 Preface an author's note of a book of English martyrs. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by John Brandon. A book of English martyrs by E. M. Wilmot Buxton. The Preface by Dom Bede Cam, OSB. I have been asked to introduce this book to the public on the ground that the idea of it was obtained from some of my writings, and I have felt it impossible to refuse, though of course the author needs no introduction from me. For I am glad to have this opportunity of expressing once more my conviction of the extreme importance of familiarizing our Catholic children with the story of all that our fathers suffered in order to keep the faith alive in England. We owe them everything and we cannot afford to forget the debt. I am certain that devotion to these heroes of ours will do more than anything else to keep our own faith fervent, and by helping our children to realize at what a price this glorious heritage has been preserved to them, make them cherish it as their own most priceless possession. It is therefore not only a duty of gratitude but also an apostolate to make the story of the martyrs known, for we cannot love those whom we do not know, and we shall not strive to follow those whom we have not learned to love. There is yet another reason for making this story known, and that is the charity which we owe to those whom we are taught to pray for as our separated brethren. There is nothing which refutes so simply and so irresistibly the sophisms of modern Anglican theories of continuity and the like as the simple, unvarnished history of those who died in England for the Pope and for the Mass. The present writer was brought up, as are so many nowadays, in the firm belief that the church by law established was the true representative of the Old Catholic Church in England, the Church of Anselm, Dunstan and Moore. It was the beatification of our martyrs in 1886, which first directed his attention to them, and in reading their history he soon found the whole fabric of this belief tumbling about his ears like a pack of cards. Why did these martyrs suffer torture and death? Simply for clinging to the faith of their fathers. They had not changed their religion. They were not the innovators. They died because they held dearer than life the old faith of old England. We cannot serve two masters. We must choose between the cause for which these men fought, that is the old religion, and the new religion of their persecutors. If we wish to have our part with Moore and Campion, we cannot serve the Church of Cranmer and Elizabeth. Thus the history of the martyrs has an important apologetic value, and we trust that among the readers of this book there will be many of whom the facts recounted may come as a revelation, as a first gleam of light in the darkness. For the martyrs of England are still carrying on their apostolate, still pointing their beloved countrymen to the rock whence they were hewn. But the primary intention of the author has been to make Catholic children familiar with their glorious story, and so to make them more enthusiastic lovers of their holy religion. And I think that this aim is accomplished, for the book is written with knowledge and is instinct with enthusiasm. I hope that she will be encouraged by the reception it receives. To continue the story into the seventeenth century, where there are martyrs not less splendid to tell of, stories not less full of high adventure and thrilling interest than those here recounted. The reader will not fail to grasp how futile are the Calomnes which would brand our martyrs as traitors to this state. As one of them said at the very foot of the gallows, you may make the saying of a blessed mass treason. You may make the saying of a Hail Mary treason. But other treason than this have I never committed. These men prayed with their dying breath for the sovereign whose cruel laws sent them to their doom. And not one of them but might have saved his life had he consented to attend even once the Protestant service. Not disloyalty, not treason, but conscience was their true offense. We hope that no one will think that we have any desire to rake up all grievances or to stir up the dying embers of controversial strife by thus dwelling on the memories of these heroes of the faith. We have long ago forgiven the horrors of Tyburn. The only revenge that we desire is the divine vengeance of Christ's martyrs who cry beneath the altar of God. How long, O Lord, how long? Their one desire on earth was the conversion of their dear England. That, we may be sure, is their prayer now. It is also our own. Of late years devotion to our martyrs has happily found a local center among us at Tyburn Convent. The ceaseless intercession, the public novenas, the processions, the pilgrimage is there, have done very much to incendal and to strengthen enthusiasm and love for their dear memories. It would be well if all who read this work were able to make a pilgrimage to Tyburn to honor those whose outpoured blood has made it the holiest spot in all our land. There they will find many memorials, relics, statues, pictures, stained glass windows, telling the deathless story of suffering and triumph. Children should be taken there to learn the stories in the windows and to pray before the sacred images of those whom this book will then have taught them to love. Downside Abbey, 4th of March, 1915. Author's Note It has been the endeavor of the writer of this book to tell the story of the English martyrs, wherever possible, in the actual words of the records or letters of the time. There has been no need and no attempt to color the story in order to heighten its interest. For the accounts available, though matter of fact and often very simple, breathe a spirit of fervent faith and high adventure that should appeal to every right-minded boy and girl of today. That the story told here is incomplete goes without saying. It has indeed only been possible to include the two and thirty martyrs whose lives form the subject matter of this book, by grouping them together according to the particular point of history which their martyrdom best illustrates. The story has also been confined to the 16th century by limits of space, and because the next century opens up a new phase in the persecution which can best be dealt with in a separate volume. For much fuller information and further illustration of this most interesting period of Catholic history, amongst the many to whom the author owes a debt of gratitude, she would center young readers to cardinal gaskets Henry VIII and the English monasteries, and his last abbot of Glastonbury. To Father Morris' troubles of our Catholic forefathers, and his life of Father John Gerard, to Father Bridget's blessed Thomas Moore, and blessed John Fisher, to the lives of the English martyrs Vol. 1 and 2, edited by Dom Bede Chem, and Vol. 3 edited by Dr. Burton and Father Pollan, to Dom Bede Chem's forgotten shrines, to Dr. Allen's martyrdom of Campion and defense of English Catholics, to Parsons' life of Campion, and to The More Modern Life by Richard Simpson, to Kenan Joseph's One Generation of the Norfolk House, to Chaloner's Memories of Missionary Priests, and to Gillow's Dictionary of English Catholics, EMWB. Hove, Easter, 1915. End of Preface and Author's Note Recording by John Brandon Chapter 1 of a Book of English Martyrs This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings were in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by John Brandon A Book of English Martyrs by EMWB Chapter 1 The Road to Tyburn May 4, 1535. Arbor, Decora et Fulgida The bright sun of a London spring was shining cheerfully, one may morning upon the narrow unpaved streets and crowded houses of the city, folk were astir early that 4th of May in the year 1535, hurrying in groups of three or four to line the byways, as though eager to secure good places from which to view some great procession. News travels slowly in those days, and a young man just arrived in London from the North Country might well be utterly ignorant of the cause of the unwanted excitement. Such in one, we might imagine, pushing his way eagerly through the crowd, fast gathering in close ranks round the gates of the tower, and having gained a place of vantage, we can hear him questioning a grave-faced onlooker at whose side he found himself. Is it a royal procession good, sir? Doth the king be like passed by this way with the new queen? Nay, said the other. Tis a procession indeed, but a sad enough sight, me thinks, for a bright May morning. But see there, for yourself, the gates open, and they come. There was a shout or two from the crowd, but on the whole the onlookers viewed in astonished silence a sight that was strange indeed to Catholic England in the year 1535. A broken-need horse urged forward by much use of the whip was dragging behind him a hurdle, upon which lay bound a venerable, old man in the robes of a Cartesian monk. Behind him, in like fashion, were drawn three other monks, and an old secular priest in his cap and cassock brought up the rear. Through the filth and mud of the unpaved streets they jolted covered with mire their heads to the horse's tails. Yet upon their faces a look of strange joy and peace as they passed on their way of sorrows to Tyburn Tree. These being no traitors surely, said our young countrymen deeply stirred. What can be the meaning of it? His companion looked cautiously about him, but the crowd was fast-thinning as the people hurried in the wake of the procession and he was able to speak without fear of being overheard. These be the three holy priors of the Charter House, he said. John Hawson, prior of the London House and Dom Robert Lawrence and Dom Augustine Webster from the country convents of Bovell and Axholm. After them is drawn Richard Reynolds of the monastery of Scion, down Islesworth Way, a Bridgeteen monk, and he that came last his father John Hale, vicar of Islesworth. But what wrong have they done, questioned the lad? Have they given up the faith and turned heretics like the followers of Master Tyndale and of the German friar Martin Luther? Nay, said the other with a strange smile, far from it. But let us walk together to Tyburn for I would faint see the end of these good men and we will talk by the way. Before you go, however, look up at these walls and tell me if you know who lie in prison there these many months. The boy looked up at the frowning grey walls of the tower and shook his head. Tell me, good sir. His companion pointed to a narrow window in the Beauchamp tower overlooking the courtyard. There, said he solemnly, Sir Thomas Moore, late Chancellor of England, keeps his state and yonder in the bell tower lies Bishop John Fisher of Rochester, very sorely sick and awaiting the call of death. Both these are here at the King's pleasure for the same fault that has brought young holy priors to the gallows. But what is their fault? cried the youth. Why, in my part of the country we regard these monks with the utmost reference and more especially the cartouchians, for it is well known that their dress is meaner and poorer than that of other monks, so short and scanty and rough at the very sight of fright's one. They wear coarse hair-shirts next their skin, fast nearly always, eat only bran bread, never touch flesh, and have but one meal a day. That is very true, replied his companion, and amongst all the holy brethren prior hoten was one of the holiest and humblest of all, and greatly beloved by his monks. And now, if you will be patient with an old man's tale and let him tell it in his own way, I will tell you what has brought them to this condition. To this the lad eagerly assented and as eagerly listened as they walked on the outskirts of the crowd along the three long miles that lay between the tower and Tibern. For some minutes his companion seemed lost in thought, for which worstly rousing himself he presently offered a sort of apology. It is just twenty-four years since I passed here on my way to see the great procession that hailed King Henry on his marriage with Queen Catherine. A gallant youth he was indeed. And we who care deeply for our faith rejoiced to think we had a ruler who delighted in theology as others did in tennis and who indeed might have been our archbishop had his brother Arthur live to be king. I remember well how firmly he stood by Pope Julius II in his league against the French invaders of Italy and I was present when the legate landed at Dover with the golden rose blessed by the Pope and sent to his well-beloved son Henry. Four years after his accession the new Pope Leo X sent him a consecrated sword and cap which the king was proud to wear in procession to send Pauls over yonder. Were those the days of the cardinal Woolsey Goodser? asked the youth. He was then beginning to make his influence felt was the reply. But it was in the years that followed the years of the French war and the Holy League that he really came to the front. Most men in England hated and feared him and some of us think that the worldly spearth in which he worked his will and his own selfish ambitions were the grounds for much of the king's action in later days. But surely they brought about a terrible fall for the cardinal. I and some think no less terrible fall for King Henry, young sir. Yet in those days Henry was still a devoted servant of the church and the cardinal himself was known to have written to Rome that the king will be ready to expose his person and Goods to support the honour and dignity of the Holy See. Barely two months before the death of Leo the Tenth he had conferred upon Henry the noble title Defensor Fidei, Defender of the Faith which strangely enough he still holds with pride. You know, he thinks, why it was given him? And of the book he wrote in defense of our Catholic doctrines against the ex-monk Luther? A book which so expressly and clearly supported the supreme authority of the Holy Father that even those, that even those who had had doubts of the divine origin of that authority were at once convinced. What then was the cause of this sudden change in the king's mind? That is what I have never clearly grasped, said the boy. May have it was not so sudden as it seemed, replied the other. There were those among us who marked with dismay even in those days the extravagance of the king, the good for nothings, who thronged the court, the growing indifference of His Majesty to our good Queen Catherine. Self-pleasing and laxity of life suit not well with the precepts of our holy faith, and one who was as mighty a spendthrift as his father was a miser, had already begun to look covetously upon the rich lands of the monasteries, the gifts of pious donors in bygone years. Meantime, however, His Majesty had other matters on hand. His thought that it was early in May of the year 1527, the year that Bullse went to France to make an alliance with the king of that land, that Henry first told him that he intended to put away his queen, Catherine of Aragon, on the plea that her previous marriage with his brother, Arthur, made their wedlock an unlawful bond. It was not, however, till the Cardinals returned that he realized the truth of the case, that the king had fallen in love with the queen's waiting woman, Anne Boleyn, and was determined to make her his wife. It was in 1529, now nearly six years ago, since that strange trial took place in the great hall of the black friars before the pope's legate, Cardinal Campagio, and our Cardinal Bullse. The queen, you must know, refused to plead before such judges, made a dignified appeal to the pope, and then withdrew. The trial went on, and a week later, John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, rose and declared that a two years study of the question had convinced him that the marriage tie was even more sacred since Christ's day, than when John Baptist died for it. From which time the king hath never ceased to look with an evil eye upon that good bishop. Nothing came of the trial, as was clearly meant by the pope beforehand, as far as judgment on Catherine was concerned. But from that time dated the resentment of Mistress Boleyn, as she was then, which brought about the fall of Woolsey. Let us leave him now, though, me thinks. I would rather he lay today with Bishop Fisher, ready to make a glorious end for his religion, than in his unhonored grave at Lester Abbey. That was in 1530, and two years later, the king was privately married to Anne Boleyn. To the latter part of this information, the lad had listened somewhat impatiently. I know, he said, that the king hath married the queen in the face of Holy Church, and that many of us say it is no marriage at all. But what has this to do with the priors yonder? Whose limbs are by this time well nigh rent asunder by the jolting of those hurdles? Surely they had no voice in the matter of the royal marriage. See, my son, how one thing hangs upon another, replied the old man gravely. No sooner had Henry disobeyed the head of the church in this matter, than he must needs justify his position. His advisor was now Thomas Cromwell, whom no doubt you know as Thicker General, which he hath been made this year. Already, too, a suggestion had been made by one Thomas Cranmer, a private tutor whom the king had met at Waltham Abbey when he stayed there on a royal progress, soon after the trial of Queen Catherine had been dropped. This man said that if the universities of Europe would pronounce in favor of the divorce, the king would have sufficient authority in which to act. It was a lucky suggestion for him, for after being made private chaplain to Anne Boleyn in less than three years he sitteth as Archbishop of Canterbury at Lamberth Palace, though a priest twice married, and full, they say, of the new doctrines taught by Master Tyndale and his followers. Thus were the first steps taken in the direction of throwing off the authority of the Holy See. And now the king began to realize to said what he, wise, and far-seeing sovereign though he be, had taken three and twenty years to discover. And that was the fact that bishops and abbots at their consecration make an oath to the pope, clean contrary to the oath they make to him, so that they seem his subjects and not the king's. But surely that oath have been taken since the days of Anselm, without harm coming of it, by the boy who was himself something of a scholar. That is so, but it gave the king the foothold he needed in trying to make the clergy answerable to his authority alone. On the day that they submitted their ancient rights into his hands, Sir Thomas Moore surrendered the great seal, the symbol of his office as chancellor. I had heard of that, said the youth. Indeed, many in my part of England blamed him for so doing, saying that the king had not yet thrown off subjugation to Rome and was busy about the punishment of heretics at that very time. And meantime, said his companion, Dr. Lee, Henry had got Cranmer to declare his marriage lawful and was openly scoffing at the people communication, which naturally descended on one who was living in sin and in open defiance of the authority of the church. In the year that Anne was crowned queen, a sorry ceremony, when not a man cheered or uncovered, as she passed through the streets, it was ordered by the king's council that none should preach at Paul's cross without declaring in his sermon that the pope's authority was no greater than that of any foreign bishop. Then came last year's parliament, which abolished all payments to Rome, ordered that bishops were to be elected at the king's will and passed the famous Succession Act, which not only declared the king's first marriage to be against the laws of God, but entailed the succession to the crown on the children of Anne Boleyn. This, as you know, deprived the young princess Mary of her rights and made the princess Elizabeth then, but a few months old, our future queen. And moreover, the oath to support the succession was ordered to be taken by every person over sixteen. In the April of that same year, a nun named Elizabeth Barton was executed with six of her adherents for claiming an inspiration from God that bad her declare the displeasure of the Almighty with the king's divorce. And this me think so frightened people that many hastened to take the oath when it was clear against their conscience. The first to refuse publicly was Sir Thomas Moore. And Bishop Fisher soon followed his example. Within a few days, both these good men were sent to the tower where they still lie, as you saw just now. This was in the April of last year, and soon after did Kramler begin a visitation throughout his province in order to get the signatures of the clergy to the oath. And to a declaration that the Bishop of Rome has no greater jurisdiction conferred upon him by God in this kingdom than any other foreign bishop. Presently, therefore, his commissioners came to the charter house and demand the oath of prior hoten. So occupied was this good old man with the things of God and so far removed from worldly matters that at first he saith that what lady the king was pleased to marry or divorce was no concern of him or his monks. But you must declare the king's first marriage invalid, said they. And that, he said very simply, I cannot do since the pope must know better than I. At that he was ordered to the tower, but after some weeks he was persuaded, good simple soul, by various learned men, that the oath might be taken with the qualifying words as far as was lawful. His monks tis said understanding little of the matter openly rejoiced in this solution, at which he solemnly warned them saying our hour is not yet come. And then he told them of a dream he had had the night before leaving the tower. When he had been warned that with any here he should return to the same prison and there finish his road of martyrdom. Now, late last year, there's no doubt you know an act was passed by a parliament proclaiming the king supreme head of the church in England and declaring the oath touching the succession to be binding on every subject in the realm. Early in the present year, therefore, prior Houghton was visited by two country priors, Lawrence and Webster, who wished to consult with him as to the course they must take. The prior told them that he had already assembled his convent and put the matter before them. But he knew that a worse trial than death was before them and warned them that while he himself and some of the older monks might suffer death, the young novices would be cast out into a world for which they were entirely unfitted. He determined, therefore, to go with his brother priors to Cromwell, lately appointed vicar general to the king and beg him to soften in some way the terms of the oath. Will you obey the king as supreme head of the Church of England?" asked Cromwell bluntly. We cannot acknowledge him as such, said they. Fourthwith they were committed to the tower and with them Richard Reynolds, a Bridgantine monk who had refused the oath and Old John Hale, vicar of Isleworth who had limited the king's cruelty and oppression to a young priest named Feren who afterwards betrayed him. Tis well known that at their trial last week the jury refused to fight a verdict against them, being horrified at the thought of condemning such holy men to a cruel death. But Cromwell himself came down and raged at them so that at last they were terrified into a verdict of high treason. By this time the speaker and his young companion had reached the spot now known as Marble Arch and formed part of a vast crowd of onlookers, silence and awe for the most part in the midst of which the gallows, the fatal Tyburn Tree. By dint of scrambling up the lower branches of a neighboring tree, the lad could see that prior haughton, still in his monk's robe was standing on the ladder which rested against one of the supports and that from below a man in the robes of a king's counselor was urging him to yield and promising him pardon. What sayeth he in answer? asked the lad's companion. Hush! I can't hear him for myself, said the boy as a clear, gentle old voice floated over the heads of the crowd, now profoundly silent. I call God to witness and beg of you all to bear me witness at the dread judgment day that he are about to die. I declare publicly that I refuse to comply with the will of our Lord the King, not out of any pertinency, malice, or rebellious disposition, but only from the fear of God, lest I should offend his sovereign majesty. Seeing our holy mother the church has decreed and determined otherwise than the King and his parliament have ordained. Wherefore, I am obliged in conscience and am also ready and not dismayed to offer these and all possible torments rather than oppose the teaching of the church. Pray for me and pity my brethren, whose unworthy prior I have been. Then came a pause. What doth he know? asked the elder man. He commanded his spirit into the hands of God, replied the lad's odd voice, and now they turned the ladder so that he hangs by the neck, and now they cut him down while he is yet alive. Ah! and the rest I cannot bear to look upon. But Hark! surely tis his voice again. Then in faint but full of fervor came the words from that bed of torture and death. Most holy Jesus have mercy on me in this hour. A moment later he spoke his last words, and the lad white and trembling as he descended from the tree whispered to his companion that as the executioner in his brutal office laid his hand upon his heart to tear it from his breast, the old man said gently, Good Jesus! What wilt thou do with my heart? And so died. What of the others? His companion asked bystander, some time later, when he had led his unnerved companion away from the dreadful scene, the reply was emphatic. It is long since persons have been seen to die with greater constancy. No change was noticed in their color or tone of speech, though they saw the execution of their friends before they died themselves. But while it was going on, they preached and exhorted the bystanders with the greatest boldness to do well and obey the king in everything that was not against the honor of God and the church. Do not such brave words cheer thy sinking heart, my son? said the old man to his young companion. And was it not truly a royal procession along the way of sorrows that we have witnessed together, even as that of our master on the road to Calvary? But the lad was still stricken with horror. How could these things be in Christian England, he gasped. Surely the very stones will cry out against such treatment of holy men and will be the last time that men look upon such a sorry sight. He is the first, but will be by no means the last, said the old man solemnly. I see, methinks, a long procession of martyrs, monks, secular priests, and laymen, passing along to Tibern Tree during the years to come. And the fruit borne by that tree, though bitter to the taste, shall be for the healing of the nation and the return of England once more to the true faith." And with these words they parted. End of Chapter 1, Recording by John Brandon Chapter 2 of A Book of English Martyrs This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Michael Curran. A Book of English Martyrs by E. M. Wilmot Buxton Chapter 2 Joyful Tribulations by Thomas Moore Part 1 If love be strong, hot, mighty, and fervent, there may no trouble, grief, or sorrow fall. But that the lover would be well content, all to endure, and think it eek, too small. Though it were death, so he might therewithal, the joyful presence of that person get on whom he hath his heart and love, he said. Sir Thomas Moore On that same 4th of May, when the Carthusians and their fellow martyrs were leaving the tower for Tyburn, a grey-haired prisoner with a singularly bright and cheery expression upon his worn face looked down upon them from the Beauchamp Tower and said to his daughter as she pressed close to him with a shudder at the sight, Lo, dost thou not see, Meg, that these blessed fathers be now as cheerfully their deaths as bridegrooms to their marriage? See then, mine own dear daughter, the great difference there is between such as have spent their days in a narrow and penitential life for their religion, and such as have in the world, as thy poor father hath done, spent their days in ease and pleasure. For God, considering their long lives of penance, speedily taketh them hence to the joy of heaven, whereas he leaveeth thy father, Meg, thinking him not worthy to come to that blessedness, leaveeth him here to be plagued and termoiled with misery. The words were those of a truly brave and humble spirit that shrieked not at all from death, seeing that this was but the means of uniting him to the divine friend whose lifelong lover he had been. Two months later Sir Thomas Moore, late Chancellor of England, had himself joined the tiny band of English martyrs that was to increase so fast in the days to come. From his earliest childhood Sir Thomas Moore had shown himself one of those happy souls that are so full of divine grace that everything to them is a cause of joy and merriment. The story goes that as a babe his nurse was carrying him on horseback across a river, when, just as they reached the opposite bank, the animals slipped and lost its balance. The frightened nurse flung the child as far as she could towards the shore and held on to the saddle herself until the horse had floundered into a place of safety. But when she ran in terror to seek the babe, she found him lying on his back in a ditch, laughing and chuckling to himself with glee. It was in the same happy spirit of humor that he was to meet all the adventures of his future life. He was born at Milk Street in the City of London in the year 1478, and was educated at St. Anthony's School in Threadneedle Street, close to where the Bank of England now stands. St. Anthony's was a free grammar school where he received an excellent grounding in Latin from one of the few born school masters of that time. It was the custom in those days to send promising boys, the sons of gentlemen or of nobles, to serve as pages in the houses of great ecclesiastics. And accordingly young Moore was sent, when he was thirteen years old, to the household of Cardinal Morton, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Lord Chancellor of England. There his bright face and ready wit soon made him a favourite. The Cardinal, usually a somewhat severe personage, would watch with a twinkling eye how the boy threw himself into the breach when an actor in one of the Christmas mumming plays fell out, and how he took the part without previous preparation, so that he made the lookers on more sport than the players themselves. And more than once as he stood behind his master's chair or poured the wine for some distinguished guest, the Cardinal would murmur to his neighbour confidentially, that child here waiting at the table, whoever shall live to see it, will prove a marvellous man. At the age of fourteen through Cardinal Morton's interest, Thomas Moore was placed at Canterbury College, Oxford, the future Christ Church or Cardinals College. His father had a large family and no money to spare, so the life of the young foundation scholar was not too easy. In afterlife he spoke gratefully of his training in this respect. It was thus, he says, that I indulged in no vice or pleasure and spent my time in no vain or hurtful amusements. I did not know what luxury meant and never learned to use money badly. In a word, I loved and thought of nothing but my studies. It was probably during this period of plain living and high thinking that he found time to study, besides Latin and Greek, French, music, arithmetic, geometry, and history. When he was eighteen years of age he entered upon his career as a barrister, becoming a student at Lincoln's Inn. And there while engaged in the study of law his mind was still occupied more fully by considerations as to whether he were not called to the higher path of the secular priest or the monk. For some years he lived near the Carthusians of the Charter House, frequenting daily their spiritual exercises, but without any vow. And though it was made clear to him in time that his vocation was to marry and bring up his children in fear of the Lord, it was no dread of the austerity of the religious life that withheld him. His great-grandson tells us that he oftentimes used to wear a sharp shirt of hair next to his skin, which he never left off wholly. No, not when he was the Lord Chancellor of England, which my grandmother, on a time in the heat of the summer, spying laughed at, not knowing where in the true wisdom of a Christian man consisteth. He added also to this austerity a discipline every Friday and high fasting days thinking that such cheer was the best he could bestow on his rebellious body. He used also much fasting and watching, lying often either upon the bare ground or upon some bench, or lying some log under his head. And with all this he was ever one of the merriest and most cheerful of men. While he was a student, more than just of age, made the acquaintance of the great Greek scholar Erassimus, and the two became close friends. Their letters give charming evidence of their mutual affection and appreciation of each other. Did nature ever frame a sweeter, happier character than that of more, asks Erassimus, writing to a mutual acquaintance? And in another letter, he gives an interesting glimpse of the royal family, and especially of the young Prince Henry, who was to play such an important part in the life of his most delightful friend. Says he, I once composed a heroic poem in praise of Henry VII and of his children on this wise. Thomas More, who, while I was staying in a country house, had paid me a visit, took me out for a walk to a neighboring village. There all the king's children except Arthur, the eldest, were being educated. When we reached the hall, all his attendants were assembled, and in the midst stood Henry, then nine years old, yet already with a royal bearing, betokening a certain loftiness of mind joined with a singular condescension. At his right was Margaret, about eleven years old. She afterwards married James, King of the Scots. At his left in play was Mary, four years old. Edmund, an infant, was carried by the nurse. More, after saluting Prince Henry, presented him with something he had written, as I was entirely taken by surprise I had nothing to offer, and I was obliged to promise to write something to show my respect. I was somewhat vexed with More for not warning me, and especially so since the Prince, while we were dining, sent me a note asking some fruit of my pen. So I went home, and in spite of the muses from whom I had long been separated, I finished my poem within three days. This, then, was the first encounter between More and the future King, who was to become his intimate friend, and thirty-six years later was to sign his death warrant. Another of More's friends was the learned Colette, the future founder of St. Paul's school, and one of our great reformers of education. Colette became More's confessor, and to him we find the latter writing in such affectionate terms as these. What can be more distressing to me than to be deprived of your most dear society after being guided by your wise councils, cheered by your charming familiarity, assured by your earnest sermons, and helped forward by your example so that I used to obey your every look and nod? So the years passed quickly by, enlivened by the society of clever and witty scholars such as these, until in the year 1505 More took to himself one closer still, his dear little wife, as he calls her in his own epitaph, composed some twenty years later. She gave him four children, Margaret, Elizabeth, Ceasley, John, and after six years of happy married life she died. Her husband, who had made her such, that he would willingly have passed his whole life with her, doubtless had her in mind when he wrote the lines, His four young children called urgently for a mother's care, and within a very short time Thomas More married a worthy soul seven years his elder, who, while she probably never understood in any way the depth and religious feeling of her husband's character, made him a good, sensible wife, and his children an excellent stepmother. Just before his first marriage, More had fallen into disgrace with King Henry VII, for opposing his unlawful exactions in the way of money. This seemed a bad beginning for the young lawyer, who had recently taken his seat as Member of Parliament. But a year before his second marriage, the death of the Old King placed Henry VIII upon the throne. This handsome young Prince, full of zeal for learning and religion, had not forgotten his old acquaintance, Sir Thomas More, who soon became a leading light in his profession and under-sheriff for London. It was now that he moved from his home in Wallbrook to Crosby Place in Bishopsgate Street without, the hall of which still remains, and has recently been moved bodily to Chelsea. Here his children began to grow up until Margaret, the eldest, was about 18 when the whole family moved to the beautiful house in Chelsea he had built for himself, a house commodious rather than magnificent, in the midst of a large garden stretching a hundred yards to the river's edge. Chelsea was in those days a little country village, some way from London Town, and generally approached by the river Thames, then a pleasant stream bordered by gardens and palaces. Here he wrote his famous Utopia, setting forth his ideas as to government and education, and meantime put them to some extent into practice by experimenting upon his household, which by this time have reached a considerable size. There were of course his own four children, of whom John, the youngest, would be 13 when the move was made to Chelsea. There were also William Roper, the young husband of his daughter Margaret, who had married at the age of 16, and his stepdaughter Alice Middleton, with her husband, also quite young people. Probably a lad named Giles Herron, a ward of Moor, and later on the husband of Ceasley Moor, made an eighth inmate. And Margaret Giggs, an orphan relation, was one of his own daughters. There was also John Clements, student and tutor, who afterwards married this Margaret. John Harris, the secretary, Henry Patterson, the fool, for whom Moor had a particularly gentle and kindly affection, and a little later a poor gentlewoman named Paula, who had lost her all in a lawsuit. This then formed the whole school to whom Moor writes those delightful letters of which lack of space forbids more than a mention here. He reminds them how, on returning from his journeys, he has ever brought back some cake or fruit or piece of silk to deck them, how he has always given them plenty of kisses, and but very few strokes of the rod, the rod itself being only a bundle of peacock's feathers. But Margaret, wedded to her boy husband, whom Moor rescued from the snares of heresy, was his special darling, to whom he wrote on terms of the most tender affection, and for whom his heart was wrung to its depths on one dark morning when she lay apparently at death's door with the terrible sweating sickness of those days. Kneeling before the blessed sacrament in his private chapel, Sir Thomas, says Roper, there on his knees with tears, most devoutly besought Almighty God, that it would like his goodness upon to whom nothing is impossible, if it were his blessed will to vouchsafe graciously to hear his petition. His prayer was heard, and a remedy the doctors had not tried occurring to him, he used it with such effect that the girl recovered. As it was thought miraculously, says her husband, adding whom if it had pleased God at that time to have taken to his mercy, her father said he would never have meddled and worldly matters more. If we remember the description given by Lady Jane Gray of her own childhood some few years later of the harshness of her parents and the abundance of slaps and pinches that fell to the lot of the ordinary child in those days, we turn with relief to this peaceful picture at Chelsea. There we see the witty father, with his merry eyes and keen-edged tongue, quick to soften in sympathy and understanding with her bright-eyed girls and boys, all eager to please him with their studies and yet sure of an equally sympathetic interest in their play or their small troubles. I never saw him really angry but once, declares Margaret Giggs, and yet this was no easygoing indulgence. None of the children was ever allowed to be idle. Mistress Moore's sharp eyes saw that each had his or her appointed task their father, when his official position prevented personal attention to the poor, would send some of his family to dispense his alms, especially to the sick and aged. In his parish of Chelsea he hired a house in which he gathered many in firm, poor, and old people and maintained them at his own expense. His daughter Margaret had the charge of this house when he was away. The training thus given to Margaret Giggs and Charity bore noble fruit later on when we find her ministering to some of our martyrs in Newgate before their death at the risk of her own life. Their actual studies he superintended closely. Girls and boys alike wrote to him in Latin and mealtimes were the scene of discussions in that language, sometimes deep, often merry, of some point raised in the daily reading. So charming and cultured in nature as Moore's was not suffered to hide itself within the borders of Chelsea. His son-in-law tells us that the king upon holidays when he had done his own devotions used to send for him and then sit and converse with him upon matters of astronomy, geometry, divinity, and sometimes of his worldly affairs. And because he was of a pleasant disposition it pleased the king and queen after the council had supped, today at the time of their supper, to send for him to be merry with them. Who when he was perceived so much in his talk to delight that he could not in a month get leave to go home to be with his wife and children, whose company he most desired, he began thereupon somewhat to dissemble his nature and so by little and little from his accustomed mirth to disuse himself so that he was not so often sent for. His advice, however, did not always save him from the royal importunities. We hear that such entire favor did the king bear him that he made him chancellor of the Dookie of Lancaster and for the pleasure he took in his company would his grace suddenly sometimes come to his house at Chelsea to be merry with him. Wither on a time on looked for, he came to dinner with him and after dinner the fair garden of his walked with him by the space of an hour holding his arm about his neck. Such marks of royal favor did not deceive the clear-sighted chancellor even in those early days when Henry was still outwardly at least a devout son of the church. For when roper expressed his surprise and gratification that he should be thus honored, Sir Thomas replied with a humorous look and a smile, like the Lord's son that I find his grace, my very good Lord indeed, and I believe he doth as singularly favor me as any subject within this realm. How be it, son roper, I may tell thee I have no cause to be proud thereof, for if my head would win him a castle in France it should surely not fail to go. The words were a strange presage of what was to happen ten years later. One is tempted to dwell on these peaceful days among the happy merry folk at Chelsea, watched over and fondly cherished by the keen-witted cultivated father, who in the midst of the world was accustomed to live the life of religious fervor and devotion of a monk. But the clouds were already threatening to blot out the sunshine of that ideal home as the king's character deteriorated and his court degenerated into a circle of vicious self-indulgent game-sters without a moral principle or a serious thought among them. It was as he was on the point of starting for France with Wolsey in order to bring about the peace of Amiens in 1527 that Moore would first hear of the king's pretended scruples concerning his marriage with Queen Catherine. We know that he and the Cardinals spent a night at the Bishop of Rochester's palace when Wolsey did his best to bring over the Holy John Fisher to the king's view, and we may safely conclude that Bishop Fisher was strengthened in his condemnation of it by the uprightness and sound principles of Sir Thomas Moore. Two years later, Wolsey's failure to secure the divorce for the master he had tried to serve better than his god had left him a ruined man and the Chancellor's seal had been handed to Moore as a successor. Everyone, writes a contemporary, is delighted at his promotion because he is an upright and learned man and a good servant of the Queen. In accepting this office, Moore himself had no choice, but he made it perfectly clear that if offered as a bribe it would certainly fail in its object. For on the occasion of his taking the Chancellor's oath in the great hall at Westminster, he said before the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, considering how wise and honourable a prelate hath lately taken so great a fall, I have no cause to rejoice in my new dignity. And as the dukes have charged me, on the king's behalf, uprightly to administer justice without corruption or partiality, so do I likewise charge them if they see me in anything to digress from my duty, not to fail to disclose it to his grace. I do not at all congratulate Moore or literature, wrote his old friend Erasmus when he heard of his elevation, but I do indeed congratulate England for a better or holier judge could not have been appointed. The office of Lord Chancellor was held by Sir Thomas Moore for two and a half years, during which time the unhappy question of the divorce of the king came more and more to the front. It was a sad and difficult time for one in such high position, for though Moore kept himself apart from all such matters as far as possible while they were yet undecided, he never hesitated to assert his own strong principles when called upon to act or speak. We have seen already how it came about that Henry, finding the Catholic Church would never grant him permission to put away his lawful wife, determined to defy that church in the person of a representative, the pope, and to be henceforth a law unto himself. In the May of 1532 we find the French ambassador to Poise, writing thus, Parliament is discussing the prohibition of holding synods without express license of the king. This is a strange thing. Churchmen will be of less account than shoemakers who have the power of assembling and making their own statutes. The king also wishes bishops not to have the power to arrest persons accused of heresy. The chancellor and the bishops oppose him. He is very angry, especially with the chancellor, and is determined to carry the matter. On May 16th, 1532, Sir Thomas Moore resigned the great seal into the king's own hands in the garden of York Place near Westminster. The reason given was that he was not equal to the work, but the actual cause of his resignation was well known. The chancellor has resigned, wrote a contemporary, seeing that if he retained his office he would be obliged to act against his conscience. Everyone is concerned, for there was never a better man in the office. The news was a great blow to his wife who had never understood his high principles and uprightness of character. He told her of it in his own humorous fashion. It was the custom upon holy days when his family attended the parish church of Chelsea in the choir of which he was wanted to sing, for one of his gentlemen in waiting to come to the door of his wife's pew when the mass was over and to say, Madam, my lord is gone. On the next holy day after he had given up the seal he came himself to the pew, and with a low bow he said to her, Madam, my lord is gone. Tilly Valley, cried the lady, what mean you by your silly jest? I mean, said he, that Sir Thomas More is no longer chancellor, having given up the great seal to the king. The wrath of Dame Alice was overwhelming and probably enlivened all the walk home, though her husband, half-ruful, half-and-fun, did his best to divert her attention to other subjects. The loss of this office reduced Sir Thomas More to comparative poverty. The strictest economy took the place of the old system of lavish expenditure. In cold weather he was compelled for the lack of other fuel every night before he went to bed to cause a great bundle of fern to be brought into his chamber and with the blaze thereof to warm himself, his wife, and his children, and many other fires to go to their beds. More bitter than cold or short rations of food, however, would be the necessary dispersion of his big family, his beloved school, and the pinpricks of tiresome and trivial charges that Henry was now at pains to bring against his once revered chancellor. In these it was easy enough to see the spiteful hand of Anne Boleyn, an opponent of the only measures that could in any way justify her position as Henry's wife. Thus he was accused of accepting the bribe of a silver guilt cup from a lady in whose husband's favor he had pronounced a verdict. Called before the council he was asked if this were so. Certainly the lady offered me the cup, said More. Though long after the decree was given, and I did accept it out of courtesy, at these words the Earl of Wiltshire, father of Anne Boleyn, exclaimed in glee, Aha! Did I not tell you, my lords, that you would find the matter true? And now perhaps my lord of Wiltshire would like to hear the end of the tale, suggested more quietly. When I had received the cup I caused my butler to fill it with wine, drank to the lady, and made her pledge me again. I did then oblige her to receive back the cup once more, and to take it as a New Year's gift to her husband. This combination of courtesy and integrity was so absolutely characteristic of the late Chancellor that even his enemies were put to silence for a time. It was now becoming increasingly clear to Sir Thomas More that the matter of the King's Change of Opinion was bound to have the most serious consequences in England. He seems to have one shared with his son-in-law, Roper, his verbodings at a time of persecution was at hand. And when the young man vehemently denied that such a thing was possible under so Catholic a prince, he replied, grudgingly, he said, I do not know what to say. I do not know what to say. When he already spoke Catholic a prince, he replied gravely, I pray God, son-Roper, some of us live not until that day. For this reason, he now began to use his spare time in writing vigorous books in English in defense of the Catholic faith which is being attacked openly abroad and secretly in England. Then came the Pentecost of 1533 when Ann Boleyn, who had been already privately married to the King, wrote up the head of a magnificent procession to a coronation in London. Bishops of the southern province were summoned, and all the more prominent men of the kingdom, including, of course, their Tom, Miss Moore. Bishop Fisher of Rochester, having sent a direct refusal, had been already arrested. Moore stayed quietly at home and said nothing. His wife and family at this time must have been sordialities, for the air was full of ugly rumors as to what line the king would take with those who dared to defy his wishes. Probably their affectionate representations made life no easier for him at this critical time, and there is perhaps a hint of general reproach in his words when, after speaking often of the joys of heaven, of the lives of the holy martyrs, of their marvelous patients, and what a happy and blessed thing it was for the love of God to suffer the loss of goods, of liberty, and even of life, he would add that for himself, if he could perceive himself encouraged by his wife and children to die in a good cause, for joy thereof he would merely run to death. Yet he was wisely cautious and careful not to give offense unnecessarily, and to defend himself vigorously against the many false accusations brought against him at this time. One of these was in connection with that curious phenom of the age, the ex nun Elizabeth Barton, known as the Holy Maid of Kent. From the day of Queen Catherine's divorce, this woman, claiming to have had special revelations from above, had loudly prophesied the downfall of the king, and was supported in this by several monks and friars. Nearly every person of importance in and about London became interested in her, though most had doubts as to her integrity, and amongst others Sir Thomas More saw and talked with her, though not of any matters of touch the king or politics. When, however, this unhappy nun, being forced at Paul's cross to confess herself an ambassador, was ordered to be hanged with six of her supporters, the fact that More had been even distantly connected with her was seized upon Ambulan to ruin him with the king. His name actually figured in the bill of addon tender against the nun and her supporters, but when he was examined for a small commission, he found a far graver charge preferred against him. How, as Cranmer, Cromwell, and the Duke of Norfolk, could he have been so ungrateful to the king as to provoke the latter to put forth his book on the seven sacraments maintaining the pope's authority, thus causing him to his dishonor throughout all Christendom to put a sword in the pope's hand to fight against himself. The miserable meanness of this charge was sharply removed by More, who reminded them that when Henry had written the book, which earned him the title of defender of the faith, he'd actually warned his royal master that he was possibly unwise and so strongly maintaining the temporal as well as the spiritual authority of the pope, of the necessary of which Sir Thomas at that time was not fully convinced. But Henry had replied, we will set forth that authority to the uttermost, for we received the sea of Rome, our crown imperial, which said More, I never heard of before, until his grace told it me with his own mouth. And then we parted somewhat unpleasantly. The sequel to this interview with the council must be told in Roper's own words. Then took Sir Thomas More, his boat towards Chelsea, wherein the way he was very merry. And for that I was nothing sorry, hoping that he got himself just charged out of the parliament bill. When he was landed and come home, then walked, we twain alone in his garden together, when I desire us to know how he had sped, said, I trust sir that all is well because you are so merry. It is so indeed, son Roper, I thank God, quote he, are you then put out of the bill, quote I by my trough, sir son Roper, I never remembered it, never remembered it, said I, a cause of that touches yourself so near. And all of us, for your sake, I barely trusted when I saw you so many that all was well. Then said he, well, thou know son Roper, why I'm so merry. In good faith, I rejoice that I had given the devil foul fall, and that with those lords I'd gone so far as without great shame, I could never go back again. At which words waxed, I was very sad, for though himself liked it well, yet liked it me but a little. More, however, had too many friends for the king to dare convict him on practically no evidence at all. It was only a matter of waiting, as he well knew, for what his favourite daughter congratulated him on his safety, so the smile. Meg, quad, defer, non, after. What is deferred is not done away with. When on another occasion, an old friend in high position, the Duke of Norfolk warned him that it was fearless to strive with princes since that meant death, he replied to the usual humorous twinkle, that in good faith between your grace and me is but this difference that I shall die today and you tomorrow. It was not long before the storm burst. On April the 13th of 1534 Sir Thomas Moore was summoned before a commission composed of Archbishop Cramer, counselor oddly, Thomas Cromwell and to his shame be it said Benson Abbot of Westminster, that he might publicly take the oath to support the succession act. Now the whole point of this act was that it directly set at naught the authority of the Pope, which is solely declared that Henry's marriage with Catherine was valid for the act proclaim it be against the law of God made the children of Ambulin the only legal heirs to the crown. Many of the clergy had taken the oath solving their consciences with the plea that they were bound to obey the king in matters temporal and that the arrangements of the succession came out of that head. That there must have been a long and bitter struggle when the mind of blessed Thomas himself were this question is clear, both from his words to roper and his declaration for the commissioners that he saw no peril and swearing to succession, but would never swear for a piece and set his hand to the old oath. Such a man of prayer and if keen spiritual insight so clear that the whole act was planned to be the death blow of the papal authority in the land, and as such he was determined not to sign. But he knew that the alternative was death is clear. On the morning of the day on which he'd been summoned to Lambeth, he made his confession and received holy communion. As he accustomed manners always air he entered in any matter of importance. It was usual when he left his home for his wife and children to accompany him to the boat, where he would kiss them and bid them all farewell. But on this occasion, the great fatherly heart of the future martyr could not face the ordeal of what he alone knew was his last farewell to his family and the home he loved so dearly. He was suffering none of them for the gate to follow him said Roper, but pulled the wicked after him and shoved them all from him and with a heavy heart as by his countenance it appeared with me there took boat towards Lambeth. Wherein sitting still sadly a while at the last he suddenly rounded me in the ear and said son Roper I thank our Lord the field is one. What he meant thereby I then was snot yet loath to seem ignorant I answered sir and therefore very glad but as I conjectured afterwards it was for the love he had to God rotten in him so effectively that he conquered utterly all his worldly affections. The moment of anguish when he looked his last as a free man upon his beloved ones to the bitterness death that was over for blessed Thomas more he had offered up to God those nearest his heart and hence for the love of the divine friend alone was his comfort and reward. Four days later he was committed to the tower for refusing to take the oath and then after a month's solitude within the grim walls of the Beauchon tower the first pangs of his martyrdom were anticipated through his best love child Margaret Roper who had with difficulty got believed to see him filled with despair at the thought of her father far from strong in health shut up within those stone cold walls and withling the prospect of death before him Margaret who had herself taken the oath being also primed with arguments in its favor by Lady Allington more stepdaughter used these interviews to try her utmost to persuade and disciple the voice of consciousness and to take the oath at first Sir Thomas tried to silence her with assurances that he was by no means unhappy seeing that he always loved the thought of solitude even in a straighter room than this I find no cause I thank God Margaret to recommend myself in worst case and at home for me thanks God make it the pet of me and set with me on his lap and dandel with me but when Margaret in her blind affection pressed him very sorely with her urging he said very seriously daughter Margaret we too have talked of this thing more than twice or thrice and I have told you that it is possible for me in the to do the thing that might content the king's grace and God be not offended no man had taken the oath more gladly than I would do no man refused you and the blind obstinate bishop of Rochester urged his daughter to which he replied that even if blessed John Fisher himself should take the oath it would make no difference to him he also solemnly assured her that in this matter he was in so no such minority as she thought since the greater part of Christendom were with him but it may mean death urged Margaret weeping to which he said very quietly that he had been prepared for that from the day first I counted Margaret full surely many a restless weary night while my wife slept and thought I slept too but peril was possible to fool me in thinking that I had a full heavy heart but yet I thank our Lord for all that I never thought to change though the very utmost should happen to me my fear ran upon in her grief the girl urged that the actual details of death might be far more terrible than he yet realized and that then it would perhaps be too late to take the oath too late daughter Margaret cried Sir Thomas with kindling eyes I pray our Lord that if ever make such a change may be too late indeed for well I want such change cannot be good for my soul and then with softening voices he saw her tears he added therefore my own good daughter never troubled my mind of anything that may happen to me in this life since I well very well that without my fault he will not let me be lost nothing can happen with what God wills and if anything happened to me that you would rather not pray to God for me but trouble not yourselves as I shall fully hardly pray for us all that we may meet together in heaven where we shall make merry forever and never have trouble after after the sharp trial of his consistency at the hands of his daughter he loved best in the world the visits of his more worldly wife must have almost come as a relief Dame Alice had no illusions on the subject and rated him soundly for his foolishness and thus preferring to be shut up in a closed filthy prison among rats and mice when he might be enjoying the favor of the king and his council in his own fair house at chelsea what in God's name mean you by tearing here thus foolishly should cry with a vexation probably assumed in order to mask a real sorrow and concern but is not this house as in I heaven as my own said he when he would get a word in tilly valley tilly valley cried she well this gear never be left to which he answered with his usual twinkle that he saw no great coster rejoice in the his house since if he were to die rise again after seven years and go through there again he would find some therein who had bit him get out of the door since it were none of his he was much to amused too at her real or pretended horror when she heard that he was locked up at night if the door were shut upon me to shut up my breath she cried he said nothing but he remembered that she used to be on the inside to shut every night full surely her own chamber to her both doors and windows too and use not to open them for all the long night gay of heart that he remained during the long months of his imprisonment that was physically very ill suffering agonies from cramps and internal troubles independent on the charity of friends outside for the smallest comfort all these things he gladly embraced as penances adding there to his own hair shirt worn by him for years in a discipline of whips and knotted cords on certain fast days his maintenance had to be paid by his family who at this time so poor that lady more had to sell her own clothes to pay his board frugal as it was yes or thomas had never without a jest and a smile for jailer and friend alike even when his imprisonment grew much more rigorous his own consolation then became the writing of the those beautiful religious works in which he mingled mirth and devotion of the deepest kind in a way as only possible to one who was in close in touch with the savior then his enemies deprived him of the last solace taking away his books and papers on the plea that he had sent letters to his fellow prisoner blessed john fisher in the bell tower now even the visits of margaret were denied him but he nothing daunted closed the shutter of his cell and sat in darkness the better to meditate on the joys of heaven when asked the reason by the lieutenant of the tower he replied merely when all the wears are gone the shop windows might as well be shut in the may of that year 1535 he had seen the carthusian martyrs laid out to die and a month later three more of the same order followed them on june the 22nd the feast of st albin the aged bishop fisher had been taken out upon tower hill just outside the tower and possibly more would have been told of his brave bearing now how he'd beg the onlookers for their prayers that at the very point an instance of death stroke he might stand steadfast without fainting in any point of the catholic faith free from any fear and how he'd be sought god to save the king in the realm and to send the king good council and how the people at his wish had cried aloud the holy name of jesus at the moment when head and body being severed the innocent and mounted to the blessed joys of heaven nine days later sentence for high treason was pronounced sponsor thomas more in west minster hall indignified words he ordered his protest against the inquisitive act which declared the king supreme head of the church and when the chancellor tried to rebuke him for considering himself wiser and a better conscience and all the bishops and nobles of this realm he uttered those one monumentous words my lord for one bishop of your opinion i have a hundred saints of mine and for one parliament of yours and god knows of what kind i have all the general counselors for one thousand years and for one kingdom i have all the kingdoms of christendom i say further that your statute is ill made because you've sworn never to do anything against the church which through all christendom is one in divided and you have no authority without the common consent of all christians to make a law or act of parliament or council against the union of christendom thus did the brave old man weak and broken now in body but undaunted in soul bear his unwhithering testimony to the catholic faith or which he would soon die as he left west minster hall his son john was waiting on his knees to receive his blessing and as he was led back to the tower his eyes sought the outskirts of the crowd on the tower war for he knew that margaret would be there faithful to the last and yearning for a glimpse at the beloved father to whom access was now denied suddenly his worn face kindled and he lifted his hand in blessing as a girlish figure sunk upon its knees but margaret could not be content with that and throwing herself against albirds and bills of the guard she hastily ran to him and there openly in the sight of them embraced him took him by the neck and kissed him sobbing oh my father oh my father take patience margaret murmur the tender voices yelled her close do not grieve my child god has willed so from any year did thou snow the secret of my heart fully indeed made the faithful daughter he rescued for her one mistaken effort to keep her father from the ways of sorrows when we realize the mingled bitterness and sweetness of that supreme moment she had her part to play in the sacrifice but she'd been admitted into the holy place of that brave heart and she knew better now than to hold him back what matter if she turned back again as he passed on and having respect neither to herself nor to the peers that were about him random as before took him about the neck and divers timed kissed and lovingly and at last with a full and heavy heart was reigned to depart from him more's last letter to this tenderly loved child was written with a charred stick upon a scrap of paper in this after sending loving messages to all the members of this family he says i never liked your manner towards me better than when you kissed me last for i love when daughterly love and dear charity has no leisure to look to worldly courtesy farewell my dear child and pray for me and i shall for you and all your friends that we may merrily meet in heaven he had been first condemned to be hanged drawn and quartered and on hearing that the king had mercilessly changed his sentence to be heading he replied cheerily god forbid that the king should show any such mercy unto any of his friends the 6th of july the eve of the feast of st. thomas of canterbury found him ready and longing for the end they who brought the tidings of the execution left so bitterly that it was the martyr's law to speak words of comfort about nine o'clock he was brought forth carrying in his hands a red cross casting his eyes towards heaven passing a good woman's house sharpening a cup of wine which he refused saying christ is the passion drank no wine but only gallant vinegar having promised his prayers to one under temptation and suicide he came to the scaffold on tower hill which seemed to him weak and ready to fall wherefore he said merrily to the lieutenant i pray you sir see me safe up and for my coming down let me shift for myself and he began to speak a little to the people which were in great tropes there to hear and see him he was interrupted by the sheriff wherefore briefly he desired all the people to pray for him and to bear witness with him that there he died and for the faith of the holy catholic church a faithful servant both of god and the king having spoken but this he kneeled down and pronounced with great devotion of the mausoleum which being ended he cheerfully rose up in the executioner asking for forgiveness he kissed saying thou wilt do me this day a greater benefit than any mortal man can be able to give me pluck up thy spirit man and be not afraid to do thine office my neck is very short take heed therefore that thou strike not a rye then having covered his eyes he laid his head upon the block bidding up shoes in our stay so he had removed his beard saying pity that should be cut that hath not committed treason and so with great alalacricity and spiritual joy he received the fatal blow of the axe which no sooner had severed the head of the body but his soul was carried by angels into everlasting glory where a crown of martyrdom was put upon him which can never be faded nor decayed and then did he find these words true which he had spoken often that a man may lose his head and have no harm yes I say unspeakable good and everlasting happiness well may it be said of such a man that he had learned to trod in the world of the passion of his master and seemed to him to be strong with flowers he died rather than tarnish the whiteness of his soul the story goes that the head of blessed Thomas Moore which for a time was fixed upon London Bridge by the side of that blessed John Fisher was afterwards bought by his daughter Margaret and being fully embalmed in spices was laid in the Roper family vault in St. Dawson's Church, Canterbury his body was laid in the chapel of St. Peter ad vil and cuss in the tower close to the entrance of the small balfoury a book of ours used by him during his imprisonment is now in the possession of the Earl of Dunbu and contains in his own hand ring in the margins some beautiful prayers from which we may quote the following lines as a summary of his life give me thy grace good god to settle the worlds of nay to be joyful of tribulations to walk the narrow road that leadeth to life to bear the cross with Christ to have the last things in remembrance end of chapter two part two recording by Christine Wales chapter three of a book of English martyrs this is a LibriVox recording while LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org a book of English martyrs by E. M. Wilmot Buxton chapter three the English terror 1535 through 1540 he shall be judged by the bloody laws he hath himself made the council at the trial of Cromwell the martyrdom of blessed Thomas More and of six Carthusian monks was but the prelude to a veritable reign of terror which lasted with scarcely any intermission till the death of Cromwell in 1540 for these five years under the plea of protecting his royal master from the slightest breath of disloyalty the hammer of monks as he has been called held England and Thrall watering her soil meantime with the blood of many martyrs while he strove to destroy the church by striking a death blow at the religious houses in this land soon after the passing of the act of supremacy steps have been taken to dissolve the smaller monasteries on the plea that they were no longer needed or that they had failed to keep their form of good reputation that both these accusations were false as clearly seen in the consternation felt in their own neighborhood at their loss many of these houses were the only means of relief for the poor of the district many kept the only schools for many miles round some such as that of Hexham in Northumberland situated in a bear country with not a house between it and Scotland were invaluable in times of border warfare but though attempts at resistance were made monks and nuns were ruthlessly flung forth and helped us while the swarms of wandering beggars which were the disgrace of England at that time at length the smoldering discontent of the northerners in Yorkshire where most of the more important abbeys were situated broke into open flame the world will never mend till we fight for it declared one landowner and zeal for the faith of their fathers kindling in the hearts of the stout Yorkshire men they marched with the parish priest at their head upon York and seized the city then Durham rose almost to a man and the purses of Northumberland let out their clan though the head of the house feigned sickness in lay a bed the whole nobility of the north were now in arms and 30 000 tall men and well-horst moved on the dawn demanding the reversal of the royal policy a reunion with Rome the restoration of Catherine's daughter married to her rights is heiress to the crown redress for the wrongs done to the church and above all the fall of Cromwell alas for the pilgrimage of grace the wiles of Cromwell and promising pardon and a free parliament at York to the insurgents broke up the ranks the rebels thought they had been granted all they asked and went home with glad hearts then Cromwell struck and struck hard and the nobles of the north went under for good and all many went to the block and amongst them Lord Darcy whose words as he stood before the council are memorable enough Cromwell it is thou that ought the very special and chief cause of all this rebellion and wickedness and thou dost make it thy daily work to bring us to our ends and strike off our heads I trust that ere thou die though thou wouldst procure all the noblest heads within the realm to be stricken off there yet shall one head remain that shall strike off thine with Sir Thomas Percy of Northumberland were hung at Tidenburn the abits of fountains and of Gervole the abits of Barling and of Kirkstedt shared their fate elsewhere their only crime being the sympathy they had shown with the rebellion or the fact that the insurgents had reinstated them in their monasteries the farmers in Yeoman who had shared in the revolt were hanged by hundreds at a time upon the trees of the north country way sides encouraged by the success of this wholesale suppression Henry following Cromwell's lead determined to strike a blow not only at the north but at the west where the twin houses of the courtes and the polls staunch adherence of the faith held rule the head of the pole family Margaret Countess of Salisbury was of royal descent and Henry Cortenet Marquis of Exeter his kinsmen was next in secession after Henry's children to the throne Reginald fourth son of the Countess after refusing the High Sprobes to approve his divorce that the king could offer him had fled for safety to Rome where he had been made cardinal and from once he openly attacked the king in his outspoken book on the unity of the church his representation at Rome had hastened the excommunication now pronounced upon Henry by the pope and the king took a cowardly revenge they shall feel what it is to have a traitor for their kinsmen cried he in forthwith Lord Montague polls elder brother was executed together with the Marquis of Exeter on Tower Hill Sir Geoffrey poble a younger brother who had been prevailed upon to bear witness against them was pardoned and passed the rest of his life in miserable regret for his Judas like act two years later his mother the aged Countess who would formerly had charge of the unhappy Princess Mary and was herself a royal princess after a long and tedious imprisonment was let out to die on tower green she was nearly 90 years old into the last she knew not of what crime she was accused nor how she had been sentenced we know however that she suffered solely and entirely for the Catholic faith of which her son was at that time the most active defender and her last words blessed are they who suffer persecution for righteousness sake are fulfilled in the title conferred upon her by the church of blessed Margaret Pole the pilgrimage of grace failure though it seemed had seceded and staying for a while the suppression of the monasteries for even Henry and Cromwell dared not entirely ignore the temper of the country when they turned again to the matter they tried a different method instead of using force to close the religious houses Cromwell in some cases persuaded the superiors to submit quietly to the king's authority and others he set up as Abbott one who was willing to acknowledge the royal supremacy and ordered him to convert his monks as a preliminary to a peaceful surrender the latter plan was tried at the London charred house after the martyrdom of blessed John Houghton in several of the monks and lay brothers under the threat of total suppression were induced to acknowledge the royal supremacy this they did with remorse of conscience and with many reserves but other companions ten valued souls scorned utterly to buy their safety with such base compromise thrown into Newgate without even the pretense of a trial these ten monks and lay brothers were chained in standing position to post in a filthy dungeon with hands tied behind them and were there left to die for a short time their lives were preserved by the beautiful devotion of Margaret gigs now Margaret Clement whom we remember as an inmate at the household of Sir Thomas Moore and specially entrusted by him with works of mercy she bribed the gay older to let her enter the prison disguised as a milk maid in carrying a great pale upon her head full of meat wherewith she fed the blessed company putting meat into their mouths they being tied and not able to stir nor to help themselves then the king finding they were still alive commanded a straighter watch to be set over them so that the keeper durst not let in this good woman anymore fury it might cost him his head if it should be discovered but she undaunted by difficulties persuaded and bribed him to let her clamber over the tiles of the roof till she reached the cell where they were confined then having made a hole in the roof she let down meat in a basket approaching the same as well as she could onto their mouths as they did stand chained against the post but they not being able to feed themselves out of the basket or very little and the gay older fearing very much that it should be perceived in the end refused to let her come anymore and so soon after they languished and pined away thus did they win their crown of martyrdom nor was the charity of Margaret Clement forgotten by them in the realm of bliss for on the day of her death she told her husband that there were standing about her bed the Reverend Fathers monks of the Charter House whom she had relieved in prison and who did call upon her to come away with them the Carthusians had thus paid rich toll of their numbers to the cause of the faith it was now the turn of the Franciscans to offer up their sacrifice there was an important monastery of the friars observant of the rules of st. Francis at Greenwich in those days the water of which John Forrest acted for a time as confessor to Queen Catherine of Aragon and her gentle woman of the court the unhappy queen had a special love for the observant friars as shown by the clause in her will asking she should be buried in one of their convents and this alone was enough to draw down upon them the wrath of Henry after his divorce for a time Forrest seems to have warded off the threat of dissolution of the whole order throughout England and actually prevailed upon the king to change his mind but he knew that this would not last for long and in 1534 the observance who were the strictest order of the Franciscans were everywhere suppressed their convents were handed over in some cases to other communities for a time and of those who refused thus to change the order some 200 were imprisoned of whom 50 died in captivity that Forrest was among these prisoners is proved by a pathetic letter written to him at this time by Queen Catherine encouraging him to be brave and constant while full of grief for herself at the thought of losing him to this he replied with courageous words of consolation and sent to her his rosary since he believed he had but three days to live to a very natural and impulsive little letter from one of the Queen's ladies which reached him at the same time in which urged him to try to make his escape the Franciscan friar replied in gentle reproof Elizabeth Hammond my child I'm very sorry for the great grief of your mistress and yourself on account of the pains I suffer as if there were no resurrection to glory if I were willing to break faith and through fear of torments or love of riches were to give myself to the devil beyond doubt I could easily escape but pray think of none of these things the cult of martyrdom however was delayed for some time yet how or why he was released from prison we know not it is difficult to believe after reading the brave words above that he took the oath of supremacy as his enemies would have us believe though it is possible that like so many other monks at that time he took it under some form of compromise four years later we find forest again acting as confessor at a convent of the gray friars another branch of the franciscans in new gate street where Christ's hospital the blue coat school afterwards stood if he had ever wavered his faith burnt clear again in those days and his foe was suspecting this had recourse to the meanest of devices to bring a charge against him a certain man called wafer in the confessional asked him his opinion as to the king's supremacy and being answered frankly by him went out straight away and laid information that he had said that the king was not supreme head of the church brought before the council bullied and coaxed alternately bewildered by countless questions and endless points of controversy the unfortunate friar seems to have signed some form of recantation of certain doctrines which was equally seized upon by his enemies as an abjuration it is not difficult to realize the agony of mine that would be the lot of a sensitive nature lacking the gift of moral courage and possibly weakened somewhat by the remembrance of a former successful compromise before such a thing was possible a one thing we may be sure the physical pains of martyrdom were as nothing compared to the misery of remorse that was certainly his immediately after he had done the deed all that he could do to a tone was nobly done says a rider of the time the twelfth of may being the third Sunday after Easter the bishop of warchester dr. latimer preached at paul's cross at whose sermon should have been present a penitent to have done his penance called john forest who should have borne a faggot and with a loud voice have declared certain things but when his abjuration was sent to him to read and look upon he utterly refused it so latimer could but read it for him and asked the crowd to pray that the friar might be converted from his said obstinacy on May 22 1538 this old friar dressed in his torn habit was drawn from new gate to smithfield on a hurdle in there after a lengthy sermon by latimer in which he offered forest a good living if he would turn he was burnt alive neither fire nor faggot nor scaffold shall separate me from the old lord he cried and with his last breath passed for mercy not from man but from the lord whom in confusion of mine he had gone near to deny an onlooker declares that the fire had hardly destroyed the body when at midday was seeing a dove as white as snow over the head of the saint at dead and remain there a long time seen by many people the next year 1539 saw the martyrdom of three habits of the great benedictine order by this time the work of destruction had gone on so fast that only a few of the larger monasteries survived and now under the pretext of creating new bishoprics and endowing them with the confiscated monastic lands the three great monasteries of glastonbury retting and colchester were ordered to surrender those of us who have visited the ruins of glastonbury and tried to reconstruct the past can have but little real idea of the glory of this ancient foundation it is built on the spot to which joseph of era methea is said to have brought the holy grail the chalice containing the blood of our savior where year by year the thorn tree bears its white blossoms in dead of winter where saint polinas and saint dunstan and king alfred lived and prayed and worked the great abbey church the vast library the sunny cloisters the scriptorium where some of the most beautiful of the ancient missiles were produced the noted school full of youths of noble blood the kitchens from which the poor were fed day by day all these formed an immense and most powerful community whose good deeds were known throughout christendom and whose abbot sat as a peer in the house of lords and ruled his vast domain in all wisdom and justice great are the perils of those who stand in high places and when in 1534 abbot richard whiting was called upon to take the oath of supremacy for the refusal of which more fisher and the carthusians had been content to die it was taken by him his prior in 50 of his monks we who can never know the bitter struggle he underwent in the mental reservations made can but feel our sorrow at his fall change into pity and respect when we realize the atonement he was to make five years later in the following year another attempt was made by cromwell to get hold of the coveted riches of the abbey commissioners were sent to find something of which to accuse the monks and so form a pretext for dissolution but here again he failed at glastonbury writes one of his evil subordinates to him the brethren he kept so straight that they cannot offend this is only one of the many testimonies to their upright and holy lives the monk says a protestant bishop a little later following the example of the ancient fathers lived apart from the world religiously and in peace is stewing worldly employments and wholly given to study in contemplation everything was done by the commissioners sent by cromwell meant a most evil character to force the monks by harsh regulations or cruel privations to leave the monastery but in vain so in fear and trembling the abbot continued to hold sway until the year 1539 when by active parliament all monasteries were granted to the king both those that should surrender and those that should come by attainder of treason when this was known three abbots who had long held secret communications with each other richard whiting of glastonbury u faringdon of redding and john beach of colchester knowing well that the consequence was a cruel death determine not to surrender the sacred charge that had been committed to them all three had taken the oath of supremacy five years before but time had made clear to them the weakness they had shown in the peril of their position in yielding any point of the catholic faith to such a king as henry they now prepared to face the worst it was not long before cromwell's minions had found the empty pretext they wanted at glastonbury they searched the old abbots rooms by night and found there a book of arguments against the divorce which we take to be a great matter as also divers pardons copies of bulls and the counterfeit life of thomas becket in print but we could not find any letter that was material on this feeble charge coupled with the fact that his answers to all questions showed his unswerving faith in the papal authority which he had once denied was abbot whiting sent to the tower and condemned to death in his prison he was tortured mentally if not physically by the most severe investigation as to where he had hidden the money and plate of the abbey four of this there seemed strange dearth at glastonbury now in the spoilers hands he had indeed concealed much of the church property sacred vessels copes and money within the walls rightly conceiving it to be in his trust and not to be delivered into lay hands most of this was found before his death and was laid to his charge as a theft by judges blinded with aphoris and greed up to the very end they cease not to pester him for fresh information until he was actually brought back to glastonbury to die they jeered at his last request that he might be allowed to enter the abbey once more to bless his sons before his death knowing as they did that the wall stood bare and ruthless to the sky and binding him to a hurdle they drew him up the steep side of tor hill and before the eyes of two of his monks who also took their deaths very patiently the old man expiated his sin of weakness by a glorious death remember how poor abbot whiting was used as a ballot written some hundred years later and it is remarkable that the memory of this good old man has been kept green in that countryside almost down to the present day on that same gray november morning they're suffered at his abbey gate at retting another abbey blessed you ferrington or cook declaring his firm belief in the holy sea a belief that was but the common faith said he of those who had the best right to declare the true teaching of the english church and a few days later blessed john beach of colchester had also worn his martyrs crown he'd always been a great admirer of sir thomas more in a bishop john fisher and after their deaths he frequently spoke of them being in the habit of extolling the piety meekness and innocence of the late martyrs to those guests whom he invited to his table but there came at length a judas guest who invited the good abbot to speak and praise of them and to marvel what cause of complaint the king could have found in men so virtuous and learned and the greatest ornaments of church and state away hurried the traitor to cromwell and the condemnation of the abbot was assured one can but feel the deepest pity for the aged man worn out with anxiety and ceaseless questioning even when we hear that for a brief while he tried to save his life at the expense of his convictions but his repentance was bitter and complete at his trial he pleaded guilty thus proclaiming his contrition for his momentary fall and went forth to execution at colchester with a steadfast heart end of chapter three