John Wycliff, last of the schoolmen and first of the English reformers/Chapter 9
CHAPTER IX.
PERSECUTION.
ROM Courtenay, it is evident, Wyclif would have little to expect save a stern and uncompromising opposition. The young aristocrat from the West of England, ever conscious of the royal blood in his veins, the haughty prelate whose proud bearing and intellectual vigour overawed bishops old enough to be his father, found little in common with the simple gentleman's son from the North. Courtenay has been described as a patriotic and anti-papal Englishman, and so no doubt in a sense he was. But his qualified hostility to the papal assumptions is not to be compared with the vehement antagonism of Wyclif in his later years. Courtenay, as we have seen, was ready enough to accept the mandate of Rome where it did not imply the humiliation or impoverishment of the English Church. Wyclif would make no terms with the Papacy, which for him was (at its worst) antichrist and anathema. Both were staunch to a lofty ideal of the national Church of England; but they differed enormously in the model which they set up—differed by a space as wide as that which separates the barefooted apostle from the purple-clad prince of a dominant church.
Express complaints against Wyclifs teaching had reached the bishops, as well as the Papal Court at Avignon, soon after the Conference of Bruges. Of course it is not meant to imply that the bold doctrines of the Oxford Schoolman and lecturer in divinity were generally held to be sound up to 1376, and were recognised as heretical afterwards. His accusers were ready enough at the last-named date with a score of faulty instances, gleaned from his writings, sermons, and university lectures during the preceding years. No one becomes suddenly or accidentally a heretic; and the Oxford friars, who certainly hated Wyclif since 1366, if not earlier, had been taking notes of his teaching in anticipation of a day when they might find an orthodox corrector of his heresies. And they found such a corrector in the Chancellor whom they had attempted to hale to Rome, and whose authority they had defied.
Wyclifs heterodoxy, we cannot doubt, was an old affair—perhaps as old as his first association with John of Gaunt. But the actual persecution of "the Evangelical Doctor" began after the papal nuncios at Bruges had had an opportunity of hearing his incisive arguments, after the friars had found a willing listener in Courtenay, and after the Duke of Lancaster had begun to stumble in his ambitious course. When the Reformer may be said in fighting phrase to have thrown away his scabbard, or at what particular moment the Pope and the Sacred College determined to crush their formidable enemy, it would be difficult to say.
The bulls which arrived in England in November, 1377, demanding that proceedings should be taken against Wyclif, were dated May 22d of the same year. The charges on which they were ostensibly based had reached Avignon from England before the close of 1376. It is in every way probable that this first open breach between Wyclif and the authorities of the Church was brought about by the initiative of the friars before June, 1376, whilst John of Gaunt was not a member of the King's Council. The temporary eclipse of the powerful Duke would naturally seem to afford a good opportunity for moving against the heretic whom he had protected. The death of the Prince of Wales, and the renewal of his brother's influence, would be quite enough to make the astute Pope withhold his bulls for a time. It was clearly hopeless to move against a friend of the Duke's and to hazard a new decretal amongst these wrong-headed and contemptuous English, at a crisis when holy bishops like Wykeham and Courtenay were stripped of their honours and goods, or made to eat their words in public for the very offence of publishing a papal bull.
Before long the Pope would hear of the famous Convocation in 1377. He would learn how that splendid champion of the Church, William Courtenay, rising in dignity amongst his peers, and even rebuking the weaker Primate to his face, had made a scathing speech against the formidable Duke, and had refused in the name of the Church to grant a single penny for the King's necessities until the wrongs of the disgraced Wykeham should be redressed. Here evidently was a man who dared to withstand the outrageous John of Gaunt; and the same month of February was not to pass away without giving Gregory another proof that the tide was beginning to turn in England, and that the star of Courtenay was in the ascendant. The Pope had himself been Archdeacon of Canterbury, and may have known something of English feeling—though the facts do not go far to warrant such a conclusion.
It is necessary to keep the order of events precisely fixed in our minds, for confusion has arisen amongst some of the earlier biographers of Wyclif in respect of the proceedings taken against him by Courtenay. Wyclif was cited by Courtenay to appear before him at St. Paul's—or perhaps before Convocation—in February, 1377, at the time when the annual parliament of the clergy was assembled in London. Clearly this had nothing to do with Gregory's bulls, which were not signed until the following May. The citation need not have been issued many days before it was returnable, on the 19th of February, but it may well have been conceived and prepared weeks or months before. It was Courtenay's act, and apparently Courtenay's alone; for the citation was to 
OLD ST. PAUL'S.—EXTERIOR.
FROM DUGDALE'S "HISTORY OF ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL."
the Lady Chapel of old St. Paul's, and he presided in person over the inquiry. Is it possible to dissociate it from the bold act which procured Wykeham's restoration? Must we not take the two acts together as Courtenay's retort for his treatment after the Florentine riot or at any rate as a challenge to John of Gaunt on behalf of the rulers of the Church?
It is probable enough that Wyclif's militant spirit led him to anticipate with a certain keen satisfaction the opportunity of fighting out so noble a cause with an antagonist so worthy of his steel. He could not foresee that his own friends would make anything like a connected argument impossible, even if his enemies had been willing to hear him.
But the Duke of Lancaster seems to have made up his mind beforehand that Courtenay was acting in excess of his jurisdiction—and it is certainly not quite clear what the jurisdiction was. Courtenay was not Wyclif's diocesan; but the latter had preached for many years in the diocese of London, and the Bishop's authority was doubtless sufficient to prevent him from doing so again, if on inquiry he found that the King's chaplain was in the habit of preaching rank heresy. For anything beyond this it would seem that Courtenay would need authorisation from the Pope or the Archbishop. There is no evidence of a bull up to this point, and it is extremely improbable that the proceedings were taken on the authority of Sudbury, who was not heroic enough in his mood to break with and defy the Duke of Lancaster. We can only suppose that Courtenay's position in the matter was a weak one, and that the Duke felt himself safe in overbearing him with a manifestation of physical force. He would naturally have no confidence in the fairness of the tribunal which Courtenay had set up, apparently for the sole purpose of silencing his clerical ally. And what would the people say, his friends as well as his enemies, if he suffered this priest to get the better of him after such a palpable defiance?
Thus, when the Reformer put in an appearance at St. Paul's on the 19th of February, he was accompanied by John of Gaunt and by a posse of armed men under Lord Percy of Alnwick, afterwards first Earl of Northumberland, who had recently been appointed Marshal of England. Lancaster also brought with him, according to one account, four mendicant friars, perhaps by way of a moral counterpoise to the friars who had notoriously been egging on the Bishop and the Pope to take action against the English Doctor. The arrival of this party in the crowded cathedral created a great disturbance, and Courtenay came forward and reproved them, saying grimly that if he had known they would behave in that fashion he would have taken care that the Marshal and his men should not have entered. The Duke was quite ready for his cousin, and declared that he would exercise his authority there whether the Bishop liked it or no. Then they entered the Lady Chapel, and found, according to the account in the Chronicon Angliæ, not only bishops but also a number of barons. It is possible that all except Courtenay were assembled as mere spectators of what promised to be an inter
INTERIOR OF OLD ST. PAUL'S, LOOKING EAST.
DUGDALE.
esting and exciting case. The barons are mentioned in association with the Duke, and they may have come in Lancaster's train from Westminster.
Before the inquiry could be opened Lord Percy did what he may have considered humane and natural under the circumstances. Wyclif was very properly standing, out of respect for his ecclesiastical superiors, and Percy bade him take a seat. "As he will have many things to answer," said the Marshal, "he should have a more comfortable seat." But the Bishop flatly said that he should not sit there at all. "It is against reason and against the practice of courts," he said, "that he should sit, for he has come on a summons, to answer for himself before his ordinary, and in respect of charges which have been brought against him. For the time of his answer, and so long as his case is being tried, it is right that he should stand where he is."
Thus at the outset a dispute arose between Percy and the Bishop, with many hard words on both sides, and the whole assembly was thrown into confusion. The Duke then began to argue with the Bishop, and Courtenay did his best to let John of Gaunt have tit for tat. Lancaster, says the chronicler, was ashamed of himself because he could not talk the Bishop down; so he began to threaten, and swore that he would humble not his pride only but that of all the bishops in England.
"You trust too much in your father and mother," he said, "but they will not be able to help you. They will have enough to do to look after themselves."
"I do not rely on my parents," said Courtenay, "any more than on yourself, or on any mortal man, but I rely on my God, who deserts none that put their trust in him."
"I would rather take him by the hair," the Duke said in an audible aside, "and drag him out of the church, than put up with such talk from him."
The bystanders were enraged to hear the Bishop insulted in his own cathedral. They not only broke into the wordy contest, but apparently made it plain that they were ready to pass from words to deeds. We are not told whether the city guard were present, inside or outside the cathedral; but it is quite possible that they were, and that both the King's son and the Marshal were a little overawed by the strength arrayed against them. At any rate the wrangle was so fierce that Courtenay found it necessary to dismiss the assembly; and thus the "lying glutton," as the St. Alban's monk piously calls Wyclif "Doctor Wicked-believe" was another and a more ingenious name for him—escaped censure for the time.
That day and the day which succeeded it were momentous in the records of the city of London, as well as in the lives of Wyclif, Lancaster, and Courtenay. Parliament had met at Westminster in the afternoon, an hour or two before the assembly at St. Paul's, with the Duke of Lancaster presiding. Thomas of Woodstock, afterwards Duke of Gloucester, the King's fifth son, was present, with Lord Percy and the friends of the princes. Apparently there had been a rally of King's friends, by way 
OLD ST. PAUL'S CHAPTER HOUSE.
DUGDALE.
of outflanking the Bishop and the Corporation of London. A string of requests or "petitions" was made in the King's name, amongst which the most important were that the city guard should in future be in command of a captain instead of a mayor ("major"), and that the Marshal of England should have power to arrest within the walls as he had outside—the object being to deprive the Londoners of some of their privileges, and to clip their growing wings. But it happened that one of the most honourable citizens, John Philipot, recently appointed a parliamentary treasurer and auditor-general, in association with Walworth, was in the House, and he entered a vigorous protest against the action of the Court party. He spoke with so much force that the meeting is said to have broken up in confusion—probably not before the majority had agreed to all the propositions. Woodstock and Percy maintained that this had been done, and the Marshal seems to have lost no time in exercising his new authority.
Next day there was a hastily summoned meeting of the City Council, with the aldermen and possibly the mayor in attendance, which discussed the attack made upon their privileges, and considered how it might be repelled. Whilst they were debating, two citizens of superior rank, Lords Fitzwalter and Guy de Brian, made their way into the meeting. They were allowed to remain on condition that they took an oath of loyalty to the Corporation, which they willingly did; and then Fitzwalter made an inflammatory speech, informing the Council that the Marshal had already arrested and imprisoned one of their fellow-citizens. The Londoners had been at white heat since the previous afternoon, and now they could be restrained no longer. They rushed out, armed or unarmed, and, gathering volume as they went, made straight for Lord Percy's. The Marshal had fled, but the crowd released the prisoner and sacked the house. From thence they marched upon the Savoy; and Lancaster's palace, rich with the spoils of France and Castile, had a very narrow escape.
Percy had fled to the Duke, and the two together were said to have crossed the river and appealed to the Princess of Wales at her palace in Kennington. There are two or three versions of the manner in which Lancaster escaped the vengeance of the mob; but it is clear that the Princess befriended him at this crisis, and made terms between him and the enraged citizens. The latter are reported to have demanded a fair trial for the Bishop of Winchester and Peter de la Mare. Probably it was only the leaders of the mob who made these stipulations, and not the city authorities.
We know more than enough of the Duke of Lancaster to account for the bitterness displayed against him at this period of his life. The disasters with which the decade had begun, the not very honourable peace concluded with France and Castile at Bruges, his repeated attacks on the bishops and on the city, his close relations with the most corrupt persons about the Court, his apparent rivalry with the popular Prince of Wales, his opposition to the Good Parliament, his unscrupulous packing of the 
MONUMENT OF JOHN, DUKE OF LANCASTER, AND OF HIS WIFE CONSTANCE, IN OLD ST. PAUL'S.
DUGDALE.
Parliament of 1377, have been mentioned already. He had made so many enemies by this time that the more ignorant as well as the more unscrupulous amongst them either believed or pretended to believe that he had profited by the embezzlements of men like Lyons, and that, instead of being a legitimate prince, he had been palmed upon Edward III. by Queen Philippa. It is not surprising that, when his eldest brother died, he should have been thought capable of harbouring a design to get rid of his nephew Richard, and to secure the throne for himself. The insult to Courtenay would scarcely have moved the citizens so deeply if their prejudice had not already been raised by such facts and suspicions as these.
Walter Savage Landor, with the insight of genius, has imagined a conversation, occurring on the day of the riot, between John of Gaunt and Joanna of Kent, his cousin in blood, and the widowed mother of Richard. He represents the Princess of Wales as coming to rescue him in the Savoy palace, and standing with him at a window, looking down on the surging mob beneath. "How is this, my cousin," she says, "that you are besieged in your own house, by the citizens of London? I thought you were their idol." To which he answers: "If their idol, madam, I am one which they may tread on as they list when down; but which, by my soul and knighthood! the ten best battle-axes among them shall find it hard work to unshrine." He suspects that she has come with her guard to arrest him; but they are reconciled by a reference to the dead Prince, and Joanna says to him: "Cousin, you loved your brother. Love, then, what was dearer to him than his life: protect what he, valiant as you have seen him, cannot! The father, who foiled so many, hath left no enemies; the innocent child, who can injure no one, finds them!" She speaks to the angry citizens and deftly turns their anger. "Let none ever tell me again he is the enemy of my son . . . your darling child, Richard. Are your fears more lively than a poor weak female's? than a mother's? yours, whom he hath so often led to victory, and praised to his father, naming each—he, John of Gaunt, the defender of the helpless, the comforter of the desolate, the rallying signal of the desperately brave!" She stands surety for his loyalty and allegiance, and the fickle mob cheer the Duke as well as herself.
The scene is imaginary; but it is an imagination which will scarcely lead us far astray. John of Gaunt had very possibly brought more odium upon himself than his acts deserved. He was faithful to his sister-in-law and loyal to his nephew, whom, if he had lived but a few months longer, he would have succeeded on the throne.
Reasons have been assigned for thinking that the abortive failure of the St. Paul's inquiry, and the evidence which it gave of Courtenay's ability to hold his own, were amongst the motives which led the Pope to take action against Wyclif in the spring of 1377. But, between the signing of the bulls and their formal delivery in England, Edward III. had brought his glorious reign to its shameful end; and the appeal which Gregory had framed for the veteran King had to be re-directed to his grandson. Gregory himself did not live long enough to see the issue of his attack on the strongest living enemy of Rome; but he must have died in full confidence that the thunders of the Church would eventually strike down this impious English heretic.
Richard II. came to the throne on June 21st. His first Council included Courtenay, with the Bishops of Carlisle and Salisbury, the Earl of March, Lord Stafford, Sir John Stafford, Sir Henry Scrope, Sir John Devereux, and Sir Hugh Segrave. It was a "clerical" ministry, independent of, if not opposed to, John of Gaunt—though Walsingham says that it was selected with his "connivance." Courtenay does not appear to have taken any active part in the government of the country. Indeed we find him flatly declining to obey the Council, having fallen into another desperate quarrel with Lancaster, and publicly excommunicated his friends and instruments for a gross violation of sanctuary—to which Wyclif himself refers as "a horrible crime." His refusal to abstain from the repeated publication of the sentence, when called upon to do so by the Council, was the best thing which he could possibly have done for the Duke. From that time forward Lancaster seems to have steadily regained his influence; and he gradually assumed the lead of the new Court party.
The first Parliament of this reign met at Gloucester on October 13th, and one of its earliest duties was to consider whether payment of Peter's pence should continue to be made to the Pope. The question was referred to Wyclif, as a similar question had been referred to him eleven years before; and the answer which he gave was perhaps more significant than some of his biographers have led us to suppose. As a matter of fact, the King's chaplain gave two answers in the same treatise—first, the answer of a logical and independent mind, and then the answer of prudence and expediency. He was asked "whether the realm of England may legitimately, under urgent necessity of self-defence, prevent the resources of the kingdom from being carried away to foreigners, even though the Pope demand it under pain of censure, and by a strict appeal to our obedience."
Wyclif begins by declaring that he must leave it to trained lawyers to say what should be done according to the canon law, the law of England, and the civil law, and undertakes to argue the matter out according to the law of Christ. The realm, he says, is quite entitled to keep its property, first as a mode of self-preservation, and next because the payments to Rome originated as alms and charity, and they are no longer required as such, whereas the Bible and the Fathers teach us that charity begins at home. Again we are bound by the law of conscience—and especially the rulers of the country are so bound—to think of our own country first, and not to impoverish it. In regard to Peter's pence especially, pious founders left their benefactions for the Church of England alone, that the clergy might live thereby, and give the rest in alms. Before allowing any of this wealth to leave the country, our rulers should take immediate steps to check the abuse, moved thereto by thinking of the souls of the departed, of their own responsibility, and of the safety of the realm. All the world would laugh at our "asinine folly" if we who dared to invade other countries for secular causes were afraid of holding back trust-funds in the name of God from unworthy claimants. The laws of nature, of Scripture, of conscience, bid us boldly say No to the Pope.
What then (Wyclif goes on to consider) would the Pope do if we refused this money? Assume that he would excommunicate the whole realm, put us under an interdict, declare our goods forfeit, as he did to the Florentines, raise a crusade against us, stamp us with the mark of schismatics, as Rome has done for the Greeks. But only an unworthy affection could be disturbed by the withdrawal of such charity as this. The Holy Father, seeing on one side how the Turk grows stronger and stronger in Europe (for reasons best known to God), and seeing on the other that the realm of England is conspicuous for its piety, would not create so grave a scandal through mere greed of temporalities. And even if some disciple of Anti-christ should break out into such madness, it is a consolation to think that censures of this kind are not binding in the sight of God. The limit of what Christians should give to the Pope is what his office demands; but people have been taught to confound the office with the pomp surrounding it.
On the other hand, it has been argued that if we kept this money in England, it would be a cause of wantonness, lubricity, and avarice. If so, then let us reduce the gifts of our benefactors to their former modest level, and devote the overplus to restore the true peace of the Church. Another danger would exist in the lack of perseverance which distinguishes Englishmen. (Impossible not to see in this phrase a touch of the disillusion which politics had already produced in Wyclif's mind!) "So far as this danger is concerned, there is nothing for it but to strengthen the whole nation in unanimous firmness, before the thing can be attempted. . . . I do not see how we could attempt to do this, unless the common consent of the whole people were obtained for it. . . . It would be rash for a private individual to give this advice, since a matter of such a kind ought to proceed from the agreement of the realm as a whole. . . . It would behove us therefore to use great forethought, and to have a unanimous Parliament, before the nation begins to carry such a work into effect, lest personal influence or private advantage should cause an injury hereafter to the common weal of the country."
The drift of this treatise is sufficiently evident. Wyclif answered the question as to the legitimacy of refusing Peter's pence with an unqualified affirmative. It is not only our right and our interest to do it, but it is our duty. Yet he who has a duty to perform may be at liberty to select the time for performing it. "I advise you to wait until you are stronger and more unanimous. By suddenly refusing all pecuniary aids to the Pope, you would risk not only disaster abroad, but even civil war at home. I dare not take upon myself the responsibility of counselling you to stop the payment of Peter's pence."
Two things will probably occur to a sympathetic reader in connection with this interesting State document, written, as we know that it was, when the substance of the Pope's bulls had already come to Wyclif's ears, or at least the knowledge that such bulls. had been framed and despatched against him. One thing is that the writer could not have been a fanatic, and was far from losing his head through hatred of Rome, since, when he had the power of egging on the Commons and the barons to strike a telling blow at the Papacy, he forbore to do so from motives of wise calculation and prudence. And another thing which strikes us is that this calculation and this prudence were by no means based on selfish considerations, suggested by the aforementioned bulls, for never had Wyclif spoken or written in a more uncompromising spirit of the claims of Rome, the independence of England, and the freedom of the individual conscience. The paper was addressed to the King and the great Council. It would very probably be read aloud to both Houses, and certainly the bishops would be made acquainted with its contents, so that if the Reformer's object had been to strike a bargain, and to palter with his convictions, he could not have done it in a more unfortunate manner.
The Parliament which received and acted upon this remarkable compound of anti-papal stricture and patriotic prudence was of course not the same as that which had met early in the year, in which the Commons had been packed by John of Gaunt, and which had discharged its functions by the first week of March. The demise of the Crown had been followed by the issue of new writs, and the new members would doubtless be thoroughly loyal, well-disposed to the Princess of Wales, and in perfect accord with the King's Council. It is probable that the elections had been free from interference; the loyalty of the country would be taken for granted, and certainly the Duke of Lancaster was not just then strong enough to influence them, even if he had been minded to play the Princess false, which there is no reason to suppose. It is not without significance that this first Parliament of Richard II., chosen without any bias on the part of Wyclif's patrons, should have treated him with so much distinction, consulting him on a State question of capital importance, and receiving (and virtually approving) his rejoinder to the papal bulls.
