Henry Phillips arrived in Antwerp during the early summer of 1535. He came from a wealthy and therefore notable English family, and his father, Richard, had been three times a member of parliament and twice high sheriff. In addition, Richard Phillips held the lucrative post of Comptroller of the Customs in Poole Harbor.

In the autumn of 2021, the Rural Museums Network went online once more with a new Seminar Series – tailoring contemporary thinking and practice to those who work with rural life collections, providing practical suggestions and support. He was right in this. Antwerp was full of eyes, ears and mouths. As early as April of that year the Imperial attorney in Brussels had issued a warrant for the arrest of the three leaders of English reform: Tyndale, Joye and Dr. Barnes. This warrant was passed to the leaders at the Bergen in case one of the wanted men should visit the great trade fair held in that town in April. A helpful note forewarned the Antwerp merchants of all these official communications.Brian H. Edwards is the author of God's Outlaw, a 1976 book about William Tyndale, published by Evangelical Press and now in its third printing. This article is adapted from a chapter in that book, used by gracious permission of Brian and Evangelical Press. Brian is minister of a congregation in Surrey, England, and has authored four other books I enjoy reading history, continually learning more and more from days gone by. I saw this book about the search for a boat sunk off the beaches of Normandy in 1944. I normally plow through a book but this one had me reading it over a couple weeks. For the opening session, the Rural Museums Network brought together a panel of experts who were passionate about the representation of Gypsy, Roma and Travelling communities in our rural histories. Jeremy Harte, John Henry Phillips, and Georgina Stevens discussed how and why GRT histories have a place in our museums, as well as who we should be working with to make these stories accessible to all. What his movements were immediately after that we cannot be sure, but three years later, in the winter of 1536–37, he wrote from the Continent a series of long, penitent letters home, expressing his terrible poverty and the fact that his dire straits would soon end his life in abject misery unless his parents held out a hand of forgiveness and assistance. He was by then being branded as a traitor and rebel, and had found himself pursued by government agents and without a friend in the world. Within a few days Henry Phillips had gone. He had learned enough from his new friends to know that it would be useless to work through the merchants or officers of Antwerp; a warning would almost certainly reach Tyndale before he could be seized.

A strong chain hung from the top, and a noose of hemp was threaded through a hole in the upright. The attorney and the great doctors arrived first, and seated themselves in state nearby. The prisoner was brought in and a final appeal was made that he should recant. The book interweaves the present-day archaeological search with the events leading up to and beyond D-Day. Both men, Philips and Thomas, are young in these accounts. The sailor becomes one of the crew of the landing craft, forging the sorts of bonds that men at war make. The archaeologist faces the burden of Thomas’s hopes, and the final settling of the guilt burdens that men of his generation carried silently after the war. And running as a thread between these stories is the archaeology: the difficult, painstaking and downright dangerous task of marine archaeology. Phillips threw himself into the company of the English merchants, and by his silver tongue and golden hand won the confidence of all except Thomas Poyntz, the man who gave Tyndale safe lodging in Antwerp. It was not long before Tyndale, who was frequently invited to dine with the merchants, found himself in the same company, and Henry Phillips had come face to face with his prey. We may never know the identity of the powerful dignitary who so successfully used Phillips as his front man in the arrest of Tyndale, but the prime suspicion rests upon John Stokesley. His hatred of the reformers was venomous, and he boasted of the number of heretics he had killed. Beside Stokesley, even Thomas More appeared gentle. The castle of Vilvoorde had been erected in 1374 by one of the dukes of Brabant, and since it was modeled upon the infamous Bastille, built in Paris at about the same time, its moat, seven towers, three drawbridges and massive walls made it an impregnable prison. The castle was used as the state prison for the Low Countries, and Tyndale was thrown into one of the foul-smelling, damp dungeons with nothing for company but the lapping moat, the squabbling moorhens outside, and the dripping walls and scurrying rats inside.The Search is part of National Maritime Museum Cornwall’s Lecture Series. Other lectures in the series include: Fast forward to 2023, and The Handbook remains an integral part of my entrepreneurial toolkit, this time for my talent management venture, THE SOCIAL CHAMP LTD. It’s been a decade-long partnership that has seen my brand and business flourish through invaluable celebrity collaborations. Third, he averred that human traditions cannot bind the conscience, except where their neglect might occasion scandal.

It caught our eye so TT caught up with Romany archaeologist John Henry Phillips to talk about the inspirations behind his work, the documentary ' No Roses on a Sailer's Grave', and his ambitions for the future. John Henry Phillips left school at 16 and spent four years touring Europe in a band before returning to education to pursue an archaeology degree, something he'd been interested in for much of his life. He worked at West Stow Anglo-Saxon Village as a volunteer and, growing up near RAF Bury St Edmunds, at Rougham, he relished the crumbling wartime buildings from the more recent past. “There are so many World War II airfields and pillboxes around here,” he says. “Archaeology is absolutely everywhere in Suffolk.” The book is an easy read and moves along but is full of emotion and tears. It tells of a relationship between a young man and the last surviving member of a specific British ship and their hope to find the ship and memorialize it in some way, to tell its story.Online Seminars: The Rural Museums Network – Museum Development North West on Subscriptions – Join RMN! Tyndale stood immovable, his keen eyes gazing toward the common people. A silence fell over the crowd as they watched the prisoner’s lean form and thin, tired face; his lips moved with a final impassioned prayer that echoed around the place of execution: “Lord, open the king of England’s eyes.” If you’re in the business of connecting with the who’s who of the celebrity world, then The Handbook is nothing short of a digital Aladdin’s lamp. I’m living proof of the doors it can open. Ten years ago, as a hopeful entrepreneur with a dream to weave my brand into the fabric of high-profile fashion, I stumbled upon The Handbook. Little did I know, it would dramatically pivot my business journey. Unsuspecting, the reformer felt attracted to the easy manner and eloquent speech of the young student lawyer, and before long he invited him to the Poyntzes’ home. There he dined, admired Tyndale’s small library, warmly commended his labors, and talked easily of the affairs in England and the need for reform. He even stayed overnight. Seventh, he asserted that neither the Virgin nor the Saints should be invoked by us….” And so the list continued.

Then, early in the month of October 1536, William Tyndale was led out of the castle toward the southern gate of the town. The sun had barely risen above the horizon when he arrived at the open space, and looked out over the crowd of onlookers eagerly jostling for a good view. A circle of stakes enclosed the place of execution, and in the center was a large pillar of wood in the form of a cross and as tall as a man. John Henry Phillips learnt to dive to make his documentary about finding the sunken landing craft. (Image: Go Button Media)

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Letters of indignant complaint poured into the court at Brussels. Letters also began to arrive at the court of King Henry. And behind all this action was the never-tiring hand of faithful Thomas Poyntz. But it was a forlorn hope. Emperor Charles V was making up for lost time by turning upon the Lutherans with a vengeance, and Henry VIII, having toppled the pope over the cliffs of England, was anxious to prove he was still a loyal Roman Catholic and certainly no heretic. Just to demonstrate his point, 14 Dutch Anabaptists were sent to the stake in England within a few days of Tyndale’s arrest. As Tyndale toiled and the autumn of 1535 faded, his chest and head labored with heavy catarrh; he shivered through the day, and shivered all night as well. As he penned his little treatise, Faith Alone Justifies Before God, winter drew on and the light began to fail; a few hours a day was all he could use for writing. The remainder of the time he sat in darkness. But he must finish his work, for this was to be his summary of the evangelical gospel; since he was going to die anyway, there must be no doubt as to why he died. Piles of brushwood and logs were heaped around him. The executioner came up behind the stake and with all his force snapped down upon the noose. Within seconds Tyndale was strangled.