say, of cypress, and in the form of a T; and the name expressive of that
shape seems to have lingered long, at least in England. Pilkington, Bishop
of Durham, from 1561 to 1577, speaks once and again of the "cruche and
mitre." But as the symbolical idea grew and the wealth of the church
increased, the staff naturally became handsomer in design and materials,
as being expressive of the episcopal dignity. Jewels and the precious
metals were employed in its adornment, and comparatively soon it assumed
the crook shape, now its universal form, significant of the office of the
Bishop as the Chief Shepherd of his diocese. In the Eastern Church the
curved staff is said to be reserved for the Patriarchs.
The pastoral idea of the clerical, and especially of the episcopal office,
probably arose from our Lord's assumption of the title of "the Good
Shepherd," and was further emphasized by His charge to S. Peter, "Feed My
sheep, feed My lambs." In allusion to this, the figure of the Saviour
presenting that Apostle with a crooked staff is familiar in Art, and the
thought finds expression in several writers of the English Church. Jewell,
Bishop of Salisbury (1560-1571) writes, "Their crosier's staff signifies
diligence in attending the flock of Christ," and William Tyndale speaks of
"that Shepherd's crook, the bishop's crose." More authoritative is the
allusion in the Ordinal, where, at the consecration of a bishop, the
rubric runs, "Then shall the Archbishop put into his hand the pastoral
staff, saying, Be to the flock of Christ a shepherd, not a wolf, feed
them, devour them not." The words still stand in our prayer-books,
although the accompanying significant act has not been enjoined since the
first book of Edward VI., of 1549.
Most of the early examples of the use of the crosier in England are found
in the carvings of bishops' tombs. We have, for instance, in their
Cathedral the effigies of Bartholomew of Exeter, Bishop of that diocese
from 1161 to 1184, bearing a staff, the butt of which pierces a dragon at
his feet; and of Simon of Apulia, who followed in the same See in 1214 to
1224, with the same insignia. Other figures might be mentioned at York,
Salisbury, Worcester, Wells, and indeed in most of our Cathedrals, the
form of the crosier varying little in the several cases, except in
richness of design. The curious and more than questionable custom of
making, in a kind of sport, a Boy Bishop, is commemorated at Salisbury by
the tomb of one such, whose effigy bears the crosier along with the other
marks of his sham dignity.
The finest specimen of an ancient staff still preserved among us, is that
of William of Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester (1367-1405), bequeathed by
that great prelate himself to New College, Oxford.
After the Reformation, in the general decline of ceremonial and symbolism,
the pastoral staff and the mitre fell alike into disuse in England,
surviving only as senseless decorations, or heraldic additions to the
tombs or arms of bishops, who had never used either the one or the other,
had perhaps never even seen them. At the present time the use of the
crosier has once more become almost universal in the English dioceses, and
the added dignity of the mitre promises soon to be scarcely less
frequently found.
But besides the bishops, the abbots of the most important monastic
foundations formerly bore and wore crosier and mitre in token of their
authority, the mark of difference being that while the bishop had his
crosier carried with the crook turned outwards as a sign of his rule over
the whole diocese, the abbot carried his, usually one of simpler design,
crook inwards, to signify the purely domestic or internal character of
his government.
The English mitred abbots sat and voted in the House of Lords until the
dissolution of their communities under Henry VIII. They were the heads of
the following abbeys, namely, S. Albans, Glastonbury, Westminster, Bury S.
Edmund's, Bardney, Shrewsbury, Crowland, Abington, Evesham, Gloucester,
Ramsey, York (S. Mary's), Tewkesbury, Reading, Battle, Winchcourt,
Hide-by-Winchester, Cirencester, Waltham, Thorney, Canterbury (S.
Augustine's), Selby, Peterborough, Colchester (S. John's), and Tavistock,
twenty-five in all, of which the last was considerably the latest addition
to the list.
One of the earliest examples of the abbatial staff in England is on the
tomb of Abbot Vitalis (died 1082) in the cloister of Westminster Abbey,
and another early instance of its use is supplied by the effigy of Abbot
Andrew (1193-1200) in Peterborough Cathedral. Parker, the last Abbot of
Gloucester, lies buried in the Cathedral there, and Philip Ballard de
Hanford, the last Abbot of Evesham, in Worcester Cathedral, each with his
crosier.
Before leaving this subject an effort should be made to remove a
misconception. A common modern fallacy is that there is a distinction
between the crosier and the pastoral staff, the latter name being assigned
to the crook of a bishop, and the former to the processional cross borne
before an Archbishop. The late Dean Hook, if he was not the originator of
the idea in an article in his "Church Dictionary," at any rate did much to
propagate it thereby, and it is now frequently found in books of
reference. But the use of the words in the past is all against it. It is
true that crosier comes from the Latin _crux_, a cross, but from the same
root too, come crook and crutch; so that nothing can be proved from the
derivation. It would seem that the original form of the word was _crose_,
as it is given in a quotation used above, whence the chaplain who bore it
was a crosier. From this it became the crosier's staff, the crosier-staff,
and finally the crosier; all having reference to the crook of Episcopal
Authority.
Bishops in Battle.
BY EDWARD LAMPLOUGH.
After William, Duke of Normandy, came in with great toil and rout of war,
on Senlac's evil day, it was not difficult to apply the poet's lines to
many a proud prelate of the Anglo-Norman epoch:--
"Princely was his hand in largess, heavy was his arm to smite,
And his will was leaded iron, like the mace he bore in fight."
Not that English Bishops had not found it necessary to take the field in
pre-conquest times, when the old Danish wars convulsed the island, and the
inhabitants suffered severely from the unbridled passion and cruelty of a
barbarous and heathen soldiery.
Many a grand old Anglo-Saxon prelate found himself called upon as a
Christian and a patriot to take his station in the van of the king's army,
to bar the path of the invader, and fence with sword and spear the ancient
churches and the fruitful plains of his beloved island.
The old English chroniclers have preserved for us the names of a few of
those warrior bishops. Ealstan, Bishop of Sherborne, may be specially
referred to. A.D. 823, he assisted Prince Ethelwulf during an expedition
into Kent, and in 845 he was one of the commanders in the great victory
over the Danes at the mouth of the Parret. He died, full of years and
honours, in that unhappy and troublous 867, having held the Bishopric of
Sherborne fifty years. His successor, Bishop Heahmund, was not so
fortunate; he fought under Ethelred and Alfred during the sanguinary and
disastrous campaign of 871, and was slain at Marden, when victory remained
with the Danes. When Edmund Ironsides encountered Canute at Assingdon, and
was betrayed by that infamous traitor Edric Streon, among those who
swelled the huge death-mounds was Ednoth, Bishop of Dorchester, and Abbot
Wulsy, but Hoveden asserts that "they had come for the purpose of invoking
the Lord on behalf of the soldiers."
Another Bishop of Sherborne was slain on the eve of Brunnanburgh, A.D.
937. When the two armies were within striking distance, and prepared for
what was certain to prove a sanguinary and stubborn conflict, Anlaf,
disguised as a harper, entered the lines of Athelstan's army, and, by the
merit of his performance, was admitted into the royal presence, and
received several pieces of gold in reguerdon of his skill. Too proud to
carry away his minstrel's fee, he secreted it beneath the turf, before
passing out of the camp. During the performance he had been narrowly
scrutinised by one of Athelstan's soldiers, who had formerly served the
Northumbrian Prince, and was suspicious that the talented minstrel was no
other than the warlike Anlaf. After witnessing Anlaf's disposal of his
fee, his suspicion was confirmed, and he hurried to Athelstan to warn him
of the danger that might result from Anlaf's visit. His having once sworn
fealty to the Northumbrian Prince was alleged as a sufficient reason for
not betraying him into the king's hands, and Athelstan readily accepted
the explanation. Nevertheless, he removed his tent to a distant and less
exposed position; and when, some time afterward, the Bishop of Sherborne
arrived, with his contingent of warriors, he pitched his tent on the
recently vacated ground. That night, when the watch-fires burnt low, and,
save the weary sentinels, the royal army was buried in slumber, Anlaf
burst in with sword and spear, and a sudden storm of midnight battle
convulsed the whole camp. After a fierce struggle the enemy was driven
out, but when day dawned the Bishop of Sherborne was found, cold and
still, in the midst of the slain.
Such was the nature of the military service of the church during the
pre-conquest period, and similar service was not infrequently rendered
after the Normans came in, when sudden storms of invasion swept across the
Scottish borders, to burst on the dark and bloody battle-ground of
Northumbria.
With the memorable battle of Northallerton, or the Standard, A.D. 1138,
the church was in a very special degree connected, and indeed the
priesthood had suffered severely from the barbarous Scotch. Thus Wendover,
"they slew priests upon the altars, cut off the heads of the crucifixes,
and placed them on the decapitated corpses, putting in their places the
bloody heads of their victims; wherever they went, it was one scene of
cruelty and terror; women shrieking, old men lamenting, and every living
being in despair." The evil grew so intolerable that the aged Thurston,
Archbishop of York, incited the northern barons to unite against the
enemy, exerting himself with almost superhuman energy to organise the
movement, appealing to the religious feelings of the people by processions
of the clergy, by sermons and exhortations, and when the army arrayed
itself for battle, its serried ranks surrounded the famous standard,
"consisting of the mast of a ship securely lashed to a four-wheeled car or
wain. On the summit of this mast was placed a large crucifix, having in
its centre a silver box containing the consecrated host, and below it
waved the banners of the three patron saints:--Peter of York, Wilfred of
Ripon, and John of Beverley." Thurston, incapacitated from being present
by the infirmities of age, had delegated Ralph Nowel, the titulary Bishop
of Orkney, to act for him, and he it was, according to the old writers,
who exhorted the army to make a brave defence when the Scots bore down
upon them, and the dreadful conflict commenced. The battle resulted in a
glorious victory for the Anglo-Norman men-at-arms and the peasant archers
of Northumbria, but the name of Archbishop Thurston is always primarily
and honourably associated with this memorable event.
Under somewhat similar circumstances, A.D. 1319, William de Melton,
Archbishop of York, seconded by the Mayor, Nicholas Fleming, hastily
raised a tumultuary army of 10,000 men, burghers and peasants, necessarily
undisciplined and ill-armed, and utterly unfitted to dispute the field
with a powerful and veteran army, marching under Bruce's most experienced
and fortunate captains, Randolph and Douglas. The armies struck at Myton
Meadows, near the confluence of the Swale and Ure, on September the 13th.
With everything in their favour the Scots resorted to ambuscade, and,
sweeping down upon the startled enemy, in an instant covered the field
with dead and wounded men, driving before them a wild rout of fugitives.
Sir Nicholas Fleming, then in the seventh year of his mayoralty, was
slain; it was with the utmost difficulty that the Archbishop effected his
escape, for the Scots spared none, and night alone covered the remnant of
the army from the exterminating sword. Nearly 4,000 of the Englishmen were
destroyed, including 300 priests, attired in full canonicals, from which
tragic circumstance the rude Scots jestingly referred to the battle as the
"Chapter of Mitton."
The bearer of the Archbishop's cross secreted it on the field, and it fell
into the hands of a peasant, who, for some days, concealed it in his hut,
no doubt tempted by its value, but conscience operated so powerfully that
the good fellow was constrained to restore it to the Archbishop.
A dour revenge the English Bishops took upon their Scottish adversaries in
1346, when King Edward was encamped before Calais, and luckless David
Bruce came over the border with 50,000 men at his back, in the month of
October. Queen Philippa bestirred herself with heroic energy on this
occasion, and marched with the army to the north. It was largely swollen
by the vassals of the church. The Bishop of Durham commanded in the first
division; William de la Zouche, Archbishop of York, and the Bishop of
Carlisle, led the second division; the Bishop of Lincoln the third; and
the Archbishop of Canterbury the fourth. Edward Baliol and the principal
nobles of Northumbria shared the command with the prelates.
During the furious struggle that ensued the monks of Durham assembled on
the rising ground known as the Maiden's Bower, and knelt in prayer around
the banner-cloth of St. Cuthbert, or occupied themselves in manufacturing
a fair wooden cross, as a memorial of the event.
The battle terminated in a signal triumph to the English army, despite
the distinguished valour of the Scottish host, and the closing scene was
one of peculiar interest. Almost alone amid the wreck of the field, David
Bruce disdained to surrender, although "he had two spears hanging in his
body, his leg almost incurably wounded, and his sword beaten out of his
hand," and John Copeland, a sturdy Northumbrian squire, was bent upon his
capture, and ultimately succeeded in carrying him off in triumph to his
castle of Ogle, but not until the fiery Scot had dashed out two of his
teeth by a buffet of his gauntleted fist.
Most unsaintly, perhaps, of all the English bishops who loved the music of
twanging bow-strings and clashing steel, was "Weymundus or Reymundus,"
first Bishop of Sodar and Man. When a monk of Furness Abbey he was famous
as an illuminator and transcriber of MSS.; but accompanying several of the
brethren on a mission to the Isle of Man, the rude Manxmen were so deeply
impressed by his eloquence, dignity, and commanding stature, that they
procured his elevation to the Bishopric.
Wymund the Saxon, as the Bishop is generally called, was incited by an
unworthy ambition to claim the crown of Scotland, then worn by David I.
Assuming the name of Malcolm Macbeth, he gave out that he was the son of
Angus, Earl of Moray, recently slain at the battle of Strickathrow, and
who was the heir of Macbeth's son and successor, Leelach. Obtaining a
number of large boats, he repeatedly attacked the neighbouring islands,
finding numerous intrepid and desperate adventurers ready to follow him
for love of adventure and plunder. He soon made his name widely known and
feared, and Somerled, Lord of the Isles, was induced to bestow upon him
the hand of his daughter, who bore him a son, Donald Macbeth. Knights and
men-at-arms were despatched to foil his invasions of the mainland, but by
availing himself of forest and mountain fastnesses, he avoided his more
powerful enemies, escaping by his boats when hard pressed. Many of the
bishops paid him black-mail, but one tough old prelate, a man after his
own heart, met him in open field, axe in hand, and smote him to the earth,
and defeated and scattered his following. Wymund escaped, however, and
soon took the field again.
Ultimately David pacified the claimant by a grant of lands, and Wymund
returned to the Isle of Man, or, according to William of Newbridge, to
the Abbey of Furness, where his severities so enraged the monks that they
fell on him, bound him, and destroyed his sight and virility. He was then
handed over to King David, who shut him up in Roxburgh Castle, but, after
some years, transferred him to Byland Abbey, where his stories of
adventure by land and sea long delighted the good fathers.
Somerled, endeavouring to maintain the claim of Wymund's son, was slain in
battle near Renfrew, by the Lord High Steward and the Earl of Angus. The
wicked and vexatious claims of Wymund were terminated in 1164 by the
capture and imprisonment of his son.
The necessities of the times justified many of the prelates in assuming
arms, and Wymund must be regarded as an exceptional character, neither
true priest nor bishop. Nevertheless several of the English bishops appear
to have been quite willing to make arms a profession, while others, as
Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, combined the ecclesiastical and baronial offices,
employing both in the furtherance of their personal ambition. When the
Conqueror arrested his ambitious half-brother, it will be remembered that
he arrested him not as the churchman, but as the Earl of Kent.
Odo was a principal figure, with Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutance, at Senlac,
when the Norman Duke conquered Harold's crown; and he was held in
well-deserved reprobation for the sanguinary revenge that he exacted for
the slaying of Walcher, Bishop of Durham, and his following of a hundred
French and Flemish men-at-arms, at Gateshead, on the 14th of May, 1080.
The death of the Conqueror let Odo loose upon society again, and he
returned to England, where he was well received by Rufus, and his
forfeited estates restored. His unprincipled ambition, and his rage
against Archbishop Lanfranc, induced him to organise a conspiracy against
the king, in which he was supported by Bishop Gosfrith, William, Bishop of
Durham, and a number of the Anglo-Norman nobles. Raising a Saxon army,
Rufus reduced Tunbridge and Pevensey Castles, in the latter of which he
secured the arch-traitor. Nevertheless Odo was permitted to proceed to
Rochester Castle, for the purpose of opening negotiations. The bravest of
the revolted nobles occupied the fortress, and Odo remained with them, a
willing captive, but the ruse deceived no one. After a tedious siege the
castle was compelled to surrender, and Odo issued forth, amid sounding
trumpets, and the menaces of the English soldiery, to depart over sea,
with the bitter curses of the islanders ringing in his ears. The Bishop of
Durham was also reduced to extremities, and, with many of the revolted
Normans, sent after Odo, as the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle records.
Men of Odo's stamp were not wanting among the bishops, when Stephen seized
the crown, barely seventy years after the Battle of Hastings, when the
direct male line of the Conqueror failed. During the period of almost
unparalleled suffering that followed, bishops were seen in the hostile
camps, leading the mercenary soldiery, and even gambling for their share
of the spoils collected by those ruthless marauders. They were armed in
complete mail, bore truncheon and lance, and bestrode heavy war-steeds,
like warlike knights and captains of the mercenaries.
Henry, Bishop of Winchester, acted a prominent part in the war between
Stephen and Matilda, changing sides as policy and ambition dictated, and
when, after the revolt of the Londoners, he again espoused his brother's
cause, he had to retire from Winchester, leaving Matilda in the
possession of the castle, while her troops closely invested the episcopal
palace. He speedily re-entered Winchester with a considerable force at his
back, and Matilda's soldiery rushed in confusion to the churches, which
they essayed to defend. The Bishop was not to be denied, and to avoid the
long and dubious strife, and heavy loss of life that would attend the
storming of the holy edifices, he set fire to them, and afterwards gave
his undivided attention to the castle, which he reduced to extremities,
after a leaguer of six weeks, but the ex-empress effected her escape.
With reference to the military proclivities of our bishops, it is due to
them to point out that as councillors and ambassadors they were naturally
in great request at court, where their superior education and training
enabled them to serve the state and crown to advantage. The nation was
continually at war, kings and courtiers were warriors, hence the bishops
were accustomed to both court and camp, and vied with the proudest baron
in the splendour of their apparel, and the number of their attendant
knights and men-at-arms.
The following brief extract from Hallam, relating to feudal tenures in
Anglo-Saxon England, throws some little light on the military service of
some of the bishops in pre-conquest times, although, no doubt, many
churchmen considered it a holy war that they waged against the heathen
Danes in defence of their country and religion:--
"All the freehold lands of England, except _some_ of those belonging
to the Church, were subject to three great public burdens: military
service in the king's expeditions, or at least in defensive war; the
repair of bridges, and that of royal fortresses. These obligations,
and especially the first, have been sometimes thought to denote a
feudal tenure. There is, however, a confusion into which we may fall
by not sufficiently discriminating the rights of a king as chief lord
of his vassals, and as sovereign of his subjects. In every country,
the supreme power is entitled to use the arm of each citizen in the
public defence. The usage of all Nations agrees with common reason in
establishing this great principle. There is nothing therefore
peculiarly feudal in this military service of landholders; it was due
from the allodial proprietors upon the continent, it was derived from
their German ancestors, it had been fixed, probably, by the
legislatures of the Heptarchy upon the first settlement in Britain."
We can easily imagine the Anglo-Saxon kings calling upon the bishops for
assistance against the Danes.
The Conquest was followed by the imposition of the feudal system, binding
the church to perform military service to the crown. This, at first
regarded as a hardship, agreed well with the warlike spirit of the times,
and although the bishops appointed their feudal advocates to fight their
battles, protect their interests, and lead their vassals to the field, yet
they sometimes took the field in person, and rode amid the lances of the
men-at-arms. The military advocates held their lands of the church, and,
in court and field, their service was honourable. Indeed the title of
advocates of the church was bestowed upon Pepin and Charlemagne.
Thus the regulations of the feudal period encouraged the military
disposition of the prelates, who, when the invaders burst in, readily
raised the cry to arms. It will be remembered that when Hotspur and
Douglas carried on their great trial at arms on Otterburne field, by the
cloud-drifted light of the moon, the Bishop of Durham was marching with
10,000 men to ensure the defeat of the invaders. However, he arrived too
late; the battle was over, Douglas slain, and the two Percies prisoners,
and the Scots strongly posted to resist attack. A second battle must have
been sanguinary, and the result doubtful, therefore the bishop decided
not to take upon himself the responsibility of fighting, but withdrew his
warriors, leaving the Scots to return unmolested to their own country.