Download PDF | (Studies in the History of Medieval Religion) David Marcombe - Leper Knights_ The Order of St Lazarus of Jerusalem in England, c.1150-1544-Boydell Press (2003).
345 Pages
Acknowledgements
It is sobering, and a little humbling, to sit down and write a set of acknowledgements for a book on this scale. Any author who may be seduced by delusions of grandeur at this stage should recall the words of the slave whispering in the ear of the successful general during the Roman Triumph — ‘you are but mortal’. Similarly with a book. Though an author takes the credit as the one who puts it all together, he is only as good as the numerous people who have offered help and support during the long hours of its compilation. It is appropriate that these individuals should be thanked and share in the pride rightly felt on the completion of a major undertaking such as this.
The first thing to say is that the book has been a collaborative venture and much of the information in it has been gathered together by what soon came to be known, quite informally, as the Burton Lazars Research Group. Remarkably, all those who were there at the start of our adventure in 1983 are still up and running at the finish — older, if not always wiser. The group comprises Mike and Jenny Allsop, Terry Bourne, Joe and Moira Ecob, and Judy Smithers, all residents of Melton Mowbray or the immediate vicinity. All of them have contributed enthusiastically to the end result. It would be invidious to pick out individuals in such a united and hard-working team, but I am sure the whole group would wish me say a special word of thanks to Terry, whose painstaking work on the charters (not least the Burton Lazars Cartulary) has been second to none.
Though these individuals formed the inner cabinet of what sometimes seemed like some new, undercover order of St Lazarus, they brought with them an outer ring of helpers who were invariably there to offer support when the need arose — Eddie Smithers with his computer skills and Valerie Bourne, always on hand with food and warm drinks! Indeed, working with the Burton Lazars Research Group has been a memorable experience of the sort one enjoys only once in a lifetime. Our scholarly efforts have been enhanced by all manner of social activities and above all we have functioned as a group of friends, a factor that has not only illuminated our academic discoveries but has also enhanced our lives as well. Our thanks to the University of Nottingham’s School of Continuing Education for quietly encouraging and supporting our work over such a long period — even though it never fitted into any category devised by educational bureaucrats or accountants. There, perhaps, lies another reason for its success.
Much of our landscape work has depended on access, and owners and occupiers of St Lazarus-related properties have been generous in allowing us to do just about what we wanted. Thanks are due to the late Captain Patrick Drury-Lowe (Locko Park), Major Peter Hutchinson (Choseley Manor), Colin McDowel (Harehope), and Jim Cooil (Tilton). Among the farmers of Burton Lazars, the Hawleys, Gills and Toulsons have all been accommodating, but a special word of thanks must go to Geoff Child who farms the land on which the preceptory itself is located. Our numerous visits to show around visitors, take photographs and undertake all manner of survey work have been greeted with the same tolerance and good humour. Geoff even doubled up as Burton Lazars churchwarden for some years and therefore had the additional, onerous duty of letting us into the church. We hope that the book answers all of the questions about his bumpy field that he is ever likely to ask!
When it came to analysing these varied historic landscapes, we received help from a number of specialists —- Dr Chris Salisbury (watercourses), Fred Hartley (earthworks), and Ann Borrill and Jean Nicholson (flora and fauna). Special thanks must go to Tony Brown of the University of Leicester and his Archaeology Certificate students (among whom were Mike and Jenny Allsop), who mapped the complex Burton Lazars earthworks in the 1980s. Mary Hatton, archaeological warden for Burton Lazars, ensured we had eyes and ears in the local community. Among other things, Mary was instrumental in the discovery of the Burton House stones in 2000, which we were able to record with the permission of Jim and Christine Greaves, at that time owners of the house.
The stones were moved, cleaned and recorded by a team of students from the University of Nottingham who all deserve a mention because of their hard work under difficult circumstances — Lesley Redgate, Richard Albery, Ted White, Janet Jackson, Sarah Seaton, Brian Jones, Diana Archer, Colin Pendleton, Margaret Smith, Brian Hodgkinson, Jan Davies, Trevor Lane, Sue Hadcock, Amanda Jennings, David Brown, Maggie Malkin, Dave Pollard, Shona Husband, Sandra Green, Tracey Wormald and Jenny Adams. If these people made up the much needed workforce, the experts who drew the conclusions were Dr Jenny Alexander and Bernard Martin. By their combined skills in archaeology and architecture the lost church of the Lazarites is coming to life once more.
In our quest for documents, the staffs of the various libraries, museums and record offices in which we have worked have been uniformly helpful and supportive. Academic colleagues and local enthusiasts have contributed details from their unpublished research or have assisted with awkward details. In this respect we would like to offer our thanks to the late Revd Philip Hunt, Dr Kenneth Baird, Dr Joan D’Arcy, Barry Alexander, Professor Mark Ormrod, Syd Lusted, Dr Alison McHardy, Dr Ted Connell, Dr Keith Manchester, Dr Charlotte Roberts, Pamela Willis and Julian Roberts. For assistance with details of translation our advisors have been Barbara Panton, Dr Nicholas Bennett, John Wade, Dr Mary Lucas and Irina Feichtl. We are most grateful to them all for the time they have put in on our behalf.
The book has been compiled by a range of people over a surprisingly long period of time, our earliest typescripts being produced more than a decade ago — before the age of the word processor. The following University of Nottingham secretaries helped in this ongoing process — Judy Matsell, the late Catherine Beeston, Margie D’Arcy and Sue Andrews. At some point Rita Poxon came to our rescue with a piece of technical wizardry that made pages of old-fashioned typescript compatible with a computer. Norman Fahy drew the earthwork plan of Man Mill, and all of the other maps and plans were put into publishable form by Dr Anne Tarver whose skill in these matters is a byword among cognoscenti. Likewise with Trevor Clayton, our photographer in chief. Though occasional examples of the work of others intrude on these pages, the vast majority of the photographs were taken by Trevor, whose patience and good humour were always exemplary.
A particular word of thanks to those people whose contribution has spilled over into more than one area. Sue Clayton has provided us with organisational skills, information, sandwiches and shadows. Dr Rafael Hyacinthe has been our link with the order of St Lazarus overseas, and we have enjoyed useful (and convivial) collaborative visits both in this country and in France. Raféael’s selfless sharing of information has filled many gaps — and we hope we have reciprocated sufficiently to provide similar support for his forthcoming book on the history of the order in Europe. Thanks to Rafael the entente cordiale once more flourishes! Kate Holland, like Sue, came into the project in the later stages, but has made a tremendous contribution just when it was needed most. She has assisted with research, taken over the preparation of the typescript, undertaken the picture editing, completed the index and proof-read the final version of the text.
This has been hugely time-consuming for someone already leading a frenetic life. Without her help and support the book could not have been completed in the time available. Neither could I have finished it without the tolerance of my partner, Ann. In a house where dining room and study are synonymous, mountains of paper have impeded normal social intercourse for the best part of a year. She will be relieved, at last, to be living with a human being, rather than a leper-obsessed zombie.
Finally, my thanks to the University of Nottingham for providing me with a period of study leave in 2001 to complete the book; to Boydell & Brewer for agreeing to publish it; and to Professor David Loades and Dr Carole Rawcliffe for reading parts of the typescript and offering many helpful and constructively critical comments. Most of these have been incorporated into the final version of the text, though I must emphasise that any surviving errors are my own. A most rewarding project has drawn to a close, not with the sudden death of the author, as occurred under similar circumstances in 1792, but with well-deserved thanks to an unusually long list of people. At last the story of the order of St Lazarus has been told — and I hope a wide readership will enjoy it.
David Marcombe Newark-upon-Trent 19 October 2001
Introduction
When our embryonic Research Group was first talking about compiling a history of the order of St Lazarus in England, I was at first highly sceptical. As a newly appointed lecturer at the University of Nottingham I was already leading a busy life and, logically, the last thing I wanted to become involved with was another project requiring a further input of time, energy and resources. However, on a damp and misty November morning in 1983 I was persuaded to make my first visit to see the earthworks at Burton Lazars, and after that fateful encounter there was no turning back. It was not so much the persuasiveness of my friends that won me over, as the spirit of the place — and after that first visit I freely admit to being hooked. My instincts told me, strongly, that this was a location that had something to offer, though what precisely that was was not at that point clear in any of our minds. The site seemed to be calling out for our involvement and attention, leading us into a dark tunnel from which there could be no escape.
Once we got started on the work of unravelling Burton Lazars we soon realised we were not the first to have initiated such enquiries. In 1674 the marquis de Louvois, Louis XIV’s minister of war and ‘grand vicar-general of Our Lady of Mount Carmel and St Lazarus of Jerusalem’, had dispatched an emissary to peruse records in the Tower of London and Westminster Abbey in the hope of uncovering something of the history of the Lazarites in England, but he appears to have returned to France disappointed. A little later, in the eighteenth century, Philip Burton, a lawyer and antiquarian, became preoccupied with the history of Burton Lazars and promised to give his assistance to John Gough Nichols, Leicestershire’s principal antiquary, who was writing a history of the county at about the same time. But, alas, fate intervened, and Burton was struck down, literally, while putting the finishing touches to his manuscript in 1792. ‘On the morning of the day on which he died . . . he rose, as was his usual custom, at six o'clock, and at five in the afternoon it pleased the Almighty to take him, while the pen was in his hand?!
The great work disappeared forever. It is impossible to know if Burton was in possession of material which has now perished — probably not very much, if the truth be known. The order of St Lazarus has never made a major impact on documentary sources, largely because of its exemption from many of the things that generally bring medieval religious orders to the attention of historians. But historians should not be dissuaded from their purpose by the lack of obvious pieces of paper and parchment . . . or by the untimely deaths of their progenitors. Indeed, the Burton Lazars project has proved that when a wide range of sources is tapped, documentary and archaeological, more information can be pulled together than might ever have seemed possible in the first instance.
If I had been drawn to Burton Lazars by some sense of genius loci, an eighteenth-century engraving, reproduced in some of the standard histories of the order, symbolised what many people still believed it stood for. It seemed a reasonable starting point for our research. In it a female personification of the order of St Lazarus stands guard over two prostrate figures, who look sick to the point of decrepitude. The skyline of Jerusalem is in the background, beyond a somewhat uninviting-looking sea. One of the paupers looks up imploringly, with a begging bowl near his outstretched left arm. The noble figure, which is the subject of his attentions, carries a sword in her right hand and a cross and rosary in her left. Her military credentials are further endorsed by her oval shield and the extravagantly plumed classical helmet she wears on her head, and to clarify her identity the insignia of the order hangs conspicuously from her neck. Though her pose is protective, she seems somewhat detached from the plight of the poor, sick people at her feet. This is because her eyes are fixed on higher things, specifically a heraldic achievement in the sky, the arms of Louis, duke of Berry, grand-master of the order (1757-73) and subsequently king of France (1774-92). To leave these royal associations in absolutely no doubt, the lilies of the French royal house shine forth from a sunburst still higher in the heavens, making the whole scene strangely reminiscent of the vision of Constantine or some such highly charged mystical moment.
The engraving makes three clear and basic points about the order as it perceived itself in the eighteenth century — it was noble, charitable and chivalrous — the same ‘valiant knighthood of St Lazarus of Jerusalem’ perhaps, that we soon began to encounter in the English medieval sources. Yet the more these documents were explored and the more we investigated those mysterious earthworks on site, the greater was our sense of doubt and confusion. Soon we began to wonder if the allegorical figure had feet of clay. The chapters that follow aim to explore the legend of St Lazarus in the context of what little has survived to elucidate its activities in medieval England. It is a story of myth and reality, and the sometimes uncomfortable relationship between the two.
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