Showing posts with label John Wycliffe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Wycliffe. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 10, 2023

Who Were the Lollards

Was Lollardy popular? Besides for Sir John Oldcastle and John Wycliffe, I mean.

Because Lollards believed that baptism and confession were not necessary for salvation, many people were drawn to Lollardy: it was comforting to know that generations of good people who were never baptized would be welcome into Heaven.

Many priests appreciated Lollardy for its egalitarian and back-to-basics nature: praying to saints and saints' images was idolatry that should be shunned. A Bible in the vernacular was important so that everyone who wished (but did not know Latin) had access to it. All the "smells and bells" trappings of the Roman Catholic Church (bells, organs, holy water, incense, grand buildings), were not Bible-based and just being grandiose for the sake of it. Clerics should not be allowed to hold positions in government and have temporal power.

Lollards did not bother with fasting or abstinence, and they challenged clerical celibacy. They did not recognize any special authority of the pope, and especially of papal pardons. Personal piety was more important than what the Church said it could do for you. This made the individual feel more responsible for and in charge of his life.

This idea of the importance of the individual rather than the importance of the "higher powers" in society was very attractive to the common people, and spilled over to their notions of the need for social and economic reform. Heavy taxation and always being made to feel that you were less important than the nobility started to be questioned. Lollardy's tenets were intimately tied to movements such as the Peasants' Revolt of 1381.

Not just commoners were drawn to Lollardy. There was a group of Lollard Knights in the last quarter of the 1300s. Among them were Lewis Clifford, John Clanvowe, and Richard Stury. I mention those names particularly because they were all friends of Geoffrey Chaucer, himself someone who was willing to make fun of the clergy, write about the common man, and write in English (court literature prior was usually in French).

All these men had another person in common, one far more powerful than they. That was John of Gaunt, third son of King Edward III and uncle of King Richard II. Gaunt was at one time the most powerful and influential man in England, but all things come to an end. I'd love to tell you more tomorrow.

Monday, October 9, 2023

Lollardy

What was Lollardy, and why was it so dangerous or objectionable that Sir John Oldcastle needed to be executed for it in 1414? That Wycliffe had to be condemned for it, especially when he translated the Bible? Why was it part of the Peasants' Revolt of 1381? Why was it important to Thomas Arundel to stamp it out?

Lollardy was an attempt in the later 14th century to make radical reforms in Western Christianity and the Roman Catholic Church. It had a synonym in "Wycliffite," because Lollards were followers of the reform ideas of John Wycliffe. "Lollard" was a pejorative nickname whose origin is uncertain, but may come from Middle Dutch lollaerd, "mumbler." In fact, "lollaerd" was used in the Netherlands much earlier than Wycliffe's movement  for non-mainstream groups such as the Beghards/Beguines and Fraticelli.

So what are some of Wycliffe's points that caught on? One is the belief in consubstantiation. The Roman Catholic Church had been teaching transubstantiation: that the bread and wine were transformed into body and blood in a way that meant they were no longer bread and wine. Wycliffe said they remained bread and wine even though the presence of God was in them as well.

What else? How about that baptism and confession were not necessary for salvation? In the New Testament, in 1 Peter 2:9, it reads:

You are royal priests, a holy nation, God’s very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light. 

Exodus 19:6 has "And ye shall be unto me a kingdom of priests, and an holy nation."

The Lollard idea was that everyone is part of a "universal priesthood" and therefore the Church does not have the ability to give a particular divine authority to a priest. With no special divine authority, there is no value in making a confession to a priest, and anyone can baptize.

Wycliffe also believed that everyone should have access to the Bible, and so he produced the first Bible translation into Middle English vernacular. (The illustration from the 19th century shows him giving his Bible translation to his followers.) I say "produced" because scholars now believe he guided others to write parts of it and did not write it all himself. Some think there were earlier English versions that he used/incorporated/was inspired by.

So how did Lollardy catch on? If it was so different from what the Church officially believed, was it going to receive a wide acceptance? Tomorrow we'll see who from the upper echelons of society might have adopted Lollard ideas.

Saturday, October 7, 2023

Sir John Oldcastle

Thinking of King Henry V of England often brings to mind the play by Shakespeare and the characters within. Shakespeare probably learned about them from an anonymous Elizabethan play, The Famous Victories of Henry the fifth: Containing the Honourable Battel of Agin-court: As it was plaide by the Queenes Maiesties Players. The play describes Prince Henry as an irresponsible youth who later becomes king and takes a completely serious turn, turning his back on his earlier lifestyle and the friends he had then. Its first printing was 1594; Shakespeare's first of the Henry plays, Henry IV, Part 1, came out in 1597.

One of Henry's friends was Sir John Oldcastle, the model for the Shakespeare's character of Falstaff. His family was well-to-do (this becomes important tomorrow). He was involved in the Welsh campaigns against Owain Glendower, and was made a captain of some of the Welsh castles. It was probably around this time that he came to know young Henry. Sir John was in parliament in 1404 as a Knight of the Shire for Herefordshire. He was later High Sheriff of Herefordshire and justice of the peace. When he married Joan, heiress of Cobham (an important Kent family), his financial fortunes rose: he came to own several manors as well as Cooling Castle. From then on his title in Parliament was "Lord Cobham."

He had another trait, however, that did not aid him in advancement. He was a Lollard.

Lollards were "proto-Protestants," a movement that was sparked by the ideas of John Wycliffe who wanted reform in Western Christianity. Lollards were considered heretics and dealt with accordingly when confirmed in their ideas. When the churches on his (wife's) estates engaged in unlicensed preaching, Sir John was accused of Lollardy. Henry was informed of this, but refused to take action against his friend until firm proof could be found.

It was. Something he had written was discovered that confirmed his Lollard beliefs. Again, Henry would not condemn his friend until he had spoken to him personally. Oldcastle was willing to offer up to the king "all his fortune in this world," but would not change his beliefs. He fled from Windsor and the king's presence to Cooling Castle. At this point, Henry had to let the wheels of justice run their course. Oldcastle refused the summons by the archbishop to appear before court, but Oldcastle obeyed when Henry issued a Royal Writ. Oldcastle was sentenced to burning as a heretic.

Henry ordered a reprieve of 40 days in the Tower of London to allow Oldcastle to repent. In that time, he escaped the Tower. At that point, with nothing else to lose, he decided to strike back.

How? I'll tell you tomorrow, as well as why I wrote that parenthetical note in the first sentence of the second paragraph.

Monday, January 27, 2014

Regarding the Burning of Heretics

In 1401, during the reign of King Henry IV of England, Parliament passed a law known by the phrase, De heretic comburendo ["Regarding the burning of heretics"]. Heresy was always a concern, going back to Pelagius and Arius, but England had a new threat in the Middle Ages, in the form of John Wycliffe, whose attempts at reforming the church and politics did not sit well with those establishments.

True, by 1401 Wycliffe (c.1324-1384) had been dead for years, but his ideas had inspired a movement called Lollardy, and his plan to bring the word of God into the hands of the masses via his English-language Bible ran the risk (according to Church authorities) of leading the faithful astray by giving them the chance to read Scripture without the proper learning to understand its precise meaning. Something had to be done; something proper and legal—after all, England was a country governed by law, not whim.

Hence the De heretic comburendo, which described the Lollards as:
...divers false and perverse people of a certain new sect...they make and write books, they do wickedly instruct and inform people...and commit subversion of the said catholic faith. [link]
The law states further
...and they the same persons and every one of them, after such sentence promulgate shall receive, and them before the people in an high place cause to be burnt, that such punishment may strike fear into the minds of others, ...
This statute stayed on the books in England until 1677.

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Chaucer's Enemy

William Thorpe before Arundel, 1407; a case of heresy
Yesterday's post discussed Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, and suggested that he was Chaucer's enemy. Let's discuss that assertion.*

England had become more liberal under Richard II. John Wycliffe had pushed for a more people-oriented approach to Christianity that focused far less respect on the hierarchy of the Church—the hierarchy of which Arundel had reached the pinnacle in England, as Archbishop of Canterbury. Wycliffe had even started producing parts of the Bible in English, accessible to more people. The followers of Wycliffe, called "Lollards," were considered heretical by many, and especially by Arundel. Prior to his exile, he had tried to curb that hotbed of Lollardy, Oxford, and had been rebuffed and insulted by its chancellor. Now, restored as archbishop under Henry IV, Arundel had a freer hand to pursue his goal of asserting harsher control over the moral fiber of the realm.

One of his targets, by necessity, would have been the popular poet whose freely circulated works showed numerous signs of Lollardy. Chaucer's Canterbury Tales constantly mocked the hierarchy of church officials, displaying their worldliness and corruption. The pilgrim who seems to have Chaucer's greatest respect is the antithesis of the worldly Arundel:
The Parson may be poor but he is rich in holy thought and works. He's a learned man—a clerk—and he truly teaches Christ's Gospel. He's benign and diligent and patient in adversity. He is loathe to excommunicate folk because they can't pay their tithes ... and he would rather give them from his own income and property. [Who Murdered Chaucer, p. 219]
But would Arundel's dislike of these portraits turn into action? Well, it was during the reign of Henry IV (in 1401, in fact) that England started burning heretics, and a few years after that (1407) Arundel made knowledge of the Bible by non-clergy a sign of heresy. He was controlling, heavy-handed, vengeful when it came to Oxford and Lollardy and of anything that attacked or mocked the hierarchy of the church.

Jones et alia assert that Arundel's need to change the tone in England may have been the guiding force behind Chaucer's difficulties at the end of his life (Henry IV officially confirmed Chaucer's annuity, but records show that the payments weren't actually forthcoming) and the obscurity with which he was treated when he died—although praised by fellow-poets during his life, there is no public notice taken of his death. Chaucer might have seen the writing on the wall; hence the Retraction he wrote for the Tales in which he asks forgiveness for his vulgar stories and prays for God's mercy, in a tone very different from everything else he has written.

*I give full credit for this theory to the authors of Who Murdered Chaucer, discussed in a previous post.

Monday, October 28, 2013

Thomas Arundel

Thomas Arundel, Lambeth Palace Collection
Let us talk about the "Worst Briton" of the 15th century, according to a 2005 poll of historians, and the man who may have been Chaucer's greatest enemy.

Thomas Arundel (1353-19 February 1414) was a well-born lad of 20 at Oxford when he was made Bishop of Ely. He showed no particular proclivity to the religious life (or the scholarly life, for that matter), but his father—who had considerable financial standing at the court of the increasingly feeble-minded Edward III—arranged it for his son. Ely was a very lucrative position, and Arundel might have been comfortable with it, but good and bad fortune were to follow.

The reign of Richard II, starting in July 1377, was tumultuous. The Peasants' Revolt, waves of the Black Death, financial excesses of the Crown, continuing tensions with France, and maybe just the fact that a France-raised child was now king—all these and more contributed to a general unrest in England. Parliament took steps to curb Richard's authority, creating several political crises as loyalists faced off against the elements of the aristocracy that wanted to increase their own power.

One of the elements that opposed the Crown was Arundel's brother, John FitzAlan, the 1st Baron Arundel. He helped get Thomas promoted to the prestigious position of Archbishop of York in 1388, and eventually pulled Thomas into the political intrigue, getting Thomas' support during a crisis of 1386-88. Thomas did his best to stay on Richard's good side, and succeeded to an extent: Richard even made him Archbishop of Canterbury in 1396, but then exiled him to Florence within a year when Richard had apparently regained enough power to take revenge against those who had opposed him in the 1380s. Richard got Pope Boniface IX to make Arundel the Bishop of St. Andrews in Scotland, a huge demotion.*

But how did any of this make Arundel into Chaucer's enemy?

In 1399, Henry Bolingbroke invaded England and attacked his cousin, Richard II, with the intent to take the throne from him. Arundel joined him, and upon Henry's ascendance to the throne as King Henry IV, Arundel once again became Archbishop of Canterbury, the most powerful prelate in the land. While Henry worked to reverse many of the political works of Richard's reign, Archbishop Arundel set about to change the moral climate of the realm, which he felt had become very slack.

To do that, he had to undo the damage to society perpetrated by two of his countrymen: John Wycliffe and Geoffrey Chaucer.

More on that tomorrow.

*And a huge problem, since the Avignon Crisis was going on at the time, and Scotland recognized the Avignon pope, not the Roman pope, who had already put his own Avignon-loyal bishop in St. Andrews. Boniface needed England's support against Avignon and was happy to help him in the Arundel matter.

Friday, May 3, 2013

Dealing with Pagans

The Council of Constance (illustrated here) in 1414 has been mentioned before—or, at least, its outcomes. It was at this, the 16th ecumenical council recognized by the Roman Catholic Church, that Jan Hus and John Wycliffe were both condemned as heretics. There was more to the Council than that, however.

It also dealt with the Three Popes Controversy, forcing the ouster of antipopes John XXIII, Gregory XII, and Benedict XIII; they elected Pope Martin V.

One of the largest debates at the Council took place over the subject of how to deal with pagans. A few years earlier, the Teutonic Knights had fought against Poland and Lithuania; an uneasy and oft-broken peace existed between the players in that conflict, turning into another war in 1414. The Council of Constance was chosen as the place to decide the matter between the groups. The debate blossomed into a larger issue than where the borders should be: did the Teutonic Knights have a right to start the war in 1411? They had done so as a Crusade against the pagan inhabitants of those regions, intending to force them to convert to Christianity.

A doctor of canon law named Paulus Vladimir delivered an essay called Tractatus de potestate papa et imperatoris respect infidelium [Treatise on the power of the pope and emperor respecting infidels], in which he argued that a forced conversion was a violation of the right of free will granted by God. Free will was necessary for a true conversion. He claimed the Teutonic Knights could only wage a war if the enemy had done something to violate natural rights of Christians.

The opposing view said that the pope had every right to condemn pagans simply for being non-Christians. The loudest proponent of this view, John of Falkenburg, was condemned and imprisoned for his views, and for calling the Polish king a "mad dog."

The Council could not come to a conclusion, however. They established a diocese in Poland so that Christianity could be introduced more peacefully. The Polish-Teutonic wars resumed, on and off, for another century.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Sir Richard Stury

King Edward and his knights counting their dead
after the Battle of Crécy, Hundred Years War
Sir Richard Stury (c.1330-1395) was a member of a family that served the kings of England for generations. Stury, during the 1359-60 campaign of the Hundred Years War, was captured along with Geoffrey Chaucer by the French and held at Reims. Where Chaucer, as a valet in Prince Lionel's contingent, had been ransomed for £16, Stury, as a knight in the employ of the king, was worth £50.

He was a chamber knight and a councilor to Edward III. He was also, like many of his fellow chamber knights, a lover of poetry. His will included an expensive copy of the Romance of the Rose.

He and Chaucer were well-acquainted. Their paths would have crossed frequently in London, and they were put together on an embassy in 1377 and a commission in 1390 to look into repairing the dikes and drains of the Thames.

Stury had a reputation for being a Lollard, a follower of the teachings of John Wycliffe. The popularity of this stance waxed and waned over the years, sometimes putting him in opposition to powerful forces in society.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Funeral Practices

[In memoriam: William Shaw, 1917 - 2012]

Have modern funerary practices always been in place? Were there different methods (and reasons) for disposing of the deceased over the ages?

The 9th century Oseberg ship
Burials of pre-historic human beings have been found, showing that the practice of interment has been around for tens of thousands of years. We have not found tens of thousands of burials, however. It is entirely possible that time and shifting geography has simply eradicated traces of huge numbers of burials. It is also possible that nomadic peoples might have pushed a body into a river, or piled up some stones, and moved on.

The Judaic tradition was clearly for burial. Deuteronomy 34:6 tells us, of Moses, that "God buried him in the depression in the land of Moab opposite Beth Peor. No man knows the place that he was buried, even to this day." Early Christians favored burial over cremation or any other disposal. Tertullian (160-225 CE) discusses Christian funeral practices, and Christ's placement in the tomb reinforces the idea of keeping the body intact in preparation for resurrection.

The Viking image of the funeral pyre on land, or the ship ablaze and pushed out to sea, was another medieval attitude to death. The Viking cultures believed in an afterlife, but they knew it could not be a corporeal life—that was over. They (like the Egyptians) honored their dead by surrounding them with accoutrements that would accompany them into that afterlife. Because they were a sea-faring people, using a ship as a bier was appropriate. When those cultures began to adopt Christianity, they changed their funerary practice but did not give up their cultural symbols: they buried their nobles, but chose to bury them in a boat—like the Oseberg ship pictured above—or a boat-shaped grave-mound.

Bound body being carried, from the Bayeux Tapestry
There were debates about the state of the body at the time of burial. The Christian desire to keep the body intact ran up against reality at time. It may have been the Crusades that started the practice of "de-fleshing" a body. When someone was killed far from home, and burial in his homeland was a long time coming, his comrades would boil the body to reduce it to a nice clean and non-putrefying skeleton. This skeleton was considered sufficient to transport home and bury. Not only was this a grisly sight, but Pope Boniface VIII (1253-1303) made the action of treating a body thusly worthy of excommunication. Furthermore, such remains were to be denied Christian burial.

The image of bodily resurrection had taken such a strong hold on Christian doctrine that interfering with the body deliberately seemed sacrilegious. Cremation was likewise considered inappropriate. Which leads me to a personal observation: if resurrection of a body that has decayed for centuries is possible, I do not see how resurrection of a body turned into ashes would be significantly more difficult. Still, this distinction in how bodies should be treated provided a strong visual image for cases when the Church wanted to make a point: it became common practice to throw the corpse of a heretic into the river to be washed away. You may remember the case of Jan Hus, who was burned at the stake and had his ashes thrown into the nearest river, and Jan's inspiration, John Wycliffe, who, although he died in 1384, was declared a heretic in 1415, and whose body was dug up in 1428 so that it could be burned and then thrown into the nearest river!

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Robert Grosseteste

Robert Grosseteste (c.1170-1253) has been mentioned in several posts. His early life, beyond having been born into humble beginnings in Stowe, is unknown. One of our first notes about him is by Gerald of Wales (mentioned here), who recommended him in 1192 for a position in the household of the bishop of Hereford, William de Vere, because of Grosseteste's ability in liberal arts, canon law, and some medicine. He remained in de Vere's household until de Vere's death in 1198, after which Grosseteste drops out of the historical record almost completely.

We are sure he is the Robert Grosseteste who was appointed to the diocese of Lincoln in 1225 and concurrently as archdeacon of Leicester in 1229. The double-duties apparently made him ill within a few years, and he pared down to the position of canon in Lincoln Cathedral, and started lecturing in theology at Oxford on the side. According to Thomas of Eccleston, Franciscan chronicler for the years 1224-1258, Grosseteste joined the Franciscan school at Oxford around 1230.

Association with Oxford and reduced ecclesiastical responsibilities allowed him time for scientific theorizing and writing.
He began producing texts on the liberal arts, and mainly on astronomy and cosmology. His most famous scientific text, De luce (Concerning Light), argued that light was the basis of all matter, and his account of creation devotes a great deal of space to [...] God’s command, ‘Let there be light.’ Light also played a significant role [in] his epistemology, as he followed the teachings of St. Augustine that the human intellect comes to know truth through illumination by divine light. Grosseteste’s interest in the natural world was further developed by his study of geometry, and he is one of the first western thinkers to argue that natural phenomenon can be described mathematically. [source]
From De Sphera, on astronomy
For all his scientific interest, however, his first intellectual love was theology and the direction of the church. He clashed with the papacy several times, leading later scholars to try to label him an early Protestant. But correction is not insurrection (even though his influence can be seen in the writings of a true proto-Protestant, John Wycliffe). Now he is considered a valuable insight into the theology of his time, not a rebel.

There are 120 works attributed with confidence to him. They have not all been translated and examined yet. Focus has been on his theological and philosophical works, but many writings still exist only in manuscript form. His still-unedited scientific works may reinforce the current belief that he proves that pre-Renaissance scientific progress was further advanced than previously thought.

He died on 8 October, 1253, and was buried in a memorial chapel in Lincoln Cathedral.

Postscript: If you are curious about his Latin texts, seek
here.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

6 October - Potpourri

A collection of notes related to the date and to this blog*:

St. Francis was first mentioned here, then the phenomenon of his stigmata here. Today is the Feast Day of St. Mary Frances of the Five Wounds (born into the very prominent Gallo family). Despite initial opposition from her family, she entered the Third Order of St. Francis in 1731, and she also experienced the stigmata.

I have mentioned, more than once, the alteration of the calendar to correct inaccuracies. Because of the change described here, and the implementation of the Gregorian reform, 6 October 1582 does not exist in the historical calendars of Italy, Poland, Spain or Portugal.

In the entry on Good King Wenceslaus, I mentioned that he was never a king, but that there was a King Wenceslaus of Bohemia. King Wenceslaus of Bohemia was born on 6 October 1289.

The entry "Not One Iota of Difference" has an image showing what is called the Trinitarian shield. That design, shown here, is the heraldic emblem attributed in the Middle Ages to St. Faith, also known as Sainte Foy to the French and Santa Fe to the Spanish. She was reputedly tortured to death in Rome in about 287 or 290 CE for refusing to make pagan sacrifices. Her name and life seem more legendary than historical, but there is an Abbey of Sainte-Foy in Conques in southern France that holds her relics, and the area has centuries of tales of miracles—often amusing and "prank-like—attributed to her.

Wycliffe's daring translation of the Bible into English was first described here. The death sentence offered or anyone with a copy kept the idea of an English language Bible "off the table" for a long time. William Tyndale (c.1492-1536) produced the first complete English language Bible that was mass-produced on a printing press and that was a translation from Greek and Hebrew versions that were earlier than the Latin version. Tyndale left England in order to be able to produce his Bible, and moved around Europe to avoid authorities who wished to stop him. He was eventually arrested, imprisoned, strangled as a heretic, and then his body burned at the stake, on this date in 1536.

*Plus two UNrelated to this blog: it is the date Frodo gets stabbed on Weathertop, and years later, the date on which Maeve is born.

Monday, July 30, 2012

Defenestration

After Jan Hus was executed for heresy in 1415 (Jan Hus has been discussed here and here), his followers, called Hussites, continued to protest vehemently for the reform of the Church. A very popular Hussite priest of the church of the Virgin Mary of the Snows, Jan Zelivsky, led a procession to the Town Hall in Prague that gathered a large number of citizens. The protest was about the inequality between peasants and the nobility, and about the perceived corruption of the Church that had been successfully preached by Wycliffe. Preachers such as Zelivsky urged people to take up arms to combat their oppression.

After the procession reached Charles Square in the city, someone threw a stone at Zelivsky from a window of the Town Hall. This act caused his followers to enter the building en masse, seize the judge, the burgomaster (the Mayor of Prague), and thirteen members of the town council, and throw them all out a window. Those that did not die in the fall were finished off by the crowd.

This was called the Defenestration of Prague, from the Latin defenestrare, "to throw out a window."* Over a century later, it would be re-named "The First Defenestration of Prague," because the act was so useful that it became a pastime.
Later depiction of a Prague defenestration.
The Catholic Encyclopedia would have you believe that this event so disturbed King Wenceslas IV that he died shortly after due to shock. Perhaps someone should update that page. Wenceslas died over two weeks later, after suffering a heart attack while hunting in the woods around his castle. He had been sympathetic to non-conformists and to the idea of reform, and had been a supporter of Jan Hus. The Defenestration surely would not have pleased him, but a king in his 50s who had seen what Wenceslas had been through was used to controversy. Sadly, his death along with the Prague violence helped kick off the Hussite Wars.

The Defenestration of Prague took place 593 years ago today, in 1419. Consider how you might honor the event as you go through your day!


*Let us pause and reflect on the utility of Latin, to already have a word for this act! It was needed at least for the Latin Bible, so that Jezebel could be defenestrated in 2 Kings 9:33.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Updates

My research (or just day-to-day life) sometimes bring me details that I wish I'd known when I wrote a certain blog post, or that I think are interesting tidbits that tie into posts. Occasionally, I will throw these updates together with links to the originals.

May 19
The Domus Conversorum, the "House of Converts" in London for Jews who converted to Christianity (or else be banished from England). A picture of what is on the modern site is here. (The photographer's caption is a little misleading.)
Also, there was a building called "Domus Conversorum" in Oxford, and for awhile it was thought that Oxford (which had a large Jewish population pre-Expulsion) had its own Converts' Inn. It is accepted now, however, that the property was called thus because the rents from it went to supporting the Domus in London.

July 2, 3, and 5
John Wycliffe was a fascinating character for many reasons, but I may have been remiss in "finishing him off" by not giving you the whole story (one of this blog's followers commented on this on Facebook).
Wycliffe died 31 December, 1384, after suffering a stroke a few days earlier while saying Mass. It wasn't until 4 May 1415 that the Council of Constance declared him a heretic (prior to this, only some of his writings were proscribed). His books were to be gathered and destroyed. The Church—never one to do things by halves when defending the faith was involved—exhumed his body in 1428, burned it, and scattered the ashes in the nearby River Swift near Lutterworth.

July 21
Update on the Greenland/Medieval Warm Period topic
Just this week it was reported that satellites have seen a sudden and massive melting of the ice on Greenland. The specific/immediate cause is unknown. This may make archaeological digs for Erik the Red's settlements easier to examine. The report is here.

(Also, I want to say "hi" to any visitors from reddit.com. Yesterday saw a large influx of visitors from that site to yesterday's post on vocabulary first found in Chaucer's writings. Thanks for visiting anc creating a pleasant spike in my site traffic!)

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Jan Hus, Part 1 (of 2)

Jan Hus (1369-6 July, 1415) was a pious child whose manners and performance while singing and serving in church in Prague distinguished him. He earned his baccalaureate at 24 and his master's at 27 from the University of Prague. He was ordained in 1400, and became rector of the university in 1402.

Hus was greatly influenced by the writings of Wycliffe. While Hus was rector, dozens of Wycliffe's ideas were branded heretical by the church authorities. That didn't frighten Hus away from Wycliffe's works, and he translated Wycliffe's Trialogus into Czech. The Trialogus was a conversation between three individuals: Alithia (Truth) and Pseudis (Falsehood), with Phronesis (Wisdom, the voice used by Wycliffe to present his answers to sticky doctrinal questions). Among the many points discussed in the work, Wycliffe challenged the church's teaching on transubstantiation (previously mentioned here), the idea that the consecrated bread and wine at Mass are converted to the body and blood of Christ. Wycliffe's disagreement with the church on this was based on his logic that bread and body must still both exist, and that they cannot simultaneously occupy the same place.*
It signifies, [...] one and the same - as though, for instance, he should make the person of Peter to be one with Paul... For if A is identical with B, then both of them remain; since a thing which is destroyed is not made identical, but is annihilated, or ceases to be. And if both of them remain, then they differ as much as at first, and differ consequently in number, and so are not, in the sense given, the same...
Hus shared these observations, and like Wycliffe began to preach against what he saw as the corruption and moral failings of the church hierarchy. In 1406, when some Bohemian students brought to Prague a eulogy for Wycliffe bearing the seal of Oxford University, Hus read it proudly from the pulpit. By this time, it was known that King Wenceslaus IV was tolerant of non-conformists. Pope Gregory XII, getting wind of all this, sent a stern warning about Wycliffe's heretical works and the king's attitude. The king and the University of Prague both stepped backed from the preaching of Wycliffe and Hus.

Statue of Hus in Prague.
In December 1409, Pope Alexander V issued a papal bull against Wycliffism. Hus appealed to Alexander in 1410, but in vain. All available works of Wycliffe were rounded up and burned, Hus and his followers were excommunicated. Bohemia sided with Hus against the Pope. (This was easier to do since Alexander was the third man currently considering himself a pope; but that's another story.) Like Wycliffe being supported by his friends and powerful political allies, Hus survived a few attacks by the church. Eventually, however, his luck and support would run out.

[to be continued]

*I blame all that Oxford education.

Thursday, July 5, 2012

The English Bible

John Wycliffe (c.1320-1384) was politically active and a reformer whose brilliance as a theologian was originally admired widely. Eventually, as some of his ideas began to be put into practice, he became labeled a heretic. One of his greatest (and, in the church's opinion, most heretical) acts was to produce a complete translation of The Bible into English, because "it helpeth Christian men to study the Gospel in that tongue in which they know best Christ’s sentence."*

"In ye bigynyng iwas ye word", Wycliffe Bible.
We are pretty sure that Wycliffe didn't do the whole book himself. Nor was he the first: the Bible had been translated into Old English centuries before Wycliffe, but manuscripts were rare and piecemeal. The Venerable Bede (c.673-735) and Aldhelm (c.639-709) had each translated parts of the Bible into Old English. The oldest existing manuscript we have is the Lindisfarne Gospels, a 10th century Latin text of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John with Old English translation inserted between the Latin.

Many so-called Middle English Bibles were in fact paraphrases or commentary rather than strict translations.

For Wycliffe, the Bible held more truth than the church hierarchy, and he wanted people to be able to directly study the word of God. When the church objected—the traditional approach was that the clergy were best suited to explain the Bible to the people—Wycliffe replied “Christ and his apostles taught the people in that tongue that was best known to them. Why should men not do so now?”

So he set about making a careful translation with his friend, Nicholas of Hereford. Although using familiar English words, they stuck to Latin syntax, and so a sentence that we know as "And God said, Let there be light, and there was light." which is a fairly sensible translation of the Latin, came out (following Latin word order) as "And God said, Be made light, and made is light." In the years after Wycliffe's death in 1384, a follower of his (probably John Purvey) revised it, changing the word order to "And God said, Light be made, and light was made."

The Bible was popular—over 250 copies exist—but the church objected to it and to Wycliffe's increasing influence on the common people, especially after the Peasants' Revolt and the increasingly vocal and active Lollard movement. The early 1400s saw some extremely strict censorship laws put into place to prevent any more unauthorized translations. The problem was that, since the Wycliffe Bible had been translated from the Latin (whether carefully or not) without editorializing, it was not easily distinguishable from "authorized" translations. This may be why so many copies survived. Of course, 1453 and Gutenberg were just a couple generations away, which meant that the production of "unauthorized" texts was about to become frighteningly easy.

*N.B.: "sentence" in the Middle Ages did not mean just a collection of words expressing a complete thought. From the Latin sententia, it signified concepts such as "meaning" or "thought" or "opinion."


Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Wycliffe the Reformer

John Wycliffe (c.1324-1384), first discussed yesterday, started his career as a respectable Oxford scholar and theologian. His religion and study taught him that wealth was not needed for a Christian life, and not appropriate for the clergy. This was not a radical idea, or new—Francis of Assissi had been preaching and embodying the ascetic life almost 200 years earlier*—however, his arguments and his public presence and patronage made him notorious.

It was after the conference at Bruges (mentioned briefly in the above link) that he seems to have decided he needed to make a more overt defense of his views. Wycliffe might have been fine keeping his views in the rather private academic arena, but when he was denounced and challenged in public by William Bynham of Wallingford Priory in Oxford, Wycliffe decided to go public with his Summa Theologiae in which he explained why the church should not have temporal authority, and that the king was above the pope in earthly matters. He followed this with De civili dominio (On civil lordship), in which he stated that if the church should abuse any of its temporal holdings, the king should take those holdings away; not to do so would be remiss. It was the strongest argument (and the most welcome, to members of the nobility) for the king's authority over the church.

The monastic orders, who benefited from the feudal system of rents and tenants, were understandably threatened by this, especially considering the patronage Wycliffe enjoyed from men like John of Gaunt, who was effectively the ruler of England during Edward III's decline. When Wycliffe was summoned before Bishop William Courtenay of London, he was accompanied by John of Gaunt, the Earl Marshal Henry Percy, other nobles, and even some friars of the orders that rejected personal possessions. Gaunt's presence cowed the bishop, and the gathering broke up without immediate consequence for Wycliffe. This pattern, of attempts to chastise or reign in Wycliffe being overwhelmed by his supporters, would be repeated more than once in the years to come.

In fact, Wycliffe's views were so popular in England that they sparked the anti-establishment movement called "Lollardy" about which it was supposedly said at the time "Every second man that you meet is a Lollard." It is certain that the citizens involved in the Peasants' Revolt were familiar with his views on equality, although he disapproved of their violence. It is ironic that Wycliffe's most powerful patron, Gaunt, was also one of the chief targets of the mob because of his aristocratic standing. It was not long after the Revolt that Wycliffe was officially being denounced as a heretic, which complicated his life but didn't stop him from writing. As well as other tracts and letters, he had one more major work he wished to produce that would shake the church to its foundations. He decided to do what had never been done before: translate the entire Bible into English.

*Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose is remembered as a murder mystery set in 1327 by many readers who have forgotten that one of the central themes is the philosophical debate on the topic of the church and material wealth.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Wycliffe in Politics

A church reformer gets his start.

We don't know a lot about the early years of John Wycliffe (c.1324-1384). There were likely a few "John Wycliffe"s around this time, and there are doubts that the one who went to Merton College in Oxford in 1346 was the same one who was master of Balliol (a far more liberal-minded college) in 1360, who was given a position in the parish of Fillingham. His time at Oxford might have overlapped that of William of Ockham; it is certain that the Wycliffe in whom we are interested was familiar with and influenced by Ockham's writings.

His running of Fillingham (and a succession of parishes) did not prevent him from living at Oxford and participating in the college as an instructor and a scholar. He became known and respected as a theologian, and received his doctorate in theology in 1372.

Wycliffe's entrance to politics is presumed to be in 1365, when he advised John of Gaunt (the king's son, but a powerful political figure in the wake of King Edward III's increasing senility) to deny Pope Urban V the 33 years of feudal tribute for which England was in arrears. The tribute had been established by King John, but Wycliffe told Gaunt that the papacy was wealthy enough and did not need or deserve the money. Gaunt and Parliament were all to willing to agree: Edward III had the habit of outspending his income, money was always needed in case a war with France should arise again, and this was the time that the papacy itself was in Avignon, France. Giving money to the pope in France felt like giving money to the enemy against whom you might need to fight a war some day!

By this time, Wycliffe had developed strong opinions opposing the wealth of the church. He was not branded a heretic (yet!). Had he been openly thought of this way, he would hardly have been included in the delegation that attended the peace congress in Bruges in 1374. Bruges had two purposes: establishing reduced hostilities between England and France, and dealing with the papacy's problems in the English church. He seems to have attended purely as a respected theologian whose opinions were academic, not militant. At the time he was still friends with men like the monk John Owtred, who held that St. Peter proved the union of spiritual and temporal power—an idea totally opposite to Wycliffe's thoughts on the subject.

That would change in the next decade. By the time of Wycliffe's death ten years later, he would lose his friends, his positions, and the respect of the papacy and many of his colleagues. He would also start a reform movement, produce a controversial Bible, and influence a reform movement in Bohemia. More tomorrow.