This Roger Holland, a merchant-tailor of London, was first an
apprentice with one Master Kemption, at the Black Boy in Watling
Street, giving himself to dancing, fencing, gaming, banqueting,
and wanton company. He had received for his master certain money,
to the sum of thirty pounds; and lost every groat at dice.
Therefore he purposed to convey himself away beyond the seas,
either into France or into Flanders.
With this resolution, he called early in the morning on a
discreet servant in the house, named Elizabeth, who professed the
Gospel, and lived a life that did honor to her profession. To her
he revealed the loss his folly had occasioned, regretted that he
had not followed her advice, and begged her to give his master a
note of hand from him acknowledging the debt, which he would
repay if ever it were in his power; he also entreated his
disgraceful conduct might be kept secret, lest it would bring the
gray hairs to his father with sorrow to a premature grave.
The maid, with a generosity and Christian principle rarely
surpassed, conscious that his imprudence might be his ruin,
brought him the thirty pounds, which was part of a sum of money
recently left her by legacy. "Here," said she, "is the sum
requisite: you shall take the money, and I will keep the note;
but expressly on this condition, that you abandon all lewd and
vicious company; that you neither swear nor talk immodestly, and
game no more; for, should I learn that you do, I will immediately
show this note to your master. I also require, that you shall
promise me to attend the daily lecture at Allhallows, and the
sermon at St. Paul's every Sunday; that you cast away all your
books of popery, and in their place substitute the Testament and
the Book of Service, and that you read the Scriptures with
reverence and fear, calling upon God for his grace to direct you
in his truth. Pray also fervently to God, to pardon your former
offences, and not to remember the sins of your youth, and would
you obtain his favor ever dread to break his laws or offend his
majesty. So shall God have you in His keeping, and grant you your
heart's desire." We must honor the memory of this excellent
domestic, whose pious endeavors were equally directed to benefit
the thoughtless youth in this life and that which is to come. God
did not suffer the wish of this excellent domestic to be thrown
upon a barren soil; within half a year after the licentious
Holland became a zealous professor of the Gospel, and was an
instrument of conversion to his father and others whom he visited
in Lancashire, to their spiritual comfort and reformation from
popery.
His father, pleased with his change of conduct, gave him forty
pounds to commence business with in London.
Then Roger repaired to London again, and came to the maid that
lent him the money to pay his master withal, and said unto her,
"Elizabeth, here is thy money I borrowed of thee; and for the
friendship, good will, and the good counsel I have received at
thy hands, to recompense thee I am not able, otherwise than to
make thee my wife." And soon after they were married, which was
in the first year of Queen Mary.
After this he remained in the congregations of the faithful,
until, the last year of Queen Mary, he, with the six others
aforesaid, were taken.
And after Roger Holland there was none suffered in Smithfield
for the testimony of the Gospel, God be thanked.
Flagellations by Bonner
When this Catholic hyena found that neither persuasions,
threats, nor imprisonment, could produce any alteration in the
mind of a youth named Thomas Hinshaw, he sent him to Fulham, and
during the first night set him in the stocks, with no other
allowance than bread and water. The following morning he came to
see if this punishment had worked any change in his mind, and
finding none, he sent Dr. Harpsfield, his archdeacon, to converse
with him. The doctor was soon out f humor at his replies, called
him peevish boy, and asked him if he thought he went about to
damn his soul? "I am persuaded," said Thomas, "that you labor to
promote the dark kingdom of the devil, not for the love of the
truth." These words the doctor conveyed to the bishop, who, in a
passion that almost prevented articulation, came to Thomas, and
said, "Dost thou answer my archdeacon thus, thou naughty boy? But
I'll soon handle thee well enough for it, be assured!" Two willow
twigs were then brought him, and causing the unresisting youth to
kneel against a long bench, in an arbor in his garden, he
scourged him until he was compelled to cease for want of breath
and fatigue. One of the rods was worn quite away.
Many other conflicts did Hinsaw undergo from the bishop; who,
at length, to remove him effectually, procured false witnesses to
lay articles against him, all of which the young man denied, and,
in short, refused to answer any interrogatories administered to
him. A fortnight after this, the young man was attacked by a
burning ague, and at the request of his master. Mr. Pugson, of
St. Paul's church-yard, he was removed, the bishop not doubting
that he had given him his death in the natural way; he however
remained ill above a year, and in the mean time Queen Mary died,
by which act of providence he escaped Bonner's rage.
John Willes was another faithful person, on whom the scourging
hand of Bonner fell. He was the brother of Richard Willes, before
mentioned, burnt at Brentford. Hinshaw and Willes were confined
in Bonner's coal house together, and afterward removed to Fulham,
where he and Hinshaw remained during eight or ten days, in the
stocks. Bonner's persecuting spirit betrayed itself in his
treatment of Willes during his examinations, often striking him
on the head with a stick, seizing him by the ears, and filliping
him under the chin, saying he held down his head like a thief.
This producing no signs of recantation, he took him into his
orchard, and in a small arbor there he flogged him first with a
willow rod, and then with birch, until he was exhausted. This
cruel ferocity arose from the answer of the poor sufferer, who,
upon being asked how long it was since he had crept to the cross,
replied, 'Not since he had come to years of discretion, nor would
he, though he should be torn to pieces by wild horses.' Bonner
then bade him make the sign of the cross on his forehead, which
he refused to do, and thus was led to the orchard.
One day, when in the stocks, Bonner asked him how he liked his
lodging and fare. "Well enough," said Willes, "might I have a
little straw to sit or lie upon." Just at this time came in
Willes' wife, then largely pregnant, and entreated the bishop for
her husband, boldly declaring that she would be delivered in the
house, if he were not suffered to go with her. To get rid of the
good wife's importunity, and the trouble of a lying-in woman in
his palace, he bade Willes make the sign of the cross, and say,
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen. Willes
omitted the sign, and repeated the words, "in the name of the
Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen." Bonner
would have the words repeated in Latin, to which Willes made no
objection, knowing the meaning of the words. He was then
permitted to go home with his wife, his kinsman Robert Rouze
being charged to bring him to St. Paul's the next day, whither he
himself went, and subscribing to a Latin instrument of little
importance, was liberated. This is the last of the twenty-two
taken at Islington.
Rev. Richard Yeoman
This devout aged person was curate to Dr. Taylor, at Hadley,
and eminently qualified for his sacred function. Dr. Taylor left
him the curacy at his departure, but no sooner had Mr. Newall
gotten the benefice, than he removed Mr. Yeoman, and substituted
a Romish priest. After this he wandered from place to place,
exhorting all men to stand faithfully to God's Word, earnestly to
give themselves unto prayer, with patience to bear the cross now
laid upon them for their trial, with boldness to confess the
truth before their adversaries, and with an undoubted hope to
wait for the crown and reward of eternal felicity. But when he
perceived his adversaries lay wait for him, he went into Kent,
and with a little packet of laces, pins, points, etc., he
travelled from village to village, selling such things, and in
this manner subsisted himself, his wife, and children.
At last Justice Moile, of Kent, took Mr. Yeoman, and set him
in the stocks a day and a night; but, having no evident matter to
charge him with, he let him go again. Coming secretly again to
Hadley, he tarried with his poor wife, who kept him privately, in
a chamber of the town house, commonly called the Guildhall, more
than a year. During this time the good old father abode in a
chamber locked up all the day, spending his time in devout
prayer, in reading the Scriptures, and in carding the wool which
his wife spun. His wife also begged bread for herself and her
children, by which precarious means they supported themselves.
Thus the saints of God sustained hunger and misery, while the
prophets of Baal lived in festivity, and were costily pampered at
Jezebel's table.
Information being at length given to Newall, that Yeoman was
secreted by his wife, he came, attended by the constables, and
broke into the room where the object of his search lay in bed
with his wife. He reproached the poor woman with being a whore,
and would have indecently pulled the clothes off, but Yeoman
resisted both this act of violence and the attack upon his wife's
character, adding that he defied the pope and popery. He was then
taken out, and set in stocks until day.
In the cage also with him was an old man, named John Dale, who
had sat there three or four days, for exhorting the people during
the time service was performing by Newall and his curate. His
words were, "O miserable and blind guides, will ye ever be blind
leaders of the blind? Will ye never amend? Will ye never see the
truth of God's Word? Will neither God's threats nor promises
enter into your hearts? Will the blood of the martyrs nothing
mollify your stony stomachs? O obdurate, hard-hearted, perverse,
and crooked generation! to whom nothing can do good."
These words he spake in fervency of spirit agains tthe
superstitious religion of Rome; wherefore Newall caused him
forthwith to be attached, and set in the stocks in a cage, where
he was kept until Sir Henry Doile, a justice, came to Hadley.
When Yeoman was taken, the parson called earnestly upon Sir
Henry Doile to send them both to prison. Sir Henry Doile as
earnestly entreated the parson to consider the age of the men,
and their mean condition; they were neither persons of note nor
preachers; wherefore he proposed to let them be punished a day or
two and to dismiss them, at least John Dale, who was no priest,
and therefore, as he had so long sat in the cage, he thought it
punishment enough for this time. When the parson heard this, he
was exceedingly mad, and in a great rage called them pestilent
heretics, unfit to live in the commonwealth of Christians.
Sir Henry, fearing to appear too merciful, Yeoman and Dale
were pinioned, bound like thieves with their legs under the
horses' bellies, and carried to Bury jail, where they were laid
in irons; and because they continually rebuked popery, they were
carried into the lowest dungeon, where John Dale, through the
jail-sickness and evil-keeping, died soon after: his body was
thrown out, and buried in the fields. He was a man of sixty-six
years of age, a weaver by occupation, well learned in the holy
Scriptures, steadfast in his confession of the true doctrines of
Christ as set forth in King Edward's time; for which he joyfully
suffered prison and chains, and from this worldly dungeon he
departed in Christ to eternal glory, and the blessed paradise of
everlasting felicity.
After Dale's death, Yeoman was removed to Norwich prison,
where, after strait and evil keeping, he was examined upon his
faith and religion, and required to submit himself to his holy
father the pope. "I defy him, (quoth he), and all his detestable
abomination: I will in no wise have to do with him." The chief
articles objected to him, were his marriage and the Mass
sacrifice. Finding he continued steadfast in the truth, he was
condemned, degraded, and not only burnt, but most cruelly
tormented in the fire. Thus he ended this poor and miserable
life, and entered into that blessed bosom of Abraham, enjoying
with Lazarus that rest which God has prepared for His elect.
Thomas Benbridge
Mr. Benbridge was a single gentleman, in the diocese of
Winchester. He might have lived a gentleman's life, in the
wealthy possessions of this world; but he chose rather to enter
through the strait gate of persecution to the heavenly possession
of life in the Lord's Kingdom, than to enjoy present pleasure
with disquietude of conscience. Manfully standing against the
papists for the defence of the sincere doctrine of Christ's
Gospel, he was apprehended as an adversary to the Romish
religion, and led for examination before the bishop of
Winchester, where he underwent several conflicts for the truth
against the bishop and his colleague; for which he was condemned,
and some time after brought to the place of martyrdom by Sir
Richard Pecksal, sheriff.
When standing at the stake he began to untie his points, and
to prepare himself; then he gave his gown to the keeper, by way
of fee. His jerkin was trimmed with gold lace, which he gave to
Sir Richard Pecksal, the high sheriff. His cap of velvet he took
from his head, and threw away. Then, lifting his mind to the
Lord, he engaged in prayer.
When fastened to the stake, Dr. Seaton begged him to recant,
and he should have his pardon; but when he saw that nothing
availed, he told the people not to pray for him unless he would
recant, no more than they would pray for a dog.
Mr. Benbridge, standing at the stake with his hands together
in suchj a manner as the priest holds his hands in his Memento,
Dr. Seaton came to him again, and exhorted him to recant, to whom
he said, "Away, Babylon, away!" One that stood by said, "Sir, cut
his tongue out"; another, a temporal man, railed at him worse
than Dr. Seaton had done.
When they saw he would not yield, they bade the tormentors to
light the pile, before he was in any way covered with fagots. The
fire first took away a piece of his beard, at which he did not
shrink. Then it came on the other side and took his legs, and the
nether stockings of his hose being leather, they made the fire
pierce the sharper, so that the intolerable heat made him
exclaim, "I recant!" and suddenly he trust the fire from him. Two
or three of his friends being by, wished to save him; they
stepped to the fire to help remove it, for which kindness they
were sent to jail. The sheriff also of his own authority took him
from the stake, and remitted him to prison, for which he was sent
to the Fleet, and lay there sometime. Before, however, he was
taken from the stake, Dr. Seaton wrote articles for him to
subscribe to. To these Mr. Benbridge made so many objections that
Dr. Seaton ordered them to set fire again to the pile. Then with
much pain and grief of heart he subscribed to them upon a man's
back.
This done, his gown was given him again, and he was led to
prison. While there, he wrote a letter to Dr. Seaton, recanting
those words he had spoken at the stake, and the articles which he
had subscribed, for he was grieved that he had ever signed them.
The same day se'night he was again brought to the stake, where
the vile tormentors rather broiled than burnt him. The Lord give
his enemies repentance!
Mrs. Prest
From the number condemned in this fanatical reign, it is
almost impossible to obtain the name of every martyr, or to
embellish the history of all with anecdotes and exemplifications
of Christian conduct. Thanks be to Providence, our cruel task
begins to draw towards a conclusion, with the end of the reign of
papal terror and bloodshed. Monarchs, who sit upon thrones
possessed by hereditary right, should, of all others, consider
that the laws of nature are the laws of God, and hence that the
first law of nature is the preservation of their subjects. Maxims
of persecutions, of torture, and of death, they should leave to
those who have effected sovereignty by fraud or by sword; but
where, except among a few miscreant emperors of Rome, and the
Roman pontiffs, shall we find one whose memory is so "damned to
everlasting fame" as that of Queen Mary? Nations bewail the hour
which separates them forever from a beloved governor, but, with
respect to that of Mary, it was the most blessed time of her
whole reign. Heaven has ordained three great scourges for
national sins--plague, pestilence, and famine. It was the will of
God in Mary's reign to bring a fourth upon this kingdom, under
the form of papistical persecution. It was sharp, but glorious;
the fire which consumed the martyrs has undermined the popedom;
and the Catholic states, at present the most bigoted and
unenlightened, are those which are sunk lowest in the scale of
moral dignity and political consequence. May they remain so,
until the pure light of the Gospel shall dissipate the darkness
of fanaticism and superstition! But to return.
Mrs. Prest for some time lived about Cornwall, where she had a
husband and children, whose bigotry compelled her to frequent the
abominations of the Church of Rome. Resolving to act as her
conscience dictated, she quitted them, and made a living by
spinning. After some time, returning home, she was accused by her
neighbors, and brought to Exeter, to be examined before Dr.
Troubleville, and his chancellor Blackston. As this martyr was
accounted of inferior intellect, we shall put her in competition
with the bishop, and let the reader judge which had the most of
that knowledge conducive to everlasting life. The bishop bringing
the question to issue, respecting the bread and wine being flesh
and blood, Mrs. Prest said, "I will demand of you whether you can
deny your creed, which says, that Christ doth perpetually sit at
the right hand of His Father, both body and soul, until He come
again; or whether He be there in heaven our Advocate, and to make
prayer for us unto God His Father? If He be so, He is not here on
earth in a piece of bread. If He be not here, and if He do not
dwell in temples made with hands, but in heaven, what! shall we
seek Him here? If He did not offer His body once for all, why
make you a new offering? If with one offering He made all
perfect, why do you with a false offering make all imperfect? If
He be to be worshipped in spirit and in truth, why do you worship
a piece of bread? If He be eaten and drunken in faith and truth,
if His flesh be not profitable to be among us, why do you say you
make His flesh and blood, and say it is profitable for body and
soul? Alas! I am a poor woman, but rather than to do as you do, I
would live no longer. I have said, Sir."
Bishop. I promise you, you are a jolly Protestant. I pray you
in what school have you been brought up?
Mrs. Prest. I have upon the Sundays visited the sermons, and
there have I learned such things as are so fixed in my breast,
that death shall not separate them.
B. O foolish woman, who will waste his breath upon thee, or
such as thou art? But how chanceth it that thou wentest away from
thy husband? If thou wert an honest woman, thou wouldst not have
left thy husband and children, and run about the country like a
fugitive.
Mrs. P. Sir, I labored for my livingl; and as my Master Christ
counselleth me, when I was persecuted in one city, I fled into
another.
B. Who persecuted thee?
Mrs. P. My husband and my children. For when I would have them
to leave idolatry, and to worship God in heaven, he would not
hear me, but he with his children rebuked me, and troubled me. I
fled not for whoredom, nor for theft, but because I would be no
partaker with him and his of that foul idol the Mass; and
wheresoever I was, as oft as I could, upon Sundays and holydays.
I made excuses not to go to the popish Church.
B. Belike then you are a good housewife, to fly from your
husband the Church.
Mrs. P. My housewifery is but small; but God gave me grace to
go to the true Church.
B. The true Church, what dost thou mean?
Mrs. P. Not your popish Church, full of idols and
abominations, but where two or three are gathered together in the
name of God, to that Church will I go as long as I live.
B. Belike then you have a church of your own. Well, let this
mad woman be put down to prison until we send for her husband.
Mrs. P. No, I have but one husband, who is here already in
this city, and in prison with me, from whom I will never depart.
Some persons present endeavoring to convince the bishop she
was not in her right senses, she was permitted to depart. The
keeper of the bishop's prisons took her into his house, where she
either spun worked as a servant, or walked about the city,
discoursing upon the Sacrament of the altar. Her husband was sent
for to take her home, but this she refused while the cause of
religion could be served. She was too active to be idle, and her
conversation, simple as they affected to think her, excited the
attention of several Catholic priests and friars. They teased her
with questions, until she answered them angrily, and this excited
a laugh at her warmth.
"Nay," said she, "you have more need to weep than to laugh,
and to be sorry that ever you were born, to be the chaplains of
that whore of Babylon. I defy him and all his falsehood; and get
you away from me, you do but trouble my conscience. You would
have me follow your doings; I will first lose my life. I pray you
depart."
"Why, thou foolish woman," said they, "we come to thee for thy
profit and soul's health." To which she replied, "What profit
ariseth by you, that teach nothing but lies for truth? how save
you souls, when you preach nothing but lies, and destroy souls?"
"How provest thou that?" said they.
"Do you not destroy your souls, when you teach the people to
worship idols, stocks, and stones, the works of men's hands? and
to worship a false God of your own making of a piece of bread,
and teach that the pope is God's vicar, and hath power to forgive
sins? and that there is a purgatory, when God's Son hath by His
passion purged all? and say you make God and sacrifice Him, when
Christ's body was a sacrifice once for all? Do you not teach the
people to number their sins in your ears, and say they will be
damned if they confess not all; when God's Word saith, Who can
number his sins? Do you not promise them trentals and dirges and
Masses for souls, and sell your prayers for money, and make them
buy pardons, and trust to such foolish inventions of your
imaginations? Do you not altogether act against God? Do you not
teach us to pray upon beads, and to pray unto saints, and say
they can pray for us? Do you not make holy water and holy bread
to fray devils? Do you not do a thousand more abominations? And
yet you say, you come for my profit, and to save my soul. No, no,
one hath saved me. Farewell, you with your salvation."
During the liberty granted her by the bishop,
before-mentioned, she went into St. Peter's Church, and there
found a skilful Dutchman, who was affixing new noses to certain
fine images which had been disfigured in King Edward's time; to
whom she said, "What a madman art thou, to make them new noses,
which within a few days shall all lose their heads?" The Dutchman
accused her and laid it hard to her charge. And she said unto
him, "Thou art accursed, and so are thy images." He called her a
whore. "Nay," said she, "thy images are whores, and thou art a
whore-hunter; for doth not God say, 'You go a whoring after
strange gods, figures of your own making? and thou art one of
them.'" After this she was ordered to be confined, and had no
more liberty.
During the time of her imprisonment, many visited her, some
sent by the bishop, and some of their own will, among these was
one Daniel, a great preacher of the Gospel, in the days of King
Edward, about Cornwall and Devonshire, but who, through the
grievous persecution he had sustained, had fallen off. Earnestly
did she exhort him to repent with Peter, and to be more constant
in his profession.
Mrs. Walter Rauley and Mr. William and John Kede, persons of
great respectability, bore ample testimony of her godly
conversation, declaring, that unless God were with her, it were
impossible she could have so ably defended the cause of Christ.
Indeed, to sum up the character of this poor woman, she united
the serpent and the dove, abounding in the highest wisdom joined
to the greatest simplicity. She endured imprisonment,
threatenings, taunts, and the vilest epithets, but nothing could
induce her to swerve; her heart was fixed; she had cast anchor;
nor could all the wounds of persecution remove her from the rock
on which her hopes of felicity were built.
Such was her memory, that, without learning, she could tell in
what chapter any text of Scripture was contained: on account of
this singular property, one Gregory Basset, a rank papist, said
she was deranged, and talked as a parrot, wild without meaning.
At length, having tried every manner without effect to make her
nominally a Catholic, they condemned her. After this, one
exhorted her to leave her opinions, and go home to her family, as
she was poor and illiterate. "True, (said she) though I am not
learned, I am content to be a witness of Christ's death, and I
pray you make no longer delay with me; for my heart is fixed, and
I will never say otherwise, nor turn to your superstitious
doing."
To the disgrace of Mr. Blackston, treasurer of the church, he
would often send for this poor martyr from prison, to make sport
for him and a woman whom he kept; putting religious questions to
her, and turning her answers into ridicule. This done, he sent
her back to her wretched dungeon, while he battened upon the good
things of this world.
There was perhaps something simply ludicrous in the form of
Mrs. Prest, as she was of a very short stature, thick set, and
about fifty-four years of age; but her countenance was cheerful
and lively, as if prepared for the day of her marriage with the
Lamb. To mock at her form was an indirect accusation of her
Creator, who framed her after the fashion He liked best, and gave
her a mind that far excelled the transient endowments of
perishable flesh. When she was offered money, she rejected it,
"because (said she) I am going to a city where money bears no
mastery, and while I am here God has promised to feed me."
When sentence was read, condemning her to the flames, she
lifted up her voice and praised God, adding, "This day have I
found that which I have long sought." When they tempted her to
recant, "That will I not, (said she) God forbid that I should
lose the life eternal, for this carnal and short life. I will
never turn from my heavenly husband to my earthly husband; from
the fellowship of angels to mortal children; and if my husband
and children be faithful, then am I theirs. God is my father, God
is my mother, God is my sister, my brother, my kinsman; God is my
friend, most faithful."
Being delivered to the sheriff, she was led by the officer to
the place of execution, without the walls of Exeter, called
Sothenhey, where again the superstitious priests assaulted her.
While they were tying her to the stake, she continued earnestly
to exclaim "God be merciful to me, a sinner!" Patiently enduring
the devouring conflagration, she was consumed to ashes, and thus
ended a life which in unshaken fidelity to the cause of Christ,
was not surpassed by that of any preceding martyr.
Richard Sharpe, Thomas Banion, and Thomas Hale
Mr. Sharpe, weaver, of Bristol, was brought the ninth day of
March, 1556, before Dr. Dalby, chancellor of the city of Bristol,
and after examination concerning the Sacrament of the altar, was
persuaded to recant; and on the twenty-ninth, he was enjoined to
make his recantation in the parish church. But, scarcely had he
publicly avowed his backsliding, before he felt in his conscience
such a tormenting fiend, that he was unable to work at his
occupation; hence, shortly after, one Sunday, he came into the
parish church, called Temple, and after high Mass, stood up in
the choir door, and said with a loud voice, "Neighbors, bear me
record that yonder idol (pointing to the altar) is the greatest
and most abominable that ever was; and I am sorry that ever I
denied my Lord God!" Notwithstanding the constables were ordered
to apprehend him, he was suffered to go out of the church; but at
night he was apprehended and carried to Newgate. Shortly after,
before the chancellor, denying the Sacrament of the altar to be
the body and blood of Christ, he was condemned to be burned by
Mr. Dalby. He was burnt the seventh of May, 1558, and died godly,
patiently, and constantly, confessing the Protestant articles of
faith.With him suffered Thomas Hale, shoemaker, of Bristol, who
was condemned by Chcnallor Dalby. These martyrs were bound back
to back.
Thomas Banion, a weaver, was burnt on August 27, of the same
year, and died for the sake of the evangelical cause of his
Savior.
J. Corneford, of Wortham; C. Browne, of Maidstone; J. Herst,
of Ashford; Alice Snoth, and Catharine Knight, an Aged Woman
With pleasure we have to record that these five martyrs were
the last who suffered in the reign of Mary for the sake of the
Protestant cause; but the malice of the papists was conspicuous
in hastening their martyrdom, which might have been delayed until
the event of the queen's illness was decided. It is reported that
the archdeacon of Canterbury, judging that the sudden death of
the queen would suspend the execution, travelled post from
London, to have the satisfaction of adding another page to the
black list of papistical sacrifices.
The articles against them were, as usual, the Sacramental
elements and the idolatry of bending to images. They quoted St.
John's words, "Beware of images!" and respecting the real
presence, they urged according to St. Paul, "the things which are
seen are temporal." When sentence was about to be read against
them, and excommunication to take place in the regular form, John
Corneford, illuminated by the Holy Spirit, awfully turned the
latter proceeding against themselves, and in a solemn impressive
manner, recriminated their excommunication in the following
words: "In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of the most
mighty God, and by the power of His Holy Spirit, and the
authority of His holy Catholic and apostolic Church, we do here
give into the hands of Satan to be destroyed, the bodies of all
those blasphemers and heretics that maintain any error against
His most holy Word, or do condemn His most holy truth for heresy,
to the maintenance of any false church or foreign religion, so
that by this Thy just judgment, O most mighty God, against Thy
adversaries, Thy true religion may be known to Thy great glory
and our comfort and to the edifying of all our nation. Good Lord,
so be it. Amen."
This sentence was openly pronounced and registered, and, as if
Providence had awarded that it should not be delivered in vain,
within six days after, Queen Mary died, detested by all good men
and accursed of God!
Though acquainted with these circumstances, the archdeacon's
implacability exceeded that of his great exemplary, Bonner, who,
though he had several persons at that time under his fiery grasp,
did not urge their deaths hastily, by which delay he certainly
afforded them an opportunity of escape. At the queen's decease,
many were in bonds: some just taken, some examined, and others
condemned. The writs indeed were issued for several burnings, but
by the death of the three instigators of Protestant murder--the
chancellor, the bishop, and the queen, who fell nearly together,
the condemned sheep were liberated, and lived many years to
praise God for their happy deliverance.
These five martyrs, when at the stake, earnestly prayed that
their blood might be the last shed, nor did they pray in vain.
They died gloriously, and perfected the number God had selected
to bear witness of the truth in this dreadful reign, whose names
are recorded in the Book of Life; though last, not least among
the saints made meet for immortality through the redeeming blood
of the Lamb!
Catharine Finlay, alias Knight, was first converted by her
son's expounding the Scriptures to her, which wrought in her a
perfect work that terminated in martyrdom. Alice Snoth at the
stake sent for her grandmother and godfather, and rehearsed to
them the articles of her faith, and the Commandments of God,
thereby convincing the world that she knew her duty. She died
calling upon the spectators to bear witness that she was a
Christian woman, and suffered joyfully for the testimony of
Christ's Gospel.
Among the numberless enormities committed by the merciless and
uhnfeeling Bonner, the murder of this innocent and unoffending
child may be ranged as the most horrid. His father, John Fetty,
of the parish of Clerkenwell, by trade a tailor, and only
twenty-four years of age, had made blessed election; he was fixed
secure in eternal hope, and depended on Him who so builds His
Church that the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. But
alas! the very wife of his bosom, whose heart was hardened
against the truth, and whose mind was influenced by the teachers
of false doctrine, became his accuser. Brokenbery, a creature of
the pope, and parson of the parish, received the information of
this wedded Delilah, in consequence of which the poor man was
apprehended. But here the awful judgment of an ever-righteous
God, who is "of purer eyes than to behold evil," fell upon this
stone-hearted and perfidious woman; for no sooner was the injured
husband captured by her wicked contriving, than she also was
suddenly seized with madness, and exhibited an awful and
awakening instance of God's power to punish the evil-doer. This
dreadful circumstance had some effect upon the hearts of the
ungodly hunters who had eagerly grasped their prey; but, in a
relenting moment, they suffered him to remain with his unworthy
wife, to return her good for evil, and to comfort two children,
who, on his being sent to prison, would have been left without a
protector, or have become a burden to the parish. As bad men act
from little motives, we may place the indulgence shown him to the
latter account.
We have noticed in the former part of our narratives of the
martyrs, some whose affection would have led them even to
sacrifice their own lives, to preserve their husbands; but here,
agreeable to Scripture language, a mother proves, indeed, a
monster in nature! Neither conjugal nor maternal affection could
impress the heart of this disgraceful woman.
Although our afflicted Christian had experienced so much
cruelty and falsehood from the woman who was bound to him by
every tie both human and divine, yet, with a mild and forbearing
spirit, he overlooked her misdeeds, during her calamity
endeavoring all he could to procure relief for her malady, and
soothing her by every possible expression of tenderness: thus she
became in a few weeks nearly restored to her senses. But, alas!
she returned again to her sin, "as a dog returneth to his vomit."
Malice against the saints of the Most High was seated in her
heart too firmly to be removed; and as her strength returned, her
inclination to work wickedness returned with it. Her heart was
hardened by the prince of darkness; and to her may be applied
these afflicting and soul-harrowing words, "Can the Ethiopian
change his skin, or the leopard his spots? then may ye also do
good, that are accustomed to do evil." Weighing this text duly
with another, "I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy," how
shall we presume to refine away the sovereignty of God by
arrainging Jehovah at the bar of human reason, which, in
religious matters, is too often opposed by infinite wisdom?
"Broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be
which go in thereat. Narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life,
and few there be that find it." The ways of heaven are indeed
inscrutable, and it is our bounden duty to walk ever dependent on
God, looking up to Him with humble confidence, and hope in His
goodness, and ever confess His justice; and where we "cannot
unravel, there learn to trust." This wretched woman, pursuing the
horrid dictates of a heart hardened and depraved, was scarcely
confirmed in her recovery, when, stifling the dictates of honor,
gratitude, and every natural affection, she again accused her
husband, who was once more apprehended, and taken before Sir John
Mordant, knight, and one of Queen Mary's commissioners.
Upon examination, his judge finding him fixed in opinions
which militated against those nursed by superstition and
maintained by cruelty, he was sentenced to confinement and
torture in Lollard's Tower. Here he was put into the painful
stocks, and had a dish of water set by him, with a stone put into
it, to what purpose God knoweth,e xcept it were to show that he
should look for little other subsistence: which is credible
enough, if we consider their like practices upon divers before
mentioned in this history; as, among others, upon Richard Smith,
who died through their cruel imprisonment touching whom, when a
godly woman came to Dr. Story to have leave she might bury him,
he asked her if he had any straw or blood in his mouth; but what
he means thereby, I leave to the judgment of the wise.
On the first day of the third week of our martyr's sufferings,
an object presented itself to his view, which made him indeed
feel his tortures with all their force, and to execrate, with
bitterness only short of cursing, the author of his misery. To
mark and punish the proceedings of his tormentors, remained with
the Most High, who noteth even the fall of a sparrow, and in
whose sacred Word it is written, "Vengeance is mine; I will
repay." This object was his own son, a child of the tender age of
eight years. For fifteen days, had its hapless father been
suspended by his tormentor by the right arm and left leg, and
sometimes by both, shifting his positions for the purpose of
giving him strength to bear and to lengthen the date of his
sufferings. When the unoffending innocent, desirous of seeing and
speaking to its parent, applied to Bonner for permission to do
so, the poor child being asked by the bishop's chaplain the
purport of his errand, he replied he wished to see his father.
"Who is thy father?" said the chaplain. "John Fetty," returned
the boy, at the same time pointing to the place where he was
confined. The interrogating miscreant on this said, "Why, thy
father is a heretic!" The little champion again rejoined, with
energy sufficient to raise admiration in any breast, except that
of this unprincipled and unfeeling wretch--this miscreant, eager
to execute the behests of a remoseless queen--"My father is no
heretic: for you have Balaam's mark."
Irritated by reproach so aptly applied, the indignant and
mortified priest concealed his resentment for a moment, and took
the undaunted boy into the house, where having him secure, he
presented him to others, whose baseness and cruelty being equal
to his own, they stripped him to the skin, and applied their
scourges to so violent a degree, that, fainting beneath the
stripes inflicted on his tender frame, and covered with the blood
that flowed from them, the victim of their ungodly wrath was
ready to expire under his heavy and unmerited punishment.
In this bleeding and helpless state was the suffering infant,
covered only with his shirt, taken to his father by one of the
actors in the horrid tragedy, who, while he exhibited the
heart-rending spectacle, made use of the vilest taunts, and
exulted in what he had done. The dutiful child, as if recovering
strength at the sight of his father, on his knees implored his
blessing. "Alas! Will," said the afflicted parent, in trembling
amazement, "who hath done this to thee!" the artless innocent
related the circumstances that led to the merciless correction
which had been so basely inflicted on him; but when he repeated
the reproof bestowed on the chaplain, and which was prompted by
an undaunted spirit, he was torn from his weeping parent, and
conveyed again to the house, where he remained a close prisoner.
Bonner, somewhat fearful that what had been done could not be
justified even among the bloodhounds of his own voracious pack,
concluded in his dark and wicked mind, to release John Fetty, for
a time at least, from the severities he was enduring in the
glorious cause of everlasting truth! whose bright rewards are
fixed beyond the boundaries of time, within the confines of
eternity; where the arrow of the wicked cannot wound, even "where
there shall be no more sorrowing for the blessed, who, in the
mansion of eternal bliss shall glorify the Lamb forever and
ever." He was accordingly by order of Bonner, (how disgraceful to
all dignity, to say bishop!) liberated from the painful bonds,
and led from Lollard's Tower, to the chamber of that ungodly and
infamous butcher, where he found the bishop bathing himself
before a great fire; and at his first entering the chamber, Fetty
said, "God be here and peace!" "God be here and peace, (said
Bonner,) that is neither God speed nor good morrow!" "If ye kick
against this peace, (said Fetty), then this is not the place that
I seek for."
A chaplain of the bishop, standing by, turned the poor man
about, and thinking to abash him, said, in mocking wise, "What
have we here--a player!" While Fetty was thus standing in the
bishop's chamber, he espied, hanging about the bishop's bed, a
pair of great black beads, whereupon he said, "My Lord, I think
the hangman is not far off: for the halter (pointing to the
beads) is here already!" At which words the bishop was in a
marvellous rage. Then he immediately after espied also, standing
in the bishop's chamber, in the window, a little crucifix. Then
he asked the bishop what it was, and he answered, that it was
Christ. "Was He handled as cruelly as He is here pictured!" said
Fetty. "Yea, that He was," said the bishop. "And even so cruelly
will you handle such as come before you; for you are unto God's
people as Caiaphas was unto Christ!" The bishop, being in a great
fury, said, "Thou art a vile heretic, and I will burn thee, or
else I will spend all I have, unto my gown." "Nay, my Lord, (said
Fetty) you were better to give it to some poor body, that he may
pray for you." Bonner, notwithstanding his passion, which was
raised to the utmost by the calm and pointed remarks of this
observing Christian, thought it most prudent to dismiss the
father, on account of the nearly murdered child. His coward soul
trembled for the consequences which might ensue; fear is
inseparable from little minds; and this dastardly pampered priest
experienced its effects so far as to induce him to assume the
appearance of that he was an utter stranger to, namely, MERCY.
The father, on being dismissed, by the tyrant Bonner, went
home with a heavy heart, with his dying child, who did not
survive many days the cruelties which had been inflicted on him.
How contrary to the will of our great King and Prophet, who
mildly taught His followers, was the conduct of this sanguinary
and false teacher, this vile apostate from his God to Satan! But
the archfiend had taken entire possession of his heart, and
guided every action of the sinner he had hardened; who, given up
to terrible destruction, was running the race of the wicked,
marking his footsteps with the blood of the saints, as if eager
to arrive at the goal of eternal death.
Deliverance of Dr. Sands
This eminent prelate, vice-chancellor of Cambridge, at the
request of the duke of Northumberland, when he came down to
Cambridge in support of Lady Jane Grey's claim to the throne,
undertook at a few hours' notice, to preach before the duke and
the university. The text he took was such as presented itself in
opening the Bible, and a more appropriate one he could not have
chosen, namely, the three last verses of Joshua. As God gave him
the text, so He gave him also such order and utterance that it
excited the most lively emotions in his numerous auditors. The
sermon was about to be sent to London to be printed, when news
arrived that the duke had returned and Queen Mary was proclaimed.
The duke was immediately arrested, and Dr. Sands was compelled
by the university to give up his office. He was arrested by the
queen's order, and when Mr. Mildmay wondered that so learned a
man could wilfully incur danger, and speak against so good a
princess as Mary, the doctor replied, "If I would do as Mr.
Mildmay has done, I need not fear bonds. He came down armed
against Queen Mary; before a trator--now a great friend. I cannot
with one mouth blow hot and cold in this manner." A general
plunder of Dr. Sands' property ensued, and he was brought to
London upon a wretched horse. Various insults he met on the way
from the bigoted Catholics, and as he passed through
Bishopsgate-street, a stone struck him to the ground. He was the
first prisoner that entered the Tower, in that day, on a
religious account; his man was admitted with his Bible, but his
shirts and other articles were taken from him.
On Mary's coronation day the doors of the dungeon were so
laxly guarded that it was easy to escape. A Mr. Mitchell, like a
true friend, came to him, afforded him his own clothes as a
disguise, and was willing to abide the consequence of being found
in his place. This was a rare friendship: but he refused the
offer; saying, "I know no cause why I should be in prison. To do
thus were to make myself guilty. I will expect God's good will,
yet do I think myself much obliged to you"; and so Mr. Mitchell
departed.
|
Song of Solomon 5:12 (KJV)