After the Norman Invasion of 1066, the kings of England started to rule more as the monarchs we think of today, abandoning the English custom of a council of wise men, the witenagemot, that had aided kings for centuries. Under strong and charismatic individuals such as Henry II (who ruled from 1154 until 1189), this system may have worked, but King John was not like Henry II. He was called "Bad" King John because he taxed people so heavily. He was called "Lackland" (in Old French, Johan Sanz Terre) because he lost the Duchy of Normandy to King Philip II of France. For these and other reasons, he lost the support of his barons.

The barons decided they needed to return the kingdom's governance to a system that allowed them more input. To that end, they conferred and agreed to draw up a great charter, which was drafted by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Stephen Langton. Although Langton may not have been as affected by John's whims as the barons, he had been the cause of a dispute between John and Pope Innocent III, which had resulted in John's brief excommunication. Langton definitely saw the need to curb John's ability to get himself and England into trouble.

When John decided to tax the barons themselves in order to mount a war to regain lost provinces on the continent, the barons had had enough. The barons and Langton produced a document called the "Articles of the Barons" in January of 1215, which John rejected. The barons then armed themselves and marched to London, occupying it in May. They confronted John at Windsor Castle, and he agreed to a meeting at a place called Runnymede.

Some items established by Magna Carta:
  • The Church was free to rule itself, especially in the appointment of bishops.
  • No new taxes, except with the consent of the Great Council, or Parliament
  • Weights and Measures were to be made uniform throughout the realm
  • Everyone had the right to due process
On June 15th (797 years ago today), the Barons reciprocated by renewing their Oath of Fealty to King John.

Of course, John had no intention of being bound by the restrictions of the Magna Carta, but that's another story.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Occupy (Medieval) London! Part 5 (of 5)

...and he's only 14!

So...

Tens of thousands have damaged London and remain a threat. King Richard goes out to calm them down and promise them he will treat them well, but while he's doing that, they storm the Tower of London and behead the Archbishop of Canterbury (who is also Chancellor) and the Lord Treasurer—and at the same time they hassle the king's mother. But he meets with them the next day anyway—king's word is his bond, right? The rebel leader acts like a jerk (so we're told, by the guys on the opposite side of the argument), and is killed. The front of the line of rebels—standing far back—see him go from his horse to the ground. They suspect treachery, and start to raise weapons and get loud.

The fourteen-year-old king spurs his horse forward, right up to the rebels, alone. He asks them if they really wish to shoot at their king. In the embarrassed confusion that follows, he raises his sword and says "You shall have no leader but me!" He tells them that all is well, Tyler has in fact just been knighted (which pleases the crowd, although it is completely counter to the idea of social equality behind which they marched), and that they should follow Richard to an open area outside of London. The crowd, enthralled that this boy, king by divine right, is willing to be their leader, follows him into open fields, which allows the nobles with 7000 militia (pulled together in the previous 48 hours) to surround them. The rebels are combed through to find the leaders. The followers are easily dispersed. The concessions offered by the king are revoked.

Jack Straw and John Ball are found (according to Froissart) hiding in an old house, thinking they had escaped. John Ball is executed on July 15; presumably, Jack Straw is also executed around the same time.

Other revolts against the upper classes took place in Europe, and statutes intended to restrict workers for the good of society were enacted several times over the next few centuries, but the Peasants' Revolt stands out in England for how quickly it surged, and how easily and quickly it was quelled.

(And then Richard went on to invent the handkerchief.)

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Occupy (Medieval) London! Part 4 (of 5)

June 12th

Wat Tyler and thousands of middle- and lower-class followers reached Blackheath by June 12th, and heard John Ball's famous sermon. Stirred with egalitarian fervor, they marched to London, crossing London Bridge unopposed the next day. Meanwhile, Jack Straw's Essex group had also arrived. They did not engage in widespread or mindless looting: their targets were symbolic of what they thought was wrong with the country. Only certain buildings were attacked.

John of Gaunt would have been a target, had he been present. The king's uncle and a shrewd and powerful politician, Gaunt was thought by the crowd to be undermining the authority of the 14-year-old monarch. What the crowd likely did not know was that the same Lollard tendencies toward social equality and against church corruption that motivated John Ball were also of great interest to John of Gaunt. Fortunately for Gaunt--and history--Gaunt was patrolling the border of Scotland at the time.

Still, the rebels found a target in Gaunt's home, the Savoy on the banks of the Thames, considered the grandest home in London. It was looted before being burned, and anything precious found therein was destroyed or thrown into the river. Legend says that a rebel who tried to keep a silver cup for himself was set upon by his comrades and killed.

On June 13th, King Richard II addressed the rebels himself, offering them several concessions. Something in the quality of the bold young boy (he was 14) calmed them, and a parlay was agreed upon. Unfortunately, while Richard was addressing one group, another large group entered the Tower of London complex. There they found who they considered to be two of the architects of their troubled land: the Archbishop of Canterbury Simon Sudbury, and the Lord Treasurer Robert Hales. Both were dragged to Tower Hill and beheaded.

On June 14th, Richard and the Lord Mayor of London,William Walworth, along with a contingent of soldiers, met the rebels at Smithfield to discuss the end of the revolt. Wat Tyler rode alone to address the king, but he was so insolent (so say reports) that Walworth hacked at Tyler's neck with his sword, whereupon a knight, Sir John Cavendish, killed Tyler by running him through with his sword.

...and then it got really interesting.

[to be continued]

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Occupy (Medieval) London! Part 2 (of 5)

The Peasants' Revolt--Other Causes

The lower classes were not just worked up by a sermon about social equality, or the statutes that tried to maintain wages at lower levels.

Poll Tax
At a time when annual taxation was unknown, the unexpected declaration of any tax could be a cause for concern: a tax that did not seem equitable was especially unwelcome. The Poll Tax of 1377 was a flat rate of 4 pence, and was do-able. Another poll tax in 1379, however, was not a flat rate, nor so small. Some of the poor were given reduced rates, but others had to pay the full rate of 12 pence, three times the rate of just two years earlier.

The King
Edward III died in 1377, leaving the throne to his grandson Richard II, aged 10. In 1381, the king being only 14, the country was still being run by regents who were considered unpopular, including the Archbishop of Canterbury (Simon Sudbury) who was considered the embodiment of a corrupt church, and the Lord Treasurer (Sir Robert Hales), who instituted the poll taxes. The air of majesty that surrounded a king still existed for the masses, and they considered the authority of these other lords (who included the king's uncle, John of Gaunt) improper.

These factors were already reflected in some acts of social unrest taking place in the spring and summer of 1381. More on them tomorrow.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Occupy (Medieval) London! Part 1 (of 5)

The Peasants' Revolt of 1381

The statutes that attempted to restrict the peasant workforce to pre-Plague levels of wages, etc., did not please the lower classes. Social unrest needs a nucleus, however, a focus, and one was found in John Ball.

John Ball (c.1338-1381) was a priest and a "Lollard." (Lollardy, among other things, rejected the idea that the aristocracy were "better.") Ball's traveling roadshow of social equality did not please the Archbishop of Canterbury, who imprisoned Ball in the archbishop's palace in Kent, 30 miles southeast of London. This did not sit well with Ball's many fans, who broke him out of prison. He and they traveled toward London, and in a field in Blackheath, he preached an open-air sermon to a large crowd on a topic that became a motto for the lower class:
When Adam dalf [delved, digged], and Eve span, who was thanne a gentilman? From the beginning all men were created equal by nature, and that servitude had been introduced by the unjust and evil oppression of men, against the will of God, who, if it had pleased Him to create serfs, surely in the beginning of the world would have appointed who should be a serf and who a lord... 
He concluded with exhortations to root out those who brought harm to the community: the lords of the realm, and the lawyers and justices and jurors. The crowd, roused to a frenzy, began the five-mile march to London.

[to be continued]