LIBERTY OF INQUIRY AND OF PREACHING IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
(1532.)
There are writers who seriously ascribe the Reformation of England to
the divorce of Henry VIII., and thus silently pass over the Word of God
and the labors of the evangelical men who really founded protestant
Christianity in that country. As well forget that light proceeds from
the sun. But for the faith of such men as Bilney, Latimer, and Tyndale,
the Church of England, with its king, ministers of state, parliament,
bishops, cathedrals, liturgy, hierarchy, and ceremonies, would have been
a gallant bark, well supplied with masts, sails, and rigging, and manned
by able sailors; but acted on by no breath from heaven. The Church would
have stood still. It is in the humble members of the kingdom of God that
its real strength lies. ‘Those whom the Lord has exalted to high
estate,’ says Calvin, ‘most often fall back little by little, or are
ruined at one blow.’ England, with its wealth and grandeur, needed a
counter-poise: the living faith of the poor in spirit. If a people
attain a high degree of material prosperity; if they conquer by their
energy the powers of nature; if they compel industry to lavish its
stores on them; if they cover the seas with their ships, the more
distant countries with their colonies and marts, and fill their
warehouses and their dwellings with the produce of the whole earth, then
great dangers encompass them. Material things threaten to extinguish the
sacred fire in their bosoms; and unless the Holy Ghost raises up a
salutary opposition against such snares, that people, instead of acting
a moralizing and civilizing part, may turn out nothing better than a
huge noisy machine, fitted only to satisfy vulgar appetites. For a
nation to do justice to a high and glorious calling, it must have within
itself the life of faith, holiness of conscience, and the hope of
incorruptible riches. At this time there were men in England in whose
hearts God had kindled a holy flame, and who were to become the most
important instruments of its moral transformation.
[Sidenote: Lambert’s Examination.]
About the end of 1531, a young minister, John Nicholson, surnamed
Lambert, was on board one of the ships that traded between London and
Antwerp. He was chaplain to the English factory at the latter place,
well versed in the writings of Luther and other reformers, intimate with
Tyndale, and had preached the Gospel with power. Being accused of heresy
by a certain Barlow, he was seized, put in irons, and sent to London.
Alone in the ship, he retraced in his memory the principal events of his
life—how he had been converted at Cambridge by Bilney’s ministry; how,
mingling with the crowd around St. Paul’s Cross, he had heard the Bishop
of Rochester preach against the New Testament; and how, terrified by the
impiety of the priests, and burning with desire to gain the knowledge of
God, he had crossed the sea. When he reached England, he was taken to
Lambeth, where he underwent a preliminary examination. He was then taken
to Ottford, where the archbishop had a fine palace, and was left there
for some time in a miserable hole, almost without food. At last he was
brought before the archbishop, and called upon to reply to forty-five
different articles.
Lambert, during his residence on the Continent, had become thoroughly
imbued with the principles of the Reformation. He believed that it was
only by entire freedom of inquiry that men could be convinced of the
truth. But he had not wandered without a compass over the vast ocean of
human opinions: he had taken the Bible in his hand, believing firmly
that every doctrine found therein is true, and everything that
contradicts it is false. On the one hand he saw the ultramontane system
which opposes religious freedom, freedom of the press, and even freedom
of reading; on the other hand protestantism, which declares that every
man ought to be free to examine Scripture and submit to its teachings.
The archbishop, attended by his officers, having taken his seat in the
palace chapel, Lambert was brought in, and the examination began.
‘Have you read Luther’s books?’ asked the prelate.
‘Yes,’ replied Lambert, ‘and I thank God that ever I did so, for by them
hath God shown me, and a vast multitude of others also, such light as
the darkness cannot abide.’ Then testifying to the freedom of inquiry,
he added: ‘Luther desires above all things that his writings and the
writings of all his adversaries may be translated into all languages, to
the intent that all people may see and know what is said on each side,
whereby they may better judge what is the truth. And this is done not
only by hundreds and thousands, but by whole cities and countries, both
high and low. But (he continued) in England our prelates are so drowned
in voluptuous living that they have no leisure to study God’s Scripture;
they abhor it, no less than they abhor death, giving no other reason
than the tyrannical saying of Sardanapalus: _Sic volo, sic jubeo, sit
pro ratione voluntas_, So I will, so do I command, and let my will for
reason stand.’[181]
Lambert, wishing to make these matters intelligible to the people, said:
‘When you desire to buy cloth, you will not be satisfied with seeing one
merchant’s wares, but go from the first to the second, from the second
to the third, to find who has the best cloth. Will you be more remiss
about your soul’s health?... When you go a journey, not knowing
perfectly the way, you will inquire of one man after another; so ought
we likewise to seek about entering the kingdom of heaven. Chrysostom
himself teaches you this.[182]... Read the works not only of Luther, but
also of all others, be they ever so ill or good. No good law forbids it,
but only constitutions pharisaical.’
Warham, who was as much opposed then to the liberty of the press as the
popes are now, could see nothing but a boundless chaos in this freedom
of inquiry. ‘Images are sufficient,’ he said, ‘to keep Christ and His
saints in our remembrance.’ But Lambert exclaimed: ‘What have we to do
with senseless stones or wood carved by the hand of man? That Word which
came from the breast of Christ Himself showeth us perfectly His blessed
will.’[183]
Warham having questioned Lambert as to the number of his followers, he
answered: ‘A great multitude through all regions and realms of
Christendom think in like wise as I have showed. I ween the multitude
mounteth nigh unto the one half of Christendom.’[184] Lambert was taken
back to prison; but More having resigned the seals, and Warham dying,
this herald of liberty and truth saw his chains fall off. One day,
however, he was to die by fire, and, forgetting all controversy, to
exclaim in the midst of the flames: ‘Nothing but Jesus Christ.’
[Sidenote: Latimer’s Evangelical Courage.]
There was a minister of the Word in London who exasperated the friends
of Rome more than all the rest; this man was Latimer. The court of Henry
VIII., which was worldly, magnificent, fond of pleasures, intrigue, the
elegances of dress, furniture, banquets, and refinement of language and
manners, was not a favorable field for the Gospel. ‘It is very
difficult,’ said a reformer, ‘that costly trappings, solemn banquets,
the excesses of pride, a flood of pleasure and debauchery should not
bring many evils in their train.’ Thus the priests and courtiers could
not endure Latimer’s sermons. If Lambert was for freedom of inquiry, the
king’s chaplain was for freedom of preaching: his zeal sometimes touched
upon imprudence, and his biting wit, his extreme frankness, did not
spare his superiors. One day, some honest merchants, who hungered and
thirsted for the Word of God, begged him to come and preach in one of
the city churches. Thrice he refused, but yielded to their prayers at
last. The death of Bilney and of the other martyrs had wounded him
deeply. He knew that wild beasts, when they have once tasted blood,
thirst for more, and feared that these murders, these butcheries, would
only make his adversaries fiercer. He determined to lash the persecuting
prelates with his sarcasms. Having entered the pulpit, he preached from
these words in the epistle of the day: _Ye are not under the law, but
under grace_.[185] ‘What!’ he exclaimed, ‘St. Paul teaches Christians
that they are not under the law.... What does he mean?... No more law!
St. Paul invites Christians to break the law. Quick! inform against St.
Paul, seize him and take him before my Lord Bishop of London!... The
good apostle must be condemned to bear a fagot at St. Paul’s Cross. What
a goodly sight to see St. Paul with a fagot on his back, before my lord
in person seated on his episcopal throne!... But no! I am mistaken, his
lordship would not be satisfied with so little ... he would sooner burn
him.’[186]
This ironical language was to cost Latimer dear. To no purpose had he
spoken in one of those churches which, being dependencies of a
monastery, were not under episcopal jurisdiction: everybody about him
condemned him and embittered his life. The courtiers talked of his
sermons, shrugged their shoulders, pointed their fingers at him when he
approached them, and turned their backs on him. The favor of the king,
who had perhaps smiled at that burst of pulpit oratory, had some trouble
to protect him. The court became more intolerable to him every day, and
Latimer, withdrawing to his closet, gave vent to many a heavy sigh.
‘What tortures I endure!’ he said; ‘in what a world I live! Hatred ever
at work; factions fighting one against the other; folly and vanity
leading the dance; dissimulation, irreligion, debauchery, all the vices
stalking abroad in open day.... It is too much. If I were able to do
something ... but I have neither the talent nor the industry required to
fight against these monsters.... I am weary of the court.’
[Sidenote: Latimer Quits The Court.]
Latimer had recently been presented to the living of West Kington, in
the diocese of Salisbury. Wishing to uphold the liberty of the Christian
Church, and seeing that it existed no longer in London, he resolved to
try and find it elsewhere. ‘I am leaving,’ he said to one of his
friends: ‘I shall go and live in my parish.’—‘What is that you say?’,
exclaimed the other; ‘Cromwell, who is at the pinnacle of honors, and
has profound designs, intends to do great things for you.... If you
leave the court, you will be forgotten, and your rivals will rise to
your place.’—‘The only fortune I desire,’ said Latimer, ‘is to be
useful.’ He departed, turning his back on the episcopal crosier to which
his friend had alluded.
Latimer began to preach with zeal in Wiltshire, and not only in his own
parish, but in the parishes around him. His diligence was so great, his
preaching so mighty, says Foxe,[187] that his hearers must either
believe the doctrine he preached or rise against it. ‘Whosoever entereth
not into the fold by the door, which is Christ, be he priest, bishop, or
pope, is a robber,’ said he. ‘In the Church there are more thieves than
shepherds, and more goats than sheep.’[188] His hearers were astounded.
One of them (Dr. Sherwood) said to him: ‘What a sermon, or rather what a
satire! If we believe you, all the hemp in England would not be enough
to hang those thieves of bishops, priests, and curates.[189]... It is
all exaggeration, no doubt, but such exaggeration is rash, audacious,
and impious.’ The priests looked about for some valiant champion of
Rome, ready to fight with him the quarrel of the Church.
One day there rode into the village an old doctor, of strange aspect; he
wore no shirt, but was covered with a long gown that reached down to the
horse’s heels, ‘all bedirted like a slobber,’ says a chronicler.[190] He
took no care for the things of the body, in order that people should
believe he was the more given up to the contemplation of the interests
of the soul. He dismounted gravely from his horse, proclaimed his
intention of fasting, and began a series of long prayers. This person,
by name Hubberdin, the Don Quixote of Roman-catholicism, went wandering
all over the kingdom, extolling the pope at the expense of kings and
even of Jesus Christ, and declaiming against Luther, Zwingle, Tyndale,
and Latimer.
On a feast-day Hubberdin put on a clerical gown rather cleaner than the
one he generally wore, and went into the pulpit, where he undertook to
prove that the new doctrine came from the devil—which he demonstrated by
stories, fables, dreams, and amusing dialogues. He danced and hopped and
leaped about, and gesticulated, as if he were a stage-player, and his
sermon a sort of interlude.[191] His hearers were surprised and
diverted; Latimer was disgusted. ‘You lie,’ he said, ‘when you call the
faith of Scripture a new doctrine, unless you mean to say that it makes
new creatures of those who receive it.’
Hubberdin being unable to shut the mouth of the eloquent chaplain with
his mountebank tricks, the bishops and nobility of the neighborhood
resolved to denounce Latimer. A messenger handed him a writ, summoning
him to appear personally before the Bishop of London to answer touching
certain excesses and crimes committed by him.[192] Putting down the
paper which contained this threatening message, Latimer began to
reflect. His position was critical. He was at that time suffering from
the stone, with pains in the head and bowels. It was in the dead of
winter, and moreover he was alone at West Kington, with no friend to
advise him. Being of a generous and daring temperament, he rushed
hastily into the heat of the combat, but was easily dejected. ‘Jesu
mercy! what a world is this,’ he exclaimed, ‘that I shall be put to so
great labor and pains above my power for preaching of a poor simple
sermon! But we must needs suffer, and so enter into the kingdom of
Christ.’[193]
The terrible summons lay on the table. Latimer took it up and read it.
He was no longer the brilliant court-chaplain who charmed fashionable
congregations by his eloquence; he was a poor country minister, forsaken
by all. He was sorrowful. ‘I am surprised,’ he said, ‘that my lord of
London, who has so large a diocese in which he ought to preach the Word
in season and out of season,[194] should have leisure enough to come and
trouble me in my little parish ... wretched me, who am quite a stranger
to him.’ He appealed to his ordinary; but Bishop Stokesley did not
intend to let him go, and being as able as he was violent, he prayed the
archbishop, as primate of all England, to summon Latimer before his
court, and to commission himself (the Bishop of London) to examine him.
The chaplain’s friends were terrified, and entreated him to leave
England; but he began his journey to London.
[Sidenote: Attempt To Entrap Latimer.]
On the 29th of January, 1532, a court composed of bishops and doctors of
the canon law assembled, under the presidency of Primate Warham, in St.
Paul’s Cathedral. Latimer having appeared, the Bishop of London
presented him a paper, and ordered him to sign it. The reformer took the
paper and read it through. There were sixteen articles on belief in
purgatory, the invocation of saints, the merit of pilgrimages, and
lastly on the power of the keys which (said the document) belonged to
the bishops of Rome, ‘even should their lives be wicked,’[195] and other
such topics. Latimer returned the paper to Stokesley, saying: ‘I cannot
sign it.’ Three times in one week he had to appear before his judges,
and each time the same scene was repeated: both sides were inflexible.
The priests then changed their tactics: they began to tease and
embarrass Latimer with innumerable questions. As soon as one had
finished, another began with sophistry and plausibility, and
interminable subterfuges. Latimer tried to make his adversaries keep
within the circle from which they were straying, but they would not hear
him.
One day, as Latimer entered the hall, he noticed a change in the
arrangement of the furniture. There was a chimney, in which there had
been a fire before: on this day there was no fire, and the fireplace was
invisible. Some tapestry hung down over it, and the table round which
the judges sat was in the middle of the room. The accused was seated
between the table and the chimney. ‘Master Latimer,’ said an aged
bishop, whom he believed to be one of his friends, ‘pray speak a little
louder: I am hard of hearing, as you know.’ Latimer, surprised at this
remark, pricked up his ears, and fancied he heard in the fireplace the
noise of a pen upon paper.[196] ‘Ho, ho!’ thought he, ‘they have hidden
some one behind there to take down my answers.’ He replied cautiously to
captious questions, much to the embarrassment of the judges.
Latimer was disgusted, not only with the tricks of his enemies, but
still more with their ‘troublesome unquietness;’[197] because by keeping
him in London they obliged him to neglect his duties, and especially
because they made it a crime to preach the truth. The archbishop,
wishing to gain him over by marks of esteem and affection, invited him
to come and see him; but Latimer declined, being unwilling at any price
to renounce the freedom of the pulpit. The reformers of the sixteenth
century did not contend that all doctrines should be preached from the
same pulpit, but that evangelical truth should be freely preached
everywhere. ‘I have desired and still desire,’ wrote Latimer to the
archbishop, ‘that our people should learn the difference between the
doctrines which God has taught and those which proceed only from
ourselves. Go, said Jesus, and _teach all things_.... What things?...
_all things whatsoever I have commanded you_, and not _whatsoever you
think fit to preach_.[198] Let us all then make an effort to preach with
one voice the things of God. I have sought not my gain, but Christ’s
gain; not my glory, but God’s glory. And so long as I have a breath of
life remaining, I will continue to do so.’[199]
Thus spoke the bold preacher. It is by such unshakable fidelity that
great revolutions are accomplished.
[Sidenote: Latimer Excommunicated.]
As Latimer was deaf to all their persuasion, there was nothing to be
done but to threaten the stake. The charge was transferred to the
Convocation of Canterbury, and on the 15th of March, 1532, he appeared
before that body at Westminster. The fifteen articles were set before
him. ‘Master Latimer,’ said the archbishop,’the synod calls upon you to
sign these articles.’—‘I refuse,’ he answered.—All the bishops pressed
him earnestly. ‘I refuse absolutely,’ he answered a second time. Warham,
the friend of learning, could not make up his mind to condemn one of the
finest geniuses of England. ‘Have pity on yourself,’ he said. ‘A third
and last time we entreat you to sign these articles.’ Although Latimer
knew that a negative would probably consign him to the stake, he still
answered, ‘I refuse absolutely.’[200]
The patience of Convocation was now exhausted. ‘Heretic! obstinate
heretic!’ exclaimed the bishops. ‘We have heard it from his own mouth.
Let him be excommunicated.’ The sentence of excommunication was
pronounced, and Latimer was taken to the Lollards’ Tower.
Great was the agitation both in city and court. The creatures of the
priests were already singing in the streets songs with a burden like
this:
Wherefore it were pity thou shouldst die for cold.[201]
‘Ah!’ said Latimer in the Martyr’s Tower, ‘if they had asked me to
confess that I have been too prompt to use sarcasm, I should have been
ready to do so, for sin is a heavy load. O God! unto Thee I cry; wash me
in the blood of Jesus Christ.’ He looked for death, knowing well that
few left that tower except for the scaffold. ‘What is to be done?’ said
Warham and the bishops. Many of them would have handed the prisoner over
to the magistrate to do what was customary, but the rule of the papacy
was coming to an end in England, and Latimer was the king’s chaplain.
One dexterous prelate suggested a means of reconciling everything. ‘We
must obtain something from him, be it ever so little, and then report
everywhere that he has recanted.’
Some priests went to see the prisoner: ‘Will you not yield anything?’
they asked.—‘I have been too violent,’ said Latimer, ‘and I humble
myself accordingly.’—‘But will you not recognize the merit of
works?’—‘No!’—‘Prayers to the saints?’—‘No!’—‘Purgatory?’—‘No!’—‘The
power of the keys given to the pope?’—‘No! I tell you.’—A bright idea
occurred to one of the priests. Luther taught that it was not only
permitted, but praiseworthy, to have the crucifix and the images of the
saints, provided that it was merely to remind us of them and not to
invoke them. He had added, that the Reformation ought not to abolish
fast days, but to strive to make them realities.[202] Latimer declared
that he was of the same opinion.
The deputation hastened to carry this news to the bishops. The more
fanatical of them could not make up their minds to be satisfied with so
little. What! no purgatory, no virtue in the mass, no prayers to saints,
no power of the keys, no meritorious works! It was a signal defeat; but
the bishops knew that the king would not suffer the condemnation of his
chaplain. Convocation decided, after a long discussion that if Master
Latimer would sign the two articles, he should be absolved from the
sentence of excommunication. In fact, on the 10th of April the Church
withdrew the condemnation it had already pronounced.[203]
Footnote 181:
Foxe, _Acts_, v. pp. 184, 185.
Footnote 182:
Chrysostom, in opere imperfecto.
Footnote 183:
Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 203.
Footnote 184:
Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 225.
Footnote 185:
Romans, vi. 14.
Footnote 186:
Latimer, _Works_, ii. p. 326 (Parker Soc.).
Footnote 187:
Foxe, _Acts_, vii. p. 454.
Footnote 188:
‘Plures longe fures esse quam pastores.’—Foxe, _Acts_, vii. p. 479.
Footnote 189:
‘Quibus latronibus suffocandis ne Angliæ totius canavum sufficere
prædicabas.’—Ibid. p. 478.
Footnote 190:
Strype, i. p. 245.
Footnote 191:
Strype, i. p. 245.
Footnote 192:
‘Crimina seu excessus graves personaliter responsurus.’—Ibid. p. 455.
Footnote 193:
‘Oportet pati et sic intrare.’—Latimer, _Works_, ii. p. 351 (Parker
Soc.).
Footnote 194:
‘Tempestive, itempestive, privatim, publice.’—Ibid.
Footnote 195:
‘Etiam si male vivant.’—Latimer, _Works_, ii. p. 466 (Parker Soc.);
and Foxe, _Acts_, vii. p. 456.
Footnote 196:
‘I heard a pen walking in the chimney behind the cloth.’—Latimer,
_Sermons_, i. p. 294.
Footnote 197:
Foxe, _Acts_, vii. p. 455.
Footnote 198:
‘Non dicit omnia quæ vobis ipsis videntur prædicanda.’—Foxe, _Acts_,
iii. p. 747.
Footnote 199:
‘Donec respirare licebit, stare non desinam.’—Ibid.
Footnote 200:
‘Tertio requisitus ut subscriberet, recusavit.’—Wilkins, _Concilia_,
iii. p. 747.
Footnote 201:
Strype, _Records_, i. p. 180.
Footnote 202:
Luther, _Wieder die himmlischen Propheten_, and _Explication du 6me
chapitre de St. Mathieu_.
Footnote 203:
‘Fuit absolutus a sententia excommunicationis.’—Wilkins, _Concilia_,
iii. p. 747.