But I can fynde in a felde or in a fourlonge [furrow] an hare,
Better than in beatus vir or in beati omnes
Construe oon clause wel and kenne it to my parochienes.
I can holde lovedays and here a reve’s rekenynge,
Ac in canoun ne in decretales I can nought rede a line.”
Many other things point to the scandalous lives of the religious. Thus, the Bishop of Lincoln—not London,—in the reign of Henry III., visiting the religious houses in his diocese, searched the bedrooms and the beds of the monks and friars, and caused examination of the closest possible kind to be made in the nunneries. This would hardly be done without grave suspicions and reports.
Another crying scandal in the Church was the appointment of foreigners to high offices and benefices.
In the year 1245 an inventory was compiled of all benefices held by foreigners and appointed by the Pope. It was found that the sum of 60,000 marks was annually paid to these foreigners. This means almost a million of our money. The bitterness that this caused was so strong that in many parts the people refused to pay their tithe or their dues. There are other indications of hostility to the pretensions of the Pope. A certain Carthusian of London was brought before the Legate for teaching that Gregory was not the true Pope. The monks of Durham refused to obey the Papal ordinance, which commanded every one who was appointed as Abbot to proceed to Rome, there to receive the Pope’s blessing. And the Archbishop of York, refusing to bestow the revenues of his diocese on Italians and foreigners, was cursed by the Pope with bell, book, and candle. This resistance, however, was before its time; it was, in fact, two hundred years too soon.
In the year 1222 we hear of certain cases of cruel death inflicted for religious reasons. They did not occur in London, but at Oxford. A man was brought before the Council at that City charged with personating Christ Himself—Holinshed says two, but Matthew of Westminster says one, and it is impossible that two persons should both at the same time pretend to be Christ. The impostor showed the stigmata upon his hands and feet and in his side: he is said to have preached against the abuses of the ecclesiastics. Indeed, there was never any time when these abuses were more flagrant than in the reign of Henry the Third. The man was clearly an enthusiast, one who had gradually become mad with religious fervour, until he actually persuaded himself that he was the Christ whose religion he tried to preach. The other was the enthusiast’s follower and disciple. With them were two women,—when was there ever enthusiast without a pious woman at his side? One of these poor creatures had been assured by the leader that she was the Virgin Mary, and the other that she was Mary Magdalene. Both of them, of course, firmly believed the assurance. The whole four were tried, the leader was actually crucified, in mockery of his pretensions, and the women were “condemned,” most likely, to be burned.