03.07. Chapter 07 - More about the "Poor Priests"

Chapter 07 More about the "Poor Priests"

It is interesting to trace further what the men of that day, whether friends or enemies, thought of Wycliffe’s "Poor Priests," and we will begin with our old acquaintance, the proud, fierce man," Courtney.

He had reached the lofty position of Archbishop, as we have seen, over the headless body of the murdered Sudbury. One of his first efforts to extinguish the new movement was to call a council at the Convent of the Blackfriars in London, which then stood where the offices of The Times newspaper stand to-day. So these great men assembled — eight bishops, twenty doctors, fifteen friars, and four monks — and their object was to put down the new opinions and prosecute all who were suspected of holding them, especially John Wycliffe. Here Wycliffe’s doctrines were examined and, of course, condemned by all present. But an event happened on the very day of the council meeting which completely destroyed the effect of the council’s decision. "About two o’clock that afternoon, while the Churchmen were sitting round the table at their pious work, a terrible earthquake took place which struck all with panic except the zealous Archbishop."

These things were not looked upon as accidents in those days, and the friends of Wycliffe loudly proclaimed that "their Master had been condemned by the bishops, but that the bishops had been condemned by God."

Courtney was not content with mere councils, however. King Richard II. was no statesman like his grandfather Edward III., and he foolishly allowed Rome more power than was good for either his kingdom, his people, or himself. Courtney saw his opportunity and had an Act passed, in spite of the opposition of the Commons, to make persecution legal. But Englishmen as a nation are not a bloodthirsty race. Torturing, maiming, and burning to ashes living men and women were strange sights to them, and sights at which the native character revolted. This policy of fiendish cruelty had its origin at Rome. For the century and a half it existed in our country, during which its tracks were marked by bigotry and blood, the councils, both of the Church and of the nation, were swayed by the agents of Rome. When the last popish King and humble servant of the Pope stole out of his palace and fled secretly, with no man pursuing him, then men began to breathe freely. They awoke, as it were, from a hideous nightmare and determined that as far as in them lay, they would take steps to prevent such chains ever again being riveted either on their own necks or on the necks of their children.

We may well be thankful for the liberty we enjoy to-day, and we should ever be thankful to the brave men and women who won that liberty for us. Many of them loved the Lord Jesus more than they loved their own lives. May we be as true to the truth we know as they were! So Courtney’s Act read that: "Sentence being duly pronounced, the Magistrate shall take into hand the persons so offending and any of their supporters and cause them openly to be burned in the sight of all the people, to the intent that this kind of punishment may be a terror unto others, that the like wicked doctrine . . . be no more maintained within this realm."

Courtney had triumphed for the moment, but his triumph was short-lived. The Commons returned to the matter next session. "Whatever was done," say they, "was done without our consent. Let it now be annulled, for it is not our intention to be tried for heresy or to bind over ourselves or our descendants to the priests more than our ancestors have been in the past."

There is a ring of sturdy independence about this deliverance which later Parliaments might have copied with profit. So the Commons rescinded Courtney’s Act, and not till 1401, in the reign of Henry IV., was the infamous "burning statute" passed. History will ever record it as a disgrace on the reign of a king whose father was a friend to the great Reformer. But Henry IV. had arrived at the throne by the defeat and murder of the rightful King and the help of the priests. To maintain his usurpation he had to bind himself to "support the Church." The priests were overjoyed. They seemed like bloodthirsty animals let loose, and for the next hundred years and more they literally revelled in the blood of the saints of God.

We may here look forward to an incident which illustrates the above remarks, and which shows both the savage cruelty of men calling themselves priests and the bigoted folly of a man calling himself a king. The event to which we refer took place in 1413. Henry V. was reigning. Sir John Oldcastle, who had been the King’s companion before he came to the throne, and one too who had fought bravely in the King’s service, had become obnoxious to the priests because he had embraced the reformed doctrines. The "fierce and cruel man" Courtney had died in 1396 and gone to his own place, and the "crafty Arundel" was now Archbishop. He had been banished as a traitor by Richard II., but made himself useful as a tool of the Duke of Lancaster who effected the revolution of 1399. The priest having helped the King, the King’s son will oblige the priest. Sir John was arrested and lodged in the Tower. His good confession is worth recording, but first the King in person will try to induce him to abjure his faith. To the King he said, "I am, as I have always been, most willing to obey your majesty, as the minister of God appointed to bear the sword of justice for the punishment of evildoers, and the protection of them that do well. . . . But as to the Pope and the spiritual dominion which he claims, I owe him no service that I know of, nor will I pay him any, for as sure as God’s Word is true, to me it is fully evident that he is the great Antichrist and son of perdition."

Before the priests his words were of no uncertain sound. He declared in plain language his denial of Transubstantiation, the idolatry of image worship, and the folly of pilgrimages. Then turning to the people, he cried, "Look, good people, for the breaking of God’s law these men never cursed me, but for the sake of their own law and tradition most cruelly do they use both me and other men."

Such opinions Rome could only meet in one way. When reason failed, force might succeed. He was condemned, but escaped from the Tower. Four years afterwards he was recaptured and the original sentence carried out. He was hanged (as a traitor) over a slow fire, in order that he might at the same time be burned as a heretic. Truly the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.