Ecclesiastical Administration in Medieval England: The Anglo Saxons to the Reformation

1978 ◽  
Vol 83 (1) ◽  
pp. 143
Author(s):  
Joseph H. Lynch ◽  
Robert E. Rodes
1969 ◽  
Vol 9 (1) ◽  
pp. 1-23 ◽  
Author(s):  
W. R. Jones

During the later Middle Ages in England both church and state were multiplying their pretensions and powers. The growth of spiritual and temporal administration alike depended upon the availability of bureaucrats willing and able to serve the two powers in the fields of finance, law, administration, and diplomacy. In the absence of cash for paying for services of this kind, popes, prelates, and princes developed means for subsidizing their civil services from sources of revenue to which they were able to invent and enforce claims. This reliance upon the community of the clergy for official service and upon benefices of the church for their maintenance and compensation had the effect of coloring certain ecclesiastical offices down to the Reformation. Prebendal canonries, archdeaconries, and even parish churches came to be viewed more and more as simply sources of emolument — as sinecures to be bestowed upon members of the clergy for the performance of services other than those demanded by the offices given them. For identical reasons English kings, Roman popes, and native prelates laid claim to a variety of ecclesiastical offices and the revenues attached to them in order to obtain the services and skills without which neither church nor state could function effectively in the increasingly complex world of the later Middle Ages. All of this is, of course, well known, and modern scholars have explored rather thoroughly the composition and growth of royal and ecclesiastical administration and the major ways in which each was subsidized.


1973 ◽  
Vol 24 (1) ◽  
pp. 9-21 ◽  
Author(s):  
Richard G. Davies

The appearance of the contemporary archbishop of Canterbury in the crises and conflicts of later medieval England has never surprised historians. For not only by tradition but in terms of real political weight the archbishop, unlike his brother of York, had a part to play in the affairs of the realm which he could scarcely hope to avoid, no matter how invidious. Appointed almost invariably with the close and usually decisive interest of the Crown in mind, the archbishop could anticipate repeated calls from the Crown for his support, counsel and service. However, thoughtful contemporaries and broadminded historians alike have for the most part been at pains to put this particular aspect into the wider context of the archiepiscopal function as a whole; the approaching cloud of the Reformation has not deceived historians into underestimating the considerable stature and merits of the metropolitans of this period. Whatever unsatisfactory reasons of state, ambition or faction lay behind their promotion, almost to a man they performed their arduous duties, with their diverse and often contradictory obligations, with good intent, frequent self-sacrifice and more often than not considerable success, at least in the eyes of the orthodox churchmen of their own time. If their political appearances alone have entered the textbooks, closer observers have been aware that the care of the Church was their first concern, and political involvement a distraction and a burden. At times the service of two masters posed its dilemmas, but usually the Crown preserved the archiepiscopal position by a fundamental respect for its other loyalties to God, the pope and the Church, and did not call for an irrevocable commitment fracturing these obligations.


2007 ◽  
Vol 43 ◽  
pp. 230-240
Author(s):  
Ian Forrest

When John Edward of Brington in Northamptonshire abjured heresy in the ‘Greneyerd’ of Norwich cathedral close on Palm Sunday 1405, he was presented to the gathered crowds as a living example of the dangers of diversity in the Christian faith. Because heresy was feared as a fundamental challenge to doctrine, authority, and social harmony, the agents of Church and crown went to great lengths in the period between 1382 and the Reformation to advertise its depravity and illegality. The anti-heresy message was not, however, a simple one, and the judicial performances that constitute the Church’s propaganda campaign on this issue sometimes used highly equivocal rhetoric and images. In these performances heresy was capable of being represented as a minority sectarian problem, or one diffused throughout society. In truth it was both, and so the anti-heresy message had to encompass much more nuance than one might imagine. This essay focuses on the campaign against the lollards in late medieval England, in particular John Edward’s staged abjuration, which is recorded in a letter sent by the presiding bishop, Henry Despenser, to his archbishop, Thomas Arundel. This certification presents a compelling tableau vivant encompassing the penitent, the crowds, and the authorities of Church, crown, and city. In their efforts to stage-manage the abjuration of heresy, however, these authorities had not only to navigate the complexity of anti-heretical rhetoric and present it to a large audience, but, perhaps more importantly, had to overcome considerable rancour and division within their own ranks, to present a unified front against the threat of heresy. For they had to show diat there was a unity from which heretics were deviating. Edward’s abjuration, therefore, offered an important opportunity to demonstrate repentance, and to invite the clergy and people of Norwich to consider the dangers posed by their own tendencies towards disunity.


1990 ◽  
Vol 41 (4) ◽  
pp. 647-678 ◽  
Author(s):  
Peter Heath

Forty years ago the story of the Church in late medieval England was a simple one and not very different from the version which had prevailed half a century before that. The interpretation presented by W. Capes in 1900 had been slightly modified but largely underlined by 1950, and the Church and its development which was commonly depicted in that year would not have been strikingly unfamiliar to him. The current version was that, after the reforming efforts of the thirteenth century, which failed to achieve their end, and the advent of the friars, who even by the middle of that century were departing from their earlier zeal and purity, the Church in the following hundred years was exploited by the pope when it was not saved or oppressed by the Crown. The resulting corruption of the clergy contributed to its negligence and provoked an eruption of heresy which in due course was savagely suppressed and virtually expunged; rid of this threat, the fifteenth-century clergy were so notorious for their laxity, greed and mediocrity that a few devout members of the laity, perhaps inspired by the mystical writings, took refuge in private devotions which anticipated the individualism of the Protestant. The Reformation was viewed as the inescapable result of these circumstances.


2006 ◽  
Vol 42 ◽  
pp. 89-98 ◽  
Author(s):  
A. K. McHardy

When K. B. McFarlane wrote his biography of John Wycliffe he was surprised to find that the hero who emerged was not Wycliffe himself but his implacable opponent, William Courtenay, the archbishop of Canterbury from 1381 to 1396. ‘Justice has never been done to Courtenay’s high qualities, above all to the skill and magnanimity with which he led his order through the crisis that now threatened it’, he wrote admiringly, adding by way of explanation that, ‘Since the reformation his has been the unpopular side.’ The impression McFarlane gave is that there were two ecclesiastical camps in late fourteenth-century England: heretical and orthodox. The fabric of English church life was fractured then, for ever, by the beliefs and work of Wycliffe and his adherents; was not McFarlane’s biography entitled John Wycliffe and the Beginnings of English Nonconformity? Yet McFarlane’s assessment of heresy was that this was far from being a monolithic movement; indeed, in a private letter he wrote, ‘Wycliffe was merely an extremist in a widespread reform movement.’


Sign in / Sign up

Export Citation Format

Share Document