Through the darkness and tempest of that fearful night George Marsh
approached the town, where, in a narrow lane leading from the brow of
the hill by the church, abode his mother and her youngest son. Raising
the latch, he saw the old woman alone, seated by the fire, weeping.
"Praised be His mercy, thou art yet safe!" said she, clasping her
withered hands together. "They have again been here to seek for thee,
and I was fearful thou hadst not escaped their power."
"Who has been here, and from whence?"
"Divers of Justice Barton's servants were here again, not an hour ago,
who have charged thy brother Robert and thy cousin William Marsh to seek
for thee, and by to-morrow, ere noon, to render thee up at Smethells.
They are now gone to Atherton, and elsewhere, for aught I know."
"Then may I not tarry here to-night?"
"Nay, I beseech thee, flee for thy life. In tarrying here shall thou not
escape; for a man's enemies are now truly those of his own household."
Marsh, after a pause, determined to listen to her advice, and departed.
Cold and weary, he retraced his steps, going beyond Dean Church, where,
at a friend's house, he staid for the night, "taking ill rest," as he
quaintly expresses it in his journal, "and consulting much with myself
of my trouble." He expected, or at least hoped, that some intimation
would be vouchsafed from his Master as touching the way he should
pursue, but none was granted; and he lay there, full of tossing and
unquiet, the greater part of the night. On the following morning, at his
first awaking, which was early, being still in heaviness, and not
knowing what to do, came another friend to his bedside, who advised him
that he should in no wise depart, but abide boldly, and confess the
faith. At these words he felt so convinced, and, as it were, suddenly
established in his conscience, that he doubted not, as he says, but the
message was from God. He thenceforth consulted not with flesh and blood,
but resolved on immediately presenting himself before his persecutors,
and patiently bearing such cross as it might please Heaven to lay upon
him.
He arose betimes, and as his custom was, recited the English Litany,
with other prayers, kneeling by his bedside; after which he prepared to
go towards Smethells, calling, as he went, at the dwellings of several
whom he knew, desiring them to pray for him, to commend him to all his
friends, and to comfort his mother and his little children, for, as he
then said, he felt assured that they should not see his face any more.
Taking leave, with many tears and much, sorrow of heart, he came nigh to
the residence of Sir Roger Barton, a bigoted persecutor, and an avowed
enemy of the reformed church.
It was about nine o'clock, on a cold and bitter morning, when he came in
sight of the court-gate. Then surrounded with trees, the mansion itself
was not visible but within a short distance. This house, now ancient and
decayed, then existed in all its pomp and magnificence, having only been
erected, as tradition informs us, some fifty years before, by Sir Andrew
Barton, a famous pirate or free rover, who was knighted by James III. of
Scotland for his great bravery. In the third year of Henry the Eighth,
with two stout vessels called the _Lion_ and The _Jenny Perwin_, he
considerably interrupted the navigation on the English coasts. His
pretence was letters of reprisals granted him against the Portuguese by
James III. Under colour of this grant, he took ships of all nations,
alleging that they had Portuguese goods on board. Complaint being made
to the Privy Council of England, the Earl of Surrey said, "The narrow
seas should not be infested while he had estate enough to furnish a
ship, or a son capable of commanding it." Upon this, two ships were
immediately fitted out, and commanded by Sir Thomas and Sir Edward
Howard, sons to the Earl of Surrey, at their own expense, when, having
been some days at sea, they were separated by a storm, which gave Sir
Thomas Howard an opportunity of coming up with Sir Andrew Barton in the
_Lion_, whom he immediately engaged. The fight was long and doubtful,
for Barton, being an experienced seaman, and having under him a
determined crew, made a desperate defence, himself cheering them with a
boatswain's whistle to his last breath. The loss of their commander,
however, caused them to submit, on which they received fair quarter and
good usage. In the meantime, Sir Edward attacked and captured the _Jenny
Perwin_, after an obstinate resistance. Both these ships, with as many
of their crew as were left alive, about one hundred and fifty, were
brought into the river Thames, on the 2nd of August 1511, as trophies of
the victory. The prisoners were sent to the Archbishop of York's palace,
now Whitehall, where they remained for some time, but were afterwards
dismissed and sent into Scotland.
James the Fourth having then ascended the Scottish throne, after the
murder of his predecessor, exceedingly resented this action, and
instantly sent ambassadors to Henry demanding satisfaction, on which the
king gave this memorable answer, "That the punishment of pirates was
never held a breach of peace among princes." King James, however, was
still dissatisfied, and from that time was never thoroughly reconciled
to the English nation.
Sir Andrew was descended from a good family in Scotland, and adopted a
seafaring life when very young. A motive of concealment might be the
cause of his erecting a mansion here, the roads being then almost
impassable; and the extensive woods, which lay in almost every direction
from this spot, together with its great distance from the sea-side,
might be additional recommendations in its favour. An opinion exists,
though now involved in much doubt and obscurity, that his immediate
descendant was the Sir Roger Barton whom we have already named, and unto
whom this pious servant of the truth was about to commit himself.
On venturing through the gate, Marsh observed several men standing by a
door on the left hand, being the principal entrance.
"What, ho!" said one, "art come to morning prayers?"
"Nay," replied another, "his cap cleaves to a heretic's sconce."
"'Tis Marsh," said the foremost of the group, who proved to be Roger
Wrinstone, the knight's prime minister, constable, and entrapper of
heretics. "Now, by my faith," he continued, "if this wily fox do not
think, by his coming, to take Justice by the nose, and outface her
through his impudence. But he will be sore mistaken if he think to
outwit our master by his cunning. Good friend, thy business?" said
Wrinstone, cap in hand, addressing the minister scornfully, and
thrusting his tongue into his cheek, to the great diversion of his
companions, who, with shouts of laughter, began to ape the buffoonery of
their leader.
"I would fain speak with the Justice," said the stranger, meekly.
"And suppose I were he," said Wrinstone, putting himself into an
attitude of great authority and importance, setting out his paunch, at
the same time, something like unto the knight himself. Another laugh, or
rather titter, went through the courtyard at this exploit; a suspicious
glance, however, was directed towards the casement above, some
apprehensions evidently existing lest Sir Roger should have been
eye-witness to the ceremony.
"Roger Wrinstone, thy mocking is ill-timed," said Marsh, with a severe
and steadfast gaze, which seemed to awe even this unblushing minion of
intolerance. "If thy master be not arisen, I will tarry awhile his
worship's leisure."
"Sir Roger is with his priest at confession," said one, with a shout of
derision. "Art come to confess him too, Father Marsh?" and with that
they plucked him by the beard, mocking and ill-treating him. But, filled
with joy that he was accounted worthy to suffer, he passed from them
into the great hall, at that period a large and lofty room, which, as
tradition reports, would have "dined all the monarchs of Europe, and all
their trains." It has since been much curtailed of its proportions,
modern improvements having appropriated it to more useful purposes. The
wainscots were enriched with choice and beautiful carvings, representing
bucks' heads, flowers, and portraits of the most distinguished ancestors
of the family. So numerous and varied were these ornaments, that, it is
commonly reported, the artist wrought out his apprenticeship in
executing this grand work, which for minuteness and the astonishing
number and ingenuity of the devices, perhaps exceeded most of the like
nature throughout the realm. Amongst other whimsical fancies was a ton
crossed with a bar, having the cyphers A and B above and below, which
worthless and absurd pun, a sort of emblematic wit much cultivated by
our forefathers, indicated the name of the founder, Sir Andrew Barton.
Marsh, on his first entrance, inquired of a servitor if the Justice
might be spoken with. The menial was bearing off the remains of a
substantial breakfast, and having a flagon of beer at hand, invited the
stranger to a hearty draught, saying that he looked tired and in need of
refreshment; but he meekly put it aside, with due courtesy, still
standing as he repeated his question. The man departed to make the
inquiry, when presently followed the constable and his gang, who, seeing
that the hall was cleared, strode in, rudely seizing Marsh by the
shoulder.
"Thou art my prisoner," said Wrinstone; "I arrest thee in the Queen's
name."
At this moment came running in a little girl, bounding and frolicsome as
a young fawn from its covert, who, hearing the word prisoner, and seeing
a man of such a preposessing and benign aspect in custody, immediately
came up to Wrinstone, and laid hold of the skirts of his doublet,
saying,--
"You shan't, Wrinstone. If he has done amiss, let him go, and I'll give
thee some plums out of my midlent pasty."
The meekness and peaceable demeanour of this unoffending servant of the
Church had in a moment won the heart of the child, and she pulled him by
the hand, as if to convey him from the grasp of his persecutor.
"May Heaven bless thee, my child, and make thee a blessing!" He lifted
up his eyes while he thus spake. "Thy nature hath not yet learnt the
cruel disposition of these tormentors."
It is said that his prayer was heard; and a passage in the subsequent
history of this little girl may, in all likelihood, find a place in
another series of our Traditions.
A tear for the first time trembled in the poor man's eye as he looked on
this tender and compassionate babe. He thought upon his own sufferings,
and the hard fate of his own little ones. But he soon repressed the
rising murmur, calmly awaiting the result.
The child still clung to him; nor would she depart, though threatened
with Sir Roger's displeasure by his deputy. Indeed, she cared little for
the issue, being fully indulged in all her caprices by the knight, her
grandfather, who was mightily entertained with her humours. But threats
and cajolements failing in their effect, they were glad to let this
wilful creature accompany them to the presence of Sir Roger as the
dispenser of justice, or rather of his own vindictive will; and to his
private chamber they were shortly summoned.
Now this distinguished knight was heavy and well-fed, and of a rich and
rubicund countenance. From over-indulgence he had become unwieldy, being
propped up in a well-stuffed chair, one leg resting on a low stool, his
whole frame bloated by indolence and sensuality. He was short-necked and
full-chested. His eyes, gray and fiery, were almost starting from his
head, by reason of some obstruction to the free current of the blood in
that direction. This was accompanied by a wheezing and phlethoric
cough, which oft troubled him. At his side sat a priest, who had a fair
smooth face, and a shining head sprinkled over with a few pale-coloured
locks close cut and combed back with becoming care from his temples. His
eyes were small and restless, scarcely for an instant keeping to one
position. He seemed to pay a silent deference to his patron, allowing
Sir Roger to begin the examination as follows:--
"So thy relatives have ferreted thee forth at last. Nothing like making
their kindred in some sort answer for the bodies of these heretics."
"I came of my own free consent, and alone, your worship," replied Marsh;
"and hope to be honestly dealt with. If I have offended the laws, I am
here to answer; if not, I claim your protection."
"Peace! Will none o' ye stop that fellow's prating? Justice thou shalt
have, and that speedily, as thou sayest, but not in the way thou couldst
desire. Look thee!" He fumbled in his pouch as he spake. Drawing out a
letter, he continued--"My Lord Derby hath commanded that thou be sent to
Lathom along with some others who do mightily trouble us, and sow evil
seed and dissension among the people."
"This, please your grace, I deny; and I would know mine accusers, and
what they allege against me."
"Now this is a brave answer, truly," replied the Justice. "These rogues
be all of one tale, pretending that they have done nothing amiss, and
desiring to know, poor innocents! of what they are accused, as though
they were ignorant of their own lives and conversation hitherto. Tush!
it were a needless and an unthrifty throwing out of words to argue the
matter--for they are wiser in their own eyes than seven men who can
render a reason. Do thou question him, and urge him to the test," said
Sir Roger, turning to his conscience-keeper.
"What art thou?" said the priest, leaning forward for the purpose of a
more strict examination.
"I am a minister," said Marsh. "It is but a short time agone since I
served a cure hereabouts."
"Who gave thee orders? Or hast thou indeed received any?"
"The Bishops of London and Lincoln, after that I had diligently studied
and kept terms aforetime at Cambridge."
"Humph!" said Sir Roger. "These bishops be of the reformed sect; and, I
have a notion, will some day or another answer for it before the Queen's
council."
"What knowledge hast thou of these men?"
"I never saw them but at the time I received ordination."
After a few more questions of little moment, the priest threw out the
usual net with which his fraternity were wont to entangle those of
heretical opinions.[17]
"What is thy belief respecting the sacrament?"
"That is a question of too general and multifarious a nature for a plain
and faithful answer."
"Are the bread and wine, by virtue of the words pronounced by the
priest, changed into the body and blood of Christ? And is the sacrament,
whether reserved or received, the very body and blood of Christ?"
"I am not careful to answer such inquiries, seeing that I am but
unskilled and unlearned in scholastic disputes. Why do ye ask me these
hard and unprofitable questions, to bring my body in danger of death,
and to suck my blood?"
"We are not blood-suckers, and intend none other than to make thee a
better man and a good Christian," said the priest, mightily offended.
Whereat Roger Wrinstone, in his great zeal and affection for the Holy
Church, smote Marsh a lusty blow on the mouth, saying--
"Answerest thou the priest so? By your worship's leave I will mend his
ill manners."
The little girl at this rebuke fell a-crying, and her grief became so
loud that Sir Roger was fain to pacify her by ordering Wrinstone to
stand farther apart. With red and glistening eyes she looked up and
smiled at the suffering martyr, who, remembering his own dear babes,
could scarce refrain from embracing her as she clung about him, to the
great displeasure of Sir Roger.
"Answer this reverend and spiritual admonisher, to the true purport and
bearing of his question," said Sir Roger, with a mighty affectation of
sagacity.
"I do believe Christ to be present with His sacrament, inasmuch as He is
alway with His people to the end of time. But as I am not skilful in
matters of such nicety, I would ask of this reverend casuist, who is
more able to answer in questions of such weight than I; who am, as I
said before, unlearned in disputed points; and truly I am in nothing
more wishful than to come at a right knowledge and understanding of the
truth."
"Say on," said the priest, something flattered by this modest appeal to
his opinion.
"Our Lord took the cup and blessed it, of which He then drank, and
afterwards His disciples?"
"Yes. But this doth not sanction its being sent round to the laity,"
replied the priest, not aware of the drift and true bearing of the
inquiry.
"Then He took the bread and brake, and did eat likewise with His
disciples?"
"Of a truth," replied the unwary disputant. "For these questions need
but a plain and simple answer."
"Then," said Marsh, "of a surety He must have ate and drank
Himself!--Nay," continued he, seeing the priest turn pale with rage and
vexation, "I can find none other alternative. For, unlearned and
unpractised as I am; the absurdity of your belief is manifest."
"Thou art a child of perdition--an impious and pestilent heretic! Thou
eatest and drinkest damnation to thyself; and the Holy Church consigns
all such to the flames, and to the fire of eternal wrath hereafter!"
roared the infuriate priest, whose choler waxed hotter in proportion as
he felt unable to withstand the conclusion of his opponent.
"For," as it has been observed, even by some of the most enlightened
Catholics themselves,[18] "theological animosity, so far from being an
argument of men's conviction in their opposite sects, is a certain proof
that they have never reached any serious persuasion with regard to these
sublime subjects. Even those who are most impatient of contradiction in
other controversies, are mild and moderate in comparison of polemical
divines; and whenever a man's knowledge and experience give him a
perfect assurance in his own opinion, he regards with contempt rather
than anger the opposition and mistakes of others. But while men
zealously maintain what they neither clearly comprehend nor entirely
believe, they are shaken in their imagined faith by the opposite
persuasion, or even doubts of other men, and vent on their antagonists
that anger and impatience which is the natural result of this state of
the understanding."
"Master," cried Wrinstone, "shall I fetch the bridle that we so oft use
for scolds and ill women?"
"Ay, do, prithee run, Roger," said the child, hastily, and looking
towards him, "for my grandfather's priest is like to need it soon."
At this the worthy professor of Christian charity and good-will, darting
a furious look at the girl, exclaimed--
"Sir Roger, beware lest this viper thou art hatching be suffered to
sting us. Look to it! This minion of thine is not too young either to
work mischief or to escape its punishment!"
Whereupon Sir Roger, mightily afraid of his spiritual guide and granter
of indulgences, rebuked the offending little one, and ordered her out of
the room. With some difficulty this command was executed; but the
disturbance at the door became so loud, that they were fain again to
admit her, upon a sullen promise that she would behave in a more
reverent manner to the priest, and refrain from interruption.
"Answer me no more with thy deep and devilish sublety," continued this
champion of the Catholic faith; "for of a truth the devil doth
wonderfully aid and abet ye in all disputes touching this holy
sacrament; but show me thy belief in regard to so wholesome and
comfortable a doctrine."
"I have answered before, as far as my weak understanding will permit,
and by God's grace I will not swerve from my profession. A doctrine
pushed to an absurdity is its own refutation."
Then spake one that was standing by, but who had hitherto taken no part
in the debate.
"Truly 'tis a pity that one so proper and well-gifted, and who might
doubtless gain some profitable appointment, should so foolishly cast
himself away by holding these dangerous and heretical opinions. Thou
wilt bring both body and soul into jeopardy thereby. If not for
thyself, yet for thy children's sake, and for thy kindred, who must
needs suffer from thy contumacy, return to the communion from which thou
hast cast thyself out, and to the arms of that compassionate mother who
is ever ready to receive back her erring but repentant children."
"Verily," replied the martyr, "life, children, brethren, and friends,
with all the other delights and comforts of this present state, are as
dear and sweet unto me as unto any other man, and I would be as loath to
lose them if I might hold them with a good conscience. But seeing I
cannot do that, I trust God will strengthen me with His Holy Spirit so
that I may lose all for His sake. For I now hold myself but as a sheep
appointed to be slain, and patiently to suffer whatsoever cross it may
please my most merciful Father to lay upon me. But, as God is my
witness!"--he seemed to speak with a prophetic denunciation, "from these
vile ashes shall a fire-brand come that shall consume and destroy
utterly these bloody men and persecutors of God's inheritance!"
So astonished were the bystanders at his audacity, that they did not so
much as attempt to stay his tongue or to lay hands upon him, whilst he
continued, raising his arm in a threatening attitude--
"Ye killers of the prophets, and destroyers of them whom God hath sent
unto you!--Because we reproach you with your evil deeds, and"--
"Blasphemy?" cried out Sir Roger, who was the first to recover his
speech: "we will have thy tongue bored for its offence."
"Away with him!" cried the priest, who seemed nothing loath to begin his
torments. "Thou shalt to my Lord Derby, and he will know how to deal
with such a bitter and foul-mouthed heretic."
All was uproar and confusion. The Justice was even moved from his chair,
and swore out lustily that by ten o'clock the day following, unless this
blasphemer were delivered at Lathom, he would imprison the whole family
of them: such a pestilent fellow being fit, as he said, to infect all
the parish with the plague of heresy.
Roger Wrinstone and his crew were preparing to drag him down-stairs; but
the Justice, hobbling on his crutch, preceded them, leaning on the arm
of his priest. The party, on their entrance into the hall, found
Marsh's two kinsmen awaiting the event. They soon found that no favour
was intended.
"See to it, knaves," bellowed the knight, "that this fellow is delivered
up to my lord at Lathom by to-morrow, or your own carcases shall answer
for his."
Then did these poor men pray and beseech their kinsman that he would in
some wise conform to the religion of his superiors, or find some way of
escape from a cruel and ignominious death.
But Marsh, standing steadfast before them all, cried out with a loud
voice--
"Between me and them let God witness!" Looking up to heaven, he
exclaimed, as if with a sudden inspiration--"If my cause be just, let
this prayer of thine unworthy servant be heard!"
He stamped violently with his foot, and the impression of it, as the
general notion is, yet remains, to attest the purity of his cause and
the cruelty and injustice of his persecutors.
To this day may be seen the print of a man's foot in the stone, which by
many is believed to exist as a memorial of this good confession.
In shape it is much like that of a human foot, except its being rather
longer than common. In that part where the sole may have rested is a
small dent, as though a man had stamped vehemently on the soft earth,
and the weight of his body had borne principally on that place. The
impression is of a dark-brown or rather reddish hue, and is very
perceptible when damp or moistened by cleaning.
Marsh's subsequent history is soon told. From Lathom, where he was
examined before Lord Derby and his council, and found guilty of
heretical opinions, he was committed to Lancaster, and from thence to
the ecclesiastical court at Chester, where, after several examinations
before Dr Cotes, then bishop of this diocese, he was adjudged to the
stake, and burnt in pursuance of his sentence, at the place of public
execution near that city, on the 24th April 1555.