I recently finished reading two science-fiction books set during the 1300s: Eifelheim by Michael Flynn and Doomsday Book by Connie Willis.
Although books are set in small villages during 1348, they differ drastically in their portrayal of the local clergy. In Eifelheim, the village priest is a highly literate man who was educated in Paris, corresponds with major philosophers, advises the baron on both religious and secular matters, and remains abreast of current events throughout Europe. In contrast, the village priest in Doomsday Book is a superstitious yokel who must memorize the Latin Mass by rote, because he is illiterate. He is beloved by the villagers, but the local nobles view him with disdain, and he is so ignorant of the wider world that he is unaware of the Black Death until it arrives in his village.
Of these two depictions, which is more accurate? Would a local priest have been a pillar of his community, knowledgeable and respected? Or would he be relatively ignorant, someone who was viewed with little respect by anyone except his parishioners? Or is the truth of the matter somewhere in between?
In short, these two were extreme stereotypes, and the reality must have been somewhere in the middle and differed across Latin Christendom, though the latter might have perhaps been a bit closer to the reality.
1: Source Bias: Stricter 'quality control' of the clergy in later half of Medieval West
'Canon 27 [of Lateran IV]: Since the direction of souls is the art of arts, we strictly command that bishops, either themselves or through other qualified men, diligently prepare and instruct those to be elevated to the priesthood in the divine offices and in the proper administration of the sacraments of the Church. If in the future they presume to ordain ignorant and unformed men (a defect that can easily be discovered), we decree that both those ordaining and those ordained be subject to severe punishment. In the ordination of priests especially, it is better to have a few good ministers than many who are no good, for if the blind lead the blind both will fall into the pit (Matt. 15:14)' (The translation is taken from Internet Sourcebook).
Historians since 1980s tend to see Lateran IV as a real turning point of [medieval] Christianity, from a view point of the church's more active involvement with the pastoral care of parish congregation. Facing mendicants as their new rivals to take care of the soul and salvation of the lay people, the secular clergies were then also expected to take this responsibility much more seriously than before, such as the lay peoples' obligation of annual confession to the priest (Canon 21) and regular preaching to the parishoners on Sunday.
As seen in Canon 27, it was incorporated in the bishop's (almost new) duty to ensure the quality control of the local clergy almost everywhere in Latin Christendom. On the other hand, the new norm is one thing, and how to implement this norm was another matter.
The following examples are from very different regions in the 13th and 14th century to implement such a reform.
The first text is taken from the life (saga) of Bishop Lárentíus Kálfsson of Hólar, northern Iceland (d. 1331), and the passages in question narrates the inspection of the local Icelandic clergy's Latin command on behalf of the Norwegian archbishop, allegedly conducted in about 1307 (long before his consecration to the bishop in 1324):
'After St. Thorlak's Day [Dec. 23], the visitors made their visitation, over the Southern and Western quarters [of Iceland] first. Reverend (Síra) Lárentíus looked hard after the performance of service by priests of small lore and knowledge; many of whom proved of light learning, and among them a priest called Eilífr in Gufudal in the Western quarter. At mass and lessons the visitors examined him, and the issue was that he knew hardly a thing in either of these matters.
Then Lárentíus said, "Let us examine him in the canticle Audite", and they did so; and he had no sure knowledge of how to read Audite.
Priest Eilífr said, "I can do nothing with it, if ye examine me in the hardest thing ye can find."
"Thou hast seldom read the feriales liturgiae", said Lárentíus, "that is easy to see."
The visitors took away from Priest Eilífr the mass and all the priest's service, until he should know it, or till he learnt enough to make him fit to officiate. There were also some more priests from whom they took, because of their ignorance, the right of saying mass' (Lárentíus saga, Chap. 19 (A), í: ÍF VII: 273-75. Translation is taken from the old English translation by Elton, with a little modification mainly on the spelling of proper names).
Poor Latin competence of Priest Eilífr here was certainly not the only case in whole the bishopric of southern Iceland (Skálholt), but clearly not the norm among the local clergy.
Without the examination of the visiting commissioners (either from the archbishop or the bishop) like Lárentíus, it would be not so likely that his poor Latin performance was revealed. Bishops (and archbishops as well ) in post-Lateran IV medieval Europe introduced such several new measure to examine the qualification of priests as caretakers of parishoners' soul. While Norwegian archbishop couldn't observe the requirement of regular visitation across oversea suffragan dioceses in person as stipulated in the canon law, he nevertheless sent visitators to the North Atlantic Isles to examine the local clergy there.
Concerning the parishes in medieval Scandinavia, the Norwegian provincial statute from the early 14th century stipulates that every priest had to have a liturgical handbook (manuale), and he was expected to bring it to the annual episcopal synod (yearly meeting of priests within individual bishoprics), together with the garment(s) of the clergy to be examined. If he lost them, he had to pay the fine in accordance with the number of lost items (Lysaker trans. 1991: 14; Nedkvitne 2001: 77).
I cite another example that the bishop took much heed to the literacy of newly ordained priest, from the register of Archbishop Eudes Rigard of Rouen (d. 1275). This archbishop indeed recorded his daily works as archbishops in 21 years, and one of such entries narrates the contents of the exam by Archbishop Eudes himself to the candidate to the church of Ancourt, named Guillaume de Vardes:
Davies notes the possibility that Eudes perhaps required a higher standard of literacy to his aspirant clergy than his colleagues (a least one case of Nicholas Quesnel in 1260 Eudes rejected the application due to his many mistakes in Latin conjugations), but generally speaking, it is difficult to calculate the 'admittance rate' of such candidates on Latin competence solely on the extant evidence.
Swanson also comments on this topic as following: 'The danger with these source is that, because complaints are expected, they are noticed: it is also notable that serious complaints are generally few. Only failings - alleged, not necessarily real fault - are reported; there are no appraisals of clerics who were doing their jobs properly' (Swanson 1994: 54).
2:Possible source of undisciplined reality
Then, would there little room to admit Poor Father Roche (as narrated in Novel Domesday book) in real 14th century England? In fact, there would be several contributing factors to make loopholes to make the illiterate person de facto care taker of souls across Europe?
First of all, the number and availability of universities had been quite limited (about a dozen in ca. 1300) before the Black Death. The foundation of the university of Prague just before the arrival of the Black Death paved the way to the proliferation of universities in German speaking area as well as Central Europe toward the end of the Middle Ages. In this regard, some scholars even say that English priests in fact had better change to get educated since England had Oxford and Cambridge, both founded in the early 13th century. On the other hand, other educational institutions were still also available across the 14th century Europe: Above-mentioned Lárentíus had taught Latin in three old-style monastic schools in Iceland before his consecration, and Lárentíus himself had studied abroad in the cathedral school of Trondheim, Norway. Mendicant orders and Cistercians founded their own higher education schools as well. It is also worth noting that not all the students completed their study with the degree - many medieval students also only temporary registered courses and left without degree. The job of local clergy (as well as teacher of some elementary educations) was open also to such not so traditional 'intellectuals' in Later Middle Ages, as Jacques Verger emphasizes (Verger 2000).
Second possibly contributing factor was - the Black Death itself. The direct demography casualty of the clergy in medieval England, based on the list of beneficed (see below) priests, one of few relatively reliable contemporary evidence, indeed amounts to ca. 45%, but many more survived priests left their local office not only due to the fear of further imminent deaths, but also due to the offered opportunity of better income. The plague robbed also of the economic foundation, or the possible source of income for parish clergy, and some bishops lamented the desertion of priests from the impoverished parish after the Black Death (Cf. Aberth ed. 2017: 86f. (no. 19)). Alternative job opportunity for such 'deserters' was ironically also created by the Black Death (at least to some extent): Late Medieval Europe saw the flourishment of confraternities, lay voluntary religious associations. Many of such confraternities had a private chapel (chantry), with a hired priest to offer services to the chapel as well as members of the confraternity. This kind of 'hired' priest was generally better off (well paid) than the usual parish priest, with considerable difference of economic resource from one parish to another. Thus, the bishop had greater difficulty in filling the vacancy with aspirant as well as capable candidates especially in the late 14th and the early 15th centuries - it would inevitably have led to some liftings of strict standards.
[Continued to Part II]