The Year 1628

EDMUND ARROWSMITH, Priest, S.J.¹

Edmund ARROWSMITH was bom (as two several manuscripts in my hands expressly affirm) at a place called Haddock^ in the parish of Winwick, five miles from. Warrington and seven from Wigan^ in 1585. His father was Robert Arrcwsmith, a yeoman or farmer in that country; his mother, Margery^ was a gentlewoman of the ancient family of the Gerards. Both his parents were Catholics, and great sufferers for their religion, as were also their fathers before them. For Thurstan Arrcwsmith, grandfather to our Edmund, after the loss of goods, and frequent vexations from the pursuivants, suffered a long imprisonment, and died in bonds a confessor of Christ. And Mr. Nicholas Gerard, his grandfather by the mother’s side, being a constant professor of the Catholic faith, was by orders of Sir Thomas Gerard, his own brother, forcibly carried to the Protestant Church (at a time when he was labouring under a violent fit of the gout, so that he could not stir) and there placed over against the minister. But instead of joining with the minister or congregation in their service, he sung psalms in Latin, with so loud a voice, that the minister could not be heard, which obliged them to carry him away out of church.

As to the father and mother of Mr. Edmund, my Latin manuscript relates, that after divers other troubles and losses sustained for their conscience, they had their house searched by the pursuivants, who with their swords tried every bed and every hole in which they suspected any priest, or priestly utensils might be hid. And then they and all their family were tied two and two together, and drove to Lancaster gaol; leaving at home four little children, one of whom was our Edmund, whom the pursuivants had taken out of bed in their shifts, and left standing in the cold, not suffering any of the family to dress them; till some neighbours compassionating their case, came in and did this charitable office for the helpless infants. After this and some other imprisonments from which he redeemed himself by money, the father of our confessor went abroad with his brother Peter, to be out of the way of these vexations; and they both served for a time in the wars in Holland; Peter died at Brussels, of a wound received in the wars; and was there honourably interred. Robert, the father of omv Edmund, went to Rhemes or Doway to visit his other brother, Dr. Edmund Arrowsmith, a man of great learning and piety, priest and professor in the college; and after some time returned again to England, and there made a pious end, having foretold his own death some time before.

Mrs. Arrowsmith being left a widow, and in low circumstances, a venerable priest in that country, to ease her burden, took the boy Edmund (then called Brian from the name by which he was christened) into his service, to bring him up to learning. My Latin manuscript tells us, that whilst he frequented the schools his daily practice was, as he went to school in the morning, to a place about a mile distance from home, to recite in the way with his brethren the little hours of our Lady’s office; and when he was coming home at night the vespers and compline. And that his first care after he came home was to withdraw into his oratory, and there to perform his customary devotions of iht Jesus Psalter, the Seven Psalms, &c. And such was the sweetness of his temper, and his comportment, that even his Protestant schoolmasters were very fond of him. At length, having tried in vain to pass over to one of the seminaries, he succeeded better in his attempt to go into Flanders, where he was received into the English College of Doway in December, 1605.

Soon after his arrival at Doway he received the sacrament of Confirmation, in which he took the name of Edmund (which was the name of his uncle Dr. Arrowsmith), and by this name he was ever after called. He had performed here a great part of his humanity studies, when he was obliged by the bad state of his health to interrupt the course of them, and to return to his native country, where in a short time he recovered, and then his old master sent him back to the college. Where taking the usual oath he was admitted amongst the Pope’s alumni, and applying himself close to his studies, though somewhat infirm in health, he made a great progress in learning; but as his too great application threatened a return of his former illness, his superiors thought it most advisable (he having now gone through a good part of the course of his divinity) to present him to holy orders, and to send him into England. Upon this he received all the lesser orders in St. Nicholas's Church at Doway, June 14, 1612; and before the end of the same year was advanced to the greater orders at Arras, and there made priest December 9; and on the 17th of June of the following year, 1613, he" was by Dr. Kellison^ lately made President of the College, sent upon the English mission.

In England he quickly recovered his health, and employed his missionary labours in his own country of Lancashire with great zeal and success. The printed account of his death, published in 1630, gives his character in short thus: ‘ That he was a man of mean presence but of great innocency in his life, of great sincerity in his nature, of great sweetness in his conversation, and of great industry in his function. And that he was ever of a cheerful countenance — a most probable sign of an upright and unspotted conscience.’ A fellow-labourer of his, in a manuscript which I have in my hands, tells us, to the same purpose, ‘ That though his presence was very mean, yet he was both zealous, witty, and fervent, and so forward (in disputing with heretics) that I often wished him merrily, says he, to carry salt in his pocket to season his actions, lest too much zeal without discretion might bring him too soon into danger, considering the vehement and sudden storms of persecution that often assailed us.’ My author goes on: ‘ Sometimes I have been in his company, when meeting with ministers sumptuously mounted, I have had much ado to keep him from disputing with them; which if he had done, it would have brought the whole company into danger. In his travels on a time he met with a Protestant gentleman, who seeing him of so mean a presence, and understanding by some in company who and what he was, thought he had got a companion that he might freely jest at and play upon; but his jests were so retorted back upon him, that he, swearing a great oath, said, ‘ I thought I had met with a silly fellow, but now I see he is either a foolish scholar or a learned fool. ^

‘ He took much pains,’ says the same manuscript, ‘ with possessed persons, yet seldom or never without the help and assistance of some of his brethren; and so freed many from their troublesome guests, and did much good.’ He laboured about ten or eleven years upon the mission in quality of a secular priest; and then in 1624 entered into the Society of Jesus, to which he had an inclination ever after his making a spiritual exercise at Doway, under the direction of a Father of that Society. He did not go abroad to make his noviceship; but retired only for two or three months into Essex, which time he employed in a spiritual retreat.

‘ He was apprehended (says another manuscript in my hands, dated August 16, 1631), once before his last apprehension, and imprisoned in Lancaster, but released afterwards upon pardon, with divers others. [Probably in 1622, when I find by Mr. Rushworth’s

Historical Collections, Vol. I. p. 62, the King, in favour of the treaty of marriage then going forward with Spain ^ released a good many priests and other Catholics out of prison in and about London, and gave orders to the judges to do the like in their respective circuits.] At that apprehension he was brought before Dr. Bridgman, Bishop of Chester, where divers ministers were at supper with the Bishop, who did all eat flesh, it being in Lent. Dr. Bridgman upon that occasion made his apology to Mr. Edmund for his eating flesh, saying he was old and weak, and was dispensed withal. But who dispenses with your lusty ministers there, said Mr. Edmund, for they have no such need? Both before and after supper the ministers were busy in disputing with Mr. Edmund, and one time, divers of them urging him at once, he merrily said to the Bishop, Turn all your dogs loose at once against me, and let us have a loose bait.' His second and last apprehension was a little before the summer assizes in 1628. What happened to him then, with the whole history of his trial and death, we shall set down word for word out of the printed relation of his martyrdom, printed in the following year.

‘ This man (Father Arrowsmith), performing his priestly functions in that country, where afterwards he was put to death, and being in labour amongst the rest to reduce a young man to a course of virtue, who was fallen both from God and himself, and having reproved him in particular for an incestuous marriage, &c., was so hated by him, that coming once to suspect to what place the priest repaired, he found means to discover him to a Justice of Peace (Captain Raws-thorn), who despatched his warrant for him, and so he was apprehended upon the highway. He was committed to the common gaol for not taking the oaths, and upon vehement suspicion also that he was a priest and Jesuit. This happened this last summer, not long before the assizes at which he was tried. At the entrance whereof Sir Henry Yelverton coming to know that this prisoner was committed for this cause, and being the judge to whose turn it fell to sit upon life and death, he was not slack in laying hold of the occasion, and therefore the next morning, being the 26th of August, he commanded him to be brought to the bar. The prisoner at that time was in conversation with some friends, and the under-keeper and Sheriff’s men calling him, after a quick and unexpected manner, to go and present himself before the Judge, he instantly and cheerfully put himself upon obedience, and said, God's holy will be done. And so they conducted him to the bar amongst the felons and other malefactors.

‘ As soon as Judge Yelverton set eye upon him, he sent to his colleague {Sir Janies Whitlock), dt^irmg his assistance in that service, and the jury being called for this trial, Judge Yelverton began: Sirrah, are you a priest? The soldier of Christ making the sign upon himself of his Captain’s standard, which is the cross, gave this answer: I would to God I were worthy. The Judge repeated the same question, and he made this second answer, I would 1 were. Then the Judge asked him. Are you then no priest? to which the prisoner was silent. So that the Judge addressed himself to the jury, and said. You may plainly see he is a priest. I warrant you he woidd not for all England deny his order. After this a minister {Leigh or Lee), who sat as a Justice of Peace upon the bench, and who formerly had had some knowledge of the priest, went to whisper in the Judge’s ear; and then shortly after began to revile the prisoner aloud, declaring what a seducer he was, and that if some order were not taken with him, he would make half Lancashire Papists. By way of answer to the minister [and to the Judge, who told him he could say nothing for his religion], the prisoner humbly moved that he might be suffered to defend his faith in disputation, which he doubted not by God’s grace to perform against any who would oppose him. The Judge without delay stifled that proposition, and told him, That his doctrine could not be maintained; hut that belike he desired that they of his own religion shoidd hear him talk. To which the prisoner replied. That he would not only defend it in words, hut would be glad to seal it with his blood. The Judge told him then, after an insulting and savage manner. That he should die, and see his bowels burn before his face. And you, my Lord, said the prisoner, must die too.

‘ At this the Judge was much enraged, and then shortly commanded him to answer directly, how he could justify his going beyond the seas, and taking the order of priesthood upon him in disobedience to the King's laws. To which the prisoner made this reply. If any man can lawfully accuse me, I stand ready here to answer him. But of his being a priest no proof at all was brought, and only a servant belonging to the Justice of Peace who had committed him, was there called, and he swore. That the prisoner persuaded him to be a Catholic, and told him that the religion now professed in England was heretical; and that it began but in Luther’s time; and a youth of twelve years of age or thereabouts, a son to that same Justice, affirmed, though without oath, that the prisoner would have withdrawn him from Protestancy.

‘ The prisoner hearing this, humbly begged leave to speak; which being granted, he made a low reverence to the bench, and then began to this effect: My Lords, as I was travelling in this country, that very man, as I take it, rushed forth upon me by a hillside with a drawn sword in his hand. His apparel was mean, but he was on horseback. I made as much haste from him as I could, but yet being a weak and sickly man, he forced me in the end to the moss, where I left my horse, and then I fled with all the speed I could use, but yet that could not be great in regard I was loaden both with heavy clothes and books, and other things. At length he came up to me at a moss ditch, and struck at me, who had no other defence but a little walking stick, and a dagger which I drew not; and as for the stick he cut it close off at the hand by the blow he gave me, and did me withal some little hurt. I asked him then what his meaning was, and whether he intended to take my purse and my life; he answered that perhaps he would; and then I fled again from him, but he took me quickly; and then came in this very youth who hath offered to give evidence against me, and some others also to assist him. They used me very unworthily, and carried me first to an alehouse, and searched me to my very skin, after a barbarous manner, and offered some such other indignities as modesty forbids me to relate: but therein I hindered them the best I could, and that done they fell to drink: and so they consumed nine shillings of my money in one hour. And they told me, the Justice himself, by whose warrant they had apprehended me, was there in person, but that I knew not how to believe. Upon these occasions, my Lords, I began to find fault with this man’s wicked and rude behaviour, who seemed to be the ringleader of the rest, and I besought him for Jesus's sake to give over his disorderly life, his drinking, swearing, dissolute talking, and all those other things, whereby he might offend Almighty God. Upon my word, and upon my life, this, or to this effect is all that I said to him. Let him look on me, and gainsay it if he can. As for that youth, I deny not to have told him, that I hoped when he came to riper years, he would look better into himself, and become a true Catholic; for that, and that alone, would be the means to save his soul, to which he made no answer at all; and I hope, my Lords, that neither they nor any other can prove an ill thing against me,

‘ Upon this the aforesaid Justice of Peace began bitterly to inveigh against him, declaring. How dangerous a seducer he was, and earnestly desiring that he might find no favour, for he feared that if ever he got his liberty again, he would do him some mischief. At this the prisoner could not choose but smile, and indeed his usual countenance was inclined that way. But now upon this occasion both the judges told him that he was a saucy fellow, who knew no better manners than to laugh and flout at them who sat there in judgment for the King. But he who thought of nothing less than deriding them, besought them not to think so ill of him; and then he cast himself upon his knees, and besought Almighty God to bless the Kingy the honourable Counci f that honourable bench ^ and all that company there ^ humbly beseeching God of His infinite mercy to confound and root out heresy y that so we might be all of one religion. To this Judge Yelverton replied with much fury. Look yoUy gentlemen of the juryy how he wishes God to confound us alf and root out heresy y by which he means our religion.

‘ The prisoner was then taken from the bar, with command that he should be put in some dark place, where he might have neither light nor company to come to him, and when the keeper said that he had no such place, he was bidden to put him in the worst he had.

‘ Whilst he was so remaining there, the Judge lost no time in devising what indictment he might form against him. At length he resolved to draw up two indictments against him, one for being a priest and a Jesuit y upon the testimony of a mother and her incestuous son, who wrote thereof to the Justice when the priest was first examined; the other for being a persuader in religion, which had no other ground than the oath which the Justice’s man took against him there at the bar, and the accusation of that youth, who affirmed (but yet without oath) that he would fain have perverted him from his religion. The business being thus prepared, the prisoner was brought again to the bar, where Judge Yelverton was sitting then alone.

‘ And when upon these indictments, and the evidence which before had been given, the jury had found him guilty of high treason; the Judge rose up, as the manner is, and asked him. What he could say for himself y why he should not die according to the law. The prisoner did instantly lift up his eyes and hands towards heaven, and made no answer at all to that question, but in silence expected the event. And then the Judge gave sentence upon him in the usual form. The prisoner as soon as he had heard this sentence pronounced, fell down upon his knees, and bowing his head very low, sounded forth Deo gratias with a loud voice; and then in English y God be thanked. As the jailer was carrying him thence to prison, the Sheriff brought express command from the Judge, that they should load him with the greatest and heaviest irons in the castle; which being presently put upon his legs, he was not well able to go, but as he could he did, and in the way recited the psalm Misererey in so audible a voice that many heard him. When he was come into the prison they lodged him in a little dark hole, where he could not well lie down, but was forced to sit, with leaning only upon a bolster, which was then cast in; and so he continued in his clothes with heavy bolts on his legs, from Tuesday about one or two of the clock, till about twelve, when he was fetched out to execution.

He was also watched day and night by three or four of the Sheriff’s men, for so the Judge had commanded; as also that upon the forfeiture of £^00 no man should be suffered to speak with him. It is thought that in all that time he had taken very little sustenance, if he had any; for some that saw him bowelled averred that there was nothing at all in his guts but wind, and not any one drop of urine in his bladder.

‘ But notwithstanding this strict charge that none of his friends should speak with him, the minister {Leigh) who had so bitterly inveighed against him before the Judge, had privilege enough to go to him: and so he did once or twice; and his errand was to dispute, but nobody forsooth must be present. The prisoner refused that offer, since it must be subject to that condition; as fearing lest under colour thereof, some slanders might be raised against him after his death. Some of the minister’s disciples seemed to be scandalised, for that he had refused so public an offer of disputation as was made by the prisoner at the bar, and that now he would seek to go and dispute with him in private. But the minister and such as were most confident with him, affirmed against all such surmises that the priest was a silly fellow, &c., though indeed he was very well known to be a man both of ready wit and solid judgment, and a grounded scholar, which some of them had well found when he had been apprehended some few years before.

‘ In the mean time this happy prisoner, in his close dark cell, employs all his thoughts towards the making of his passage into a better world. The Judge would have him die a day before the other condemned persons, a thing unusual at assizes. But his lordship’s zeal must be made appear, Vv^ho was also pleased to look on out of a window at the execution, &c. On Thursday, therefore, the 28th of August, word was brought to the happy man, by the High Sheriff, that he must die within four hours after, to whom he said with great devotion, I beseech my Redeemer to make me worthy of it! The Judge commanded that it should be done about noon, when men were most likely to be at dinner. But howsoever it fell out, the whole place of his execution was covered with great multitudes of people of all sorts, ages, sexes, and religions, expecting the end of this tragedy. And when the keeper delivered his prisoner to the Sheriff, there was scarce a man or woman left at home to either take their dinners or to keep their shops.

‘ As he was carried through the castleyard, there was a reverend and worthy priest, his fellow-prisoner (Mr. Soiithworth), who had been condemned for his function a year before, and stood then reprieved, who shewed himself out of a great window. And the blessed man, who was now in his way to the hurdle, no sooner saw his face, but he lifted up his hands towards him with great humility for absolution (for this was the sign whereof they were both agreed before), and so that priest absolved the other in sight of the people. Then he was brought to the castle gates, where a Catholic gentleman embraced him straitly, and kissed him tenderly, till the High Sheriff made him be removed by force. Then was the blessed man laid and bound upon the hurdle, but with his head towards the horse’s tail for greater ignominy. He was dragged through the streets to the gallows, which was near a quarter of a mile from the castle, no friend being able to come near him, by reason of the Sheriff’s halberds and servants, but only some ministers were admitted for the increase of his torment. The executioner went close before the horse and hurdle, with a club in his hand in a kind of barbarous triumph, and the blessed man being then bound on the hurdle, held two papers between his hands, which were called duce claves coeli, the one of them containing an act of the love of God, and the other of contrition, which he used for the increase of his devotion.

‘ Drawing now near the gallows, the horse and hurdle were stayed; where the old limping minister, who hath been mentioned so often before, shewed him a huge and terrible fire, with a caldron boiling, so hot and high that no man was able to stand near it; and he spake thus to him. Look you, Mr. Rigby [for this was the name by which Father Arrowsmith was indicted], what is provided for your death; will you conform yourself yet, and enjoy the mercy of the King? The blessed man looked mildly on him, and said. Good sir, tempt me no more; the mercy which I look for is in heaven, through the death and passion of my Saviour Jesus, arid I most humbly beseech Him to make me worthy of this death. They dragged him then to the ladder’s foot, where being untied he prayed about a quarter of an hour upon his knees, but the Sheriff bidding him then make haste, he replied, God's will be done, and so kissing the ladder he most undauntedly went up.

‘ During the time of his prayer at the ladder’s foot, he often repeated those words, as he had also done upon the hurdle: I freely offer Thee my death, O sweet Jesus, in satisfaction for my sins; and 1 wish this little hlood of mine may he a sacrifice for them. The old minister then took him short, and said, Yoil attribute nothing to Christ's merits and passion. But he instantly replied, O sir, say not so: Christ’s merits and passion are ahvays presupposed. As he was ascending the ladder, he desired all Catholics to pray both with him and for him, in this last conflict. The minister untruly made answer, that there were none, and that he would pray for him. But the blessed man replied thus. I neither desire your prayers, nor will pray with you; and if it he true which you say, that there are no Catholics here, I wish I might die as many deaths as there are people in this place, upon cojidition that they were all Catholics. With that he prayed for His Majesty, and commended to Almighty God the state of this kingdom, and especially all his persecutors whom he freely forgave, desiring also forgiveness of whomsoever he had offended. Then going up yet higher on the ladder, he farther spoke to this effect. You gentlemen, who are come hither to see my end, bear witness with me that I die a constant Roman Catholic, and for Jesus Christ's sake: let not my death be a hindrance to your well-doing, and going forward in the Catholic religion, but rather an encouragement therein: for Jesus' sake have a care of your souls, than which nothing is more precious; and become members of the true Church, as you tender your salvation; for hereafter that alone will do you good. I beseech you request my brethren, for His sake who redeemed us all, to be careful to supply my want and insufficiency, as I hope they will. Nothing doth so much grieve me as this England, which I pray God soon convert. He prayed then a little while out of a paper, and so pulled his cap over his eyes expecting to be turned off.

‘ But the tempter had not yet done with him. Sir, said Mr. Leigh, I pray you accept the King's mercy, conform yourself, and take the oath, and you shall live: good sir, you shall live; I woidd fain have you live. Here is one come now from the Judge to offer you mercy; you shall live if you will conform yourself to our religion. The valiant champion of Christ, pulling up his cap from over his eyes, said, O sir, how far am I from that? tempt me no more; I will not do it, in no case, on no condition. Then with undaunted courage he addressed himself to the Sheriff, persuading him and all the rest to take care of their souls; till some ministers about him said muttering by, as in the name of the rest. We shall look to ourselves well enough. Others, who were farther off, interrupted him by crying out. No more of that, no more of that: away with him, away with him. So pulling his cap the second time over his eyes, and fixing himself in most fervent prayer to God, he was cast off the ladder, and was suffered to hang till he was dead. The last words which were heard out of his mouth were, Bonejesu. Being dead he was cut down, bowelled, and quartered. His head was set upon a stake or pole amongst the pinnacles of the castle, and his quarters were hanged on four several places thereof.

‘ Divers Protestants, beholders of this bloody spectacle, wished their souls with his. Others wished they had never come there. Others said it was a barbarous act to use men so for their religion., &c. The Judge departing the next day out of the town, was observed to turn up and down, or rather prance his horse, and look towards the martyr’s head, and not thinking it to be conspicuous enough, sent back a command to have it set higher by six yards than any of the pinnacles.’ So far the printed account of Father Arrowsmith published soon after his death.

His life published in 1737, adds from other ancient memoirs, that the Judge who condemned him, sitting at supper on the 23d of January., 1629-30, felt a blow, as if some one had struck him on the head; upon which he fell in a rage against the servant that waited behind him; who protested that he had not struck him, nor did he see any one strike him: a little after he felt another blow like the first; and then in great terrors he was carried to bed, and died the next morning.

The same life relates that Father Arrowsmith during his confinement reconciled to the Church one of the felons, who was executed on the 29th of August, the day after the martyrdom of the holy man; and that he died very penitent and constant in the Catholic religion, though his life was offered him, if he would have returned back to Protestancy.

‘ There is a letter extant,’ says the ancient printed relation of Father ArrowsmitK s death, ‘ of this blessed man, the first he wrote after he was imprisoned, which hath these words: All particidars did so co-operate to my apprehension! and bringing hither, that I can easily discern more than an ordinary providence of Almighty God therein. And surely it will appear that whatsoever followed in his story could not but be guided by the like Providence, if these particulars be considered; upon which I will here reflect in a word. First, the known clemency of His Majesty, who hath professed that he likes not to draw blood in case of religion; and the constant practice of the same ever since his inauguration to this crown; so that I make myself sure, and it is since known to be most certain, that this act of the Judge was no way encouraged by the King’s

Majesty. Secondly, when the blessed man was flying from his persecutors at the time of his apprehension, he was extraordinarily well mounted; and yet whatsoever desire he had, and diligence he used, it was not possible to put his horse to any speed. Thirdly, a kinsman of his own, whom he had in nature of a servant, well known to be a stout man, forsook him and fled away, when the least resistance might have preserved him. And fourthly, when he was studying his course of divinity in the Seminary of Doway^ he had twice in several sicknesses been even in the very agony of death, and had twice received Extreme Unction^ but yet was delivered at those times, and reserved to this most glorious and victorious end.’

Father Arrowsmith suffered at Lancaster, August the 28th, 1628; cetatis forty-three, Missionis fifteen, Societatis five.

RICHARD HERST, Layman.^

The day after Father Arrowsmith suffered, a lay Catholic named Richard Herst was also executed in the same place; condemned by the same judge under the colour of wilful murder; but in truth and in the sight of God, for the profession of the Catholic faith. His case is thus related by the same author, from whom we have transcribed our account of the death of Mr. Arrowsmith.

‘ Richard Herst being a recusant convict, warrants went out to arrest him and carry him before the Bishop of Chester. This warrant was put into the hands of one Christopher Nor cross, a pursuivant belonging to that Bishop; and he associated one Wilkinson and one Dewhurst as assistants to himself in that service. This latter, besides his meanness, was of so infamous a life, as that at the selfsame time the officer of the parish had a warrant in his hands for the apprehending and carrying him to the house of correction for his lewdness. Herst was then actually holding the plough, and a youth belonging to him drove it, and a maid of his was leading a harrow in the same field. Nor cross and the other two advanced towards him with the warrant; and Wilkinson struck at him with a staff. Whereupon the maid ran hastily towards the house crying out that they were killing her master in the field; and hereupon both herself and her mistress, a man-servant and one Bullen (who happened to² be at the house at that time) were all coming on to help Herst. When Wilkinson and Dewhurst perceived this, they made towards that new company, and Wilkinson struck the servant down, as also the other who came with him. In this confusion the maid gave Dew-hurst a blow on the head, who partly on that occasion, partly also to apply himself close to Wilkinson^ made more haste than good speed, and ran so disorderly over the hard ploughed lands, as that he fell down, and broke his leg. Of which hurt growing worse and worse, and the same striking up into his body, being far from good remedies, he died about the end of thirteen days; before which time the hurt of his head was grown quite whole. And the poor wretch declared at his death, both how much it afflicted him that he had been employed in such a business, and that he came to his death by no other hurt but his fall, which was verified afterwards by the oath of two witnesses. And it is both true and certainly known (and nothing was so much as offered to prove the contrary) that at the time when the maid gave Dewhurst that blow upon the head, Herst was distant both from him and her above thirty yards, and that withal he gave no direction or encouragement at all that any such thing should be done.’

Thus stood the case; and how this should be made a wilful murder in Herst, ’tis hard to conceive, yet so were matters managed, the same Judge Yelverton (who has been lately spoken of in the story of Father Arrowsmith) especially concurring thereunto, that, contrary to all shew of truth and justice, the man was condemned to die, and was executed, August 29. ’Tis true his life was promised him if he would take the oath; but he refused to live upon any such conditions as were inconsistent with his conscience. The day before he was to suffer, he was called upon to go with the other prisoners to church to hear a sermon; but he assured them, that if he had a thousand lives he would rather lose them all than go willingly there. But the High Sheriff ordered him to be dragged thither by force, whilst he on his part made all the resistance that he could, though to his very great hurt; being trailed upon the ground by his legs over a ragged and stony way for twenty or thirty rods from the prison to the church. When he was there he cast himself upon the ground, and thrust his fingers into his ears that he might not hear their doctrine. But when he was to go back again to prison, he went very merrily, telling some Catholics whom he met in the way. They have tortured my body, hut I thank God they have not hurt my sold.

Two of his friends found means to see him that evening and stayed with him in prison till midnight, in prayer and spiritual conversation, who also returned to him the next morning. To them he seemed to be very desirous to be dissolved, and to be with Christ; for he would be often saying. They stay long; when do you think they will come? As soon as the Sheriff was come to the prison, which was about one o’clock in the afternoon, to take all the prisoners out to execution, he read the dead-warrant, wherein all their names who were to die were inserted, and among the rest that of Mr. Arrowsmith, at the hearing of whose name Mr. Herst said. You have already sent him to heaven; and I hope I shall not be long after him, for I trust much in his prayers. And looking up towards the top of the castle, where the priest’s head was placed, the officer asking what he looked at 1 I look, said he, at the head of that blessed martyr whom you have sent before to prepare the way for us; meaning himself and the other who had been reconciled in prison. In the way to execution, he gave some alms according to his small ability, as he had done before to the poor prisoners in the castle; and being met in the street by Mr. King, the vdcar of the town, who questioned him about his faith, he answered, I believe according to the faith of the holy Catholic Church. The vicar demanded further of him, how he meant to be saved? He answered with his usual cheerfulness. Not by your religion, Mr. King. But he further asking him, whether he meant to be saved by the merits of Jesus Christ? he sharply replied, Will you be accounted a divine, and ask me such a question?

In the way to execution he carried in his hand a picture of Christ crucified, on which he had his eyes fixed; and frequently repeated to himself short ejaculatory prayers. When he came in sight of the gallows, he said, Gallows, thou dost not affright me; and coming to the place he kissed the post. Some few ministers were there to importune him again in point of religion, but he regarded them not. The Sheriff telling him he was to be the first man to die, he most earnestly and devoutly recommended himself to the merciful hands of God; begging the prayers and intercession of the Blessed Virgin, his angel guardian, and all the saints, especially St. John Baptist, it being the day of his decollation. And' looking up at the executioner who was busy in fastening the rope, but knew not readily how to do it right, he merrily called him by his name, and said, Tom, I think I must come and help thee. Such was his courage and serenity of mind upon the very brink of death. Then ascending the ladder, after divers short speeches of devotion, and repeating three or four times the holy names oi Jesus and Mary, he was turned off, and so passed from this mortal life to a happy immortality, August 29, 1628.

The following declaration of his case was written by himself not long before he died: —

‘ Whereas I have been an humble petitioner to His excellent Majesty for a pardon for the death of one Henry Dewhurst, and his gracious pleasure was that I should have a legal trial before that my pardon could pass; and I trusting in the innocency of my cause yielded my body, and put myself in trial before Judge Yelverton^ who did inform the jury that I was a recusant and had resisted the Bishop’s authority, and that it must be found murder for an example. And whereas the jury, after learning the matter, was not willing to find murder in me, three of them, whereof the foreman of the jury was one, went to the judge to his chamber after dinner, who took the foreman by the hand, and told him they must find it murder for an example. This did one of the jury testify unto me when I came from the bar, and did report to divers of my friends, and he was one of the three that went to the judge. And now whereas the judge hath certified my lord keeper that it was so foul a murder as he did never hear of, upon which certificate my pardon is stayed, and my life I am certain to lose for the fact; wherefore, for the satisfaction of the world, and the clearing of my friends, who have sued for my pardon, and especially for the Queen’s excellent Majesty, who hath been an earnest suitor for my life; the man had no hurt but only in his leg, which was found to be the cause of his death, and he confessed on his deathbed that he broke it himself. And this was given in evidence before the coroner, as may appear by the coroner’s verdict and the examination of witnesses taken before Sir Ralph Ashton and the coroner, which verdict and examination will appear contrary to the judge’s certificate; and that the man had no mortal wound but only in his leg, and that I never gave him stroke, nor was within five or six rods of him when he received his hurt. All this will appear to be true by examinations and depositions taken before Sir Ralph Ashton and the coroner, which was all the evidence that came against me at the assizes. All this I declare only for the satisfaction of the world, &c. All this I take on my death, as I hope to be saved, and for no hope of life.’ So far the declaration. The like is found in a letter written by him about the same time to a person of honour.

He wrote also three letters to his ghostly father a little before his death. In the first he delivers himself in the following words: —

‘ Dear and Reverend Sir, — I received your letter with news of death, at which I am not much dismayed, I thank my Lord and Saviour. The more malicious my enemies are, the greater is my comfort; for I do constantly believe that my religion is the cause of their malice, and my greatest desire is to offer my blood in so good a cause. And although my flesh be timorous and fearful, I yet find great comfort in spirit in casting myself upon my sweet Saviour with a most fervent love, when I consider what He hath done and suffered for me, and my greatest desire is to suffer with Him. And I had rather choose to die a thousand deaths than to possess a kingdom and live in mortal sin; for there is nothing so hateful to me as sin, and that only for the love of my Saviour. I do most constantly believe that He hath afflicted me to save me; and I trust I shall die truly humbled, for the which I desire your good prayers that I may persevere to the end; for of myself I can do nothing without His grace.’

In the second he writes thus: ‘ Now I am preparing for my soul, for the which I most humbly desire your good prayers; and likewise I desire you to commend my case to the prayers of some good priests and Catholics. And I do freely offer myself into the hands of my sweet Saviour, neither desiring life nor death, but according to His blessed will, hoping that He will dispose all things for the good of my soul.’

In the third, written upon the very day of his execution, he speaks thus: ‘ Dear and reverend sir, now I take my last leave. I am now dying, and am as willing to die as ever I was to live, I thank my Lord and Saviour, who I trust, will never fail me. I have comfort in Christ Jesus and His blessed Mother, my good angel, and all the blessed saints; and I am much comforted in the valiant and triumphant martyr that is gone before me, and I do much trust in his good prayers. How I have been used you will hear, and likewise what I had offered to me if I would have taken the oath. I hope my friends will truly understand that my greatest desire is to suffer, and I would I had as many lives to offer as I have committed sins. Now, dear sir, prepare yourself also to suffer, and animate your ghostly children in suffering. Once again I desire you to say and to procure some Masses for my sinful soul, and if it please God to receive me into His kingdom I shall not be unmindful of you and of all my good friends. I pray you remember my poor children, and encourage my friends about my debts; and let it appear that my greatest worldly care is to satisfy them as far as my means will extend. Once again adieu: I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ Jesus. I trust we shall once meet in heaven to our eternal comfort.

Now I take my last leave this execution day, about eight of the clock, and commit you to Christ Jesus.’

These letters were published, with the relation of his death, in 1630. He left behind him six young children, and his wife big with child.

From this year till 1641, I find no more blood shed for religious matters, though as to other penalties they were frequently inflicted upon priests and other Catholics; severe proclamations were issued out against them, heavy fines laid upon them, and the prisons filled with them; insomuch that in the compass of one year alone, there were at least twenty-six priests of divers orders seized and committed to that one prison alone called the Clinks to speak nothing of those that were elsewhere confined.

In the year 16^0, John Goodman^ priest, was tried and condemned on account of exercising his priestly functions; his case has something so particular in it, that, though he was not executed, he deserves a place in these Memoirs.

Footnotes

1. Ven. Edmund Arrowsmith. — From a Latin Manuscript of his Life preserved in Douay College; from a printed Relation published a little more than a year after his martyrdom and republished 1737; and from three other Manuscripts sent me from Douay; see also Foley, Records, ii.; Camm, Forgotten Shrines; Gillow. ↩

2. Ven. Richard Herst. — From the Relation of his death, published in 1630 and 1737; see Gillow. ↩