THE ENGLISH MISSION
Conditions after Henry VIII--Allen--Persons--Campion--Entrance
into England--Kingsley's Caricature--Thomas Pounde--Stephens--
Capture and death of Campion--Other Martyrs--Southwell, Walpole
--Jesuits in Ireland and Scotland--The English Succession--
Dissensions--The Archpriest Blackwell--The Appellants--The
Bye-Plot--Accession of James I--The Gunpowder Plot--Garnet,
Gerard.
When Dr Allen suggested to Father Mercurian to send Jesuits to the
English mission, Claudius Aquaviva came forward as an enthusiastic
advocate of the undertaking, and was one of the first to volunteer. He
was not, however, accepted, because evidently only English-speaking
priests would be of any use there. But his election as General shortly
after gave new courage to Campion and his companions when they were in
the thick of the fight.
Dr Allen had left England in 1561, and taken refuge in Belgium, but he
returned in the following year, and went around among the persecuted
Catholics, exhorting them to be steadfast in their Faith. He found that
the people were not Protestants by choice, and he was convinced that all
they needed was an organized body of trained men to look after their
spiritual needs, to comfort them in their trials, and to keep them
well-instructed in their religion. Because of the lack of such help they
were not only becoming indifferent, but were almost ready to compromise
with their persecutors. Henry had confiscated ninety colleges, two
thousand three hundred and fourteen chantries and free chapels and ten
hospitals, besides putting to death seventy-six priests and monks,
beginning with Fisher, the Bishop of Rochester, as well as a great
number of others, gentle and simple, conspicuous among whom was the
illustrious chancellor, Thomas More. There was a partial cessation of
persecution when Edward VI, a boy, was placed on the throne, and, of
course, the conditions changed completely when Mary Tudor came to her
own. But when the terrible Elizabeth, infuriated by her excommunication,
took the reins of government in her hands, no one was safe.
Unfortunately, however, in the interval, the people had become used to
the situation, and it began to be a common thing for them to resort to
all sorts of subterfuges, even going to Protestant churches to conceal
their Faith. Hence, there was great danger that, in the very near
future, Catholicity would completely die out in England. Allen proposed
to Father Mercurian to employ the Society to avert that disaster.
Some of the General's consultors balked at the project because it
implied an absolutely novel condition of missionary life. There were
none of the community helps, such as were available even in the Indies
and in Japan; for, in England, the priest would have to go about as a
peddler, or a soldier, or a sailor, or the like, mingling with all sorts
of people, in all sorts of surroundings, and would thus be in danger of
losing his religious spirit. The obvious reply was that if a man
neglected what helps were at hand he would no doubt be in danger of
losing his vocation, but that otherwise God would provide. Allen had
already founded a missionary house at Douai in 1568, and its success may
be estimated from the fact that one hundred and sixty priests, most of
them from the secular clergy, who had been trained there, were martyred
for the Faith. He had succeeded also in obtaining another establishment
in Rome. In 1578, however, when the occupants of Douai were expelled,
they were lodged at Rheims in the house of the Jesuits. Meantime, the
Roman foundation had been entrusted to the Society; and with these two
sources of supplies now at his disposal, Father Mercurian determined to
begin the great work.
The most conspicuous figure in this heroic enterprise was Edmund
Campion. He was born in London, and after the usual training in a
grammar school was sent to Christ's Hospital. There he towered head and
shoulders over everyone; and when Queen Mary made her solemn entry into
London, it was he who made an address of welcome to her at St. Paul's
School. With the queen on that occasion was her sister Elizabeth. Later,
when Sir Thomas White founded St. John's College, Oxford, Campion was
made a junior fellow there, and "for twelve years," says "The Catholic
Encyclopedia," "he was the idol of Oxford, and was followed and imitated
as no man ever was in an English University except himself and Newman."
The "Dictionary of National Biography" goes further and informs us that
"he was so greatly admired for his grace of eloquence that young men
imitated not only his phrases but his gait, and revered him as a second
Cicero." He was chosen to deliver the oration at the re-interment of Amy
Robsart, the murdered wife of Robert Dudley, afterwards Earl of
Leicester. The funeral discourse on the founder of the college was also
assigned to him. In 1566 when Queen Elizabeth visited Oxford, Campion
welcomed her in the name of the University, and was defender in a Latin
disputation held in presence of her majesty. The queen expressed her
admiration of his eloquence and commended him particularly to Dudley for
advancement.
Father Persons assures us that "Campion was always a Catholic at heart,
and utterly condemned all the form and substance of the new religion.
Yet the sugared words of the great folk, especially the queen, joined
with pregnant hopes of speedy and great preferment, so enticed him that
he knew not which way to turn." While in this state of mind, he was
induced by Cheyney, the Bishop of Gloucester, who had retained much of
the ancient Faith, to accept deacon's orders and to pronounce the oath
of supremacy, but the reproaches of a friend opened his eyes to his sin;
and in anguish of soul, he abandoned all his collegiate honors. In
August, 1569, he set out for Ireland. The reason for going there was to
participate in a movement for resurrecting the old papal University of
Dublin, the direction of which was to be entrusted largely to him. The
scheme, however, fell through, chiefly on account of Campion, but very
much to his credit. His papistry was too open. Meantime, he had written
a "History of Ireland" based chiefly on Giraldus Cambrensis, which has
ever since strongly prejudiced Irish people against him, notwithstanding
his sanctity. But his good name has recently been restored by the
distinguished Jesuit historian, Father Edmund Hogan, who tells us, that
when Campion fled from Dublin to escape arrest for being a Catholic his
manuscript fell into the hands of his pursuers who garbled and mutilated
it at pleasure. He himself never published the book.
It will be of interest to students of literature to learn that one of
Shakespeare's most famous passages was borrowed from this "History,"
namely, the description of Cardinal Wolsey in Henry VIII. Whole passages
have been worked into the play. As Campion wrote it in 1569, when
Shakespeare was only four or five years old, its authorship is beyond
dispute. Conditions finally became so unpleasant in Dublin that he was
obliged to take to flight. He left Ireland disguised as a serving-man
and reached London, in time to witness the execution of Dr. Storey in
June, 1571. That completed the work of his conversion, and he went to
Douai, where after a recantation of his heresy, he resumed his course of
scholastic theology; a year later, he set out for Rome as a penniless
pilgrim, arriving there barefooted and in rags, much to the amazement of
one of his former Oxford admirers, who met him on the street.
He was received into the Society by Father Mercurian, and made his
novitiate at Prague in Bohemia, where he was ordained in 1578. He was
one of the first group of missionaries who left the Continent for
England under the guidance of Persons. In the party were Dr. Goldwell,
Bishop of Saint Asaph, thirteen secular priests, three Jesuits: Persons,
Campion and Ralph Emerson, a lay-brother, besides two young men not in
orders. Goldwell had been consecrated as early as 1555 and had
accompanied Cardinal Pole to England; he was England's sole
representative at the Council of Trent. He was now on his way again to
his native country, but he fell ill at Rheims and, according to the
"Dictionary of National Biography," was recalled by the Pope. "This,"
says Dr. Guilday (English Refugees, p. 125), "was a disappointment to
Persons. The presence of a bishop in England had been a condition of the
Jesuits' taking up the burden of converting lapsed Catholics, and
despite all the rebuffs the demand for a hierarchy met at Rome, the
Jesuits themselves continually renewed it." These words of the
distinguished historian who is the most recent witness in the matter of
the archipresbyterate are invaluable testimony on a sorely controverted
point.
The missionaries left Rome on foot, and passing through Milan were
detained for a week by St. Charles Borromeo, who made Campion discourse
every day to the episcopal household on some theological topic. From
there they directed their steps to Geneva and were bold enough to visit
Theodore Beza in his own house, but he refused to discuss religious
matters. At Rheims Campion spoke to the students on the glory of
martyrdom. Finally he and Persons arrived at Calais, and made their
plans to cross the Channel; the other missionaries had meantime
scattered along the coast, as it would have been manifestly unsafe for
all to embark at the same place. Persons went aboard the boat disguised
as a naval officer, and on stepping ashore at Dover presented himself
with supreme audacity to the port warden or governor, and asked for a
permit for his friend "Patrick," a merchant who was waiting on the other
side for leave to cross. "Patrick" was Campion. He had used that name
when escaping from Ireland, and as it had stood him in good stead then,
he again assumed it.
Campion, however, did not play his part as well as Persons, for the
governor eyed him intently and said: "You are Doctor Allen." "Indeed, I
am not," replied Campion. "Well, you are a suspicious character, at all
events, and your case must be looked into." A council was accordingly
held, and it was decided to send the new-comer to London, under an armed
escort. Campion thought himself lost, but up in his heart arose a
prayer: "O Lord, let me work at least one year for my country, and then
do with me what Thou wilt." Immediately a change came over the
Governor's face, and, to the amazement of everyone, he said: "I was
mistaken; you can go." Full of gratitude to God, the future martyr made
all haste for London, where someone was on the look-out for him, and he
soon met Father Persons.
Such are the plain facts taken from the writings of Campion to his
superiors, describing his arrival in England. But the public mind had
to be debauched on this as on every other point concerning the Jesuits,
even at the expense of the man whom Oxford is still proud of as a
scholar and a gentleman, who was called by Cecil "one of the diamonds of
England," and whose grace and beauty and eloquence made him the favorite
of Dudley and Elizabeth. In spite of all that, however, Kingsley, in his
"Westward Ho" (chap. iii), describes Campion at this juncture of his
life as "a grotesque dwarf whose sword, getting between his spindle
shanks, gave him, at times, the appearance of having three legs, and
figuring sometimes as a tail when it stuck out behind. He was so small
that he could only scratch at the ribs of his horse which he was trying
to mount on the wrong side, but he finally succeeded in gaining his seat
by the help of a stool." He also wore "a tonsure," we are informed, "cut
by apostolic scissors," and Londoner though he was, he is made to speak
of his countrymen as "Islanders." Persons also is described as a
blustering, blaspheming bully, who gives himself absolution for his own
transgressions. All this is omitted, however, from the school edition of
"Westward Ho."
Persons and Campion set to work immediately, and soon managed to call a
meeting of the priests who were in hiding in various places of the
country. The purpose of the summons was to let them know that the
newcomers had received the most stringent orders from their superiors to
keep absolutely aloof from anything savoring of politics. At Hoxton,
Campion made a written statement to that effect; and it was there that
he received a visit from one of the most interesting, and, to some
extent, the oddest of the English missionaries--a man who was made a
Jesuit by letter--the famous Thomas Pounde.
Pounde had begun by being a very conspicuous fop at the court of Queen
Elizabeth. He was a favorite of the queen, and had, on one occasion,
prepared a splendid pageant at which her majesty was present. One of its
features was a dance, a _pas seul_ by himself. However, as luck would
have it, he stumbled and fell right at the queen's feet. The accident
was ridiculous enough to humiliate him, but when his gracious sovereign
honored him with a brutal kick, and called out scoffingly: "Get up, Sir
Ox," Pounde arose, indeed, but not as an ox. He was a changed man. Up to
that, though a Catholic, he had put his religion aside altogether. Now,
he openly proclaimed his Faith and exhorted others to do the same. The
result was that he was confined in almost every dungeon of the kingdom.
He was loaded with fetters and shut up in cells where no ray of light
could penetrate; and when liberated, either through the influence of
friends, or because he had served the appointed term, he was
incarcerated again. Everywhere and at all times he preached the truths
of the Faith, not only in a courageous, but in an extraordinarily joyous
fashion to his fellow-prisoners, or to people outside the jail, making
converts of many and inducing others to amend their lives. Of the latter
class was a certain Thomas Cottam, an Oxford man, who, thanks to his
friend Pounde, not only became very devout, but, after he had succeeded
in getting to the Continent, became a Jesuit and returning later was
martyred at Tyburn on May 30, 1582.
A chance reading of the Jesuit missions in India had quite captivated
Pounde, as well as a friend of his, named Thomas Stephens, who used to
go around disguised as Pounde's servant. They determined to make for the
Continent and to ask for admission to the Society. On the way, Pounde
was captured because he had stopped too long in trying to convert a
Protestant who had given him shelter; Stephens, however, reached Rome
and was admitted to the Society. But instead of being sent back to
England, as one would have fancied, his longing for India was satisfied,
and we find him in Goa, on October 24, 1579. He was there known as Padre
Estevão, or Estevan, or again as Padre Busten, Buston, or de Buston, the
latter names being so many Portuguese efforts to pronounce Bulstan, in
Wiltshire, England, where Stephens was born about 1549. As we see from
the dates, he had then reached the age of 30. He is mentioned in
Hakluyt's "Voyages" as the first Englishman who ever went to India.
Hakluyt's information came from a series of letters which Stephens wrote
to his father, "offering the strongest inducements to London merchants
to embark on Indian speculations." These letters bore such evidence of
sound commercial knowledge that they are regarded as having suggested
the formation of the English East India Company.
Father Stephens spent his first five years as minister of the professed
house at Goa, and was then sent to Salsette as rector, and, for a time,
was socius to the visitor. After that he spent thirty-five years as a
missionary among the Brahmin Catholics of Salsette, but his labors in
that field did not prevent him from doing a great deal of hard literary
work. Thus, he was the first to make a scientific study of Canarese. He
also plunged into Hindustani, and wrote grammars and books of devotion
in those languages. Most of his writings, however, were lost at the time
of the Suppression of the Society. He died in Goa in 1619. (The Catholic
Encyclopedia, XIV, 292.)
Pounde's Jesuit work was quite different from that of Stephens. Not
being able to present himself in person to the General, he asked by
letter to be received into the Order. It was on December 1, 1578, while
he was imprisoned in the Tower that an answer came from Father Mercurian
granting his request. That encouraged him to labor more strenuously than
ever, and for thirty years he kept on defying the Government. Lingard
gives one notable instance of his audacity, though the great historian
does not seem to be aware that Pounde was a Jesuit. In the proceedings
connected with the Gunpowder Plot, someone was sentenced for harboring a
Jesuit. Pounde appeared in court to protest against the ruling of the
judge, with the result that he himself was arrested. He was condemned to
have one of his ears cut off, to go to prison for life, and to pay a
fine of a thousand pounds, if he did not tell who advised him to act as
he did. He did not lose his ear; while he was in the Tower the queen,
Anne of Denmark, interceded in his behalf. Her loving husband, however,
King James I, told her: "never to open her mouth again in favor of a
Catholic." Finally he got off by standing a whole day in the pillory, an
experience which he probably enjoyed, for in spite of dungeons and
chains and loss of property and his own terrible austerity--he often
scourged himself to blood--he never lost his spirit of fun. He ended his
wonderful career on March 5, 1615, at the age of 76, at Belmont,
breathing his last in the room in which he was born.
When Campion was caught on his way to Lancashire and brought to London,
where he was stretched on the rack and interrogated again and again
while being tortured, the story was circulated that he had, at last, not
only recanted, but had revealed secrets of the confessional. Pounde was
in a fury about it, and wrote Campion an indignant letter, but he found
out that it was one of the usual tricks of the English Government. The
same villainy had been practised by Elizabeth's father on More and
Fisher, but like them, Campion was too true a man to yield to suffering.
On August 31, by order of the queen, bruised as he was and almost
dismembered by the long and repeated rackings, he was led with Sherwin
to a public disputation in the royal presence. Against them were Nowell
and Day, two of the doughtiest champions of heresy that could be found
in the kingdom. The dispute lasted for four hours in the morning and
four in the afternoon--the intention being to keep it up for days. It
was during this debate that the listeners saw with horror, as Campion
stretched out his arms to emphasize his words by a gesture, that the
nails had been torn off the fingers of both hands. The public
discussions ended after the second session, for Nowell and Day had been
completely beaten. What happened in the examinations held after that,
behind closed doors, the authorities never let the world know, but it
leaked out that Campion had made many converts among those who came to
hear him. One of them was Arundel, who subsequently died for his faith
on the scaffold.
On November 14 the Jesuits, Campion and Thomas Cottam, with Ralph
Sherwin, Bosgrave, Rhiston, Luke Kirby, Robert Johnson and Orton,
secular priests, were called for trial. They all pleaded innocent of
felony and rebellion. "How could we be conspirators?" Campion asked, "we
eight men never met before; and some of us have never seen each other."
On November 16, six others were cited. It was on this occasion that
Campion answered the question: "Do you believe Elizabeth to be the
lawful queen?" "I told it to herself," he said, "in the castle of the
Duke of Leicester." Thither he had been called for a private interview,
and Elizabeth recognized him as the Oxford man and the little lad of
Christ Church, who, not then dreaming of the terrible future in store
for him, had paid the homage of respectful and perhaps affectionate
loyalty to her majesty. At that meeting were Leicester, the Earl of
Bedford, two secretaries of state and the queen. As the prosecution was
so weak and the defense made by Campion was so unassailable, everyone
expected an acquittal, but to their amazement, a verdict of guilty was
brought in. "The trial," says Hallam, "was as unfairly conducted and
supported by as slender evidence as can be found in our books."
(Constitutional History of England, I, 146.)
When the presiding judge asked the accused if they had anything to say,
Campion replied: "The only thing that we have now to say is that if our
religion makes us traitors we are worthy to be condemned, but otherwise
we are and have been as true subjects as ever the queen had. In
condemning us, you condemn all your own ancestors, all that was once the
glory of England, the Island of Saints, and the most devoted child of
the See of St. Peter. For what have we taught, however you may qualify
it with the odious name of treason, that they did not uniformly teach?
To be condemned along with those who were the glory not of England alone
but of the whole world by their degenerate descendants is both glory and
gladness to us. God lives; posterity will live, and their judgment is
not so liable to corruption as that of those who are now going to
condemn us to death." When the sentence was uttered, Campion lifting up
his voice intoned the "Te Deum laudamus" in which the others joined,
following with the anthem "Hæc est dies quam fecit Dominus, exultemus et
lætemur in ea" (This is the day which the Lord has made; let us rejoice
and exult in it.) There were conversions in the courtroom that day.
The scene at the scaffold on December 1, was characterized by the
brutality of savages. The victims were placed on hurdles and dragged
through the streets to Tyburn. Campion was the first to mount the fatal
cart, and when the rope was put about his neck and he was addressing the
crowd that thronged around, Knowles interrupted him with, "Stop your
preaching and confess yourself a traitor." To which Campion replied, "If
it be a crime to be a Catholic, I am a traitor." He continued to speak,
but the cart was drawn from under him and he was left dangling in the
air. Before he breathed his last he was cut down, his heart was torn out
and the hangman holding it aloft in his bloody hand, cried out, "Behold
the heart of a traitor!" and flung it into the fire. Alexander Briant
and Ralph Sherwin then met the same fate. Previous to this gruesome
tragedy, 4,000 people had been won back to the Faith.
Thomas Cottam and William Lacey were the next English martyrs of the
Society. The latter calls for special mention. He was a Yorkshire
gentleman, who for some time thought that he could, with a safe
conscience, frequent Protestant places of worship, but as soon as he was
made aware that it was forbidden, he desisted; and fines and vexations
of all kinds failed to change his resolution. Becoming a widower, he
determined in spite of his years to consecrate himself to God, and
having met Dr. Allen at Rheims, he went to Rome, where, after his
theological studies he was ordained a priest, and returning to England
labored strenuously to revive the faith of his fellow-countrymen. He
succeeded even in entering a jail in York where a number of priests were
confined, and afforded them whatever help he could. As he was leaving,
he was arrested and was executed a month later, August 22, 1582. Father
Possoz, S. J., the author of "Edmond Campion," says "there is no mention
of Lacy, either in Tanner or Alegambe, but I found, in the catalogue of
Rayssius, 'Gulielmus Lacæus, sacerdos romanus qui in carcere
constitutus, in Societatem Jesu fuit receptus.'" The same is true of
Thomas Methame who did not die on the scaffold, but after seventeen
years of captivity in various prisons, gave up the ghost at Wisbech in
1592 at the age of sixty. He was remarkable for his profound knowledge
both of history and theology. There also appears on the list an
O'Mahoney (John Cornelius), who was a ward of the Countess of Arundel.
He was thrown into the Marshalsea, where Father Henry Garnet admitted
him to make his vows. He won his crown at Dorchester on July 4, 1594.
His name is not found in the "Fasti Breviores" or the "Menology," but it
is given by Possoz.
The poet Robert Southwell was martyred on February 21, 1595. Writing
about him, Thurston calls attention to an interesting coincidence in his
life. His grandfather, Sir Richard Southwell, a prominent courtier in
the reign of Henry VIII, had brought the poet Henry Howard to the block,
and yet Divine providence made their respective grandsons, Robert
Southwell and Philip, Earl of Arundel, devoted friends and
fellow-prisoners for the Faith. The poetry, however, had shifted to the
Southwell side, for, unlike his friend, Arundel did not cultivate the
muse. Southwell had been a pupil of the great Lessius at Louvain, and
had made the "grand act" in philosophy at the age of seventeen. At Paris
he applied for admission to the Society, but was refused, and his grief
on that occasion elicited the first poetical effusion of his of which we
have any knowledge. Two years later, however, he was accepted; he was
ordained in 1584, and became prefect of studies in the English College
at Rome. In 1586 he was sent to England, and passed under the name of
Cotton. Two years later he was made chaplain of the Countess of Arundel,
and thus came into relationship with her imprisoned husband, Philip, the
ancestor of the present ducal house of Norfolk. Southwell's prose elegy,
"Triumphs Over Death," was written to console the earl. In going his
rounds he usually passed as a country gentleman, and that accounts for
the "hawk" metaphors which so often occur in his verse. He was finally
arrested at Harrow in 1592, and after three years' imprisonment in a
dungeon which was swarming with vermin, he was hanged, drawn and
quartered. Even during his lifetime, his poetical works were highly
esteemed.
Henry Walpole was one of the spectators at the execution of Campion, and
that gave him his vocation. He was admitted to the Society by Aquaviva,
and made his second year of noviceship at the now famous Verdun. He was
chaplain of the Spanish troops in Flanders, and was for some time in
Spain. From there he went to Dunkirk where he embarked for England on a
Spanish ship which landed him on the coast sixteen miles from York.
There he fell into the hands of the Earl of Huntington, a grandnephew of
Cardinal Pole, but a bitter foe of the Church. He was shifted about from
prison to prison for a year or more, and was stretched on the rack
fourteen times; at length, he was executed at York on April 7, 1595.
Roger Filcock, who was put to death at London, on February 22 or 27,
1601, was a secular priest who was admitted to the Society while engaged
in the work of the missions. So also was Francis Page. He had been a
Protestant lawyer, and was engaged to a Catholic lady who converted
him, but instead of marrying her he became a priest. One day, while
celebrating Mass, he was so nearly caught that the chalice on the altar
was found, but he had time to get into his secular clothes and escape.
He applied for admission to the Society and was received, but before he
could reach the novitiate in Flanders he was seized, racked and put to
death in London on April 20, 1602.
Twenty years after the visit of Salmerón and Brouet to Ireland, David
Wolff was sent there as Apostolic delegate. O'Reilly in his "Memorials"
says, he was one of the most remarkable men who labored in Ireland
during the first years of Elizabeth's reign. About 1566, he was captured
and imprisoned in Dublin Castle, from which he escaped to Spain. He
returned again in 1572, and died of starvation in the Castle of Clonoan
near the borders of Galway. Bishop Tanner of Cork had been a Jesuit, but
was obliged to leave the Society on account of his health. He was
imprisoned in Dublin, tortured in various ways and in 1678, after
eighteen months' suffering, died in chains. In 1575 Father Edmund
Donnelly was hanged and disembowelled in Cork and his heart thrown into
the fire. In 1585 Archbishop Creagh, the Primate of Ireland, who was
poisoned while in jail in Dublin made his confession, says O'Reilly "to
a fellow-prisoner, Father Critonius of the Society of Jesus." In 1588
Maurice Eustace, a young novice, was hanged and quartered in Dublin.
Brother Dominick Collins, who had been a soldier in France and Spain,
was executed at Youghal in 1602. He was the last of Elizabeth's victims.
An interesting character appears at this juncture in the person of
Father Slingsby, the eldest son of Sir Francis Slingsby, a Protestant
Englishman settled in Ireland. Young Francis was converted to the Faith
in 1630, when he was twenty-two years old; he made up his mind to be a
Jesuit, but in obedience to his father's order he returned to Ireland.
He was imprisoned in Dublin. At the request of the queen, Henrietta
Maria, however, he was not executed but banished from the kingdom.
Returning to Rome in 1636, he was received into the Society in the
following year. It was the intention of his Superiors to send him back
to Ireland but he was detained on the Continent for his studies. He was
ordained a priest in 1641 and a short time afterwards died at Naples
with the reputation of a saint. Meantime he had converted most of his
Protestant relatives. In 1642 Father Henry Caghwell, who had taught
philosophy to Father Slingsby, was dragged from his house in Dublin,
paralytic though he was, scourged in the public square, and left lying
on the ground in the sight of his friends, none of whom dared to lift
him up. He was then thrown into prison and after a while flung with
twenty other priests into a ship. He reached France in a dying
condition, but unexpectedly recovered and made his way back to Ireland,
in spite of a storm that lasted twenty-one days. A few days after
landing, he fell a victim to his charity in attending the sick.
Scotland had been visited in 1562 by Father Gouda who was sent to Mary
Queen of Scots to invite her to have her bishops go to the Council of
Trent. He brought back with him six young Scots who were to be the
founders of the future mission. Prominent among them was Edmund Hay, who
became rector of Clermont. In 1584 Crichton and Gordon attempted to
enter their country, but Crichton was captured, while Gordon succeeded
in finding his way in, and was afterwards joined by Hay and Drury. The
Earl of Huntley, who was Gordon's nephew, and for a time the leader of
the Catholic party, joined the Kirk in 1597, and that put an end to the
mission. Prior to that, Father Abercrombie made a Catholic of the
queen, Anne of Denmark, but she was not much to boast of. Meantime, the
Scots College had been founded by Mary Stuart in Paris, and later other
colleges were begun in Rome and Madrid. In 1614 Father John Ogilvie was
martyred at Glasgow, while his associates were banished.
Coming back to England, where more tragedies were to be enacted, we find
that before Campion was executed, Persons had succeeded in reaching
France. He had intended to return after he had secured a printing-press
to replace the one that had been seized, but, as a matter of fact,
England never saw him again. Dr. Allen would not allow him to return;
he, therefore, remained on the Continent and was conspicuous as a
staunch supporter of the French League in its early days, and an
advocate of the invasion of England by Philip II, primarily in the
interest of Mary Queen of Scots, but also, to secure a successor to
Queen Elizabeth. We find him frequently in Spain on various missions: in
1588 to reconcile Philip with Father Aquaviva; at other times, to obtain
from the king the foundations of the seminaries of Valladolid, Seville
and Madrid, as well as of two residences which afterwards developed into
collegiate establishments. Allen had left England in 1565, sixteen years
before Persons, and it is worth noting that during the three years which
he spent in going around from place to place to sustain the courage of
the persecuted Catholics he was not yet a priest. He was ordained only
when he crossed over to Mechlin, sometime in 1565; it was not until
1587, twenty-two years afterwards that he was made a cardinal; he was
never raised to the episcopal dignity. He was mentioned, it is true, for
the See of Mechlin by Philip II, but, for some reason which has never
been thoroughly explained, the nomination, although publicly allowed to
stand several years, was never confirmed. He continued to reside at the
English College in Rome until his death on October 16, 1594.
For some time previously the burning question of the English succession
was being discussed by English Catholics and it did more harm to the
Church in England than the persecutions of Henry and Elizabeth.
Elizabeth had left no issue, and had not designated her heir. Some were
in favor of a certain princess of Spain, who could trace her lineage
back to John of Gaunt, and both Allen and Persons espoused her cause.
Others held out for James VI of Scotland; a rabid partisan on this side
was the Scotch Jesuit, Crichton, who was supported by a very large
contingent of the secular clergy. A similar divergence of sentiment
showed itself in Rome. Thus, for example, the cardinal-protector of the
English mission, Gaetano, was pro-Spanish; the vice-protector, Cardinal
Borghese, was pro-French, and with him was the Jesuit Cardinal Toletus,
who, though a Spaniard, was against his countrymen in this matter. The
Pope was not pro-Spanish. The result was that the English College in
Rome was torn asunder by dissensions or "stirs" and some of the students
gave public scandal in the city. Order was not restored till Persons was
recalled from Spain to be rector of the college, but even he was told to
his face by some of his boisterous pupils that they would never change
their opinion, and they contended that if they died for it they would be
martyrs of the Faith. Conditions were much worse in England itself. Even
among the priests who were confined at Wisbeach, bitter disputes were
kept up year after year in a way that was the reverse of edifying.
Finally, when cognizance of this deplorable state of affairs was taken
at Rome, Father Persons was requested to suggest a remedy, after Dr.
Stapleton, who was a pro-Spaniard, had been summoned to Rome, but had
failed to arrive on account of ill-health. In 1597 Persons, now no
longer rector of the college, presented to the Pope a memorial drawn up
in England asking for the appointment of two bishops, one for England
proper, and the other for the English in Flanders. This proposition was
sent to a commission of the Holy Office, but they gave an adverse
decision, namely that the new hierarchy should not be episcopal, but
sacerdotal, with an archpriest at its head.
Persons, who had been from the outset insisting on the necessity of
sending a bishop to England, did not easily give up his plan, and he
persuaded Cardinal Gaetano to take him around to all the members of the
commission in order to press his views upon them, but without avail. Out
of caution, the Pope resolved not to set up the hierarchy by Papal
brief, and he gave orders to the cardinal-protector, Gaetano, to issue
"constitutive letters" to that effect. The draft for these letters was
prepared in the Papal _Archivi dei Brevi_, where it is still extant
(Pollen, Institution of the Archpriest Blackwell, p. 25; see also Meyer,
England and the Church under Elizabeth, p. 409. Meyer is a German
Protestant). Hence, it is clear that the Jesuits are not responsible for
the establishment of an archipresbyterate instead of an episcopate to
rule England. It was the explicit act of the Holy Office and of the
Pope. Moreover, the trouble that subsequently arose was due, not from
the function itself, but from the person to whom it was entrusted; for,
though Blackwell was the man most in evidence at that time, and one for
whom everyone would have voted, he had too exalted an idea of his new
dignity, and resorted to such high-handed and autocratic methods that
his rule became intolerable. As a result, two Appellants made their way
to Rome, as representatives of the clergy, though, as a matter of fact,
no such commission had been given them. On their arrival, they were
promptly put in seclusion in one of the colleges, and were forbidden to
return to England.
Then began a bitter war of pamphlets between the adherents and the
adversaries of the archpriest. Persons, and the Jesuits, in general,
were especially assailed. One of the malcontents, Bluet, actually put
himself in communication with the Protestant Bishop Bancroft, who
expressed the opinion that "it was clearer than light that Persons had
no other object except the conquest of England by the Spaniards." Bluet
assented, and added that "the charge against the Jesuit would be proved
best by our appeal to the Pope, in which we should make all our
grievances manifest." Bancroft revealed this to the queen, and the
government then did all in its power to foment the dissensions and
facilitate the appeal to the Pope. In 1602 another party of Appellants
set out for Rome with no authorization whatever, except that of their
own faction. On their way they were joined by a Dr. Cecil, who was,
though they were unaware of it, in the employ of the English Government
as a spy--a degradation to which he had descended, not precisely to ruin
his co-religionists, but because he was under the delusion that he could
so reconstruct the Church in England that it would be acceptable to the
queen.
Cecil and his companions were admitted to Rome only because the French
Ambassador, de Béthune, took them under his protection. He had
constituted himself their patron, not, however, for religious reasons,
but merely to score a point against the influence of the King of Spain
with the Pope. Their reception by his Holiness was extremely cold, and
when they reported back to de Béthune, he appeared before the Pope on
the next day, and said: "Hitherto the Catholic policy has been grossly
wrong (_turpiter erratum est_). Nothing has been tried except arms,
poisons, and plots. If only these were laid aside Elizabeth would be
tolerant. Therefore, (1) Your Holiness must withdraw your censures from
the queen; (2) you must threaten the Catholics with censure if they
attempt political measures against her directly or indirectly; (3)
Father Persons and his like must be chastised and expelled from your
seminaries; (4) the Archpriest, who seems to have been constituted
solely to help the Spanish faction by false informations, should be
removed or much restrained; (5) if perhaps all this cannot be done at
once, a beginning should be made by giving satisfaction to the Appellant
priests; (6) then, by degrees, Henri will intervene and Elizabeth's
anger will cool down." As Pollen remarks: "The Frenchman's boldness was
almost sublime. To throw over St. Pius V, Cardinal Allen, Gregory,
Sixtus, Campion and all the seminaries, with one sweeping remark:
_turpiter erratum est_--was worthy of _la furie française_. De Béthune
scoffed at a past already acknowledged to be one of the glories of the
Church, as a period of murder plots, diversified by armed invasions."
On October 12 the Pope gave a Brief to the contending parties to settle
their quarrel. Both sides shouted victory, and the paper was at once
sent to England, where it was intercepted by Elizabeth's spies. The
government responded by a proclamation against the Catholic clergy,
banishing them from the realm lest it might be thought that Elizabeth
had ever meant to grant toleration. "God doth know our innocency," it
said, "of any such imagining." The royal proclamation was cunningly
devised. It declared that all Jesuits were unqualified traitors and
must leave the country within thirty days. For other Catholics, a
commission was to be appointed which, after three months, was to begin
an individual examination of all suspects and deal with them at
discretion.
By the Scottish party this was regarded as the beginning of a new era,
and they, consequently, drafted an instrument stating: (1) that they
owed the same civil obedience to the queen as that which bound Catholic
priests to Catholic sovereigns; (2) that they would inform her of any
plots or attempts at evasion, even when made to place a Catholic
sovereign on the throne; (3) that were any excommunication issued
against them on account of their performance of this duty, they would
regard it as not binding. This statement was issued on January 31, 1603.
It never reached Elizabeth, for she died in the following March. But as
it stood, it was in direct contravention of the Pope's instructions to
the clergy to do all in their power, short of rebellion, to restore the
Catholic succession.
Before the death of Elizabeth, two clergymen, Watson and Clarke had gone
to Scotland to sound James on his possible attitude to English Catholics
in case he obtained the throne. Of course, he was extremely affable, to
them, as he was to the English Puritans, who were just then arrayed in
opposition to the Established Church. But he was no sooner king than he
began to treat both Puritans and Catholics with such rigor that a plot
was formed by both of the aggrieved parties to seize his person and
compel him to modify his policy. Among the Protestant conspirators were
such men as Cobham, Markham, Grey and Walter Raleigh. The whole history
of this singular combination, however, is so confused that it is hard to
pronounce with certainty as to what really was done or intended. But it
appears that the purpose of the Catholic conspirators was to allow the
king to be taken prisoner by the Puritans and then to rescue him from
their hands. It was called the Bye Plot, and was based on the hope that
James would be so grateful for this act of devotion to his interest that
he would grant all their requests. On the other hand, such childish
simplicity seems almost incredible. It was worthy of the visionary,
Watson, who planned it.
The farce ended in a tragedy. The two priests were hanged without more
ado. Of the Puritans, Cobham was sent to the scaffold, and Grey, Markham
and Raleigh, after being condemned, were pardoned. King James received a
letter from the Pope regretting the action of Watson and Clarke, and
assuring him of the abhorrence with which he regarded all acts of
disloyalty. He also expressed his willingness to recall any missionary
who might be an object of suspicion, and both Jesuits and seculars were
ordered to confine themselves to their spiritual duties and to
discourage by every means in their power any attempt to disturb the
tranquillity of the realm (Lingard, History of England, IX, 21).
In 1604 James drew up for Catholics an oath of allegiance which not only
denied the power of the Pope to depose kings, but declared that such a
claim was heretical, impious and damnable. It was condemned by Paul V,
but the Archpriest Blackwell publicly announced that notwithstanding the
condemnation, the oath might be conscientiously taken by any English
Catholic, and he accepted it himself before the Commissioners of
Lambeth. Bellarmine and Persons wrote long expostulations to him, but
without avail. He was finally deposed from office, and Birkhead took his
place as archpriest. "This measure," says Lingard, "was productive of a
deep and long-continued schism in the Catholic body. The greater number,
swayed by the authority of the new Archpriest and of the Jesuit
missionaries, looked upon the oath as a denial of their religion; but,
on the other hand, many preferring to be satisfied with the arguments of
Blackwell and his advocates, cheerfully took it, when it was offered,
and thus freed themselves from the severe penalties to which they would
have been subject by the refusal" (op. cit., IX, 77).
Now came the disaster. Irritated beyond measure by the treachery and the
tyranny of King James I, a number of Catholic gentlemen, some of them
recent converts, formed a plot to blow up the House of Parliament and so
get rid of king, lords and commons by one blow.
While the plans were being laid, some of the conspirators began to doubt
about their right to involve so many innocent people in the wholesale
ruin that must result from this terrible crime. To settle their
scruples, Catesby, the chief plotter, proposed a supposititious case to
Father Garnet, the Jesuit provincial. "I am going to join the army of
the Archduke on the Continent," he said, "and I may be ordered, for
example, to blow up a mine in order to destroy the enemy. Can I do so,
even if a number of innocent persons are killed?" The answer of course
was in the affirmative, and then Catesby made haste to assure his
friends that they could proceed in their work with a safe conscience.
But as time wore on, he was noticed by his friends to be habitually
excited, very often absent from home, and apparently not preparing to go
abroad, as he had said he intended to do. Hence, suspicion was aroused,
and Garnet, having received some vague hints of the conspiracy, took
occasion at Catesby's own table, to inculcate on his host the necessity
of submitting meekly to the persecution then going on. Whereupon Catesby
burst out in a rage: "It is to you and such as you," he exclaimed,
"that we owe our present calamities. This doctrine of non-resistance
makes us slaves. No priest or pontiff can deprive a man of the right to
repel injustice." Garnet, alarmed at this utterance, immediately wrote
to his superior in Rome, and in due time received two letters, one from
the General, the other from the Pope, putting him under strict orders to
do all in his power to prevent any attempt against the State. These
letters were shown to Catesby, but he protested that they were written
on wrong information, and he volunteered to send a special messenger to
Rome to put before the authorities there the true state of things. This
promise satisfied Garnet, and he felt sure the matter was disposed of,
at least, for a time.
This was on May 8, 1605. On October 26, Catesby went to confession to
Father Greenwell, or Greenway, or Texmunde, or Tessimond, a Yorkshire
man, and revealed the whole plot. Greenwell showed his horror at the
proposition and forbade him to entertain it, but Catesby refused to be
convinced, and asked him to state the case to Garnet, under seal of
confession, with leave to speak of it to others, after the matter, had
become public. This will explain how the fact of the confession came out
in the trial. Unfortunately, Greenwell was foolish enough to communicate
it to Garnet under seal of confession. He was bitterly reproved for
doing so, but it was too late; had he kept it to himself, Garnet would
not have died on the scaffold. On November 5 after midnight, the plot
was discovered, and Guy Fawkes, who was guarding the powder in the
cellar of the building where Parliament was to meet, was seized, and
acknowledged that the thirty-five barrels of powder which had been
placed there were "to blow the Scottish beggars back to their native
mountains"--an utterance that won from the king the expression: "Fawkes
is the English Scævola." The other conspirators had time to flee, but
were caught on November 8, at Holbeach House. They made a brief stand,
but in the fight four were killed, among them Catesby. The others, with
the exception of Littleton, who, it would seem, had betrayed them,
purposely or otherwise, were taken prisoners and lodged in the Tower.
"More than two months intervened," says Lingard, "between the
apprehension and the trial of the conspirators. The ministers had
persuaded themselves, or wished to persuade others, that the Jesuit
missionaries were deeply implicated in the plot. On this account the
prisoners were subjected to repeated examinations; every artifice which
ingenuity could devise, both promises and threats, the sight of the
rack, and occasionally the infliction of torture were employed to draw
from them some avowal which might furnish a ground for the charge; and
in a proclamation issued for the apprehension of Gerard, Garnet, and
Greenway, it was said to be plain and evident from the examinations that
all three had been peculiarly practisers in the plot, and therefore no
less pernicious than the actors and counsellors of the treason."
The mention of Gerard in the warrant arose from the fact that two years
previously, namely on May 1, 1604, the first five conspirators, Catesby,
Percy, Wright, Fawkes, and Winter, met "at a house in the fields beyond
St. Clement's Inn, where," according to Fawkes' confession, "they did
confer and agree on the plot; and they took a solemn oath and vowed by
all their force to execute the same, and of secrecy not to reveal it to
any of their fellows, but to such as should be thought fit persons to
enter into the action, and in the same house they did receive the
sacrament of Gerard, the Jesuit, to perform their vow and oath of
secrecy aforesaid, but that Gerard was not acquainted with their
purpose." This document is in the handwriting of Sir Edward Coke, but
there appear in the original paper, just before the phrase exculpating
Gerard, the words _huc usque_ (i. e. up to this). Coke read the passage
to the judges, "up to this" but the words that would have freed Gerard
from suspicion he withheld. "At length," continues Lingard, "the eight
prisoners were arraigned. They all pleaded not guilty, not, they wished
it to be observed, because they denied their participation in the
conspiracy, but because the indictment contained much to which till that
day they had been strangers. It was false that the three Jesuits had
been the authors of the conspiracy, or had ever held consultations with
them on the subject: as far as had come to their knowledge, all three
were innocent." They maintained their own right to do as they had done,
because "no means of liberation was left but the one they had adopted."
Gerard and Greenwell escaped to the Continent, whereas Garnet, after
sending a protestation of his innocence to the Council, secreted himself
in the house of Thomas Abingdon, who had married a sister of Lord
Mounteagle, the nobleman who had first put the authorities on the scent.
According to Jardine (Criminal Trials, 67-70) much ingenuity was
employed at the trial to prevent Mounteagle's name from being called in
question. With Garnet were Father Oldcorne and Owen, a lay-brother, and
also a servant named Chambers. Oldcorne was the chaplain of the house,
but Hallam in his Constitutional History (I-554) says: "the damning
circumstance against Garnet is that he was taken at Hendlip in
concealment, along with the other conspirators." As Oldcorne and the two
others had nothing whatever to do with the affair and as all the
conspirators had been already shot or hanged, "the damning evidence" of
perverting the facts of the case is against Hallam.
On February 1, the Bill of Attainder was read, and day after day, till
March 28, the commissioners visited the Tower to elicit evidence.
Oldcorne was repeatedly put on the rack, but nothing was extorted from
him. So also with Owen, Chambers and Johnson, the chief steward of the
house where the priests were found. On March 1, after Owen had been
tortured, he was told he would be stretched on the rack the two
following days. The third experiment killed him, and it was given out
that "he had ripped his belly open with a blunt knife." Garnet, when
threatened with the rack, replied that "the threat did not frighten
him--he was not a child."
The trial was finally called for March 28. The most distinguished lawyer
in the realm at that time was Attorney-General Coke. He began his charge
by recalling the history of all the plots that had been hatched since
Elizabeth's time; he declaimed against Jesuitical equivocation and the
temporal power of the Pope, and insisted that all missionaries, and the
Jesuits in particular, were leagued in conspiracy against the king and
his Protestant councillors. But when he got down to the real merits of
the indictment, he soon betrayed the groundlessness of his charge. Not a
word did he say of the confessions or the witnesses or their dying
declarations, although he had boasted he would prove that Garnet had
been the original framer of the plot and the confidential adviser of the
conspirators. His whole charge rested on his own assertions, and was
supported only by a few unimportant facts, susceptible of a very
different interpretation (Lingard, op. cit., IX, 63).
Garnet answered that he had been debarred from making known his
information of the plot for the reason that it had been imparted to him
under the seal of confession, and could not be revealed until it had
become public property. His concealment of it, nevertheless, was
considered by the judges as misprision of treason, and on that ground,
and not by anything adduced by the attorney-general, was he condemned.
Indeed, Coke had so utterly failed to prove his case that even Cecil
confessed that nothing had been produced against Garnet, except that he
had been overheard to say in conversation with Oldcorne in the Tower,
that "only one person knew of his acquaintance with the conspiracy." It
is this particular feature of the trial that has evoked ever since a
great deal of hypocritical denunciation of Garnet's lack of veracity.
When asked if he had spoken to Oldcorne or written to Greenway, he
replied in the negative; but it was proved that he had done both. As it
is Coke who alleges this inveracity of Father Garnet, we may reject it
as a calumny for that same distinguished personage declared in his
official report that Garnet, when on the scaffold, admitted his
complicity in the crime, whereas this was flatly denied by those who
were present at the execution. If Coke could lie about one thing, he
could lie about another. But in any case a criminal court is not a
confessional, and the worst offender can plead "not guilty" without
violating the truth. Garnet was executed on March 3, 1606, but his body
was not quartered until life had left it.
Gerard, who had been proscribed, but who was perfectly innocent of any
knowledge of the conspiracy, had made haste to leave the country. It was
a difficult thing to do but he finally succeeded, and at the very time
that Garnet was standing on the scaffold, Gerard was leaving London as a
footman in the train of the Spanish ambassador. A lay-brother was with
him in some other capacity. Such was his farewell to his native
country. He had been sent there as a missionary in 1588, and had stepped
ashore on the Norfolk coast just after the defeat of the Armada--a time
when everyone was hunting for Papists. The story of the adventure of
this handsome, courtly gentleman, who had three or four languages at his
disposal, who was a keen sportsman, a skilful horseman, and a polished
man of the world, and was at ease in the highest society, yet who was
always preaching the Gospel wherever he went, in prisons and even on the
rack, forms one of the most attractive pages in the records of the
English mission. He died in Rome at the age of seventy-three.
During the trial of Father Garnet, Oldcorne had been removed from the
Tower and executed at Worcester on April 7 or 17. Littleton, who had
saved himself at the time of the conspiracy by informing on the others,
begged the father's pardon on the scaffold and died with him. Two years
afterwards, on June 23, 1608, Father Garnet's nephew, Thomas was
martyred in London. He was then thirty-four years old, and had been only
three years a Jesuit.
After the execution of Garnet a much more drastic penal code was
enacted. Henry IV of France, through his ambassador and the Prince de
Joinville, tried hard to restrain the anger of King James, but without
avail, except that two missionaries, under sentence of death for
refusing to take the oath, were saved by the French king's intercession.
He could not obtain the reprieve of Drury, however, who was condemned to
death because a copy of a letter from Persons denouncing the oath of
allegiance was found in his possession. Whether this Drury was a Jesuit
or not cannot be ascertained, for the "Fasti Breviores" and the
"Menology" speak only of a Drury who was killed with another Jesuit in
the collapse of a church at old Blackfriars in 1623. James would not
listen to the remonstrances of Henry; he assured the ambassador that he
was, by nature, an enemy of harsh and cruel measures, and that he had
repeatedly held his ministers in check, but that the Catholics were so
infected with the doctrine of the Jesuits that he had to leave the
matter to parliament. When the ambassador remarked that there was
apparently no difference of treatment whether Catholics took the oath or
not, the king did not reply.