Bells Cathedrals: The Cathedral Church of Exeter | Page 7

no wise to diminish,
and he kept up the Stapledon traditions of princely hospitality and
well-doing. His reputation of "grave, wise, and politick" seems to have
been fairly earned. As a descendant of the great ducal house of
Burgundy, he had lived much with princes and held the position of
nuncio "at the courts of all the mightiest princes of Christendom." His
election was carried out in direct opposition to the wishes of the canons
of Exeter, but a wise choice had been made, and by his long episcopate
of forty years he gained honour for himself and good fortune for his
people. He had to face many difficulties at first that might well have
appalled a weaker man. The tragic death of Stapledon had terrified all
men, the great work of that giant intellect remained unfinished, and
required some one of exceptional energy to complete it fitly. Added to
these difficulties, the episcopal manors had been plundered and the
accounts were terribly muddled. Grandisson, luckily, was a man who
looked upon difficulties as things to be overcome. He applied to the
members of his family for funds, and the negotiations are to his family
and subsequently to the diocese at large for funds. The negotiations are
interesting, for the borrower is the only person who maintained his
dignity unimpaired. With courteous pertinacity and a fitting show of
anger, he got the supplies he needed. With indomitable energy he
managed to arrange in perfect order the confused affairs of his diocese.
Turning eagerly to the task of completing the building of his church, he
transformed the six west bays of the nave, vaulting, aisles, west
window, and north cloister. In spiritual and temporal affairs he was
equally busy. Twice at least he was the host of royalty, once the Black
Prince visited his diocese with the captive king of France. The same
illustrious warrior, shortly before his death, again enjoyed the bishop's
hospitality.
In 1343 Grandisson was sent as ambassador to Rome, and the sound
sense he had shown at Exeter was equally apparent in the conduct of

his mission, so that it was written of him that "he did his message with
much wisdom and honour." Certainly, few bishops have had so exalted
a view of the dignity and importance of the episcopal office, and none
ever dared to fight more boldly for his imagined rights. When the
Archbishop Mepham determined to make a personal visitation,
Grandisson's anger was kindled. Gathering round him a body of armed
retainers, he met the archbishop at the north-west gate of the close.
There might have been a bloody conflict, for neither prelate was likely
to give way. Fortunately, sober counsels prevailed, and the quarrel was
referred to the pope. His holiness decided in Grandisson's favour, and
"the dispute did half break Mepham's heart, and the Pope, siding with
the Bishop of Exeter, did break the other half." So writes Fuller, and the
quaint sentence does not lack authority, for the archbishop died shortly
after the termination of the quarrel.
Grandisson remembered his cathedral in his will. He bequeathed to his
successors his crozier and mitre, and to the diocese 2,000 marks. At his
funeral, in accordance with his instructions, a hundred poor persons
were clothed and money was distributed among the prisoners and the
sick. He remembered, too, the needs of the poorer clergy and the
hospitals, while to Pope Urban and Edward III. he left splendid legacies.
His funeral, as his life, was simple and economical. For his magnificent
presents, his gorgeous works on the structure of his church, were made
possible by his own simple, almost parsimonious manner of living. He
was buried in the chapel of St. Radegunde, but the tomb was destroyed
in Elizabeth's time, and his ashes lie "no man knows where."
Brantyngham, the next bishop, completed the cloisters, the east window
and west front. But, as Canon Freeman has said, "the rest of the works
of this and the following century are little else than petty restorations;
of course in a later and inferior style, and generally to the detriment of
the building." But there is still much in the history of the church and the
see that deserves a passing notice. Under Brantyngham, the old feud
that Grandisson had finished so satisfactorily to himself, began again.
But the victory this time was with the archbishop. At Topsham, a
village not far from the city, the bishop's servants attacked savagely the
archbishop's mandatory. Full of zeal for the honour, as they conceived

it, of their own prelate, they made the wretched creature eat the
archbishop's writ and seal. But the meal of parchment and wax did not
by any means settle the dispute. The bishop's cause, indeed, was
irretrievably damaged, the king was furious, an appeal to the