V

HUGH LATIMER’S TEXT

There is excitement in the streets of London! Who is this upon whom the crowd is pressing as he passes down the Strand? Women throw open the windows and gaze admiringly out; shopkeepers rush from behind their counters to join the throng as it approaches: apprentices fling aside their tools and, from every lane and alley, pour into the street; waggoners rein in their horses and leave them for a moment unattended; the taverns empty as the procession draws near them! Everybody is anxious to catch a glimpse of this man’s face; to hear, if possible, the sound of his voice; or, better still, to clasp his hand as he passes. For this is Hugh Latimer; the terror of evil-doers; the idol of the common people; and, to use the phraseology of a chronicler of the period, ‘the honestest man in England.’ By sheer force of character he has raised himself from a ploughman’s cottage to a bishop’s palace — an achievement that, in the sixteenth century, stands without precedent or parallel. ‘My father was a yeoman,’ he says, in the course of a sermon preached before the King, ‘my father was a yeoman, and had no lands of his own; he had a farm of three or four pounds a year at the utmost, and hereupon he tilled so much as kept half-a-dozen men. He had walk for a hundred sheep; and my mother milked thirty kine. He kept me at school, or else I had not been able to have preached before the King’s majesty now.’ Nor has his elevation spoiled him. He has borne with him in his exaltations the spirit of the common people. He feels as they feel; he thinks as they think; he even speaks as they speak. It was said of him, as of his Master, that the common people heard him gladly. In cathedral pulpits and royal chapels he speaks a dialect that the common people can readily understand; he uses homely illustrations gathered from the farm, the kitchen and the counting-house ; he studiously eschews the pedantries of the schoolmen and the subtleties of the theologians. His sermons are, as Macaulay says, ‘the plain talk of a plain man, who sprang from the body of the people, who sympathized strongly with their wants and their feelings, and who boldly uttered their opinions.’ It was on account of the fearless way in which stout-hearted old Hugh exposed the misdeeds of men in ermine tippets and gold collars that the Londoners cheered him as he walked down the Strand to preach at Whitehall, struggled for a touch of his gown, and bawled, ‘Have at them. Father Latimer!’ There he goes, then ; a man of sound sense, honest affection, earnest purpose and sturdy speech; a man whose pale face, stooping figure and emaciated frame show that it has cost him something to struggle upwards from the ploughshare to the palace ; a man who looks for all the world like some old Hebrew prophet transplanted incongruously into the prosaic life of London! He passes down the Strand with the people surging fondly around him. He loves the people, and is pleased with their confidence in him. His heart is simple enough and human enough to find the sweetest of all music in the plaudits that are ringing in his ears. So much for London; we must go to Oxford!

II

There is excitement in the streets of Oxford! Who is this upon whom the crowd is pressing as he passes down from the Mayor’s house to the open ground in front of Balliol College? Again, women are leaning out of the windows; shopkeepers are forsaking their counters; apprentices are throwing aside their tools; and drivers are deserting their horses that they may stare at him. It is Hugh Latimer again! He is a little thinner than when we saw him in London; for he has exchanged a palace for a prison. The people still press upon him and make progress difficult; but this time they crowd around him that they may curse him! It is the old story of ‘Hosannah!’ one day and ‘Away with Him! Crucify Him!’ the next. The multitude is a fickle master. Since we saw him in the Strand, the crown has passed from one head to another; the court has changed its ways to gratify the whims of its new mistress; the Government has swung round to match the moods of the court; and the people, like sheep, have followed their leaders. They are prepared now to crown the men whom before they would have crucified, and to crucify the men whom they would then have crowned. But Hugh Latimer and his companion — for this time he is not alone — are not of the same accommodating temper. Hugh Latimer is still ‘the honestest man in England!’ His conscience is still his only monitor; his tongue is still free; his soul is not for sale ! And so — 

In Oxford town the faggots they piled,
With furious haste and with curses wild,
Round two brave men of our British breed,
Who dared to stand true to their speech and deed;

Round two brave men of that sturdy race,
Who with tremorless souls the worst can face ;
Round two brave souls who could keep their tryst
Through a pathway of fire to follow Christ.

And the flames leaped up, but the blinding smoke
Could not the soul of Hugh Latimer choke;
For, said he, ‘Brother Ridley, be of good cheer,
A candle in England is lighted here,

Which by grace of God shall never go out!’ —
And that speech in whispers was echoed about —
Latimer’s Light shall never go out.
However the winds may blow it about.

Latimer’s Light has come to stay
Till the trump of a coming judgement day.

‘Bishop Ridley,’ so runs the record, ‘first entered the lists, dressed in his episcopal habit; and, soon after, Bishop Latimer, dressed, as usual, in his prison garb. Master Latimer now suffered the keeper to pull off his prison-garb and then he appeared in his shroud. Being ready, he fervently recommended his soul to God, and then he delivered himself to the executioner, saying to the Bishop of London these prophetical words: “We shall this day, my lord, light such a candle in England as shall never be extinguished!”’ 

But it is time that we went back forty years or so, to a time long before either of the processions that we have just witnessed took place. We must ascertain at what flame the light that kindled that candle was itself ignited.

III

Very early in the sixteenth century, England was visited by one of the greatest scholars of the Renaissance, Desiderius Erasmus. After being welcomed with open arms at the Universities, he returned to the Continent and engrossed himself in his learned researches. At Cambridge, however, he had made a profound and indelible impression on at least one of the scholars. Thomas Bilney, familiarly known as ‘Little Bilney,’ was feeling, in a vague and indefinite way, the emptiness of the religion that he had been taught. He felt that Erasmus possessed a secret that was hidden from English eyes, and he vowed that, whatever it might cost him, he would purchase every line that came from the great master’s pen. In France, Erasmus translated the New Testament into Latin. The ingenuity and industry of Bilney soon secured for him a copy of the book. As to its effect upon him, he shall speak for himself. ‘My soul was sick,’ he says, ‘and I longed for peace, but nowhere could I find it. I went to the priests, and they appointed me penances and pilgrimages; yet, by these things my poor sick soul was nothing profited. But at last I heard of Jesus. It was then, when first the New Testament was set forth by Erasmus, that the light came. I bought the book, being drawn thereto rather by the Latin than by the Word of God, for at that time I knew not what the Word of God meant. And, on the first reading of it, as I well remember, I chanced upon these words, “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of who I am chief.” That one sentence, through God’s inward working, did so lift up my poor bruised spirit that the very bones within me leaped for joy and gladness. It was as if, after a long, dark night, day had suddenly broke!’ But what has all this to do with Hugh Latimer?

IV

In those days Latimer was preaching at Cambridge, and all who heard him fell under the spell of his transparent honesty and rugged eloquence. Latimer was then the sturdy champion of the old religion and the uncompromising foe of all who were endeavouring to introduce the new learning. Of all the friars, he was the most punctilious, the most zealous, the most devoted. Bilney went to hear him and fell in love with him at once. He saw that the preacher was mistaken; that his eyes had not been opened to the sublimities that had flooded his own soul with gladness; but he recognised his sincerity, his earnestness and his resistless power; and he longed to be the instrument of his illumination. If only he could do for Latimer what Aquila and Priscilla did for Apollos, and expound unto him the way of God more perfectly! It became the dream and desire of Bilney’s life. ‘O God,’ he cried, ‘I am but “Little Bilney,” and shall never do any great thing for Thee; but give me the soul of that man, Hugh Latimer, and what wonders he shall do in Thy most holy Name!’

Where there’s a will there’s a way! One day, as Latimer descends from the pulpit, he passes so close to Bilney that his robes almost brush the student’s face. Like a flash, a sudden inspiration leaps to Bilney’s mind. ‘Prithee, Father Latimer,’ he whispers, ‘may I confess my soul to thee?’ The preacher beckons, and, into the quiet room adjoining, the student follows.

Of all the strange stories that heartbroken penitents have poured into the ears of Father-Confessors since first the confessional was established, that was the strangest! Bilney falls on his knees at Latimer’s feet and allows his soul, pent up for so long, to utter itself freely at last. He tells of the aching hunger of his heart; he tells of the visit of Erasmus; he tells of the purchase of the book; and then he tells of the text. ‘There it stood,’ he says, the tears standing in his eyes, ‘the very word I wanted. It seemed to be written in letters of light: “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” O Father Latimer,’ he cries, the passion of his fervour increasing as the memory of his own experience rushes back upon him, ‘I went to the priests and they pointed me to broken cisterns that held no water and only mocked my thirst! I bore the load of my sins until my soul was crushed beneath the burden! And then I saw that “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief”; and now, being justified by faith, I have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ!’

Latimer is taken by storm. He is completely overwhelmed. He, too, knows the aching dissatisfaction that Bilney has described. He has experienced for years the same insatiable hunger, the same devouring thirst. To the astonishment of Bilney, Latimer rises and then kneels beside him. The Father-Confessor seeks guidance from his penitent! Bilney draws from his pocket the sacred volume that has brought such comfort and such rapture to his own soul. It falls open at the passage that Bilney has read to himself over and over and over again : “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief” The light that never was on sea or shore illumines the soul of Hugh Latimer, and Bilney sees that the passionate desire of his heart has been granted him. And from that hour Bilney and Latimer lived only that they might unfold to all kinds and conditions of men the unsearchable riches of Christ.

V

‘This is a faithful saying!’ That is the preacher’s comfort. In the course of a recent tour through Western Australia, I was taken through the gold diggings. And, near Kanowna, I was shown the spot on which, years ago, there gathered one of the largest and most extraordinary congregations that ever assembled on this side of the world. It was whispered all over the diggings that an enormous nugget had been found and that Father Long, the local priest, had seen it and knew exactly where it was discovered. Morning, noon and night the young priest was pestered by eager gold-hunters for information; but to one and all his lips were sealed. At last he consented to announce publicly the exact locality of the wonderful find. At the hour fixed men came from far and near, some on horseback, some on camels, some in all kinds of conveyances, and thousands on foot. It was the largest gathering of diggers in the history of the gold fields. At the appointed time Father Long appeared, surveyed the great sea of bronzed and bearded faces, and then announced that the ‘Sacred Nugget’ had been found in the Lake Gwynne country. In a moment the crowd had vanished! There was the wildest stampede for the territory to which the priest had pointed them. But as the days passed by, the disappointed seekers, in twos and threes, came dribbling wearily back. Not a glint of gold had been seen by any of them! And then the truth flashed upon them. The priest had been hoaxed! The ‘Sacred Nugget’ was a mass of common metal splashed with gold paint! Father Long took the matter bitterly to heart; he went to bed a broken and humiliated man; and, a few months later, disconsolate, he died! It was a great day in Hugh Latimer’s life when he got among the ‘faithful sayings,’ the sayings of which he was certain, the sayings that could never bring to any confiding hearer the heartbreak and disgust of disappointment.

VI

‘It is worthy of all acceptation!’ It is worthy! It is worthy of your acceptance, your Majesty, for this proclamation craves no patronage! It is worthy of your acceptance, your Excellency, your Grace, my Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen all, for the gospel asks no favours! It is worthy, worthy, worthy of the acceptance of you all! Hugh Latimer stood before kings and courtiers, and declared that ‘this is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.’ Never once did he forget the dignity of his message: it was faithful; it was worthy in its own right of the acceptance of the lordliest; and he himself staked his life upon it at the last!

VII

Dr. Archibald Alexander, of Princeton, was for sixty years a minister of Christ; and for forty of those years he was a Professor of Divinity. No man in America was more revered or beloved. He died on October 22, 1851. As he lay a-dying, he was heard by a friend to say, ‘All my theology is reduced now to this narrow compass : “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.”’ In life and in death Hugh Latimer was of pretty much the same mind.

F.W. Boreham