Life on a Mediaeval Barony / A Picture of a Typical Feudal Community in the Thirteenth Century

by William Stearns Davis

Chapter XXIII: The Lord Bishop. The Canons. The Parish Clergy.

After Conon and his baroness have soiled their gentle blood by discreet trafficking at the Pontdebois fair, the seigneur must needs pay a ceremonious call upon the lord bishop. He might indeed have accepted lodgings at the episcopal palace, but it is well not to be put under too many obligations even to so conciliatory a prelate as Bishop Nivelon. Between the lay and ecclesiastical lords there are compliments, but little affection. Both unite in despising the villein and distrusting the monks, but there the harmony often ends.

The lord bishop occupies almost the apex of the ecclesiastical power, barring only the Pope and his cardinals; and all the lay world ought to honor the clergy. A familiar story illustrates the recognition due even to the humbler churchmen. Once St. Martin was asked to sup with the emperor. He was offered the cup before it was passed to the sovereign. This was a great honor. He was supposed merely to touch the vessel to his lips, then hand it on to his Majesty. Instead, to the surprise yet admiration of all, he gave it to a poor priest standing behind him, thereby teaching the plain lesson that a servant of God, even of the lowest rank, deserves honor above the highest secular potentate.

The clergy is divided into two great sections—the religious (the monks) and the secular clergy who are "in the world" and have the "cure of souls." The parish priests belong, of course, to this second class. They celebrate mass and administer the sacraments and consolations of religion. They are possibly reckoned by the laity a little less holy than the monks, but their power is incalculable. At their head in each diocese (ecclesiastical province) is the bishop. Since the wealth of the Church embraces at least one fifth of all the real estate of France[120] and the control of this vast property is largely vested in the bishops, it is easy to see what holding such an office implies. There is no seigneur in Quelqueparte so rich as Bishop Nivelon, barring only the duke himself—and the duke would justly hesitate, quite apart from feelings of piety, to force a quarrel with so great a spiritual lord.

Activities and Privileges of Clergy

EPISCOPAL THRONE OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY

Restored by Viollet-Le-Duc, from an ivory in the Louvre.

It will be hard for other ages to realize the part that is played by the Church in the feudal centuries. The clergy are far more than spiritual guides. They are directors of education and maintain about all there is of intellectual life, science, and learning. They help the weak secular authorities to preserve law and order. They supply practically all the teachers, lawyers, and professional nonfeudal judges in Christendom, and very many of the physicians. As already stated, that multitude of legal cases known as "probate," involving the disposal of wide estates, often go directly to the Church Courts.

If an ordinary man appears interested in literary matters, he is frequently set down as a "clerk," even if he does not openly claim to have received holy orders. It is indeed very desirable legally for a common person (not a privileged noble) to be barely literate. If he can do this and is arrested on any charge, he can often "plead his clergy." The test is not to produce a certificate showing that he is a priest or monk, but to be able to read a few lines from the Bible or other sacred book. If he can read these fateful "neck verses," he may sometimes escape a speedy interview with the hangman. He is then ordinarily handed over to the bishop or the bishop's official (judicial officer) and tried according to the merciful and scientific canon law, which, whatever the offense, will seldom or never order the death penalty, save for heresy.[121] The worst to be feared is a long imprisonment in the uncomfortable dungeon under the bishop's palace.

With conditions like this, what wonder if very worldly elements keep intruding into the secular clergy. Many a baron's son balances in his mind—which is better, the seigneur's "cap of presence" or the bishop's miter? The bishop, indeed, cannot marry; but the Church is not always very stern in dealing with other forms of social enjoyment. Sometimes a powerful reforming Pope will make the prelates affect a monkish austerity—but the next Pope may prove too busy to be insistent concerning "sins of the flesh." A great fraction of all the bishops are the sons of noble houses. Merely becoming tonsured has not made them into saints. They are the children of fighting sires, and they bring into the Church much of the turbulence of their fathers and brothers in the castles.

Election of Bishops

A BISHOP OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY

From an enameled plaque representing Ulger, bishop of Angers (1125-1149). He wears the albe, the dalmatica, the chasuble, the amice, and the miter. He blesses with the right hand, an attitude in which bishops are often represented.

Certainly, men of humble birth can become prelates. It is one of the glories of the Church that, thanks to her, the children of poor villeins can receive the homage of the great in this world. Pope Sylvester II was the son of a mere shepherd of Aurillac. Suger, the mighty abbot of St. Denis and vice gerent for Louis VI, was the son of an actual serf. Pope Hadrian IV, the only Englishman who has ever mounted the throne of St. Peter, seems to have had an origin hardly more exalted. All this shows what fortune can sometimes await bright and lucky boys who enter betimes the convent schools instead of following the plow.[122] But Heaven seldom reverses the natural order. As a rule, when a noble enters the church, family influence and the social prestige of his caste will get behind him. He is far more likely to be elected bishop and to enjoy the seats of glory than are his fellow clerics, learned and devout, who have no such backing.

Nivelon of Pontdebois is an example of the average bishop of the superior kind. He was the second son of a sire of moderate means. Family influence secured him, while fairly young, the appointment as canon at the cathedral. The old bishop conveniently happened to die at a time when both the duke and his suzerain, the king, thought well of the young canon and were anxious to conciliate his relatives. Nivelon, too, had displayed sufficient grasp on business affairs, along with real piety, to make men say that he would prove a worthy "prince spiritual." The canons (with whom the choice nominally lay) made haste to elect him after a broad hint from both the duke and the king. Confirmation was obtained from Rome after negotiations and possibly some money transfers.[123] Since then Nivelon has ruled his diocese well. He has been neither a great theologian nor a man of letters, as are certain contemporaneous bishops, nor a self-seeking politician and a mitered warrior like others. There have been no scandalous luxuries at his palace, and he has never neglected his duties—which none can deny are numerous.

There is plenty of excuse for Nivelon if he allows religious tasks to be swamped by secular ones. He apparently differs largely from a seigneur in that his interests and obligations are more complex. On his direct domains are parish churches, abbeys, farms, peasant villages, and forests which he must rule by his officials and provosts just as Conon rules St. Aliquis. He has many noble fiefs which owe him homage and regular feudal duties in peace and war. His knightly vassals wait on him, as do regular lieges, and are bound on state occasions to carry him through his cathedral city seated on his episcopal throne. He does not himself do ordinary homage to the king, but he must take to him a solemn oath of fealty, and assist with armed levies on proper summons. There are many clergy around his palace, but also a regular baronial household—seneschal, steward, chamberlain, marshal, and equerry, though not, as with the laxer prelates, a master of the hawks.

So much for Monseigneur Nivelon's temporal side; but, since he is a self-respecting prelate, his ecclesiastical office is no sinecure. He has to ordain and control all the parish priests (curés), and spends much of his time inspecting the rural churches and listening to complaints against offending priests, suspending and punishing the guilty. Indeed, his days are consumed by a curious mixture of duties. Just before Conon ceremoniously calls upon him he has been listening first to a complaint from a castellan about the need of new trenchbuts for the defense of a small castle pertaining to the bishopric, and then to the report of his "official" concerning a disorderly priest accused of blaspheming the Trinity while in his cups in a tavern.

Ecclesiastical Duties of Bishops

Once a year Nivelon has to hold a synod in the choir of his cathedral. All the nonmonastic clergy of the diocese are supposed to be present, and he has to preach before them, stating home truths about Christian conduct and administering public reprimands and discipline. Often his routine is interrupted by the commands of the king that he, as a well-versed man of the world, shall come to Paris to give counsel, or even go to England or Flanders as the royal ambassador. If the king does not demand his time, the Pope is likely to be using him to investigate some disorderly abbey,[124] or as arbiter between two wrangling fellow ecclesiastics. It would be lucky if a summons did not presently come, ordering the bishop to take the very tedious and expensive journey to Rome to assist at some council (such as the Lateran Council of 1215) or be party to some long-drawn litigation.

A BISHOP OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY

From the tomb of Evrard de Frouilloy, bishop of Amiens, died in 1229 and was buried in the cathedral of that city. He wears beneath the albe, the chasuble.

A conscientious bishop can, indeed, be no idler. If he has any spare time he can always spend it sitting as judge in cases which if he is compelled to be absent he deputes to his official. The canon law is far more scientific than local customs. Nivelon, or his deputy, has also a clear understanding of issues which will leave even so well-meaning a seigneur as Conon hopelessly befuddled. The Church courts refuse to settle cases by duels. As a rule, too, they discourage ordeals, despite the alleged intervention of God therein. Trials in the bishop's court betake of inquests based on firm evidence taken before experienced judges. The result is that many honest suitors try to get their cases before the Church tribunals—and, as stated, the jurisdiction of the Church is very wide. A bishop, therefore, if he wishes, can put in almost his whole time playing the Solomon; or, if he prefer, he can almost always find the estates of the diocese enmeshed in financial problems which it will tax his best energies to disentangle.

All these things Nivelon is supposed to do or must get done. What wonder (considering mortal frailty) that many men who seek the episcopate for temporal advantage often bring their great office into contempt? It is true that sometimes very worldly young clerics, when once elected, are sobered by their responsibilities and become admirable prelates. There is a story of a college of canons which decided to elect to the vacant bishopric a fellow member "who was excellent in mother wit," but who, when they sought him to tell of his honor, was actually dicing in a tavern. Forth they dragged him, "weeping and struggling," to the cathedral, and thrust him into the episcopal chair. Once enthroned, however, he proved sober and capable, thus proving how, despite his original sins, "the free gift of virtue which had come upon him (by consecration) shaped the possibilities of an excellent nature."

Evil and Luxurious Prelates

This is all very well, but the sacred honor does not always work such reformation. The monks never conceal the faults of the rival branch of the clergy. A monkish preacher has lately declaimed: "The bishops surpass as wolves and foxes. They bribe and flatter in order to extort. Instead of being protectors of the Church, they are its ravishers." Or again, "Jesus wore hair cloth; they silken vestments. They care not for souls, but for falcons; not for the poor, but for hunting dogs. The churches from being holy places have become market places and haunts for brigands." Most of this is mere rhetoric, and such sweeping generalizations are unjust. If the majority of bishops are not ascetics, neither are they rapacious libertines. Nevertheless, even as one ill-ruled abbey brings contempt on many austere establishments, so a few faithless bishops bring scandal on the whole episcopate. Some years ago Pope Innocent III had to denounce a South French bishop as "serving no other God but money, and having a purse in place of a heart." This wretch was charged with selling Church offices, or leaving them vacant in order to seize their incomes, while the monks and canons under him (says the Pope) "were laying aside the habit, taking wives, living by usury, and becoming lawyers, jongleurs, or doctors."[125]

Acts like these have forced the Council of Paris in 1212 to forbid bishops to wear laymen's garments or luxurious furs; to use decorated saddles or golden horse bits, to play games of chance, to go hunting, to swear or let their servants swear, to hear matins while still in bed, or excommunicate innocent people out of mere petulance. Bishops, too, are not supposed to bear arms, but we have seen how they sometimes compromise on "bloodless" heavy maces. Nivelon occasionally lets a secular advocate or vidame lead his feudal levy, but at times he will ride in person. A bishop, of course, was King Philip's chief of staff at Bouvines,[126] although in excuse it should be said he had been the member of a military monastic order; but Bishop Odo of Bayeux fought at Hastings (1066) before any such authorized champions of the Church existed. One need not multiply examples. That bishops shall genuinely refrain from warfare is really a "pious wish" not easily in this sinful world to be granted.

A bishop can, however, justify this assertion of the Church militant. He must fight to maintain the rights of the bishopric against the encroaching nobility. Around the royal domain conditions are reasonably secure, but here in Quelqueparte, as elsewhere in the average feudal principalities, it is useless to ask the suzerain to do very much to defend his local bishop, the two are so likely to be very unfriendly themselves. Anathemas cannot check the more reckless seigneurs. In 1208 the Bishop of Verdun was killed in a riot by a lance thrust, and in this very year 1220 the Bishop of Puy (in the south of France) has been slain by noblemen whom he had excommunicated. The murderers have doubtless lost their souls, but this fact does not recall the dead! Jongleurs (who echo baronial prejudices) are always making fun of bishops, in their epics alleging that they lead scandalous lives and are extraordinarily avaricious, even when summoned to contribute for a war against the Infidels. The truth is, the bishops, being often recruited from the nobility, frequently keep all their old fighting spirit. The bishop opposes a neighboring viscount, just as the viscount will oppose his other neighbor, a baron. Frequently enough the war between a bishop and a lay seigneur differs in no respect from a normal feud between two seigneurs who have never been touched by tonsure and chrism.

Friction with Abbots and Barons

There are other frictions less bloody, but even more distressing to the Church. If there is an exempt abbey in the diocese—independent of the bishop and taking orders from only the Pope—the abbot and the bishop are often anything but "brethren." Each is continually complaining about the other to the Vatican. However, even if the local abbey is not directly under the Pope, its head is likely to defy the bishop as much as possible. Abbots are always trying to put themselves on equality with bishops and intriguing at Rome for the right to wear episcopal sandals, a miter, etc. So the strength of the Church is wasted, to the great joy of the devil. It is counted a sign that the Bishop of Pontdebois and the Abbot of St. Aliquis are both superior prelates, that their relations are reasonably harmonious.

However, it is with the nobles that Nivelon has his main troubles. One of the reasons why Conon wishes to see the bishop is to complain of how certain St. Aliquis peasants are being induced to settle on the Church lands. Villeins somehow feel that they are better treated by a bishop or abbot than by the most benevolent of seigneurs. "There is good living under the cross," runs the proverb. Also, the baron wishes to urge the bishop not to excommunicate a fellow noble who is at issue with the prelate over some hunting rights. It is all very well for the bishop to devote to the evil one and the eternal fire a really sacrilegious criminal. The fact remains that many nobles allege that they are excommunicated, and unless reinstated lose their very hopes of heaven, merely because they have differed from great churchmen as to extremely secular property questions. The fearful ceremony of excommunication is liable to fall into contempt except when used in the most undoubted cases. A resolute baron, sure of his cause, can defy the anathema and, if his followers stand by him, may hold out until he forces a compromise.

If the struggle is bitter, however, the bishop has another weapon. He can put the offending seigneur's lands and castles under the Interdict. Doubtless it is a harsh thing to deny all religious services and sacraments, save the last unction to the dying, to thousands of innocent persons merely because their lord persists in some worldly policy. Yet this is done frequently, and is, of course, of great efficacy in getting pious people, and especially the womenfolk, to put pressure upon their seigneur to come to terms with the Church. Sometimes an "intermittent" interdict is established. Thus, for a long time the Count and the Bishop of Auxerre were at enmity. The count, a hardened scoffer, was no wise troubled by excommunication. Then the bishop ordained that as soon as the count entered the city of Auxerre all the offices of religion, except baptism and last unction, should be suspended. The moment he and his men departed the church bells rang and religious life resumed. The instant he returned there was more bell ringing—whereat the churches were closed. The count did not dare to stay very long in the city, because of popular murmurs; yet he and the bishop kept up this unedifying war for fifteen years until the Pope induced the king to induce the count to submit to the Church by a humiliating penance.

Excommunication and interdict are thus weapons which a lord spiritual can use against a lord temporal, to supplement crossbows and lances. Unfortunately they have fewer terrors against foes which all bishops, including Nivelon, have within their own household—the chapters of canons at the cathedrals.

A Chapter of Canons

To be a canon is almost equal to enjoying the perquisites of some less valuable bishopric without the grievous cares of the episcopal office. The chapter of canons constitutes the privileged body of ecclesiastics who maintain the worship at the cathedral.

As you go through Pontdebois you see the great gray mass of the new episcopal church rising ahead of you. Presently a solid wall is reached, protected by a gate and towers. This is the cathedral "close," a separate compound next to the majestic church and communicating with it by a special entrance. Within this close one passes under strictly ecclesiastical jurisdiction. Here is a pretentious residence, the bishop's palace, and a pleasant garden, and here is also a group of smaller houses—the habitations of the canons. These last form the chapter of canons who enjoy as a corporate body a quantity of lands, seigneurial rights, officers, and goodly income quite separate from the bishops. Supposedly they are controlled by a Rule, but it is a rule far less severe than that of most monks.

The chapter here, as elsewhere, is largely recruited from the local noble houses. Church law nominally forbids it, but the fact remains that many, if not most, canons are practically nominated, whenever there is a vacancy in the chapter, by this or that powerful seigneur. To get a relative a prebend (income from endowment) as canon is often equivalent to providing for life for a kinsman to whom you might otherwise have to cede a castle. It is well understood that since years ago a baron of St. Aliquis endowed with large gifts a certain prebend, his successors have the naming of its occupants, as often as it falls vacant. After Conon has visited the bishop, he will pay a friendly call on "his canon," not without a certain desire to verify the reports that this elderly cleric is in poor health and not long for the present world. If such rumors are correct, the baron must consider whether a certain remote cousin feels summoned to endure the hardships of a religious life, and what substantial favors this ambitious cousin and his father could give Conon for the privilege.

A canon who performs all his duties is hardly idle. He is supposed to take part in the incessant and often extraordinarily elaborate services at every cathedral. He should possess a good physical presence, and intone the offices with elegance and precision. Every week day he has to chant through five services, and on Sunday through nine. On certain great feasts and holidays there are still more. Anthems, responses, psalms, prayers, hymns, also public processions should keep him turning leaves of the ponderous ordinaries and manuals until he knows every chant therein by heart.

Worldliness of Canons

It is possible, however, to find substitutes in all the less important services. There are plenty of humbly born poor priests hovering around every cathedral, glad of a pittance to act as the lordly canon's deputies. A worldly minded canon therefore does not feel this duty of chanting to be very arduous. Of course, if he is absent too often, or from very important ceremonies, there is comment, scandal, and a reprimand from the bishop; but a wise bishop does not interfere with his canons except on grave provocation. They form an independent corporation with well-intrenched privileges. Their head, the dean, is entirely conscious that he is the second cleric in the diocese and that he need not look to the bishop for dignity and glory. The bishop himself has been to a certain extent chosen by these very canons. It will depend considerably upon their attitude toward him whether his dying moments are not embittered by the knowledge that his dearest enemy is not to be elected his successor. Finally, a chapter of canons can make a bishop's life a Gehenna by filing complaints against him with the archbishop (always glad to interfere), or directly at Rome. When men say that Nivelon has got along tolerably with his chapter as well as with his neighboring abbot and seigneurs, they prove again that he is an unusually tactful prelate.

It is a fine thing, therefore, to be one of the dozen-odd canons, young or old, who inhabit the sacred close at Pontdebois. They can be identified by their special costume, the loose surplice of linen with wide sleeves covering the cassock, and by the "amice," a headdress of thick black stuff with a flat top and terminating on each corner in a kind of horn.

Baron Conon points out to his sons these well-fed men of florid complexion, contented and portly, moving with slow dignity about the cathedral close. "How would you enjoy being a canon?" he asks of small Anseau, his youngest boy. "There are no better dinners than those in the chapter refectory; and remember that your brother will have to get the castle."

Anseau shakes his head and scowls: "I might be a monk, yes," he rejoined; "monks save their souls and go to heaven—but a canon—ugh! They must weary God by their idleness. François may have St. Aliquis; but let him give me a good destrer and good armor. I will seek my fortune and win new lands."

"The saints bless your words," cries his father, "there spoke a true St. Aliquis! And remember this: When cavalier or jongleur rails hardest against worthless churchmen, it is not bishop, priest, or monk whom half the time they have in their pates, but slothful canons. Yet I must see the Revered Father Flavien, and learn if his cough is really as bad as they say!"

Nivelon secures peace by letting his canons largely alone—to their great content. Fortunately, the good laymen of Quelqueparte do not depend entirely upon their spiritual administrations. The "cure of souls" rests with the parish priests. These are scattered all through the diocese. Their management takes up a large part of the bishop's crowded time.

Appointment of Parish Priests

A DEACON (THIRTEENTH CENTURY)

He wears an albe, the dalmatica, the amice, the stole, and the maniple. From a statue in the cathedral of Chartres.

Every church requires at least one priest in residence to say mass and afford religious comfort to the laity. If competent bishops could always have appointed this clergy, much sorrow would have been eliminated. Unfortunately, the bishop can only name a fraction. Practically every noncathedral church has its patron, the heir or beneficiary of the wealthy personage who once endowed the local establishment. This patron may be the bishop himself, but often the honor may be enjoyed by an abbey, or a chapter of canons, or, in a majority of cases, by some very secular seigneur. Conon will say. "I hold the patronage of eight churches," just as he will say, "I hold St. Aliquis castle." The patron is entitled to a share of the tithe (tax for religious purposes) and other income of the parish, before turning the remainder over to the officiating priest. He can, in addition, "present to the living"—that is, name the new curé for the parish upon every vacancy. The bishop is supposed, indeed, to confirm the candidate, and should not do so without investigation as to the other's fitness, but he will hesitate to offend the patron by refusal to proceed with the ceremony unless the impediment is gross and patent. The candidate is asked to decline a Latin noun, to conjugate a simple verb, to chant a few familiar psalms with fair voice—that is probably about all the test for learning. To make matters worse, if the candidate fears his own bishop, he can go to another diocese and probably get a licence from a less exacting prelate. A bishop is obliged to honor the certificate issued by his equal. He can seldom then refuse after that to invest the priest with the parish.

The last stage of scandal comes when the patron actually takes money for presenting a candidate. This is, of course, a terrible crime against the Church: it is simony—after the fashion of the accursed Simon Magnus, who was guilty of trying to purchase "the gift of God with money." Nivelon has just had to induct into a parish an ill-taught, worldly fellow, the son of a rich peasant, who somehow persuaded the Viscount of Foretvert that he was fit to have the spiritual conduct of five hundred Christians. The bishop has heard ugly rumors about "two hundred deniers," yet for lack of real proof is helpless. It is feared these scandals are frequent, but many times, if candidate and seigneur are willing to imperil their souls, what can be done?

As a rule, however, conscientious patrons name well-reputed lads from their barony, the sons of thrifty peasants or of petty nobles, who have been to the school attached to a convent or cathedral, and who have developed an aptitude for saying masses rather than for plowing or fighting. The favor is bestowed rather as a reward for faithful service by the youth's family or to insure the same in the future, than for any direct money consideration. To be a parish priest is not a very high honor. After the patron has taken his share of the tithe, and the bishop another share, the curé is likely to be left with barely enough income to put him among the better class of peasants.

Yet, after all, he is now caught up into the great body politic of the Church. The latter will not let him starve. It will give him a decent old age. It will protect him against those gross cruelties which seigneurs may inflict on any peasant. It will make him the most important individual in the average village—often the only person therein understanding the mysteries of parchments. If he is a worthy man, his influence as counselor, friend, and arbiter will be almost boundless. He will receive a personal respect almost equal to that due to a cavalier. Finally, there is always the chance that he may win some magnate's favor, and by good luck or merit rise to greater things. Father Grégoire, Conon's chaplain, although nominally only a poor priest, is probably more influential in St. Aliquis than Sire Eustace, the seneschal—Conon sometimes complains good naturedly that he is more powerful than Conon himself. So then, apart from any desire for strictly religious leadership, it is no bad thing for a lad of humble origin to be appointed parish priest.

Evil and Faithful Priests

If, however, to receive a parish means not a holy trust, but a sordid opportunity, what a chance for making the fiends rejoice! Every jongleur, when he runs out of more legitimate stories, chatters about godless priests. Charges against the parish clergy are the small coin of filthy gossip—how they violate their vows of celibacy in a shameless manner; how they frequent taverns, take part in low brawls, drink "up to their throats," and lie torpid in the fields; how they fight with their parishioners; how they sell strong drink like tapsters; how they play dice, gamble and often cheat their opponents, etc.

Another set of charges is that if their means admit, they wear armor like nobles, or dress like foppish laymen, and ride out with hawks or dogs. More familiar still are the accusations of extreme covetousness; of the outrageous exaction of fees for administering the sacraments, even to the dying; of performing shameless marriages for money; of refusing burial services until they have been bribed; and, in short, of converting themselves into financial harpies.

All this is undeniable. Yet it must be remembered that the number of parish clergy is very great, and the proportion of evildoers is (considering their manner of appointment) no more than might be expected. Many of the parish priests are true ministers of God who counsel the simple, persuade the erring, comfort the sorrowing, and leave the world better than they found it. A few, too, spend their leisure in genuine pursuit of learning, like that Father Lambert of Ardes (in Flanders) who is deeply read in old Latin authors and Christian fathers and who has composed an excellent local chronicle—worthy to rank with the best produced in the monasteries.

Taken, therefore, at large, despite much dross, the men of the Church do not cast away their great opportunity. If alms and charity relieve the wretched, if letters and science have a genuine power, if the world retains other ideals than those of the tourney, the feud, and the foray, if villeins are taught that they, too, are men with immortal souls no less than are the barons, the glory belongs surely not to the castle, but to the monastery and to the parish. And when a good churchman dies, especially, of course, if he has been an effective and benignant bishop, all the region knows its loss. When the late Bishop of Auxerre departed, it was written, "It would be impossible to tell how great was the mourning throughout the entire city, and with what groaning and lamentations sorrow was shown by all who followed his funeral." While of the great and good Bishop Maurice of Paris, builder of Notre Dame, it was recorded, when he passed in 1196, that "he was a vessel of affluence, a fertile olive tree in the house of the Lord. He shone by his knowledge, his preaching, his many alms, and his good deeds."

Like every other institution, the Church of the Feudal Age is entitled to be judged by its best and not by its worst.