The Year 1642
THOMAS REYNOLDS, alias GREEN, Priest *
Thomas Reynolds, whose true name was Green, was born in the city of Oxford, towards the beginning of Queen ElizahetHs reign; and as great numbers of the brightest and most hopeful young men in both universities in those days, disliking the new religion, went abroad to be educated in the old, for which afterwards a great many of them laid down their lives; Mr Reynolds followed their footsteps, and going over to Rhemes to the English Seminary then residing in that city, after some time spent in his studies there, was advanced to holy orders; and being1
THOMAS REYNOLDS now deacon, was on the 17th of September, 1590, in the company of several others sent from Rhemes into Spain, the seminaries in that kingdom being then usually supplied from the College at Rhemes. Mr. Reynolds was made priest at Seville, and from thence was sent upon the English mission. He had been above fifty years in holy orders, when he was called forth to suffer, and in that space of time had weathered many a storm. I find his name amongst the forty-seven priests sent from divers prisons into banishment in 1606. But he quickly returned again to his post; he was therefore again apprehended, in or about the year 1628, about fourteen years before his death; and was then brought to his trial, and condemned; but by the Queen’s interest was reprieved; yet so as still to remain a prisoner. ’Tis true, I find his name in Mr. Prynne’s Hidden Works of Darkness, &c., amongst those priests who in 1635, upon giving bond for their appearance, were permitted to go out of prison; and in consequence of this permission he was often abroad amongst his friends till in June, 1641, (the factious in the Parliament being now very clamorous against the reprieving of priests), he was seized and committed; and in the January following, without any new trial or provocation, was brought down to his former sentence, and executed.
He was a man, says my author, Chiflet, p. 37, of a most religious comportment in his whole life, who, for a long course of years, had preached virtue and godliness to his countrymen, no less by his example than by his words; and he was now far advanced in age, [being about eighty]. As to his body, he was fat and corpulent, yet very infirm through past labours and sufferings. As to his temper, he was remarkably mild and courteous; and in the many years he had laboured in the vineyard of his Lord, he had reaped much fruit in gaining many souls to God. He was naturally timorous; and therefore when he was so unexpectedly called upon to prepare himself to die, distrusting in his own strength, he earnestly importuned heaven for the grace of constancy and perseverance, by long and fervent prayer, in which he employed a good part of the night before his martyrdom; and begged, to this same end, the prayers of other priests and servants of God. And the Divine Majesty was pleased to hear him, and in such manner to favour him with His grace, as to banish all his fears, and fill his soul with wonderful fortitude and vigour; so that he was surprised to find this change in himself, and could not forbear extolling the mercies of God towards him, and the wondrous operations of His powerful grace in so poor, frail, and infirm an old man. On the morning before he was to die, he celebrated the sacred mysteries; and then cheerfully obeyed the summons of the officers who called for him in order to execution.
What follows is mostly transcribed from two manuscript relations, of which I have copies in my hands.
‘ He {Mr. Reynolds) came forth of Newgate, and put off his hat to the Sheriff, then went up to the sledge and lay down; but lifting himself up again, he saluted them that were about him and gave his blessing to all Catholics that were present. Mr. Roe, a Benedictine, presently followed, and did in the same manner, and they embraced each other on the hurdle. It was the 21st of January, 1641, being Friday, the Feast of St. Agnes, that these two courageous soldiers of Jesus Christ were called out to fight. They were drawn on one hurdle by four car-horses; the way being very deep and plashy, so that their faces, bands, and clothes, were much spattered with dirt. In the mean time it is almost incredible how much both Protestants and Catholics were moved to tears at the sight of them, and what shew of zeal the Catholics made towards these blessed martyrs. For in the streets they went up to the hurdle where they lay, some kissing their hands, some their garments, others craving their blessing publicly; others saying. Courage, valiant soldiers of Christ; and the martyrs on the other side bade them lojiwWy far ezv ell, saying. They more esteemed it to be drawn up Holhorn on a sledge for this cause, than if they were riding in the best coach the King had, and that they were going to a marriage feast.
‘ They arrived about eleven o’clock at the place of execution, where Mr. Reynolds having the Sheriff’s permission, spoke bravely for half an hour’s space; and amongst other things said, that if he had as many lives as there are bright stars in the firmament, he would most willingly give them all for this cause. That he had conversed with all sorts of people, having been a priest in England almost forty years, yet none could ever accuse him so much as of a word tending to treason or disloyalty; that he had only laboured to reduce strayed souls to the fold of the Catholic Church, to which as he had reduced some, so he wished that every one of them had been a thousand. He also told them that God’s vengeance hung over England for their seditious treacheries, &c. Here the Sheriff asked him what he meant? I do not mean, said he, the Parliament; I will not censure nor meddle with their actions but beseech Almighty God to bless them, and to send the Holy Ghost to teach them, to do what is best for the kingdom, and the Catholic Church; and withal he excused the King for having any hand in his blood, and prayed for him, for the Queen, the royal issue, and the whole kingdom.
THOMAS REYNOLDS
‘ I pray God, said he, that they (the King and Parliament), may settle all things to His honour and glory, and that England may be a flourishing kingdom. I desire all whom I have offended to forgive me, as I forgive all the world from the bottom of my heart, and all those who have a hand in the effusion of my innocent blood; I pray God that it may not be laid to their charge, and that it may not cry to heaven for vengeance, and lie heavy upon the kingdom. And God forgive them, to please whom I was so suddenly called away. And God bless you, Mr. Sheriff, and reward you for your goodness towards me, and for your patience in bearing with my tediousness, and grant you His grace to make you a glorious saint in heaven, &c. Here the Sheriff answered in a low voice. And I commend myself to you.
‘ All this he spoke with such an undaunted courage, a cheerful aspect, and at the same time with such an air of meekness and humility, as drew tears from the eyes of many; and though the crowed was extraordinary great, the attention and silence was such as might rather be expected in a church than upon this occasion. The Sheriff w'ho had all this time stood uncovered, and showing by his own wet cheeks a deep concern for the prisoner, turned towards my Lord Rich and some other persons of distinction, and with a great feeling and concern protested, that he had never seen in his whole life a man die like him, and that for his own part he did truly pity his condition.
‘ Mr. Reynolds having finished his discourse, kneeled down, disposing himself for prayer. When Mr. Roe (a man courageous and valiant^ says Father Floyd) rising up, and looking about him, said with some surprise, Here's a jolly company! I know you come to see me die; my fellow here hath in great measure spoke what I would have said. However, I shall repeat the words I used at the bar. I say, then, here again, for a man to be put to death for being a priest, this being the most sacred and highest order in the world, is an unjust and tyrannical law. I say, that law of the 27th of Queen Elizabeth, which condemns a man to death for being a priest only, is a wicked, unjust, and tyrannical law — a law* not to be found even amongst the Turks, or elsew^here in the whole universe, England excepted. Here the Sheriff' said, Mr. Roe, I must not suffer you to vilify the laws; I am here to see justice done, and cannot hear you make these reflections upon the laws and judicial proceedings of the nation. Whereupon Mr. Roe desisted, recommending himself to the prayers of all such as w^ere of his religion, forgiving from his heart all persons whatsoever, and earnestly begging forgiveness of
40 c;
all. This done he prepared himself for execution, shewing in his behaviour the whole time an unparalleled contempt of death.
‘ Then the cart, wherein were three felons (one of which had been privately reconciled by Mr. Roe the da}^ before, and gave great signs of penitence), was placed under the gallows, and the two confessors were ordered to get into it, which they did with joy; and having there embraced each other for the last time, they betook themselves to their private devotions. While the executioner was fastening the ropes, Mr. Reynolds called to him. Friend, says he, pray let all be secure, and do thy duty neatly; I have been a neat man all my life.
‘ After some time employed in mental prayer they rose up; and Mr. Roe espying one of the turnkeys of the Fleet, where he had formerly been a prisoner. Friend, says he, smiling, I find thou art a prophet; thou hast told me often that I should be hanged, and truly my unworthiness was such I could not believe it; but I see thou art a prophet.
‘ While the ordinary of Newgate was praying with the felons, the two priests recited the Miserere psalm alternatim, Mr. Reynolds beginning and Mr. Roe answering; and having recited the whole psalm and paused a short time, they repeated it a second time, Mr. Roe giving out the first verse, Mr. Reynolds answering. The executioner coming to cover their faces, Mr. Roe told him he had disposed of his handkerchief; But, says he, I dare look death in the face.
‘ In fine, after some devout recommendations of their souls to their Saviour, the servants of God, as the cart was drawn away, saluted the people with great signs of joy and alacrity, and so passed to a better world. They hung till they were fully dead, in their clothes, and afterwards were quartered. Many present dipped their handkerchiefs in their blood; others gathered up the bloody straws and what they could get else, going to London with their spoils. The Catholics then present (many in number) seemed even beside themselves with fervour and zeal; and into them that were absent their glorious example hath put life and alacrity. Yea, a Protestant said. It would be long enough before any of our religion would die as these men do for their faith; they would sooner turn to a hundred religioiis. Another Protestant that frequents our house [they are the words of Father Floyd's MN.], having no handkerchief about him, dipped his glove within and without, and brought it to us, and could not for weeping relate what the good man said; and added, that many Protestants wept, even the Sheriff himself. A 'Protestant lord, to my knowledge, said that he was unwilling they should be put to
BARTHOLOMEW ROE death, and that it would be the cause that two thousand more Papists would rise for these two priests; and that he did not doubt but when Mr. Ward was executed a thousand were made Papists. It is likely, continues the manuscript, that the seven condemned priests will shortly also be executed, notwithstanding the King’s reprieve; for now the Parliament proceeds against priests upon their own authority, without asking the King’s leave. God give them constancy, and make us partakers of their merits.’ So far the manuscript.
They suffered at Tyburn^ January 21, 1641-2.
BARTHOLOMEW ROE, Priest, O.S.B.'2
Bartholomew roe, who in religion was called Father Alban, was born in Suffolk, of a gentleman’s family, and was from his infancy brought up in the Protestant religion. After having gone through his grammar studies in his own country, he was sent to the university of Cambridge, and there for some time applied himself with good success to higher learning; till going to visit some friends at St. Albans, as Providence would have it, he was there told of one David, an inhabitant of that town, lately convicted and cast into prison for a Popish recusant, and was desirous to go and talk with the prisoner, making no question but that he could convince him of the errors and absurdities of the Romish tenets, for he had a sharp and ready wit, and a tongue well hung, and withal was full of conceit of his own religion, and with false ideas of the Catholic doctrine. To the prison therefore he went, and entered into discourse with the prisoner upon the subject of his religion, who, though a mechanic, yet was not ill read in controversy, so that he was able to maintain his cause against all the oppositions of our young university man, and even pushed him so hard upon several articles that Mr. Roe soon perceived he had taken a Tartar, and knew not which way to turn himself. In conclusion, he who came to the attack with so much confidence of victory left the field with confusion, beginning now to stagger and diffide in the cause.
From this time Mr. Roe was very uneasy in mind upon the score of religion; nor did this uneasiness cease, till by reading and conferring with Catholic priests he was thoroughly convinced of his errors, and determined to embrace the ancient faith. And having found the treasure of God’s truth himself, he was very desirous to impart the same to the souls of his neighbours; and to this end resolved to go abroad, that he might enter into holy orders, and so return home well qualified by virtue and learning to preach to others the true way of salvation. Being therefore reconciled to the Church, he passed over into Flanders, and entered himself a convictor in the English College of Doway, as appears by the records of that house. But after some time he removed from thence to Dieulwart in Lorraine^ where he took the habit of St. Bennet^ amongst the English monks of that venerable order; and having given general satisfaction to all the religious during the year of his probation, he was admitted to his solemn profession; and after some time presented to holy orders. And being judged by his superiors thoroughly qualified, by a long practice of all religious virtues, for the apostolic functions, he was sent upon the English mission.
Here he took great pains in preaching, conferring with Protestants, &c., and gained many souls to Christ and His Church; his zsal and charity making him proof against all personal dangers, where he thought he could be serviceable to the soul of his neighbour. After some time he fell into the hands of the pursuivants, and was committed to the New Prison, which was then in Maiden Lane^ and for a long time endured great hardships there; till by the mediation of Count Gondomar^ the Spanish ambassador, he was taken out of prison, and with many other priests sent into banishment. On this occasion he went to Douay, to visit his brethren in their convent of St. Gregory, and remained with them for about four months; and then returned again upon the English mission, where he spent the remainder of his days, and that for the most part in prison.
For after he had laboured for about two years more with his usual zeal, he fell a second time into the hands of the adversaries of his faith, and was then committed a close prisoner to a filthy gaol at St. Albans, the very place where he had received the first favourable impressions of the Catholic faith. His confinement here was very strict, and his want even of necessaries so very great, that he verily believed he must have perished through cold and hunger, if a special providence had not interposed. But after about two months, by the means of some friends, he was sent for up to town, where he was something better accommodated in the prison of the Fleet, and wanted not opportunity (which he improved to the best) during the seventeen years of his confinement, of being beneficial to the souls of many who resorted to him; and even for the latter part
BARTHOLOMEW ROE of the time, he seems to have had the liberty, as several others of his character had in King Charles's days, of going abroad upon his parole^ and attending to the calls of his ministry. In the mean time, he suffered much from frequent illnesses, and violent fits of the stone (for which he was cut more than once), all which he endured with invincible patience and courage; being remarkably cheerful and facetious even in the midst of his sufferings. He was also very industrious in animating such as applied to him to the practice of mental prayer; instructing them in this holy exercise, both by word of mouth, and by several pious tracts, which he translated out of other languages into English^ some of which he caused to be published in print, others he left behind him in manuscript.
About the beginning of the long persecuting Parliament, being in conversation with one of his brethren, he told him that war was at hand, and that it was time to be prepared for the conflict; and so it happened; for not long after, he was apprehended, and committed to Newgate, and within a few days brought upon his trial at the Old Bailey. The chief witness against him was a fallen Catholic, whom he had formerly assisted. He pleaded not guilty, but boggled at being tried by his country, that is, by the twelve ignorant jurymen, as being unwilling that they should be concerned in the shedding of his innocent blood. The Judge upon that occasion told him what punishments the law had ordained for such as refused to plead, which he must look for, if he persisted to decline being tried by his country. Mr. Roe generously replied. My Saviour has suffered far more for me, than all that; and I am willing to suffer the worst of torments for His sake. The Judge bid him think better of it, and sent him back to prison.
The next day, after he had taken advice of some grave and learned priests, he was brought again to the bar, and consented, after the example of so many other confessors of Christ, to be tried by his country. The jury went aside, and quickly returned declaring him guilty of the indictment, viz., of high treason, on account of his priestly character and functions, and the Judge pronounced sentence upon him according to the usual form, which he heard with a serene and cheerful countenance; and then making a low reverence, returned thanks to the Judge and to the whole bench for the favour, which he esteemed very great, and which he had greatly desired; And how little, said he, is this which I am to suffer for Christ, in comparison with that far more bitter death which He suffered for me! He then acknowledged himself to be a priest, but withal loudly condemned those laws by which the priests were put to death; and made a proffer to maintain by disputation in open court, against any opponent whatsoever, the Catholic faith, which he for thirty years had laboured to propagate, and was now about to seal with his blood. This the judges would not hear of, but sent him back to prison, wondering at his constancy and intrepidity.
During the few days he remained in prison, between his condemnation and execution, his soul seemed always full of joy at the prospect of his approaching happiness. Great numbers came to visit him, and not one of them who did not depart highly edified with his comportment and conversation. On the day that he was to be executed, he found means to celebrate Mass in prison early in the morning, which he did with singular devotion; and after Mass made a short but pathetic exhortation to the Catholics that were present, giving them his last benediction, and desiring of them that as often as in passing through the city, they should see that hand of his fixed on one of the gates, or in crossing the water should see his head on London Bridge^ they would remember those lessons which he had preached to them of the necessity of holding fast the Catholic faith, and of leading a Christian and holy life.
When he was admonished that the officers of justice waited for him below, he readily obeyed the summons, and walked down the steps with an edifying composure, and a modest cheerfulness in his looks, saluting the Sheriff and all the people with great civility. Then coming up to the hurdle and taking Mr. Reynolds by the hand, who was already placed on it, and with his usual facetiousness feeling his pulse, asked him. How he found himself now. In very good heart, said Mr. Reynolds, blessed be God for it, and glad that I am to have for my companion in death a person of your undaunted courage. Then after mutual salutations, Mr. Roe being also fastened on the hurdle, they were drawn to Tyburn, as we have already seen in the acts of Mr. Reynolds.
When they arrived at Tyburn, they made their last confessions to each other, and after mutual embraces and congratulations, getting up into the cart they kissed the ropes, and put them on as their last stoles in which they were to offer their last sacrifice; and heartily recommended themselves to the prayers of all Catholics. We have already taken notice of the last speech of Mr. Reynolds (during which Mr. Roe was busy in preparing for death one of the malefactors whom he had reconciled in prison), and how Mr. Roe was hindered by the Sheriff from proceeding in his discourse to the people, upon which occasion he begged leave to speak a word or two to the Sheriff himself, who told him he might. Pray, sir, said Mr. Roe, if I will
JOHN LOCKWOOD conform to your religion, and go to church, will you secure me my life? That I will, said the Sheriff, upon my word; my life for yours if you will but do that. See, then, said Mr. Roe, turning to the people, what the crime is for which I am to die, and whether my religion be not my only treason. Other particulars relating to Mr. Roe's death have been recorded above. He recommended his soul to God when the cart was about to be drawn away; and he was observed whilst he was hanging, to hold for some time his hands joined before his breast, and twice separating them a little, to join them again as one employed in prayer.
When he was cut down and stripped, in order to be quartered, a certain writing was found about him, perhaps the speech which he designed to have spoken, which the Sheriff immediately laid hold of, and is said to have laid before the Parliament; but what in particular were the contents of it we have not been informed.
JOHN LOCKWOOD, alias LASSELS, Priest *
JOHN LOCKWOOD was eldest son of Christopher Lockwood, Esq., of Soresby in the county of York, by N. Lassels his wife, daughter of Sir Robert Lassels of Brackenbrough, in the same county. He was born in 1555, according to the Doway Diary, which gives him no more than eighty-seven years of age when he suffered (though I have before me some relations which affirm that he was at that time ninety-six years old). He had exercised his priestly functions, according to the same Diary, for the space of forty-four years before his martyrdom; so it is likely he did not retire out of England till late. Whenever it was, we are assured that he voluntarily quitted an estate of four hundred a year, to devote himself to the service of God and his neighbours in the quality of a priest and of a missioner; and that at a time, and in a kingdom, where he could look for nothing else in that quality but labours and dangers, prisons and death.
He performed his studies abroad, partly in the College of Doway or Rhemes, and partly in that of Rome; but at Rome he was made priest, as appeared from his answer in Court, when being charged with being a Roman priest, he answered, that it was right enough3 expressed in his regard, For indeed, said he, I was ordained priest at Rome. He was twice at least a prisoner for his faith before his last apprehension; for I find in Molanus, that he was sent from prison into banishment in 1610; and after his return upon the mission was retaken again, and then brought upon his trial and condemned to die, but was reprieved and kept in prison. How long he was confined at this time I have not found, nor how he escaped out of prison; probably he was discharged, as many others were, either upon occasion of the marriage-treaty with Spain, or by the interest of Queen Henrietta Maria. He was apprehended for the last time at a place called the Wood-end, the house of Mrs. Catenby, a Catholic widow, where the old gentleman had lived for some years. He was cultivating his little garden when the bloodhounds rushed in upon him, and easily secured their prey. The pursuivants were inhabitants of a neighbouring market town called Thirsk; their leader was one Ciithbert Langdale, and he and another wretch, to fill up the measure of their iniquities, appeared witnesses against him at the York assizes, and took away the life of the good old man.
Some odd circumstances bordering upon cruelty, which accom.- panied the commitment and condemnation of Mr. Lockwood, especially considering his great age, and the peaceable and inoffensive disposition of the man, gave much offence not only to Catholics but to many of the more moderate Protestants; insomuch, that even to this day, says Mr. Knaresborough, his execution is mentioned in Yorkshire with pity and compassion. Though as for his own part, it appears by the sequel of the story, that he was well satisfied with the orders of Providence, and did even joyfully take up his cross to follow his dying Saviour. He took leave of his friends with a wonderful evenness of mind, and manifestly shewed by his behaviour that he was not under the least concern at his commitment or the consequences of it.
The great difficulty was how to convey the prisoner to York. They set him on horseback, but through weakness and age he was not able to ride. ‘ Upon this Cuthbert gets on behind and supports his feeble charge; but neither would this contrivance long succeed; the poor old man after a short trial fainted away, and had like to have disappointed the priest-catcher of his reward. When he was a little recovered they jogged on again, but again the old gentleman grew very sick, and plainly told his governor that he could no longer sit on horseback. Then yon shall lie on horseback, quoth Cuthbert, for to York Castle you are sent, and to York Castle you shall go, with leave of the Lord. Accordingly they laid the prisoner on the horse,
JOHN LOCKWOOD
Cuthbert still riding behind, with one hand managing the beast and his prisoner with the other. And thus moving on by easy marches, after many a halt, and many a sick fit, and fainting away, he brought his charge alive to York, where they made an odd appearance in the streets, and had many lookers on. A passage well remembered,’ says Mr. Knareshorough, (from whom we have transcribed it), ‘ and spoke of to this day by the ancient inhabitants of that city, with indignation and horror.’
Cuthbert having now performed his task, and delivered up his prisoner to the jailer, was making haste homeward, when Mr. Lock-wood very friendly called to him, and at the same time pulling out his purse, ‘ Hark you, Cuthbert ' says the old gentleman, ‘ I have e’en given you a great deal of trouble in bringing me to this happy place; here, take that angel for your pains, and the Lord be with you.’ And five shillings more he gave to the under priest-catcher for his share in the trouble, and so they took leave of each other, and parted very good friends.
At the next assizes Mr. Lockwood, with his fellow-prisoner Mr. Catherick, was tried and condemned, and though they were for a short time reprieved by the King, the clamours of the Parliament against reprieving priests were such at that tim^e, that His Majesty, though as it is thought very much against his inclinations, signed the dead warrant for their execution. And accordingly on the 13th of April, 1642, the King and the Prince of Wales, with many lords and persons of distinction, being then at the manor in York, Mr. Lockwood and Mr. Catherick were laid on a hurdle, and drawn through the streets of York to the place of execution, to suffer according to sentence.
After some time employed in private devotions, the Sheriff appointed Mr. Catherick to w'alk up the ladder. He moved towards it in obedience to orders, but shewed by his countenance that the fears of death had encompassed and oppressed his soul, which Mr. Lockwood observing stepped forward, and planting himself at the foot of the ladder, ‘ Mr. Sheriff,’ says he, ‘ under favour the place is mine; I am his senior by many years, and therefore with leave I challenge it as my right to mount the ladder first.’ Then applying himself to Mr. Catherick, ‘ My dear brother in Jesus Christ and fellow- sufferer,’ says he, ‘ take courage. We have almost run our race; shall we faint and be tired when in sight of the prize? Oh let us run in spirit to our Saviour in the garden and call upon Him in His agony and bloody sweat. O blessed Lord Jesus! who submittedst Thyself to death, for the example and comfort of Thy servants at the hour of their deaths, be near us, we beseech Thee, at this moment; moderate our fears, strengthen our faith, and confirm our hopes, that, in obedience to Thy call, we may go forth to meet Thee readily and cheerfully, and thankfully drink of Thy chalice, how bitter soever to nature. O Jesus! sweeten it by Thy grace; help Thy poor servants that call upon Thee, that we may here lay down our lives in obedience to Thy holy will, and in defence of Thy holy religion, with constancy and perseverance. Lord Jesus, once more we recommend ourselves in this dreadful hour to Thee! Help us by Thy powerful grace, that Thou, O Lord, mayest be glorified in our deaths, and Thy Church and people edified.’
This done, the holy man began to climb up the ladder as well as he could; but finding himself out of breath, he made a halt, and turning to the Sheriff with a smiling countenance — ‘ Good Mr. Sheriff,’ says he, ‘ have a little patience with me. Indeed, this same climbing a ladder is a piece of hard service for an old man of fourscore and seven. However, I will do my best, for who would not take thus much pains, Mr. Sheriff, to get heaven at the journey’s end Then he began again to ascend, and with the help of two men, whom he rewarded with a shilling each, he arrived at the top of the ladder. Here, pausing a while to recover his breath, he inquired of Mr. Catherick, How he did? ‘ In good heart,’ replies he, ‘ blessed be God! and ready to suffer with constancy the death His providence has allotted me. Yes, my dear father, I am willing and ready to follow you, thanks be to my Lord and Saviour Jesus, who by His grace has strengthened me, and by your good example has encouraged me.’
Mr. Lockwood, overjoyed to see his companion thus disposed, prepared himself immediately for his end, and after a few words of edification to the people, and earnestly desiring the prayers of the Catholics, and exhorting them to constancy and patience in their sufferings, he employed a few minutes in silent prayer, and then delivered himself up to the executioner; and whilst with hands and eyes lifted up towards heaven, he cried oMt, Jesus, my Saviour! Jesus, my Redeemer, receive my soul! Jesus, he to me a Jesus! the executioner flung him off, and he soon expired.
When he was cut down in order to be bowelled and quartered, the hangman it seems scrupled at the butchery part, and for a time flatly refused it; and even taking a rope, threatened to hang himself, rather than imbrue his hands in innocent blood. But being at last prevailed upon by a wicked woman to undergo the drudgery, he fell to work like a fury, cutting, slashing, and tearing the bodies and
EDMUND CATHERICK bowels as well of Mr. Lockwood as of Mr. Catherick, hashing their entrails into small parts, and flinging them like a madman amongst the crowd. The heads and quarters of the two priests were disposed on the several gates or bars, as they term them, of the city; and Mr. Lockwood^ s head was fixed on the north gate called Bootham Bar, close by the King’s palace at the manor, where His Majesty then resided; insomuch that it was not possible for him to come out of the palace gate, or even look out from the east, but old EleazaBs bloody head was before his eyes, which must have affected his mind with some troublesome remembrances.
EDMUND CATHERICK, Priest.^
He was descended from the Cathericks of Carlton, an ancient family in the North Riding of Yorkshire, not far from Richmond. He performed his studies in the English College of and being there made priest, was sentupon th.e^ English mission about the year 1635, being then thirty years old. He stands with a fair character in the College Diary, and is particularly commended for his extraordinary meekness and for his zeal and labours in the mission. [R. D. Lockwood eadem hora secutus est R. D. Edmundus Catherick, alias Huddlestone, Eboracensis, in passione socius, eo quod Sacerdos esset. Vir mitissimus, et hujus collegii alumnus, annos hahens 37, quorum 7 in vinea Anglicana operarius strenuus impenderat. Diar. MSS. R. D. Ireland, ad annum 1642.]
After seven years’ labouring in the vineyard of his Lord, he was apprehended on the road, not far from Watlass, and was carried by the pursuivants before Justice Dodsworth, who had married a near kinswoman of Mr. Catherick, to whom it seems the good man some time before (having been invited as a kinsman to his house) had in private candidly owned that he was a priest; so that Mr. Catherick being now brought before him, the justice, without more ado committed him to York Castle, and afterwards appeared as evidence against him, making oath that the prisoner had owned himself a priest in his hearing. And it is the opinion of the people of that neighbourhood even to this day, says Mr. Knaresborough in his manuscript collections, that Mr. Dodsworth and his family for some4 years after felt the guilt of Mr. Catherick^s blood very heavy upon them in a long series of surprising and dire disasters.
He was condemned merely for being a priest. His behaviour at the place of execution was very religious and devout. He employed the whole time in prayer, while Mr. Lockwood was upon the ladder, and by his looks and reverend posture plainly shewed that his applications to God were full of affection and fervour. When Mr. Lockwood was turned off, Mr. Catherick was ordered up the ladder, and he cheerfully obeyed. His former fears were now quite dissipated, and a great calm and tranquillity had succeeded in his soul. When he was upon the ladder he again betook himself to prayer, earnestly desiring all Catholics there present to pray with him and for him. He spoke little, saying ‘ there was no need of it, for that his trial being lately past, whereat many of the company were present, they could all bear him witness that he was tried and condemned for his priesthood; and that for this only, and for no other treason, he was brought thither to suffer death. He prayed for the King, his royal consort, and their issue, that God in His mercy would shower down His blessings upon them, and send a right understanding betwixt his Majesty and his Parliament. Then he prayed for his persecutors, especially the person who was chiefly concerned in his death, that God would bring him to a sense of his crime and a speedy repentance; adding that for his own part he freely forgave him, as heartily as he expected and hoped for mercy and pardon of his own manifold sins at the hands of God.’
And now, recollecting himself again for a few minutes, with eyes and hands lifted up to heaven, he said. Lord, I obey. Be near me, O Lord! My sold hath trusted in Thee, let me not he confounded for ever. Then pulling a cap over his eyes he delivered himself to the executioner, who soon after turned him off the ladder, and he calmly expired, April 13, 1642. His head was placed upon Micklegate Bar. His bowels, or rather the fragments of them, were buried on Toft Green.
MR. WILKS, alias TOMSON, Priest, Confessor.
A LITTLE while after the execution of Mr. Lockwood and Mr. Catherick, another priest of the secular clergy died in York Castle under sentence of death. His name was Wilks, though he was commonly known by the name of Tomson. He was
EDWARD MORGAN born at Knaresborough in Yorkshire, was taken at Malton upon a market-day, and set in the stocks to be gazed at by the people almost the whole day, till a cutler of the town making oath that he knew him to be Lord Evers his priest, he was sent to York Castle, tried, and convicted, but died before execution.
EDWARD MORGAN, alias SINGLETON,
Priest.5
Edward Morgan was bom in Flintshire, of North Wales, and was educated in the English College of Doway. From hence he was sent into Spain (as appears by the account he gave of himself to the people at the place of execution), and there was made priest at Salamanca. From Spain he went to Rome, and from Rome he came upon the English mission. In England, after some time, he was apprehended and committed to the Fleet prison, where he remained confined for fourteen or fifteen years, suffering much from the loathsomeness of the place, and the want of all necessaries, more particularly during the two last years, with this additional aggravation to his sufferings, that some were pleased to give it out that he was mad; which slander he willingly forgave, amongst many other injuries which he had to suffer from the malice of his adversaries.
At length he was brought upon his trial in this Parliamentary persecution, and was condemned barely on account of his being a priest ordained beyond the seas, and remaining in this kingdom contrary to the statute of Elizabeth the 27th. No other crime was so much as objected to him. The sentence af death was pronounced upon him in the usual form, as in cases of high treason, on the 23d of April, being the Feast of St. George the martyr, the patron saint of England; which sentence he received with remarkable cheerfulness and even joy. Many Protestants as well as Catholics came to see him in prison after condemnation; and whereas the former proposed to him their queries and their objections against the Catholic religion, it was wonderful with what solidity, charity, and modesty he answered all their queries and refuted all their objections: so that on the one hand they found themselves quite overwhelmed with the weight of his arguments, and on the other so taken with his charitable and modest way of treating religious controversies that they could not help having a great respect for him, and a great compassion for his case. And ’tis affirmed that these conferences were of no small service to the souls of several of them.
As to the Catholics, many of them made their confessions to him, and these as well as the rest thought themselves happy if they could carry off anything that belonged to him to keep as a relic; insomuch that they cut off his very buttons and pieces of his cloak; till he was forced to give it up to be divided amongst them: and instead of it they furnished him with a new one to carry with him to Tyburn. Many wept and lamented his case, whom he comforted with cheerful words, flowing from the abundance of a heart full of joy at the approaches of so great a happiness as that of dying for Christ; declaring to them withal, to the greater glory of God, that though by nature he was timorous, he had now no manner of apprehension of halters, knives, or fires, or whatever else he could suffer for so good a cause; and that he should be even glad to have many lives that he might lay them all down in the service of so good a master. However, he begged that all Catholics would pray for him, that he might die like a true Roman Catholic priest^ that is, said he, with a constant humility, and an humble constancy; that no fear may terrify me, neither any presumption puff me up, or transport me out of the bounds of a Christian modesty in my words and carriage.
On the day after his condemnation he found means (which he had not been able to do for a year before) of celebrating in prison the tremendous mysteries, to prepare himself by that august sacrifice and sacrament for his death. And the Divine Majesty was pleased upon this occasion to visit his soul with such spiritual delights and heavenly consolations, that he was in a manner in an ecstasy, and found all the difficulty imaginable to proceed in the divine sacrifice; his devotion being particularly inflamed with the thought of the holy name of J’^5W5,from which he was obliged violently to divert his mind, crying out with blessed Xaverius, Satis est Domine, — It is enough, O Lord! — or he could never have finished. The dispositions which he found in his soul upon this occasion, he discovered in confidence to a priest of the Society of Jesus, who came to visit him that day; and the same, or another friend of his found him the following even-
EDWARD MORGAN ing in the like raptures of divine love and spiritual joys, though he had been wearied all the day with a continual crowd of people coming to visit and confer with him. The religious man, just now mentioned, asked the confessor of Christ if there was any thing in which he could be any way serviceable to him? he answered, that he should be glad of the prayers of the Society, and that his prayers should not be wanting for them; but withal taking him aside, he told him, that in the extremity of want under which he had laboured during the two last years of his imprisonment in the Fleet, he had been obliged to contract some debts to the value of about twenty-two pounds, which it would be a great comfort to him to see discharged before he died. The good father promised he would do his best to procure him that sum of money; which he set about without loss of time; and by the contributions of pious Catholics was enabled to carry him the whole sum the next day; for which in return the holy confessor promised his prayers for all his benefactors, and in particular for the Society oi Jesus.
The night before he was to suffer he spent in watching and prayer. The following day, being Tuesday, the 26th of April, 1642, about eight o’clock in the morning he was brought out of prison, and laid on a hurdle or sledge incommodiously enough, as well because his head was laid too low, as also because the rope which he had about his neck, was drawn so strait that he could scarce take his breath; but this being perceived was remedied in Holhorn; upon which occasion the sledge being obliged to stand, some one very courteously offered him a glass of wine to drink, which he did not refuse; and withal he took that opportunity of informing the people of the cause for which he was going to die; viz., barely for being a priest; whilst all the standers-by were in admiration at that cheerfulness and joy which they discovered both in his words and looks. The multitude of the people that accompanied the sledge was very great, yet no one in that great number offered to affront or insult him, but rather all shewed a compassion towards him. When they arrived at Tyburn, it was with the greatest difficulty imaginable that the Sheriff’s men could make room for the sledge, so great was the concourse of coaches, horsemen, and footmen there assembled to be spectators of the last conflict of this soldier of Christ. Yet as soon as they saw him, no other voice was to be heard in the crowd but Silence, Silence, all being desirous to hear his last words; and a great part of them standing with their heads uncovered.
As soon as he was put up into the cart, he sent to the Sheriff, who was at a distance by reason of the crowd, to ask leave to speak to the people, declaring that he had that regard to the authority of a lawful magistrate, that he would not speak without his permission. The Sheriff used his best endeavours to draw nigher, but could not, and therefore by the means of others that were nearer, gave him the leave that he desired. But first the servant of God before he would speak kneeled down in the cart, and there spent some time in silent prayer; then rising up, and disposing of his hat to a friend who was near, he waited a little while till all were silent, his countenance being all the while wonderfully serene and cheerful. He began by signing himself with the sign of the cross, and took for his text out of the Gospel of the foregoing Sunday^ those words of our Saviour, The good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep {St.John x.); acknowledging at the same time himself infinitely unworthy of that title, which properly belongs to Jesus Christ the true Shepherd of our souls, who died for us all; but withal inferring from this text that we ought also, by Christ’s example, and by the consideration of His dying for us, to be willing to lay down our lives also for Him; and affirming, that to die for being a priest of the Catholic Church, is to die for the Church of Christ, and consequently dying for Christ. ‘ There is but one God,’ said he, ‘ one faith, one baptism, one true Church, in which is found true hope of salvation, out of which there can be none; and for this true Church of Christ I willingly die; and I offer up my blood for the good of my country, and for the procuring a better understanding between the King and Parliament.’ Here he was interrupted by a minister, telling him to prepare himself for death, and not to stand seducing the people. The confessor replied. Sir, this is not a proper time for me to dispute with you; I beg you would not be troublesome to me now; and so went resolutely on with his discourse (though he was several times interrupted by the same minister), proving the true Church by its antiquity, universality, succession, &c., and demonstrating that the modern sects are all too new to have any claim to a succession from the Apostles, or commission from Christ. His words seemed to make no small impression on the hearers; who were also astonished at his intrepidity, and that wonderful cheerfulness with which he met death.
He also gave the people on this occasion a short account of his birth, parentage, and education; acknowledging himself to be a priest, and begging of God to forgive all who had slandered him, or been the cause of his manifold sufferings, as he besought His Divine Majesty to forgive his own innumerable sins. After he had finished his discourse, and the rope was now fastened in order to execution, he cheerfully said he hoped he should now he sent to heaven in a string. A minister taking him up, said it was now no time to joke. Mr. Morgan replied. Indeed this is no joking matter with me, but very serious; but why should any one be offended at my going to heaven cheerfully? For God loves a cheerful giver. Then after he had recommended his departing soul by prayer to God, the cart was drawn away; and he was suffered to hang till he was dead, and then was cut down, bowelled, and quartered.
He suffered in the fifty-seventh year of his age, April 26, 1642.
HUGH GREEN, alias FERDINAND BROOKS,
Priest.6
Mr. HUGH GREEN, who was known upon the mission by the name of Ferdinand Brooks, or, as he is called in Mr. Ireland's T>i2irY, Ferdinand Brown, was born in London about the year 1584, and after an academical education at Cambridge, became a convert, and went abroad to the English College of Doway, where he was admitted to the usual oath, and received alumnus, July 7, 1610. He was confirmed at Camhray, September 25, 1611, was advanced to the minor orders, and made sub- deacon at Arras, December 17, deacon March 18, and priest 14, 1612. He sung his first Mass on St.John Baptist's (l2Ly,June 24, and left the College on the 6th of August following, in order to enter himself amongst the Capuchins; but the want of health, or some other impediment preventing his going through with that difficult enterprise, he went over upon the English mission, where he laboured for many years, his residence being at Chediok in Dorsetshire, the seat of Lady Arundell.
When King Charles set forth his proclamation, commanding all priests to depart the nation by a certain day, and that at their utmost peril, Mr. Green took a resolution to withdraw upon this occasion, as many others had done. The lady of the house opposed the thing, saying it was to no purpose, the time allowed in the proclamation being now elapsed. Mr. Green had not seen the proclamation, but said with some assurance that there remained two or three days, and therefore he would make the best of his way to
Lyme the next sea-port, not doubting but he had yet time sufficient to have the benefit of the proclamation.
When he came to Lyme, and was going on board a vessel bound for France, he was roughly accosted by a custom-house officer, inquiring his name and his business there. Mr. Green very freely told him he was a Catholic priest, and that as such he was leaving the kingdom in obedience to His Majesty’s late proclamation. The officer answered that he was mistaken in his account, the day fixed in the proclamation for the departure of the priests and Jesuits being already passed; and therefore he was not to be allowed the benefit of the proclamation. And whereas he had owned himself a priest in his hearing he must be had before a Justice of Peace. Accordingly a constable was called, and Mr. Green was carried before a justice; and notwithstanding his pleading his good intentions of obeying the King’s orders, and that he hoped where the mistake was only of two or three days, advantage would not be taken of his unwary but candid discovery of his character, to the endangering of his life; he was by the justice committed to Dorchester gaol; and after five months’ imprisonment was tried and condemned to die, as in cases of high, treason, barely for being a priest. The following account of his martyrdom is copied from Mrs. Elizabeth Willoughby's MSS., who was an eye-witness.
‘ Upon Wednesday before the sentence of death being given against him by Judge Foster, he said. Sit nomen Domini Jesu bene-dictum in scecula, — May the name of the Lord Jesus be for ever blessed. He should have died upon Thursday, and to that end the furze was carried to the hill to make the fire, and a great multitude of people were in the streets, and at the gate, and lanes, to see the execution. But our great martyr did desire to die on Friday, the which was by a friend of his procured of the Sheriff, though with very much difficulty, being opposed by Millard the master-keeper. And it was noted that after his sentence he never went to bed, and eat but very little, scarce enough to sustain nature; yet was he very cheerful and full of courage to the last.
‘ Now I beseech our Lord to put his words into my memory, that I may expressly relate them, for I have a great scruple to add or take away; and therefore I have had the help of a true servant of God, who was attentive at his death; yet wx being two weak women cannot punctually remember all. Much admired was his devotion; he kneeling on the hurdle made his prayer, and kissed it before he lay down upon it, and continued his prayers until he came to the place of execution. Then he was taken from the hurdle, and stayed on the hill a good distance from the gallows until three poor women were hanged; two of them had sent him word the night before that they would die in his faith. Oh, what comfort was this to God’s true servant! who did all which was possible to see and to speak with them, but could not. Then they sent again to desire him that when they had made a confession of their sinful life at the gallows, and should give him a sign, that he then should absolve them. The which with great joy on his part, and much benefit (I hope) on theirs, was performed; they two turning their faces towards us, and throwing forth their arms, cried out to him, God he with you ^ sir; and so died; but the third woman turned from us towards the press of people, -and so she died, her face or speech never tending towards us.
‘ Now I also noted that our martyr’s charity in this short time of life was not unrewarded; for God of His mercy was pleased to yield him the like comfort, by a reverend father of the Society of Jesus ^ who was there on horseback to absolve him, the which with great devotion and reverence, taking off his cap and lifting up his eyes and hands to heaven, he received from him.
‘ I cannot but bless God to see the magnanimity of these two, our holy martyr and that reverend father. The one being at the point of death, with such comfort as his cheerful countenance expressed; and the other not apprehending the great danger he was in to be taken by the rude multitude, of whom he should have found no mercy.
‘ Now is our martyr brought to the foot of the ladder by the Sheriff, where, falling upon his knees, he remained in devout prayer almost half an hour; then he took his crucifix and Agnus Dei from his neck, and gave them to this devout gentlewoman, my assistant in this relation; and his beads he gave to another; also he gave the master-keeper his handkerchief. And last of all, to me, most unworthy, he gave his book of litanies, &c., also from the gallows he threw me down his band, spectacles, and priest’s girdle. Then turning himself to the people, and blessing himself with the sign of the cross, he began:
‘ There be four principal things which all men ought to remember; death, judgment, heaven and hell. Death is a horror to nature, but that which followeth is much more terrible, viz., judgment, if we die not as we ought; and as we dispose ourselves to good or evil in this life, so shall the measure of our punishment or glory succeed.
I am here condemned to die for my religion, and for being a priest. We know there must be priests, for God foretelling of the Church by the prophets, saith. Thou art a priest for ever, according /to the order of Melchisedech {Ps. cix.). And, From the rising of the sun unto the going down thereof, there shall be a clean sacrifice offered in my name {Mai. i.). Now, four things are to be considered, — a God, a sacrifice, a priest, a man. God must be served by sacrifice, this sacrifice must be offered by 2. priest, and this priest must be a man; such am 1, and therefore I must die. Wherefore do we receive holy unction, and are made priests, but to offer sacrifice to God? But I am condemned for being ordered by the See of Rome. St. Paul saith. The Romans have the Catholic faith {Rom. i. &c.), and gives God thanks that their faith and His were one, of which Catholic faith I am. Against this Roman faith all the sectaries cried out; and all heretics that have been since Christ oppugn this faith, and yet truly out of it none can be saved.
‘ There be four things more, — one God, one faith, one baptism, one Church. That there is one God we all acknowledge, in whom, from whom, and by whom all things remain and have their being. That there is one faith appears by Christ’s praying that St. Peter's faith (He said not faiths) should never fail; and He promised to be with it to the end of the world. That there is one baptism; we are all cleansed by the laver of water in the Word. That there is one Church holy and sanctified; doth not St. Paul say, that it is a glorious Church without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing } Now the marks of this Church are sanctity, unity, antiquity, universality; which all of w^.in all points of faith believe.’ Here the ministers interrupted him, and would have disputed with him; but he said he had been five months in prison, and in all that time not any one of them came to dispute with him. There he would not have refused any of them, but now that his time was too short for disputation. So he went on. ‘ But some will say. We arefalle?! off from this Church o/Rome; but in what Pope’s time, in what prince’s reign, or what are the errors, none can discover. No, this holy Church of Christ did never err. We have often offered public disputation, but it would never be accepted. No, this Church can never be impeached of falsehood in matter of doctrine; though scholars in school-points may differ, but never in points of faith. God is the author of all truth, and He hath promised to be with it even to the consummation of the world (St. Matt, xxviii.), until we meet all in the unity of faith, and knowledge of the Son of God; to the end we be not carried away with every blast of doctrine; because many heresies have risen with diversities of doctrine to oppugn the truth of God’s Church, as heretofore Arius, Nestorius, Wickliff, and others, so now in these our latter times, Luther, Calvin, Zuinglius, and the rest, whose doctrine at this present hath so inveigled the judgments of this kingdom; for God cannot be divided, nor served in many faiths. And although there have been many heretics, yet this Roman Church resisted, confounded, and condemned all heresies; and Luther himself confesses that his religion was not begun by God, neither should it be ended by God.
‘ Here a minister (one Banker, some say it was the minister who formerly had been a weaver, and now is chaplain to Sir Thomas Trencher), cried out with a loud voice. He hlasphemeth, stop that mouth of the blasphemer, cast him off the ladder; and so much noise was made by the multitude, that the Sheriff to content the people, desired our martyr to leave off that discourse; and silence being made, I truly pity our poor country, said he, with all my heart, to see what divisions are in it, and in religion no unity among you. Then he began to pray heartily for His Majesty, and that this kingdom might be settled in peace, the which he said would never be until there were unity of religion amongst them.
‘ Then he said, I am brought hither for a priest and a traitor. That I am a priest I have confessed, and as such I thought to have left this my country in obedience to his Majesty’s proclamation. I went to receive that benefit for my passage, but was refused, and taken upon pretence of some few days past beyond the limitation of the aforesaid proclamation, and brought to Dorchester prison, and am now for no other cause (I thank God) than for being a priest, to die, and not for any treason to my King or country. For I protest before Almighty God, I never wished hurt to my King or country in my life; but I prayed for His Majesty; and every day in my Memento at the Holy Mass I offered and recommended him to God. But there were laws made in Queen Elizabeth's days by which it was made treason to be a priest. By this law I am condemned for a traitor; but surely the ancient laws of this kingdom would never have done it, as the modern doth. And now judge you, whether the laws so lately made by men be sufficient to overthrow the authority of God’s Church and to condemn the professors of it?
‘ Nevertheless, I forgive all the world from my heart, and all those who have had a hand in my death, and I beseech you all, if I have offended any of you in any thing, that you will every one forgive me. I have not had a purpose to give offence to any of you; and I pray God give you all His grace to seek Him so, as you may be made able to attain His mercy and eternal glory.
‘ Then he called to me, and desired me to commend him heartily to all his fellow-prisoners and to all his friends. I told him I would, and that some of them were gone before him and with joy expected him. Then on my knees I humbly begged his benediction, so did five more of ours; and he cheerfully gave us his blessing, making the sign of the holy cross over our heads. Then one Gilbert Loder, an attorney, asked him if he did not deserve death, and believe his death to be just? To which he replied. My death is unjust. So pulling his cap over his face, his hands joined before his breast, in silent prayer he expected almost half an hour his happy passage by the turning of the ladder, for not any one would put a hand to turn it, although the Sheriff had spoken to many. I heard one bid him do it himself. At length he got a country clown who, presently, with the help of the hangman (who sat astride on the gallows), turned the ladder, which being done, he was noted by himself and others to cross himself three times with his right hand as he hanged; but instantly the hangman was commanded to cut him down with a knife which the constable held up to him stuck in a long stick, although I and others did our uttermost to have hindered him. Now the fall which he had from the gallows, not his hanging, did a little astonish him; for that they had willed the hangman to put the knot of the rope at his poll, and not under his ear as it is usual. The man that was to quarter him was a timorous, unskilful man, by trade a barber, and his name was Barefoot^ whose mother, sisters, and brothers are devout Catholics. He was so long a dismembering him that he came to his perfect senses and sate upright, and took Barefoot by the hand, to shew, as I believe, that he forgave him; but the people pulled him down by the rope which was about his neck. Then did this butcher cut his belly on both sides, and turn the flap upon his breast, which the holy man feeling put his left hand upon his bowels, and looking on his bloody hand laid it down by his side, and lifting up his right hand he crossed himself saying, three times, Jesu, JesUy Jesu^ mercy! The which, although unworthy, I am a witness of, for my hand was on his forehead; and many Protestants heard him and took great notice of it, for all the Catholics were pressed away by the unruly multitude except myself, who never left him until his head was severed from his body. Whilst he was thus calling upon Jesus^ the butcher did pull a piece of his liver out instead of his heart, and tumbling his guts out every way to see if his heart were not amongst them; then with his knife he raked in the body of this blessed martyr, who even then called on Jesus, and his forehead sweat; then was it cold, and presently again it burned — his eyes, nose, and mouth run over with blood and water. His patience was admirable, and when his tongue could no longer pronounce that life-giving mmQ Jesu, his lips moved, and his inward groans gave signs of those lamentable torments which for more than half an hour he suffered. Methought my heart was pulled out of my body to see him in such cruel pains, lifting up his eyes to heaven, and not yet dead. Then I could no longer hold, but cried. Out upon them that did so torment him. Upon which a devout gentlewoman understanding he did yet live, went to Cancola the Sheriff, who was her uncle’s steward, and on her knees besought him to see justice done, and to put him out of his pain, who at her request commanded to cut off his head. Then with a knife they did cut his throat, and with a cleaver chopped off his head; and so this thrice most blessed martyr died. Then was his heart found and put upon a spear, and shewed to the people, and so thrown into the fire which was on the side of a hill. They say the heart did roll from the fire, and that a woman did take it up and carry it away. This I speak not of my knowledge, but what is here reported to be true; and it may be very probable, because the hill is steep and uneven, and the heart not thrown as usually, but from the point of a long spear. Then did this gentlewoman and myself go to the Sheriff and beg his body, the which he freely gave unto us. Now did the devil roar, and his instruments the blinded Dorcestrians (whom with my soul I deplored) did fret and chafe; and told the Sheriff that he could not dispose of his quarters to Papists, neither should we have them. And truly I believe, that if we should have offered to carry them away, they would have thrown the body and us into the fire, for our number was but small, and they many thousands. Their fury did so rage against us that we were forced to withdraw ourselves; and had not I procured the master-keeper’s wife to have gone back with us to the town, they had stoned us, or done us worse harm, as I was told by many credible people; so great is their malice to Catholics, God in His mercy pardon and convert them. From the town we sent a shroud by a Protestant woman to wrap his happy quarters in; whom, it seems, God did send to us on purpose to do this last office unto His servant; for to us all she was a stranger, and lives twelve miles from the town. And when she heard us mourn that not any of us durst appear, she with a courage went and saw his quarters put into the shroud, and buried them near to the gallows, although she suffered many affronts from the ungodly multitude; who from ten o’clock in the morning, till four in the afternoon, stayed on the hill, and sported themselves at football with his head, and put sticks in his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, and then they buried it near to the body; for they durst not set it upon their gate, because the last before, which was long since martyred amongst them [Mr. John Cornelius Mohun, Anno Domini 1594], they set up his head upon their town gate, and presently there ensued a plague, which cost most of them their lives; so that still they fear, yet will not amend: God hold His merciful hand over them, or else I fear a severe judgment will befall them for this their last inhuman cruelty. I wish the contrary, and heartily pray that we may all partake of the prayers and sufferings of this our glorious martyr, whose magnanimity and patience were to me both admirable and profitable. And well did one minister say, who was present at his death, amongst forty more of his coat, that if many such men should die, and be suffered to speak as he did, they should soon shut up their books. This is credible, although for some respects the man is not named. Sir, this briefly is what I conceived myself obliged to signify unto you concerning this subject, not doubting but you will conceive the same comfort in reading it, as I did in writing the same unto you, who am, Sir, &c. < ^ Willoughby.’
This same account was not long after published in print by Chifletius, in his Palmce Cleri Anglicani, and the substance of it is found in the Doway Diary, 1642.
Mr. Green suffered at Dorchester, on Friday the 19th of August, 1642, in the fifty-seventh year of his age.
THOMAS BULLAKER, Priest, O.S F.7
Thomas BULLAKER, called in religion, Father Baptist, was born at Chichester in Sussex about the year 1604, of pious and Catholic parents. His father was a noted physician who brought up his son in the fear of God, and gave him a liberal education. At the age of eighteen he went over to the College of St. Omers under the care of the Fathers of the Society, and from thence, after a short stay, he was with divers others sent to the English Seminary of Valladolid in Spain. He had not been long here before he found a call to the Order of St. Francis, which grew daily stronger upon him; but then how to put this call in execution he knew not; being quite a stranger to the religious of that order (as they also were to him), and not so much as knowing the language of the country; and withal apprehending an opposition from the superiors of his college, were they to know anything of his inclinations. In this perplexity he had recourse to God, praying night and day with many tears, and using divers mortifications, such as hair-shirts, disciplines, lying on the ground, &c., till at length he took courage, and communicated the affair to his confessor, the Reverend Father Baker, S.J., and he, after examining his vocation and putting him into a spiritual exercise of ten days; and finding him still more ardently desiring to embrace the austerity, poverty, and humility of the Franciscan Institute, approved of his call, and joined with the rector of the college in petitioning for his admission into the celebrated convent of the Spanish Recollects at Abrojo, at six miles distance from Valladolid. The petition was granted to the great satisfaction of young Mr. Bullaker, now about nineteen years of age; who upon the receiving of the news, broke out into those words of the royal prophet, Lcetatus sum in his quce dicta sunt mihi, in domiirn Domini ibimus (Ps. cxxi.).
He passed his noviceship, and made his religious profession in the convent of Abrojo; and then was sent by his superiors to another convent of the order to study philosophy; and from thence to Valladolid to study divinity, which he began there, but finished at Segovia. And now being made priest, the Spanish province of the Recollects of the Immaculate Conception (in which he was professed) being about to send missioners to labour in the West Indies, he petitioned to be of the number; but his provincial would not consent to that proposal, but told him his own native country England had a better title to his labours, and stood as much in need of them as the Indies could do. Father Bullaker acquiesced, and willingly embraced the will of God notified to him by his superior; and having received proper licence and mission, and prepared himself by an extraordinary recollection and retreat of ten days, he set out upon his journey, which he made on foot (in a secular habit which he had begged) through a great part of Spain and France, in the midst of many dangers and difficulties, till he came to Bordeaux. Here he took shipping in an English vessel, and landed safe at Plymouth.
He was scarce come to his inn when he was apprehended upon the information of the master of the ship, and brought before the Mayor of Plymouth; and after examination committed to a filthy gaol in that town; where he suffered all kinds of extremities for eight days, having no other bed but the bare ground, it being the winter season and very severe. From Plymouth he was sent to the county gaol at Exeter, where he was put amongst the felons, and not much better accommodated than he had been at Plymouth;
only he received some small charities, from the few Catholics that were in that neighbourhood. In this prison he remained till the Lenten assizes, when he was brought to the bar in order to be tried; but no sufficient evidence appearing against him, his trial was put off. In the mean time, some friends having interested themselves in his favour at Court, he was sent for up to London and discharged. But what he had suffered in his imprisonment brought a violent fever upon him; from which he recovered indeed, yet so that he was never after a healthy man to his dying day.
Being recovered, he was sent by his superior into the country, where he laboured with great zeal and fruit for about eleven years; till hearing of the martyrdom of Mr. Ward^ he was inflamed with a vehement desire of glorifying his Master by the like death; which desire of his was increased by the news of the condemnation of the seven priests in the latter end of the same year. Upon this he quits his residence in the country, and with the leave of his superior, dedicates himself to the laborious employment of assisting the poor, the sick, and the imprisoned in London; in hopes of more readily meeting with martyrdom there, he takes a lodging for this purpose in the city, which was soon after visited by the pursuivants coming to search for a priest. What does he do upon this occasion? Instead of hiding himself, he goes up to the men, and boldly asks them. Am I the priest you search for? They answer. No. Why, says he, there is no other here. However, they said no more to him, but went their way; and though they returned again upon the same errand the next day, and found his chamber open where he was sitting at dinner in their sight, and his breviary was lying hard by on a table; yet they took no notice of him, nor so much as offered to come within his room, which gave him no small uneasiness; but his time was not yet come. What follows with regard to his apprehension, examinations, and trial, is an abstract of a manuscript relation written by himself, at the request of a reverend priest, a little before his death, published in the Certamen Seraphicum, p. 47, &c.
‘ On Sunday being the nth of September, 1642, it pleased Almighty God to assuage my sorrows by giving me good hopes that He had vouchsafed at length to hear my unworthy prayers, and would speedily grant my petition. For this morning in my devotions, immediately before Mass, having repeated again my former prayer with as much earnestness as I could, that God in His infinite goodness would grant me, though most unworthy, the favour of laying down my life for His sake; and^having said, as usual, the litanies of the Blessed Virgin, and begun Mass; when I was come to the hymn Gloria in Excelsis^ the apostate Wadsworth coming into the room seized me at the altar. I offered to take off my vestments; but he opposed it, saying he would have me, vested as I was, before the Sheriff of London. I urged the inconveniences that might follow to himself as w'ell as to me from the mob, if he conducted me through the streets in that dress. Upon this remonstrance he consented that I should put off my vestments; which he immediately seized, together with the books, beads, pictures, &c., and my silver oil-box; and then carried me, together with the lady of the house, before the Sheriff.
‘ The Sheriff asked me if I was a priest? I told him I was. Then, said he, how durst you presume to return into England, in contempt of the laws which prohibit priests returning hither under the severest penalties } I answered, because I was convinced that those laws were unjust, and therefore not to be regarded. I added that I believed if they went on as they had begun, they would soon make it high treason to believe in Christ; for it appeared how little regard they had to Him, whose image on the cross of Cheapside they had lately so grossly abused. Some of the standers-by asked me where Christ had commanded in the Scriptures the making of His image? I answered that though this was not expressly commanded in Scripture; yet it was agreeable to the law of nature, to which the divine law is no way opposite, to testify our love to a person by the regard we have to his picture or image; and thus both right reason and experience shew that the affront offered to the King’s image, is to be looked upon as done to himself, and is punished as such. What, then, must be thought of the affronts you have lately offered to the image of Jesus Christ, the King of kings? Then the Sheriff asked me for what intent I had returned to England? I answered, to bring back my country to the fold of Christ from which it was gone astray; that I was sent hither to this end. He asked me, who sent me? I answered, I was sent by those who had an authority to do it, delegated to them by the Pope. Then the Sheriff left me, and I was carried out by a back door into another street, by reason of the great concourse of the mob before the house-and conducted to the New Prison.
‘ On Tuesday morning I was carried to Westminster, to be examined before a committee of the Parliament, appointed for that purpose. When I came thither, Wadsworth brought in the vestments and other ornaments which he had taken, and laid them upon the table before the committee; one of them said they were but mean. They are too good, said I, for those that now have them. The chairman gravely said, As mean as they are, they can serve for an idolatrous worship as well as the best. What idolatrous worship, sir } said I. Why, said he, is it not idolatry to worship bread for God } I replied. We worship not the bread and wine for God, in the tremendous mysteries; but we worship Jesus Christ under the species of bread and wine, as the Church of God has always done from the days of the apostles.
‘ Whilst this controversy was in agitation, one of the company in looking over and examining the vestments uncovered the altar stone, and viewing the crosses upon it, cried out, that he had there discovered the number of the beast. I could scarce forbear laughing at his ignorance; but going up to him, I said. Pray, sir, since you are so well acquainted with the beast, be pleased to tell me what is his name. Then the chairman asked me how I durst presume to disobey the laws of my country? I answered with the apostles (Acts lY.), Judge you, if it be just in the sight of God, to obey you rather than God. Sir William Cawley, formerly my schoolfellow, said. You know, Mr. Bullaker, it is written. Fear God, and honour the King. I know it, said I, and I also know that the Parliament, which made it treason to be a priest, did also by law establish the government of the Church by bishops, the common prayer, and ceremonies; all which in this present Parliament you oppose. True, said he, but why may we not amend what was ill ordered before? This, said I, is what you attempt; but assure yourself that a Parliament will come, and that the very next Parliament that shall sit, in which that religion which you now pretend to establish {viz.. Presbytery) will be rejected and thrown out. He said I should never see that day. I know, said I, that the time of my dissolution is at hand, but what I have foretold will certainly happen.’ It did so; for after the Rump was dissolved there was no legal Parliament till the Restoration, when all their religious ordinances were annulled; this prediction was published in print in the Certamen Seraphicum, p. 57, anno 1649, i.e., eleven years before the event.
‘ Upon this they cried out I was a traitor, and that all their present troubles were owing to the practices of me, and such as me. I would to God! said I, there were not in this kingdom another kind of traitors, from whom the nation has reason to fear far more real and greater dangers; for after all your pretences of Popish plots, I defy you to produce any legal proof of any one single treasonable attempt of any Catholic, from the beginning of this Parliament to this present day. Then they asked how long I had been a priest, and how many years I had been in England? I answered that subducting out of my age (which was about thirty-eight) twenty-four years, I had been priest all the rest; and had been about twelve years in England. They asked, How many priests there were of our order in the kingdom? I told them though I was so free in confessing what related to myself, they were mistaken if they imagined I would betray my brethren, or bring them into danger; and therefore I should answer nothing upon that head. Here Wadsworth addressing himself to the committee, said. This man is so obstinate and resolute in his way, that he is not afraid to profess that if you send him out of the nation by one port, he will return by another; which though they interpreted to be a contempt, I there plainly affirmed. They asked me in fine, amongst many other things, Whether the Bishop of Chalcedon had given orders whilst he was here in England? I told them no. In conclusion, they sent my name, and my examination, which they had taken down in writing, to the Lord Chief Justice, and sent me to Newgate in order for my trial and execution.
‘ When I was brought to the court to be tried, I first made the sign of the cross upon my forehead, mouth, and breast, saying aloud. Per signum crucis de inimicis nostris libera nos Deus noster; and then humbly begged the blessing of the most sacred Trinity. The clerk of the sessions ordered me to hold up my hand, and my indictment being read, he asked if I was guilty or not guilty. I answered. If by guilty you mean a criminal, as if by taking orders I was guilty of any crime or fault, I am not guilty; but a priest I am, and that I will never deny. Then, said they, thou art a traitor. Had the kingdom, said I, no other kind of traitors, it would be in a far better condition than it is at present. At these words the court was silent for a while, and then they cried out I was a seducer. Now, said I, you give me occasion to rejoice, because you treat me with the same title as the Jews did my Saviour whom they called a seducer. I added that he that first taught the law of Christ to the English nation, viz., St. Augustine, was a priest like me, and was in like manner sent hither by the Pope, viz., St. Gregory the Great.
‘ They asked again if I were guilty or not guilty? I answered, I am not guilty of any treason, or any other capital crime; but I confess I am a priest, and that I was taken at Mass; nor will I ever deny my priesthood, though I were to die a thousand deaths for it; but to say that I am guilty in being a priest, as if there were any guilt in the matter, whereas nothing can be more honourable, that I will never do. Here they made a great outcry, as if I said, I was not guilty of any sin; I told them they did not take me right, for I acknowledged myself the greatest sinner upon earth; but what I meant was, that my being a priest, or saying Mass, was no guilt or sin. Then the Recorder said, Mr. Bullaker, you have here confessed over and over again that you are a priest, plead therefore to your indictment directly, guilty or not guilty. I answered as before, I am not guilty of any treason, but a priest I am. He urged. Your being a priest makes you guilty of treason, by your transgressing the law's of the land. I answered that those laws were not to be regarded which were repugnant to the law of God; that the heathens of old, and the Mahometans at present, had laws by which it was death to preach to them the law of Christ, but that the transgression of such laws as these could be no treason. I added that the Parliament which had made that law, by which priests were declared traitors, was certainly not infallible in making laws, a privilege which they would not allow even to the universal Church of God, which St. Paul calls the pillar and ground of the truth.' So far we have abridged the confessor’s own account of himself.
The Recorder directed the jury to bring him in guilty of the indictment; and though, as my author says, they boggled at it, and were for having the case referred to the Parliament, he proceeded to pronounce sentence upon him in the usual form. Father Bullaker could not contain his joy upon this occasion, but falling down on his knees with hands and eyes lifted up towards heaven, sung the Te Deum in thanksgiving to God; then rising, made a profound reverence to the court, thanking them for the great favour they had done him; and so with a remarkable cheerfulness and serenity in his countenance was conducted back to Newgate, where he employed the short time that remained of his mortal life in private devotions, and spiritual conferences with such of the faithful as applied to him about the concerns of their souls.
On Wednesday the 12th of October, 1642, he was brought out of prison and laid on the sledge, and so drawn to Tyburn, shewing all the way a wonderful cheerfulness in his countenance. At the place of execution he spoke to the people upon the text. Thou art a priest for ever according to the order of Melchisedech {Ps. cix.). He offered to speak of the real presence of the body and blood of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament, but was interrupted by the ministers; and after a little time was ordered by the officer to make an end. He readily obeyed, giving them hearty thanks for bringing him thither to die for the defence of his faith; a happiness which he said he had always aspired after, though he acknowledged himself unworthy of it. He received absolution from one of his brethren upon giving the sign agreed upon before; and then he employed a short time in silent prayer, standing as it were in contemplation till the cart was drawn away. He was cut down before he was fully dead, dismembered, bowelled, and quartered. His heart was saved from the flames by a priest of the same order, whom we just now mentioned. His head was set up on London bridge, and his quarters upon the gates of the city. He suffered in the thirty-eighth years of his age, the nineteenth of his religious profession, the fourteenth of his priesthood and the twelfth of his mission.
THOMAS HOLLAND, Priest, S.J *
Thomas Holland was bom in Lancashire in the year 1600, and was sent over very young to the English College of St. OmerSy where he employed six years in his studies, giving so great edification to his fellow-students, that he was more than once chosen by their votes prefect of the sodality of our Blessed Lady; and was remarkable for his talent in exhorting and encouraging his companions to piety and devotion. When he had finished his rhetoric, he was sent into Spain to the English Seminary of Valladolid, in August, 1621, where he went through the course of his philosophy. Whilst he was here Charles Prince of Wales arrived at Madrid, on occasion of the match then proposed with the Infanta Maria; and it was thought proper that the English seminaries in that kingdom should make their compliments to their prince upon his safe arrival. Mr. Holland was made choice of for this office by the Seminary of Valladolid, and performed his part by a Latin oration, pronounced before the prince, which is said to have given great satisfaction to his royal highness and his attendants.
After three years Mr. Holland returned to Elanders, and entering into the Society oi Jesus made his noviceship at Watten, and studied his divinity at Liege, where also he was made priest. From Liege he was sent to St. Omers where he was confessor to the scholars, and deservedly gained the esteem and love of all by his prudence, sweetness, and dexterity in the management of youth, and imprinting in8 their tender minds the fear and love of God. From St. Omers he passed to Ghent, where he was for some time minister of the house. He made his last vows May 28, 1634, and in the following year was sent upon the English mission, in hopes of recovering his health, which at that time was in a very bad state.
The change of air brought no advantage to his health, for the pursuivants being very busy in those days in making strict search after priests, he was forced to lie concealed in the day {London being the seat of his mission) under so close a confinement, that he scarce durst for months together walk out so much as into the garden of the house where he was harboured, by which means after some time he in a manner quite lost all appetite, and had even a loathing for his food. Yet notwithstanding these disadvantages. Father Holland found means, especially for the two last years of his mission when the times were the worst, to be very serviceable to the souls of many, by making frequent excursions amongst the poor, under the favour of the darkness of the night or early in the morning, and under various disguises necessary in those evil days, in which he succeeded so well, that sometimes his most intimate friends could not know him in his borrowed dress.
xAt length he was apprehended upon suspicion, October 4, 1642, and committed to the New Prison, where he was detained for about two months, till his trial coming on, he was removed to Newgate. His behaviour in prison was such as very much edified all that came near him; and it was in particular noted that he seldom went into bed, but spent a great part of the night in prayer. Yet he was very cautious to give his adversaries no advantage or opportunity of gathering from his carriage or behaviour that he was a priest; so that when he was brought to the bar, December the yth, to take his trial at the Old Bailey, though four witnesses appeared against him, they could allege no substantial proofs of his priesthood, but only bare suspicions and presumptions. However, upon these presumptions, and his refusing to swear that he was not a priest, the jury, to the surprise of the Lord Mayor and others in the court, brought him in guilty, and on the loth of the same month the Recorder pronounced sentence of death against him in the usual form. At the hearing of which Father Holland calmly said, Deo Gratias, Thanks be to God; and being sent back to prison, invited some other Catholics there to join with him in reciting the hymn of thanksgiving, Te Deum laiidamus.
He had now but a short time to live, being to suffer on Monday the 1 2th of December, and for this short time the prison was thronged
THOMAS HOLLAND with people of all conditions, as well English as foreigners that came to visit him. He received them all with a religious modesty, joined with a remarkable cheerfulness and courage, spoke handsomely to them with a smiling countenance in their respective languages (for he was a perfect master of the French^ Spanish^ and Dutch) ^ and his words made a strong impression upon them. The Duke of Vendome^ who was then at London ^ offered him his service to endeavour to put a stop to the execution, but Father Holland humbly thanked his Grace, and desired he would put himself to no trouble about him; as he had some time before, when he was first apprehended, earnestly entreated his superiors by letter that they would put themselves to no charges on his account, nor make any interest to save his life.
After Father Holland had allowed a great part of the Saturday to receiving of these visits, he then desired to be alone for the remainder of the evening, and on the Sunday morning, having heard the confessions of many, he celebrated Mass and administered the Blessed Sacrament to his penitents, after which he spent some time by himself in recollection, and the rest of the day in offices of charity to the souls of his neighbours. On this day the Spanish ambassador sent a gentleman to him, recommending the king and kingdom of Spain to his prayers, and letting him know that he had ordered prayers in his chapel for his happy conflict. The father returned thanks for all favours conferred on him and his by his Excellence and the King his master, and promised that he would pray to God to be their rewarder, and would for that end offer up his last Mass on the ensuing morning for that king and kingdom.
On the next day, being the 12th of December, having celebrated early in the morning the sacred mysteries, he was called down to the sledge about ten, to be drawn to Tyburn. It was observed that neither the Sheriff of London, nor the Sheriff of Middlesex were present on this occasion, which some interpreted as a testimony of their being conscious that the prisoner was unjustly condemned. Great multitudes resorted to the place of execution, to be spectators of the last conflict of this servant of God; amongst the rest, the Spanish ambassador with almost all his family. When the sledge was arrived at Tyburn, a Father of the Society, who had assisted Father Holland in prison, taking him by the hand bid him be of good courage, and behave himself like a man. To whom the confessor of Christ replied. With the grace of God, you need not fear; I shall not want courage. Then arising from the sledge, and perceiving the people to be very silent and attentive in expectation of what he should say, he began to speak to them (making the sign of the cross) to this effect.
‘ That he was brought thither to die for being a Roman Catholic priest; though this had not been made out by any legal proofs, for which he durst appeal to all and every one present at his trial. However, for the satisfaction of such as desired to know the truth, he there freely acknowledged that he was a Catholic and a priest, and by God’s great goodness, a religious man of the Society of Jesus, and the first of that order that had been sentenced to death since the beginning of this Parliament; for all which favours he returned hearty thanks to the Divine Goodness.’ Then he proceeded to tell the people that there could be but one true faith, one true Church, and no salvation out of it; when the ordinary of Newgate interrupted him, and bid him say his prayers to himself, whilst he talked with the two malefactors that were to die that day, and sung psalms with, them. The father did so, and when the minister had finished, he began to pray with a loud voice that all might hear him, and made fervent acts of faith, hope, charity, and contrition, offering his life and his whole being to his Maker, and begging that his sufferings and death might be accepted of through Jesus Christ’s passion, &c.. declaring withal, that he forgave from his heart, the judge, jury, witnesses, and all that had any ways concurred to his death; and praying for the King, Queen, and all the royal family, for the Parliament, and the whole nation; ‘ for whose prosperity and conversion to the Catholic faith, if I had,’ said he, ‘ as many lives as there are hairs on my head, drops of water in the ocean, or stars in the firmament, I would most willingly sacrifice them all.’ Which last words were received with a shout of the people, in testimony of their approbation.
After this the father, turning himself to Gregory the executioner, told him he forgave him also, and presented him with two crowns of money, which was all he had left. Then shutting his eyes for a while in silent prayer, and a little after opening them, and looking towards his confessor, who was there in the crowd, at this signal given, received his last absolution; after which the cart was drawn away and he was left hanging till he quietly expired; his eyes being observed to remain fixed on heaven, and his hands all the while joined before his breast. The minister would have had the hangman cut the rope before he was dead, but Jack Catch was more humane than the parson, and delayed till his pious soul was let loose from the body; and then he performed the usual butchery. IMany of the Catholics found means to carry off something of his blood, &c., as
THOMAS HOLLAND relics. And even there were not wanting some amongst the Protestants themselves, who highly admired and praised his virtues.
Father Holland suffered December 12, 1642, cetatis forty-two, Societatis nineteen. His true character was, ‘That he had extraordinary talents for promoting the greater glory of God, and that he made an extraordinary use of them. His knowledge in spirituals was such, that he was termed “ The Library of Piety,” Bibliotheca Pietatis^ and wherever he was in company, whatever the subject of the conversation happened to be, he would by a dexterous turn bring it to some moral or gospel instruction for the advantage of the company; imitating the great saint Xaverius^ of whom it used to be said, that in his conversation with the people of the world, he would go in at their door^ and come out at his own.'
Footnotes
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Ven. Thomas Reynolds, vere Green. — From Mr. Ireland’s Douay Diary; a Manuscript relation by Father Floyd, S.J.; another Manuscript in the Collections of Mr. Knaresborough; and Chifletius, in his Palmes Cleri Anglicani, printed at Antwerp in 1645; see also De Marsys, ii.; Acts of E. M. ↩
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Ven Bartholomew Roe. — From a Manuscript relation kept by the English Benedictines at Douay, and other Memoirs in my hands; see also Weldon’s Chronicle', De Marsys, ii.; Catholic Encyclopcedia. ↩
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Ven. John Lockwood, alias Lassels. — From the Douay Diary, by Mr. Ireland; and from the Manuscript Collections of Mr. Knaresborough; see also Gillow, De Marsys, ii, ↩
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Ven. Edmund Catherick. — From Mr. Knaresborough’s Collections, De Marsys, ii. ↩
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Ven. Edward Morgan, alias Singleton. — From the Douay Diary; from a Latin Manuscript by an eye-witness of his death, sent me from St. Omers; and from Chifletius’ Palmce Cleri Anglicani, printed at Antwerp, 1645, who declares in his Epistle Dedicatory to the Bishop of Antwerp that he received all his information either from eye-witnesses, or from such as were informed by eye-witnesses; see also Foley, Records, iv., v.; De Marsys, ii. ↩
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Ven. Hugh Green, alias Ferdinand Brooks. — From the Douay Diary, and a Manuscript relation of his death by an eye-witness; see also Gillow; De Marsys, ii. ↩
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Ven. Thomas Bullaker. — From F. Angelas a S. Francisco in his Certamen Seraphicum, printed anno 1649; see also De Marsys, ii. ↩
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Ven. Thomas Holland. — From his Life, published in Latin at Antwerp, anno 1645 [in Certamen Triplex]', and from the testimony of eye-witnesses and persons most worthy of credit; see also De Marsys, ii.; Foley, Records, i.; Gillow ↩
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