The Year 1583

WILLIAM HART, Priest *

Mr. hart was born in the city of Wells^ in Somersetshire, and brought up in Lincoln College, Oxford, where his happy genius and great talents were much admired. From thence he passed over to Doway (disliking the religion and manners of Oxford) to pursue his studies in the English College in that Univer-¹ sity. From whence, in the year 1578, he removed with the rest of the students to Rhemes. In this journey his courage and patience was admirable, when, labouring under a violent fit of the stone, he nevertheless went the whole way on foot, bearing the most acute pains, joined to the labour of the journey, with a wonderful calmness and evenness of mind, to the great edification of his companions, to whom, during his whole stay at Doway and Rhemes^ he was a perfect pattern of modesty and piety. His disease still growing upon him, his superiors sent him to Spa to try the waters there; but all in vain: the physicians declaring that there was no remedy for him but cutting. He submitted, in hopes of thereby prolonging his life to labour in the Lord’s vineyard, offered up what he was to suffer as a penance for his sins, and underwent all with great courage, having his soul so fixed in God by prayer, that he scarce seemed to take any notice of so painful an operation, at which both the surgeon and others that were present were much astonished.

Some time after his return to Rhemes he was sent by superiors to Rome to the English College there, which at that time, and for many years before and after, was chiefly supplied with students from Doway and Rhemes. Here continuing to apply himself with great ardour to his studies, and making daily progress in the science of the saints, having attained to great perfection both in virtue and learning, he was made priest and sent upon the mission. In England he diligently employed his talents to the greater glory of God and conversion of many souls, chiefly in and about York; for, besides a singular piety towards God, a great love for his neighbours, and an extraordinary zeal for the Catholic faith, which were from the beginning very eminent in him, his carriage and behaviour was so winning as to make him agreeable to all; and his eloquence (for which he was called another Campion) y joined to an extraordinary gift he had in preaching, was such as easily made its way into the hearts of his hearers. His devotion was great to the tremendous mysteries, which whilst he celebrated he was often observed to shed abundance of tears; and his charity was very remarkable towards numbers of poor Catholics that were prisoners in those days for their conscience, and who, in York especially, were daily perishing through the many incommodities of their imprisonment, joined to the hard-heartedness and barbarity of their keepers. These he daily visited, refusing no labour nor danger for their comfort and assistance, encouraging them to suffer with patience, procuring them what assistance he was able, hearing their confessions, and administering the sacraments to them.

The night that Mr. Lacy and others were apprehended, who had been assisting at Mass in York Castle^ Mr. Hart was one of the company, but he escaped by getting down the wall, and made his way through a muddy pool or moat, in which he was up to the chin in water and mire. But within six months after,. God was pleased he should fall into the hands of the persecutors, who rushed into his chamber the night after Christmas Day, when he was in bed and asleep, and seized upon him. At the first surprise, and perhaps not yet fully awake, he bid them Keep off and not touch him for he was an anointed priest; adding withal. That he would dress himself immediately and accompany them. As soon as he w^as dressed they carried him to the house of the High Sheriff, w^here they kept him till day, and then he was brought before the Lord President of the North, who having examined him, sent him prisoner to the Castle, where he w^as lodged in a dungeon, which was his only chamber till his dying day. And whereas he could not help discovering, both by his countenance and w^ords, the great joy of his soul in suffering for such a cause, they loaded him on St. John's Day with double irons to tame his courage, but all in vain; for, in proportion to what he suffered for Christ, he found still greater consolations from Christ.

During his confinement he had several conferences with some of the chief of the Protestant ministers in York, namely, with Dean Hutton, Mr. Bunny, ]\Ir. Pace, and Mr. Palmer, in wLich these gentlemen had no reason to boast of their success, though they w^ere pleased to publish that they did not doubt but that he w ould easily be brought over to their side.

When he was brought to the bar, the Judge asked him wLy he had left his native country to go beyond the seas. He answ^ered. For no other reason, my Lord, hut to acquire virtue and learning; and whereas I found religion and virtue flourishing in those countries, I took holy orders {to which I perceived myself called hy a certain impidse from God), to the end that, renouncing the world, I might he more at liberty to sei've my Make)'. They asked him how^ he had employed his time since his return into England. He answered. In instructing the ignorant and administering the sacraments for the benefit of the souls of his countrymen. They told him he was guilty of high treason — first, for quitting the kingdom w'ithout the leave of her Majesty, and adhering to her capital enemy, the Pope; secondly, for withdrawing her Majesty’s subjects from their obedience by reconciling them to the Church of Rome, as he had done Mr. John Wright and one Couling. Mr. Hart replied. That his going out of England could be no treason, since he went to no other end hut to improve himself in learning and virtue; that his obedience to the Pope in spiritual matters was no ways inconsistent with his allegiance to his Queen; and that he called God to witness that he had never in his life entertained so much as a thought derogatory to the authority of the Queen, whom he acknowledged his lawful sovereign, or tending to withdraw her subjects from their obedience; and that neither Mr. Wright nor Couling, nor any other, could say that he had ever spoke so much as one word to them to dissuade them from their obedience to her Majesty.

However, upon these two heads an indictment of treason was drawn up and a jury impanelled, who, as directed by the judges, brought him in guilty. And accordingly he had sentence to die as in cases of high treason. He received the sentence with a perfect conformity to the will of God, using those words of holy Job, Dominus dedit, etc. — The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; as it has pleased the Lord, so has it been done: may the name of the Lord be blessed; adding. That he was in good hopes that now a short time would put an end to his mortal life and all its miseries, to be succeeded by true and everlasting joys.

The six last days before execution he prepared himself for his exit by a rigorous fast, spending withal whole nights in prayer and contemplation, and ardently wishing for that happy hour that should eternally unite him to the sovereign object of his love. When he was brought out of his dungeon on the day he was to suffer, he took his leave of the Catholic prisoners, earnestly recommending his last conflict to their prayers. Then addressing himself to the chief jailor, he bid him farewell, thanking him for his kindnesses, though indeed he had met with little or no kindness or favour from him. Being fastened down upon the hurdle, he was drawn through the streets to the place of execution, having his eyes fixed upon heaven, and his soul in silence attentive to God. Before he came to the gallows, he was met by two ministers, Mr. Bunny and Mr. Pace, who made it their business to affront him, and to persuade the people that he did not die for his religion, but for treason. As soon as he arrived at the place, he cheerfully went up the ladder, and began to pray in silence. They asked him if he prayed for the Queen. He answered. That he had always prayed for her to that day, and as long as he lived would not cease to pray for her; that he willingly acknowledged her for his sovereign, and professed a ready obedience to her in all things which were not inconsistent with the Catholic religion. Then Mr. Bunny stepped out and read aloud to the people the bull of Pius Quintus, by which he had excommunicated the Queen, &c., pretending thereby to prove that Mr. Hart must needs be a traitor, and that the business of his coming over was to withdraw her Majesty’s subjects from their allegiance. Mr. Hart answered, in short, That far from having any such thoughts, he had ever prayed for the Queen's safety and the happy state of the kingdom. But Mr. Pace was particularly troublesome to the holy confessor, continually loading him with reproaches and injuries. To which Mr. Hart made no other reply than this: Good Mr. Pace, he so kind as to let me be quiet this short time I have to live; which he several times repeated. Then lifting up his eyes to heaven, he began the psalm. Ad te levavi oculos meos, etc., but was again interrupted by the ministers calling upon him to join with them in prayer, which he refused to do, telling them. That his faith and theirs was not the same. But he desired the Catholics to pray for him and to bear witness that he died in and for the Catholic faith, and not for any crime whatsoever, or treason against the State. With that he was thrown off the ladder, and according to sentence, was cut down alive and quartered. And though the Lord Mayor and other magistrates, who were present at the execution, sought to hinder the Catholics from carrying home with them any relics of the confessor, yet some there were who, in spite of all their precautions and threats, carried off some of his blood, or fragments of his bones, or pieces of his clothes, which they kept as treasures, — so great was the veneration they had for his virtue and the cause for which he died.

Mr. Hart suffered at York, March 15, 1582-3. He has a place in Mr. Wood's Athence Oxonienses, who acknowledges that he was executed for his character. ‘ This Mr. Hart,' says the Protestant historian, ‘ was hanged, drawn, and quartered for being a Roman priest.’

Dr. Bridgewatei', in his Concertatio, has published several of Mr. Hart's letters, in one of which he gives an account of what had passed in his conferences with the Protestant divines. In the others he encourages his penitents, especially such as were prisoners for their conscience, to constancy; exhorts them to neglect no opportunity of frequenting the sacraments as most powerful means of Divine grace (lamenting that he himself was deprived of that benefit, no priest being allowed to come near him); expresses his ardent desire to be dissolved, and to be with Christ, only regretting that he had not better served so good a Lord; and forbids them to grieve upon his occasion, whose death was to be so great a gain. These letters are nine in all, and are very edifying. Besides which, I have met with a copy of a letter which he wrote to his mother a few days before his death, with which I shall here present the reader.

‘ Most Dear and Loving Mother,

‘ Seeing that by the severity of the laws, by the wickedness of our times, and by God’s holy ordinance and appointment, my days in this life are cut off, of duty and conscience I am bound (being far from you in body, but in spirit very near you) not only to crave your daily blessing, but also to write these few words unto you. You have been a most loving, natural, and careful mother unto me; you have suffered great pains in my birth and bringing up; you have toiled and turmoiled to feed and sustain me, your first and eldest child; and, therefore, for these, and all other your motherly cherishings, I give you (as it becometh me to do) most humble and hearty thanks, wishing that it lay in me to shew myself as loving, natural, and dutiful a son as you have shewed yourself a most tender and careful mother. But I cannot express my love, shew my duty, declare my affection, testify my good-will towards you; so little am I able to do, and so much I think myself bound unto you. I had meant this spring to have seen you if God had granted me my health and liberty; but now never shall I see you, or any of yours, in this life again; trusting yet in heaven to meet you, to see you, and to live everlastingly with you.

‘ Alas! sweet mother, why do you weep? why do you lament? why do you take so heavily my honourable death? Know you not that we are born once to die, and that always in this life we may not live? Know you not how vain, how wicked, how inconstant, how miserable this life of ours is? Do you not consider my calling, my estate, my profession? Do you not remember that I am going to a place of all pleasure and felicity? Why then do you weep? why do you mourn } why do you cry out? But perhaps you will say, I weep not so much for your death as I do for that you are hanged, drawn, and quartered. My sweet mother, it is the favourablest, honourablest, and happiest death that ever could have chanced unto me. I die not for knavery, but for verity; I die not for treason, but for religion; I die not for any ill demeanour or offence committed, but only for my faith, for my conscience, for my priesthood, for my blessed Saviour Jesus Christ; and, to tell you truth, if I had ten thousand lives, I am bound to lose them all rather than to break my faith, to lose my soul, to offend my God. We are not made to eat, drink, sleep, to go bravely, to feed daintily, to live in this wretched vale continually; but to serve God, to please God, to fear God, and to keep His commandments; which when we cannot be suffered to do, then rather must we choose to lose our lives than to desire our lives.

‘ Neither am I alone in this kind of suffering, for there have of late suffered twenty or twenty-two priests, just, virtuous, and learned men, for the self-same cause for the which I do now suffer. You see James Fenn and Body are imprisoned for religion, and I daresay they are desirous to die the same death which I shall die. Be contented, therefore, good mother; stay your weeping, and comfort yourself that you have borne a son that hath lost his life and liberty for God Almighty’s sake, who shed His most precious blood for him. If I did desire or look for prefeiment or promotion, credit or estimation in this world, I could do as others do; but, alas! I pass not for this trish-trash; I contemn this wretched world; I detest the pleasures and commodities thereof, and only desire to be in heaven with God, where I trust I shall be before this my last letter come to you.

‘ Be of good cheer, then, my most loving mother, and cease from weeping, for there is no cause why you should do so. Tell me, for God’s sake, would you not be glad to see me a Bishop, a King, or an Emperor? Yes, verily, I dare say you would. How glad, then, may you be to see me a martyr, a saint, a most glorious and bright star in heaven. The joy of this life is nothing, and the joy of the after life is everlasting; and therefore thrice happy may you think yourself that your son William is gone from earth to heaven, and from a place of all misery to a place of all felicity. I wish that I were near to comfort you, but because that cannot be, I beseech you, even for Christ Jesus's sake, to comfort yourself. You see how God hath brought me up, and how He hath blessed me many ways; a thousand times, then, unhappy should I be if for His sake I should not lose this miserable life to gain that blessed and eternal life wherein He is.

‘ I can say no more, but desire you to be of good cheer, because myself am well. If I had lived, I would have holpen you in your age, as you have holpen me in my youth. But now I must desire God to help you and my brethren, for I cannot. Good mother, be contented with that which God hath appointed for my perpetual comfort; and now, in your old days, serve God after the old Catholic manner. Pray unto Him daily; beseech Him heartily to make you a member of His Church, and that He will save your soul. For Jesus's sake, good mother, serve God. Read that book that I gave you, and die a member of Christ's body, and then one day we shall meet in heaven, by God’s grace.

‘ Recommend me to my father-in-law, to my brethren, to Andrew Gibbon's mother, and to Mrs. Body, and all the rest. Serve

God, and you cannot do amiss. God comfort you. Jesus save your soul, and send you once to heaven. Farewell, good mother, farewell ten thousand times. Out of York Castle^ the loth of March, 1583.

‘ Your most loving and obedient son,

‘ William Hart.’

RICHARD THIRKILL, or THIRKELD, Priest *

He was born at Cunsley, in the bishopric of Durham. Where, or what education he had at home, I have not found; but he seems to have been pretty well advanced in age before he went abroad; for he is called an old man in the account of his death, which was within four years after he was made priest. His education abroad was in the English College of Doway and Rhemes. He was made priest in the year 1579; and as he was coming home from the place where he had been ordained, lifting up his hands to heaven with astonishment, he cried out, O good God! and directing his discourse to one of his companions, God alone knows, said he, how great a gift this is that hath been conferred upon us this day. ‘ He considered,’ says my author, who was one of his intimate friends,

‘ how excellent and singular a gift it was to offer up daily to God, for his own and the whole people’s salvation, the precious blood of Christ, the spotless and undefiled Lamb; and the frequent meditation of this gift produced in his soul that daily increase of Divine love and heavenly courage, that there was now nothing in life he desired more than, in return for what Christ had done for him, to shed also his blood in Christ and for Christ.' My author adds, that he had often heard him say, that for eight whole years he had made it the subject of his prayers that he might one day lay down his life for his faith; which at length was granted him in the following manner.

His mission was chiefly in and about York, where, on the 24th of March, nine days after the execution of Mr. Hart, going by night to visit a Catholic who for his conscience was confined in the prison upon the bridge, he was apprehended upon suspicion of being a priest; Avhich he readily owned, saying, I will never deny my vocation; do with me what you will. He was carried before the|^Lord²

Mayor, and to him also as boldly confessed what he was; who sent him for that night to the house of Standeven^ the High Sheriff, whose first business w^as to find out and plunder his lodging, and seize upon his books. Church stuff, &c. After which he was committed to the Kidcote Prison on the next day, where he remained till the 27th of May, which was the day of his trial. In the mean time, he was twice examined by the Dean of York and three of the Council concerning his character and functions; and he was very free in his answers, only where any other person was concerned. They asked him for what reasons he had gone beyond the seas, and with what design he had returned into England. He answered. That it was for conscience’ sake, that he might serve God the better; and that he had returned into his own country in order' to gain souls to God and His Church; confessing also. That he had said Mass, and performed the rest of the functions of his ministry, as occasion required. They touched also upon the question of the supremacy; but the Dean seemed unwilling to have that matter pressed hom^e. However, Mr. Thirkill signified to them that he thought the spiritual jurisdiction did not belong to her Majesty, but to the Pope.

What were the dispositions of the soul of this holy man in the horror and solitude of his prison, we may learn from his epistles, of which Dr. Bridgewater has published six, all \ery edifying and full of the spirit of the martyrs. Let us hear what he writes in one of them to one of his ghostly children. ‘ The world,’ says he, ‘ dear daughter, begins now to seem insipid, and all its pleasures grow bitter as gall, and all the fine shews and delights it affords appear quite empty and good for nothing. Now it is seen that there is no true joy, no object, no agreeable pleasure, that can afford any solid delight, but one alone, and that is Christ. I experience now that the greatest pleasure, joy, and comfort is in conversing with Him; that all time thus employed is short, sweet, and delightful; and those words that in this conversation He speaks to me so penetrate my soul, so elevate my spirit above itself, so moderate and change all fleshly affections, that this prison of mine seem.s not a prison, but a paradise; my crosses become light and easy, and the being deprived of all earthly comforts affords a heavenly joy and happiness. O happy prison*! O blessed confinement 1 O solitude full of comfort I O goal a long time desired I where hast thou stayed so long? O crosses 1 where have you been all this while } O solitude I why didst thou not suffer me to relish thy sweetness sooner? But, wretch as I am 1 I see it was my unworthiness (which is still as great as ever) that hitherto kept me from such an honour; that my being so propense to vice would not suffer me to attain to so great a blessing as these crosses; that my iniquity and sins have, with good reason, delayed and hindered my being promoted to so happy a state as this solitude. These jewels of so great a price, all these riches the great God has been pleased to confer upon me here in my prison; all which I ascribe to Him, and acknowledge to be His gift. His mercy. His love; attributing nothing to myself. To Him therefore be all praise, honour, and glory, for so unspeakable a benefit bestowed upon this poor, wretched, and altogether undeserving servant.’ So he.

The day of his trial he was led from the Kidcote to the Castle, guarded by the Sheriff and his men. He was dressed in his cassock, which made him appear more venerable; and his countenance, air, and behaviour expressed so much courage and constancy, joined with such sweetness and modesty, as both ravished and astonished the beholders. When he was brought to the bar, so great was the press of the people crowding to see him, that my author complains he could not hear the particulars of his trial and answers; but the issue was, that he was found guilty of the indictment, from the answers he had before returned when he was under examination, particularly because he had confessed his having sacramentally absolved and reconciled the Queen’s subjects to the Church of Rome. The jury having brought in their verdict, Mr. Thirkill was carried back to the Castle, and put down into the condemned hold amongst the felons, yet so that he had an opportunity of calling upon the Catholic prisoners to pray for him, and to assure them. It was a great pleasure to him to suffer for so good a cause ^ for which, if he had a thousand lives, he would willingly lay them all down.

He passed the whole night in instructing the malefactors and disposing them to die well; and on the next morning, being the 28th of May, at eight o’clock, he was again ordered before the judges. Four Catholic prisoners, who were to make their appearance at the bar that same morning, took the opportunity, as they passed by him, to beg his prayers and his blessing, which he gave them. A good old woman, who was likewise summoned to appear there for the profession of her faith, was still more courageous; for coming up to him at the bar, and kneeling down, she asked his blessing in open court, which Mr. Thirkill, graciously smiling, immediately gave her, and defended what he had done against some upon the bench (who pretended chat in giving his blessing he had usurped the prerogative of C/im/), maintaining that in his quality of a minister of God he had a power from Him to bless in His name.

F

My author, who seems to have been an eye-witness of what passed on this occasion, tells us that at first Mr. Thirkill, coming up to the bar, and leaning over it with his face towards the judges, seemed to the spectators to be fixed in contemplation; but when the other Catholics were called upon by name, and arraigned for recusancy, he turned a little back to hear what they would answer. Amongst the rest, a gentleman of good note was brought to the bar, together with his lady, both arraigned for not going to church (on which account they were both afterwards cast into prison). This gentleman, being sick and weak, did not answer so loud as to be well heard by the court; upon which one cried out. He looks at the priest; and another, a gentleman on the bench, said. This is the traitor who has persuaded him to all this. Upon which a third, w'ho was also one of the bench, and a kinsman of the gentleman, said, Cousin., I heg you would think seriously on the matter; now is the time, before the jury bring in their verdict: your submission afterwards will come too late. Dond wilfully fling away your goods and possessions: adding, at the same time, If this traitor of a p7'iest were not here, no doubt but my cousin would be much more tractable. Here Mr. Thirkill spoke: 'Tis better, said he, to cast away one's goods than to run the risk of losing one's sold. Then turning to the gentleman. Let your goods go, said he; stick you close to God, and with great courage confess His holy name. And whereas the judges commanded him to be silent, he told them. It was an exceeding great joy and pleasure to him to see the courage and constancy of these Catholics in maintaining so good a cause, and that it was his duty to exhort and encourage them on these occasions.

Upon this, one of the judges, calling upon him by his name, said, Richard Thirkill, come up to the bar. What can you say for yourself why sentence of death should not be pronounced upon you, as you have been here arraigned and found guilty of high treason? Mr. Thirkill replied. That he had yesterday brought five reasons out of the holy Fathers, by which he had demonstrated that he was not guilty of high treason — [viz., in his exercising the power of the keys in absolving sinners;^ but these reasons were not regarded, and the judge immediately proceeded to pronounce sentence; by which he was. To be carried back to the place from whence he came, and from thence to be drawn to the place of execution, and there hanged, cut down alive, dismembered, bowelled, and quartered. Which sentence, as soon as the confessor had heard, falling on his knees, he gave most hearty thanks to God, and pronounced aloud these words, Hcec dies quam fecit Dominus, etc. — This is the day which the Lord has made; let us be glad and rejoice therein. Then, that his presence might no longer encourage the other Catholics, he was hurried out of the court and thrust into the lowest dungeon in the Castle.

On the next day he was drawn from the Castle to the place of execution, where he suffered according to sentence, though, as to the particulars of his words and actions there, my author complains he could not get any certain account of them, such care was taken to prevent the Catholics and the rest of the people from being present at his death, guards being set for that purpose at the gates, the Lord Mayor having ordered that day a general meeting of the citizens under pretence of making a proper choice for the militia. However, my author was assured by persons of credit that he was cut down alive according to the letter of the sentence; and that the faithful might not gather up any of his blood, they had ordered a great fire of straw to be made upon the place to consume all in such a manner that nothing of it might be found.

He suffered at York, the 29th of May, 1583. He is called Thrilkill by Dr. Bridgewater and Bishop Yepez, and Thrilkeld by Cardinal Allen in his Answer to the book called The Execution of Justice in England, or, Justitia Britannica.

JOHN SLADE, SCHOOLMASTER, and JOHN BODY, M.A *

These two are commonly joined together, because they were tried and condemned at the same time and for the same cause, though they neither suffered at the same place nor on the same day. Mr. Stow makes mention of them in his Chronicle of 1583; ‘ John Slade, schoolmaster,’ says he, ‘ and John Body, Master of Arts, being both condemned of high treason for maintaining of Roman power, were drawn, hanged, bowelled, and quartered.’

Mr. Slade was born in Dorsetshire; and, after his education at home in grammar learning, he became a schoolmaster, as we learn from Mr. Stow, above quoted. Mr. Body was born in the city of Wells, in Somersetshire; his father was a wealthy merchant there, and had been Mayor of the town. He was brought up in New College, Oxford, where he took his degree of Master in Arts, and³ for some time studied the canon and civil law; but not liking the established religion, he went over to Doway College, the common refuge in those days of such as left England for the Catholic cause. There he arrived May i, 1577, and was for some time a convictor in that house. After his return home, both he and Mr. Slade were so zealous in maintaining the old religion that they were apprehended upon that account by the enemies of their faith, and prosecuted upon the article of the supremacy. My manuscript lays their death at the door of Couper, Bishop of Winchester, as particularly busy in procuring their condemnation; but if Heylin's Chronology, in his Help to English History, be exact, by which he makes Couper to have entered upon the bishopric only in 1584, he could not have prosecuted them in 1583, at least not in quality of Bishop of Winchester.

They were both arraigned together at Winchester, and there tried and condemned; and what was very singular in their case is, that they were twice at different times sentenced to death upon the same indictment; which Cardinal Allen, in his answer to Justitia Britannica, chap, i., imputes to a consciousness in their prosecutors of the first sentence having been unjust and illegal. The whole and sole cause of their condemnation was that they denied the Queen’s spiritual supremacy and maintained that of the Pope, as appears from the account of their trial and execution, published by a Protestant and an eye-witness.

They both suffered with great constancy. Mr. Slade was hanged, drawn, and quartered at Winchester, October 30; Mr. Body at Andover, November 2, 1583. My manuscript relates that, as he was drawn along the streets on a hurdle, his head being in danger of being hurt by the stones, an honest old man, pitying him, offered him his cap, in part to save his head; which Mr. Body with thanks refused, adding withal, that he was just now going to give his head, life, and all, for his Saviour’s sake. Cardinal Allen also informs us, from the printed history of his execution, that Mr. Kingsmell having called upon him at the gallows to confess the crime for which he was condemned, that the people might know the cause for which he died, Mr. Body, after he had professed his obedience and fidelity to the Queen in all civil matters, spoke thus to the people: Be it known, ’said he,‘ to all you that are here present, that I suffer death this day because I deny the Queen to be the supreme head of the Church of Christ in England. I never committed any other treason, unless they will have hearing Mass or saying the Hail Mary to be treason. His mother, as my manuscript relates, hearing afterwards of her son’s

GEORGE HAYDOCK happy death, made a great feast upon that occasion, to which she invited her neighbours, rejoicing at his death as his marriage, by which his soul was happily and eternally espoused to the Lamb.

I find also amongst those that suffered this year, 1583, in an old catalogue kept in Doway College, the name of William Chaplam^ priest, of whom it is there said, Obiit in vinculis, that he died in bonds or in prison. He was made priest at Rhemes in 1581. •

Footnotes

1. Bd. William Hart. — From Bridgewater’s Concertatio, fol. 104; and from the Douay Records; see also Lives of E. M., I. ii. ↩

2. Bd. Richard Thirkill, or Thirkeld. — From Bridgewater’s Concertatio, fol. 1 16; and from the Diary or Journal of Douay College; see 2l\so Lives of E. M., II. i. ↩

3. Ven. John Slade and John Body, M.A. — From a Douay MS. and other Memoirs; see also Lives of E. M., III. i., and Acts of E. M. ↩