The Turning of William Maldon

among the 1561 AD manuscripts of John Foxe, the story of William Maldon well expresses, at a very personal level, the power of the unfettered Word of God when read with faith. The simple intimacy of this account gives a good reflection of the convictions that has produced martyrs of the Christian faith through the centuries. The near-lynching in the family portrays the intense conflict of the time – probably toward the end of King Henry VIII's reign in England.

Found	among the 1561 AD manuscripts of John Foxe, the story of William Maldon well expresses, at a very personal level, the power of the unfettered Word of God when read with faith. The simple intimacy of this account gives a good reflection of the convictions that has produced martyrs of the Christian faith through the centuries. The near-lynching in the family portrays the intense conflict of the time – probably toward the end of King Henry VIII's reign in England.
This	autobiographical anecdote is left in its orginal spelling, but a little thought will soon make the meaning clear, and I have added a rough translation below. A translation of the following follows.

	The Maye tide following, I and my father's prentys Thomas Jeffrey layed our mony together and bought the Newe Testament in Engelish, and hydde it in our bed strawe, and so exersised it at convenient times. Then shortly after my father set me to the kepyng of a shop of haberdashery and grosary wares, beyng a bowe shott from his howse, and there I plyed my boke. Then shortly after I wolde begyn to speke of the schriptures, and on a nyghte about eight acloke my father sate sleepyng in a chayr, and my mother and I fell on resonyng of the crucifyx, and of the knelyng downe to it, and knokeynge on the breste, and holding up our handes to it when it cam by on procession.
	Then sayd I, it was plain idolatry, and playnely againste the commandment of God (when he sayeth) 'Thow shalt not make to thyself anye graven image, thou shalt not bow downe to it, nor worshyppe it'.
	Then sayed she, 'Thou thefe! if thy father knewe this, he would hange the. Wilte not thou worshippe the crosse? and it was about the when thou weare cristened, and must be layed on the when thou art deade,' with other talke.
	Then I went and hidde [the] boke on the Sacrament, and then I went to bede. And then my father awakyd, and my mother toulde him of our communycatyon. Then came he up to our chamber, with a great rodde, and as I harde hym coming up I blessed me saying, 'In the name of the Father, and of the Soune, and of the Holy Ghoste, so be it.' Then sayd my father to me, 'Serra who is your scholmaster? tell me.'
	'Forsouthe, father, (said I,) I have no scholmaster but God, wher he sayth in his commandment, Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image, thou shalt not bow downe to it, nor worshyppe it.'
	Then he took me by the heare of my heade, with bothe his handes, pullyd me out of the bede, behynd Thomas Jeffrey's bake, he syttyng up in his bedde. Then he bestowed his rodde on my body, and style wolde knowe my scholmaster; and other then I sayd before he had none of me. And he sayd I spake againste the King's injuntyons, and as trewely as the Lord liveth I rejoiced that I was betten for Christ's sake, and wepte not one teare out of mine eyes, and I thynke I felte not the strypes, my rejoysyng was so much. And then my father sawe that wen he had betten me inofe, he let me goo, and I went to bedde agnyne and shed not one tare out of myne eyes.
	'Surely (sayde my father,) he is past grace, for he wepeth not for all this.' Then was he in twyse so much rage, and said, 'Fette me an haulter, I will surely hange him up, for as good I hange him up as another shoulde."
	And when he sawe that nobody wolde goe, he went downe into his shopp, and brought up an haulter, and the whyles he went, 'A thou thefe! (sayd my mother,) howe haste thou angeryd thy father! I never sawe hym so angeryd.'
	'Mother, (said I,) I am the more sorreyer he shoulde be so angary for this Matter,' and then began I to weepe for the grefe of the lake of knowledge in them. Then sayd my mother, 'Thomas Jeffary, aryse, and make the reddy, for I cannot tell what he will doe in his anger,' and he sat up in his bede puttynge on of his clothys, and my father cometh up with the haulter, and my mother entretyd him to lett me alone, but in no wyse he wolde be intretyd, but putte the haulter aboute my neke, I lying in my bede: he putte the haulter about my neke, and pulled me with the haulter behynd the sayd Thomas Jeffaryes' bake, almoste clene oute of the bede.
	Then my mother cryed out, and pullyd hym by the armes awaye; and my brother Rycherd cryed out that laye on the other syde of me, and then my father let go his houlde, and let me alone and wente to bede.'

A rough translation of the above:
	The following May, I and my father's apprentice, Thomas Jeffrey, combined our money and bought the New Testament in English, and hid it in our bed straw, and used it at convenient times. Then shortly after, my father appointed me to manage the haberdashery and grocery shop, which was a bow-shot from his house. There I applied myself to the book.
	Soon after, I began to speak of the Scriptures. One night, about eight o'clock, while my father sat sleeping in a chair, my mother and I began to discuss the crucifix, kneeling to it, smiting the breast, and imploring it (holding out hands to it) when it passed by in procession. I answered that it was plainly idolatry and plainly contrary to God's commandment: 'Thou shalt not make any graven image. Thou shalt not bow down to it, nor worship it'.
	She answered, 'You fool! If your father knew, he would hang you. Won't you worship the Cross. It was on you when you were Christened, and must be laid on you when you die', and so on.
	So, I hid the book on the Sacrament and went to bed.
	When my father awoke my mother told him of our conversation. He came to our bedroom with a heavy stick. As I heard him coming, I blessed myself - 'In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, so be it'.
	My father said, 'Sir, who is your teacher? Tell me!'
	'Honestly, father,' I said, 'I have no teacher but God, where He commands, 'Thou shalt not make any graven image, thou shalt not bow down to it, nor worship it.'
	Then he grabbed me with both hands and dragged me from the bed; behind Thomas Jeffrey's back as he sat up in bed. He began to beat me with the stick and continued to demand the name of my teacher. He accused me of violating the King's injunctions.
	As surely as the Lord lives, I rejoiced at being beaten for Christ's sake. Not a tear fell, and my rejoicing was so great I think I felt no blows.
	When my father had beaten me enough, he let me go. I got back into bed without so much as a tear.
	My father said, 'Surely, he has fallen from grace, for he shows no remorse for all this.' He became twice as angry and said, 'Fetch me a halter. I will surely hang him as that another should.'
	When he saw that no one would go, he went down into his shop and brought up a halter. As he went my mother said, Thou fool!, you have infuriated your father! I have never seen him so angry.'
	I said, 'Mother, I am more sorry that he should be so angry over this', and so I began to weep over their lack of understanding.
	My mother said, 'Thomas Jeffrey, get up and get ready, for there is no knowing what he will do in anger.' He sat up and began dressing as my father entered with a halter. My mother pleaded with him to leave me alone, but he would not listen. He put the halter around my neck as I lay in bed. He yanked me by it from behind Thomas Jeffrey, almost out of the bed.
	My mother screamed and pulled his arms away. My brother Richard yelled from the other side, and my father let go his hold. He left me and went off to bed.'