The Year 1591

This year the persecution, which had something relented, began again to rage as much as ever. The first that felt the fury of it was Mr. Robert Thorp, priest {Ribadeneira, being a stranger to the English names, calls him Therfeus), and his harbourer, Mr. Watkinson.

ROBERT THORP, Priest, and THOMAS WATKINSON, Layman.¹

Robert thorp was bom in Yorkshire, and was an alumnus and priest of Doway College during its residence at Rhemes, from whence he was sent upon the English mission. May 9, 1585. He employed his labours in Yorkshire, his native country. Dr. Champney, who was acquainted with him, writes as follows: — ‘ This holy priest, whom I knew in my younger days, and to whom I have often confessed my sins, had laboured for a long time and with very great fruit in the vineyard of the Lord. He was a man of low stature, of infirm health, and but indifferent in point of learning, but of great devotion and piety; and though he was naturally timorous and weak, yet he suffered death for the Catholic faith with great constancy and fortitude.’

The manner of his apprehension is thus related by the Lady Babthorpe, who then lived in that country, but after her husband’s decease became a nun at Louvain. ‘ To my remembrance,’ says she, ‘ it is twenty-nine years since we were committed to SheriffHutton Castle. The President (of the North) was then the Earl of Huntingdon, and the Archbishop’s name was Piers, who had been a priest. And for the manner of Mr. Thorp's taking and death, I can remember no more but that on a Palm Sunday's evening,’ rather on the eve of Palm Sunday^ ‘ he was by an evil neighbour seen to go into Thomas Watkinson's house; or, as some said, that neighbour saw some of Thomas Watkinson's servants get palms, which was sufficient to assure them that he had a priest in his house; for they knew well that priests used much to come to his house, but they could not be sure of the time. So now thinking they were sure of one, they went with speed to one Mr. John Gates, a justice of peace living in Houldone, some three miles off — one who was always ready on such evil employments — who, with his company, came so early on Palm Sunday in the morning, that, as I heard, they took them in their beds, and carried them away to York, where they were martyred. The manner of their deaths I remember not, only this, that the good old man, {Watkinson,) was offered his life if he would go to church, which he refusing, was martyred with the priest.

This Thomas Watkinson, who suffered with Mr. Thorp, was a yeoman of Menthorpe, in Yorkshire, a good religious Catholic, who lived a kind of solitary life, and afforded what aid and assistance he could to the missioners. He suffered with great constancy, though naturally he was also timorous, and now advanced in years.

Mr. Thorp was condemned merely upon account of his priesthood, and Mr. Watkinson merely for harbouring priests. The former was hanged, drawn, and quartered; the latter only hanged.

They suffered at York, May 31, 1591.

MONFORD SCOT and GEORGE BEESLEY,

Priests,

MONFORD, or MONTFORD SCOT was born of a gentleman’s family, in the diocese of Norwich, and was far advanced in his studies before he left England, which was in the year 1574, at which time he was admitted by Dr. Allen into the College lately instituted at Doway, and there applied himself to the study of divinity. He was one of the eldest sons of that fruitful mother, and stands the nineteenth in the list of her priests, according to the order of their ordination, and the thirty-first in the list of missioners²

1591] MONFORD SCOT AND GEORGE BEESLEY sent from thence into England. He was made priest in 1575, and sent upon the mission in 1577, before the removal of the College to Rhemes. Dr. Chafnpney gives him this character: — ‘ He was,’ says he, ‘ a man of wonderful meekness, and of so great abstinence and devotion, that his diet on common days was bread and water, and he would take but little more on Sundays and holidays; and so addicted was he to prayer, that he spent whole days and nights almost in this exercise, insomuch that his knees were grown hard by the assiduity of his prayers, as is related of St. James; which, when one of the standers by perceived, whilst his body was quartered, he said aloud, / should be glad to see any one of our ministers with their knees as much hardened by constant prayer as we see this man's knees are. And so great and so general was the veneration that this holy priest had acquired, that Topcliffey that noted persecutor, loudly boasted that the Queen and kingdom were highly obliged to him for having apprehended and brought to the gallows a priest so devout and so mortified. He was prosecuted and condemned barely upon account of his character, and was hanged, bowelled, and quartered on the 2d oijuly^ 1591, in Fleet Street. He suffered with wonderful constancy, and no less modesty and spiritual joy, to the great edification of the spectators, and the admiration even of the greatest enemies of his faith and character.’

George Beesley^ priest, suffered at the same time and place, and with the like constancy, alacrity, and edification of the faithful. He was born at a place called the Mounts in Goosenor parish, in Lancashire, and was an alumnus and priest of Doway College during its residence at Rhemes. He was ordained priest in 1587, and sent upon the English mission in 1588. He was a man of singular courage, young, strong, and robust, before he fell into the hands of the persecutors; but whilst he was in their hands, he was so frequently and cruelly tortured by the unhappy Topcliffe, in order to oblige him to confess what Catholics he had conversed with, and by whom he had been harboured or relieved, that he was reduced to a mere skeleton, insomuch that they who before were acquainted with him could scarce know him to be the same man when they saw him drawn to execution. Yet all these torments he endured with invincible courage and patience, and would not be induced to name any one or bring any one into danger on his account. He was condemned merely for his priestly character and remaining in England contrary to the statute of Elizabeth 27; and was hanged, bowelled, and quartered in Fleet Street, July 2. Some say that the servant of the inn where he was apprehended was executed at the same time for aiding and assisting him. Mr. Beesley left behind him a brother of the same character, who for many years after laboured in the Lord’s vineyard.

ROGER DICONSON or DICKENSON, Priest.^

Roger D icons on (whom Ribadeneira calls De Kinsonio, from which some have given him the name of Kinson) was born at Lincoln ^ and was an alumnus and priest of the English College, then residing at Rhemes. He was ordained priest at Laon in April, 1583, and sent upon the mission the 4th of May the same year. The particulars of his missionary labours, apprehension, and trial I have not found, only that he was condemned merely on account of his priesthood, and suffered -as in cases of high treason by hanging, drawing, and quartering with a constancy worthy of the cause for which he died.

He was executed at Winchester, July 7, 1591.

Ralph Milner, layman, suffered at the same time and place for relieving the said Mr. Diconson. He was born at Flacsted, in Hampshire, and had a wife and eight children living at the time of his condemnation. The judge, as it were out of pity, advised him to go but once to church, that by this condescension he might escape the ignominious death of the gallows and live for the good of his family; but Mr. Milner answered with true Christian fortitude. Would your lordship then advise me, for the perishable trifles of this world, or for a wife and children, to lose my God? No, my lord, I cannot approve or embrace a counsel so disagreeable to the maxims of the gospel. He was executed, therefore, according to sentence, and suffered with extraordinary courage and constancy.

At the same assizes were also condemned seven maiden gentlewomen of good families, for having received Mr. Diconson into their houses to say Mass to them. But the judge, who thought they would be sufficiently terrified by the sentence of death, gave them a reprieve, and so ordered them back to prison; at which they all burst out into tears, and begged. That the sentence of death pronounced against them might be put in execution, and that they might die with their ghostly father and pastor, it being just that, as³

ROGER DICONSON they had a share in his supposed guilty so they should be also sharers in his punishment — adding withal, That they trusted in God that He^ who had given them the grace to do what they had done^ would also strengthen them to suffer death with courage and constancy for the holy Catholic faith.

Some time this year, 1591 (the particular day or month I have not found), William Pikes, a layman, suffered at Dorchester as in cases of high treason for being reconciled to the Church of Rome and denying the Queen’s spiritual supremacy. He was, as I learn from a written relation of the Rev. Mr. Manger's, born in Dorsetshire, and dwelt in a village called Moors, in the parish of Parley, four or five miles from Christchurch, in Hampshire. He was hanged, cut down alive, bowelled, and quartered. ‘ Being cut down all alive,’ says a manuscript relation in my hands, ‘ and being a very able, strong man, when the executioner came to throw him on the block to quarter him, he stood upon his feet; whereupon the Sheriff’s men, overmastering him, threw him down, and pinned his hands fast to the ground with their halberts, and so the butchery was perfected.

This year, on the 29th of November, a new proclamation was published against the Catholics, as if the laws hitherto made, and all the fines, imprisonments, banishments, and deaths suffered in consequence of those laws had not been sufficient. Of this proclamation, Cecil Lord Burleigh was supposed to be the author.

EDMUND GENINGS, alias IRONMONGER,

Priest.⁴

Edmund GENINGS (whom stow in his Chronicle calls Ironmonger, from the name under which he concealed himself upon the mission) was born at Lichfield, in Staffordshire, in the year 1567, and was brought up in the Protestant religion. From his very infancy he was wonderfully grave, and took no delight in the childish plays of those of his age, ‘ but greatly loved,’ says his brother, p. 17, ‘ to behold the heavens; and therefore he usually went forth in the evening to delight himself with the sight of the skies bedecked with stars. And on a time, in these his tender years, going forth at night according to his custom, this strange spectacle appeared to him in the air: He saw, as it were, armed men with weapons killing and murdering others that were disarmed, and great store of blood running everywhere about them.

‘ This strange sight put him into a great fear, which caused him to run in hastily to tell his mother, who w^as then a widow, what he had seen, and she presently went forth with three or four of her neighbours, and they were all eye-witnesses of the same spectacle. Thus much I myself have heard them report, who also affirmed that myself was then present, but, being very young, I cannot remember it. This happened in the beginning of our chiefest persecution, not long before the glorious death of Father Campion and the rest.’

When he was about the age of sixteen, he was recommended by his schoolmaster (w^onderfully taken with his docility and modesty) to Mr. Richard Sherwood, a Catholic gentleman, to serve him in quality of his page. In this service he learned from his master, who was a gentleman much persecuted for his conscience, the Catholic religion; and not long after, when he was little more than seventeen years of age, Mr. Shei'wood having determined to cross the seas and consecrate himself to God in an ecclesiastical state (as he afterwards did, being made priest at Rhemes, 2iS> appears by the College Diary, in 1584, and sent upon the mission the 2d of August that same year with Mr. Robert Dihdale), Mr. Genings, finding in himself a strong call to the same kind of life, with earnest and repeated entreaties obtained to be sent over to Rhemes, where the College then resided, with recommendations to Dr. Allen, then president there, afterwards Cardinal.

No sooner was he received into the College, but, with all diligence and alacrity he applied himself to his studies; but, above all, to the study of the science of the saints, the fear and love of God, in which he made great progress, to the satisfaction of his superiors, one of whom has given him in writing a character to this effect: ‘ Edmund Genings was provident and wise in counsel, humble in obedience, devout in Christ, strong in faith, prompt in good works, most true and sincere in his w^ords, remarkable in his goodness, excellent in charity. He was often afflicted and sick; he suffered all patiently; there was ever in him a discretion in all his actions, and a love towards all, worthy of imitation.’

He was of a very weak constitution of body, and by the extraordinary pains he took, partly in his studies and partly in his spiritual exercises, he fell into a great sickness, which was followed by a continual ague and other infirmities, which at length brought him into a most dangerous consumption, insomuch that the physicians despaired of his recovery. This determined the president to send him into England^ to try if the change of air might do him any service. He left Rhemes not without great regret, and went on his journey as far as Havre de Grace, in Normandy, being recommended to two 01 three banished English priests who were there, who, after one fortnight of his s^ay in that place, procured him a passage in a ship bound for London, and provided him all things necessary for his journey. When, behold! on a sudden, Mr. Genings, who was very unwilling to risk himse.lf amongst his Protestant relations, not having yet finished his studies and attained to the order of priesthood, which he was so desirous of, and therefore had heartily prayed to God for the recovery of his health, desires of these good gentlemen, who had been witnesses, during his abode with them, of the divers grievous assaults of his illness which he had suffered, to have a little longer patience with him, and not to insist, as they did, upon his going on board, for that he felt himself very much better, and almost as well as ever he was in his life. They condescended to his desires, and found him in effect so suddenly and so wonderfully changed, that, on the very next day he was not only able to eat his meat with a good appetite, but also to go a good long walk, and give such other tokens of health, as appeared not a little extraordinary. This sudden recovery of his was esteemed miraculous, upon which he returned to Rhemes, and there took up again, though wdth a greater fervour than ever, the course of life which his sickness had obliged him to interrupt, ever aspiring to the sacred order of priesthood, by which he might be qualified to assist the souls of his neighbours, and return to his own country to meet there with the crown of martyrdom. His common expression, as his brother relates from the testimony of his fellow collegians, as often as occasion w^as offered of talking of England and martyrdom there, being this, Vivamus in spe, vivamus in spe! — Let us live in hope, let us live in hope!

The superiors of the College, considering his fervour, procured a dispensation from Rome that he might be made priest before his time, being but twenty-three years of age. The preparation he made for worthily receiving this holy order was very great, and the impression which his meditations on the dignity of the priesthood and the greatness of the charge, &c., made upon his mind, was so strong that it produced a wonderful effect in his very body, of a shaking as it were a palsy, which continued with him to his dying day. At this time, for his greater exercise of humility, patience, and charity, he was made prefect of the infirmary, in which office he so laboured about the sick students, even in the meanest services, that he was called the very pattern of piety and humility. He was ordained priest, extra tempora (by an indult granted to the College by Gregory XIII.), at Soissons, March 18, 1590, together with Mr. Alexander Rawlins, who suffered at York in 1595, and he was sent upon the English mission by Dr. Barret, then President of the College, on the 9th of April following, in the company of the same Mr. Rawlins and Mr. Hugo Sewel. In their way they met with a party of Huguenots belonging to the garrison of Crippy, who robbed them, and stripped them, and carried them into that town, the governor of which, as Mr. Genings writes to Dr. Barret, April 17, from Abbeville, treated them very ill, threatened them with death, and thrust them into a dark dungeon, where they remained from Tuesday till Thursday night. ‘ But we,' says he, ‘ despised their threats, rejoicing that we sujfered these cruelties from them, for the self-same causes for which we shall suffer death in England, if God gives us strength, so that neither the prison nor the want of meat, clothes, or bed any ways terrified us. On Thursday in the evening, after we had eat nothing that day but a little black bread, we had our papers restored to us, and we were put out of the town, and about ten o'clock at night we arrived at the suburbs of La Fere, God Almighty showing us the way, which we knew not. When we had here rested our wearied bodies, the next day the governor of La Fere gave us a crown, and sent us away in peace; and now we are at Abbeville.’ So far Mr. Genings in his letter to Dr. Barret, recorded in the Doway Diary.

He and his companions embarked at Treport, on the coast of Normandy, in a French vessel, the master of which promised to set them ashore in the night on the English coast. They landed near Whitby, in Yorkshire, on the side of a high cliff, with great danger of their lives; and when they came into the town to refresh themselves, they found in the inn one Ratcliff e, a pursuivant, who suspected them, and put them many questions concerning their arrival thither. But their time was not yet come, and God delivered them out of his hands, and conducted them safe to a Catholic gentleman’s house within two or three miles of Whitby. And here they parted from one another; and Mr. Genings, after half a year’s stay in the northern parts of the kingdom, going to Lichfield, his native city, in order to gain there the souls of his nearest relations, found that most of his friends and kindred were dead, except one brother whom he heard to be in London, but in what part of the town he could not learn. But as he understood the state of his soul to be at that time very bad, his charity determined him to go up to London to seek after this strayed sheep. Here, for a whole month, he left no place untried where he could suspect his brother might be; but still not finding him, and having now no hopes of meeting with him, he resolved to leave the town for a time, when, behold! God Almighty brought him to the sight of his brother — though at first without knowing him — and that in a strange manner. ‘ And thus it was,’ [says this brother in his Life, p. 54,] ‘ as I have heard from his own mouth.

‘ Having, as I have said, a determination to leave London for a while, he walked forth of his inn one morning (certain days before he had purposed to travel) to visit a friend of his on the other side of the city; and passing by St. PauVs Churchy when he was on the east side thereof, he suddenly felt a great alteration in his body, insomuch as his face glowed, and, as he thought, his hair stood on end, and all his joints trembling for fear, his whole body seemed to be bathed in a cold sweat. This strange accident causing him to fear some evil to be imminent towards him, or danger of taking, he looked back to see if he could perceive any body pursuing him, but seeing nobody near but only a youth in a brown coloured cloak, making no reflection who it should be, he went forward to his intended place to say Mass that day. Not long after, on the very morning before he purposed to depart out of the town, the blessed man, recollecting himself in his devotions, seriously prayed that his departure without finding his desired brother might increase his patience; and although it afflicted him very much, yet he cried out. Fiat voluntas tua — My will is Thy will^ sweet Lord^ Thy will be done. His devotions being finished, he went abroad to another place, where he had promised to celebrate Mass that day before his departure; which done, as he was returning homewards towards his inn, upon Ludgate Hill, suddenly, as he was going, he felt the same motions as he had done the time before; and as the lamb naturally feareth the ravening wolf, so his innocency fearing the worst, looked back to see who followed him: and behold, no man of mark but a youth in a brown cloak, and at the same instant reflecting on the time past when he suffered the like agitation, and steadfastly viewing the young man (whom he had left a little boy in the country, and had not seen for eight or nine years), he was struck with this thought. This may he my brother. Upon this he approached the youth, and courteously saluting him, inquired what countryman he was; and hearing that he was a Stajfordshire man, civilly demanded his name, who made answer his name was Genings^ — by which he knew he certainly was his brother, so long sought after. Then casting an eye towards heaven, by way of love and thanks, smiling upon the party, he told him. He was his kinsman and was called Ironmonger, and asked him what was become of his brother Edmund. The youth, not suspecting him to be the man, told him He had heard he was gone to Rome to the Pope, and was become a notable Papist and a traitor both to God and his country, and that if he did return he would be hanged infallibly. Mr. Edmund hearing this, and smiling at the boy’s folly, told him. That he had heard his brother was a very honest man, and loved both the Queen and his country, but God above all. But tell me, said he, good cousin John, do you not know him if you see him? To which John answered. No. But beginning to suspect that he was his brother and a priest, told him. He could not tell what he was, but that he greatly feared he had a brother a Papist priest, and that he was the man — swearing withal. That if it was so, he would discredit himself and all his friends; and protesting. That in this he would never follow him, although in other matters he would greatly respect himi*

In a word, Mr. Edmund upon this occasion discovered himself to his brother, though not telling him that he was a priest, but did not find in him any present dispositions towards his conversion; neither was it a proper time or place to treat upon that subject. Therefore, taking his leave of him, he promised to see him again after his return out of the country, and then to impart to him some affairs of great consequence. But the conversion of his brother was to be the fruit of his martyrdom, which, after labouring for some short time in preaching, catechising, and performing his other priestly functions in the country, he came to meet with in London, as we shall now see.

It was on the yth of November, 1591, Mr. Genings returned to London, and met that evening, in a Catholic house in Holborn, Mr. Poly dor e Plasden, a very virtuous and godly priest, and a fellow collegian of his at Rhemes; and treating with him where they should say Mass the next day, it being the Octave of All Saints, they concluded to say their matins together, and to celebrate the next morning at the house of Mr. Swithin Wells, and acquainted some friends with this design. Here, on the next day, Mr. Genings being at the consecration, and Mr. Plasden [and Mr. White,] priests, Mr. Brian Lacy, gtnt.,John Mason, and Sydney Hodgson, laymen, Mrs. Wells and others being present, Topcliffe, the arch-priest-catcher, with other officers, came in and broke open the chamber door where he was celebrating. Upon this occasion, the gentlemen before named arising from their devotions, thought proper to oppose force to force, so to prevent the profanation of the sacred mysteries: and one of the laymen seeing Mr. Topclijfe obstinately bent upon coming in, run upon him to thrust him down stairs, and in the struggle fell with him. In the meantime, Mr. Plasden^ having appointed the rest to keep the broken door, went to the altar and bid Mr. Genings go forward and finish the Mass. Then, returning to the door, and seeing Mr. Topclijfe hastening up with a broken head, and fearing he would raise the whole street, to pacify him, told him. He should come in presently^ and they would all yield themselves up his prisoners; which they did as soon as the Mass was ended: when Topclijfe and the rest, rushing in, took Mr. Genings as he was in his vestments, and all the rest, men and women, to the number of about ten, with their church stuff, books, <Sfc., and carried them to Newgate; who were, shortly after, all examined by Justice Yonge, and returned to prison to take their trials next sessions. Mr. Wells, who was absent when this happened, at his return finding his house ransacked and his wife carried away to prison, went forthwith to Justice Yonge, to expostulate with him about the matter, and to demand his wife and the keys of his lodging. But the justice, without more ado, sent him to bear the rest company, with a pair of iron bolts on his legs; and examining him the next day in Newgate, upon his answering. That he was not indeed privy to the Mass being said in his house, hut wished he had been present, thinking his house highly honoured by having so divine a sacrifice offered therein, the justice told him that, though he was not at the feast, he should taste of the sauce.

On the 4th of December, Mr. Genings and all the rest were brought upon their trial, and a jury was impanelled to find them all guilty; and yet all they could prove against them was no more than that one of them had said Mass in Mr. Wells's house and the rest had heard the said Mass. Many bitter words and scoffs were used by the judges and others upon the bench, particularly to Mr. Genings, because he was very young, and had angered them with disputes. And the more to make him a scoff to the people, they vested him, not now in his priestly garments (in which they had before carried him through the streets), but in a ridiculous fool’s coat, which they found in Mr. Wells's house. In conclusion, the next day the jury brought in their verdict, by which the three priests were all found guilty of high treason for returning into the realm contrary to the statute of 27 Elizabeth, and all the rest of felony for aiding and assisting to the priests; and it was appointed that they should all die at Tyburn, except Mr. Genings and Mr. Wells, who were to be executed before Mr. Wellses own door in Gray's Inn Fields. The judges, after pronouncing sentence, began to persuade them to conform to the Protestant religion, assuring them that by so doing they should obtain mercy, but otherwise they must certainly expect to die. But they all bravely answered. That they would live and die in the true Roman Catholic faiths which they and all antiquity had ever professed^ and that they would by no means go to the Protestant churches, or once think that the Queen could be the head of the Church in spirituals.

At their return to Newgate, the three priests were cast into the dungeon; and whilst they were there. Justice Yonge, Mr. Topcliffe, and others twice or thrice came to the prison, and calling for Mr. Genings, promised him both life and liberty if he would go to their church and renounce his religion, giving him also hopes of a living and promotion in that case; but they found him still constant and resolute; with which they being highly offended, put him into a dark hole within the prison, where he could not so much as see his own hands, nor get up or down without hazard of breaking his neck. Here he remained in prayer and contemplation, without any food or sustenance, till the hour of his death.

On the loth of December, at eight in the morning, Mr. Plasden, Mr. White, &c., were carried to Tyburn and there executed; Mrs. Wells, to her great grief, was reprieved, and died in prison. Mr. Genings and Mr. Wells were brought, according to sentence, to Gray's Inn Fields, over against Mr. Wells's door, to suffer there; where, after a few speeches of some ministers that were there present, Mr. Genings was taken off the sled, and, like St. Andrew, joyfully saluted the gibbet prepared for him. ‘ Being put upon the ladder (p. 84), many questions were asked him by some standers by, whereto he still answered directly. At length Mr. Topcliffe cried out with a loud voice, Genings, Genings, confess thy fault, thy Popish treason, and the Queen by submission no doubt will grant thee pardon. To which he mildly answered, I know not, Mr. Topcliffe, in what I have offended my dear anointed Princess; for if I had offended her, or any other, in any thing, I would willingly ask her and all the world forgiveness. If she be offended with me without a cause, for professing my faith and religion, because I am a priest, or because I will not turn minister against my conscience, I shall be, I trust, excused and innocent before God. I must obey God, saith St. Peter, rather than men, (Acts V.); and I must not in this case acknowledge a fault where there is none. If to return into England priest, or to say Mass, be Popish treason, I here confess I am a traitor; but I think not so, and therefore

/ acknowledge myself guilty of these things, not with repentance or sorrow of heart, but with an open protestation of inward joy that I have done so good deeds; which, if they were to do again, I would, by the permission and assistance of God, accomplish the same, although with the hazard of a thousand lives.'

Mr. Topcliffe being very angry at this speech, scarce giving him liberty to say a Pater Noster, bid the hangman turn the ladder, which being done, he presently caused the rope to be cut. The holy priest, being little or nothing stunned, stood on his feet, casting his eyes towards heaven till the hangman tripped up his heels to make him fall on the block on which he was to be quartered. After he was dismembered, the violence of the pain caused him to utter these words with a loud voice, Oh, it smarts! which Mr. Wells hearing, replied, Alas! sweet sold, thy pain is great indeed, but almost past; pray for me now, most holy saint, that mine may come. After he was ripped up, and his bowels cast into the fire, ‘ if credit may be given,’ says his brother, [p. 86,] ‘ to hundreds] of people standing by, and to the hangman himself, the blessed martyr (his heart being in the executioner’s hand) uttered these words, Sancte Gregori ora pro me;

which the hangman hearing, swore a most wicked oath, Z ds!

see, his heart is in my hand, and yet Gregory is in his mouth. O egregious Papist!'

Amongst many Catholics that were present at his execution, there was a devout virgin, who had wholly dedicated herself to the service of God, who had a great desire to get, if possible, some little part of his flesh or of his blood to keep as a relic; but not being able to come near the gibbet for the crowd, she followed his quarters as they were carried back again to Newgate to be boiled; when many running to see them before they were carried up to boiling, to satisfy their curiosity. Bull, the hangman, took up one of the fore-quarters by the arm, which, when he had shewed to the people, he flung down carelessly into the basket again, so that both the hand and arm hung out over the sides of the basket; which the said virgin seeing, drew^ near to touch it, and laying hold of his anointed thumb, by a secret instinct gave it a little pull, only to shew her love and desire of having it, when, behold! to her great surprise, the thumb was instantly separated from the rest of the hand, and remained in her hand, which she carried off without being taken notice of by any one.

This young gentlewoman, presently after this miraculous acquisition, took a resolution to renounce entirely the world and all its vanities, and going beyond the seas with this her relic, became a nun of the Order of St. Augustine, and hearing of this martyr’s own brother, says my author, speaking of himself (p. 94), living in the Seminary of Doway^ sent him, for a token, a little piece of the same thumb enclosed in a letter written with her own hand, protesting the verity of all the aforesaid narration.

But the most wonderful event that followed Mr. Genings' death was the sudden conversion of this same brother, which he, speaking of himself in the third person, thus relates, p. 98, &c.: — ‘ This martyr’s brother, called John Genings, being in London at the very time of his brother’s apprehension, condemnation, and execution, hearing of the same, rather rejoiced than any way bewailed the untimely and bloody end of his nearest kinsman, hoping thereby to be rid of all persuasions, which he mistrusted he should receive from him touching the Catholic religion, [having been brought up, as he tells his readers a little above, in great prejudices to Catholics, and rather inclined to Puritanism.] But about ten days after his execution, towards night, having spent all that day in sport and jollity, being weary with play, he resorted home, where, to repose himself, he went into a secret chamber. He was no sooner there set down, but forthwith his heart began to be heavy, and he began to weigh how idly he had spent that day. Amidst these thoughts there presently was represented to his mind a strange imagination and apprehension of the death of his brother, and amongst other things, how he had not long before forsaken all worldly pleasures, and, for his religion only, endured intolerable torments. Then within himself he made long discourses concerning his religion and his brother’s, comparing the Catholic manner of living with his, and finding the one to embrace pain and mortification, and the other to seek pleasure; the one to live strictly, and the other licentiously; the one to fear sin, the other to run into all kinds of sin. Upon this, being struck with exceeding terror and remorse, he wept bitterly, desiring God, after his fashion, to illuminate his understanding that he might see and perceive the truth. Oh! what great joy and consolation did he feel at that instant; what reverence on the sudden did he begin to bear to the Blessed Virgin and to the Saints of God, which before he had never scarce heard tell of; what strange motions, as it were inspirations, with exceeding readiness of will to change his religion, took possession of his soul; and what a heavenly conceit had he now of his dear brother’s felicity! He imagined he saw him; he thought he heard him. In this ecstasy of mind, he made a vow upon the spot, as he lay prostrate on the ground. To forsake kindred and country to find out the true knowledge of his brother's faith; which vow he soon after performed, and departed England without adver-

SWITHIN WELLS tising any one of his friends, and went beyond the seas to execute his promise.’

This Mr. John Genings became afterwards an alumnus of Doway College, where he was made priest in 1607, and was from thence sent upon the mission in 1608. After some time he entered into the holy Order of St. Francis, and was the happy instrument of procuring a convent for his Order at Doway in 1617, and of restoring the English Franciscan province, of which he was the first Provincial, which has since furnished the mission with many zealous apostolical labourers and holy martyrs.

SWITHIN WELLS, Gentleman.⁵

He was the sixth son of Thomas Wells, of Bramhridge, near Winchester, Esq., and brother to that worthy confessor, Gilbert Wells, Esq., renowned for his immovable constancy, and great persecutions which he suffered under Queen Elizabeth for the Catholic religion. Mr. Swithin was virtuously educated from his infancy, and carefully instructed in all manner of learning fitting his age and condition. He was good-natured, pleasant in conversation, courteous, generous, courageous, and every way a gentleman in his comportment. He took to wife a virtuous gentlewoman, who, as we have seen, was condemned with him; but did not die with him, being reserved to suffer a longer and more lingering martyrdom in prison.

‘ As Mr. Wells grew more mature in age, so he did in virtues; and although he much delighted in hawking, hunting, and other such-like gentleman’s diversions, yet he so soberly governed his affections therein as to be content to deprive himself of a good part of those pleasures, and retire to a more profitable employment of training up young gentlemen in virtue and learning, with such success, says my author, that his school hath been, as it were, a fruitful seminary to many w^orthy members of the Catholic Church, whereof one hath already gained the crown of martyrdom; others yet remain, some industrious and painful workmen in the happy harvest of soul, and some strong and immovable pillars, to support the Catholic cause against so many grievous storms and tempests as are daily raised against it.’

We have already seen in what manner Mr. Wells was apprehended, imprisoned, and condemned to die, and how he refused to save his life by renouncing his religion. The following letter, which he wrote to his brother-in-law, JMr. Gerard Morin (a constant professor of and sufferer for the Catholic faith), whilst he was in prison before his condemnation, as it excellently expresses the interior dispositions of his soul, deserves particularly to be here recorded.

‘ The comforts which captivity bringeth are so manifold, that I have rather cause to thank God highly for His fatherly correction than to complain of any worldly misery whatsoever. Dominus de coelo in terram aspexit ut audiret gemitus compeditorum, etc. Potius mihi hahetur ajfligt pro Christo, quam honor ari a Christo. These, and the like, cannot but comfort a good Christian, and cause him to esteem his captivity to be a principal freedom, his prison a heavenly harbour, and his irons an ornament. These will plead for him, and the prison will protect him. God send me withal the prayers of all good folks to obtain some end of all miseries, such as to His holy will and pleasure shall be most agreeable. I have been long time in durance, and endured much pain; but the many future rewards in the heavenly payment make all pains seem to me a pleasure; and truly custom hath caused that it is now no grief to be debarred from company, desiring nothing more than solitariness; but rather I rejoice that thereby I have the better occasion, with prayer, to prepare myself to that happy end for which I was created and placed here by God, assuring myself always of this one thing, that how few soever I see, yet am I not alone. Solus non est cui Christus comes est — “ He is not alone who has Christ in his company.” When I pray, I talk with God; when I read. He talketh to me; so that I am never alone. He is my chiefest companion and only comfort. Cum ipso sum in trihulatione.

‘ I have no cause to complain of the hardness of prison, considering the effects thereof, and the rather because I fasten not my affections upon worldly vanities, whereof I have had my full, to my great grief and sorrow.

‘ I renounced the world before ever I tasted of imprisonment, even in my baptism; which being so, how little doth it import in what place I be in the world, since, by promise, I vowed once never to be of the world; which promise and profession, how slenderly soever I have kept heretofore, I purpose, for the time to come, God assisting me with His grace in my commenced enterprise, to continue to my life’s end. The world is crucified to me, and I to the world.

SWITHIN WELLS

God forbid that I should glory in any thing but in the cross of Christ. I utterly refuse all commodities, pleasures, pastimes, and delights, saving only the sweet service of God, in whom is the perfectio 1 of all true pleasures. Vanitas vanitatum, et omnia vanitas prceter amare Deum — “ Vanity of vanities and all is vanity, besides loving God.” I am bound and charged with gyves y yet am I loose and unbound towards God; and far better I account it to have the body bound, than the soul to be in bondage. I am threatened hard with danger of death; but if it be no worse, I will not wish it to be better. God send me His grace, and then I weigh not what flesh and blood can do unto me. I have answered to many curious and dangerous questions, but I trust with good advisement, not offending my conscience. What will become of it, God knows best, to whose protection I commit you.

‘ E carcere et catenis ad Regnum,

Tuus hum vixero.

Sw. W.’

Mr. Wells received the sentence of death with undaunted courage, and religiously prepared himself for it. The morning he was to die, his wife (who had also received the like sentence for the like guilt of harbouring priests) was brought out of prison with him and Mr. GeningSy in order, as it was supposed, for execution; but she was remanded back to prison by the Sheriff, there to wait the Queen’s pleasure. That which would have afforded great joy to another, was grievously afflicting to this good lady, who lamented to see herself left behind, and not suffered to bear her husband and her ghostly father company in so glorious a death. She lived ten years a close prisoner in Newgatey exercising herself there in fasting, watching, and continual prayer, and died most holily in 1602. Mr. Wells was carried to be executed with Mr. Genings in Gray^s Inn FieldSy over against his own door. In the way, seeing by chance an old friend of his, he could not forget his wonted mirth; but saluted him in these words: ‘ Farewelf dear friend! farewell all hawking y hunting y and old pastimes; I am now going a better way I At the place of execution he was first witness of the bloody butchery of Mr. Genings; but so far from being terrified by it, or desiring any respite or delay of execution, he rather expressed a desire to have his death hastened. Despatchy?>2dd\QyMr. TopcXi^G-y despatch. Are you not ashamed to suffer an old man to stand here so long in his shirt in the cold? I pray God make you of a Saul a Paul, of a persecutor a Catholic professor. And in these and other like sweet speeches, says my author, p. 109, full of Christian piety, charity, and magnanimity, he happily consummated his course the loth of December^ 1591 •

EUSTACHIUS WHITE, Priest.^

EUSTACHIUS WHITE was born at Louth in Lincolnshire. His father was an earnest Protestant, who, upon his son’s conversion, was so highly offended as to lay his curse upon him; but God turned this curse into a blessing. Mr. Eustachius going abroad became an alumnus of the College of Doway^ then residing at Rhemes^ and afterwards of that of Rome, where he was made priest. He returned to Rhemes in October^ 1588; and from thence, in the November following, was sent upon the English mission. Mr. John Genings^ in the Life of his brother, reckons Mr. White in the number of those who were taken together in Mr. Wells's house; and certain it is that he suffered on the same day with Mr. Genings and Mr. Plasden; but, except we suppose him to have been twice apprehended, I have some reason to think there may be a mistake in that particular of his being taken with Mr. Genings; for I have a manuscript in my hands, written by Mr. Stephen Barnes^ priest, who was acquainted with Mr. White^ which gives a very different account of his apprehension; for thus he writes to Mr. Barber^ priest, then living in Doway College: —

‘ Amongst your priests martyred, there is one Mr. Eustachius White, who resided in our country, whom I knew. He was taken at Blandford in this manner: Coming, as I think, from London, he fell into company of a West-countryman, whose name I know not, but he was somewhat belonging to the law. Riding with him, Mr. White, being a fine gentleman-like man, and of good discourse and conversation, passed his time very well with him, and, to feel the man’s disposition in religion, talked of matters beyond the seas, as having been a traveller; and finding the lawyer well affected, as he thought, in religion, spoke the more freely, but no ways discovering what he was. Their ways lying together to Blandford, but no farther, Mr. White would have taken his leave there, but the lawyer urged him that they might there breakfast together before they parted, to whose importunity he yielded; and having a little bag at⁶

1591] EUSTACHIUS WHITE his saddle, in which, amongst other things, was his breviary, took that into the chamber with him; but after breakfast, having taken leave of his companion, and gone out of the town, the lawyer informed the officers that he was a Seminary priest, and telling them which way he was to go, they made after him. Mr. White, in the mean time, missing his breviary, which he had left in the inn, turned back. The officers met him, but not suspecting him coming towards the town, nor he them about what they were going, came directly to the inn, where he was taken. And being much urged whether he vvas not a priest, easily confessed it, when he might do it without danger to any other. Having confessed himself to be a priest, they sent immediately for the minister, one Dr. Howel, a tall man, and a great opinion there was of his learning. They conferred together, what their controversy was I know not; but Mr. White alleged for himself a place of Scripture, which the Doctor denied. Mr. White avouched that it was so in their own book, and the other still denied it. Mr. White wished him to come again the next day, and bring his book with him, and if he could not show it in his book, he would go to church with him: the other answered as resolutely. That if it were so, he would never go to church more but he a Papist. Thus, for the present, they left their disputation. The next day (the rumour of this being spread about) great numbers came, expecting surely to have the priest to church with them. The Doctor also came and brought his book with him; but being come into the room, he laid the book on the table and his elbow upon it, and began to talk of other matters; but Mr. White repeating openly the conditions agreed on the night before, asked him whether he had brought his book. He answered. Yes; but he held it fast under his elbow, and would have entered into other disputes; but Mr. White urged they were not needful, but that he should bring forth the book, and their conference would be ended; for that either he must go to church or the Doctor be a Papist. The Doctor as yet not offering to shew the book, Mr. White endeavoured, with modesty, to take it from under his elbow, but he would not let it go; whereupon Mr. White, turning to the audience, repeated the conditions again, and willed them to judge who had the right, and withal to consider well with what false doctrine they were seduced, and so would deal no more with Dr. Howel. The people were much moved, and many, of whom I know some, that were very hot Protestants before, became very calm; and the opinion of the common sort was, that there was not such a learned man again in England. He was detained there for some days, and afterwards sent for to London by a pursuivant, and there racked, as was said, seven times, and put to death. I heard, at that time, some of Blandford say. That they hoped the town would join together^ and put up a petition to the Queen to beg him. This I have heard from the mouths of some in Blandford that were present, and told it me while it w^as in every man’s mouth; for I had occasion to come thither very soon after.’ So far Mr. Barnes.

The Bishop of Tarrasona and Dr. Chanipney confirm what is here said of Mr. White's being cruelly tortured in prison. And the former in particular relates that Mr. White, lying in Bridewell at the mercy of the inhuman Toplijfe or Topclijfe (for I find his name differently written), besides other cruel treatments, was once hung up for eight hours together by the hands in iron manacles, to oblige him to confess in whose houses he had said Mass, or from whom he had received any relief since his return into England. But though this torment was so grievous that the sweat which the violence of the pain forced from his body passed all his garments and wet the very ground under him, as was attested by eye-witnesses, yet nothing could be extorted from him which might prejudice the persecuted Catholics; and under the greatest of his pains he cried out. Lord, more pain, if Thou pleasest, and more patience. Though Mr. White had been thus inhumanly handled by the tyrant, he told him, with a great deal of meekness and humility, Mr. Topcliffe, I am not angry at you for all this, but shall pray to God for your welfare and salvation. Topcliffe replied in a passion. That he wanted not the prayers of a traitor, and that he would have him hanged the next sessions. Then, said Mr. White, I will pray for you, sir, at least, at the foot of the gallows; for you have great need of prayers.

Mr. White was condemned merely on account of his priesthood, and was drawn to Tyburn, and there hanged, bowelled, and quartered, December 10, 1591.

POLYDORE PLASDEN, Priest *

POLYDORE PLASDEN, whom Mr. Stow calls Blaxto^i, was a native of London, and performed his studies abroad, partly in the College of Doway, then residing at Rhemes, and partly in that of Rome, from whence he was sent priest upon the English⁷

POLYDORE PLASDEN mission. We have already seen, in the Life of Mr. Genings^ all that regards Mr. Plasden's apprehension, trial, and condemnation. He was sentenced to die as in cases of high treason, for being a priest and returning into England to exercise his priestly functions here.

He was drawn to Tyburn, and there hanged, bo welled, and quartered, December 10, 1591.

With Mr. White and Mr. Plasden three others were executed for being aiding and assisting to priests, viz., Mr. Brian Lacy, gentleman, John Mason, and Sydney Hodgson. They all constantly chose to die for their religion, rather than to save their lives by occasional conformity.

Of all these executions thus writes the Protestant historian Mr. Stow in his Chronicle, 1591: — ‘ The loth of December, three Seminary priests, for being in this realm contrary to the statute, and four others for relieving them, were executed. Two of them, viz., a Seminary named Ironmonger, and Swithin Wells, gentleman, in Gray's Inn Fields, on the north side of Holborn; Blaxton and White, Seminaries, and three others, their abettors, at Tyburn.'

Footnotes

1. Ven. Robert Thorpe. — From the Douay Diary and Catalogues; from Ribadeneira; Champney’s Manuscript; and Relation of the Lady Bapthorpe; see also Lives of E. M.; Catholic Encyclopcedia. ↩

2. Ven. Montford Scott and George Beesley. — From the Douay Diary and Catalogues; from Father Ribadeneira; and from Dr. Champney’s Manuscript History; see also Lives of E. M.; Catholic Encyclopcedia. ↩

3. Ven. Roger Dickenson, or Diconson. — From the Douay Diary and Catalogues; from Dr. Champney’s Manuscript; and from a relation sent over from England recorded by Father Ribadeneira; see also Lives of E. M.; Gillow. ↩

4. Ven. Edmund Genings, alias Ironmonger. — From the Douay Diary, but principally from his Life, written by his brother, John Genings, and published at St. Omers in 1614; see also Catholic Encyclopcedia. ↩

5. Ven. Swithin Wells. — From Mr. John Genings’ Relation of the Life and Death of Mr. Wells, and from Dr. Champney’s Manuscript History; see also Catholic Encyclopcedia. Also infra, Appendix II. ↩

6. Ven. Eustace White. — From Dr, Champney’s Manuscript History and other Manuscripts in my hands; and from the Bishop of Tarrasona’s History of the Persecution; see also Life of Genings; Catholic Encyclopcedia. ↩

7. Ven. Polydore Plasden. — From the Douay Diary and the Bishop of Chalcedon’s Catalogue; see also Life of Genings; Catholic Encyclopcedia (s.v. White); Lives of E. M. ↩