A Vernacular Bible:The Wycliffite Versions
A Vernacular Bible:
The Wycliffite Versions
One of those who pressed most vigorously for an English version of the Bible in the fourteenth century was John Wycliffe (c. 1330–84), often seen as a forerunner of the Reformation of the sixteenth century. Wycliffe argued extensively—in both English and Latin—for the translation of the Bible into his native English. The English people had a right to read the Bible in their own language, rather than be forced to listen to what their clergy wished them to hear. As Wycliffe pointed out, the ecclesiastical establishment had a considerable vested interest in not allowing the laity access to the Bible. They might even discover that there was a massive discrepancy between the lifestyles of bishops and clergy and those commended—and practiced—by Christ and the apostles.
Wycliffe thus threatened to destroy the whole edifice of clerical domination in matters of theology and church life. The translation of the Bible into English would be a social leveler on a hitherto unknown scale. All would be able to read Christendom's sacred text, and judge both the lifestyle and teachings of the medieval Church on its basis. The very idea sent shock waves throughout the complacent Church establishment of the day. Henry Knighton—an English chronicler interested in maintaining his rather comfortable status quo—had no doubts of the dangers posed by what Wycliffe proposed. Christ put the clergy in charge of the church; what right had lay people to get involved in its affairs?
Portrait of John Wycliffe
John Wycliffe translated the gospel, which Christ had entrusted to clerics and doctors of the church, so that they might administer it conveniently to the laity, and to lesser people according to the needs of the time and the requirements of their audience, in terms of their hunger of mind. Wycliffe translated it from Latin into the English—not the angelic!—language. As a result, what was previously known only by learned clerics and those of good understanding has become common, and available to the laity—in fact, even to women who can read. As a result, the pearls of the gospel have been scattered and spread before swine.
Knighton here makes a somewhat labored pun on the Latin terms lingua anglica (English language) and lingua angelica (angelic language). His lousy sense of humor apart, the concern he had was real, and was shared by many within the religious establishment of the era. Translating the Bible into English would break the clerical monopoly on this text, and allow it to be placed into the hands of the laity—or, even worse in Knighton's view, women. What Knighton feared was, of course, precisely what Wycliffe hoped for.
Wycliffe's follower Nicholas Hereford preached a series of sermons in English at Oxford in May and June 1382. They attracted considerable popular interest, not least because lay people could understand what Hereford was demanding—including his severe criticisms of the wealth of the Church and individual clergy, and the obsession with money and litigation that seemed to have become endemic within the Church. If neither the Church nor the king were prepared to sort things out, Hereford suggested that the laity might like to take things into their own hands. England had been thrown into chaos by the Peasants' Revolt of June-July 1381. The cause of the revolt was a punitive new tax of one shilling, imposed on all men and women over the age of sixteen. For a while, it seemed as if the social fabric of England was being torn into shreds. King Richard II lived in fear of a new outbreak of rebellion. Coming a year after this revolt, which had caused chaos in England, these were rightly seen as highly contentious and incendiary ideas. What excited the English laity caused serious anxiety in the cloisters of power. It is little surprise that the archbishop of Canterbury summoned Hereford and others to London to explain themselves—in Latin, of course, for fear that any inquisitive lay people present might understand and approve of their proposals.
The evidence that Wycliffe himself undertook biblical translation from Latin into English is far from secure, and it is likely that history's final judgment on this matter will be that Wycliffe probably encouraged others to do what he personally lacked the time to undertake. Yet it is clear that Wycliffe's program had the potential to revolutionize England—if it was allowed to happen. Wycliffe himself contrasted the divine authority of the Bible with the human authority of both king and Church. What would happen if the population of England were given access to the text of the Bible in a language they could understand? Might not the institutions of the day—fragile enough at the best of times—be liable to be overthrown in a frenzy of revolutionary activity?
One of Nicholas Hereford's sermons ended with the following words, which clearly implied that it was God's will—as revealed in the Bible—that the Christian population should rise up and seize the wealth of the clergy.
As there are no officers [of the state] specifically appointed for this purpose, it is necessary for you, O faithful Christian people, to take this matter into your hands and ensure this obligation is achieved. And I firmly hope that this will succeed, as I know with the greatest certainty that God almighty wishes it to be done.
Divine authority was being cited for social upheaval. God was being invoked as the basis of radical change. It is little wonder that the state and church authorities panicked. As a result, the mere possession of a vernacular Bible was presumptive evidence of heresy in fifteenth-century England. Powerful vested interests were thus stacked up against the production of an English Bible. English kings and bishops feared that this might cause the English people to rise in revolt, and overthrow them.
Yet it was one thing to block the production of such a Bible in England. What would happen if an English translation of the Bible were to be produced abroad, and smuggled into England? The very idea of such a Bible was deeply unsettling to the English elite at this time. The development of the technology of printing in Europe meant that there was a very real threat of someone producing such a Bible as a business venture, aiming to make money out of it. What could be done to stop this? As events proved, this much-feared development would not take place until the 1520s. As expected, it proved formidably difficult to detect and prevent such importation.
But this is to run ahead of our story. One of the most remarkable facts of English history during the Middle Ages is that its ruling elite chose not to use their native language of English, except when dealing with social inferiors. The publication of the King James Bible in 1611 can be seen as the crowning literary and religious glory of a nation that had finally come of age, and took pride in its own language. Yet it took the English generations to love, respect, and use their own language. So important is this matter to our story that we must tell something of the remarkable tale of how English emerged from obscurity to begin its remarkable advance to become the world's favorite language.