Foxe’s Christian Martyrs (Part 7)

THE WALDENSES

About 1160, Peter Waldo, a citizen of lyons, suddenly changed his lifestyle, giving away large amounts of money, studying God’s Word, and teaching others how to live virtuous lives. In time, people flocked to him, eager to receive the scriptures he translated into French and passed out to those who wanted to learn.

Soon the churchman in the area, who would not explain the scripture to the people, ordered Waldo to stop his work or face excommunication. Although Waldo ignored their orders, they persecuted his followers so badly that they were all forced to leave the city. The exiled Waldenses dispersed to many places, including Bohemia, lombardy, and other French provinces. So perfect were they in their knowledge of scripture that unlettered countrymen were able to recite the entire book of Job by heart. Others knew the whole New Testament. One of their fiercest persecutors admitted, “This sect of the Lyonists has a great show of holiness. They live justly before men, believe all good things come from God, and hold all the articles in the creed. Only they blaspheme the Roman church and hate it.”

Everywhere they lived for the next four hundred years, the Waldenses were subject to terrible persecution, especially in the year 1545. Finally, about 1599, the Waldenses living under the Duke of Savoy in the Piedmont area were given freedom to practice their religion without persecution — after generations of patient suffering.

THOMAS BILNEY

Thomas Bilney was brought up in the University of Cambridge, even as a child studying the liberal sciences and laws. But at last, having found a better teacher in the Holy Spirit, he gave up his study of man’s laws to learn the Word of God.

Excited by his love of true religion and godliness, Bilney felt a need to spread the gospel to others. He was quite successful in this, converting, among others, Thommas Arthur and Hugh Latimer. Soon Bilney left the university to travel widely, teach, and preach, accompanied by Thomas Arthur.

Bilney’s attacks on the insolence, pomp, and pride of the clergy soon drew the attention of Thomas Wolsey, the cardinal of York, who ordered both Bilney and Arthur imprisoned. On November 29, 1527, Bilney and Arthur were brought before Wolsey and a group of bishops, priests, and lawyers at Westminster.

Asked if he had privately or publicly taught the opinions of Martin Luther or anyone else against the church. Bilney said that he hadn’t. He was then asked if he hadn’t previously sworn to actively oppose this type of teaching wherever it was found. Bilney admitted he had sworn to do that but only under pressure, not legally. Told to recant his errors, Bilney refused, saying he would stand on his conscience; he ws declared a heretic.

From December 5-7, Bilney continued to take the position that he had done nothing against the church doctrine and asked permission to call witnesses to that effect. No witnesses were allowed, since he had already been declared a heretic, and on December 7 he was given his last chance to recant before being sentenced. On the advice of his friends, Bilney gave in and was absolved by the bishop. He was sentenced to prison for some time and forced to do penance by going before the procession at St. Paul’s bareheaded and carrying a fagot on his shoulder, then standing before the preacher during the sermon.

Returning to Cambridge in 1528, Bilney fell into a deep depression that nothing could lift. His friends stayed with him day and night, afraid that he might kill himself if left alone. This depression stayed with him until 1531, at which time Bilney decided he could no longer deny God’s truth, said good-bye to his friends, and left to resume preaching in Norfolk. He urged everyone there to learn from his example and never trust their friends’ advice when it came to matters of religion and conscience. He had denied God’s truth once to save his life but never would again.

Bilney was soon arrested and given to the city’s sherrifs for execution, mone of whom, Thomas Necton, was a close friend. Although Necton was powerless to stop Bilney’s execution, he was able to make his waiting more comfortable than normal, even allowing friends to visit him the night before he died.

Bilney approached the stake in a layman’s gown, his arms hanging out, his hair mangled by the church’s ritual divesture of office. He was given permission to speak to the crowd and told them not to blame the friars present for his death and then said his private prayers.

The officers put reeds and wood around him and lit the fire, which flared up rapidly, deforming Bilney’s face as he held up his hands and called out “Jesus” and “I believe.”

Bilney’s travel, teaching, and example were very influential at Cambridge, drawing many there to Christ. Among those affected were Hugh Latimer, Dr. Barnes, Dr. Thistel, Master Fooke, Dr. Warner, and Master Soude.

JOHN TEWKESBURY

John Tewkesbury was converted by reading Tyndale’s Bible and The Wicked Mammon. Brought before Cuthbert, the bishop of London, on Wednesday, Aril 21, 1529. Tewkesbury defended his beliefs for a full week, being so prompt and accurate in his answers that his prosecutors began to fear they were being shamed by a mere leather merchant.

When he was being examined on the cross they said existed in The Wicked Mammon (justification by faith), Tewkesbury replied, “Take the book and read it. I don’t think you’ll find any errors in it.”

“I tell you,” the bishop said, “that the articles in this book are false, heretical, and condemned by the church. Now what do you say?”

“I don’t think there’s anything false in the book,” Tewkesbury replied, saying he’d studied the gospel for seventeen years and knew the faults in his own soul as well as a mirror showed him the faults on his face. Asked once more to recant his errors, Tewkesbury stated, “I pray that you will reform yourself. If there are any errors in the book, let it be reformed. I think it’s fine.”

Given a few days to think about it, Tewkesbury gave in to the advice of his friends and recanted but soon returned to his former stand. Two years later he was apprehended again, brought before Sir Thomas More and the bishop of London, convicted of heresy, and burned at Smithfield on December 20, 1531.

JOHN FRITH

Among all evils of the persecution, none seemed worse to us than the cruel treatment and death of John Rith, a young man who stood far above his companions in knowledge and godliness. Even though his brilliance could have brought him honor and dignity in the secular world, Frith chose to dedicate himself to the church, believing that the truly good man should live for others, not for himself.

After studying at Cambridge and becoming a very well-educated man, Frith became acquainted with William Tyndale, who planted the seed of the gospel and sincere godliness in his heart.

At that time Thomas Wolsey, cardinal of York, built a college in Oxford named Frideswide, now known as Christ’s Church — not so much because of his love of learning but to leave himself a perpetual monument. He gathered together the best vestments, vessels, and ornaments in the land and gave them to the college, also appointing the best professors he could find, one of whom was John Frith. When these professors conferred together about the abuses of the church, they were all accused of heresy and thrown in prison.

Frith was eventually released on the condition that he stay within ten miles of Oxford, a conditon he immediately violated by going abroad for two years. He secretly returned to visit the prior of Reading and was arrested there as a vagabond. Frith was an honest man who found it very difficult to lie convincingly, so othe authorities were fairly sure he wasn’t a tramp, despite his disguise, but they failed to make him reveal his identity. Until he could be identified, he was locked in the stocks at Reading without food. When he began to suffer badly from hunger, he asked that the local schoolmaster be brought to him.

As soon as Leonard Cox arrived, Frith began to complain of his captivity — in Latin. They talked of many things in both Latin and Greek, then Cox hurried to the town judges and complained of the treatment being given such an excellent, well-educated young man. Frith was freed from the stocks without further punishment.

But he had no time to enjoy his freedom because Sir Thomas More, then the chancellor of England, was looking for him all over the country and offering rewards for his capture. Even though he moved from place to place and disguised himself, Frith was eventually captured and imprisoned in the Tower of London.

While there, he and More wrote back and forth to each other, arguing about the sacrament of communion and purgatory. Frith’s letters were always moderate, calm, and learned. Where he was not forced to argue, he tended to give in for the sake of peace.

Eventually Frith was taken before the archbishop of Canterbury, then before the bishop of Winchester, to plead his case. Last of all, he appeared before the assembled bishops in London. His examinations revolved around two points: purgatory and the substance of the sacrament. As Frith wrote to his friends, “I cannot agree with the divines and other head prelates that it is an article of faith that we must believe — under pain of damnation — that the bread and wine are changed into the body and blood of our Savior Jesus Christ while their form and shape stay the same. Even if this were true, it should not be an article of faith.”

On June 20, 1533, John Frith was brought before the bishops of London, Winchester, and Lincoln and condemned to death. On July 4, he was led to the stake, where he willingly embraced the wood and fire, giving a perfect testimony with his own life. The wind blew the fire away from him, toward Andrew Hewet, who was burning with him, so Frith’s death took longer than usual, but he seemed to be happy for his companion and not care about his own prolonged suffering.

ANDREW HEWET

Andrew Hewet was only twenty-four years old, a tailor’s apprentice. On one of his days off, he happened to meet William Holt, a noted liar, who decided that he was a Protestant after talking to him for a few minutes. He had Hewet captured and put in irons. Somehow Hewer had a file passed in to him and escaped, only to be recaptured.

At his trial, Hewet was accused of not believing that the consecrated host was the actual body of Christ. Asked what he truly believed, Hewet replied, “As John Frith believes.”

“Do you believe that it is really the body of Christ, born of the Virgin Mary?” his accusers insisted.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Hewet replied, “Christ commanded me not to believe all men who say, ‘Behold, here is Christ, and there is Christ, for many false prophets shall arise.’” Then the bishops smiled at him, and the bishop of London said, “Frith is a heretic, already sentenced to be burned. Unless you revoke your opinion, you will burn with him.”

“Good.”

Asked again if he would change his mind, Hewet said he would do as Frith did. On July 4, 1533, Andrew Hewet was burned with John Frith.

THOMAS BENNET

Thomas Bennett was born in Cambridge and made a master of arts there. The more he grew in the knowledge of God and His Holy Word, the more he came to abhor the time’s corrupt state of religion until, hoping to live with more freedom of conscience, he left the university and moved to Exeter in 1524, where he became a teacher.

Bennet was a quiet man whose greatest pleasure was attending sermons. In his spare time, he studied the scripture privately, not sharing his views with anyone until he was sure they felt as he did. But every tree and herb has its due time for bringing forth fruit; so did Bennet. Seeing the glory of God blasphemed, idolatrous religion maintained, and the power of the pop extolled, he finally decided he had to speak out, even though he knew he would be punished. In October, he fastened to the doors of the cathedral a scroll that said, “The pope is antichrist, and we ought to worship God only, not saints.”

As soon as the message was found, the authorities attempted to find the heretic who had posted it. Bennet quietly went about his life, attending services and reaching his students while church and secular authorities looked for the culpit. But Bennet was such a quiet, faithful man that no one would ever suspect him of doing such a bold, dangerous thing.

After a while, when it had no success finding the heretic, the church decided to publicly curse him or her with book, bell, and candle — considered in those days to be the most terrible curse of all. Bennet sat in the congregation and heard himself excommunicated, given over to the devil, and deprived of the benefits of the church’s pardon for his sins. All the powers of the corrupted church were invoked against him: the saints, the pope, the monks and friars — everything that Bennet considered worthless, anyway.

The congregation was sitting silently, awed by this display of the church’s wrath and hoping none of it fell on them by mistake, when Bennet, suddenly seeing the irony of the situation, began to laugh. Once started, he couldn’t seem to stop, and he was apprehended as the heretic the church was damning so theatrically. When his friends later asked him why he’d betrayed himself by laughing at their little conceits and interludes?” At his trial he confessed, “It was I who put up those bills, and I would do it again, for what I wrote is true.”

At his execution, Bennet exhorted the people to worship and know the true God, forsaking the devices, fantasies, and imagination of the church. Most of the people there, including the scribe who wrote his death sentence, were convinced that Bennet was a good man and a servant of God.

WILLIAM TYNDALE

William Tyndale was born near the border of Wales and brought up in the University of Oxford, where he studied languages, liberal arts, and the scriptures. After further study at Cambridge, he became the tutor of the children of Lord Welch, a nobleman of Gloucestershire.

Abbots, deans, archdeacons and other well-educated men often visited Lord Welch to discuss the works of Luther and Erasmus, as well as questions of scripture. Whenever he disagreed with their positions — which was often — Tyndale never hesitated to defend his opinion with scripture. One evening Lord and Lady Welch returned from a dinner and told Tyndale began to explain that what they’d heard was wrong but was cut short by Lady Welch. “There was a doctor there who could afford to spend a hundred pounds. Another could easily spend two hundred, and the third, three hundred. Why should we believe you instead of them?”

At the time, Tyndale was translating Erasmus’s Manual of a Christian Soldier. When it was done, he gave a copy to Lord and Lady Welch. Once they read the book, they entertained the churchmen far less frequently.

Soon the area priests began to complain about Tyndale in the pubs and other places, saying his works were heresy and adding to what he said to make their accusations appear true. Tyndale was called before the bishop’s chancellor, threatened, and charged with many things, but he was allowed to leave unharmed.

After this, Tyndale decided he’d better leave the area, so he traveled to London, hoping to secure a place with Cuthbert Tonstal, the bishop of London. When he was unable to do that, he left for Germany.

Tyndale, partly through the influence of John Frith, had decided that the people needed to be able to read scripture for themselves instead of trusting the church to explain it to them honestly and fully. He believed that the corruption of the church was tolerated only because people didn’t know any better — and the church wasn’t about to teach them any better, or its excesses and privileges would be in danger.

In 1526, Tyndale published his English translation of the New Testament and began on the old Testament, adding prologues to each book. In addition, he published The Wicked Mammon and The Practice of Prelates, sending copies to England.

After traveling to Germany and Saxony, where he met with Luther and other learned men, he finally settled in Antwerp, The Netherlands.

When his books — especially the New Testament — began to be widely read in England, the bishops and prelates of the church did everything in their power to condemn them and point out their “errors.” In 1527, they convinced the king to ban all Tyndale’s works in England.

Meanwhile, Cuthbert Tonstal, the bishop of London, worked with Sir Thomas More to find a way to keep the translations out of the public’s hands. He became acquainted with Augustine Packington, an English merchant who secretly supported Tyndale, and Packington explained the deal to Tyndale. Soon the bishop of London had his books, Packington his praise, and Tyndale all the money, part of which he promptly used to print a new edition that he shipped into the country. The rest of the money supported Tyndale for a while.

Tonstal publicly burned all the copies he had brought, an act that offended the people so much that the church promised that it would provide its own error-free translation. Nothing was done to fulfill this promise. In fact, in May 1530, the church declared that such a translation was unncessary, which immediately increased the sale of Tyndale’s work.

Tyndale was eventually captured by the emperor in Antwerp, his books were all seized, and he was imprionsed for a year and a half before being condemned under the emperor’s decree of Augsburg. He was tied to the stake, strangled, and burned in Vilvorden in 1536, dying with these words: “Lord, open the king of England’s eyes!”

JOHN LAMBERT

John Lambert, who was converted by Bilney, fled the persecution of the time by going abroad, where he joined Tyndale and Frith and sesrved as a chaplain for the British living in Antwerp. After a little over a year, he was captured in 1532 and brought to London to answer forty-five charges before Warham, the archbishop of Canterbury; but the archbishop died in August 1532, and Lambert was set free.

This was during the reign of Henry VIII, shortly after the destruction of England’s monasteries and Henry’s divorce from Queen Catherine and remarriage, a time when supporters of the gospel were generally safe in their beliefs.

On his release, Lambert returned to London as an instructor of Greek and Latin. In 1538, he was present at a sermon preached at St. Peter’s Church by Dr. Taylor, a Protestant who would later become the bishop of London and die under Queen Mary. When the sermon was over, Lambert approached Taylor to disagree with him on the matter of the sacrament.

In an effort to satisfy Lambert, Taylor discussed the matter with Dr. Barnes. Now Dr. Barnes was in favor of preaching the gospel, but he thought bringing this issue up would only hinder the spread of the gospel at that time, so he suggested Taylor talk to Archbishop Cranmer.

What had started as a private conversation was rapidly becoming a public matter. Cranmer hadn’t yet changed his mind on the sacrament — although he would later — so he called Lambert into o0pen court to defend his case. Although we dont know what went on in the meeting, rumors about their disagreeement spread throughout the whole court.

The bishop of Winchester was one Stephen Gardiner, counsellor to the king — a cruel, crafty man who was always looking for a way to hinder the gospel. He went to King Henry and told him he was hired by the people for several reasons: for destroying the monasteries, abolishing the pope’s authority, and divorcing his wife. But if the king showed the people that heretics would still be punished, Gardiner said, Henry would regain his popularity with the people. The king immediately agreed, saying he would personnally judge every heretic in the land.

Lambert was brought from prison under guard to be judged by Henry, with all the nobes and bishops in attendance. Given permission to speak, Lambert said that he was glad the king was willing to hear religious controversies, especially since he was a king with such judgment and knowledge.

“I didn’t come here,” Henry interrupted brusquely, “to hear my own praises! Go straight to the matter.”

Taken aback by the king’s harsh words, Lambert was silent.

“Why are you just standing there?” Henry demanded. “In the sacrament of the altar, do you say it’s Christ’s body or not?”

“I agree with Saint Augustine. It is the body of Christ in certain ways,” Lambered answered.

“Don’t answer me from Saint Augustine or anyone else. What do you say?” Henry was addressing Lambert in Latin.

“Then I deny it’s the body of Christ.”

Henry then turned the interrogation over to Cranmer, who, along with the bishop of Winchester and Tonstal, the bishop of Durham, attempted to change Lambert’s mind.

Lambert was overwhelmed. Besieged by taunts and threats from men of power, amazed at the majesty of the place and the king’s presence, and exhausted from standing for five hours, he lapsed into silence.

Finally the day was over, King Henry turned to Lambert once more. “What do you say now, after all the instruction of these men? Are you satisfied? Will you live or die? What do you say? Take your choice.”

Lambert answered, “I yield and submit myself wholly into your hands.”

“Commit yourself into God’s hands, not mine,” was the reply.

“I commend my soul into God’s hands, but my body I yield to your clemency.”

“If you commit yourself to my judgment, you will die,” Henry replied. “I will not be a patron to heretics.” The king turned to Romwell, the chief friend of the Protestants. “Cromwell, read the sentance of condemnation against him.”

Though the advice of the bishop of Winchester, Satan had Lambert condemned by his fellow Protestants — Taylor, Barnes, Cranmer, and Cromwell — all of whom would later suffer for the gospel’s sake. Of all the people burned at Smithfield, none was as cruelly as Lambert; yet in the midst of his torments, lifting up his mangled burned hands, he cried to the people, “None but Christ. None but Christ!”