The subjection of England to an alien, half-heathen aristocracy must have caused many difficulties to the English Church. How the problems were met we do not know. The Mediæval Church, however, was usually to be found on the side of power: the Church loved order and believed in supporting good and efficient government whenever circumstances would permit it. Soon after the meeting at Oxford, apparently in 1019, Archbishop Lifing made a journey to Rome; we may conjecture that he went to seek counsel and to obtain instructions as to what attitude the English clergy should assume toward the new powers, but we do not know. It is clear, however, that the subject was seriously discussed at the papal court, for the archbishop brought back a letter to Canute exhorting him to practise the virtues of Christian kingship. It must have nattered the young Dane to receive this, for he refers to it in his Proclamation:
I have taken to heart the written words and verbal messages that Archbishop Lifing brought me from the pope from Rome, that I should everywhere extol the praise of God, put away injustice, and promote full security and peace, so far as God should give me strength.[228]
That same year the venerable Primate died, and Ethelnoth the Good was appointed to succeed him as Archbishop of Canterbury.[229] The choice was evidently the King's own and the two men seem to have laboured together in singular harmony. But though Ethelnoth was primate, the dominant influence at court seems to have been that of an abbot in Devonshire. When Abbot Lifing was yet only a monk at Winchester, he seems to have attracted the King's attention; at any rate, we are told by the historian of Malmesbury that he became an intimate friend of Canute and exerted great influence with him.[230] It may have been this friendship that secured to Lifing the abbacy of Tavistock, perhaps in 1024, in which year he witnessed charters for the first time as abbot.
Lifing's advance to power was rapid. Two years after his first appearance in the documents as abbot, we find that he had been elevated to the episcopal office, having probably been advanced to the see of Crediton.[231] The Devonshire country had been the centre of a persistent anti-Danish movement, it appears, and it was surely a prudent move to place a strong partisan of the new order in control of the Church in the southwestern shires. In the same year, the King further honoured him with landed estates in Hampshire. This must have been just prior to the Holy River campaign in Sweden, on which expedition the bishop probably accompanied his royal master (William of Malmesbury tells us that he frequently went to Denmark with Canute); at all events, when Canute without first returning to England made his journey to Rome, in the early months of 1027, the bishop of Crediton was an important member of the King's retinue. It was Bishop Lifing who was sent back to England with Canute's famous message to the English Church and people, the King himself going on to Denmark. William of Malmesbury describes him as a violent, wilful, and ambitious prelate; when he died (in 1046) the earth took proper notice and trembled throughout all England.[232]
The year 1020 was one of great significance for English history in the reign of Canute. In that year he returned to England as Danish king; in that same year he issued his Proclamation to his Anglian subjects and announced his new governmental policy; the same year saw the appointment of a new and friendly primate of the Anglican Church; in that year, too, began a series of benefactions and other semi-religious acts that made Canute's name dear to the English churchmen and secured him the favour of monastic chroniclers. These took various forms: new foundations were established and many of the older ones received increased endowments; monasteries that had been defiled or destroyed in the Danish raids were repaired or rebuilt; the fields where the Lord of Hosts had given the victory to Canute's armies were adorned with churches where masses were said for the souls of the slain; saints were honoured; pilgrimages were made; heathen practices were outlawed.
The series properly begins with the consecration of the church on Ashington field in 1020. The church itself was apparently a modest structure, but the dedication ceremonies were elaborate. As the primacy was evidently vacant at the time, Archbishop Lifing having died about mid-year (June 12),[233] the venerable Wulfstan of the northern province was called on to officiate. With him were numerous ecclesiastics, bishops, abbots, and monks. King Canute and Earl Thurkil also graced the occasion with their presence.[234] It is interesting to note that the office of chapel priest at Ashington was given to a clerk of Danish blood, the later prelate Stigand, one of the few Danes who have held ecclesiastical offices in England. Stigand for a time sat on the episcopal throne in the cathedrals of Winchester and Canterbury. Doubtless a Dane could perform the offices on this particular field with a blither spirit than a native Englishman. If the intention was to impress the English Church, Canute clearly succeeded. Though details are wanting, it is understood that similar foundations soon graced the other fields where Canute had fought and won.
In that same year, apparently, monks were substituted for secular clerks as guardians of Saint Edmund's shrine. Grievously had the Danes sinned against the holy East Anglian King. Five generations earlier he had suffered ignominious martyrdom at the hands of the vikings. The saint had again suffered outrage in the closing months of King Sweyn's life by what seemed to be petty persecution of the priests who served at his sacred shrine. As we have already seen, the King's sudden death while the matter of tribute was still unsettled gave rise to the legend that Saint Edmund struck down the Dane "in like manner as the holy Mercurius slew the nithing Julian."
It was charged that the priests of the holy place led disorderly lives, and on the advice of the neighbouring bishop, Elfwine of Elmham, it was determined to eject them. Earl Thurkil's consent was asked and received. Monks to the number of twenty were brought from Saint Benet Hulme and Ely.[235] The same year a new church was begun, that the relics of the martyr might have a more suitable home. The monks naturally organised themselves into a monastic community, which seems to have enjoyed full immunity from the very beginning: a trench was run around Saint Edmund's chapel on the edge of which all tax-gathering was to stop. In addition it is said that the Lady Emma pledged an annual gift of tour thousand eels from Lakenheath, though this was probably a later contribution. The brethren of the monastery also claimed that Canute granted them extensive jurisdiction over the manors that belonged to the new foundation.[236] It is evident that large endowments were given and Canute in this way became in a sense the founder of one of the most important sanctuaries of mediæval England.
William of Malmesbury tells us that Canute disliked the English saints, but the evidence indicates the contrary. The only instance of ill-will recorded is in the case of Saint Edith, King Edgar's holy daughter. Saint Edith rested at Wilton, where there was a religious house for women that had enjoyed her patronage. Canute expressed a doubt as to the sanctity of a daughter of the immoral Edgar and ordered the shrine to be opened. The offended princess arose, we are told, and struck the impious King in the face.[237] Canute acknowledged his error and did penance. There may be some truth in the story so far as it relates to the King's hostility or incredulity, for Saint Edith was the sister of Canute's old enemy, King Ethelred.