Lord’s Prayer, and thirty did not know that Jesus Christ was its author. John Trigg of the parish of Dursley received a typical punishment. He was obliged to stand on a bench, wearing only a shirt, to declare: ‘I suffer this penance because I cannot say one of the commandments of almighty God.’
At a meeting with a sympathetic ‘ancient doctor’ 3 who lived nearby, Tyndale was confident enough to open his mind. He had probably known the doctor at Oxford, and ‘to him he durst be bold enough to disclose his heart’. Their conversation turned to Rome and the pope.
These were increasingly risky subjects. A few months before, in September 1522, Martin Luther had flouted the papal ban on translations by publishing the September Testament, his German New Testament. Luther was now writing furiously to the pope that the Roman See ‘is more scandalous and shameful than any Sodom or Babylon … its wickedness is beyond all counsel and hope … under your name the poor people in the world are cheated and injured’. The papal legate in Germany was warning the pope that the whole country was in revolution. ‘Nine tenths shout “Luther!” as their war cry,’ he wrote, ‘and the other tenth cares nothing about Luther, and cries: “Death to the court of Rome!”’ The pope himself, Adrian VI, a Dutchman and the last non-Italian incumbent until 1978, had succeeded Leo X only a year before. He was already dying, however, worn out by the task of restoring some honour to an office so debased by Julius and Leo. ‘For many years, abominable things have taken place in the Chair of Peter,’ Adrian admitted wearily, ‘abuses in spiritual matters, transgressions of the Commandments, so that everything here has been wickedly perverted.’
The Church in England knew well enough that the ceremonialburning of Luther’s works at St Paul’s in 1521 had done nothing to contain the Lutheran infection. It continued to spread, with more books and pamphlets smuggled in from Germany and the Low Countries. Churchmen filled great offices of state – the lord chancellor, Wolsey, the grandest figure of all, was also the pope’s legate and archbishop of York – and the Church’s anxiety spread to government. The authorities were in a state of high alert for signs of Lutheranism. Attacks on the pope were a classic symptom of the plague.
Tyndale made some remark on the papacy critical enough for the doctor to respond: ‘Do you not know that the pope is the very Antichrist, whom the Scripture speaketh of?’ He added a word of warning to the young man. ‘Beware what you say,’ he cautioned, ‘for if you shall be perceived to be of that opinion, it will cost you your life.’
In the late spring or early summer of 1523, Tyndale first mentioned his plan to translate the Bible. He was disputing with a ‘certain divine, reputed for a learned man’. At one stage in their argument, Foxe wrote, the divine said: ‘We were better off to be without God’s laws than the pope’s.’ Tyndale blazed ‘with godly zeal’ at this blasphemy – ‘God’s laws’ meant the scriptures, and ‘the pope’s’ meant canon law – and he replied that he defied the pope and all his laws. ‘If God spare my life,’ he added, ‘ere many years I wyl cause a boye that dryveth the plough, shall know more of the scripture than thou dost.’
The insult to the pope was at once reported around the diocese and there was talk of re-examining the young tutor for heresy. Tyndale found that he had become ‘so turmoiled in the country where I was that I could no longer dwell there’. He feared that the Walshes would also become embroiled and he asked Walsh for permission to leave: ‘Sire, I perceive that I shall not be suffered to tarry long here in this country, neither should you be able to keep me out of the hands of the spirituality,’ he said, ‘and also whatdispleasure might grow thereby to you by keeping me, God knoweth.’
Sir John gave him his
At a meeting with a sympathetic ‘ancient doctor’ 3 who lived nearby, Tyndale was confident enough to open his mind. He had probably known the doctor at Oxford, and ‘to him he durst be bold enough to disclose his heart’. Their conversation turned to Rome and the pope.
These were increasingly risky subjects. A few months before, in September 1522, Martin Luther had flouted the papal ban on translations by publishing the September Testament, his German New Testament. Luther was now writing furiously to the pope that the Roman See ‘is more scandalous and shameful than any Sodom or Babylon … its wickedness is beyond all counsel and hope … under your name the poor people in the world are cheated and injured’. The papal legate in Germany was warning the pope that the whole country was in revolution. ‘Nine tenths shout “Luther!” as their war cry,’ he wrote, ‘and the other tenth cares nothing about Luther, and cries: “Death to the court of Rome!”’ The pope himself, Adrian VI, a Dutchman and the last non-Italian incumbent until 1978, had succeeded Leo X only a year before. He was already dying, however, worn out by the task of restoring some honour to an office so debased by Julius and Leo. ‘For many years, abominable things have taken place in the Chair of Peter,’ Adrian admitted wearily, ‘abuses in spiritual matters, transgressions of the Commandments, so that everything here has been wickedly perverted.’
The Church in England knew well enough that the ceremonialburning of Luther’s works at St Paul’s in 1521 had done nothing to contain the Lutheran infection. It continued to spread, with more books and pamphlets smuggled in from Germany and the Low Countries. Churchmen filled great offices of state – the lord chancellor, Wolsey, the grandest figure of all, was also the pope’s legate and archbishop of York – and the Church’s anxiety spread to government. The authorities were in a state of high alert for signs of Lutheranism. Attacks on the pope were a classic symptom of the plague.
Tyndale made some remark on the papacy critical enough for the doctor to respond: ‘Do you not know that the pope is the very Antichrist, whom the Scripture speaketh of?’ He added a word of warning to the young man. ‘Beware what you say,’ he cautioned, ‘for if you shall be perceived to be of that opinion, it will cost you your life.’
In the late spring or early summer of 1523, Tyndale first mentioned his plan to translate the Bible. He was disputing with a ‘certain divine, reputed for a learned man’. At one stage in their argument, Foxe wrote, the divine said: ‘We were better off to be without God’s laws than the pope’s.’ Tyndale blazed ‘with godly zeal’ at this blasphemy – ‘God’s laws’ meant the scriptures, and ‘the pope’s’ meant canon law – and he replied that he defied the pope and all his laws. ‘If God spare my life,’ he added, ‘ere many years I wyl cause a boye that dryveth the plough, shall know more of the scripture than thou dost.’
The insult to the pope was at once reported around the diocese and there was talk of re-examining the young tutor for heresy. Tyndale found that he had become ‘so turmoiled in the country where I was that I could no longer dwell there’. He feared that the Walshes would also become embroiled and he asked Walsh for permission to leave: ‘Sire, I perceive that I shall not be suffered to tarry long here in this country, neither should you be able to keep me out of the hands of the spirituality,’ he said, ‘and also whatdispleasure might grow thereby to you by keeping me, God knoweth.’
Sir John gave him his
Similar Books
![de Lune, Clair - Master Eric's Virgin Sub [Prometheus in Chains 2] (Siren Publishing Classic)](https://fs.dianahicksbooks.com/572371/thumbs/152x264/de-lune-clair-master-erics-virgin-sub-prometheus-in-chains-2-siren-publishing-classic.jpg)
