Chapter V: Part 5

It. ij calevers w{th} flaxes and tuch boxe.

It. ij pyckes and ij halberds.

It. for the Tr'band Souldiar a cote and bowe and a shiffe of arrowes
and a quiver."

In 1616, the inventory is as follows:--

"Receaved by Christopher Ward Constable from John Couttrell the Townes
Armore.

2 Corsletts with 2 pickes.

2 Culivers.

One flask and tuch boxe.

V headpeeces; towe of them ould ones.

2 howlboardes.

One payre of Banddelrowes.

2 oulde girdles.

3 new girdles; towe of them with ye sowldiers.

3 payre of hanggers in the sowldiers keepinge.

3 swordes with towe daggers.

Allsoe the swordes in sowldiers keepinge.

Allsoe 2 platte coottes y{t} Clocksmith not delivered."

This armour was kept in the parish church at Repton; up to the year 1840 some of it still remained in the parvise or room over the south porch.

In the first year of Elizabeth, it is recorded that there was in the parish church of Darley, Derbyshire, "within ye steepul both harnes and weapons in redynes for one billman and for one archer."

In Cussans' county history of Hertfordshire, it is recorded that some "twenty years ago," the south porch of Baldock church was enlarged by removing the floor of the parvise. This chamber, which had remained closed for many years, was found to be nearly filled with armour, helmets, pikes, and other weapons. It was assumed by Cussans that this was a collection of armour, heaped together from tombs over which they had been suspended, but there can be no doubt it was merely the old store of town's armour.

Beating the Bounds.

BY JOHN T. PAGE.

In those early days, when deities were called into existence at the sweet will of every potentate, we note the fact that somewhere between the years 715-672 B.C., King Numa Pompilius introduced to the Roman citizens, the worship of the god Terminus. He originated a plan, by which the fields of the citizens were separated from each other by means of boundary stones, which stones were dedicated, and made sacred to the god Terminus. The Terminalia, as the festival of Terminus was called, was celebrated annually on the 23rd of February. On this day the people turned out in force, and visiting the different boundary stones, decked them with flowers, and performed sacrificial rites amid great rejoicings.

From the seventh century B.C., to the end of the nineteenth century of the Christian era is a long stride, but it is pretty generally considered that in this annual Terminalia of the ancient Romans, we have the germ of the custom known as "Beating the Bounds," which in many parishes throughout England is still carried out annually.[16]

The early Christians readily adapted some of the best heathen customs to their own requirements, and thus we soon find them making a perambulation round their fields, accompanied by their bishops and clergy. They repeated litanies, and implored God to avert plague and pestilence, and to enable them in due season to reap the fruits of the earth. "The Litanies or Rogations then used gave the name of Rogation Week to this time. They occur as early as the 550th year of the Christian era, when they were first observed by Mamertius, Bishop of Vienna, on account of the frequent earthquakes that happened, and the incursions of wild beasts, which laid in ruins and depopulated the city."[17]

Some idea of the importance which eventually came to be attached to this Rogation time, may be gathered from an old sermon, still extant, in which the preacher, after animadverting upon a growing misuse of the festival by certain people, tells them that for this cause "it is merveyle God destroye us not in one daye,"--and then proceeds as follows:--"In these Rogation Days, it is to be asked of God, and prayed for, that God of his goodness wyll defende and save the corne in the felde, and that he wyll vouchsave to pourge the ayer. For this cause be certaine Gospels red in the wide felde amonges the corne and grasse, that by the vertue and operation of God's word, the power of the wicked spirites, which kepe in the air and infecte the same (whence come pestilences and the other kyndes of diseases and syknesses) may be layde downe, and the aier made pure and cleane, to th' intent the corne may remaine unharmed, and not infected of the sayd hurteful spirites, but serve us for our use and bodely sustenaunce."

In order that we may now get a better idea of what these processions were like, we cannot do better than turn to Shaw's _History of Staffordshire_.[18] We there learn that "Among the local customs which have prevailed (at Wolverhampton), may be noticed that which was popularly called 'Processioning.' Many of the older inhabitants can well remember when the sacrist, resident prebendaries, and members of the choir, assembled at Morning Prayers on Monday and Tuesday in Rogation Week, with the charity children, bearing long poles clothed with all kinds of flowers then in season, and which were afterwards carried through the streets of the town with much solemnity, the clergy, singing men and boys, dressed in their sacred vestments, closing the procession, and chanting in a grave and appropriate melody, the Canticle, Benedicite Omnia Opera, etc.... It was discontinued about 1765."

In the seventeenth century mention is often made of the Rogation week processions in the Articles of Enquiry in the different Archdeaconries. As an example we may cite the following from the Archdeaconry of Middlesex, under date 1662. "Doth your minister or curate, in Rogation Dayes, go in Perambulation about your Parish, saying and using the Psalms and Suffrages by Law appointed, as _viz._, Psalm 103 and 104, the Letany and Suffrages, together with the Homily, set out for that end and purpose? Doth he admonish people to give thanks to God, if they see any likely hopes of plenty, and to call upon him for mercy, if there be any fear of scarcity: and do you, the Churchwardens, assist him in it?"

The judicious Hooker "would by no means omit the customary time of Procession, persuading all, both rich and poor, if they desired the preservation of love and their parish rights and liberties, to accompany him in his Perambulation: and most did so: in which Perambulation he would usually express more pleasant discourse than at other times, and would then always drop some loving and facetious observations, to be remembered against the next year, especially by the boys and young people."[19]

As might have been expected, some very curious entries appear in the churchwardens' books of different parishes relative to expenses incurred on the occasion of the annual procession. From the parish books of St. Margaret, Westminster, the following have been culled:--

"1555. Item, paid for spiced bread on the Ascension-Even, and on the
Ascension Day, 1s."

"1556. Item, paid for bread, wine, ale, and beer, upon the
Ascension-Even and Day, against my Lord Abbott and his Covent cam in
Procession, and for strewing herbs the samme day, 7s. 1d."

"1559. Item, for bread, ale, and beer, on Tewisday in the Rogacion
Weeke, for the parishioners that went in Procession, 1s."

"1560. Item, for bread and drink for the parishioners that went the
Circuit the Tuesday in the Rogation Week, 3s. 4d."

"Item, for bread and drink the Wednesday in the Rogation Week, for Mr.
Archdeacon and the Quire of the Minster, 3s. 4d."

"1585. Item, paid for going the Perambulacion, for fish, butter,
cream, milk, conger, bread and drink, and other necessaries, 4s.
8-1/2d."

"1597. Item, for the charges of diet at Kensington for the
Perambulation of the Parish, being a yeare of great scarcity and
deerness, L6 8s. 8d."

"1605. Item, paid for bread, drink, cheese, fish, cream, and other
necessaries, when the worshipfull and others of the parish went the
Perambulation to Kensington, L15."

By way of accessories, the customs of "whipping" and "bumping" gradually came to form part of the perambulation ceremony. In order that the boundaries of the parishes might be indelibly impressed on the minds of the younger portion of the community, it was deemed advisable to bump some promising boy painfully against the boundary stones; or better still, to publicly whip him while he strove to impress on his memory the exact position of the same land-marks.

As a set off against this public humiliation, the boys had a present of money given to them, and accordingly there appears an entry in the Chelsea parish books, in 1670, as follows:--

"Given to the boys that were whipt, 4s."[20]

The process of "bumping" has been carried on until quite recently, for on June 8th, 1881, the _Guardian_ reported a case in which three men who were engaged in "Beating the Bounds" were fined L5 each for forcibly "bumping" the senior curate of Hanwell. They met the curate and "asked him to go and be 'bumped.' Upon his declining, two of the defendants took hold of his arms and dragged him to the stone, one of the party taking him by the leg and lifting him bodily from the ground. On reaching the stone, they 'bumped' him against a man."

It would take too long to mention all the numerous observances which still linger on in various places in connection with this ancient and interesting custom. In most parishes where it is still kept up, the ceremony is performed annually on Ascension Day. A friend of the writer thus describes the way in which it is carried out in one of the outlying districts of London:--

"We assembled, by invitation, at the Vestry Hall, about 10 o'clock a.m. I should think there were thirty or forty gentlemen present, including the rector, churchwardens, and various officers of the parish, and about the same number of schoolboys. The gentlemen wore rosettes, and carried rods, and the boys were provided with long willow wands decked with blue ribbons. The parish beadle, carrying the mace, marched in front. When we came to any of the boundary stones of the parish, they were duly examined to see if they were in their proper position, and then the boys gave three cheers, and beat them with their wands. We marched through private houses and warehouses, over walls, ditches, canals, etc., and were taken down the river in a barge, until at last we came to our starting-point again about 4-30 in the afternoon. The churchwardens then presented each of the boys with a new shilling and dismissed them."

In these days of ordnance maps, there may be very little practical utility in "Beating the Bounds," but as Wordsworth says:--

"Many precious relics
And customs of our rural ancestry
Are gone or stealing from us."

Time is ever busy blotting out the land-marks which our ancestors reared with so much patience for our behoof. It is well, therefore, if occasionally, with reverential spirit, we try to set in order the fragments of those that still remain. In so doing, we may perchance cull some useful lesson, and ere they pass away for ever, haply profit by the experiences which they record.

The Story of the Crosier.

BY THE REV. GEO. S. TYACK, B.A.

The staff of authority, which we have in so many forms, as sceptre, crosier, mace, wand, or otherwise, has its origin in each case in one of two ideas. Sometimes it is an instrument of correction; thus the churchwarden's staff, the wand or rod of a royal usher, and of a beadle, and probably also the mace of a mayor, were all, like the fasces of a Roman governor, intended to correct the unruly, or to forcibly clear a way, when necessary, for the progress of the dignitary before whom they were borne. In other cases this symbol of authority, as it has now become, was originally nothing more or less than the trusty staff on which the aged ruler leaned, as on a modern walking stick. All language points to the fact that age was at first considered an essential condition of dignity and authority, for almost all terms of respect imply the seniority of the person addressed. Sir, sieur or monsieur, signor, senor, are of course but varied forms of the word _senior_; and we have more particular instances in the terms sire, senator, and alderman, in matters of state, with patriarch, father (applied to a bishop or a priest) and pope, abbot, priest, presbyter, or elder, in the Church. Thus it came to pass that in the earliest times the aged ruler was usually seen supporting his weight of years by the help of his staff; and the step from this familiar sight to the idea that the staff symbolized his rule, was simple and natural. The sceptre, therefore, which was the needful support of Homer's old councillors, has become the emblem of royal power; and the crutch-stick of the aged bishop is transfigured into the crosier.

This being the case, it is obviously impossible to fix the exact date at which the crosier, or any other of these staves of office, came to be recognized simply as such, the progress from the first idea being in all cases a gradual development. We find the episcopal staff, however, mentioned in connection with S. Caesarius of Arles, who was bishop of that See from A.D. 501 to 542, and it is also referred to by Gregory, Bishop of Tours, in the same century, and again in the proceedings of the Fourth Council of Toledo a little later.

In primitive times it was made of wood, usually of elder, or, as some 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.

Chief among the amateur soldiers of the church in King Edward the First's days, was the proud and magnificent Bishop of Durham, Anthony de Beck, Patriarch of Jerusalem, and Lord of the Isle of Man. At Falkirk he drew an unrighteous sword against Wallace and the Scottish patriots. Previous to the battle he celebrated a soldier's mass on the field, clothed in knightly mail as he was, the long kite-shaped shield slung over his shoulder, the sword girt at his thigh. The ceremony over, he was ready to charge Wallace's schiltrons and archers, but the first column preceded him, led by the Earl Marshal, and Lincoln, and Hereford. He saw man and horse impaled on the huge Scottish spears, and the charging files rolled back in blood, while the Scottish arrows drifted into their ranks. He appreciated the valour of the enemy, and proposed to await the arrival of the numerous archers, who would speedily, and with little loss to themselves, shoot down the Scottish schiltrons. The men-at-arms were, however, eager to close, and Rudulf Basset scornfully advised the Lord Bishop to stick to his mass, while he led the charge. Thus rebuked, the bishop gave the word, leading, sword-in-hand, and furiously assailed the Scottish left, to be hurled back, again and again. The treacherous retreat of the Scottish cavalry left the schiltrons exposed to certain destruction, and the English archers shot them down without mercy.

When Edward III. lay before Calais, he paid Thomas Hatfield, Bishop of Durham, 6s. 8d. per day, and his following in proportion, viz.:--three bannerets at 4s., 48 knights at 2s., 164 esquires at 12d., 81 archers on horseback at 6d. each per day.

Perhaps the most notable of the fighting bishops was Henry Spencer, of Norwich. When the whole of England lay in panic terror at the mercy of the revolted villeins, when drawbridges were raised, gates closed, and knights and nobles hid themselves behind stone walls, Henry Spencer bade trumpets sound, and sallied forth with his men-at-arms, attacking the marching peasants wherever he met them. Emboldened by his example, a few gentlemen associated themselves with him, and he extended his operations to Cambridge and Huntingdon, which were soon pacified. When John Littester, the dyer, leader of the Norfolk villeins, despatched deputies to the king, the alert bishop intercepted them, and incontinently struck off their heads. A body of the villeins had entrenched themselves at North Walsham. Spencer marched against and stormed their position, being the first to enter, sword-in-hand. A furious and protracted conflict followed, ending in the defeat of the peasants, who were pursued and cut to pieces with unsparing severity. Those spared of the sword and lance Spencer strung up to the nearest tree, first receiving their hurried confession, then granting them absolution. He dispersed the revolted peasantry of Suffolk, and set a marked example to the nobility.

During these events, that man of many enemies, John of Gaunt, had retired into Scotland. So obnoxious was he to the peasantry, that when his wife, Constance of Castille, sought refuge in his Castle of Pontefract, the cowardly retainers refused to admit her, and she had to proceed through a wild country, by torchlight, for night had closed in, to her lord's Castle of Knaresborough, where she found a safe haven until Lancaster's return.

The ambitious prelate soon found a wider field for his arms.

When, in consequence of a division among the cardinals, two rival popes were elected, Urban VI. and Clement VII., Europe divided on the question, and France and England were naturally in opposition, the former power giving its adhesion to Clement, the latter to Urban, for England feebly strove to retain some portion of the conquests of Edward III. and the Black Prince. Clement, defeated, found refuge at Avignon, and, obedient to his protector, preached a crusade against Richard II. and the English. Urban excommunicated Clement as an anti-pope, and commissioned Bishop Spencer to conduct a crusade against him. The bishop found numerous enthusiastic supporters, and parliament met to consider whether they should ally themselves with the Flemings, or co-operate with Lancaster, from Spain, against the national enemy. The former scheme was adopted, but the French overran Flanders, and beleagured Ghent, the only town that held out against them. Immediate and energetic action was demanded, and the council resolved to support the bishop, who proposed to drive the French out of Flanders, and then carry the war into their own country. For this purpose certain subsidies were be paid to him.

The bishop, however, altered his mind, and proposed, in return for the fifteenth granted by the laity, to serve one year with 2,500 men-at-arms and 2,500 mounted archers. His offer being accepted, William de Beaucham was appointed his lieutenant, and in the month of May, 1383, he carried a body of troops, and numerous volunteers, to Calais, where he awaited the arrival of his lieutenant with the remainder of the forces. These were delayed, it was alleged by the design of John of Gaunt, and the bishop had no alternative but to employ his headstrong and impatient crusaders. Gravelines was assaulted, and carried.

Dunkirk immediately surrendered, but the Count of Flanders, engaged in the interests of France, marched against the crusaders. Sir Hugh de Calverley had reinforced the bishop, and a battle ensued, resulting in the defeat of the enemy, and the surrender of Cassel, Dixmuyde, Bourburg, Newport, and Popperen.

The King of France hastily took the field with 100,000 men, for the position appeared alarming. Norwich had also received succours, forwarded by that gallant merchant, Sir John Philpot, but the new crusaders were rogues and miscreants of the darkest stain, and were influenced by the prospect of unbounded licence and plunder. In his vexation, Spencer requested Philpot to suspend his supply of naked ruffians, but he had to put a bold face on, and match his 90,000 soldiers, crusaders, and thieves, against the army of France. There was, however, a difference of opinion, amounting to a mutiny in the army, and the mortified bishop found himself constrained to besiege Ypres. Several furious assaults were delivered, but the steady courage of the veteran garrison, posted behind strong defences, foiled the fury of the ill-conducted attacks, and the depression of defeat rested upon the army, which avenged itself by casting off all restraint, and spreading over the country for the purpose of plunder, while the pilgrims deserted in large numbers. The French army approached, and the bishop beat a hasty retreat to Dunkirk, leaving his materials of war behind. Bourburg was occupied by Sir Hugh de Calverley and Sir Thomas Trivet, and the King of France closed them in, threatening to put every man to the sword if the place was not immediately surrendered. The threat was vain, and twice the French fell on, to be bloodily repulsed, when King Charles tendered the garrison quarter, and they marched out and proceeded to Calais. From Bourburg the King carried his army to Gravelines, where he found every prospect of a tough struggle, and wisely concluded to treat rather than fight. The bishop took time to consider the terms proposed, and sent messages to King Richard for succours; but before troops could be collected and embarked, the truce expired, and, agreeable to his undertaking, the bishop dismantled Gravelines, marched the remains of his forces to Calais, and embarked for England.

In Parliament he met with a warm reception for having failed to carry out his engagements, and although his defence entitled him to an honourable acquittal, he was found in default for not having served out his full time, and for the insubordination of his troops. He was mulcted in a severe pecuniary penalty, and the temporalities of his Bishopric were seized. Several of the knights, whose insubordination had tended to produce the miscarriage of the expedition, as Thomas Trivet, Henry Ferners, William Ellingham, and William Harrendon, were fined and imprisoned.

So ended the bishop's campaign, in which, however, he manifested the spirit and capacity of a good captain, but success was, with such a soldiery and so powerful an enemy, absolutely impossible.

Pope Martin V. was one of the most determined opponents of the Hussites, and spared no pains in inciting Europe to move in a crusade against those stubborn heretics, whose extermination was most ardently desired.

A.D. 1426, a crusading army was utterly defeated, with a loss of not less than 15,000 men, before the walls of Aussig. The crusaders mustered not less than 70,000 trained soldiers, supported by 180 pieces of artillery, with 3,000 wagons for transport of stores. Quarter was neither given nor accepted, and the defeated and demoralised army was closely pursued. This memorable battle was fought on the forenoon of Sunday, the 16th of June.

"Then fourteen counts and lords of might
Did from their coursers all alight,
Their sword-points deep in earth did place
And to the Czechians sued for grace.
For prayers and cries they cared not aught,
Silver and gold they set at naught,
E'en as themselves had made reply,
So every man they did to die."

It was the inhumanity, or bigotry, of the Germans that settled the question of quarter, raised by the Hussites before the battle, and afterwards maintained with unsparing severity.

The Germans having failed, the Pope turned to the English, then winning bloody laurels in France. Henry de Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, John of Gaunt's son, and Henry IV.'s brother, was selected for the enterprise. On receiving the Pope's bull, he prepared to raise soldiers and money for the crusade. The preaching of the crusade in England met with little or no response. Ready as the islanders were to exchange the rude courtesies of warfare with their Scottish neighbours, to cross the Channel to destroy the armies and ravage the vineyards and cornfields of France, and, earlier, to take the crusaders' cross and embark for Palestine, it may be questioned if they had ever a genuine disposition for fighting the battles of the popes. Indeed the friction was rough and frequent between Rome and Britain.

In the city of Mechlin, Beaufort published the papal bull. It was instantly and enthusiastically responded to. A somewhat mixed army was assembled. The figures of the historians, 90,000 foot and 90,000 horse, are not easily acceptable, but doubtless the army was a considerable one.

Numerous nobles and knights, including three electors of the empire, marched with and assisted Beaufort, and strengthened the army with their retainers. Perhaps the army lacked cohesion; no doubt its bravest soldiers admitted the terrible might and energy of the foe. Probably those who were not accustomed to arms--townsfolk, artisans, shepherds, and peasants--would be easily influenced by doubt and fear when they found themselves opposed to an enemy whose reputation for valour and severity was so terrible.

Winchester had been created a cardinal, and the Pope's legate-a-latere, but he was fated to attain no honour by arms.

Again invaded by a cruel and presumptuous enemy, both Catholics and Hussites united to defend Bohemia.

In the June of 1427, the crusaders crossed the borders, and encamped before Meiss. Although greatly inferior in numbers, the Bohemians advanced and offered battle. The martial appearance of these iron veterans, the knowledge of their dreadful reputation, curiously effected the crusaders. Instead of pushing on to cross the river and open the attack, they stood at gaze. Awed and daunted by the ominous spectacle before them, their ranks shook with a sudden panic, weapons clashed wildly, standards went down. Horse and foot were inextricably mixed as the first of the panic-stricken wretches broke and fled. A dreadful scene followed. Almost in a moment the huge army was transformed into a confused rout of fugitives. As quickly were the waters of the Meiss darkened by the iron ranks of the Hussites as they pressed forward, to fall upon the panic-stricken crusaders with axe and iron-flail, sword and spear, while bullets and arrows were poured incessantly into the flying masses, and the fugitives fell as thick and fast as sere leaves in an autumnal gale.

The crusading army had committed many outrages during the course of its triumphant march, and as the guilty and licentious wretches, losing all order and cohesion, rushed madly before the flashing steel of the pursuers, the peasantry rose against them on every side, pitiless avengers, whose wrath could be alone satiated by blood. The whole of Bohemia was enriched by the enormous spoil of the vanquished.

The Pope, in condoling with Beaufort, spoke hopefully of the success of a new crusade, but the Englishman was satisfied with the extent, if not the character, of his experience.

Richard Scrope had a brief and most unfortunate experience of military operations. His appearance in arms was purely the result of the complications that followed the deposition of Richard II. and the enthronement of Bolingbroke. Lord Scrope, High Chancellor of England, had devotedly served Edward III. and his grandson, Richard of Bordeaux, and after that dark tragedy at Pontefract, that secured, for the time being, the throne of Lancaster, he endowed a chantry in his castle of Bolton, where daily service was performed for the repose of the dead king's soul. The old man was spared, but the king's hand fell heavily upon his sons. First to fall was the Earl of Wiltshire, who was captured in Bristol Castle, and dragged to the block with indecent haste, and on no sufficient cause, by Bolingbroke's command. This alone might have pre-disposed the Archbishop to ally himself with the King's enemies, when many of the nobles repented that they had set up the son of John of Gaunt in the place of the son of the heroic Black Prince. The avenging of his brother's blood could scarcely fail to influence the Archbishop, but no doubt he was wrought upon by the King's enemies, and felt called upon, if not to avenge the slaying of the King, at least to endeavour to correct his government, and arrest the shedding of blood which so deeply stained the early years of Henry's reign.

The princely power of the Archbishops in Northumbria, and the personal esteem in which Scrope was held, made his appearance in arms peculiarly dangerous to the King. Lord Mowbray associated himself with Scrope, and no sooner was the standard of revolt uplifted than the hardy Yorkshiremen flocked to support their Archbishop. Scrope published a terrible and undeniable indictment against the blood-stained Henry. He was accused of treason, usurpation, regicide, the withholding of the crown from the Earl of March, the lineal heir, with other charges not to be refuted.