William Tyndale
By Gordon H. Clark, Ph.D.
William Tyndale was born in 1483. He won a reputation for
scholarship at Oxford; then he went to Cambridge to meet Erasmus, who had just completed
his Greek New Testament. This he examined as a curious piece of scholarship, but
to his surprise he found in it a message that stirred his soul.
The priests did not share his enthusiasm, and one day as
he was arguing with them about the teachings of the New Testament, a priest said,
"We had better be without God's laws than the pope's." In indignation
Tyndale replied, "I defy the pope and all his laws; and if God spare me I will
one day make the boy that drives the plough in England to know more of Scripture
than the pope himself."
First Tyndale applied to the bishop of London for permission
to translate the New Testament. Although the bishop was a patron of learning, he
had no interest in the Scriptures. He refused assistance. Tyndale none the less
came to London and hid in the house of Humphrey Monmouth, a merchant, where he quietly
began his work. But he could see men around him being arrested and executed for
reading copies of Luther's writings, and he decided that England was not a safe
place to work on a much more dangerous book, the New Testament.
After one year in London, he went to Hamburg, Germany,
where in poverty he worked for another year and finished the translation. He took
his manuscript to a printer in Cologne. He had kept his secret well and now hoped
to see the divine Book scattered in thousands of copies throughout England. But
a priest named Cochlaeus had overheard some of the typesetters talking. He was suspicious,
got the men drunk, and discovered that the New Testament was actually on the press
and nearly finished. The priest went immediately to the magistrates and demanded
that the material be seized. Someone sent a message to Tyndale, who hurried to the
shop, gathered up all of the manuscript he could find, and fled.
He escaped to Worms, where enthusiasm for Luther was at
its height. Here the New Testament was completed and printed. This was the first
printed New Testament in England. Knowing that Cochlaeus had warned the authorities,
and that therefore shipments to England would be closely watched, Tyndale had made
his books small in size. He hid them in bales of cloth and in sacks of flour. Every
secret way that could be thought of was used to get the books into England. And
in spite of the vigilance of the priests, and in spite of some shipments being discovered,
many of the Testaments were safely delivered and were scattered far and wide through
the country.
If Wickliffe's handwritten copies had been troublesome
enough, imagine the great commotion that these books caused. Hundreds could be printed
in one day; the cost was low; nearly everyone could afford to buy one. The English
people would soon know what the Bible said. The priests redoubled their efforts
and discovered thousands of copies. These were solemnly burned at St. Paul's Cross
in the city of London. It was called "a burnt offering most pleasing to Almighty
God." But still other thousands of Testaments replaced those that had been
destroyed.
It soon became clear to the church officers that they could
not prevent these Testaments from being distributed in England. Then a bright idea
struck the bishop of London. He asked Augustine Pakington whether it might be possible
to buy up all the copies on the continent before they were shipped to England. Pakington,
a merchant who traded in Antwerp, was a secret friend of Tyndale. He told the bishop
that he could probably buy the edition, if the bishop would be willing to pay the
cost. And so it was arranged.
Pakington went to see Tyndale. Master Tyndale, he said,
I have found a purchaser for your entire edition. When Tyndale learned that the
purchaser was the bishop of London, he was perplexed, for he knew that the bishop
wanted to burn the Testaments. Well, replied the shrewd merchant, what of it? You
will make a profit and then you can print another edition.
The bishop got his Testaments, but a corrected and newly
printed edition began to appear in England in quantities.
Since it was clear that printed books could not be destroyed
like handwritten manuscripts, Bishop Tonstal preached a sermon at Paul's Cross asserting
that he himself had found two thousand errors in Tyndale's translation. Sir Thomas
More said, "To study to find errors in Tyndale's book were like studying to
find water in the sea." Tyndale challenged him to make public these thousands
of errors. More was finally forced to narrow his charges down to a half a dozen
words. But the attacks of More and the bishop were effective, for they had control
of the pulpits, and few people ever heard Tyndale's replies. Yet, as more and more
friends were made for the Reformation, the Testament was more widely defended against
these attacks.
The Bible was now so well received in England that neither
king nor pope could stop its progress. But Tyndale himself did not live to see its
greater triumph. In 1534 Henry Phillips, a supposed gentleman, and Gabriel Donne,
a monk of Stratford Abbey, were employed to lure Tyndale to destruction.
The two of them, Donne disguised as Phillips' servant,
went to Antwerp. They found Tyndale living in the home of a merchant named Pointz.
By engaging manners and by pretended friendship, Phillips won Tyndale's confidence,
who first invited him to dinner and later persuaded Pointz to let him lodge in the
house. When he had learned the details of Tyndale's life and knew where he kept
his papers, Phillips cautiously investigated the possibility of having the Antwerp
authorities arrest him. Finding little encouragement there, he persuaded the court
of Brussels to make the arrest.
But even the imperial officials from Brussels hesitated
to arrest an Englishman in the free city of Antwerp, where numerous English merchants
formed a strong party in favor of the Reformation.
After a time it became necessary for Pointz to leave Antwerp
on business. Phillips thought that this would make it possible to seize Tyndale
secretly and spirit him out of the city. Stationing the officers outside the door,
he went in and asked to borrow some money. Tyndale loaned him the money and invited
him to go to a restaurant with him for dinner. As they were going through a narrow
passageway out of the house, the officers seized him and hurried him off to the
dungeon of Vilvorde castle, about eighteen miles from Antwerp.
When Tyndale's friends learned of this kidnapping, they
tried to effect his release. It was in vain.
As winter came on, Tyndale in misery and rags begged the
governor to release to him some of his own clothes to protect him from the cold
and damp. For two years the now aging and frail Tyndale managed to exist in his
dungeon. Then he was taken to the court at Brussels to face a charge of heresy.
He took this occasion to give his judges an exposition of Scriptural truth such
as they had never heard before. But they had come to condemn, not to listen.
On Friday, October 6, 1536, Tyndale was led forth to die.
Before they strangled him and burned him, he prayed, "Lord, open the King of
England's eyes." Thus perished, a victim of priestcraft, William Tyndale,
translator of the New Testament.
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