Fire in the Bones

1530—1531
Antwerp

An Unsafe
Safe Conduct

Mark this then: to see inwardly that the law of God is so spiritual, that no flesh can fulfill it; and then to mourn and sorrow, and to desire, yea, to hunger and thirst after strength to do the will of God from the ground of the heart, and (notwithstanding all the subtilty of the devil, weakness and feebleness of the flesh, and wondering of the world) to cleave yet to the promises of God, and to believe that for Christ’s blood sake thou art received to the inheritance of eternal life, is a wonderful thing, and a thing that the world knoweth not of; but whosoever feeleth that, though he fall a thousand times in a day, doth yet rise again a thousand times, and is sure that the mercy of God is upon him.

—William Tyndale, The Parable of the Wicked Mammon

The King’s Great Matter

The lives of Tyndale, More, Wolsey, and indeed of all Britons and many Europeans were deeply affected by what became known as “The King’s Great Matter.” Henry’s father, Henry VII, came to the throne at the conclusion of a murderous inter-family rivalry for control of England called the Wars of the Roses. Henry VIII had no desire to see the country plunged into civil war again, and he believed a male heir was necessary to avoid it. Anne Boleyn’s entrance into the court as a maid of honor only intensified Henry’s mood, especially because she was unwilling to yield to him until she was queen of England.

Cardinal Wolsey fell from power because he failed to secure from Pope Clement VII the king’s divorce. Even if he wanted
to grant it, the pope was hamstrung. He was in the control of Charles V, the holy Roman emperor who just happened to be the nephew of Catherine of Aragon, Henry’s first wife.

Tyndale felt he needed to enter the fray. It was an opportunity to challenge the influence of the church, particularly illustrated by Cardinal Wolsey, whom Tyndale nicknamed “Wolfsee” because he preyed on the lambs of England. Tyndale wrote a small treatise called The Practice of Prelates. It had an interesting subtitle: “Whether the King’s grace may be separated from his queen because she was his brother’s wife.”¹ It was printed in Antwerp by Hoochstraten, though Marburg appeared on the publication as its printing site.

Tyndale was not afraid to wade into dangerous waters. Though he could have bettered his situation enormously by giving reasons justifying Henry’s marriage to Anne Boleyn, he did just the opposite, arguing for Queen Catherine with the force of scripture. His innocence shows through again. In the world of politics, he could not be ingratiating. He was born to tell the truth, not curry favor, and political correctness was an idea Tyndale would have disdained as unchristian.

Tyndale’s arguments were bound to alienate the one man who could grant his deepest desire. Henry was offended by the treatise, and in typical kingly manner he raged against the audacity of the exiled heretic. The Practice of Prelates is Tyndale’s least desirable work. We would gladly exchange it for an equal number of translated pages of the prophets or the Psalms. But suddenly the king’s rage subsided, and overtures were made to Tyndale to return to England, apparently at the king’s invitation.

Charles V’s ambassador, Eustace Chapuys, better described as an imperial spy, reported that Henry, “afraid lest the priest Tyndale shall write more boldly against him, and hoping to persuade him to retract what he has already written, has invited him back to England, and offered him several good appointments and a seat in his
council.”² That was quite a change if the report, which Chapuys assured his government was from the most trustworthy of sources, was correct. The explanation behind this mysterious change of attitude was found in a new power at court, Thomas Cromwell.

Thomas Cromwell—Reformer’s Friend

Cromwell was a brewer’s son and a one-time mercenary who rose through his studies of the law, first to a place by the side of Wolsey, then to the side of the king. He orchestrated the divesting of the Catholic Church of its power in England. Pushing act after act through Parliament, Cromwell, with the help of Bishop Thomas Cranmer, overawed the clergy, abolished payments to Rome, nullified Henry’s marriage to Catherine, and married Henry to Anne. Excommunicated by the pope, Cromwell, Cranmer, and Henry had Parliament pass the Act of Supremacy, making the Church of England a separate institution with Henry as its head. This rapid succession of events took place between 1532 and 1534 and illustrates the enormous influence Cromwell wielded during those years.

Sir Thomas More once counseled Cromwell regarding his service to the king, saying, “Ever tell him what he ought to do but never what he is able to do. . . . For if a lion knew his own strength, hard were it for any man to rule him.”³ Cromwell taught the royal lion that he had teeth!

Would Cromwell’s sway be sufficient to end Tyndale’s self-imposed exile and allow his great vision of an English Bible to be fulfilled? Cromwell leaned toward the reformers and set about reconciliation with Tyndale. Apparently, he suggested to Henry that a pen as mighty as Tyndale’s might be a good ally to have in his corner. After all, Tyndale had written strongly against clerical abuses and suggested in The Obedience of a Christian Man, which the king’s beloved Anne had shared with him, the proper role of spiritual and secular powers.

Henry’s agent to bring all this about was a man named Stephen Vaughan. Vaughan was a merchant adventurer with connections in Antwerp. The merchants plying their trade between England and the Netherlands had strong reforming sympathies and supported Tyndale with both money and smuggling avenues.

Safe Conduct

While John Frith was stealing across the English Channel and through the English countryside, Vaughan was looking for Tyndale back on the Continent. Cromwell had commissioned Vaughan to find Tyndale and learn his feelings on returning to England under a safe conduct. Vaughan had a tough assignment. Safe conducts were reliably unsafe. The Prague reformer Jan Hus was burned in Constance in 1415 under the promise of safe conduct. No promise need be kept with a heretic, the church council reasoned.

During Vaughan’s mission, Robert Barnes was granted safe conduct to return to England in 1531. He had earlier carried a bundle of sticks at St. Paul’s Cross under the watchful eye of Wolsey in 1526. He recanted and fled to the Continent, but he was granted safe conduct in England for six weeks.⁴ He had written a strong diatribe against the pope, and Henry was interested in such learned men for his own political purposes. Sir Thomas More, eager to condemn such an obvious heretic, wrote, “Yet hath he so demeaned himself, since his coming hither, that he had clearly broken and forfeited his safe conduct, and lawfully might be burned.” But Barnes was allowed to leave, and More bitterly commented, “Let him go this once, for God shall find his time full well.”⁵ More was never known to show an ounce of mercy to a heretic, and the promise of a king mattered little if an opponent of the church could be eliminated.

Tyndale, though gentle and trusting in nature, was becoming streetwise, especially as news of the arrest of Thomas Bilney and Thomas Hitton filtered across the Channel. Tyndale’s brother John was arrested in 1530 “for sending five marks to his brother William Tyndale beyond the sea, and for receiving and keeping with him certain letters from his brother.”⁶ For these “crimes,” Bishop Stokesley and More required John and others accused of aiding the work
overseas to do penance.⁷ They had to ride a horse with their faces toward the tail “and to have papers upon their heads, and . . . upon their gowns and cloaks to be tacked or pinned thick with the said New Testaments and other books.” After parading through the market place, they threw the offending books into a fire and paid a fine.⁸

Another friend, William Tracy, had written a will that was circulating in England. In it he refused to set aside money for prayers on behalf of his soul because he relied on the mercy of Christ alone and needed no other mediator. This was a dangerous attack on a lucrative source of income and could not be ignored. The ecclesiastics were outraged and threatened to exhume Tracy’s body and burn it for heresy. A year later, they carried out their threat.

A Suspected Trap

In this atmosphere, Vaughan began his search. We know a great deal of Vaughan’s contacts with Tyndale because his letters have survived. He wrote to the king in January 1531 from the Netherlands. He had searched far and wide, offering the promised safe conduct but without success. “My endeavors have been repeatedly brought to nought, whereat I am right sorry,” he begins. “I have written three sundry letters unto William Tyndale, and the same sent . . . to Frankfurt, Hamburg and Marburg.”⁹

Vaughan guessed the reason for his difficulty. “The bruit [noise] and fame of such things as, since my writing to him, hath chanced within your realm, has led him not only to refuse, but to suspect a trap to bring him into peril.”¹⁰ The network of Tyndale’s friends, however, had found him, showed him one of Vaughan’s letters, and elicited an answer from him, which was delivered to Vaughan. The letter, Vaughan wrote, mentions a book Tyndale and Frith were working on as a response to Sir Thomas More’s attacks.¹¹

Vaughan added a note for Cromwell’s eyes. “It is unlikely to get Tyndale into England, when he daily heareth so many things from thence which feareth him. . . . The man is of a greater knowledge than the king’s highness doth take him for; which well appeareth by his works. Would God he were in England!”¹²

Even from afar, Tyndale impressed others with his learning and his Christian soul. His contacts were extensive, organized to the point that, if we accept Vaughan’s word at face value, he received news daily. Still trying to arrange an interview in March, Vaughan wrote, “I can little or nothing profit with him by my letters, for so much as the man hath me greatly suspected.”¹³

“Do You Not Know Me?”

By April 1531, the unexpected happened when Vaughan at last found Tyndale. He described the encounter in great detail. His description is part of a precious document that gives one of the few personal portrayals of Tyndale while he was hiding in Europe:

“He sent a certain person to seek me, whom he had advised to say that a certain friend of mine, unknown to the messenger, was very desirous to speak with me; praying me to take pains to go unto him, to such place as he should bring me. Then I to the messenger, ‘What is your friend, and where is he?’ ‘His name I know not,’ said he; ‘but if it be your pleasure to go where he is, I will be glad thither to bring you.’ Thus, doubtful what this matter meant, I concluded to go with him, and followed him till he brought me without the gates of Antwerp, into a field lying nigh unto the same; where was abiding me this said Tyndale.

“At our meeting, ‘Do you not know me?’ said this Tyndale. ‘I do not well remember you,’ said I to him. ‘My name,’ said he, ‘is Tyndale.’ ‘But Tyndale!’ said I, ‘fortunate be our meeting.’ Then Tyndale, ‘Sir, I have been exceeding desirous to speak with you.’ ‘And I with you; what is your mind?’ ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘I am informed that the king’s grace taketh great displeasure with me for putting forth of certain books, which I lately made in these parts; but . . . I did but warn his grace of the subtle demeanour of the clergy of his realm towards his person . . . in which doing I showed and declared the heart of a true subject, which sought the safeguard of his royal person and weal [well-being] of his commons. . . . If for my pains therein taken, if for my poverty, if for mine exile out of my natural country, and bitter absence from my friends, if for my hunger, my thirst, my cold, the great danger wherewith I am everywhere encompassed, and finally if for innumerable other hard and sharp fightings which I endure, not yet feeling their asperity [bitterness] by reason I hoped with my labours to do honour to God, true service to my prince, and pleasure to his commons; how is it that his grace, this considering, may either by himself think, or by the persuasions of others be brought to think, that in this doing I should not show a pure mind, a true and incorrupt zeal and affection to his grace? . . . Doth this deserve hatred?

“‘Again, may his grace, being a Christian prince, be so unkind to God, which hath commanded his word to be spread throughout the world, to give more faith to the wicked persuasions of men, which, presuming above God’s wisdom, and contrary to that which Christ expressly commandeth in his testament, dare say that it is not lawful for the people to have the same in a tongue that they understand, because the purity thereof should open men’s eyes to see their wickedness? Is there more danger in the king’s subjects than in the subjects of all other princes, which in every of their tongues have the same, under privilege of their sovereigns? As I now am, very death were more pleasant to me than life.’”¹⁴

It is clear Tyndale thought the king was a key to bringing the Lord’s word to the English “commons.” It is also clear that he did not know how to court favor from a powerful monarch and was unsure of the king’s motives. He was guided by one single driving purpose, one so logical that everyone should have seen its virtue. However, Sir Thomas More had earlier persuaded the king to declare that “divulging [the whole of Scripture] at this time in English to the people, should rather be to their farther confusion and destruction, than to the edification of their souls.”¹⁵

Into the Shadow of Twilight

Vaughan’s letter provides a glimpse of the life Tyndale lived during his years of exile. Filled with danger, poverty, and physical
hardship, his life echoed Paul’s description of his own labors
(2 Corinthians 11:23—33). Yet he had not lost the candid, innocent purity of character demonstrated earlier. He found it difficult to understand why he was viewed as an enemy to the realm rather than as a benefactor. Every reasonable man should see the need for the scriptures in English and appreciate the sacrifices Tyndale was enduring to make them available. “Doth this deserve hatred?” has a poignant ring to it. Tyndale, though a loyal subject of his majesty, had a higher duty to God and the work God had assigned to him. Vaughan’s letter continues, showing the constant vigilance Tyndale was forced to keep:

“I assayed him with gentle persuasions, to know whether he would come into England; ascertaining [assuring] him that means should be made, if he thereto were minded, without his peril or danger, that he might so do; and that what surety he would devise for the same purpose. . . . But to this he answered, that he neither would nor durst come into England, albeit your grace would promise him never so much the surety; fearing lest, as he hath before written, your promise made should shortly be broken, by the persuasion of the clergy, which would affirm that promises made with heretics ought not to be kept. . . .

“After these words, he then, being something fearful of me, lest I would have pursued him, and drawing also towards night, he took his leave of me, and departed from the town, and I toward the town. . . . Howbeit I suppose he afterward returned to the town by another way; for there is no likelihood that he should lodge without the town.”¹⁶

The King’s Rage

In his letter to the king, Vaughan continued, “To declare to your majesty what, in my poor judgment, I think of the man, I ascertain your grace, I have not communed with a man . . . ”¹⁷ Here the letter is torn, and the last portion of it lost to history. We can judge from other comments made by Vaughan that he was about to praise Tyndale, for Cromwell later warned him that his own future was in jeopardy if he defended Tyndale too enthusiastically. As circumstances later proved, Sir Thomas More immediately began to inquire into the leanings and loyalties of Vaughan in such a manner as to terrify him. There is no doubt that Vaughan was deeply impressed by and empathetic toward the man he met in the shadows of Antwerp’s walls.

As can be expected, Henry did not respond favorably to Vaughan’s letter. Tyndale was supposed to return penitently, suing for clemency, hat in hand, kneeling in contrition for his offending actions and words. Instead, he challenged the validity of the promised safe conduct and questioned the king’s wisdom in forbidding the translations to circulate freely. He doubted the word of a king who he felt operated under the counsel of his enemies—the clergy and Sir Thomas More. Cromwell wrote to Vaughan, expressing the king’s displeasure in rather strong language:

“The king’s highness . . . hath commanded me to advertise you, that ye should desist and leave any further to persuade or attempt the said Tyndale to come into this realm; alleging that he, perceiving the malicious, perverse, uncharitable, and indurate mind of the said Tyndale, is in manner without hope of reconciliation in him, and is very joyous to have his realm destitute of such a person, than that he should return into the same, there to manifest his errors and seditious opinions, which, being out of the realm, by his most uncharitable, venomous and pestilent books, crafty and false persuasions he hath partly done already. For his highness right prudently considereth, if he were present, by all likelihood he would shortly (which God defend) do as much as in him were to infect and corrupt the whole realm, to the great inquietation and hurt of the commonwealth of the same.”¹⁸

These are harsh words for a man whose intentions were so selfless. But in all likelihood, they are the sentiments of More and Stokesley rather than the true feelings of Henry VIII. How much of Tyndale’s actual writing the king had read is unknown. We know Anne Boleyn showed him passages in The Obedience of a Christian Man,but he left much to his advisers. Cromwell, still hopeful of enlisting Tyndale in the king’s cause, added his own postscript to Vaughan, encouraging him to continue to persuade Tyndale.

“Water Stood in His Eyes”

Vaughan soon had another interview with Tyndale, the details of which he passed on to Cromwell and the king:

“I have again been in hand to persuade Tyndale . . . [and] I showed him a clause contained in Master Cromwell’s letter, containing these words following:—if it were possible, by good and wholesome exhortations, to reconcile and convert the said Tyndale . . . and take away the opinions and fantasies sorely rooted in him, I doubt not but the king’s highness would be much joyous of his conversion and amendment; and so being converted, if then he would return into this realm, undoubtedly the king’s royal majesty is so inclined to mercy, pity, and compassion that he refuseth none which he seeth to submit themselves to the obedience and good order of the world.”¹⁹

Here was Tyndale’s opportunity. He could come home to a merciful king, end his exile, and enjoy family and country if he would amend his ways. Tyndale was deeply moved by Cromwell’s letter.

“I perceived the man to be exceedingly altered,” Vaughan continued, “in such wise that water stood in his eyes, and answered, ‘What gracious words are these! I assure you,’ said he, ‘if it would stand with the king’s most gracious pleasure to grant only a bare text of the scripture to be put forth among his people . . . be it of the translation of what person soever shall please his majesty, I shall immediately make faithful promise never to write more, nor abide two days in these parts after the same; but immediately to repair into his realm, and there most humbly submit myself at the feet of his royal majesty, offering my body to suffer what pain or torture, yea, what death his grace will, so this be obtained.”²⁰

Here is the heart and soul of the man. From the moment his resolve was formed in Little Sodbury, he had stayed true to the fire in his bones. He sought no credit. He wanted no fame. He cared not for wealth. He was not afraid of pain or death. The king could decide punishment. He only wanted his countrymen to know the sweetness of the Testaments and to hear the voice of Jesus in their own language. It did not matter who did the translating. The bare text without any comments was enough. He would silence his pen forever. However, if permission was not granted, Tyndale would continue the hardships he was bearing. No man, no argument, no threat, no promise could sway him. A flame lit by God marked his path, and he had the courage to walk it. Tyndale’s last words to Vaughan ring with his commitment.

“And Passeth Any Man’s Power to Stop Them”

“And till that time, I will abide the asperity of all chances, whatsoever shall come, and endure my life in as many pains as it is able to bear and suffer. And as concerning my reconciliation, his grace may be assured that, whatsoever I have said or written in all my life against the honour of God’s word, and so proved, the same shall I before his majesty and all the world utterly renounce and forsake, and with most humble and meek mind embrace the truth, abhorring all error, sooner at the most gracious and benign request of his royal majesty, of whose wisdom, prudence, and learning I hear so great praise and commendation, than of any other creature living. But if those things which I have written be true, and stand with God’s word, why should his majesty, having so excellent gift of knowledge in the scriptures, move me to do anything against my conscience?”²¹

So many times we hear the voice of Joseph Smith in the convictions of Tyndale. The world also tried to make Joseph deny what he knew to be true, but having the same steadfast courage as Tyndale, he wrote, “I was led to say in my heart: Why persecute me for telling the truth? . . . Who am I that I can withstand God, or why does the world think to make me deny what I have actually seen?” (Joseph Smith—History 1:25).

Vaughan had one final meeting with Tyndale. We do not know what passed between the two men. Yet Vaughan expressed the wish that the king read Tyndale’s words rather than have them evaluated by others. If Henry would peruse them himself, he would see that Tyndale was not writing to “eloquent men.” His style was “simple . . . nothing seeking any vain praise and commendation. If the king’s royal pleasure had been to have looked thereupon, he should then have better judged it than upon the sight of another man.” Vaughan then added, “The prophets Esay [Isaiah] . . . and Jonas . . . are put forth in the English tongue, and passeth any man’s power to stop them from coming forth.”²²

Tyndale continued working while conversing with Vaughan. His translation of Jonah then circulating in England was proof that he intended to press forward. Sadly, he felt a need to answer the man who was reading his publications and turning the king against them. Sir Thomas More had thrown down the gauntlet. Tyndale paused in his work with the Old Testament to pick it up. The duel between the two great men was now fully engaged.

Notes

^1. When Henry came to the throne in 1509, he married his brother’s widow, Catherine. She bore him five children, but only one, a daughter, lived to adulthood.

^2. Daniell, William Tyndale, 210.

^3. Ackroyd, Life of Thomas More, 196.

^4. Ibid., 305—6.

^5. Daniell, William Tyndale, 211.

^6. Foxe, Acts and Monuments,5:29.

^7. The Star Chamber pronounced judgment.

^8. Mozley, William Tyndale, 171.

^9. Ibid., 187; spelling standardized.

^10. Ibid.

^11. A legendary encounter between Tyndale and More is discussed in the next chapter.