THE REFORMERS BEFORE THE REFORMATION. and after death sink into oblivion. The adage holds true of individuals only, but in such a way as to show that they are remembered for righ teousness' sake, because they are identified with the immutable and immortal cause of true religion. 163 And such, indeed, was Wicliffe. His whole life was spent in warfare with the friars, and the corruptions of which they were the emblems and abettors. Of his early days little can be said, except in the way of conjecture. All we know is, that he was born about the year 1324, at a village near Richmond, in Yorkshire, which some have named Spreswell, and others Wyc Who has not heard of John Wicliffe? and who, hearing the name, does not associate it with all that is venerable and holy? Five hun-liffe; that he was early sent to Oxford; and that dred years have elapsed since he flourished, and how few are the names that have survived with his! How vain would be the attempt now to revive the memory of his contemporaries-great as they were in their own day--such as Walter Burley, called the Plain Doctor; or William Occam, called the Singular Doctor; or Thomas Bradwardine, called the Profound Doctor! But who needs to be reminded of the existence of John Wicliffe, called the Evangelical Doctor? We have all heard, it is true, of Geoffrey Chaucer, his fellow-collegian, and of John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, his patron. But how shadowy, after all, is the remembrance! The father of English poetry was the author of certain rhymes, which are oftener spoken of than read, and the redoubted duke figured in certain brawls long ago forgotten. But Wicliffe stands out in bold relief from the age in which he lived -"the first discoverer and guide in our blessed Reformation;"-his name is as familiar to us as if he had been our own progenitor, and lived within our own times; it is identified with a living cause, and it will be coeval with Christianity. he distinguished himself there no less by the vivacity of his genius and the extent of his -philosophical acquirements, than by his close application to the study of Scripture. Many circumstances concurred to turn the attention of Wicliffe to the abuses of the Church, and contributed to the success of his subsequent exertions to reform them. The merely secular historian may speak of the dotage of Edward III., of the nonage of his successor Richard II., of the mutual enmity between John of Gaunt and the clergy, and of the exorbitant exactions of the popes, with other secondary causes, which were, no doubt, all arranged and overruled to prepare the way for the preacher; but, as honest Fuller remarks, "we must attribute the main to Divine Providence blessing the Gospel, and to the nature of truth itself, which, though for a time violently suppressed, will seasonably make its own free and clear passage into the world." Never, perhaps, had the Church sunk so deep in ignorance and corruption, or the clergy risen to such a pitch of arrogance, as at the time when Wicliffe appeared; but if circumstances were, in some respects, favourable We have been favoured lately with a genuine to his success, it must be remembered that there portrait of this Reformer, and it accords with were others equally unpropitious. If some of all our preconceived ideas of the man. That the nobility were incensed at the overbearing noble countenance, with its venerable beard, conduct of the clergy, the great mass of the looks out on us from the surrounding dark- people were disposed to take part with their ness of the times, and at the distance of five ghostly oppressors; and it may be mentioned, centuries, with all the vividness of a living as an illustration of the superstition and ignoreality. What benignity in that dark contem-rance of those times, that so much had the mendiplative eye! and yet, viewed in conjunction with that sharp aquiline nose, and that firm-set mouth, with its thin compressed lips, what energy, acuteness, and determination in the whole physiognomy! That is evidently not the man to be trifled with. There is a quiet, but bitter and biting sarcasm in that smile, which speaks of little mercy to the fooleries of superstition, and holds out no quarter to spiritual wickednesses in high places. We can easily conceive the expression which that face would assume when, emaciated but unsubdued by sickness, he was visited by a deputation of friars, who thought their enemy was dying, and would have had him recant what he had written against them; and when ordering his attendants to raise him on his bed, he glared at them with these words: “I shall not die, but live to declare again the wicked deeds of the friars !" cant friars insinuated themselves into the good graces of the people, that even rich men would, in their dying hours, send to beg an old cloak from them to be buried in, hoping that, thus disguised, Christ would take them for friars at the general resurrection, and admit them as such, without further question, into heaven. It was a quarrel between these mendicant friars and the University of Oxford that brought Wicliffe first into public notice. The particulars of this controversy it concerns us little to investigate at this time of day; it is enough to know that they led Wicliffe to denounce the whole system of monkery. He wrote against them with an ease and elegance unknown in that age, particularly in the English language, of which he is not unjustly considered among the first improvers. "Friars," he said in one of his numerous tracts, "friars draw children from Christ's religion into their private order, by hypocrisy, leasing, and stealing. For they tell that their order is more holy than any other; that they shall have higher degrees in the bliss of heaven than other men; and syne that men of their order shall never come to hell, but shall doom other men, with Christ, at doomsday." And again, falling on these "sturdy beggars" with a staff, which reminds us of that afterwards wielded against the same class by John Knox, he says, that "there were abundance of poor people in the world prior to the existence of the mendicant orders; that their numbers had increased, and were still increasing, while these indolent and impudent beggars, roaming from house to house, took advantage of the piety and simplicity of the people, and were snatching the morsel of charity from the famishing mouths of the aged and infirm; that their vows of poverty amounted to a declaration on their part that they were determined to lead a life of indolence and idleness, and whoever might be hungry, they should be fed at the expense of the community, and riot on the earnings of industrious poverty." The reputation which Wicliffe gained by opposing these miscreants, while it raised him to eminence, only exposed him the more to the shafts of malice. He was advanced, in 1361, to be master of Baliol College, and four years after was made warden of Canterbury Hall; but the monks did not rest till they had procured his ejection, and on his appealing to the pope, he was enjoined silence. Fortunately, however, the Court of Rome was now on the eve of a rupture with the English Parliament. Pope Urban had threatened to cite King Edward to his Court at Avignon, for having omitted to perform homage to him for the kingdoms of England and Ireland, and to pay him a tribute of seven hundred marks, which had been yielded through the pusillanimity of King John. The odious claim was strenuously opposed in Parliament, and a monk having attempted to defend it, Wicliffe triumphantly refuted him. This gained him favour at Court; he was made king's chaplain, and John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, taking him under his special patronage, procured for him the living of Lutterworth, in Leicestershire, which he held till his death. Before this, he had taken his degree as doctor in divinity, and he was elevated, in 1372, to the chair of theology in the University of Oxford. During this time, Wicliffe had not concealed his sentiments. In a tract on "The Last Age of the Church," published in 1356, he had freely inveighed against the vices of the clergy, and the usurpations of the pope; but now, as his eyes were gradually opened, by studying the Scriptures and the fathers, he began to strike at the root of the whole system. Though most of his writings were destroyed by the malice of his enemies, several of them are still extant in manuscript, from which it appears that he inculcated the lessons of inspiration on the fall of man, and the consequent depravity of human nature; on the excellence and perpetual obliga tion of the moral law (among the precepts of which we find him vindicating the sanctity and continued obligation of the Sabbath); on the exclusive dependence of every man, for the remission of his sins, on the atonement of Christ; and for the sanctification of his nature, on the grace of the Spirit. In his professorial lec-' tures, which were read with great applause, he exposed the fooleries of the friars, charged them with holding fifty heresies, and tore off the veil of pretended sanctity which concealed their licentious lives. In 1374, he was employed in an embassy which must have still further enlightened him as to the real character of the Romish Church. The pope had long been in the practice of disposing as he pleased of the dignities and benefices of the Church of England, a large proportion of which were be stowed on Italians and other foreigners, who had their revenues remitted abroad, to the great detriment of the nation. Parliament having frequently complained of this practice, the king issued a commission for taking a survey of all benefices in the hands of aliens; the result of which was astounding. The sum remitted to the pope was calculated to amount to five times the sum paid in taxes to the king. The Parliament, incensed at the discovery, brought in a bill, in which all the plagues, famine, and poverty, under which the nation groaned, were traced to the usurpations of Rome; and in which they bitterly remarked, that "when God gave his sheep to the pope, it was for the purpose of being fed, and not to be fleeced, far less to be flayed." Seven ambassadors were sent by the king to treat with the pope on this sore subject, and the second name on the list of these was that of Dr Wicliffe. These negotiations (which ended in a treaty only made to be broken) were conducted by the pope through his nuncio at Bruges. Though thus prevented from witnessing the corruptions of the Romish See at head-quarters, Wicliffe saw enough, during this negotiation, to confirm his impressions of the pride, avarice, and tyranny of the pope, whom he now boldly denounced as "that proud priest of Rome," "Antichrist," "the most accursed of clippers and pursekervers." Nor did he spare the corruptions which prevailed among the prelates, and inferior clergy, speaking of whom he exclaims : "O Lord! what token of meekness and forsaking of worldly riches is this! A prelate, as an abbot or prior, that is dead to the world and the pride and vanity thereof, to ride with fourscore horse, with harness of silver and gold, and to spend with earls and barons, and their poor tenants, thousands of marks and pounds, to maintain a false plea of the world, and forbear men of their rights!" We may easily conceive that such freedoms would expose him to the resentment of the men whose vices he had so severely lashed, and of the Church whose temporal interests he had THE REFORMERS BEFORE THE REFORMATION. 165 "The ventured to endanger. The monks complained horted him to keep up his spirits, and not to to the pope that Wicliffe had opposed his claim be daunted before the bishops, assuring him that to the homage and tribute of the English nation," they were all unlearned, as compared with and selecting nineteen articles from his public him." Arrived at the place of meeting, the lectures and sermons, as grossly heretical, for- crowd was so great that they had great diffiwarded them to "his Holiness." The conse- culty in making their way through; and Lord quence was, that Gregory XI. issued several Percy, availing himself of his authority as earl bulls against him, dated May 1377, and on the marshal, unceremoniously and loudly demanded force of these he was summoned to appear at a passage for his friend the Reformer. Never, St Paul's, to be examined before Simon Sudbury, perhaps, was culprit led to the bar in so great archbishop of Canterbury, and William Cour- state, or under such high auspices. The prelates tenay, bishop of London. It is interesting to were confounded, and Courtenay, the haughty observe, that the articles objected to him high-born bishop of London, rising in wrath, (omitting some which are clearly exaggerated cried out, "Lord Percy, if I had known beforeand garbled) include some of the leading hand what masteries you would have kept in doctrines afterwards more fully brought out at the church, I would have stopped you from the Reformation. They were such as the follow-coming hither." "He shall keep such masing: "That the eucharist, after consecration, was not the real body of Christ, but only an emblem or sign of it; that the Church of Rome was no more the head of the universal Church than any other Church, and that St Peter had no greater authority given him than the rest of the apostles; that the pope had no more jurisdiction than any other priest; that if the Church misbehaved, it was not only lawful, but meritorious, to dispossess her of her temporalities; that the Gospel was sufficient to direct a Christian in the conduct of his life; and that neither the pope nor any other prelate ought to have prisons for the punishing of offenders against the discipline of the Church, but that every person ought to be left at liberty in the conduct of his life." On the morning of Thursday the 19th of February 1376, a splendid convocation or synod was held in St Paul's Cathedral. The archbishop of Canterbury presided, assisted by the bishop of London, and around them sat the other archbishops and bishops, with the dukes and barons of England. An immense concourse of the people had assembled, attracted by the novelty of the spectacle, and the importance of the trial. Before this large and august assemblage Wicliffe was expected to compear, to answer the charges of heresy brought against him. Already the thunders of the Vatican had been heard at a distance, and the bolt of the Papal anathema was levelled at his devoted head. Suddenly the silence and gravity of the court were disturbed by a scene of noise and confusion, which baffles all description. The proud duke of Lancaster (whose passion against the clergy had been recently provoked very high, by one of them having attempted to prove that he was a supposititious child, and not the king's son), having heard that Wicliffe was to appear before the bishops, had determined that if he did so, he would not appear unattended. Selecting four bachelors of divinity to attend the Reformer in the character of advocates, he himself, along with Henry Percy, lord marshal of England, accompanied him with all due formality, to the assembly at St Paul's. On their way, the noblemen ex teries here,” replied Lancaster, with equal in- "Thou The bishop's father was Hugh Courtenay, earl of Devon shire. On a rising ground near the junction of the Musselburgh and Dalkeith Railways leading into Edinburgh, there stood, some years ago, a steam-engine house attached to a coal-pit on the farm of Whitehill Mains, called the High Pressure Pit. On the morning of Saturday the 9th of March 1839, a crowd of people were seen gathered round the mouth of this pit busily engaged, and all in a state of apparent anxiety and alarm. It turned out, that the night before, thirteen colliers, men, women, and children, had gone down for their ordinary work; but had not been long there when a loud and hollow rumbling noise was heard; the sides of the pit appeared to be giving way; and in a short while, first one and then another fearful shoot of earth, rubbish, and stones, from about midway, came thundering down. The mass fell to the bottom; the pit became choked up to within thirty fathoms of the surface; and the colliers above became aware that thirteen of their comrades, kinsfolk, and friends, were buried three hundred and sixty feet down in the bowels of the earth below. The alarm quickly spread over the country-side; and numbers came to the spot, animated with a desire to exert themselves to the uttermost for the deliverance of the imprisoned sufferers, who, it was believed, were still alive. The pit was old, and the workings below were extensive. There would, therefore, it was supposed, be a considerable temporary supply of air; and this possibly might be more or less renewed and supplied from a neighbouring pit, called the Back Dean Pit, which had been for a good while abandoned, but which was known to communicate with the other by a long narrow passage, or air-gate as it is called, of nearly a mile in length. One detachment of labourers forthwith descended, in order to set about clearing out the rubbish from the choked pit, and another went to the Back Dean, to establish, if possible, an underground communication between the two pits. These last speedily abandoned their purpose; for so foul was the air in the pit that no man descending from the upper air could breathe it. The others, who were clearing out the choked pit from above, were placed in unexpected difficulties, by the danger of new shoots, which now became apparent; and, therefore, measures were taken to construct a crib, or large wooden drum-like instrument, fitting closely to the shape of the pit, to be let down and lengthened as it descended, so as to fortify the sides of the pit, and make the descent of the workmen safe. By this time, the day being far advanced, the hope of the sufferers' safety had greatly diminished among the parties engaged at the pit mouth, and in some believed that the air below must now be too foul to cases had given place to despair, because it was sustain either light or life. But among the people of the coal villages there was more hope; and all agreed that, at any rate, it was the business of those on the surface of the earth to pray to God, and to wrestle with him for the preservation of those below. Accordingly, it is believed that in very many houses there, Bible reading and praise, and prayer, were much resorted to throughout the whole of that eventful day. The day rolled on, night came, and no appearance of deliverance came with it. Many speculations were afloat as to the condition of those below. Some pictured them dead in each other's arms; some hoped that more or less of their number might be yet spared, but more indulged in this expectation from a desire than from a belief that it might be so. All felt that every hour, as it passed along, shut up the door of hope more firmly against the buried. What, then, was the state of these prisoners themselves during this long period of alternate fear and hope, and exertion and suspense above? The ques tion shall be answered in the words of one of their own number, Peter Hay of Millerhill, a man whose character shall be left to be inferred from what he is now to be brought forward to relate of the adventures of that awful night and more awful day. His account was taken down in short-hand from his own lips soon after the date of the occurrence, by the editor of this tract, who desires to adhere to Peter's own words rather than garnish his tale with finer expressions; believing that the simplicity of nature, and the raciness of the primitive vernacular, will prove more effective than all the arts of rhetoric, or decorations of a purer dialect. Peter first gives an account of the falling in of the pit, and of the consternation which was thereby occasioned; and after stating that they had succeeded in opening the air-gate to the Back Dean Pit (already mentioned), by which they hoped to effect their escape, proceeds:- "This was glad news, and by this opening (a little one it was) we proceeded till we came to the water's edge. John Reid went to the chin in it. But the air became exceeding bad. It put out four or five of our lamps. It was necessary, therefore, to leave it. Those behind, were told to move back, taking good care of their lights; and we all returned to the High Pressure Pit bottom, and began again to work at the stuff there; and here we continued till the bad air extinguished every light we had at the pit bottom. Still, however, we had light out oure at the place we originally were working at, and that was some comfort to us. We called this our headquarters, for we always returned to it. "Well, the women were sitting here, for they did not engage in the clearing of the rubbish; the men only did that. Here we all gathered together, and this place became a kind of Bethel to us; for after we had sat down and become composed, John Nicholson proposed that prayer should be offered up, for they saw nothing but evidently death before them; and he fixed on me to pray. We placed ourselves all down in a composed manner, for I asked them all to be sedate; and so they were, you may believe. There were some among them who knew the Scriptures. Jamieson Bennett, in particular, showed Here again difficulties increased; for the enormous quantity of the rubbish, and the great depth of it, rendered its removal, in time to be beneficial to the prisoners below, almost hopeless. In such circumstances, however, to hope against hope, and to labour in the face of difficulties, or even supposed impossibilities, became duty... Light in Darknes; or, The Collier's Tale. Edited by great faith, and was full of the promises. Poor Janes Bridges, Esq. ..... Betsy Campbell was very composed too, but whiles THE COLLIER'S TALE. broke out into raptures, saying, 'she should never see her twa bairns mair!' "All, however, were quiet and composed, and we sung the first four verses of the 20th Psalm, and I prayed. 'Jehovah hear thee in the day When trouble he doth send, Thee from all ill defend,' &c. * We then sat and crackit a while, and afterwards sent a deputation to the Back Dean Pit, to see if there was any relief coming from that quarter, for we thought they might get down from above there and work their way towards us by the auld air-gate. But they returned and said they had gone as far as they could for the air, and hallooed and shouted to see if there was anybody coming, but they heard none, and it was concluded that we certainly must die, for we thought the High Pressure Pit was filled Ito the day-light, and hence that there was no hope. "A great deal of us were in highly low spirits at this time, because we saw nothing but death evidently before us. We fell a-cracking, however, and it was observed, that while there was life there was hope. Let us rejoice that we have a God that can hear and answer prayer wherever his people are; for though we are shut up in the bowels of the earth, yet he is able to hear us, and he can both hear us and deliver us. He is the same God yesterday, to-day, and for ever, without variableness or shadow of turning. Let us remember the wonderful deliverance he wrought for the Israelites, when, for their escape from the land of Egypt to Canaan, he opened a way for them in the Red Sea; and when there was nothing but insurmountable mountains on both hands, the roaring ocean before, and the enemy pursuing behind-when all refuge seemed to have failed them, and they thought, many of them, that nothing could deliver them, then it was that the very next thing they heard was the Lord speaking to Moses, and saying, Speak unto the people that they go forward.' Man's extremity is God's opportunity. Let us not despair. Let us resign ourselves entirely to his will and pleasure. Let us be putting ourselves in a posture fit for death, and, with the highest resignation, submit ourselves to whatever seems to him best for us. "Now, you must know, that by this time our lights were altogether gone out. The air was too bad to support them. So we were left quite in the dark; and I must tell you that this turned out, as you will see, a happy thing for us, though we liked it not at the time. "It was then observed, that though we should never behold each other in the face on this side of time, we hoped the next time we met would be in the light of the New Jerusalem, where the sun should never go down, nor the moon withdraw her shining. It was observed, 'No darkness now, no dismal night, "We then crackit in respect of our families. It was observed, that desperate as our case was, though they were above they were much to be pitied. And this made us think, that there should be more prayer and praise. So the 121st Psalm was sung: 167 which the next topic we conversed on was the three children in the fiery furnace. The power of that God was observed, who changed the element of fire, that it had no power on these three children when they believed and called on his name; and it was concluded, that if He was able to qualify the element of fire so that the smell of fire did not pass on them, and not so much as an hair of their head was singed, he was surely able to make a way of escape for us, dark as our case was. "Some of the company began then to think, indeed all of us did, that we had not lived lives corresponding to the light that we had enjoyed, with the light of the precious Gospel shining in its brightness amongst us. One of them said,Surely if I escape, it will become me to turn over a new leaf;' and every one seemed to feel his own deficiency, and his need of a Saviour. The girls at first cried for hunger; but the hunger wore off. Hunger never touched any of the older ones. We had plenty of water; and it was observed, that the Lord had once made water into wine, and if it was so ordered, he could make that water support us the same as if it was flesh. Let me indeed now say to you, this, after all, was the sweetest and shortest Saturday night I ever passed; and I dare say there never was a more solemn church than was that night at the pit-bottom in the heart of the earth." Peter, when they were getting weary, repeated a beautiful hymn on the glories of heaven, by which they were greatly refreshed; and during the whole night they prayed and sang praises, committing themselves to the Lord, so that, whether they died or lived, they might be His. We have not space for the insertion of their thoughts and conversations as related in the tract, although we have seldom read anything so intensely interesting—but (not doubting that our readers will purchase the tract for themselves) proceed to the account of their wonderful deliverance. The Lord heard their cry, and opened up a way for them to life. The honest collier thus proceeds:— "By this time we were beginning again to consider about making another trial, and seeing whether any relief was coming to us from above by the Dean Pit. Three, accordingly, were sent out-myself, Jamieson Bennett, and James Reid. I went first, till we came to the water's edge, and there we sat down and consulted; when it was agreed among us all that we thought the air was better, and, indeed, that it was tolerably good. We had no lights to prove it, but judged only from our breathing, and we were all of this opinion. We therefore agreed to return with the tidings, that there was no relief appearing from the Back Dean Pit, but that the air was better in the air-gate, and that we proposed to make a trial of it, if they all were agreeable. So we returned and told them. But they were refractory and unbelieving. One, indeed, said, he had made up his mind to die where he was, and if any of us escaped with life, we might give intimation to his friends where they would find his body. It was replied, that, to be sure, if we sat there, it was inevitable death; and here the story of the four lepers occurred to be spoken to. If they stood where they were, it was death; if they entered the city, it was still death; if they entered into the camp of the Assyrians, it was but death. We were bound to use every energy while we had breath, for rescuing our lives from destruction, and then to leave the event with God. To sit still there was little else than suicide. If we wished to die, it was our part to buy death at the |