One of those who listened was in great doubt relative to the doctrine of the Lord’s Supper; and one day, after Fryth had been setting Christ before them as the food of the Christian soul through faith, this person followed him and said: ‘Our prelates think differently; they believe that the bread transformed by consecration becomes the flesh, blood, and bones of Christ; that even the wicked eat this flesh with their teeth, and that we must adore the host.... What you have just said refutes their errors, but I fear that I cannot remember it. Pray commit it to writing.’ Fryth, who did not like discussions, was alarmed at the request, and answered; ‘I do not care to touch that terrible tragedy;’[[299]] for so he called the dispute about the Eucharist. The man having repeated his request, and promised that he would not communicate the paper to anybody, Fryth wrote an explanation of the doctrine of the Sacrament and gave it to that London Christian, saying: ‘We must eat and drink the body and blood of Christ, not with the teeth, but with the hearing and through faith.’ The brother took the treatise, and, hurrying home with it, read it carefully.
In a short time every one at the Bow Lane meeting spoke about this writing. One man, a false brother, named William Holt, listened attentively to what was said, and thought he had found an opportunity of destroying Fryth. Assuming a hypocritical look, he spoke in a pious strain to the individual who had the manuscript, as if he had desired to enlighten his faith, and finally asked him for it. Having obtained it, he hastened to make a copy, which he carried to Sir Thomas More, who was still chancellor.
Fryth soon perceived that he had tried in vain to remain unknown; he called with so much power those who thirsted for righteousness to come to Christ for the waters of life, that friends and enemies were struck with his eloquence. Observing that his name began to be talked of in various places, he quitted the capital and travelled unnoticed through several counties, where he found some little Christian congregations whom he tried to strengthen in the faith.
Tyndale, who remained on the continent, having heard of Fryth’s labors, began to feel great anxiety about him. He knew but too well the cruel disposition of the bishops and of More. ‘I will make the serpent come out of his dark den,’ Sir Thomas had said, speaking of Tyndale, ‘as Hercules forced Cerberus, the watch-dog of hell, to come out to the light of day.... I will not leave Tyndale the darkest corner in which to hide his head.’[[300]] In Tyndale’s eyes Fryth was the great hope of the Church in England; he trembled lest the redoubtable Hercules should seize him. ‘Dearly beloved brother Jacob,’ he wrote,—calling him Jacob to mislead his enemies,—‘be cold, sober, wise, and circumspect, and keep you low by the ground, avoiding high questions that pass the common capacity. But expound the law truly, and open the veil of Moses to condemn all flesh and prove all men sinners. Then set abroach the mercy of our Lord Jesus, and let the wounded consciences drink of him.... All doctrine that casteth a mist on these two to shadow and hide them, resist with all your power.... Beloved in my heart, there liveth not one in whom I have so great hope and trust, and in whom my heart rejoiceth, not so much for your learning and what other gifts else you may have, as because you walk in those things that the conscience may feel, and not in the imagination of the brain. Cleave fast to the rock of the help of God; and if aught be required of you contrary to the glory of God and his Christ, then stand fast and commit yourself to God. He is our God, and our redemption is nigh.’[[301]]
Tyndale’s fears were but too well founded. Sir Thomas More held Fryth’s new treatise in his hand: he read it and, gave way by turns to anger and sarcasm. ‘Whetting his wits, calling his spirits together, and sharpening his pen,’ to use the words of the chronicler,[[302]] he answered Fryth, and described his doctrine under the image of a cancer. This did not satisfy him. Although he had returned the seals to the king in May, he continued to hold office until the end of the year. He ordered search to be made for Fryth, and set all his bloodhounds on the track. If the reformer was discovered he was lost; when Sir Thomas More had once caught his man, nothing could save him—nothing but a merry jest, perhaps. For instance, one day when he was examining a gospeller named Silver: ‘You know,’ he said, with a smile, ‘that silver must be tried in the fire.’ ‘Yes,’ retorted the accused instantly, ‘but not quicksilver.’[[303]] More delighted with the repartee, set the poor wretch at liberty. But Fryth was no jester: he could not hope, therefore, to find favor with the ex-chancellor of England.
Fryth Hunted By More.
Sir Thomas hunted the reformer by sea and by land, promising a great reward to any one who should deliver him up. There was no county or town or village where More did not look for him, no sheriff or justice of the peace to whom he did not apply, no harbor where he did not post some officer to catch him.[[304]] But the answer from every quarter was: ‘He is not here.’ Indeed, Fryth, having been informed of the great exertions of his enemy, was fleeing from place to place, often changing his dress, and finding safety nowhere. Determining to leave England and return to Tyndale, he went to Milton Shone in Essex with the intention of embarking. A ship was ready to sail, and quitting his hiding-place he went down to the shore with all precaution. He had been betrayed. More’s agents, who were on the watch, seized him as he was stepping on board, and carried him to the Tower. This occurred in October 1532.
Sir Thomas More was uneasy and soured. He beheld a new power lifting its head in England and all Christendom, and he felt that in despite of his wit and his influence he was unable to check it. That man so amiable, that writer of a style so pure and elegant, did not so much dread the anger of the king; what exasperated him was to see the Scriptures circulating more widely every day, and a continually increasing number of his fellow-citizens converted to the evangelical faith. These new men, who seemed to have more piety than himself—he an old follower of the old papacy!—irritated him sorely. He claimed to have alone—he and his friends—the privilege of being Christians. The zeal of the partisans of the Reformation, the sacrifice they made of their repose, their money, and their lives, confounded him. ‘These diabolical people,’ he said, ‘print their books at great expense, notwithstanding the great danger; not looking for any gain, they give them away to everybody, and even scatter them abroad by night.[[305]] They fear no labor, no journey, no expense, no pain, no danger, no blows, no injury. They take a malicious pleasure in seeking the destruction of others, and these disciples of the devil think only how they may cast the souls of the simple into hell-fire.’ In such a strain as this did the elegant utopist give vent to his anger—the man who had dreamt all his life of the plan of an imaginary world for the perfect happiness of every one. At last he had caught the chief of these disciples of Satan, and hoped to put him to death by fire.
Fryth’s Labors In Prison.
The news soon spread through London that Fryth was in the tower, and several priests and bishops immediately went thither to try to bring him back to the pope. Their great argument was that More had confuted his treatise on the Lord’s Supper. Fryth asked to see the confutation, but it was refused him. One day the Bishop of Winchester having called up the prisoner, showed it to Fryth, and, holding it up, asserted that the book quite shut his mouth: Fryth put out his hand, but the bishop hastily withdrew the volume. More himself was ashamed of the apology and did all he could to prevent its circulation. Fryth could only obtain a written copy, but he resolved to answer it immediately. There was no one with whom he could confer, not a book he could consult, and the chains with which he was loaded scarcely allowed him to sit and write.[[306]] But reading in his dungeon by the light of a small candle the insults of More, and finding himself charged with having collected all the poison that could be found in the writings of Wickliffe, Luther, Œcolampadius, Tyndale, and Zwingle, this humble servant of God exclaimed: ‘No! Luther and his doctrine are not the mark I aim at, but the Scriptures of God.’[[307]] ‘He shall pay for his heresy with the best blood in his body,’ said his enemies; and the pious disciple replied: ‘As the sheep bound by the hand of the butcher with timid look beseeches that his blood may soon be shed, even so do I pray my judges that my blood may be shed to-morrow, if by my death the king’s eyes should be opened.’[[308]]