diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 03:51:51 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 03:51:51 -0800 |
| commit | a13863df613ed9b0bef23871cdd30028b4fdf037 (patch) | |
| tree | 258f1012cf4353c365e7d076e46705a728f79e26 | |
| parent | 075d4aed6caf7a31ea695c2217ba551b39d29359 (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-0.txt | 3509 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-0.zip | bin | 86749 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-h.zip | bin | 585735 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-h/52731-h.htm | 5714 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 125148 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-h/images/i-001-title.jpg | bin | 4436 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-h/images/i-004.jpg | bin | 69685 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-h/images/i-027.jpg | bin | 61068 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-h/images/i-093.jpg | bin | 51468 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-h/images/i-143.jpg | bin | 48523 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-h/images/i-161.jpg | bin | 65861 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-h/images/i-179.jpg | bin | 63397 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-h/images/leaf.jpg | bin | 591 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52731-h/images/maltese_cross.jpg | bin | 558 -> 0 bytes |
17 files changed, 17 insertions, 9223 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8977d06 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52731 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52731) diff --git a/old/52731-0.txt b/old/52731-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5b316ea..0000000 --- a/old/52731-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3509 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Blessed Edmund Campion, by Louise Imogen -Guiney, Illustrated by Durden James - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Blessed Edmund Campion - - -Author: Louise Imogen Guiney - - - -Release Date: August 5, 2016 [eBook #52731] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLESSED EDMUND CAMPION*** - - -E-text prepared by Emmy, MWS, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team -(http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations in color. - See 52731-h.htm or 52731-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/52731/52731-h/52731-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/52731/52731-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/blessededmundcam00guinrich - - - - - -The St. Nicholas Series - -Edited by the Rev. Dom Bede Camm, O.S.B. - - - -BLESSED EDMUND CAMPION - - “Go seek thy peace in war: -Who falls for love of God, shall rise a star!” - BEN JONSON - -[Illustration] - - - -Nihil Obstat. -D. BEDA CAMM - _Censor Deputatus_ - - -Imprimatur: -[Illustration] GULIELMUS _Episcopus Arindelensis - Vicarius Generalis_ - - -WESTMONASTERII, -_die 14 Januarii, 1908._ - - -[Illustration: Campion reading an Address of Welcome to Queen Mary. -_p. 3._] - - -BLESSED EDMUND CAMPION - -by - -LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY - -[Illustration] - - - - - - - -R. & T. Washbourne, Ltd. -Paternoster Row, London -And at Manchester, Birmingham, and Glasgow -1914 _All rights reserved_ - - - - - _Campiani Fratribus - e Provincia Angliæ Societatis Jesu Tribus - opusculum suum - grato affectu - Scriptor_ - - - - -PREFATORY NOTE - - -THIS little book leans much, as every modern work on the subject -must do, upon Mr. Richard Simpson’s monograph: _Edmund Campion, -Jesuit Protomartyr of England_. In many points supplementing or -contradicting that splendid though biased narrative, the present -writer has gratefully taken advantage of the researches of the Rev. -John Hungerford Pollen, S.J. It may also be useful to state that the -contemporary citations, when not otherwise specified, are from two -invaluable witnesses, Parsons and Allen. The translated passages have -been compared with the originals, and sometimes newly rendered. - - L. I. G. - -_St. Ives, Cornwall: Epiphany, 1908._ - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - I. YOUTH: LONDON, OXFORD: 1540-1566 1 - II. THE HOUR OF UNREST: OXFORD, DUBLIN: 1566-1570 14 - III. STEPS FORWARD: IRELAND: 1571 27 - IV. CHEYNEY AGAIN: DOUAY: 1571 40 - V. THE CALL TO COME UP HIGHER: DOUAY, PRAGUE: 1571-1573 53 - VI. THE WISHED-FOR DAWN: BOHEMIA: 1573-1579 64 - VII. A LONG MARCH: ROME, GENEVA, RHEIMS: 1580 75 - VIII. INHOSPITABLE HOME: 1580 88 - IX. SKIRMISHING: THE ENGLISH COUNTIES: 1580 100 - X. MANY LABOURS: AND A BOOK: 1580 112 - XI. AT LYFORD GRANGE, AND AFTER: 1581 129 - XII. THE THICK OF THE FRAY: 1581 141 - XIII. VICTORY: DECEMBER 1, 1581 166 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - CAMPION READING AN ADDRESS OF WELCOME TO QUEEN MARY _Frontispiece_ - - CAMPION IN HIS PROCTOR’S ROBES. GATEWAY OF ST. JOHN’S - COLLEGE, OXFORD, IN BACKGROUND _to face p._ 16 - - ‘P[ATER] EDMUNDUS CAMPIANUS, MARTYR’ ” 80 - - ‘WE HAVE NOT BROKEN THROUGH HERE!’ ” 128 - - CAMPION BEFORE QUEEN ELIZABETH ” 144 - - ‘NOT GUILTY!’ ” 160 - - - - -BLESSED - -EDMUND CAMPION - - - - -I - -YOUTH: LONDON, OXFORD: 1540-1566 - - -THE Campion family seem to have been both gentlefolk and yeomen, and -to have been widely scattered over the land: in Northamptonshire, -Warwickshire, Essex, Sussex, and Devon. Nothing is definitely known, -at present, as to which branch of the Campion family the Blessed -Edmund belonged. Unlike many of the martyrs of Tudor and Stuart times, -he was what is called a “born” Catholic: in more accurate phrase, a -born heathen, as we all are! but baptized in his parents’ religion -soon after his birth in London, on the Feast of St. Paul the Apostle, -January 25, in the year 1540, New Style. Edmund had two brothers, and -a sister, none of whom played any great part in his after life. By the -time he entered the Society of Jesus his father and mother were both -dead: his written expression is that he had “hopes” they died in full -communion with the Church; but evidently he did not know, being abroad, -how it had fared with them in those terribly stormy days for Christian -souls. - -Edmund Campion, senior, was a book-seller, evidently in good standing, -but not well to do. Some rich London guildsmen (probably of the -Grocers’ Company, for it was they who maintained him later), befriended -the promising little boy at just the right moment, when his father -was reluctantly going to apprentice him to a trade; and he was sent, -at their joint expense, to a good Grammar School. Afterwards, under -the same patrons, he entered Christ Hospital, then lately set up in -Newgate Street (out of confiscated Franciscan funds and the generosity -of Londoners), as the “foundation” of the sixteen-year-old king, Edward -VI. Here the small Edmund, full of life and laughter, banded and -belted, ran about in now extinct yellow petticoats, and one of the -earliest pairs of those historic yellow stockings. He was thirteen, and -quite famous already in the school-boy world of London for his learning -and his attractive presence and speech, when Queen Mary Tudor, who had -just succeeded to the English throne, entered her city in state. Out of -many hundred eligible youngsters it was he who was chosen to stand up -before her on a street platform, under the shadow of the old St. Paul’s -Cathedral, and shrilly welcome her in the Latin tongue. The Queen sat -on a white horse, robed in gold-embroidered dark velvet, crimson or -purplish, with the great sword carried before her by the boyish Earl of -Surrey, with eight thousand mounted lords and gentlemen on either side, -all the glittering ambassadors, and a bevy of beautifully apparelled -ladies. On certain figures in that splendid and noisy pageant the child -might have looked with pensive eyes, had he been able to forecast his -own future; as it was, he cannot have failed to observe the Queen’s -younger sister, the thin, watchful, spirited girl who was known as the -Lady Elizabeth. Another was there, of high office, though not of high -descent, who was all goodness, piety and generosity, and may well have -been drawn to notice Edmund Campion for the first time on that sunshiny -afternoon in August, 1553. This was Sir Thomas White, then Lord Mayor -of London, a staunch Catholic. He was an unlearned man and childless, -who became, later, co-founder of the Merchant Taylors’ School, and -enricher of many towns. By 1555 he had opened his College of St. John -Baptist, once a Cistercian house, at Oxford. The Grocers’ Company at -once approached him to admit their Blue-coat ward as a scholar; this -he did, and conceived, almost as soon, a marked attachment to him; -and two years later (when Edmund was not yet eighteen!) he made him a -Senior Fellow. Campion’s other early friends at the University were his -first tutor, John Bavand, and Gregory Martin, a Foundation Scholar like -himself. These two showed towards him a lifelong devotion. - -Mary’s troubled reign had covered the five most susceptible years of -his youth, and restored to the country, despite its legal excesses, -a definitely Catholic tone. Things were soon to change. War by -statute against the Mass was first declared in 1559. Edmund Campion -had left Oxford by the time that St. John’s, deprived of President -after President by the Royal Commissioners, was swept clean of all -the dons who favoured, or in any degree tolerated, the jurisdiction -of that Apostolic See which safeguarded the doctrine and honour of -the Blessed Eucharist. But while he lived in his University world, -he lived untouched. He was not looked upon as a Catholic. Nor was -he such, if his heart could be fully judged by his outward actions. -Buried in literature, philosophy, and pleasant tutorial work, he had -become, in his cultured indifference, what St. Jerome’s accusing vision -called a “Ciceronian,” and not a Christian: a skin-deep Ciceronian, -however. There is only a bare possibility that, on proceeding M.A. in -1564, he escaped taking the wretched Oath of Supremacy, and thereby -acknowledging the Queen as Head in spirituals as well as temporals -within her realm of England. He stretched his conscience, as many were -doing, thinking to help along the unity of faith, thereby defeating -that unity for good and all. An almost unprecedented vogue at Oxford -had served to blind him: he was so happy, so busy, so needed, so much -at home there. Friends encouraged him; undergraduates flocked about -him, and imitated his very gait and tone as they never have imitated -any one else except Newman. - -Campion was a famous Latin scholar; and he was a good Grecian and a -good Hebraist: Greek and Hebrew were studies newly revived just before -he was born. He spoke as well as he wrote. The flamboyant art of -oratory, now almost extinct in our more quiet-coloured century, was -then much studied and admired; and Campion was famous for debates and -addresses and encomiums. When only twenty, he had been called upon to -preach, though a layman, at the re-burial of poor Amy Robsart, Lord -Dudley’s young wife, in the University church of St. Mary-the-Virgin; -and this he did with great grace and animation, and with no small -display of tact, for rumours of a murder with a motive had already got -abroad. Such prominence may have come to Campion through Sir Thomas -White’s request: Sir Thomas had his associations with Cumnor. Four -years later, Edmund Campion was able to put sincere love and sincere -grief into a funeral oration (this time a Latin, not an English one) -for the good and dear Founder himself, whose body was solemnly interred -in the Chapel of his College. - -In September, 1566, Queen Elizabeth made the first and happier of her -two visits to Oxford. In the Queen’s train was Dudley; also a quieter, -plainer, less noticed man, but one out of all comparison with him -for astute power: this was Sir William Cecil, the Prime Minister, -afterwards known far and wide as Lord Burghley. There were farces and -tragedies for the Queen at Oxford, there were musical performances, -theological disputations, and other academic sports. In front of the -vast assemblage stood forth Master Campion of St. John’s, alone in his -ruff, hood and gown. As representative of the University, he welcomed -smiling royalty, and Dudley, now Earl of Leicester, Chancellor of the -University, and royalty’s magnificent favourite. Campion shone, as -well, in the absurd discussions in natural science which followed. -The Queen and Dudley marked him, as they could not fail to do; for -nothing could exceed the courtliness with which he had performed -his task. The Chancellor sent for him in private, and expressed the -Queen’s good-will, whereby Campion might bid, through him, for whatever -preferment he chose. But Campion, always truly modest and full of -ironic humour as well, would ask of his patron nothing, he said, but -his continued regard. The young bookman had a real liking for the -vicious worldling, liked by several sensitively good men, then and -since. Sir William Cecil also took instinctive interest in Campion and -his eager dialectics. Altogether, there was no more popular man in -Oxford or elsewhere. Campion was on the hilltop of professional and -personal success. - -In all this beautiful fountain-play of “the things which are seen,” he -was running the very gravest risk of spiritual ruin. Perhaps he could -not know, in his leaf-hung hermitage, what a tremendous muster of souls -was going on, now that the ancient Church and a new statecraft were to -fight it out in England. Queen Elizabeth’s quarrel with the Pope was -hardly more doctrinal than her royal father’s had been: she, too, would -have been quite content to live all her days as a Catholic, provided -that Catholicism would prove her slave. The battle was not between two -known religions. On one side was conservative England with a belief; -on the other the strong spirit of secularism, plus a few fanatics -formed not by the English, but the Continental Reformation. Religion in -itself troubled the Court party as little as anything could possibly -do. It was because the spirit of Catholicism seemed to them to threaten -their particular kind of national pride, and to interfere with their -particular kind of worldly prosperity, that Cromwell in one great Tudor -reign, Burghley in the other, tried to put it down. They wished to -get good citizenship acknowledged not as an ideal, but as the supreme -ideal, and they cared not how much else was shovelled out of the way. -Their only use for religion was to bring it well under the authority of -the law and the supremacy of the Crown. They had no objection to high -respectability, but a most violent objection to the supernatural life, -because that gives to those who practise it a dangerous independence. -Elizabeth wanted unity and peace. Her subjects were to be forced by -statute to pray less and to pray all alike; and to be thereby trained, -somehow, to put Sacraments and Saints and the Papacy out of their -heads. English humankind were to forsake their happy wild life, as it -were, in the Church Universal, and all become, as if by magic, one -large tame pet lying in a ribboned collar on the royal hearth. This is -a vision which has appealed to many another head of a commonwealth as -desirable, though unaccountably difficult! Some worthy persons have -brought themselves to believe that nothing to speak of happened at -the Reformation. But at the time, everybody understood in the clearest -fashion that an old moral system which would not come to terms had been -dropped, and a more satisfactory one created. It was a working theory -of that age, all over Europe, that a governor had the right to fix the -belief of subjects. What was wanted in England was made to order, out -of the rags of ruined doctrine and discipline. Foreign Protestants -raged over its externals, as having too much of the old thing, but -the bullying State, riding roughshod over Convocation and the laity, -was perfectly at ease, knowing that there was more than enough of the -new thing to colour the whole, and to colour it once and for ever. -There was no affection for “continuity” in those days except among -the “Romans.” The attitude of their persecutors was that of men in a -fury that any Englishman should dare to connect himself either with -the world at large, or with his country’s own disclaimed yesterday. -The State Trials, for instance, bear this out in a score of places. -Many an official answer resembles the one made to that interesting -character Blessed Ralph Sherwin, when he said truly that his coming -back to his own land was to persuade the people to Catholic Unity. “You -well know,” so the Counsel reproved him in Westminster Hall, “that it -was not lawful for you to persuade the Queen’s subjects to any other -religion than by her Highness’s instructions is already professed.” -The “received religion,” or, as it was quite as often called, the -“Queen’s religion,” was simply the new idea of nationalism torn away -from relationship to the arch-idea of nations, which is the law of -God. It was, in practice, no adoring angel at the Altar, but a capable -parish beadle at the door. Now this was never the Catholic conception -of what religion has been, or is meant to be. Happily, many thoroughly -patriotic Englishmen felt that no least jot of Christian revelation, -however much it stood in the way of Cæsar, could, with their consent, -be put by; and to keep it free they were willing to make themselves -very disagreeable indeed to their revered sovereign, and to their more -easy-going countrymen. With that rude definiteness which is ever -their chief family trait, the better Catholics threw their full force -against the Oaths of Supremacy and Acts of Uniformity, as soon as they -understood their meaning. The centuries passed since then prove that -they succeeded in holding asunder what the Queen would join together. -Was it unreasonable that she punished the men who tried to spoil her -dream? And almost the chief of these men Edmund Campion was destined -to be, though years were to pass before he lent his whole heart to the -work God willed him to do. - - - - -II - -THE HOUR OF UNREST: OXFORD, DUBLIN: 1566-1570 - - -THOUSANDS who were comfortably placed in life, and conscientious, too, -had a great deal to suffer until things were made plain. Edmund Campion -began to fret, and argue, and ponder, and pray for light in secret, -for several years going about “that most ingeniose Place” (as a later -lover called Oxford) with heavy thoughts. Oxford itself, despite the -Ecclesiastical Commission fixed there to worry it, was more Catholic -in spirit than any other city in England. Nevertheless Campion’s -temptation to conform was very great. We must remember that many of his -first impressions and memories were Anglican. He was brought up during -his early school life on the new Liturgy, which came into operation -before his tenth year. He knew now, in manhood, that to change about, -and forsake the State religion for the only Church which is as exacting -as her Master, would be to see the ruin of his happy career. His strong -point, in the beginning, was not what is called brute courage. His was -the nervous, Hamlet-like temper, natural to students and recluses, -which, by a fatal error, puts endless thinking into what needs only to -be done. - -[Illustration: Bld. Edmund Campion in Proctor’s robes. - -(Gateway of St. John’s College, Oxford, in background)] - -During these years Campion read a great deal of theology, as in his -position he was bound to do, according to University rules. Where -everything else except his inmost heart inclined him to heresy, -the Fathers drove him back upon the fulness of revealed truth. The -day which he spent with St. Augustine, or St. Jerome, or St. John -Chrysostom, was a day on which (to catch up the phrase of his friend -and biographer, Fr. Robert Parsons, himself a Balliol man) he was ready -“to pull out this thorn of conscience.” But on the morrow returned the -old spirit of obstinacy and delay. Meanwhile the Anglican influence -was gaining for Campion’s dearest friend of many, Richard Cheyney, -the Lord Bishop of Gloucester, was drawing him on towards his own -ideals, which were “Catholic-minded,” if not Catholic. The learned, -gentle and lovable Cheyney withstood with zest the risen Puritan party, -and in his hold on sound doctrine stood apart from all his colleagues -on the Episcopal Bench. He had been brought up as a Catholic, and -ordained according to the full Catholic ritual, in 1534. The reminder -is sometimes needed that Protestants did not shoot up full-grown, -that all original Protestantism was made up of human material once -Catholic. From first to last, however, Cheyney could not be forced to -coerce the Church which he had abandoned. In this he stood not, as has -been stated, quite alone among the Elizabethan Bishops, for Downham of -Chester and Ghest of Rochester shared his honourable abstinence, though -in less degree. The moment Cheyney was out of the way, the Catholics on -his diocesan ground, hitherto safe, were mercilessly harried. He had -been made a Bishop against his will, displacing the true occupant -of the See, when his friend Edmund Campion was two-and-twenty. In most -matters Cheyney followed Luther; Cranmer’s more heretical doctrines, -which prevailed on all sides in England, he thoroughly hated. He -longed always for a reconciliation which was never to be, and never -can be. He longed to see the Catholics (against the well-thought-out -and oft-repeated prohibition of their leaders, between 1562 and 1606) -do a little evil to procure a great good: namely, smooth matters -over, escape their terribly severe penalties, and in the end become -able to leaven the lump of English error, by the mere preliminary -of attendance at the service of Common Prayer according to law, in -their own old parish churches. The Book of Common Prayer, as he would -remind them, was expressly designed to suit persons of various and -even contradictory religious views: Catholic; not-so-very Catholic; -ex-Catholic; non-Catholic; anti-Catholic! Campion often rode over -the hills to Gloucester to sit by the episcopal hearth-fire, book on -knee, and hear such theories as this, and sympathize with the lonely -old man who “saw visions,” and had little else in his vexed life to -content him. His strong double desire was to save by his own effort for -the Church of England separated from Rome, that great body of ancient -belief and practice sure otherwise to be lost in the flood of invited -Calvinism; and to secure Edmund Campion himself as his intellectual -coadjutor and successor, as one of high gifts likely to “drink in -his thoughts and become his heir.” The two were together, not only -in matters of dogma, but in all minor points. Cheyney shared with -Campion dislike of politics, telling the Council that in such matters -he was “a man of small experience and little observation.” He kept -his old priestly ideals, and would never marry. Campion, too, chose -to be a celibate. If he gave his heart to either Church, he saw even -then that it must be an undivided heart. To him, with his underlying -tenderness towards the ancient faith, and his dream of peacemaking -through compromise, which is so English, and just in these matters so -mistaken, the mission thus opened out appealed. Half reluctantly, yet -not realizing the disloyalty of his act (as he himself tells us), he -allowed himself to receive from Cheyney’s hands Deacon’s orders in the -Church of England. - -His interior struggle, from this day forth, went from bad to worse. -With the unaffected simplicity of his character, he talked over his -difficulties not only with Cheyney, but with any one at Oxford who -seemed able to help him. As a consequence, the Grocers’ Company, whose -exhibition he still held, heard rumours, grew uneasy, and began to -suspect him, ending in 1568 by inviting Campion up to London to save -his credit by preaching at Paul’s Cross, and publicly “favouring,” -as they expressed it, “the religion now authorized.” He begged for -time, and that being granted, for more time. He attended a court of -the Company in order to plead engagements, and to say that he was -not his own man, while deep in academic duties and at the service of -undergraduates: “divers worshipful men’s children,” he calls them. He -was Public Orator and Proctor, in fact, by now, as well as Fellow -and Tutor of his College. (He never resided long enough to take his -Doctor’s degree.) He exacted from the Company a written statement -of the dogmas he was expected to avow; and finding it impossible to -subscribe to the hot heterodoxy thus laid down, he cut his first tether -by resigning his exhibition. - -His most brilliant colleague at St. John’s, Gregory Martin, who had -protested in vain against Campion’s diaconate (which was to cause the -recipient extreme remorse for a long time), had become a convert to -Catholicism, and sacrificed all his secular prospects. He wrote to his -dear friend to warn him against ambition, and to urge on him escape -from moral bondage. “Come!” the fervent letter cried; “if we two can -but live together, we can live on nothing. If this be too little, I -have money; and if this also fails, one thing is left: ‘they that -sow in tears shall reap in joy!’” Such earnest words, though seeming -wasted, had their share in shaking Edmund Campion’s rest. - -With the summer term of 1570 his Proctorate expired. He spent the -Long Vacation in tutoring the eight-years-old Harry Vaux, eldest son -of Lord Vaux of Harrowden, who afterwards beautifully redeemed his -childish promise. The end of Michaelmas term found Campion face to -face for the last time with that life which he had so loved, and in -which, with his scientific enthusiasm for letters, he had been such a -wonderful inspiration to young men. There was no conscious motive in -his heart deeper than a thirst for such freedom as had become difficult -in a Puritanizing University, when he cut himself loose, slipped out of -it for good, and took ship for Ireland. - -In the new move he had the approbation of Leicester, and the -companionship of a much-attached Oxford disciple, Richard Stanihurst, -who is remembered by posterity only for his grotesque translation of -Virgil. Campion may well have left home with the understanding that -he should have a clear educational field in Dublin, but he arrived -a little too late. The outlook had been very bright. Some good men -then in power were eager for the revival of the extinct University of -Dublin, an ancient Papal foundation, but ruined, as all the great -Schools were (most of them permanently, some only temporarily), by the -religious changes. The chief supporters of the plan were enthusiastic, -far-sighted, and most liberally inclined towards Catholics. Fear and -prejudice therefore stepped in, in the person of Elizabeth’s Irish -Bishops. The Lord Chancellor, Dr. Weston, wrote privately to the -Queen, deploring the popularity of the scheme, and begging her to -take the unborn foundation “into her merciful, motherly care.” She -followed that advice. In token thereof, in due season arose Trinity -College, Dublin, as a complete checkmate to the earlier project, quite -safe for evermore from Papist blight. Thus was Campion cheated of a -continuance of his natural vocation, in serving upon the staff of the -new University. Two of his friends who had most concern in it were -James Stanihurst, father of Richard, and Sir Henry Sidney, then Lord -Deputy of Ireland, who had proffered it lands and money. Leicester -would have provided Campion with a letter of introduction to Sir Henry, -his own brother-in-law. The latter’s young son, Philip, was at this -time a student in Oxford, where his governor, Thomas Thornton of Christ -Church, afterwards Vice-Chancellor, had been constantly in Campion’s -society. Sir Henry Sidney always bore himself most kindly towards -Campion. The latter lived, a more than welcome guest, under the roof -of James Stanihurst, then Recorder of Dublin, and Speaker of the local -House of Commons. Stanihurst was the head of an Anglo-Irish family -not openly Catholic since Queen Mary’s reign. Indeed, in his public -capacity, he had often sided against Catholicism, although he was as -friendly as Sidney himself to those who professed it. In the midst of -this temporizing household, Campion, himself a temporizer, came during -the winter to be doubted by certain bigots outside. Very possibly he -was too free-spoken. Campion “came to Ireland believing in practically -all Catholic dogmas, even in the Eucharist, and in the authority of -the Council of Trent.” The impression may have got abroad that his -then unknown variety of Anglicanism differed little from the dangerous -creed of times past, lately discovered to be the proper business of -the police! Whatever the reason, Campion began to be a marked man. Sir -Henry Sidney told Stanihurst with heat, that so long as he was Governor -he would see to it that “no busy knave of them all should trouble him,” -on Campion’s account. Under this unpleasant circumstance of espial, -added to the disappointment he had just undergone, the sensitive exile -presently fell ill, and got a most affectionate nursing from the -Stanihursts, till his strength revived. He started as soon to write -a treatise on a subject of which his mind, up to now, had been full: -the character and aim of the ideal youth at the Universities. This -_De Juvene Academico_ reminds us of a theme by another great Oxonian -who was in Dublin three hundred years later, and had also to face the -heartbreaking failure of an Irish University dreamed of, and not to be. -Campion afterwards recast his fine little work, and under its second -form it is to be found among the few _Opuscula_ published after his -death. His comely face and gracious manner were quickly taken into -favour in his Dublin circle. While he was gaining a contrary repute on -hearsay, the few who had access to him nicknamed him “the Angel.” - -Meanwhile, hating idleness, and bent on redeeming what may have looked -like a foolish absence from Oxford, Campion planned the composition -of a brief _History of Ireland_. Friends helped him in “inquiring -out antiquities of the land.” He was what we should call a thorough -“researcher,” a bird by no means common in those early days. He went -here and there among musty manuscript records of the city, and from -library to library in the country, happily gathering in his materials -for work. He had been some three months in Ireland when on a March -midnight there came a sudden warning from the faithful Lord Deputy, -who was on the point of leaving for England. Campion learned thereby -that Weston the Chancellor had pursuivants ready to arrest him the next -morning! The Stanihursts acted at once, and hurried their friend into -the care of Sir Christopher Barnewall and Dame Marion Sherry, his -wife, of Turvey House, in the parish of Donabate, eight miles away. -There, breathless with the sudden flight through the dark, the three -devoted escorts left him in safety. - - - - -III - -STEPS FORWARD: IRELAND: 1571 - - -THE Barnewalls were in feeling both more Catholic and more Irish than -the Stanihursts, and they showed Edmund Campion a no less tender -hospitality. The great house was in a beautiful and remote situation. -Running in and out of it was a horde of laughing children, including -the eleven-year-old Janet who was to become Richard Stanihurst’s -early-dying wife. Campion loved the hearty Knight, their father, and -their lady mother, whom he calls “in very sooth, a most gentle and -godly woman.” Though he mingled freely with the life of the family, -he was considerately given the great garret to write in and hide in. -Here he began his little _History_. First of all, though, he sent back -a grateful missive in Latin to the men who had been so providently -kind to him. To the Recorder, he says: “Was I not fortunate in such -friendship and patronage as yours? How good, how generous it was of -you to take in an unknown stranger, and to keep him all these months -on the fat of the land! You looked after my health as carefully as -after Richard’s, the son worthy of your love. You supplied me, too, -with books, and made the best possible provision for my time of study: -may I perish, if ever in this world, outside my room in Oxford, I had -sweeter dealings with the Muses!... Up to this, I have had to thank -you for conveniences; but now I must thank you for my rescue, and my -very breath,—yes, breath is just the word! for they who succumb to -these persecutors are wont to be thrust into dismal dungeons, where -they inhale filthy fogs, and are cut off from wholesome air. But now, -through you and your children’s kindness, I shall live, please God -... most happily.” The stress laid, in this affectionate letter, upon -the writer’s appreciation of personal care, of the privacy dear to -students, of good diet and pure air, tells its own tale of physical -delicacy. Campion was slight in build, and like many another tireless -and quenchless spirit known to history, at no time really strong. He -ends by asking that his St. Bernard may be sent on to him, and encloses -a lively page for his friend Richard, recalling the service rendered in -snatching him from danger, and conveying him to Turvey House. “Is it -not hard,” Campion breaks out, “that beholden to you as I am, I have -no way of showing it?... Meanwhile, if these buried relics have any -flavour of the old Campion, their flavour is for you ... you and your -brother Walter ... you, up that whole night through, and he, summoned -to us from his wife’s side. Seriously, I owe you much. I have nothing -to write about unless you have time and inclination for a laugh. Have -you? Then hold your breath, and listen! The day after I came here, as -I sat down to work, into the bedroom burst a poor old soul, coming on -what business I wot not. She knew nothing of me, so seeing me suddenly -at her left, took me for a ghost! Her hair rose on end; she went dead -white; she stared aghast; her jaw fell. ‘What is the matter?’ quoth I, -whereupon she almost collapsed with fright. Not a syllable could she -utter, but made shift to flounce out of the room, and pour into her -mistress’s ear how some sort of hideous spectre had appeared to her -on the top floor! This was repeated to me at supper. They called the -little old thing in, and made her relate her scare. We all nearly died -with laughter; and I was established as quite alive.” - -The book, put together, as was almost all Campion’s literary work, -under highly disturbing conditions, is unfinished; and what there -is of it is sketchy and out of proportion. One of its charms is its -character-drawing, including the speeches with which, after the fashion -of Livy, Campion fits the situation by putting them into the mouths -of his personages. His was a dramatic mind. He knew both history and -human nature: the latter knowledge crops up everywhere in all that -he wrote, and spoke, and did, and supplied him with no small share -of his power over others. The outstanding charm of the _History of -Ireland_ is its style, crisp, arresting, bright with idiom: an idiom so -noble and so much his own, that one understands the almost breathless -admiration with which his generation looked up to him and listened to -him. But this book, like the _View of the Present State_, written some -seventeen years later by another gentle-hearted Englishman, the poet -Spenser, is all wrong in its theory that to get any footing in the -modern world the “mere Irishry” must be Anglicized. Campion did not -know the Celts, their laws, nor their literature; he never came nearer -to them than through chronicles written in scorn of them, or the daily -table-talk, wide of the mark, of the English Pale. Yet, according to -his opportunity, he loved the country and the people, and deplored that -the descendants of a race of mediæval scholars should be cut off from -education. Afterwards he felt that his rather helter-skelter pamphlet -represented limited knowledge and unformed opinion; he speaks of it as -“premature,” and wished, when he lost the manuscript, that it might -perish rather than reach the public as it was. It bore a dedication -to the Earl of Leicester, his “singular good lord,” in the hope that -it might “make his travel seem neither causeless nor fruitless,” or, -as he says again in plainer language: “I render you my poor book as -an account of my voyage.” It was first printed, without supervision -from the author, in a very muddled, unsatisfactory way, by Raphael -Holinshed in 1577; then in more scholarly fashion by Sir James Ware, -in his _Ancient Irish Histories_, 1633. We all remember how useful -Holinshed’s pages were to Shakespeare: the twenty lines or so of the -famous description of Wolsey in Act IV, Scene 2, of _Henry VIII_, is -taken almost word for word from what Campion had written, and Holinshed -had incorporated in his _Chronicles_. - -Nowhere in this little book, begun and broken off at Turvey House, and -purposely non-committal in its religious expressions, is there any sign -that its author had already, as some have thought, returned to the -Church. For Parsons, his earliest biographer, whose facts concerning -these years were supplied by Richard Stanihurst, says of Campion that -his purity and devoutness in Ireland were marked, although he was not -in the Church. Fr. Pollen, summing up the evidence of these written -pages, considers Campion “near to the Church, but distinctly avoiding a -confession of faith.” - -Chancellor Weston, a zealot of the most pronounced Protestant type, -made a livelier pursuit after having been baffled by Campion’s escape -from Dublin. The latter found himself quite unable to lead any sort of -orderly life, thanks to the restless hue and cry after him; and one -day he recognized with a shock of horror the penalties to which he was -exposing the generous friends, so far unmolested, who were giving him -shelter. His conscience would not allow him to come out with a flat -denial of Catholic tenets or sympathies. His only alternative, after a -half-year in Ireland, was flight homeward. Here once more he was aided -(though they were in great sorrow at his decision) by his Anglo-Irish -friends, those “dear friends which ever after he loved most entirely, -and they him.” - -Richard Stanihurst, as private tutor to the children of the Earl of -Kildare, had acquaintance with the Earl’s steward, Melchior Hussey. -This man (a character by no means admirable) was about to embark at -Drogheda for a visit to England, and it was arranged that Campion -should be disguised to pass as his Irish servant. Thus, in the month -of May, putting himself under the special patronage of the national -Saint, and adopting his name, Campion boarded the ship as “Mr. -Patrick.” Officers of the law promptly appeared on the track of the -quasi-Papist, delaying the weighing of the anchor, annoying the crew, -upsetting the cargo, and questioning every passenger on deck except the -harmless-looking person who stood “in a lackey’s weed” behind Hussey. -Edmund Campion was a born actor. He put on and kept up a highly stupid -expression, while he was praying with might and main for St. Patrick’s -intercession in his great danger! He had cause to thank his new patron -in Heaven, although the party of searchers swooped upon his bags -below deck, and carried off with them the rough draft of his precious -manuscript, that _History of Ireland_ which he was to see no more for -many a year. - -The early summer of 1571 was ill-starred. Various startling events -had conjoined like tidal waves to lift the misbehaving English -Government up to its highest pitch of alarm. Chief of these was the -Bull of Deposition against Queen Elizabeth, issued by the Holy See -after consultation with many temperate English advisers. John Felton, -a gentleman of Southwark, posted a copy of it upon the palace gates -of the Bishop of London, on the morning of May 25, the Feast of -Corpus Christi: by August he was to pay for the bold act with his -life. The Queen of Scots had newly arrived in England. London, by the -time Campion reached it, was in a ferment. “Nothing was to be found -there but fears, suspicions, arrestings, condemnations, tortures, -executions.... The Queen and Council were so troubled that they could -not tell whom to trust, and so fell to rigorous proceedings against -all, but especially against Catholics, whom they most feared; so that -Campion could not tell where to rest in England, all men being in fear -and jealousy one of another.” - -Campion had not broken his old bonds, yet nothing interested him so -powerfully as the things of religion. The love of God was lying in wait -for him, and forced his hand. Of all possible places in London where -he might have gone on the 26th or 27th of May, he chose Westminster -Hall, in order to attend the trial of Dr. John Storey, former -Principal of Broadgates Hall (Pembroke College) in Oxford, and that -University’s first Regius Professor of Civil Law. Dr. Storey was very -feeble for his years, which were sixty-seven. By a wretched breach of -international law he had been trapped at Antwerp, carried away from -his wife and family to England, and arraigned for having “feloniously -and traitorously comforted Richard Norton,” his own friend, the old -hero of the Pilgrimage of Grace. But the real cause of his arrest and -execution was a much larger matter. He was a troublesomely consistent -person. He had spoken out in the House of Commons against the new -Liturgy in the first Parliament of Edward VI, and against the Supremacy -Bill in the first Parliament of Queen Elizabeth. He had been an -Ecclesiastical Commissioner under Queen Mary. Foxe, in the famous _Book -of Martyrs_, lies in the most reckless way about Storey’s part in those -sordid bygone persecutions, and Holinshed and Strype and many another -historian repeat Foxe. - -Storey was an honourable and even merciful man, but a man of his time. -People were much of a piece in the sixteenth century when it came to -holding to the grindstone the nose of the unwilling! There is this to -be said, however: that the Marian courts dealt out death to heretics -and malcontents, and candidly stopped there, and were not inspired -to any cruelty more subtle; whereas Good Queen Bess not only dealt -out death very much more liberally, but invented a poison for all the -springs of life. Her statutes, terribly oppressive from the first, -ended in what Burke calls the most hateful code framed since the world -began: Penal Laws which, especially from 1585 on, struck without -mercy at Catholics in their rights of worship, property, inheritance, -education, travel, professions, public service and private liberties -of every kind. Another point to be noted in passing is that Queen Mary -persecuted her subjects for changing their religion. Her more ingenious -sister persecuted them for not changing it! Historians have not dwelt -much upon the difference, but to a reader with some philosophy in him -it will have no little weight. - -Dr. Storey was executed five days after his trial, under even more -horrible circumstances than were usual. Edmund Campion had then -left England, after an exceedingly short stay. His standing watch -in Westminster Hall had done more for him than many arguments and -exhortations: it kindled a spark in him which made him, in Lord -Falkland’s phrase, “ready for the utmost hazard of war.” There was a -cause to which he could run home; there was a vocation to which he -could climb: these opened out before him as he stood in the surging -indoor crowd. “He was animated by that blessed man’s example,” says -Parsons, “to any danger and peril for the same faith for which the -Doctor died.” Edmund Campion lost no time. There had been enough of -that sad old game, and he was thirty-one years old, with three quarters -of his too brief life behind him. Now he was awake, and had touched, in -the dark, his heart’s long-patient Master. He set out at once for the -nearest stronghold of apostolic souls, the English Seminary at Douay in -Belgium. - - - - -IV - -CHEYNEY AGAIN: DOUAY: 1571 - - -INTERRUPTED sea-voyages were his fate. This time, half-way across the -Channel, his ship was hailed by a Government frigate, _The Hare_, which -demanded to be shown the ship’s sailing papers, and the passports -of her passengers. Campion had none. Moreover, as his religion was -suspected, the dutiful Protestant frigate, homeward bound, promptly -swallowed him, bag and baggage. His generous friends in Ireland had -forced upon him money for his needs, and the captain who now kidnapped -him found it convenient to keep the money, but kind-heartedly let his -prisoner lose himself in the streets of Dover. Other friends quickly -made the losses good. On Campion’s second attempt to reach Calais -all went well. He did not lack his secular epitaph, so to speak, -at Court. It was not then a legal crime, though it soon became so, -for a Catholic Englishman to leave the country fast being made into -a hell for him. The mighty Cecil treated this expatriation as quite -voluntary. “And it is a very great pity,” he chose to say, looking into -Richard Stanihurst’s gratified eyes, “for Master Campion was one of the -diamonds of England.” - -The date of Campion’s reconciliation to the Church is unknown. It seems -unlikely to have taken place in Ireland. He may have been absolved -from his schism in London, or else as soon as he had reached Douay. -There was a busy trade in wool still flourishing at that time between -Flanders and England, and in the thrifty, kindly towns of the exporting -country refugees formed a considerable part of the population. Douay, -properly speaking, Douai, was called “Doway” by its foster-children. -The creation of its English Seminary was a master-stroke of Dr. William -Allen, Canon of York, afterwards Cardinal, once of Oriel College, -Oxford, and Principal of St. Mary Hall. Indeed, “Oxford may be said -to have founded Douay.” Allen was aided by many men of mark, notably -by his old tutor, Morgan Phillipps, and by the latter’s bequeathed -funds; also by the Flemish Abbots and layfolk. Campion seems to have -been the eighteenth arrival in the newly established house of young, -prayerful, enthusiastic men. He found there as Professor of Hebrew, -his beloved Gregory Martin, and a learned colleague, Richard Bristow, -late Fellow of Exeter College, the first of the Seminarian priests -to be ordained: two props and pillars of the foundation. There also -was Thomas Stapleton, late Fellow of New College, the most able -Catholic controversialist of the age. Five of the twenty English -students enrolled in 1571, joined the Society of Jesus. The College, -destined to speedy and splendid development, was affiliated to the -Douay University, established some eight years before it by Spanish -munificence and a Papal Bull. Here, then, Edmund Campion came into his -soul’s haven, “out of the swing of the sea.” - -It was Dr. Allen’s missionary policy that all his sons, before memory -of them had grown dim at home, should write to their more undecided -friends in England, doing what they could to win them to the service -of Christ in the Church Catholic. Campion sent a very long document -to this end to his venerated and now ageing friend, Bishop Cheyney: -a wonderful letter, in that live Elizabethan English, which was bold -as surgery itself, yet charged with feeling. Associating his beliefs -with Cheyney’s as the writer does, he helps us to understand his own -doctrinal position while in Oxford and in Dublin. He failed in both -places, writes Fr. Morris, for the same reason: “the position was a -false one, for it was an effort to serve two masters, and to live like -a Catholic and teach the Catholic religion outside the pale of the -Catholic Church.” “There is no end or measure,” he now tells Cheyney -from Douay, “to my thinking of you; and I never think of you without -being horribly ashamed.... So often was I with you at Gloucester, so -often in your private chamber, with no one near us, when I could -have done this business, and I did it not!” By “this business” he -means confessing Catholic truth, and urging Cheyney to return to it. -“And what is worse, I have added flames to the fever by assenting and -assisting. And although you were superior to me, in your counterfeited -dignity, in wealth, age and learning, and though I was not bound to -look after the physicking or dieting of your soul, yet, since you were -of so easy and sweet a temper as in spite of your grey hairs to admit -me, young as I was, to familiar intercourse with you, to say whatever -I chose, in all security and secrecy, while you imparted to me your -sorrows and all the calumnies of the other heretics against you; and -since like a father you exhorted me to walk straight and upright in -the royal road, to follow the steps of the Church, the Councils, and -the Fathers, and to believe that where there was a consensus of these -there could be no spot of falsehood; I am very angry with myself that -I neglected to use such a beautiful opportunity of recommending the -Faith: that through false modesty or culpable negligence, I did not -address with boldness one who was so near to the Kingdom of God. But -as I have no longer the occasion that I had of persuading you face -to face, it remains that I should send my words to you to witness my -regard, my care, my anxiety for you, known to Him to whom I make my -daily prayer for your salvation. Listen, I beseech you, listen to a -few words. You are sixty years old, more or less” (Cheyney was really -sixty-eight), “of uncertain health, of weakened body; the hatred of -heretics, the pity of Catholics, the talk of the people, the sorrow -of your friends, the joke of your enemies. Who do you think yourself -to be? What do you expect? What is your life? Wherein lies your hope? -In the heretics hating you so implacably and abusing you so roundly? -Because of all heresiarchs you are the least crazy? Because you confess -the Living Presence of Christ on the Altar, and the freedom of man’s -will? Because you persecute no Catholics in your diocese? Because -you are hospitable to your townspeople, and to good men? Because you -plunder not your palace and lands, as your brethren do? Surely these -things will avail much, if you return to the bosom of the Church, if -you suffer even the smallest persecution in common with those of the -Household of Faith, or join your prayers with theirs. But now, whilst -you are a stranger and an enemy, whilst, like a base deserter, you -fight under an alien flag, it is in vain to attempt to cover your -crimes with the cloak of virtues.... What is the use of fighting for -many articles of the Faith, and to perish for doubting of a few?... He -believes no one article of the Faith who refuses to believe any single -one. In vain do you defend the religion of Catholics, if you hug only -that which you like, and cut off all that seems not right in your -eyes. There is but one plain, known road: not enclosed by your palings -or mine, not by private judgment, but by the severe laws of humility -and obedience: when you wander from these you are lost. You must be -altogether within the house of God, within the walls of salvation, to -be sound and safe from all injury; if you wander and walk abroad ever -so little, if you carelessly thrust hand or foot out of the ship, if -you stir up ever so small a mutiny in the crew, you shall be thrust -forth: the door is shut, the ocean roars: you are undone!... Do you -remember the sober and solemn answer which you gave me when three years -ago we met in the house of Thomas Dutton at Shireburn, where we were to -dine? We were talking of St. Cyprian. I objected to you (in order to -discover your real opinions) that Synod of Carthage which erred about -the baptism of infants. You answered truly that the Holy Spirit was -not promised to one Province, but to the Church; that the Universal -Church is represented in a full Council; and that no doctrine can be -pointed out about which such a Council ever erred. Acknowledge your own -weapons, which you used against the adversaries of the Mystery of the -Eucharist!... Here you have the most ... apostolic men collected at -Trent ... to contend for the ancient faith of the Fathers! All these, -whilst you live as you are living, anathematize you, hiss you out, -excommunicate you, abjure you.” Campion goes on to urge upon Cheyney -an outward adherence to the Council which had discussed and resolved -his own private beliefs. “Especially now you have declared war against -your colleagues, why do you not make full submission, without any -exceptions, to the discipline of these Fathers?... Once more, consult -your own heart, my poor old friend! give me back your old beauty, and -those excellent gifts which have been hitherto smothered in the mud -of dishonesty. Give yourself to your Mother who begot you to Christ, -nourished you, consecrated you; acknowledge how cruel and undutiful -you have been: let confession be the salve of your sin.... Be merciful -to your soul; spare my grief. Your ship is wrecked, your merchandise -lost: nevertheless, seize the plank of penance, and come even naked -into the port of the Church. Fear not but that Christ will preserve -you with His hand, run to meet you, kiss you, and put on you the white -garment: Saints and Angels will sing for joy! Take no thought for your -life: He will take thought for you who gives the beasts their food, -and feeds the young ravens that call upon Him. If you but made trial -of our banishment, if you but cleared your conscience, and came to -behold and consider the living examples of piety which are shown here -by Bishops, priests, friars, Masters of Colleges, rulers of Provinces, -lay people of every age, rank and sex, I believe that you would give up -six hundred Englands for the opportunity of redeeming the residue of -your time by tears and sorrow.... Pardon me, my venerated old friend, -for these just reproaches, and for the heat of my love. Suffer me to -hate that deadly disease; let me ward off the imminent danger of so -noble a man and so dear a friend with any dose, however bitter. And now -if Christ give grace and you do not refuse, my hopes of you are equal -to my love: and I love you as passing excellent in nature, in learning, -in gentleness, in goodness, and as doubly dear to me for your many -kindnesses and courtesies. If you recover your [spiritual] health, you -make me happy for ever. If you slight me, this letter is my witness. -God judge between you and me: your blood be on yourself! Farewell, from -him that most desires your salvation.” - -One phrase in this steel web of phrases from the pen of a rhetorician -with a heart, shows that Campion knew of Cheyney’s sad and now -complicated position in England. The letter was written November 1, -1571. A Convocation had met in the preceding April, on the heels of the -Act of Uniformity, to which Cheyney was summoned in vain. It required -the signing of the Thirty-nine Articles, and enacted, under Archbishop -Grindal’s leadership, many things equally hateful to Cheyney, such as -displacement and defacement of Altar-stones—(a great symbol, this, -and no mere act of pillage!), the abolition of Prayers for the Dead, -the prohibition even of the Sign of the Cross in church. Cheyney, -excommunicated for his wilful absence, afterwards sued by proxy for -absolution, for the sake of averting temporal penalties: but he had -nothing more to do with the hierarchy. “Now you have declared war -against your colleagues,” shows that Campion had heard accurate news of -all this. - -The moment may have seemed to Campion exactly favourable for such -a strong appeal. One of Cheyney’s successors in his See declared: -“It was certain he died a Papist.” This was contradicted by a lesser -authority, but yet a good one. If it were indeed “certain”, at least -Edmund Campion, to whom the tidings would have been most consoling, -never knew of it. It seems as if Cheyney could not have answered that -bugle-call of a letter. He is said, however, to have kept it always, -and to have called it his greatest treasure. - -How these many cries of “the heat of my love” must have haunted his -ear! It is hardly in human nature to value such a document at all (and -there are passages in it more ruthless, after the manner of the time, -than any we have quoted), unless for the reflex reason that it does its -intended work in the heart of the receiver. To have valued it either -as a piece of literary cleverness, or as a monument of misdirected -concern, would have been equally cynical, and clean contrary to -Cheyney’s known attitude towards his friend. He did not live to see -Campion return to England. Shunning the bigots and the unprincipled men -in power to the last, and sheltering the Catholics all he could, he -shut himself up at Gloucester, a whole High Church party in himself, -wounded and at bay: and there in 1579 he died, and was buried in the -glorious Cathedral, without an epitaph. The dream of his lifetime, as -well as Edmund Campion’s sonship, he had loved and lost. - - - - -V - -THE CALL TO COME UP HIGHER: DOUAY, PRAGUE: 1571-1573 - - -IN Allen’s _Apology for Seminaries_ there is a beautiful account of the -ideals of Douay. “The first thought of the founders of the College had -been to attract the young English exiles who were living in Flanders -from their solitary and self-guided study to a more exact method and -to collegiate obedience; and their next, to provide for the rising -generation in England a succession of learned Catholics, especially of -clergy, to take the place of those removed by old age, imprisonment, -and persecution. Their design then was to draw together out of -England the ‘best wits’ from the following classes; those inclined to -Catholicism; those who desired a more exact education than could be -then obtained at Oxford or Cambridge, ‘where no art, holy or profane, -was thoroughly studied, and some not touched at all;’ those who were -scrupulous about taking the Oath of the Queen’s supremacy; those who -disliked to be forced, as they were in some Colleges of the English -Universities, to enter the ministry; ... and those who were doubtful -which religion was the true one, and were disgusted that they were -forced into one without being allowed opportunity of inquiring into the -other.” The spirit of Douay was not reactionary, but the best spirit -of the English Renaissance. It had, besides, a character or atmosphere -holy and bright, not formed by mere human culture: it was as “a garden -enclosed, and a fountain sealed.” Campion found there a peace such -as he had never known. He had already, at Oxford, given seven years -to philosophy, and six more to Aristotle, positive theology, and the -Fathers. The study of scholastic theology was dead in Oxford: Campion -now first took up the teachings of St. Thomas Aquinas. He arrived in -June, and in August he bought a noble edition of the _Summa_ for his -own use, in three volumes folio. This was discovered in 1887 by Canon -Didiot of Lille, and it is now at the Roehampton Noviciate. Several -features make it a particularly interesting relic: Campion’s signature, -with the date of his purchase, on the flyleaf; various beautifully -executed little drawings, underlinings, and a host of marginal notes -in Latin. By far the most touching of these relates to what St. Thomas -quotes from Gennadius on the baptism of blood. Blessed Edmund Campion -wrote in a tall, bold hand, over against this passage, the one musing -word, “Martyrdom.” Canon Didiot, with that intimate touch of French -sympathy, calls it “_mot radieux et prophétique_.” - -For nearly two years Campion followed the course of scholastic -theology, taking his degree of Bachelor in January, 1573. He then -received Minor Orders, and was ordained Sub-deacon. All went happily -for him at Douay. He was again at his old work, and, as ever, he won -the highest opinions from those among whom he moved. In his Oxford -days he had always held lofty standards before his pupils: “never -to deliquesce into sloth, nor to dance away your time, nor to live -for rioting and pleasure ... but to give yourselves up to virtue and -learning, and to reckon this the one, great, glorious and royal road.” -But the feeling in the exhortations of his later life is tenfold -deeper, and strikes a far more haunting note of duty towards England, -and towards the Church. This is a passage from the revised _De Juvene -Academico_, which had first been sketched out years before in Dublin. -“Listen to our Heavenly Father asking back his talents with usury!... -Behold, by the wickedness of the wicked the house of God is devoted -to flames and to destruction; numberless souls are being deceived, -are being shaken, are being lost, any one of which is worth more than -the empire of the whole world.... Sleep not while the Enemy watches; -play not while he devours his prey; sink not into idleness and folly -while his fangs are wet with your brothers’ blood. It is not wealth nor -liberty nor station, but the eternal inheritance of each of us, the -very life-blood of our souls, our spirits, and our lives, that suffers. -See, then, my dearest young scholars and friends, that we lose none of -this precious time, but carry hence a plentiful and rich crop, enough -to supply the public want, and to gain for ourselves the reward of -dutiful sons.” One of those who listened to these words was destined to -become the proto-martyr of the English Continental Seminaries: Cuthbert -Mayne, a dear pupil of Campion’s, who as a Devon lad had come up to -Oxford and St. John’s, had first conformed to the new regulations, -and served as College Chaplain, then awakened from his delusion, and -fled over seas for conscience’ sake, “not to escape danger, but to be -prepared for it,” in response to one of Campion’s burning letters. This -letter was intercepted, but its purport had reached him, and decided -him. - -In the spring of 1573, Campion found himself driven to a course he -had not contemplated on coming to Douay. As he slowly saw his way, he -followed it, to horizon beyond horizon. He had many steps to take, -because in his thirst for perfection he had far to travel. He told -Dr. Allen he wished to leave his present life, go on pilgrimage, in -the spirit of penance, to the Tomb of the Apostles at Rome, and there -seek admission into the Society of Jesus. The mediæval Orders would -have less attraction for Campion: he was an intensely “modern” man. -Now this was a severe blow to Allen: hardly less so to others of -Campion’s circle. Campion, the pride, the example, the hope of the -Seminary, to quit it for good, and to quit it in order to join the -most recent of religious communities—one which as yet had few English -members! It was inexplicable. But Allen, like the great-hearted and -broad-minded commander-in-chief he was, let him go without protest. He -little foresaw that far from losing his most promising champion, he was -but lending him to better masters of the interior life than himself, -and would receive his trained strength again in the English Mission’s -spiritual day of battle. - -Campion set out on foot across the Continent for Rome, along that road -“trodden by many a Saxon king and English saint, to the Apostles’ -shrine.” His companions walked with him all the first day; but the next -morning he sent them back, and pushed on alone. Solitude was henceforth -his choice, whenever duty permitted. He must have had many strange -adventures during that spring journey. We know of one of them, though -not from him. At some point of the route, probably on the northern -Italian border, he came face to face with an old friend, an Oxonian, -and a Protestant. The horseman first rode past the poor mendicant on -the highway, and then was prompted by some dim sense of recognition -to return and speak to him. On realizing that it was really Edmund -Campion whom he used to know “in great pomp of prosperity,” he showed -much concern, proffered his good-will and his purse, and begged to hear -how Campion had fallen into that ill plight. But the pilgrim refused -aid; and the other traveller heard something then and there of the -“contempt of this world, and the eminent dignity of serving Christ in -poverty,” which greatly moved him: and “us also,” adds Robert Parsons -of Balliol, “that remained yet in Oxford, when the report came to our -ears.” A strange tale it must have seemed to those who knew their -Master of Arts and all his old fastidiousness! He was by now a saint -in the making, and they were fast losing touch with him. Personal -holiness is, so to speak, a mining country: its progress and its wealth -are underground, unguessed-at by the careless passer-by. A saint is a -mystery because he walks so closely in the shadow of God, who is the -Great Mystery. - -When Campion reached Rome, and had paid his devotions to the holy -places, he went to call upon Cardinal Gesualdi, who, as he stated -afterwards, “having some liking of me, would have been the means to -prefer me ... but I, resolved what course to take, answered that I -meant not to serve any man, but to enter into the Society of Jesus, -thereof to vow and to be professed.” With this intention, Campion -sought out the newly-elected head of that Society, Father Everard of -Liège, whose surname was generally Latinized into Mercurianus, from -Mercœur, his native village. He was fourth in his office, having -succeeded that great personality St. Francis Borgia, on St. George’s -Day, April 23, 1573. Biographers have represented that Campion had a -half-year’s delay in Rome before he was able to apply for admission to -the Society; but such was not the case. He promptly presented himself, -and was received as Mercœur’s first recruit, and received not as a -postulant, but as a novice. As Anthony Wood tells us, “he was esteemed -by the General of that Order to be a person every way complete.” Four -years later, Campion most affectionately thanked his own old tutor, -John Bavand, for unasked “introductions, help and money,” which had -been supplied since he came to Rome. He speaks of himself as “one whom -you knew never could repay you, but who was at the point, so to speak, -of death.... You were munificent to me when I was going to enter the -sepulchral rest of religion.” The aid he would not accept for himself -on his journey from one friend, he had accepted in the city (and spent, -no doubt, in almsgiving) from another. Perhaps Bavand was abroad, -and heard of that incident which came to pass on the road: certainly, -he was one from whom Campion could not in chivalry refuse whatever he -chose to share with him. - -The Society of Jesus had been founded only six years before Campion -was born. It had as yet no English “Province,” that is, no members -living under the English flag with a domestic government of their -own. But Edmund Campion was already well known to the Provincials on -the Continent, who had a warm contest over him, every one of them -wishing to add such a promising soldier to his own wing of the army -of the Lord. As it fell out, Bohemia won. Campion was sent as one -of a company to Vienna, and then from Vienna to Prague, where the -Noviciate was, with Father Avellanedo, Confessor to the Empress, a man -of wide experience. He was so deeply edified by his companion that, -he told Fr. Parsons long after, it had kept him all his life “much -affectioned” towards England and Englishmen. Prague was in a miserable, -godless state: the Catholics were poor and few: the great University -had perished: and all this was due to the ruin, moral and material, -produced by the preaching, at the dawn of the fifteenth century, of -John Hus. That Hus got his Socialistic ideas from Wyclif was a fact -never out of Campion’s mind while in Bohemia: for he thought that -England owed some reparation to a country which she had helped to -spoil, and he was more than willing to pay his part of that debt. - - - - -VI - -THE WISHED-FOR DAWN: BOHEMIA: 1573-1579 - - -CAMPION stayed but two months at Prague, as the small Noviciate was -removed to Brünn in Moravia, where the inhabitants were most hostile -to Catholicism. The Bishop of Olmütz begged the Jesuits to help him -so far as their Rule permitted. Novices were sent out among the -neighbouring villages, to catechize and instruct the poorer Catholics; -and no one had so instant a success in this little enterprise as “God’s -Englishman.” At the year’s end his Novice Master, John Paul Campanus, -became Rector of the College in Prague, and took Edmund Campion back -with him. The latter left a good deal of his heart within the gray and -austere walls of Brünn, as two of his charming letters show. In the old -garden, under a mulberry tree, he had had a wonderful vision: Our Lady -stood there, smiling at him, and offering him a purple robe. He knew -the portent of martyrdom, but for long hid it in his heart. At Prague -Campion continued and increased his Douay employments. He opened the -October term with what was called a “glorious peroration”. As Professor -of Rhetoric, he wrote, in 1574, a beautiful little treatise on that -subject so familiar to him. His duty was to be first in the house to -rise and last to go to bed; he spent his recreation-time catechizing -children, receiving converts, visiting the prison and the hospital, -or helping the cook in the kitchen! In January, 1575, he set up at -his College a branch Confraternity of the Immaculate Conception, or -Sodality of Our Lady, of which he became president. About the same -time he made his first vows. He was continually called upon for great -College occasions, and to pronounce public panegyrics. “Whatever had -to be done,” says his pompous but sympathetic biographer Bombino, “was -laid upon him.” On getting a fresh task he would ask his Superior, -in a spirit of perfect humility and confidence, if he was thought -strong enough to add that to the rest? and if the answer were Yes, he -shouldered the new duty at once, much to the wonder of others. “I am -in a continual bloom of health,” he writes gallantly to his “dearest -Parsons,” who had just entered the Society; “I have no time whatever -to be ill in!” Two sacred plays (six hours did it take to perform each -of them!) came from Campion’s truly dramatic pen in 1577. One was on -the Sacrifice of Abraham; one on the melancholy career of King Saul. It -is a matter of much regret that these are lost. He seems also to have -composed dialogues and scenes for his own scholars, and to have put -together at this same time his spirited account of the origin of the -English schism, in a narrative (in Latin) of _The Divorce of King Henry -VIII from his Wife and from the Church_. It was printed by Harpesfield, -long after Campion’s death. - -Meanwhile Rudolph II had succeeded to the imperial throne; and the -“magnificently provided” Envoy who was sent to Prague, bearing the -congratulations of Queen Elizabeth, was none other than Sir Philip -Sidney. Sidney’s mind was set upon seeing his old friend Campion, -and talking with him; but he managed only with difficulty to carry -out his wishes. He went officially in the Emperor’s train to hear -his friend (not yet in priest’s orders) preach, and on his return -to England unguardedly spoke with delight of the sermon. Whenever -Sidney visited the Continent he was supposed to become tainted with a -hankering after Catholicism, though in all his public actions he was -conspicuously Protestant. Campion, who knew him from boyhood and was -not given to misjudgment, believed that he had almost won over the -star of English chivalry: “this young man so wonderfully beloved and -admired,” he calls him in 1576; a testimony doubly interesting, when -we remember that Philip Sidney was then but three-and-twenty, to the -effect which his short life made upon all his contemporaries. “He had -much conversation with me,” Campion’s letter goes on, “and I hope not -in vain, for to all appearances he was most keen about it. I commend -him to your remembrances at Mass, since he asked the prayers of all -good men, and at the same time put into my hands alms to be distributed -to the poor for him; this trust I have discharged.” He ends by hoping -that some of the missionaries then going back to England from Douay -will have “opportunity of watering this plant ... poor wavering soul!” -Fr. Parsons in his _Life of Campion_ tells us that Sidney “professed -himself convinced, but said that it was necessary for him to hold on -the course which he had hitherto followed.” Such was the sad answer of -Felix to St. Paul. - -Campion’s thoughts had turned often of late to another friend, Gregory -Martin, who had left overcrowded Douay for the Seminary newly founded -in the heart of Rome, in the ancient English hospice for pilgrims. -Campion longed to turn his fellow-priest into a Jesuit, for he loved -his own Society in the extreme; but that was not to be. A letter to -Martin, glowing with that interior fire which was shed out from Edmund -Campion upon everything he touched, ends most tenderly. “Since for so -many years we two had in common our College, our meals, our studies, -our friends and our enemies, let us for the rest of our lives make -a more close and binding union, that we may have the fruit of our -friendship in heaven. For there also I will, if I can, sit at your -feet.” - -After years filled with literary and academic labour in two Colleges, -and blessed with marked growth in holiness, Edmund Campion was ordained -priest by the Archbishop of Prague. His first Mass was said on the -Feast of the Nativity of Our Lady, September 8, 1578. Following his -General’s express command, he dismissed the old unhappy scruple -about his Oxford diaconate, and it troubled him no more. He was made -Professor of Philosophy. “You are to know,” he pleasantly says, “that -I am foolishly held to be an accomplished sophist!” During the course -of this year 1578, he wrote his last and most famous drama, now lost, -on St. Ambrose and the Emperor Theodosius, which, when acted, made -a tremendous stir. He became ever more and more noted as a preacher, -a “sower of eternity” in the popular heart, as well as the favourite -orator when grandees died and were buried in state. But all this time -his mind and heart were far away. - -No one ever practised religious obedience in a more heroic spirit; yet -he secretly longed to throw his life and his labours directly into the -balance for England’s sake. He knew what was going on there, and his -thoughts seem never once to have turned towards pikes, or any political -remedy; his whole ambition was, as he said in one letter, to “torture -our envious foe with good deeds,” and in another, “to catch them by -the prayers and tears at which they laugh.” His long-dear Cuthbert -Mayne, of whom he had lost sight for awhile, had given up his life for -the Faith at Launceston, November 29, 1577. He had been captured near -Probus; his wealthy host, Francis Tregian, was attainted of præmunire, -and his children completely beggared. This young Westcountryman had -a character all his own. He had been charged with nothing but the -exercise of his priestly functions, and was offered his life, on the -day of his execution, if he would but swear that the Queen was Supreme -Head of the Church of England. “Upon this,” continues the chronicle, -“he took the Bible into his hands, made the sign of the Cross upon -it, kissed it, and said: ‘The Queen neither ever was, nor is, nor -ever shall be, the Head of the Church of England!’” Campion had only -recently heard the news in the August of 1579. One can read between the -lines of a passage like this: “We all thank you much for your account -of Cuthbert’s martyrdom; it gave many of us a divine pleasure. Wretch -that I am, how far has that novice distanced me! May he be favourable -to his old friend and tutor! Now shall I boast of these titles more -than ever before.” Within the next six months Edmund Campion was to see -the beginning of his heart’s desire. - -Dr. Allen, the founder of Douay, was in Rome to organize the English -College; and there he brought all his persuasion to bear upon the -General of the Society of Jesus and his consultors, that the English -Jesuits might be allowed to join the English secular priests in the -pressing redemption of their distracted country. There were the gravest -reasons for and against the proposal, but the answer given to Dr. -Allen was that the Society would do its best to supply missioners -thenceforward, and that Robert Parsons and Edmund Campion should be -sent first as forerunners of the rest. Allen was naturally overjoyed. -While Mercœur, the Father-General, wrote officially to Campion’s -Superior at Prague, Allen wrote a moving letter to Campion himself: -“My father, brother, son,” he calls him, “make all haste and come, -my dearest Campion ... from Prague to Rome, and thence to our own -England.” ... “God, in whose hands are the issues, has at last granted -that our own Campion, with his extraordinary gifts of wisdom and grace, -shall be restored to us. Prepare yourself, then, for a journey, for a -work, for a trial.” - -The imaginations of Campion’s comrades at Prague were touched to the -quick by the prospect opening before their happy brother. One of these -bore witness to the fragrance of his own thoughts by painting a garland -of roses and lilies on the wall of Campion’s little room, just at -the bed’s head. A white-haired Silesian, Father James Gall, wrote in -scroll fashion, by night, over the outer door of that same little room: -“P[ater] Edmundus Campianus, Martyr.” For such a romantic irregularity -the old saint was reprimanded. He replied quite simply: “But I had to -do it!” Poor Campion, who was shy, had seen both these things, before -Campanus, the sympathetic Rector, gave him his marching orders to start -at once for Rome. “The Fathers do verily seem to suspect something -about me; I hope their suspicions may come true!” he said. “God’s will -be done, not mine.” And then, adds that first English biographer who -so well knew him and so much loved him: “Being scarce able to hold -tears for joy and tenderness of heart, he went to his chamber, and -there upon his knees to God satisfied his appetite of weeping and -thanksgiving, and offered himself to His divine disposition without any -exception or restraint: whether it were to rack, cross-quartering, or -any other torment or death whatsoever.” - - - - -VII - -A LONG MARCH: ROME, GENEVA, RHEIMS: 1580 - - -FROM Prague to Munich, and from Munich to Innsbrück, Campion had the -distinguished and very friendly company of Ferdinand, brother of the -reigning Duke of Bavaria. Afterwards he went on alone on foot, as he -was always glad to do, as far as Padua. Here he took horse for Rome, -which he reached just before Palm Sunday, April 5, 1580, coming “in -grave priest’s garb,” we are told, “with long hair, after the fashion -of Germany.” He was informed by the Father-General that he was to start -for England nine or ten days after Easter. Campion begged “neither -to be Superior of the expedition nor to have anything to do with -the preparations,” and that during the fortnight he might be free -from all except necessary cares, in order to make a more devotional -entrance upon the life ahead of him. “And the like did, for their part, -and had done, all the Lent before, those other priests also of the -English Seminary,” says Parsons, speaking of many seculars afterwards -martyred, “that were appointed by their Superiors to go with us in this -mission.... All these together used such notable and extraordinary -diligence for preparing themselves well in the sight of God ... as was -matter of edification to all Rome.” - -Rome was a most religious place at that time, not only in its enduring -associations, but in the temper of the people. One in large measure -responsible for its spirit of penance and prayer, and loving charity -to the poor, was then living at San Girolamo, opposite the old English -hospital, now turned into a College: this was St. Philip Neri, the -most venerated and endearing figure in all the great city. He knew -the successive little English bands; when he passed them in the -streets, cheerful St. Philip used to smile tenderly, and give what must -have been to them a thrilling greeting: “‘Hail, Little Flowers of -Martyrdom!’” the opening line of the Breviary Hymn for Holy Innocents’ -Day. Parsons and Campion, and the secular clerics associated with them, -may have originated the custom of going over to San Girolamo for a -special fatherly blessing before setting forth to almost certain death. -There is a tradition (mentioned by Newman) that one of that company did -not care to seek St. Philip’s prayers, and that afterwards he failed -to persevere. This is thought to be the lay student, John Paschall, or -Pascal, who was apparently of an unstable disposition, and is known to -have forsworn the Faith, when his great chance came to profess it. - -The Pope, Gregory XIII, showed untiring and fatherly interest in all -the missionaries, and their travelling funds were his personal gift. -He wept over them in bestowing his parting benediction. Campion set -out this time with seven English priests, Ralph Sherwin, a former -Fellow of Exeter College, among them; also with two lay brothers, and -two students. Others joined them from Rheims and Louvain, some of -them advanced in years and well known. The party adopted the novel and -almost daredevil fashion of going on foot; but, mounted and riding -privately in advance of it, were its two eldest members. One was the -holy octogenarian Thomas Goldwell, the Lord Bishop of St. Asaph, who -had been offered by Queen Mary a transfer to the See of Oxford, and -refused it. He was destined to be the last survivor of the deposed and -scattered Catholic hierarchy in England, who had all but one refused -the unheard-of Oath in 1559, and had all been deprived of their Sees -that same year. Bishop Goldwell now, twenty years afterwards, was one -of two who were living; and his colleague, Watson, Bishop of Lincoln, -was in prison. The other senior missionary was his companion, Dr. -Nicholas Morton, Canon Penitentiary of St. Peter’s, who had done -something already towards the making of English history. The first -little Jesuit group of three was commanded by Fr. Robert Parsons, a -born organizer, a man of splendid resources, afterwards celebrated, -and much loved and hated. For convenience, as for safety, they all -put on secular dress. Campion, however, would buy no new clothes, but -arrayed himself in an old buckram suit, with a shabby cloak. When -rallied on his highly inelegant appearance, he remarked with the gay -spirit so like that of another “blissful martyr,” Sir Thomas More, that -a man going forth to be hanged need trouble himself little about the -fashion! - -The roads were bad beyond any modern idea of badness, and it poured -rain for the first nine or ten days. Campion, the least robust of -the party, and the most poorly clad, fell ill under such combined -discomforts, and while crossing the Apennines had to be lifted into -the saddle of one of the very few horses which had been brought along -for the sake of the infirm. As soon as he was well enough he resumed -his daily habit of saying Mass very early, and of walking on, in the -later morning hours, till he was a mile ahead of the rest, to make his -meditation, read his Office, and say the Litany of the Saints, before -he should be overtaken. He and his comrades planned their spiritual -life, day by day, with the most careful regularity. Their talk was -always of souls: “the Harvest” was their word for England, or else “the -Warfare.” In the chilly spring twilights Campion would push on ahead -again, “to make his prayers alone, and utter his zealous affections to -his Saviour without being heard or noted.” - -[Illustration: “P(ater) Edmundus Campianus, Martyr.” p 73.] - -The route lay through Siena, Florence, Bologna. In the latter city -there was a week’s delay, due to an injury to Fr. Parsons’ leg. The -band of twelve was entertained by the Cardinal Archbishop of that See, -who was the historian of the Council of Trent: Gabriel Paleotto. Like -Avellanedo, like many another Italian, Paleotto loved the English. -“Were he a born Englishman, he could not love them more,” wrote -Agazzario to Allen, at that time when the national temperament was -much more expressive and responsive than it is now. At Milan, in the -early part of May, the future confessors and martyrs were to find -another and a greater, also “much affectioned” towards them, who -received them most hospitably, and even asked the English College for -other relays of guests in the future. This was the great Archbishop, -St. Charles Borromeo. Bishop Goldwell, who had passed through Milan -days before the walkers reached it, had been, in 1563, Vicar-General -to St. Charles, and would have bespoken his interest in the little -party. The reverend host complimented Ralph Sherwin by asking him to -deliver a sermon before him, and as for Campion, he was required to -discourse daily after dinner. St. Charles himself, all the while, -whether vocal or silent, was acting upon the pilgrims as a _Sursum -corda_. “Without saying a word, he preached to us sufficiently,” says -the ever-appreciative Parsons, “and so we departed from him greatly -edified and exceedingly animated.” How charming is the forgotten use -of the last word, meaning “souled,” or, as we still say, “heartened,” -“inspirited!” Such indeed is the true function of the saints. - -From Turin the little company made for Mount Cenis, and young, -middle-aged and old lustily climbed it; and then among the torrents -and boulders of that glorious scenery, they came down into Savoy. -At St. Jean Maurienne they found the roads blocked by the Spanish -soldiery, and at Aiguebelle ran across other disturbances, caused by -the wars of religion raging in the Dauphiné. As there was nothing -to do but abandon the direct route, they turned aside and entered -Geneva, the hotbed of Calvinism, and the home of Theodore Beza, the -learned apostate who had succeeded to Calvin’s leadership. There was a -close community of spirit between Geneva and the English Reformation. -However, Switzerland, then as now, had liberal laws, and any traveller, -Catholic or Protestant, was free to pass, unmolested though not -unquestioned, three days in the city. It looks decidedly like an -alloy of mischief on the part of five of the English that they went -to call in a body on Beza! They were admitted as far as the court by -Claudine, his stolen wife, whom they had all heard of, and were not -ill-pleased to see. When the famous greybeard came out they managed, -after passing their compliments, to worry him with some telling -controversial shots. Campion knew not how to be rude: but Sherwin found -amusement, ever afterwards, in remembering how that honest fellow -“Patrick” stood and looked and talked, cap in hand, “facing out” (such -is Sherwin’s shockingly boyish language in a private letter), “the -old doting heretical fool.” The celebrity so described behaved rather -vaguely, and, in the course of nature, could not have been sorry to -see the last of his besiegers, and of their wits, sharpened with life -in the open air. He bowed them out with less abruptness than might -have been expected—indeed, with a certain show of civility; and went -back to his books. Later, Sherwin and two other youngsters, in a -midnight discussion with some English Protestant students, actually -challenged Beza and all Calvindom to a trial of theologies, with -the drastic proviso that the defeated party should be burnt in the -marketplace! Meanwhile Campion, in the _rôle_ of “Patrick,” did his -share of “facing out” other worthies in Geneva, besides finding an old -University friend there, who “used him lovingly,” but reported that an -alarm had been raised, and encouraged the departure of the paladins. -These, halting on a spur of the Jura before nightfall, with Lake Leman -spread beneath them, said _Te Deum_ together, that they were safely -out of the city. There seems to have been a good deal of curiosity -or bravado mingled with their polemical zeal, and Campion’s always -tender conscience would have readily accepted, if it did not suggest, -a suitable penance for the raid. So off they trudged nine steep, -contrite, extra miles (“extreme troublesome,” we are told they were) to -the nearest shrine, that of St. Claude, over the French border. - -They entered Rheims the last day of May, 1580, for in Rheims was -the soul, if not the body, of the College now driven, partly for -convenience, partly by force of trouble, out of Douay. That College -was never re-formed: but the scholar-exiles lived close together, up -and down the street still called _Rue des Anglais_. The travellers -were rapturously welcomed by all, especially by the great Englishman -whom the old narrative quaintly calls “Mr. Dr. Allen, the President.” -Here at Rheims the venerable Bishop of St. Asaph fell ill of a fever. -He was never again to cross the Channel. By the time he had fairly -recovered, rumours of his movements had naturally got abroad, and the -Pope was unwilling to imperil so important and precious a person. While -still a convalescent at Rheims, Goldwell wrote to his Holiness in -person, begging him to listen to no objections, but to anoint at once -three or four new Bishops to shepherd their own needy Church; and he -very touchingly assures the Holy Father, knowing that the question of -a fitting maintenance for them would arise, that God had so inclined -the minds of all the English priests whom he knew to put up with their -penniless and hunted daily lives, and the vision of the gallows always -before them, that any of these, once consecrated, would be entirely -contented to go on as poorly as he had gone heretofore, like a Bishop -of the Early Church. The application failed. “Etiquette and routine -prevailed,” says Simpson, in summing up this incident. - -In truth, it was not that good-will was lacking. Nobody on the Catholic -side believed that the new sad order of things in England was going -to last, and consequently, waiting and postponing in a matter of this -sort, could not seem the disastrous mistake which it really was. The -upshot, in any case, was that the good Bishop was recalled to Rome, and -there died; and that for thirty weary years the poor flock struggled -on without any qualified prelate to supply their crying spiritual -wants and hold them together. Then the first provisional leader, known -as the Archpriest, was appointed, and later came Vicars Apostolic. -When finally the longed-for mitres were seen again in the land, they -had been absent too long. The nominal link snapped; the great native -tradition was broken; the titles of the ancient Sees, given up, as -if in sleep, by their lineal heirs, were never reclaimed. So far as -surface connection goes,—and it goes far indeed with people in general, -who neither reason nor read, but get all their ideas from what they -see and hear, this was the most tragic loss which could possibly have -befallen the post-Reformation Church. (The English Benedictines kept -the thread of their own dynasty in their hands: but this did not affect -the Catholic body, and the lay interest.) The stranger who could not -destroy the life and blessing of the firstborn has had possession, for -three centuries and a half, by royal grant, of his home and of his very -name. - - - - -VIII - -INHOSPITABLE HOME: 1580 - - -SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM had a wonderfully well-organized spy-system: far -superior, as Simpson remarks, to the attempts of the Spaniards in the -same line. Therefore each of the missionaries was cautioned to travel -under a name other than his own. Campion fell back upon his beloved -alias of “Mr. Patrick,” as he had done for the brief visit to Geneva. -His friends made him drop it, as they neared the Channel; being Irish, -it was doubly dangerous, since here at Rheims the home-goers got their -first tardy news of the so-called Geraldine insurrection in Ireland, -acted upon in July, 1579, and crushed almost as soon by the massacre -at Smerwick in Kerry. It had been nursed by European feeling against -Elizabeth’s policy in Flanders, and her piracies on the high seas; and -the great religious grudge found it a convenient opening. Dr. Nicholas -Sander, who was not a Papal Legate, but stood none the less for the -Pope’s active good-will in the matter, joined the expedition with James -Fitzmaurice, Spanish soldiers, Roman officers, ships and supplies. That -expedition did not, as we know, dislodge Jezebel from her throne, but -it gave sufficient heartbreak to our messengers of the Gospel of Peace, -who were now sure to be mixed up with it in the popular mind. The -situation was certainly an awkward one. It gave unique plausibility to -Walsingham’s claim that (to quote Fr. Pollen) “the preaching of the old -Faith was only a political propaganda.” Father Robert Parsons faced the -future, on behalf of the rest, in the spirit of a brave man. “Seeing -that it lay not in our hands to remedy the matter, our consciences -being clear, we resolved ourselves, with the Apostle, ‘through evil -report and good report’ to go forward only with the spiritual action -we had in hand. And if God had appointed that any of us should suffer -in England under a wrong title, as Himself did upon the case of a -malefactor, we should lose nothing thereby, but rather gain with Him -who knew the truth, and Whom only in this enterprise we desired to -please.” - -Danger was a spur and not a bridle to Campion’s devoted will. But he -began to foresee little fruit from labours on his native ground, with -so much fierce misunderstanding against him; and to fear that he had -not done well in so gladly laying down what was, after all, steady -and successful work in Bohemia. With this buzzing scruple he went to -the President for advice. Allen replied that the work in “Boemeland,” -excellent at all points as it had been, yet could be done by any -equally qualified person, or “at least by two or three” such persons, -whereas in his own necessitous England Campion would be given strength -and grace to supply for many men. - -At Rheims, during his waiting-time, Campion preached one of his -famous sermons to the students. It gave him a pathetic pleasure to be -complimented upon his ready English, of which he had spoken little -in private, and not a word in public, for eight years. His text is -reported to have been Luke xii. 49: “I am come to send fire upon the -earth; and what will I but that it shall be kindled?” and at one point -he cried out in so earnest a manner: “Fire, fire, fire, fire!” that -those outside the Chapel ran for the water-buckets! But a careful -reading of what was then spoken suggests quite a different passage -of Holy Scripture as present in Campion’s mind. His theme was the -ruin wrought by the conflagration of heresy, now attacking a third -generation of Christian souls, and to be put out, he says, by “water of -Catholic doctrine, milk of sweet and holy conversation, blood of potent -martyrdom.” Isaiah lxiv. 11, runs: “Our holy and our beautiful house -where our fathers praised Thee, is burned up with fire; and all our -pleasant things are laid waste.” This very passage had been alluded to -in one of Campion’s former exhortations, and may have been a favourite -with him. The whole trend, indeed, and every part of this Rheims sermon -bear out the thoughts not of the Apostle’s page, but of the Prophet’s. - -Bishop Goldwell and Dr. Morton, the highest in office of the -missionary party, remained at Rheims. Three Englishmen, a lay Professor -of Law, and two priests, joined in, to fill up the gap, then another -Jesuit, who had been labouring in Poland: this was Fr. Thomas Cottam, -ordered home to restore his health, but destined, as were so many of -his comrades, for martyrdom. The little band of fifteen divided, and -sailed from different ports: Campion, with Parsons and one lay brother, -Ralph Emerson, headed for Calais as their point of departure, going -by way of St. Omers, “not a little encouraged to think that the first -mission of St. Augustine and his fellows into [our] island was by that -city.” Here there was another Jesuit College. The Flemish Fathers -croaked friendly warnings in their ears, for it was common rumour -in St. Omers that the Queen’s Council had full information of the -appearance, dress and movements of the exiles, and had officers posted -to waylay them on arrival. They had come on foot nearly nine hundred -miles, and were not likely to give up the object of their journey. But -they took precautions. It was decided that Parsons should go first, -in military attire, accompanied from the Low Countries by a good youth -who passed as his man George; and that if Parsons got safely to Dover, -he was to send for Campion and the faithful little soul Ralph Emerson. -An English gentleman “living over seas for his conscience,” brought Fr. -Parsons his fine disguise: nothing less than a Captain’s uniform of -buff leather, with gold lace, big boots, sword, hat, plume, and all. -Campion, when he had gone, sat down to write to the General of the -Society about him, with his inevitably pictorial touch. “Father Robert -sailed from Calais after midnight.... They got him up like a soldier: -such a peacock! such a swaggerer!... such duds, such a glance, such -a strut! A man must have a sharp eye indeed,” he adds, “to catch any -glimpse of the holiness and modesty that lurk there underneath it all.” -He goes on to explain how he is laying out money to buy numerous and -silly clothes “to dress up myself and Ralph,” whereby “to cheat the -madness of this world.” Fr. Parsons, like Campion himself in lesser -_rôles_, must have been a dramatic genius, for arriving at Dover on -the 12th of June, and falling into the hands of the searcher, he so won -him over, by the mere swagger and strut aforementioned, as not only to -be passed without inquiry, but to be helped to a horse to carry him -to Gravesend. Thereupon the Captain was quick to bespeak the interest -of so unexpectedly polite a functionary in his friend “Mr. Edmunds,” -described as a jewel-merchant lying at St. Omers; and he gave the -searcher a letter recommending London as a good market, to be forwarded -post-haste to that gentleman, and to be shown to the searcher again by -“Mr. Edmunds” himself when he came over. And by the reception of that -letter Campion learned that Fr. Parsons was scot-free, and speeded on -his way. - -On the Feast of his old College patron, St. John the Baptist, “Mr. -Edmunds,” followed by Brother Ralph, his supposed servant, boarded the -vessel bound for Dover. At daybreak they stepped ashore under the white -cliffs, and there kneeling a moment in the shadow of a rock, Campion -renewed his offering of himself, without reserve or condition, to the -God of Hosts, for the dark “warfare” which lay before him. - -Meanwhile, the dispositions of the searcher (who evidently put in no -appearance) had undergone a forced change. He and the Mayor of the town -had been reprimanded by the Council for letting Papists slip through -their nets. Moreover, there had been furnished, by a spy, a detailed -description of Cardinal Allen’s brother, who was about to pass through -Dover on his way to relatives in Lancashire; and as Gabriel Allen and -Edmund Campion looked very much alike, our jewel-merchant found himself -instantly under arrest. With an accuracy which he was not in the least -aware of, the Mayor charged him and the lay brother of being “foes to -the Queen’s religion and friends to the old Faith; with sailing under -false names, and with returning for the purpose of propagating Popery.” -Campion offered to swear that he was not Gabriel Allen, but offered -in vain. The Mayor held a hasty conference, and ordered a mounted -guard to carry both prisoners up to Sir Francis Walsingham and the -Council. All this time, Campion was praying to God for deliverance, -and earnestly begging St. John the Baptist to intercede for himself -and his companion. They were waiting near the closed door of a room. -“Suddenly,” wrote Campion himself long after, to the Father-General, -“suddenly cometh forth an old man: God give him grace for his pains! -‘Well,’ quoth he, ‘it is agreed you shall be dismissed: fare ye well.’” -After which the two Jesuits left without further notice or opposition, -and travelled as fast as ever they could to London. - -Fr. Parsons had reached the city not without adventure, but without -mishap, a fortnight before. Yet as no word had been received since from -him, Campion had no idea how to proceed or whither to go; nor could -he inquire without arousing suspicion. Fortunately Parsons had given -to some watchful young Catholics a description of the jewel-merchant -and his man: Ralph Emerson was easily recognizable on account of his -extremely short stature. Thus they had hardly touched the wharf at the -Hythe before a stranger, Thomas Jay, stepped to the gangway, with a -welcoming gesture, saying: “Mr. Edmunds, give me your hand: I stay here -for you, to lead you to your friends.” Under this guidance Campion -reached London and Chancery Lane, where he was clothed and armed, and -provided with a horse. He must have been astonished to learn under -whose roof he was so safe and so comfortable: for it was none other -than that of the chief pursuivant! Here was, indeed, a case of the bird -nesting in the cannon’s mouth. St. Augustine warns us that we are not -to think that ungodly men are kept in this world for nothing, nor that -God has no good purposes of His own to fulfil through them. One cause -of the miraculous preservation of the ancient Faith under Elizabeth lay -in the fact that many an official, high and low, of that time-serving -Government, was in the pay of the Recusant gentry. A strange situation -it was, and by no means an infrequent one, when some of these, brought -before the magistrates, would be discharged on the assurance of the -bought-over official that the prisoner was “an honest gentleman”: thus -averting all suspicion from the latter for the time being. - -The band of lay Catholics, some of whom Campion had known from boyhood, -like Henry Vaux and Richard Stanihurst, were acting as friends, freely -leagued together, as occasion arose, for the helping of priests, -and the furthering of religion. Their time, their thoughts, their -self-sacrifice, their purses, were at the service particularly of the -Jesuits, persons habitually being described by Sir Walter Mildmay in -the Star Chamber as “lewd runagates,” “a sort of hypocrites,” “a rabble -of vagrant friars.” The leader of them all, in his inspiring zeal, -though not highest in station, was George Gilbert, a rich young squire -owning estates (which were confiscated in the end) in Buckinghamshire -and Suffolk. He was a convert, a great rider and athlete, dear to many; -but in secret a lover of apostolic poverty, living for others: in -short, a saint. He spent himself to the last breath for the Faith as -truly as if he had perished at Tyburn Tree. In banishment, he still -served the same cause by his forethought and his generosity in the use -of such worldly goods as were left to him: for he became responsible, -at Rome, for the series of paintings of the English martyrdoms which -gave their chief historical standing to the Beatifications of 1886. -Thus Gilbert, living and dead, was Blessed Edmund Campion’s availing -friend and lover. - - - - -IX - -SKIRMISHING: THE ENGLISH COUNTIES: 1580 - - -THE devoted George Gilbert, his fellowship of young men, and those whom -they gathered together, met on the Feast of SS. Peter and Paul, June -29, to hear, for the first time, Fr. Campion preach. It was no easy -task to find a safe and suitable auditorium; but Lord Paget, one of -their own number, was daring enough to hire from Lord Norreys the hall -of a great house in the neighbourhood of Smithfield. All the servants -and porters were turned out for the occasion, and gentlemen took their -places. Within a few days, however, rumours about Campion’s sermon and -about Campion were flying over the city. There were a number of spies -about, instructed by the Council, pretending to be lapsed Catholics or -unsettled Protestants, and trying hard to bag such new and shining -birds as the Jesuits; but Campion had a friend at court who warned -him, and therefore held only private conferences in friendly houses -with those whom he knew. The missionaries were sent to strengthen the -wills of the wavering Catholics, and not primarily to make converts. -Personal dealings with would-be converts were never attempted except -as supplementary to the action of the lay helpers, who took all the -soundings, and gave any needful catechizing. When Parsons, who had been -away in the country, got back to town, Mr. Henry Orton and Fr. Robert -Johnson had been tracked and imprisoned, through Sledd, the apostate -informer; and it became plain to the rest of the little band gathered -about Parsons and Campion that, for reasons immediate and remote, both -Fathers must be spirited away. Each went mounted, with a companion, -Gervase Pierrepoint being Campion’s guide; and at Hoxton, in July, the -priests parted for their separate fields of action. - -Just before that, however, there arrived as a deputy to them, Mr. -Thomas Pounde of Belmont, the best-known, perhaps, of all English -prisoners for the Faith: he was committed to gaol sixteen times and -passed thirty years in durance. Pounde had managed to bribe the -gaoler of the Marshalsea to let him out for this short journey. Most -anxious for the good repute of the Fathers, he rode post-haste to tell -them that enemies in London were spreading the report that they had -come over for political purposes, and that if in the midst of their -apostolic work in the shires they should be taken and executed, the -Government would be sure to issue pamphlets, as was its habit, defaming -their motives, and slandering the Catholic body. Therefore he begged -both Jesuits to write “a vindication of their presence and purpose in -England,” which, signed and sealed, might be given to the public, if -things came to the worst. The certain accusation and its answer had -been debated before, in council, by many clergy, who had contented -themselves with agreeing to swear, when called upon, that they had no -business whatever in hand but that of religion. But Campion now drew -up his own document then and there at a table, while the others were -talking. In it, he declares that “my charge is of free cost to preach -the Gospel ... to cry alarm spiritual;” that “matters of state are -things which appertain not to my vocation,” and are “straitly forbid”: -things “from which I do gladly estrange and sequester my thoughts.” And -never thinking of himself, but fired with confidence in his cause, he -goes on to beg leave for a public presentment of the Faith. He says, -in the course of this splendid little philippic: “I should be loath to -speak anything that might sound of an insolent brag or challenge ... in -this noble realm, my dear country.” It shows completely the partisan -temper of the time that his statement got exactly that name, and no -other, fastened upon it. It was called everywhere “Campion’s Brag and -Challenge,” and its modest author was contemned and ridiculed for the -implication that his own powers were so very superior that he must of -course get the better of others in any argument! - -Pounde took his copy, which Campion forgot to seal, back to London, -read it in raptures, let it be seen, admired, talked about, and -transcribed: this was his curious way of keeping a secret. The result -was that what was meant to meet a particular crisis, and serve for a -last will and testament, became as common property, beforehand, as -any ballad sold in the streets. Lively measures were at once taken -by the Bishop of Winchester; and the State, hypocritically urging -“conspiracy,” pounced upon a host of Catholic lords and gentlemen. Yet -Campion’s little composition, which bred all this fury, only asks for -“three sorts of indifferent and quiet audience”: one hearing before -the Lords in Council, on the relation of the Church to the English -Government; the next before the Heads of Houses of both Universities, -on the proofs of the truth of the Catholic religion; the last before -the courts spiritual and temporal, “wherein I will justify the said -Faith by the common wisdom of the laws standing.” Then he pleads in -deferent and almost affectionate words, for a special audience of -“her noble Grace” the Queen. In his candour and fearless simplicity -he believed that opponents had only to hear to be convinced, thus -crediting them with that earnestness in religious matters which he -possessed himself, and which only a very few of the best Protestants of -that day shared with him. Campion closes his appeal with a wonderfully -beautiful reference to the vowed Seminarian priests, and in a lofty -music of good English, worthy to stand by any passage of like length in -the great prose classics. “Hearken to those which spend the best blood -in their bodies for your salvation. Many innocent hands are lifted up -unto Heaven for you, daily and hourly, by those English students whose -posterity shall not die, which, beyond the seas, gathering virtue and -sufficient knowledge for the purpose, are determined never to give you -over, but either to win you to Heaven or to die upon your pikes. And -touching our Society, be it known unto you that we have made a league -(all the Jesuits in the world, whose succession and multitude must -overreach all the practices of England!) cheerfully to carry the cross -that you shall lay upon us, and never to despair your recovery while -we have a man left to enjoy your Tyburn, or to be racked with your -torments, or to be consumed with your prisons. The expense is reckoned; -the enterprise is begun; it is of God: it cannot be withstood. So -the Faith was planted. So it must be restored. If these my offers -be refused, and my endeavours can take no place, and I, having run -thousands of miles to do you good, shall be rewarded with rigour, I -have no more to say, but recommend your case and mine to Almighty God, -the Searcher of Hearts: Who send us of His grace, and set us at accord -before the Day of Payment, to the intent we may at last be friends in -Heaven, where all injuries shall be forgotten.” - -Parsons’ work lay in Gloucester, Hereford, Worcestershire, Warwickshire -and Derbyshire; Campion’s in the more southerly Midlands. The wandering -Levite with his attendant gentleman would approach at evening, and -with caution, the friendly roof, either Catholic or, though Protestant, -containing Catholics, and be received at the door as strangers, -then conducted to an inner room, where all who seek the priest’s -ministrations kneel and ask for his blessing. That night all is got -ready, and confessions are heard, instructions given, reconciliations -effected; at dawn there is Mass, preaching, and Holy Communion; and -the travellers depart for the next household station. Most edifying -accounts are given of the devotion of good married Confessors, who -were scattered all over the land. The Jesuits met with many seculars, -“whom we find in every place, whereby both the people is well served, -and we much eased in our charge.” These were the old Marian priests, -active in obscurity. The “harvest is wonderful great”: so many show -“a conscience pure, a courage invincible, zeal incredible, a work so -worthy; the number innumerable, of high degree, of mean calling ... -of every age and sex.” “The solaces that are ever intermingled with -the miseries are so great that they do not only countervail the fear -of what punishment temporal soever, but by infinite sweetness make all -worldly pains, be they never so great, seem nothing,” for the sake of -“this good people which had lived before, so many ages, in one only -Faith.” Day by day, running in and out of all the busy heroic toil, is -the fiery thread of danger and alarm. “We are sitting merrily at table, -conversing familiarly on matters of faith and devotion (for our talk is -generally of such things) when comes a hurried knock at the door.... We -all start up and listen, like deer when they hear the huntsman.... If -it is nothing, we laugh at our fright.” Then there was calumny, a far -more difficult thing to accept in the same gay spirit. “They tear and -sting us with their venomous tongues, calling us seditious, hypocrites; -yea, heretics, too! which is much laughed at. The people hereupon is -ours.” And again: “The house where I am is sad: no other talk but of -the death, flight, prison, or spoil of their friends; nevertheless, -they proceed with courage. Very many, even at this present, being -restored to the Church, new soldiers give in their names, while the old -offer up their blood, by which holy hosts and oblations God will be -pleased. And we shall—no question!—by Him overcome.” These are extracts -from Campion’s letters, and give a clear idea of his life during his -visitations of 1580-1. - -There were then many more Manor-houses, kept up as such, than there -are now; most of those which Campion visited had their hiding-place -or “priests’ hole,” to which he could always fly when safety demanded -it. He settled a host of weak Catholics in their religion, and also -received a great many conspicuous converts. It will be noted that the -little Jesuit mission was directed to the gentry. This was not through -accident, or partiality, or snobbery. The gentry had most personal -weight; they were better able to protect a hunted man; and they were -naturally supposed to have stricter notions of honour: this last was -a point on which everything depended. Moreover, the old spirit of -feudalism was not so dead but that through them all workmen on their -estates, or connected by interest with them in the towns, could be -reached and influenced. In a hurried campaign, every consideration -of prudence and forethought would choose them, so to speak, as the -outworks of the citadel. - -The country districts north and south were all still favourable to -Catholicism. London, the University of Cambridge, and some larger towns -and seaports, especially in the West, were half Puritan or Calvinistic, -half irreligious and indifferent. The ancient Faith, as was well -said by Sir Cuthbert Sharpe, for the most part “still lay like lees -at the bottom of men’s hearts; and if the vessel were ever so little -stirred, came to the top.” A thoughtful living writer sums it up as -his conclusion that England would have resumed the Faith with a sigh -of relief, had it not been for the resentments bred by the Catholic -“plotters.” Considering the frightful circumstances of the body to -which these men belonged, it is putting too great a strain, perhaps, -upon human nature to expect smooth behaviour from every individual in -it. The genuine “plotters” were few. Against them stands the passionate -loyalty of our persecuted minority, both all along, and in the one -great crisis. When the deliverer loomed up in the shape of Philip’s -Armada, blessed and indulgenced like a crusade of old, where were they, -supposed to be so sick of Queen and country? Hand in impoverished -pocket, strengthening the national defences; cutlass on thigh, manning -the English fleet. - - - - -X - -MANY LABOURS: AND A BOOK: 1580 - - -CAMPION passed four months of pleasant weather in hard and happy work, -moving about Northamptonshire, Berkshire, Oxfordshire. Some lovely -little spiritual adventure starred his path, and the paths of others, -wherever he went. He must have seen more than once, from some hilly -road afar off, even if he never entered it, - - “The towery City, branchy between towers,” - -which was so dear to him to the last. In October of this year, 1580, -he was bidden towards London as far as Uxbridge: farther he could -hardly come, without the gravest peril, as the Privy Council were just -issuing their third warrant for the capture of Jesuits. There he was -joined by Fr. Parsons and several other missionaries. A conference -was held: it was represented that Norfolk and Lancashire were eager -to claim Fr. Campion’s ministrations, and it was decided that he was -to go to Lancashire, preferable as being not only farther from London -and also “more affected to the Catholic religion,” but as having -better private libraries. For they were now urging Campion to write -again: this time something on the burning questions of the day, aimed -particularly at the Universities (where his Challenge was still the -staple of daily talk), and therefore to be written in Latin. We are not -so sure, now-a-days, that controversy does much good, but one reason -for that may be that we have few Campions to carry it on. It is well to -remember that people then read nothing else, except poetry! Campion’s -work was his famous _Decem Rationes Propositæ in Causa Fidei_, or, as -the title is given in its only modern translation (1827), _Ten Reasons -for Renouncing the Protestant, and Embracing the Catholic Religion_. -At first the author was for calling his thesis _Heresy in Despair: De -Hæresi Desperata_. His counsellors agreed, amid laughter, that it -would be odd indeed to nail such a title as that to the mast, when -heresy was so powerful and flourishing; but, according to Campion’s -own philosophy, there was no life in an argument whose only premisses, -as he once said, are “curses, starvation, and the rack.” Here we come -back at once to his root principle, which modern research so fully -justifies, in regard to the England of his own day. A “gentleman saint” -who uttered many an ironic, but never a contemptuous word, Campion -could not be persuaded that “the received religion” was a genuine -thing. He believed that temporal interest alone led people to conform -to the new alterations and restrictions; that the lay statesmen who -were pushing things through were concerned not with doctrine, but -only with negations of doctrine, and that on the other side, nothing -was so promising, nothing so gloriously fruitful, as persecutions -and martyrdoms. First and last, he had a strong dash of optimism. In -this spirit he began his last treatise, writing it as best he could, -depending on his memory, and on such books as country squires might -have in their houses, and putting it together in among the almost -incessant journeys, duties, fatigues and alarms of the next few weeks. - -The two Jesuit friends parted at Uxbridge, “with the tenderness of -heart which in such a case and so dangerous a time may be imagined.” -Gervase Pierrepoint conveyed Campion into Nottinghamshire to spend -Christmas at Thoresby, his home; thence into Derbyshire, where one of -the young Tempests succeeded as guide; and the gentleman who directed -the Yorkshire part of the journey reached in safety the house of his -own brother-in-law, Mr. William Harrington of Mount St. John, near -Thirsk, where the Father was received with open arms. Here he settled -down for less than a fortnight at his desk, among his note-books, at -peace. But to have him in the house at all was to risk the contagion -of the things of God. The eldest of the large family, a wild boy, his -father’s namesake, was quick to feel the spell of this most attractive -guest. “Not only his eloquence and fire,” says Fr. Henry More of -Campion, “but a certain hidden infused power, made his words strike -home.” Some of these simple words of every day “struck home” to the -young William Harrington, so that fourteen years afterwards he found -the palm-branch of martyrdom growing green and fair for him on the -public execution ground. At this very time of Campion’s visit, the Lent -of 1581, there was another lad of fourteen or fifteen, John Pibush, -running about the streets of Thirsk, his native village, who may have -gone to Confession to the strange priest at the Manor, and wondered at -him, unknowing that he, too, was sealed as a future holocaust in the -same immortal cause. - -From Mount St. John, where he must have tasted much natural happiness, -Campion travelled into Lancashire, under the protection of a former -pupil and his wife. There he was affectionately welcomed and cared -for in each of eight great houses, where himself and his spiritual -conferences were still a glowing tradition, sixty or seventy years -afterwards. He had to live, think, write, in a crowd. The local -gentry drove from great distances and slept in barns, only to hear and -see him once. At Blainscough Hall, the seat of the Worthingtons, the -pursuivants would have discovered him, where he was walking in the -open air, had it not been for the cleverness and splendid presence of -mind of a faithful maidservant, standing hard by. She ran up against -him, in a pretended fit of temper, and shoved him into a shallow pond! -The pursuivants, sent out by the terrible Huntingdon, President of the -North, to apprehend a distinguished cleric and scholar, naturally never -gave that mud-covered yokel a second glance. - -Fr. Campion would have learned by now the fate of most of the -enthusiastic band who had travelled in his company, from Rome or Rheims -to England, during the preceding summer: five priests, including the -lovable gay-hearted Sherwin, were languishing in cells and on the -rack; Fr. Parsons, though hunted, was free. Following a suggestion of -Campion’s, he set up a private printing press, in order that the _Ten -Reasons_ and other Catholic works of defensive controversy might be -issued as they were needed. Publishing, like every other major industry -open to the Catholics, was outlawed; devotional and doctrinal books had -to be brought out in this hole-and-corner fashion, if at all. Another -of those lay associates of the mission, whose devotion and usefulness -had been proved at every point, came forward to bear the brunt of the -new enterprise. The young Stephen Brinkley, Bachelor of Civil Law, -called by Parsons “a gentleman of high attainments both in literature -and in virtue,” volunteered to become manager and head compositor, -and amid many dramatic and exciting interruptions, carried his task -through. Machinery, types, paper, and the rest were bought with money -supplied by the ever-helpful George Gilbert. Brinkley himself, to avert -suspicion, had to buy horses for his workmen, and attire them like -persons of quality whenever they went abroad. He quite knew what he -was risking. After him, still another knight of letters in a far less -perilous field, offered himself in the person of Thomas Fitzherbert of -Swynnerton, then newly married (long afterwards a priest, and Rector -of the English College in Rome). His not undelightful duty was to -verify the mass of references and authorities quoted in the margins of -Campion’s manuscript: this he did in a scholarly way, satisfactory to -the scholarly author, who believed in research, and liked nothing at -second-hand. Lastly, Parsons, as Campion’s Superior, recalled him to -London in April or May to see the little volume through the press, and -cautioned him to put up only at inns on the way, where happily he might -pass as “the gentleman in the parlour.” - -Thirty miles or so north of the great city, Campion had one of his -ever-recurring narrow escapes. A spy, hungry for reward, had dogged -his steps on his way from York. At a certain town not named, a little -boy who knew Campion by sight overheard this man describing the Father -to a magistrate, and calling him “Jesuit,” a word the child had never -heard. He ran straight to the tavern where the “Jesuit” had put up and -succeeded in finding him and warning him! so the bird was safely on the -wing before the fowlers were in sight. - -Campion came to Westminster and Whitefriars, and set to work, -diligently as ever. With Father Robert he had frequent occasion to -visit the Bellamys of Uxenden Hall near Harrow, a family under whose -roof his old friend Richard Bristow had died in the preceding autumn. -Their later adversities and annihilation were only too typical of -Catholic domestic history under Elizabeth. Going to Harrow meant going -up the Edgware Road, and in the mouth of that road, between waste lands -(facing the spot across the street where the Marble Arch now stands), -was the famous Tyburn gallows. This particular one had been put up new -for Dr. Storey’s execution, ten years before: it had three posts set -in a triangle, with connecting cross-bars at the top. Once every week, -without intermission, batches of criminals perished there. Even now, -and with far greater frequency afterwards, holy and innocent men and -women made up a large proportion of the “criminals”; and remembering -these dear souls, and conscious that there he was to follow them in -confession of the King of Martyrs, Campion would always solemnly take -off his hat and pause, in passing, to salute Tyburn Tree. - -Meanwhile, in the quiet and seclusion of Dame Cecily Stonor’s park, -near Henley, and in the attics which she bravely set apart for the -purpose, the _Decem Rationes_ got itself safely printed by Stephen -Brinkley and his seven honest men. Campion, with fine bravado, dated -it from “Cosmopolis”; and the distribution of it was as audacious as -the dating. The first copies bound, about four hundred in number, -were hurriedly stabbed, instead of stitched, in time to go up for -the Oxford commemoration, June 27th of that year. The church of St. -Mary-the-Virgin was then used for all the “Acts,” for the accommodation -of which, a century later, the Sheldonian Theatre was built. When the -company entered St. Mary’s, the benches were found littered with the -“seditious” books. Their dedication was “to the studious Collegians -flourishing at Oxford and Cambridge,” and the youths in question were -just in the humour to read them; and read them they did, then and -there, instead of attending to the important annual function going -on! This rudeness bred protest, and protest bred a lively scene. To -understand it we must recall that the undergraduate element was then, -by comparison, the conservative element. Heads of Houses, Fellows and -Tutors, learned and popular men, had been removed wholesale by the -Elizabethan settlement of religion in favour of new men concisely -described as “extremists from Geneva, intellectually inferior to those -who had been displaced, and representing a different spirit, and -different traditions.” The student body looked on them with scorn. -Again, to quote another chief authority on this subject, “the young -Oxonians did not bear easily the Elizabethan drill, and felt that -if their liberty must be crushed they would fain have it crushed by -something more venerable than the mushroom authority of the Ministers -of the Queen. They were as tinder, and Campion’s book was just the -sort of spark to set them in a blaze.” The excited Government told -off relays of clergymen to courtmartial and shoot it. Aylmer, Bishop -of London, wished to commission nine Deans, seven Archdeacons, and -the two Regius Professors of Divinity to punish the tiny offender; -but the actual ammunition brought into the field was not quite so -imposing as all this. The answers were duly published, dealing in the -most unmeasured personal abuse of Campion. No attempt was made in -any instance to rival either his religious fervour or his literary -grace. His last labour with his pen made, in short, a very great and -an extremely prolonged stir. Its fate was a romantic one from start to -finish, for it was so quickly and thoroughly confiscated that not more -than a couple of copies are now known to exist. Despite the outcry, or -because of it, edition after edition was called for. There have been -nearly thirty reprints in the original Latin, and many translations -into modern languages, inclusive of three beautiful translations -into the good English common in 1606, 1632, and 1687, one of which -should be re-issued. The _Ten Reasons_, written under such immense -difficulties, had all of Campion’s zeal and pith, and was “a model of -eloquence, elegance, and good taste.” Marc Antony Muret, the greatest -Latinist of the time, called it _libellum aureum_, “a golden little -book, writ by the very finger of God.” Campion had gone, in his ardent, -sensitive, rhetorical, compendious way, over the whole ground of the -credentials of that Church which had had the allegiance of England for -more than a thousand years: Scripture, the Fathers, the Councils, the -evidence of human history, are all drawn upon, in the best spirit of -the new learning. The characteristic note of personal appeal to the -Queen is not lacking here at the end. Campion’s theme is the Church, -and he quotes from the Prophet Isaiah: “Kings shall be thy nursing -fathers, and Queens thy nursing mothers;” and he names as among the -great monarchs whose joy it was to further the Church in their day, -St. Edward the Confessor, St. Louis of France, St. Henry of Saxony, -St. Wenceslaus of Bohemia, St. Stephen of Hungary, and the rest. Then -he cries out to “Elizabeth, most mighty Queen,” to listen. “For this -Prophet is speaking unto thee, is teaching thee thy duty. I tell thee -one Heaven cannot gather in Calvin and these thine ancestors. Join -thyself therefore to them, else shalt thou stand unworthy of that name -of thine, thy genius, thy learning, thy fame before all men, and thy -fortunes. To this end do I conspire, and will conspire, against thee, -whatever betideth me, who am so often menaced with the gallows as a -conspirator hostile to thy life. (‘All hail, thou good Cross!’) The day -shall come, O Elizabeth! the day that shall make it altogether clear -which of the two did love thee best: the Company of Jesus, or the brood -of Luther!” - -Hardly was the last of the original imprints bound and distributed, -when the pursuivants in search of what was roughly, but significantly -enough, called “Massing-stuff,” pounced upon Stonor Park, and caught -red-handed there, and carried off, the two gentlemen, John Stonor -and Stephen Brinkley, and four of the printers, one of whom, a poor -frightened fellow, conformed, and was let off at once. William Hartley, -ordained the year before, who had in person strewn the _Ten Reasons_ -over the benches of the University Church, and made special gifts of -copies in various Colleges, was arrested a little later. His fate was -not exceptional, like that of his comrades just mentioned, who were -eventually released on bail. He suffered at Tyburn; and his mother, -heroic as the mother of the Macchabees, stood by his young body in its -butchering, and thanked God aloud for her privilege in so giving back -to Him such a son. - -Campion spent St. John’s Day (marking the first anniversary of his -return to England) at Lady Babington’s, at Twyford in Buckinghamshire, -a house not many miles from Stonor, on the other bank of the Thames. He -stayed a little while at Bledlow also, and at Wynge, with the Dormers, -his whole heart bent, every moment of the time, upon his Father’s -business. But his free days were almost done. - -The outcry redoubled, now that he had again succeeded in catching -public attention. Fresh and monstrously cruel measures were therefore -taken against all Papists. “Naught is lacking,” wrote to Acquaviva -the tender soul who too well knew himself to be the cause of many -sorrows, “but that to our books written with ink should succeed others -daily published, and written in blood.” Fr. Parsons prudently ordered -him back to the North. The two heard each other’s confessions and -renewal of vows at Stonor, and said good-bye, exchanging hats as a -parting gift, after the friendly fashion of their time. Campion was -to ride straightway into Lancashire to get his manuscript and notes, -left behind, his former companion Ralph Emerson going with him; and -he was then to betake himself to the fresh mission field in Norfolk. -As it fell out, he soon spurred back after Parsons to tell him of -a letter that moment received. It was from a gentleman named Yate, -then a prisoner for his religion, earnestly begging Campion to visit -Lyford Grange in Berkshire, the gentleman’s own estate, hard by, -where his wife and mother still were, together with Edward Yate, and -part of a proscribed community of English Brigittine nuns, driven -back into England by troubles in the Low Countries. Fr. Parsons, -knowing the house to be a conspicuous one, and already supplied with -chaplains, was unwilling to grant the permission. But eventually he -gave in, warning the two others not to tarry beyond one night or one -day, and as a precaution, putting Campion under the lay brother’s -care and obedience. Parsons parted from him not without a rueful and -affectionate word. “You are too easy-going by far,” he said to his -friend and fellow-soldier, purposely giving its least heroic name to -that intentionally prodigal zeal for souls. “I know you, Father Edmund; -if they once get you there, you will never break away!” - -[Illustration: “We have not broken through here!” [P. 134] - - - - -XI - -AT LYFORD GRANGE, AND AFTER: 1581 - - -ON the morning of July 12, Father Edmund and Brother Ralph, faithful -to agreement, were in their saddles again, leaving the pious household -refreshed, but lamenting. Of the two priests who formed part of it, -one, Fr. Collington, or Colleton, escorted them some distance on their -way. Campion had already been waylaid, at an inn near Oxford, by many -friendly tutors and undergraduates, when up galloped the other chaplain -of Lyford, Fr. Forde. He was a Trinity College man, who had entered -Douay just after Campion’s arrival there, and was to follow him closely -to martyrdom. Forde brought news that a large party of Catholics had -come over to Lyford to visit the nuns, and, distressed at missing Fr. -Campion, were clamouring for his return. The Oxford group had been -begging their old champion to preach to them, which he would not do -in so public a place; they now added their entreaties to those of the -deputy of the strangers, and offered to join these at Lyford. Surely, -he who had given a whole day to a few godly nuns, who needed him but -little, could not refuse a Saturday and Sunday to so many soiled souls -of every stripe and colour, “thirsting for the waters of life”? The -suit was insistent; Campion was inclined to give in, but referred his -admirers to Brother Emerson, as his provisional Superior. He, in turn, -was overborne. It seemed much safer, after all, for the precious Father -to be among friends, while he, Ralph, went on alone to fetch the books -from Mr. Richard Houghton’s in Lancashire. So back to Lyford Campion -went, to the poor little lay brother’s everlasting regret. - -On the following Sunday morning, the ninth after Pentecost, Campion -preached at the Grange on the gospel of the day, the peculiarly -touching gospel of Jesus weeping over Jerusalem, the changed and -faithless city which stoned the prophets, and knew not, in her day, -the things that were to her peace. No one present ever forgot that -heart-shaking sermon, laden as it was with pathos and presentiment. -There was an audience of sixty, including the Oxonians. Unfortunately -it included also George Eliot, a man of the most evil personal repute, -an apostate and a Government spy, armed with plenary powers. He was -then under a charge of murder, and was anxious to whitewash himself -in the eyes of the Council by some conspicuous public service. He -had once been a servant of the Ropers at Canterbury; and Mrs. Yate’s -honest cook, who had known Eliot there in his decent days, let him in -without question, whispering what a treat was in store for him in the -preaching of none other than Father Campion! Though the warrant for the -apprehension of the Jesuit was in Eliot’s pocket, he little thought to -capture him so easily and so soon. A pursuivant had accompanied him to -the gate; Eliot went back to this person, nominally to dismiss him, -as a heretic, really to speed him to a magistrate at Abingdon for a -force of an hundred men to arrest Campion in the Queen’s name. Then he -went piously up-stairs to Mass, Edmund Campion’s last Mass, so far as -we know. That, and the sermon, passed by in peace, and Eliot himself -left. Immediately after dinner an alarm was given by a watchman posted -in a turret, who saw the enemy far off. Campion sprang up, and started -to leave at once, and alone, saying that his chances of escape might -be fair, and that his remaining would only involve the household in -discomfort and danger. But they all clung to him, assuring him that -Lyford was full of cunning secret passages and hiding-holes; and into -one of these, in the wall above the gateway, he was forthwith hurried -by Forde and Collington, who laid themselves down by his side, and -crossed their hands over their breasts. - -Back came Eliot with the magistrate, a civil squire, and the -neighbourly Berkshire yeomen who loathed the work. He made them turn -the whole house topsy-turvy, nor desist till evenfall; then, finding -nothing, they withdrew. However, they returned almost in the same -breath, egged on by Eliot, who now would have the walls sounded. -The Abingdon magistrate apologized to Mrs. Yate, not for the Queen’s -warrant, but for his associate, “the mad-man,” as he called him, who -was carrying it out. The lady was an invalid; thinking not altogether -of herself, she railed and wept. The magistrate kindly soothed her -fears, and allowed her to sleep where she pleased, undisturbed by -his men and their din. She chose to have a bed made up close to the -hiding-place. She was conducted thither with the honours of war, and -a sentinel was posted at the room door. The tapping and smashing went -merrily on elsewhere until late at night, when, by her orders, the -sheriff’s baffled underlings made a fine supper, and being worn out, -fell asleep over their cups, even as they were expected to do. Poor -Mrs. Yate was either by nature the silliest of women, or else her -nerves were upset by illness and trying circumstance, for she sent -for Fr. Campion, as well as for all her other guests who were in that -part of the house, and requested him, as he stood by her bedside—of -all possible things—to preach to them just once more! One could not -in courtesy refuse a hostess, however unreasonable, who was risking so -much for him; nor would it have been like him to refuse. Allen tells us -that it was his invariable habit to preach “once a day at the least, -often twice, and sometimes thrice, whereby through God’s goodness -he converted sundry in most shires of this realm of most wisdom and -worship, besides young gentlemen students, and others of all sorts.” - -Fr. Campion discharged his task. As the little congregation broke up, -some one stumbled in the dark, and several fell; the snoring sentinel -awoke; searchers, with lanterns and axes, swarmed up from below. There -was nothing to be seen: Lyford was not honeycombed in vain with hidden -passages. The men-at-arms had been fooled too often, and were angry -with Eliot. Yet that functionary knew that something was still really -afoot, that the alarm was not a false one. On going down the stairs -again he struck his hand upon the wall over it. “We have not broken -through here!” he said. A loyal servant of the Yates, who was at his -side, and who knew it was just there the refugees lay, muttered that -enough wall had been ruined already, and then went deadly pale while -Eliot’s eye was still on him. The latter called, in triumph, for a -smith’s hammer, and banged it into the thin timber partition, and into -the narrow cell. And thus was Father Edmund Campion taken at Lyford -Grange, at dawn of Monday, July 17th, in the year 1581. - -He was quite calm, quite cheerful. With him were apprehended the two -priests, seven gentlemen, and two yeomen. Forster, the Sheriff of -Berkshire, hitherto absent, arrived. As he was an Oxonian, and almost a -Catholic, and kindly disposed towards Campion, he waited to hear from -the Council what was to be done. On the fourth day orders came to send -the chief prisoners up to London, under a strong guard. Leaving the -old moated house and its many occupants, now distracted with grief, -Campion took horse at the door, and rode slowly off, Eliot prancing in -triumph at the head of the company, though the common people saluted -him as “Judas,” all along the way. The first halt was at Abingdon; -sympathetic Oxford scholars had come down to see the last of the great -light of the University under such black eclipse. Eliot accosted his -victim at table: “Mr. Campion, I know well you are wroth with me -for this work!” He drew out a beautiful answer, sincere, composed, -half-playful: a saint’s answer. “Nay, I forgive thee; and in token -thereof, I drink to thee. Yea, and if thou wilt repent, and come to -Confession, I will absolve thee: but large penance thou must have!” At -Henley, Campion saw in the crowd Fr. Parsons’ servant, and greeted him -as he could, without betraying him: Fr. Parsons was near at hand, but -was wisely kept indoors. A young priest, “Mr. Filby the younger,” as he -was called, a native of Oxford, is said to have here attempted to speak -to Campion; he was at once seized upon as a traitorous “comforter of -Jesuits,” and added to the cavalcade. At Colebrook, less than a dozen -miles from London, came fresh instructions from the Council. Sheriff -Forster had treated his prisoners most honourably: they were now to be -made a public show. Their elbows were tied from behind, their wrists -roped together in front, and their feet fastened under the horses; -their leader was decorated with a paper pinned to his hat—Fr. Parsons’ -hat of late—on which in large lettering was inscribed: “Campion, -the Seditious Jesuit.” And in this guise he was paraded through the -chief streets of the great city on market-day. The mob roared with -delight; “but the wiser sort,” says Holinshed, “lamented to see the -land fallen to such barbarism as to abuse in this manner a gentleman -famous throughout Europe for his scholarship and his innocency of life, -and this before any trial, or any proof against him, his case being -prejudged, and he punished as if already condemned.” Stephen Brinkley -somehow obtained, as a souvenir of a fellow-prisoner, that thick dark -felt hat, which had been so ignominiously labelled in the cause of -Christ. Years afterwards, when in Belgium, he put it into a reliquary, -“out of love and veneration towards that most holy martyr of God, his -father and patron.” A piece of it is at Roehampton, in the Jesuit -Noviciate. - -On reaching the Tower the Lyford captives were given up to the -Governor, Sir Owen Hopton. Taking his cue, he had Campion thrust at -once into Little Ease, the famous Tower hole not high enough for a man -to stand upright in, nor long enough for him to lie down in. After -four days of this misery he was suddenly taken out, put in a boat at -the Traitors’ Gate steps, and rowed to the town house of the Earl of -Leicester. This nobleman and Edmund Campion, who had seen so much of -each other for several years, had been placed by events in silent -conflict. There stood the Earl of Bedford, with two Secretaries of -State; there stood Campion’s host, who, for one reason or another, had -never hounded Catholics with the fixed fury of Walsingham and Burghley, -and thereby did not displease his irresolute royal mistress; there (a -theatrical circumstance!) was that royal mistress herself, a gleaming -stately vision in a great chair, head and front of a not unfriendly -little inquisition. To the questions heaped upon him Campion gave -frank answers. On the matter of “allegiance” he seemed to satisfy the -company, who told him there was no fault in him save that he was a -Papist. “That,” he modestly interrupted, “is my greatest glory.” The -Queen smiled upon him, and offered him liberty and honours, but under -conditions which his conscience forbade him to accept. - -When he was courteously dismissed, Leicester, probably with a kind -motive, sent a message to Hopton to keep up the flatteries of the new -policy. Hopton put on an almost affectionate consideration for his -important prisoner; and so fast as he was prompted, by artful degrees, -he suggested to him a pension, a high place at Court, and even the -promise eventually of the mitre and revenues of the primatial See of -Canterbury! Well did the Council know, all along, the value of these -stubborn and unpurchasable confessors of Christ. To cap the matter, -in Campion’s case, it was publicly announced, both by Hopton and by -Walsingham (who knew the untruth of their announcement), that the -Jesuit was at the point of recantation and Protestant orthodoxy, and -in full sight of the future Archbishopric, “to the great content of -the Queen.” It flew all over London that he would presently preach at -Paul’s Cross, and there burn the _Decem Rationes_ with his own hand. -Eventually Hopton returned to first principles indoors, and inquired -point-blank of Campion whether he would give up his religion, and -conform. The reply is easily imagined. A continued course of wheedling -was wasteful business. So thought the Council; and three days after -his strange and sudden sight of the Queen’s Grace at Leicester House, -Edmund Campion, first kneeling down at the door and invoking the -Holy Name for steadying of his manhood, was stripped and fastened -to the rollers of the Tower rack. Blandishments had failed to move -him; they would try mortal pain, and see what that could do. Torture, -nevertheless, was as much against the laws of England then (though not -against the laws of some less humane countries), as it is now. - - - - -XII - -THE THICK OF THE FRAY: 1581 - - -CAMPION, in between the working of the rollers, was asked his opinion -of certain political utterances in the works of his old friends Allen -and Bristow, and of Dr. Sander; also whether he considered the Queen -“true and lawful,” or “pretensed and deprived.” He refused to answer. -Physical anguish could be little worse than the ineffable boredom of -these two never-quiet questions. He was then asked by the Governor, -the Rackmaster, and others present, by whose command and counsel he -had returned to England; by whom in England he had been received and -befriended; in whose houses he had said Mass, heard Confessions, and -reconciled persons to his Church; where his recent book was printed, -and to whom copies were given; lastly, what was his opinion of the -Bull of Pius V against Queen Elizabeth? A letter written at the time to -Lord Shrewsbury by Lord Burghley, and still extant, shows that nothing -of moment could be got out of Campion. During the next fortnight, -however, there was poured into the ear of the Government information -regarding the second and third items in the above category. Houses were -searched; persons of mark were apprehended, tried in the Star Chamber, -and sentenced. Almost every manse or town house where Campion had been -harboured became known, and even the names of those Oxford Masters of -Arts who had followed him to Lyford. The Government gave out that he -had confessed upon the rack, and implicated his too trusting friends. -The alleged facts naturally became a general scandal, and bred grief -and horror among the Catholics who, no less than Protestants, were -thus driven to believe them. The secrets were probably given up, under -panic, by three serving-men, and by poor Gervase Pierrepoint. It was -a common trick of the time, though not peculiar to it, to show a -prisoner a lying list of names purporting to have been extracted from -colleagues, so that he himself might be trapped into endorsing the -suspicions held in regard to those names. But it is clear that Campion -was brought to mention only a few who, as he was aware, were formerly -known to his examiners as Catholic Recusants; and only after a solemn -oath from the Commissioners that no harm could accrue to them in -consequence of such supplementary mention. Even this he had every cause -to regret. The gentlemen and gentlewomen on Lord Burghley’s lists were -carefully informed, when arrested, that it was Campion who had betrayed -them: a cruel slander which he could refute only at the foot of the -scaffold. Thanks to the reports, first of his backsliding, then of his -treachery, his great reputation, for the time being, was clean gone. -Having thus been given forth to the public as a knave, he was now to be -set before them as a fool, and shown to be one who possessed neither -sort of superiority, moral or mental. - -[Illustration: Campion before Queen Elizabeth. _p. 138._] - -Many courtiers, having a purely artistic interest in Edmund Campion, -had begged that he might obtain the chance he had often asked for, of -being heard in a disputation. This request was now suddenly granted. -The conference was public, and came off in the Norman Chapel of the -Tower, which was crowded. Two Deans, Nowell of St. Paul’s, and Day -of Windsor, were appointed to attack Campion; he was to answer all -objections as he could, but was forbidden to raise any of his own. -Charke, the bitter Puritan preacher of Gray’s Inn, and Whitaker, the -Regius Professor of Divinity in Cambridge, were the notaries. The lion -to be baited did not even know that there was to be a conference, until -he was brought to it under a strong guard. Time for preparation had -been denied him; he was allowed the use of only such authorities as his -memory could furnish; pale and weary and rack-worn as he was, he was -given only a low stool to sit upon. The well-fed theological worthies -were ranged before him, their chairs standing on raised platforms, and -their tables spread with books of reference, pens and paper. - -One who was there tells us how easy and ready were his answers; how -modest his mien; how that high-spirited nature so bore the scorn, -the abuse, and the jests heaped upon him, as to win great admiration -from the majority of those who heard him for the first time. He began -by asking very pertinently whether this was a just answer to his -challenge, first to rack him, then to deprive him of books, notes and -pen, lastly, to call upon him to debate? and he added (wishing to be -fully understood by the audience), that what he had asked for was -quite another sort of hearing: a hearing under equal conditions before -the Universities. During the course of this first conference he was -twice most unfairly tripped up: once over a quotation, in which he was -right, though he could not then and there prove it; and again over a -page of the Greek Testament, in such small type that he could not read -it, and had to put it by when it was handed to him: thereby drawing -down upon himself the ridiculous taunt that he knew no Greek. This -he took silently, and with a smile. At the end of the six hours he -had more than stood his ground. The Deans complained afterwards that -a number of gentlemen present, “neither unlearned nor ill-affected,” -considered that Master Campion had the best of it. Some common people -who thought so too, and said so in the streets, paid dearly for their -boldness. One of these gentlemen favourably impressed was Philip, Earl -of Arundel, then in the flush of worldly pride and pleasure. He was the -real victory of the Jesuit apostle, for he received at that time and -in that place the first ray of divine grace, strong enough to change -gradually in him the whole motive and course of that intensity of life -which never failed the Howards. As he stood leaning forward in the -foreground of the daïs, in that solemn interior, tall and young, with -his great ruff and embroidered doublet, and his brilliant dark eyes -held by the pathetic figure of Master Campion, how little could he have -foreseen his own weary term of suffering in that gloomy fortress, and -his sainted death there, at the end of the years! - -There were three other conferences under like conditions, but in other -quarters, with four fresh adversaries. Campion was again “appointed -only to answer, never to oppose”; that is, to answer miscellaneous and -disjointed objections against the Catholic Church, without ever being -allowed “to build up any harmonious apology for his own system.” The -last conference was notable for its browbeating and threatening of a -too successful adversary. The Bishop of London privately came to the -conclusion that the verbal tournament was doing no good whatever to the -sacred cause of Protestantism. The Council agreed, and ended it. - -Towards the end of October Campion was racked for the third time, and -with the utmost severity, so that he thought they meant, this time, -to kill him; but his fortitude was unshaken. A rough and honest first -cousin to the Queen, Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, growled that it were -easier to pluck the heart out of Campion’s breast than to wrest from -him one word against his conscience. His arms and legs went quite numb -after this final torture. The keeper, who was won over by his endearing -prisoner, and was always as gentle with him as he dared to be, inquired -next day how they felt. “Not ill,” said Father Edmund, with all of his -old brave brightness, “not ill, because not at all!” - -Never once until now had he been accused of any conspiracy. But he -was a troublesome person: he must be silenced somehow. With a tardy -inspiration, the Council bent all their strength to get out of Campion -some acknowledgment that he had been mixed up with the Spanish-Roman -expedition, and the Irish rising of the preceding year. Not a shadow -of proof could, of course, be produced for such a charge. Then, as a -final and sure means of indicting him on some other count than that -of religion, and of urging his execution upon the Queen, Walsingham, -with Burghley’s connivance, hatched a treasonable plot out of his own -inventive head, and got false witnesses to accuse Edmund Campion -of it, and swear his life away. The “Plot of Rheims and Rome” was -described as an attempt to raise a sedition, and dethrone and kill -the Queen. It had an imaginary but recent date: 1580. Everybody or -anybody, when found convenient, could be accused of so elastic a plot. -It was first charged against some twenty priests and laymen in this -year 1581; but it was brought up against the Earl of Arundel four years -afterwards, despite the fact that the supposed interests of the Church -were the last things likely to win his attention at the time assigned. - -On All Saints’ Day arrived in England a suitor for the hand of Queen -Elizabeth: Francis, Duke of Alençon, King of the Netherlands, the -short-lived heir to the throne of King Henry the Third of France. With -that King, while Duke of Anjou, and with Alençon for nine years past -(as for three yet to come), Elizabeth had carried on negotiations which -ended in smoke; but she now announced that she “would marry at last.” -Little Froggy, as she endearingly called him, was ugly to a degree, -and many years younger than her Majesty; he was brother-in-law to -the Queen of Scots, who was her Majesty’s prisoner at Sheffield. The -dominant, ultra-bigoted party took extreme alarm at the near prospect -of toleration for Catholics which such a royal match suggested to -them. To reassure them, it might just now be most useful, thought the -Council, to hang a Jesuit or two. - -On the 14th of the month Campion and eight others were arraigned before -the grand jury in Westminster Hall. For “treasonable intents” of the -Queen’s deprivation and murder, these “secret and privy practices of -sinister devices,” befitting one “led astray by the devil,” had “Edmund -Campion, clerk,” made his re-entry into England, the Pope, meanwhile, -being not only aware of his act, but its “author and onsetter”! He was -commanded, as were all those lumped with him in a common accusation, -to plead Guilty or Not Guilty. Up went all the right arms of these -“devotaries, and dead men to this world, who travelled only for souls,” -as Campion himself called them: all but his, so disabled by the rack -that he could not stir it from the furred cuff in which it lay. But a -quick-witted comrade turned and took off the cuff, “humbly kissing the -sacred hands so wrung for the confession of Christ,” and lifted it high -to cry its own mute Not Guilty with the rest. The Spanish Ambassador, -Don Bernardino de Mendoza, standing close by with his secretary, saw, -with a pang of pity, that all the finger-nails were gone from Campion’s -swollen hands. The trial proper began on the 20th, before “such a -presence of people of the more honourable, wise, learned, and best sort -as was never seen or heard of in that court in ours or our fathers’ -memories before us ... so wonderful an expectation there was to see the -end of this marvellous tragedy ... [of] such as they knew in conscience -to be innocent.” They all heard Ralph Sherwin say, in a loud clear -voice: “The plain ground of our standing here is religion, and not -treason.” - -Chief Justice Wray presided, a Catholic at heart, and wretched ever -after over this unwilling day’s work. The prosecuting officers for the -Crown were the Queen’s serjeant, Edmund Anderson; Popham, afterwards -Chief Justice; and Egerton, afterwards the first Lord Ellesmere. The -chief witnesses were George Eliot, Anthony Munday, and two creatures -named Sledd and Caddy: probably as evil a quartette as existed in -contemporary England, and worthy forerunners of Oates and Bedloe. -“They had nothing left to swear by,” as Campion reminded the jury: -“neither religion nor honesty.” In no special order, but with much -ardour and diligence, all the old tiresome trivial accusations were -brought forward and pressed in, Campion being spokesman throughout for -the defence, and his alert mind, despite his weakened body, meeting -them all, and routing them. He was charged with having “seduced the -Queen’s subjects from their allegiance” ... and “reconciled them -to the Pope.” He caught up the word. “We ‘reconcile’ them to the -Pope! Nay, then, what reconciliation can there be to him, since -reconciliation is only due to God? This word [‘reconcile’] soundeth not -to a lawyer’s usage, and therefore is wrested against us inaptly. The -reconciliation that we endeavoured was only to God: as Peter saith, -_reconciliamini Domino_, be ye reconciled unto the Lord.” Campion was -informed: “Yourself came as Procurator from the Pope and Dr. Allen, -to break these matters to the English Papists.” So he rejoined that -in his homeward voyage from Rome, undertaken by his vow of obedience -as a Jesuit, “the which accordingly I enterprised, being commanded -thereto,” he had “dined with Dr. Allen at Rheims, with whom also -after dinner I walked in his garden ... and not one jot of our talk -glanced to the Crown or State of England.... As to the [Pope], he -flatly with charge and commandment excused me from matters of State -and regiment.” ... Followed a change of tactics. “Afterclaps make -those excuses but shadows.... For what meaning had that changing of -your name? Whereto belonged your disguising in apparel? What pleasure -had you to royst it [in] a velvet hat and a feather, a buff leather -jerkin, and velvet venetians?... Can that beseem a professed man of -religion which hardly becometh a layman of gravity? No: there was -a further matter intended.... Had you come hither for love of your -country, you would never have wrought a hugger-mugger; had your intent -been to have done well, you would never have hated the light.” To which -Campion replied that St. Paul, in order “that living he might benefit -the Church more than dying,” betook himself “to sundry shifts ... but -that especially the changing of his name was very oft and familiar” ... -and that “he sometimes thought it expedient to be hidden, lest, being -discovered, persecution should ensue thereby, and the gospel be greatly -forestalled.... If these shifts were then approved in Paul, why are -they now reproved in me?—he an Apostle, I a Jesuit ... the same cause -common to us both.... I wished earnestly the planting of the gospel; I -knew a contrary religion professed; I saw if I were known I should be -apprehended. I changed my name, I kept secretly: I imitated Paul. Was I -therein a traitor?... The wearing of a buff jerkin, a velvet hat, and -suchlike, is much forced against me.... I am not indicted upon the -Statute of Apparel!... Indeed, I acknowledge an offence to Godwards for -so doing, and thereof it doth grievously repent me, and [I] therefore -do now penance, as you see me.” This charming rejoinder (again, how -More-like!) was in allusion to his rough gown of Irish frieze, and a -huge black nightcap covering half of his newly shaven face. - -After all this mere hectoring, some pieces of “evidence” were -produced. One of these was an intercepted letter which Campion -himself had written from the Tower after his first and comparatively -moderate racking, while it was still possible to use his hands; it -was addressed to the admirable and truly holy, but fussy, Mr. Thomas -Pounde, who, wild with alarm at the pretended “betrayals,” had written -to remonstrate with Fr. Campion. The Queen’s Counsel now read this -passage from Campion’s humble reply: “It grieveth me much to have -offended the Catholic cause so highly as to confess the names of some -gentlemen and friends in whose houses I had been entertained. Yet in -this I greatly cherish and comfort myself: that I never discovered any -secrets there declared; and that I will not, come rack, come rope!” The -comment of the reader in court was an obvious one. “What can sound more -suspiciously or nearer unto treason than this letter?... It must needs -be some grievous matter and very pernicious, that neither rack nor -rope can wring from him!” But Campion’s even more obvious answer was -that there he spoke as one “by profession and calling a priest,” vowed -to silence in regard to what was made known in the Confessional, and -yet pressed, on the rack, to divulge secrets thus communicated to him. -“These were the hidden matters ... in concealing of which I so greatly -rejoiced, to the revealing whereof I cannot nor will not be brought, -come rack, come rope!” Well chosen was this answer of Campion’s. It has -been pointed out that if he had stated here that he had told on no one -who was not already found out, he would have loosed the informers and -man-hunters afresh on the whole Catholic community, until his other -friends, who had not been found out, were run down. Instead of that he -drew off attention by reminding the court that he could not repeat what -had been sacramentally confided to him. Most of his hearers were either -Catholic or had been Catholic, and acquiesced. He spoke truth, but he -skipped explanations: and such is, more often than not, the highest -wisdom in this complex world. - -There were now read out certain papers containing oaths to be -administered to persons ready to renounce their obedience to her -Majesty, and to be sworn of the Papal allegiance alone. These were -said to have been found in houses where “Campion had lurked, and for -religion been entertained;” hence they were of his composing. He -objected that the administering of oaths was repugnant to him, and -exceeded his authority: “neither would I commit an offence so thwart -to my profession, for all the substance and treasure in the world.” -He went on to say (assuming for his purpose that the precious papers -were not forged, though they really were so), that there was no proof -of their connection with himself, nor was it even pretended that they -were in his handwriting. Anderson replied with singular perversity or -dulness: “You, a professed Papist, coming to a house and then such -reliques found after your departure—how can it otherwise be implied -but that you did both bring them and leave them there? So it is flat -they came there by means of a Papist: _ergo_, by your means!” The -logician in Campion dashed to the fore. Could it be shown that no other -Papist ever visited that house but himself? If not, they were urging -a conclusion before framing a minor! which is imperfect, he added, -and proves nothing. Apparently Serjeant Anderson was sufficiently -enraged by now. His highly judicial retort is on record. “If here, as -you do in Schools, you bring in your minor and conclusion, you will -prove yourself but a fool. But minor or conclusion, I will bring it -to purpose anon!” Eliot then rose as witness, and gave his account of -the Sunday sermon at Lyford: how Master Campion spoke of enormities in -England, and of a day of change soon coming, welcome to the shaken -and dispersed Catholics, but dreadful to the heretical masters of the -land. “What day should that be,” broke in the Queen’s Counsel, “but -that wherein the Pope, the King of Spain, and the Duke of Florence have -appointed to invade this realm?” Campion turned his eyes on Eliot. -“Oh, Judas, Judas!... As in all other Christian commonwealths, so in -England, many vices and iniquities do abound ... whereupon, as in every -pulpit every Protestant doth, I pronounced a great day, not wherein -any temporal potentate should minister, but wherein the terrible Judge -should reveal all men’s consciences and try every man.... Any other -day than this, God He knows I meant not.” So much for the astonishing -“evidence” of this most astonishing of all trials, one only, under -Pontius Pilate, excepted. - -[Illustration: “Not Guilty!” _p. 151._] - -The chief count against the defendant was the old, old one of the Bull -of Deposition, and the denied authority of the Queen in spirituals: -that wretched family skeleton trotted out once more! “You refused to -swear to the Supremacy, a notorious token of an evil willer to the -Crown.” Campion, who was surely what Antony Wood quaintly calls him, -“a sweete Disposition, and a well-polish’d Man,” stated his position -once more, lucidly, and with perfect temper. He began by referring to -what passed at the Earl of Leicester’s London house. “Not long since -it pleased her Majesty to demand of me whether I did acknowledge her -to be my Queen or no. I answered that I did acknowledge her Highness -not only as my Queen, but also as my most lawful governess. And being -further required by her Majesty whether I thought the Pope might -lawfully excommunicate her or no, I answered: ‘I confess myself an -insufficient umpire between her Majesty and the Pope for so high a -controversy, whereof neither the certainty is yet known, nor the best -divines in Christendom stand fully resolved!... I acknowledge her -Highness as my governor and sovereign; I acknowledge her Majesty both -in fact and by right to be Queen; I confess an obedience due to the -Crown as to my temporal head and primate.’ This I said then; so I say -now. If then I failed in aught, I am now ready to supply it. What would -you more? I will willingly pay to her Majesty what is hers; yet I -must pay to God what is His. Then as for excommunicating her Majesty, -it was exacted of me (admitting that excommunication were of effect, -and that the Pope had sufficient authority so to do), whether then I -thought myself discharged of my allegiance or no? I said that this -was a dangerous question, and that they that demanded this demanded -my blood. Admitting (why admitting?) I would admit his authority, and -then he should excommunicate her, I would then do as God should give -me grace: but I never admitted any such matter, neither ought I to -be wrested with any such suppositions.” To all this no rejoinder was -made. It was the identical position taken up by many another harassed -martyr. The prosecution next turned to the remaining prisoners, using -the same weak, wrong, skirmishing tactics,—Campion often putting in -a word to hearten one, to defend another, to guide a third. At a -certain point he exclaimed: “So great are the treasons that I and the -others have wrought, that the gaoler who has us in charge told me at -night that would we but go to the Anglican services they would pardon -us straightway!” Serrano, who reports this, adds: “They answered -things in general.” At the close of the proceedings, their issue being -prearranged, Campion was allowed to make a speech to the jurors. He -eloquently begged them to seek for certainties, and to remember the -character of the “evidence” brought before them. Alas! he was appealing -to bought men, who dared not be true. - -The pleadings had taken three hours; the jury deliberated, or seemed to -do so, for an hour or more. Public opinion in the Hall, as at the Tower -conferences, was overwhelmingly in favour of Campion. But “the poor -twelve,” as Allen calls them, came back, fearful to be found “no friend -of Cæsar,” bringing in a verdict against the whole company as “guilty -of the said treasons and conspiracies.” The Lord Chief Justice spoke: -“Campion, and the rest, what can you say why you should not die?” Then -Campion broke out into a brief appeal to the future and the past, a -lyric strain such as was not often heard beneath those ancient rafters, -so sadly used to the spectacle of noble hearts in jeopardy. “It was -not our death that ever we feared! But we knew that we were not lords -of our own lives, and therefore for want of answer would not be guilty -of our own deaths. The only thing that we have now to say is, that if -our religion do make 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 the ancient -priests, Bishops and Kings: all that was once the glory of England, -the Island of Saints, and the most devoted child of the See of 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 -with these old lights, not of England only, but of the world, by their -degenerate descendants, is both gladness and glory to us! God lives. -Posterity will live. Their judgment is not so liable to corruption as -that of those who are now going to sentence us to death.” After which -the Lord Chief Justice pronounced the formula in use for all prisoners -condemned to capital punishment. “Ye must go to the place whence ye -came, there to remain until ye shall be drawn through the open city of -London upon hurdles to the place of execution, and there be hanged and -let down alive ... and your entrails taken out and burnt in your sight; -then your heads to be cut off, and your bodies to be divided in four -parts, to be disposed of at her Majesty’s pleasure. And may God have -mercy on your souls!” Some of the company raised a storm of protest, -but Campion’s voice rose above theirs, crying: “We praise Thee, O God!” -Sherwin seconded him with the shouted anthem of Eastertide: “This is -the day that the Lord hath made: let us rejoice and be glad therein!” -Like expressions of triumph were presently taken up, to the amazement -of bystanders. Then the doomed men were parted, and were all taken -away, Edmund Campion being put in a barge on the Thames, and rowed back -to the Tower, where he was heavily shackled with irons, and left alone. - - - - -XIII - -VICTORY: DECEMBER 1, 1581 - - -EVEN thus late, fresh proffers were made to buy Campion over to the -State religion. Such a circumstance, as he had claimed previously, is -in itself a plain disproof of any treason. Hopton, who hated him, sent -Campion’s own sister to him with the repeated offer of a very rich -benefice. To the cell door came one day none other than George Eliot, -saying that he would never have trapped Fr. Edmund, had he thought -that anything worse than imprisonment could be in store. He also told -the man of God whom he had wronged past reparation that he stood in -danger from the wrath of the Catholics, and feared their reprisals for -his late actions. Campion persuaded him that they would never push -revenge so far as to seek his life, but added that if Eliot were truly -repentant he should have a letter of recommendation to a Catholic Duke -in Germany, who would employ and protect him. Delahays, the keeper, in -the discharge of his office, had to stand close to the prisoner during -this interview, and what he heard sank into his mind and made him a -convert. Outside the Tower, there was a ferment of excitement over -this one of its inmates, and over the question whether the indignation -of all Europe should be braved by carrying out his sentence. The Earl -of Desmond, the accessory, and Dr. Sanders, the co-principal, of the -late revolt in western Ireland, were still hiding in woods and caves, -and weathering the hardships which were to be dismally ended for both -during the coming spring. Burghley concisely said, in the finest -Elizabethan spirit of punishing somebody—no great matter whom—when any -row was made, that “Campion and Sanders were in the same boat, and as -they could not catch Sanders, they must hang Campion instead.” The -princely visitor was still at Court, and high festival went on from -day to day. The preoccupation of the Queen with him and his affairs -was thought to be an excellent item of the programme, as it kept her -from thinking of Campion and his fate. Delay was dreaded as a means -of getting together of the great English nobles, and the foreign -ambassadors, with petitions for Campion’s release; and it was thought -that the Queen would never resist any strongly-worded request which so -corroborated her own supposed secret feeling. The Council still thought -his destruction desirable. Meanwhile, instant appeal was made to the -Duke, by the Catholics generally, to use his influence in Campion’s -behalf: he promised to intercede for him, and may have done so. At the -last moment further pressure was brought to bear. His confessor was -sent into the tennis court, where the Duke was about to begin a game, -with this message: that the royal blood of France would be disgraced -for ever, if so foul a judicial murder were not checked. The little -great personage, thus accosted, as we are told by Bombino, stroked his -face absent-mindedly with his left hand; then raised his right hand, -with the racket in it, and called to one opposite to him: “Play!” Not -another word did he answer to the tragic matter so thrust upon him. - -Burghley fixed upon November 25, a Saturday, as the date for Campion’s -execution. Sherwin was appointed to die in his company, as representing -the Seminary at Rheims. They were taken together one day into the -Lieutenant’s Hall to face some endless argument or other. The opponent, -“by report of such as stood by, was never so holden up to the wall in -his life.” On the way back to their cells, under guard, they crossed -one of the Tower courts. “Ah, Father Campion!” said his young comrade, -smiling at the welcome London sun, “I shall shortly be above yon -fellow.” Even one hurried free breath of fresh air must have meant much -to Campion. To be “clapped up a close prisoner,” as he had been from -the first, meant that his windows were blocked, and their minimum of -air strained through a narrow slanted funnel, latticed at its skyward -end, and with but one tiny pane occasionally opened at the bottom. But -these things, humanly intolerable, counted for little on the threshold -of light and liberty everlasting. “Delay of our death doth somewhat -dull me,” wrote Sherwin, touchingly, to a friend. “Truth it is, I -had hoped ere this, casting off this body of death, to have kissed -the precious, glorified wounds of my sweet Saviour, sitting in the -Throne of His Father’s own glory.” There was a good deal of haggling -and hesitation on the subject. By statute law any caught priest was -hangable; but public opinion (as Simpson reminds us in a brilliant -page) did not always run with the statute law. Moreover, Camden says -expressly that the Queen (who is supposed to have supervised and -approved all he wrote) did not believe in the “treasons” charged to the -“silly priests.” It is remarkable that the first defensive pamphlet put -forth by the Government after Campion’s death, was one “in which the -plot of Rheims and Rome was prudently forgotten—the very matter of the -indictment!” - -By the time the day for the execution was finally set for Friday, the -first of December, a third priest had been chosen from the waiting -batch of victims, as representing the English College at Rome. This -was the Blessed Alexander Briant, who had applied from his prison -cell for admission into the Society of Jesus, a fact not known to his -persecutors. If the entry of his age in the Oxford Matriculation Lists -be correct (as is most likely), he was now only in his twenty-sixth -year. He was grave and gentle in character, full of charm, and of the -most extraordinary personal beauty. He had been carried off in the -course of a descent on Fr. Parsons’ London rooms, starved and parched -in the Marshalsea, tortured by needles, and kept in the entire darkness -of deep dungeons in the Tower. Norton, the Rackmaster, on three -occasions, proceeded (in his own phrase) to “make him a foot longer -than God made him,” yet he adds that “he stood still with express -refusal that he would tell the truth.” The “truth” meant information of -the whereabouts of Fr. Parsons, a former tutor and devoted friend, and -of the place where Parsons’ books were being printed. Briant had been -condemned the day after Campion’s trial, in Westminster Hall, where his -angelic looks, out-lasting a hell of almost unique torment, did not -pass unnoticed by the public. Here (though some accounts say it was -at the scaffold) he carried in the palm of his hand, and gazed upon -often, a little cross of rough wood which he had managed to whittle -in his cell, and on which he had traced an outline in charcoal of the -figure of the Crucified. Pedro Serrano, the secretary of the Spanish -Ambassador, saw it taken away from Briant, and heard him say: “You can -wrest it from my hand, but never from my heart.” Not long afterwards -George Gilbert died in Italy, kissing Blessed Alexander’s little cross, -which he must have taken pains to buy back. - -These three, Fathers Campion, Sherwin, and Briant, were led forth on -a bitter morning, and bound to their hurdles, in the rain, outside -the Tower gates. Campion’s life for the past week had been nothing -but fasting, watching and prayer, and he was never in more gallant -spirits. “God save you all, gentlemen!” so he saluted the crowd, on -first coming out: “God bless you all, and make you all good Catholics!” -The two younger men were strapped down on one hurdle side by side, -Campion alone on the other. The mud was thick in the unpaved streets -of London, and the double span of horses, each flat hurdle being tied -to two tails, went at a great pace through Cheapside, Newgate Street, -and Holborn. There were intervals, however, when the jolted and bemired -prisoners were able to speak with their sympathizers, who surged in -upon them, and thus saved them for the moment from the incessant -annoyance of Charke and other accompanying fanatics. Some asked Fr. -Campion’s blessing; some spoke in his ear matters of conscience; one -gentleman courteously bent down and wiped the priest’s bespattered -face: “for which charity, or haply some sudden-moved affection, may God -reward him!” says one annalist who saw the kind deed done. - -The New Gate spanned the street where the prison named after it stood -until yesterday; and in a niche of the New Gate was still a statue of -Our Lady: this Fr. Campion reverenced, raising his head and his bound -body, as best he could, as he passed under. The three martyrs were -seen to be smiling, nay, laughing, and the people commented with wonder -on their light-heartedness. A mile or so of sheer country at the end -of the road, and Tyburn was at hand, stark against a cloudy sky, with -a vast crowd waiting to see the sacrifice: “more than three thousand -horse,” says Serrano, in the contemporary letter already quoted, “and -an infinite number of souls.” And he goes on, in the truest Catholic -temper, speaking for himself, the Ambassador, and their little circle, -to say, “there was no one of us who had not envy of their death.” Just -as the hurdles halted, the sudden sun shone out and lit up the gallows -with its hanging halters. Fr. Campion was set upon his feet, put into -the hangman’s cart, driven under the triangular beams, and told to put -his head into the noose. This the first martyr of the English Jesuits -did with all meekness. Then, “with grave countenance and sweet voice,” -he began to speak, as he supposed he was to be allowed to do, according -to custom. He took the text of St. Paul: “We are made a spectacle -unto the world, and to angels, and to men: we are fools for Christ’s -sake.” Sir Francis Knowles and other officials promptly interrupted -him, and reminded him to confess his treason. So once more he must -needs say: “I desire you all to bear witness with me that I am thereof -altogether innocent.... I am a Catholic man and a priest: in that faith -have I lived, and in that faith do I intend to die. If you esteem my -religion treason, then am I guilty. As for other treason, I never -committed any: God is my judge.” He spoke of the names which he had -been hoodwinked into confessing, and protested that all the “secrets” -held back were spiritual confidences, and that there were no “secrets” -of another nature between his hosts and him; he also put in a plea for -one Richardson, imprisoned on account of the _Decem Rationes_, whereas -he knew nothing whatever of that book. He then tried to pray. But a -school-master with lungs, named Hearne, hastily stepped forward and -read a novel proclamation, first and last of its kind, declaring in -the Queen’s name that these men about to be executed were perishing -not for religion but for treason. Diligent reassertion, in those days, -seems to have established anything as a fact! - -The lords and sheriffs present reverted to “the bloody question”: -what did Master Campion think of the Bull of Pius Quintus and the -excommunication of the Queen? and would he renounce the Pope of Rome? -He answered wearily that he was a Catholic. One voice shouted: “In -your Catholicism all treason is contained!” A minister came forward -to bid the martyr pray with him, but with marked gentleness was -denied his will. “You and I are not one in religion: wherefore, I -pray you, content yourself. I bar none of prayer, but I only desire -them of the Household of Faith to pray with me, and in mine agony to -say one Creed.” The Creed was chosen “to signify that he died for the -confession of the Catholic and Apostolic Faith.” He endeavoured again -to pray, probably using aloud the words of some of the Vulgate Psalms -or ritual hymns, when a spectator called out angrily to him to pursue -his devotions in English. “I will pray unto God,” answered Campion, -with all himself in the answer, “in a language which we both well -understand!” He was again interrupted, and ordered to ask forgiveness -of the Queen, and to pray for her. But his sweetness and patience held -out till the last. “Wherein have I offended her? In this am I innocent: -this is my last speech: in this give me credit. I have and do pray for -her.” “Pray you for Queen—Elizabeth?” was the insinuating query, made -often, and answered often, as here. Campion said: “Yea, for Elizabeth, -your Queen and my Queen, unto whom I wish a long, quiet reign, with all -prosperity.” He had barely finished this emphatic sentence when the -cart was drawn away. The multitude with one accord swayed and groaned. -Somebody in authority (one account names the Chamberlain of the Royal -Household, Lord Howard of Effingham) mercifully forbade the hangman -to cut the rope until he was quite dead. That other rope with which -Campion was bound Parsons managed to buy, and he had it laid about his -own neck when he came to die, in 1610. It is now at Stonyhurst: a -thin, frayed old cord some twelve feet long. - -Close to the quartering-block stood a spectator, a young gallant of -twenty-three, eldest son of a Norfolk house, who had great gifts of -mind, and was given to writing verses: his name was Henry Walpole. He -was a Catholic, though, it would seem, a worldly one. His generous -instincts of humanity, however, had led him to befriend hunted priests; -and a love of Campion, in particular, was already kindled in him -through this association. As the executioner threw the severed limbs of -a blessed soul into the great smoking cauldron, to parboil them before -they were stuck on spikes, according to sentence, a few drops were -splashed out upon Henry Walpole’s doublet. The incident roused his mind -and pierced his heart, and was to him the instant cry of his vocation. -Like many another spiritual son of Blessed Edmund Campion (and nearer -to him than they, because he entered the Society), he was granted the -glory of following him, through faults of his own, through innumerable -hardships, and through martyrdom at York, in April, 1595, into the -peace of Paradise. - -Meanwhile the hangman had seized the second victim, saying: “Come, -Sherwin! take thou also thy wages.” That manly man looked upon the bare -bloody arm of the other, and eager to show some public veneration of -his sainted leader, first bent forward and kissed it; then he leaped -into the cart. Young Briant presently endured death for the Faith -with an even calmer courage. The populace, much wrought up over all -three, went home, through the winter mists, in tears. Most of them who -had prejudices against the Church lost them for good; and very many -straightway entered her communion. - -The Government sent forth publication after publication in lame -defence of its action. Soon France, Austria, Italy, were inundated -with accounts of the event; these everywhere produced the deepest -impression. At home, a great tidal wave of conversion to the old Church -swept in. - -Campion’s death, last and best of his wonderful missionary labours, -bore the most astonishing fruit. The long storm of persecution raged -at its full fierceness after 1581, and it burst over the heads not only -of a far more numerous, but a far more heroic body. Edmund Campion’s -spirit had been built in good time, as it were, into the unsteady wall. - -Robert Parsons had an intense feeling for his first comrade-in-arms. -“I understand of the advancement and exaltation of my dear brother -Mr. Campion, and his fellows. Our Lord be blessed for it! it is -the joyfullest news in one respect that ever came to my heart.” -This same feeling breaks out with powerful irony, addressing the -“Geneva-coloured” clerics, who so long harassed the martyr-group -of 1581. “Their blood will, I doubt not, fight against your errors -and impiety many hundred years after you are passed from the world -altogether.... They are well bestowed upon you: you have used them to -the best.” - -And Allen, in a private letter, says on his part: “Ten thousand sermons -would not have published our apostolic faith and religion so winningly -as the fragrance of these victims, most sweet both to God and to men.” - -No remote mystic was Edmund Campion, but a man of his age, with -much endearing human circumstance about him and in him. Caring for -nothing but the things of the soul, he had yet caught the ear and the -eye of the nation. The tidings of his end meant much to many of the -great Elizabethans: not least personal was it, perhaps, to the lad -Shakespeare, whose father had been settled as a stout Recusant by the -Warwickshire ministrations of Parsons. - -An aged priest, Gregory Gunne, came up before the Council in 1585, his -thoughts and tongue too busy in Campion’s praise. The day would come, -he said, when a religious house would stand as a votive offering on -the spot where “the only man in England” had perished. There was still -no sign of such a thing when Mr. Richard Simpson’s great monograph -was first published, and that was twenty years before Pope Leo XIII -beatified the Blessed Edmund Campion on December 9, 1886. But now -there is a Convent with Perpetual Adoration in its little chapel, and -two bright English flags ever leaning against the altar, on that ground -of the London Tyburn: and is it wonderful that the vision of a worthier -memorial haunts the imagination of those who go there to pray for their -country? - -Blessed Edmund Campion was “a religious genius,” with a creative -spirituality given to few, even among the canonized children of -the Fold. But in his kinship with his place and time, his peculiar -gentleness, his scholarship lightly worn, his magic influence, his -fearless deed and flawless word, he was a great Elizabethan too. He had -sacrificed his fame and changed his career. He had spent himself for -a cause the world can never love, and by so doing he has courted the -ill-will of what passed for history, up to our own day. But no serious -student now mistakes the reason why his own England found no use for -her “diamond” other than the one strange use to which she put him. He -is sure at last of justice. In the Church, that name of his will have -a never-dying beauty, though it is not quite where it might have been -on the secular roll-call. To understand this is also to rejoice in it: -for why should we look to find there at all, those who are “hidden with -Christ in God”? - - THE END - - - BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. - - - - -The St. Nicholas Series - -EDITED BY THE REV. DOM BEDE CAMM, O.S.B. - - -LIST OF VOLUMES - - BARNABY BRIGHT. By REV. DAVID BEARNE, S.J. (2 vols.) - THE STORY OF BLESSED THOMAS MORE. By A NUN OF TYBURN CONVENT. - FATHER MATHEW. By KATHARINE TYNAN. - JEANNE D’ARC: THE MAID OF FRANCE. By C. M. ANTONY. - ST. THOMAS OF CANTERBURY. By REV. ROBERT HUGH BENSON. - VITTORINO DA FELTRE: A PRINCE OF TEACHERS. By A SISTER OF NOTRE DAME. - THE LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER. By REV. CYRIL MARTINDALE, S.J. - GABRIEL GARCIA MORENO. By the HON. MRS. MAXWELL-SCOTT. - CARDINAL WILLIAM ALLEN. By REV. DOM BEDE CAMM, O.S.B. - BLESSED EDMUND CAMPION. By LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY. - CARDINAL POLE. By J. M. STONE. - THE MAN’S HANDS. By REV. R. P. GARROLD, S.J. - THE STORY OF THE ENGLISH POPE. By F. M. STEELE. - MADGE-MAKE-THE-BEST-OF-IT. By M. E. FRANCIS. - FATHER DAMIEN OF MOLOKAI. By MAY QUINLAN. - - _Each volume is in Foolscap 8vo., and has Six Illustrations - reproduced by the three-colour process._ - - _Price per volume, 2s. net._ - - - - - * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber’s note: - -Obvious punctuation errors were corrected. - -Page 77, “Fowers” changed to “Flowers” (Little Flowers of Martyrdom) - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLESSED EDMUND CAMPION*** - - -******* This file should be named 52731-0.txt or 52731-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/2/7/3/52731 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/52731-0.zip b/old/52731-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 089cad1..0000000 --- a/old/52731-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52731-h.zip b/old/52731-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 640c6db..0000000 --- a/old/52731-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52731-h/52731-h.htm b/old/52731-h/52731-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index f922be8..0000000 --- a/old/52731-h/52731-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5714 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> -<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Blessed Edmund Campion, by Louise Imogen Guiney</title> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3,h4 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - .faux { - font-size: 0.5em; /*this font size could be anything */ - visibility: hidden;} - -p { - margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - text-indent: 1.25em; - margin-bottom: .75em; -} - - - .maintitle {font-size: 200%; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} - .author {font-size: 120%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} - .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} - div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} - .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} - .unindent {margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .75em; - text-indent: 0;} - - img {border: 0;} - .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; - padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; text-indent: 0;} - - .unindent {margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .75em; - text-indent: 0;} -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%} -hr.full {width: 95%;} - -ul.booklist { list-style-type: none; margin-left: 5%; } - - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry-container -{ - text-align: center; -} - -.poetry -{ - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; -} - -.poetry .stanza -{ - margin: 1em auto; -} - -.poetry .verse -{ - text-indent: -3em; - padding-left: 3em; -} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - text-indent: 0;} /* page numbers */ - - -.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.red {color: #8e061f;} -.caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 90%; text-indent: 0; color: #2b3c76;} -.attrib { font-size: 80%; text-align: right;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.figleft { - float: left; - clear: left; - margin-left: 0; - margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 1em; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; -} - -.figright { - float: right; - clear: right; - margin-left: 1em; - margin-bottom: - 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 0; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; -} - -/*Drop caps*/ -.drop-cap { - text-indent: 0em; - text-align: justify; -} -.drop-cap:first-letter -{ - float: left; - margin: 0.15em 0.1em 0em 0em; - font-size: 250%; - line-height:0.5em; -} - - -@media handheld -{ - .chapter - { - page-break-before: always; - } - - h2.no-break - { - page-break-before: avoid; - padding-top: 0; - } - - .poetry - { - display: block; - margin-left: 1.5em; - } - .drop-cap:first-letter - { - float: none; - margin: 0; - font-size: 100%; - } - - img.drop-cap - { - display: none; - } -} - - hr.pg { width: 100%; - margin-top: 3em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - height: 4px; - border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ - border-style: solid; - border-color: #000000; - clear: both; } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Blessed Edmund Campion, by Louise Imogen -Guiney, Illustrated by Durden James</h1> -<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: Blessed Edmund Campion</p> -<p>Author: Louise Imogen Guiney</p> -<p>Release Date: August 5, 2016 [eBook #52731]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLESSED EDMUND CAMPION***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4>E-text prepared by Emmy, MWS,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive<br /> - (<a href="https://archive.org">https://archive.org</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - <a href="https://archive.org/details/blessededmundcam00guinrich"> - https://archive.org/details/blessededmundcam00guinrich</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="pg" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<h1 class="faux">Blessed Edmund Campion</h1> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 474px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="474" height="800" alt="cover" /> -</div> -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 298px;"> -<img src="images/i-001-title.jpg" width="298" height="30" alt="The St. Nicholas Series" /> -</div> - - -<div class="center"><span class="smcap">Edited by the Rev. Dom Bede Camm, O.S.B.</span><br /> -——————————————————————————————</div> - -<div class="maintitle">BLESSED EDMUND<br /> -CAMPION</div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"><br /><br /> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 7em;">“Go seek thy peace in war:</span></div> -<div class="verse">Who falls for love of God, shall rise a star!”</div> -<div class="sig"><span class="smcap">Ben Jonson</span></div> -</div> -<br /><br /><br /><br /></div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 22px;"> -<img src="images/leaf.jpg" width="22" height="22" alt="leaf" /> -</div> - - -<hr class="full" /> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><b>Nihil Obstat.</b></div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 3.5em;"><span class="smcap">D. Beda Camm</span></span></div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 9.5em;"><i>Censor Deputatus</i></span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><b><big>Imprimatur:</big></b></div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><img src="images/maltese_cross.jpg" width="19" height="18" alt="Maltese cross" /> GULIELMUS <i>Episcopus Arindelensis</i></span></div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 18.5em;"><i>Vicarius Generalis</i></span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Westmonasterii</span>,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>die 14 Januarii, 1908.</i></span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 370px;"><a id="Frontispiece"></a> -<img src="images/i-004.jpg" width="370" height="600" alt="crowd on sides of street watching queen's advance, Campion on left reading" /> -<div class="caption">Campion reading an Address of Welcome to Queen Mary. <i><a href="#Page_3">p. 3.</a></i></div> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<div class="maintitle"> -<span class="red">BLESSED EDMUND<br /> -CAMPION</span></div> - -<div class="center"> -<br /> -BY<br /> -<span class="author">LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY</span><br /> -<br /><br /><br /> -<br /></div> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 22px;"> -<img src="images/leaf.jpg" width="22" height="22" alt="leaf" /> -</div> -<div class="center"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> -<span class="red"><big>R. & T. WASHBOURNE, LTD.</big></span><br /> -PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON<br /> -<small>AND AT MANCHESTER, BIRMINGHAM, AND GLASGOW</small><br /> -1914 <i><small>All rights reserved</small></i><br /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - - -<div class="center"> -<i>Campiani Fratribus<br /> -e Provincia Angliæ Societatis Jesu Tribus<br /> -opusculum suum<br /> -grato affectu<br /> -Scriptor</i><br /> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<h2>PREFATORY NOTE</h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">This</span> little book leans much, as every modern -work on the subject must do, upon Mr. Richard -Simpson’s monograph: <i>Edmund Campion, Jesuit -Protomartyr of England</i>. In many points supplementing -or contradicting that splendid though -biased narrative, the present writer has gratefully -taken advantage of the researches of the -Rev. John Hungerford Pollen, S.J. It may -also be useful to state that the contemporary -citations, when not otherwise specified, are -from two invaluable witnesses, Parsons and -Allen. The translated passages have been -compared with the originals, and sometimes -newly rendered.</p> - -<p class="sig"> -L. I. G.<br /> -</p> - -<p><i>St. Ives, Cornwall: Epiphany, 1908.</i></p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> -<tr> -<td align="left" colspan="2"><small>CHAP.</small></td> -<td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">I.</td> -<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Youth: London, Oxford: 1540-1566</span></td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">II.</td> -<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Hour of Unrest: Oxford, Dublin: 1566-1570</span></td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">III.</td> -<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Steps Forward: Ireland: 1571</span></td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">IV.</td> -<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Cheyney Again: Douay: 1571</span></td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">V.</td> -<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Call to Come up Higher: Douay, Prague: 1571-1573</span></td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">VI.</td> -<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Wished-for Dawn: Bohemia: 1573-1579</span></td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">VII.</td> -<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Long March: Rome, Geneva, Rheims: 1580</span></td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">VIII.</td> -<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Inhospitable Home: 1580</span></td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">IX.</td> -<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Skirmishing: the English Counties: 1580</span></td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">X.</td> -<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Many Labours: and a Book: 1580</span></td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">XI.</td> -<td align="left"><span class="smcap">At Lyford Grange, and After: 1581</span></td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">XII.</td> -<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Thick of the Fray: 1581</span></td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">XIII.</td> -<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Victory: December 1, 1581</span></td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - - - -<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="List of illustrations"> -<tr> -<td align="left"><div class="hang1"><span class="smcap">Campion reading an Address of Welcome to Queen Mary</span></div></td> -<td align="right" colspan="2"><i><a href="#Frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></i></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="left"><div class="hang1"><span class="smcap">Campion in his Proctor’s Robes. Gateway of St. John’s College, Oxford, in Background</span></div></td> -<td align="left" valign="bottom"><i>to face p.</i></td> -<td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="left"><div class="hang1"><span class="smcap">‘P[ater] Edmundus Campianus, Martyr’</span></div></td> -<td align="center">”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="left"><div class="hang1"><span class="smcap">‘We have not broken through here!’</span></div></td> -<td align="center">”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="left"><div class="hang1"><span class="smcap">Campion before Queen Elizabeth</span></div></td> -<td align="center">”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="left"><div class="hang1"><span class="smcap">‘Not Guilty!’</span></div></td> -<td align="center">”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="maintitle">BLESSED<br /> -EDMUND CAMPION</div> - - - -<h2>I<br /> - -<small>YOUTH: LONDON, OXFORD: 1540-1566</small></h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">THE Campion family seem to have -been both gentlefolk and yeomen, -and to have been widely scattered -over the land: in Northamptonshire, Warwickshire, -Essex, Sussex, and Devon. -Nothing is definitely known, at present, as -to which branch of the Campion family the -Blessed Edmund belonged. Unlike many -of the martyrs of Tudor and Stuart times, -he was what is called a “born” Catholic: -in more accurate phrase, a born heathen, -as we all are! but baptized in his parents’ -religion soon after his birth in London, -on the Feast of St. Paul the Apostle, -January 25, in the year 1540, New -Style. Edmund had two brothers, and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -sister, none of whom played any great part -in his after life. By the time he entered -the Society of Jesus his father and mother -were both dead: his written expression is -that he had “hopes” they died in full communion -with the Church; but evidently he -did not know, being abroad, how it had -fared with them in those terribly stormy -days for Christian souls.</p> - -<p>Edmund Campion, senior, was a book-seller, -evidently in good standing, but not -well to do. Some rich London guildsmen -(probably of the Grocers’ Company, for it -was they who maintained him later), befriended -the promising little boy at just the -right moment, when his father was reluctantly -going to apprentice him to a trade; -and he was sent, at their joint expense, -to a good Grammar School. Afterwards, -under the same patrons, he entered Christ -Hospital, then lately set up in Newgate -Street (out of confiscated Franciscan funds -and the generosity of Londoners), as the -“foundation” of the sixteen-year-old king, -Edward VI. Here the small Edmund, full -of life and laughter, banded and belted,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -ran about in now extinct yellow petticoats, -and one of the earliest pairs of those historic -yellow stockings. He was thirteen, -and quite famous already in the school-boy -world of London for his learning and his -attractive presence and speech, when Queen -Mary Tudor, who had just succeeded to -the English throne, entered her city in -state. Out of many hundred eligible youngsters -it was he who was chosen to stand -up before her on a street platform, under -the shadow of the old St. Paul’s Cathedral, -and shrilly welcome her in the Latin -tongue. The Queen sat on a white horse, -robed in gold-embroidered dark velvet, -crimson or purplish, with the great sword -carried before her by the boyish Earl of -Surrey, with eight thousand mounted lords -and gentlemen on either side, all the glittering -ambassadors, and a bevy of beautifully -apparelled ladies. On certain figures in -that splendid and noisy pageant the child -might have looked with pensive eyes, had -he been able to forecast his own future; as -it was, he cannot have failed to observe the -Queen’s younger sister, the thin, watchful,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -spirited girl who was known as the Lady -Elizabeth. Another was there, of high -office, though not of high descent, who -was all goodness, piety and generosity, -and may well have been drawn to notice -Edmund Campion for the first time on -that sunshiny afternoon in August, 1553. -This was Sir Thomas White, then Lord -Mayor of London, a staunch Catholic. He -was an unlearned man and childless, who -became, later, co-founder of the Merchant -Taylors’ School, and enricher of many -towns. By 1555 he had opened his College -of St. John Baptist, once a Cistercian -house, at Oxford. The Grocers’ Company -at once approached him to admit their Blue-coat -ward as a scholar; this he did, and conceived, -almost as soon, a marked attachment -to him; and two years later (when Edmund -was not yet eighteen!) he made him a Senior -Fellow. Campion’s other early friends at -the University were his first tutor, John -Bavand, and Gregory Martin, a Foundation -Scholar like himself. These two -showed towards him a lifelong devotion.</p> - -<p>Mary’s troubled reign had covered the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -five most susceptible years of his youth, -and restored to the country, despite its legal -excesses, a definitely Catholic tone. Things -were soon to change. War by statute -against the Mass was first declared in 1559. -Edmund Campion had left Oxford by the -time that St. John’s, deprived of President -after President by the Royal Commissioners, -was swept clean of all the dons who -favoured, or in any degree tolerated, the -jurisdiction of that Apostolic See which -safeguarded the doctrine and honour of the -Blessed Eucharist. But while he lived in -his University world, he lived untouched. -He was not looked upon as a Catholic. -Nor was he such, if his heart could be fully -judged by his outward actions. Buried in -literature, philosophy, and pleasant tutorial -work, he had become, in his cultured indifference, -what St. Jerome’s accusing -vision called a “Ciceronian,” and not a -Christian: a skin-deep Ciceronian, however. -There is only a bare possibility that, -on proceeding M.A. in 1564, he escaped -taking the wretched Oath of Supremacy, -and thereby acknowledging the Queen as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -Head in spirituals as well as temporals within -her realm of England. He stretched his -conscience, as many were doing, thinking -to help along the unity of faith, thereby -defeating that unity for good and all. An -almost unprecedented vogue at Oxford had -served to blind him: he was so happy, so -busy, so needed, so much at home there. -Friends encouraged him; undergraduates -flocked about him, and imitated his very -gait and tone as they never have imitated -any one else except Newman.</p> - -<p>Campion was a famous Latin scholar; -and he was a good Grecian and a good -Hebraist: Greek and Hebrew were studies -newly revived just before he was born. -He spoke as well as he wrote. The flamboyant -art of oratory, now almost extinct -in our more quiet-coloured century, was -then much studied and admired; and Campion -was famous for debates and addresses -and encomiums. When only twenty, he had -been called upon to preach, though a layman, -at the re-burial of poor Amy Robsart, -Lord Dudley’s young wife, in the University -church of St. Mary-the-Virgin;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -and this he did with great grace and animation, -and with no small display of tact, for -rumours of a murder with a motive had -already got abroad. Such prominence may -have come to Campion through Sir Thomas -White’s request: Sir Thomas had his -associations with Cumnor. Four years -later, Edmund Campion was able to put -sincere love and sincere grief into a funeral -oration (this time a Latin, not an English -one) for the good and dear Founder himself, -whose body was solemnly interred in -the Chapel of his College.</p> - -<p>In September, 1566, Queen Elizabeth -made the first and happier of her two visits -to Oxford. In the Queen’s train was Dudley; -also a quieter, plainer, less noticed -man, but one out of all comparison with -him for astute power: this was Sir William -Cecil, the Prime Minister, afterwards -known far and wide as Lord Burghley. -There were farces and tragedies for the -Queen at Oxford, there were musical performances, -theological disputations, and -other academic sports. In front of the -vast assemblage stood forth Master Campion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -of St. John’s, alone in his ruff, hood -and gown. As representative of the University, -he welcomed smiling royalty, and -Dudley, now Earl of Leicester, Chancellor -of the University, and royalty’s magnificent -favourite. Campion shone, as well, in the -absurd discussions in natural science which -followed. The Queen and Dudley marked -him, as they could not fail to do; for nothing -could exceed the courtliness with which -he had performed his task. The Chancellor -sent for him in private, and expressed -the Queen’s good-will, whereby Campion -might bid, through him, for whatever preferment -he chose. But Campion, always -truly modest and full of ironic humour as -well, would ask of his patron nothing, he -said, but his continued regard. The young -bookman had a real liking for the vicious -worldling, liked by several sensitively good -men, then and since. Sir William Cecil -also took instinctive interest in Campion -and his eager dialectics. Altogether, there -was no more popular man in Oxford or -elsewhere. Campion was on the hilltop of -professional and personal success.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> - -<p>In all this beautiful fountain-play of “the -things which are seen,” he was running -the very gravest risk of spiritual ruin. -Perhaps he could not know, in his leaf-hung -hermitage, what a tremendous -muster of souls was going on, now that the -ancient Church and a new statecraft were -to fight it out in England. Queen Elizabeth’s -quarrel with the Pope was hardly -more doctrinal than her royal father’s had -been: she, too, would have been quite content -to live all her days as a Catholic, provided -that Catholicism would prove her -slave. The battle was not between two -known religions. On one side was conservative -England with a belief; on the -other the strong spirit of secularism, plus -a few fanatics formed not by the English, -but the Continental Reformation. Religion -in itself troubled the Court party as little -as anything could possibly do. It was because -the spirit of Catholicism seemed to -them to threaten their particular kind of -national pride, and to interfere with their -particular kind of worldly prosperity, that -Cromwell in one great Tudor reign, Burghley<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -in the other, tried to put it down. They -wished to get good citizenship acknowledged -not as an ideal, but as the supreme -ideal, and they cared not how much else -was shovelled out of the way. Their only -use for religion was to bring it well under -the authority of the law and the supremacy -of the Crown. They had no objection to -high respectability, but a most violent objection -to the supernatural life, because that -gives to those who practise it a dangerous -independence. Elizabeth wanted unity and -peace. Her subjects were to be forced by -statute to pray less and to pray all alike; -and to be thereby trained, somehow, to put -Sacraments and Saints and the Papacy out -of their heads. English humankind were -to forsake their happy wild life, as it were, -in the Church Universal, and all become, as -if by magic, one large tame pet lying in a -ribboned collar on the royal hearth. This -is a vision which has appealed to many -another head of a commonwealth as desirable, -though unaccountably difficult! Some -worthy persons have brought themselves to -believe that nothing to speak of happened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -at the Reformation. But at the time, -everybody understood in the clearest -fashion that an old moral system which -would not come to terms had been dropped, -and a more satisfactory one created. It was -a working theory of that age, all over -Europe, that a governor had the right -to fix the belief of subjects. What was -wanted in England was made to order, out -of the rags of ruined doctrine and discipline. -Foreign Protestants raged over its -externals, as having too much of the old -thing, but the bullying State, riding roughshod -over Convocation and the laity, was -perfectly at ease, knowing that there was -more than enough of the new thing to -colour the whole, and to colour it once and -for ever. There was no affection for “continuity” -in those days except among the -“Romans.” The attitude of their persecutors -was that of men in a fury that any -Englishman should dare to connect himself -either with the world at large, or with his -country’s own disclaimed yesterday. The -State Trials, for instance, bear this out in -a score of places. Many an official answer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -resembles the one made to that interesting -character Blessed Ralph Sherwin, when he -said truly that his coming back to his own -land was to persuade the people to Catholic -Unity. “You well know,” so the Counsel -reproved him in Westminster Hall, “that -it was not lawful for you to persuade the -Queen’s subjects to any other religion than -by her Highness’s instructions is already -professed.” The “received religion,” or, -as it was quite as often called, the “Queen’s -religion,” was simply the new idea of -nationalism torn away from relationship to -the arch-idea of nations, which is the law of -God. It was, in practice, no adoring angel -at the Altar, but a capable parish beadle at -the door. Now this was never the Catholic -conception of what religion has been, or is -meant to be. Happily, many thoroughly -patriotic Englishmen felt that no least jot of -Christian revelation, however much it stood -in the way of Cæsar, could, with their consent, -be put by; and to keep it free they -were willing to make themselves very disagreeable -indeed to their revered sovereign, -and to their more easy-going countrymen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -With that rude definiteness which is ever -their chief family trait, the better Catholics -threw their full force against the Oaths of -Supremacy and Acts of Uniformity, as soon -as they understood their meaning. The -centuries passed since then prove that they -succeeded in holding asunder what the -Queen would join together. Was it unreasonable -that she punished the men who -tried to spoil her dream? And almost the -chief of these men Edmund Campion was -destined to be, though years were to pass -before he lent his whole heart to the work -God willed him to do.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>II<br /> - -<small>THE HOUR OF UNREST: OXFORD, DUBLIN:<br /> -1566-1570</small></h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">THOUSANDS who were comfortably -placed in life, and conscientious, -too, had a great deal to suffer until -things were made plain. Edmund Campion -began to fret, and argue, and ponder, -and pray for light in secret, for several years -going about “that most ingeniose Place” -(as a later lover called Oxford) with heavy -thoughts. Oxford itself, despite the Ecclesiastical -Commission fixed there to worry it, -was more Catholic in spirit than any other -city in England. Nevertheless Campion’s -temptation to conform was very great. We -must remember that many of his first impressions -and memories were Anglican. He -was brought up during his early school -life on the new Liturgy, which came into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -operation before his tenth year. He knew -now, in manhood, that to change about, and -forsake the State religion for the only -Church which is as exacting as her Master, -would be to see the ruin of his happy career. -His strong point, in the beginning, was not -what is called brute courage. His was the -nervous, Hamlet-like temper, natural to -students and recluses, which, by a fatal -error, puts endless thinking into what needs -only to be done.</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 377px;"> -<img src="images/i-027.jpg" width="377" height="600" alt="Campion in robes at college, stone arch behind him" /> -<div class="caption">Bld. Edmund Campion in Proctor’s robes.<br /> - -<small>(Gateway of St. John’s College, Oxford, in background)</small></div> -</div> - -<p>During these years Campion read a great -deal of theology, as in his position he was -bound to do, according to University rules. -Where everything else except his inmost -heart inclined him to heresy, the Fathers -drove him back upon the fulness of revealed -truth. The day which he spent with St. -Augustine, or St. Jerome, or St. John -Chrysostom, was a day on which (to catch -up the phrase of his friend and biographer, -Fr. Robert Parsons, himself a Balliol man) -he was ready “to pull out this thorn of conscience.” -But on the morrow returned the -old spirit of obstinacy and delay. Meanwhile -the Anglican influence was gaining<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -for Campion’s dearest friend of many, -Richard Cheyney, the Lord Bishop of -Gloucester, was drawing him on towards his -own ideals, which were “Catholic-minded,” -if not Catholic. The learned, gentle and -lovable Cheyney withstood with zest the -risen Puritan party, and in his hold on -sound doctrine stood apart from all his colleagues -on the Episcopal Bench. He had -been brought up as a Catholic, and ordained -according to the full Catholic ritual, in -1534. The reminder is sometimes needed -that Protestants did not shoot up full-grown, -that all original Protestantism was made up -of human material once Catholic. From -first to last, however, Cheyney could not -be forced to coerce the Church which he had -abandoned. In this he stood not, as has -been stated, quite alone among the Elizabethan -Bishops, for Downham of Chester -and Ghest of Rochester shared his honourable -abstinence, though in less degree. The -moment Cheyney was out of the way, the -Catholics on his diocesan ground, hitherto -safe, were mercilessly harried. He had -been made a Bishop against his will, displacing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -the true occupant of the See, when -his friend Edmund Campion was two-and-twenty. -In most matters Cheyney followed -Luther; Cranmer’s more heretical doctrines, -which prevailed on all sides in England, he -thoroughly hated. He longed always for a -reconciliation which was never to be, and -never can be. He longed to see the Catholics -(against the well-thought-out and oft-repeated -prohibition of their leaders, between -1562 and 1606) do a little evil to procure a -great good: namely, smooth matters over, -escape their terribly severe penalties, and in -the end become able to leaven the lump of -English error, by the mere preliminary of -attendance at the service of Common Prayer -according to law, in their own old parish -churches. The Book of Common Prayer, -as he would remind them, was expressly -designed to suit persons of various and even -contradictory religious views: Catholic; -not-so-very Catholic; ex-Catholic; non-Catholic; -anti-Catholic! Campion often -rode over the hills to Gloucester to sit by -the episcopal hearth-fire, book on knee, and -hear such theories as this, and sympathize<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -with the lonely old man who “saw visions,” -and had little else in his vexed life to content -him. His strong double desire was -to save by his own effort for the Church -of England separated from Rome, that -great body of ancient belief and practice -sure otherwise to be lost in the flood of -invited Calvinism; and to secure Edmund -Campion himself as his intellectual coadjutor -and successor, as one of high gifts -likely to “drink in his thoughts and become -his heir.” The two were together, not only -in matters of dogma, but in all minor points. -Cheyney shared with Campion dislike of -politics, telling the Council that in such -matters he was “a man of small experience -and little observation.” He kept his old -priestly ideals, and would never marry. -Campion, too, chose to be a celibate. If he -gave his heart to either Church, he saw even -then that it must be an undivided heart. To -him, with his underlying tenderness towards -the ancient faith, and his dream of peacemaking -through compromise, which is so -English, and just in these matters so mistaken, -the mission thus opened out appealed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -Half reluctantly, yet not realizing the disloyalty -of his act (as he himself tells us), -he allowed himself to receive from Cheyney’s -hands Deacon’s orders in the Church -of England.</p> - -<p>His interior struggle, from this day forth, -went from bad to worse. With the unaffected -simplicity of his character, he talked -over his difficulties not only with Cheyney, -but with any one at Oxford who seemed -able to help him. As a consequence, the -Grocers’ Company, whose exhibition he still -held, heard rumours, grew uneasy, and -began to suspect him, ending in 1568 by -inviting Campion up to London to save his -credit by preaching at Paul’s Cross, and -publicly “favouring,” as they expressed it, -“the religion now authorized.” He begged -for time, and that being granted, for more -time. He attended a court of the Company in -order to plead engagements, and to say that -he was not his own man, while deep in -academic duties and at the service of undergraduates: -“divers worshipful men’s -children,” he calls them. He was Public -Orator and Proctor, in fact, by now, as well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -as Fellow and Tutor of his College. (He -never resided long enough to take his -Doctor’s degree.) He exacted from the -Company a written statement of the dogmas -he was expected to avow; and finding it -impossible to subscribe to the hot heterodoxy -thus laid down, he cut his first tether -by resigning his exhibition.</p> - -<p>His most brilliant colleague at St. John’s, -Gregory Martin, who had protested in vain -against Campion’s diaconate (which was to -cause the recipient extreme remorse for a -long time), had become a convert to Catholicism, -and sacrificed all his secular prospects. -He wrote to his dear friend to warn -him against ambition, and to urge on him -escape from moral bondage. “Come!” the -fervent letter cried; “if we two can but live -together, we can live on nothing. If this -be too little, I have money; and if this also -fails, one thing is left: ‘they that sow in -tears shall reap in joy!’” Such earnest -words, though seeming wasted, had their -share in shaking Edmund Campion’s rest.</p> - -<p>With the summer term of 1570 his Proctorate -expired. He spent the Long Vacation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -in tutoring the eight-years-old Harry Vaux, -eldest son of Lord Vaux of Harrowden, who -afterwards beautifully redeemed his childish -promise. The end of Michaelmas term -found Campion face to face for the last time -with that life which he had so loved, and in -which, with his scientific enthusiasm for -letters, he had been such a wonderful inspiration -to young men. There was no conscious -motive in his heart deeper than a -thirst for such freedom as had become difficult -in a Puritanizing University, when he -cut himself loose, slipped out of it for good, -and took ship for Ireland.</p> - -<p>In the new move he had the approbation -of Leicester, and the companionship of a -much-attached Oxford disciple, Richard -Stanihurst, who is remembered by posterity -only for his grotesque translation of Virgil. -Campion may well have left home with the -understanding that he should have a clear -educational field in Dublin, but he arrived -a little too late. The outlook had been very -bright. Some good men then in power were -eager for the revival of the extinct University -of Dublin, an ancient Papal foundation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -but ruined, as all the great Schools were -(most of them permanently, some only temporarily), -by the religious changes. The -chief supporters of the plan were enthusiastic, -far-sighted, and most liberally inclined -towards Catholics. Fear and prejudice -therefore stepped in, in the person of Elizabeth’s -Irish Bishops. The Lord Chancellor, -Dr. Weston, wrote privately to the Queen, -deploring the popularity of the scheme, and -begging her to take the unborn foundation -“into her merciful, motherly care.” She -followed that advice. In token thereof, in -due season arose Trinity College, Dublin, -as a complete checkmate to the earlier project, -quite safe for evermore from Papist -blight. Thus was Campion cheated of a continuance -of his natural vocation, in serving -upon the staff of the new University. Two -of his friends who had most concern in it -were James Stanihurst, father of Richard, -and Sir Henry Sidney, then Lord Deputy of -Ireland, who had proffered it lands and -money. Leicester would have provided -Campion with a letter of introduction to Sir -Henry, his own brother-in-law. The latter’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -young son, Philip, was at this time a student -in Oxford, where his governor, Thomas -Thornton of Christ Church, afterwards Vice-Chancellor, -had been constantly in Campion’s -society. Sir Henry Sidney always -bore himself most kindly towards Campion. -The latter lived, a more than welcome guest, -under the roof of James Stanihurst, then -Recorder of Dublin, and Speaker of the -local House of Commons. Stanihurst was -the head of an Anglo-Irish family not openly -Catholic since Queen Mary’s reign. Indeed, -in his public capacity, he had often sided -against Catholicism, although he was as -friendly as Sidney himself to those who professed -it. In the midst of this temporizing -household, Campion, himself a temporizer, -came during the winter to be doubted by certain -bigots outside. Very possibly he was too -free-spoken. Campion “came to Ireland -believing in practically all Catholic dogmas, -even in the Eucharist, and in the authority of -the Council of Trent.” The impression may -have got abroad that his then unknown -variety of Anglicanism differed little from -the dangerous creed of times past, lately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -discovered to be the proper business of -the police! Whatever the reason, Campion -began to be a marked man. Sir Henry -Sidney told Stanihurst with heat, that so -long as he was Governor he would see to -it that “no busy knave of them all should -trouble him,” on Campion’s account. Under -this unpleasant circumstance of espial, added -to the disappointment he had just undergone, -the sensitive exile presently fell ill, -and got a most affectionate nursing from the -Stanihursts, till his strength revived. He -started as soon to write a treatise on a -subject of which his mind, up to now, had -been full: the character and aim of the ideal -youth at the Universities. This <i>De Juvene -Academico</i> reminds us of a theme by another -great Oxonian who was in Dublin three -hundred years later, and had also to face the -heartbreaking failure of an Irish University -dreamed of, and not to be. Campion afterwards -recast his fine little work, and under -its second form it is to be found among the -few <i>Opuscula</i> published after his death. -His comely face and gracious manner were -quickly taken into favour in his Dublin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -circle. While he was gaining a contrary -repute on hearsay, the few who had -access to him nicknamed him “the -Angel.”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, hating idleness, and bent on -redeeming what may have looked like a -foolish absence from Oxford, Campion -planned the composition of a brief <i>History -of Ireland</i>. Friends helped him in “inquiring -out antiquities of the land.” He -was what we should call a thorough “researcher,” -a bird by no means common in -those early days. He went here and there -among musty manuscript records of the -city, and from library to library in the -country, happily gathering in his materials -for work. He had been some three months -in Ireland when on a March midnight there -came a sudden warning from the faithful -Lord Deputy, who was on the point of leaving -for England. Campion learned thereby -that Weston the Chancellor had pursuivants -ready to arrest him the next morning! The -Stanihursts acted at once, and hurried their -friend into the care of Sir Christopher -Barnewall and Dame Marion Sherry, his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -wife, of Turvey House, in the parish of -Donabate, eight miles away. There, breathless -with the sudden flight through the -dark, the three devoted escorts left him in -safety.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>III<br /> - -<small>STEPS FORWARD: IRELAND: 1571</small></h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">THE Barnewalls were in feeling both -more Catholic and more Irish than -the Stanihursts, and they showed -Edmund Campion a no less tender hospitality. -The great house was in a beautiful -and remote situation. Running in and out -of it was a horde of laughing children, including -the eleven-year-old Janet who was -to become Richard Stanihurst’s early-dying -wife. Campion loved the hearty Knight, -their father, and their lady mother, whom -he calls “in very sooth, a most gentle -and godly woman.” Though he mingled -freely with the life of the family, he was -considerately given the great garret to write -in and hide in. Here he began his little -<i>History</i>. First of all, though, he sent back -a grateful missive in Latin to the men who -had been so providently kind to him. To<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -the Recorder, he says: “Was I not fortunate -in such friendship and patronage as -yours? How good, how generous it was of -you to take in an unknown stranger, and -to keep him all these months on the fat of -the land! You looked after my health as -carefully as after Richard’s, the son worthy -of your love. You supplied me, too, with -books, and made the best possible provision -for my time of study: may I perish, if ever -in this world, outside my room in Oxford, -I had sweeter dealings with the Muses! . . . -Up to this, I have had to thank you -for conveniences; but now I must thank -you for my rescue, and my very breath,—yes, -breath is just the word! for they who -succumb to these persecutors are wont to be -thrust into dismal dungeons, where they -inhale filthy fogs, and are cut off from -wholesome air. But now, through you and -your children’s kindness, I shall live, please -God . . . most happily.” The stress laid, -in this affectionate letter, upon the writer’s -appreciation of personal care, of the privacy -dear to students, of good diet and pure air, -tells its own tale of physical delicacy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -Campion was slight in build, and like many -another tireless and quenchless spirit known -to history, at no time really strong. He -ends by asking that his St. Bernard may be -sent on to him, and encloses a lively page -for his friend Richard, recalling the service -rendered in snatching him from danger, and -conveying him to Turvey House. “Is it -not hard,” Campion breaks out, “that beholden -to you as I am, I have no way -of showing it? . . . Meanwhile, if these -buried relics have any flavour of the old -Campion, their flavour is for you . . . you -and your brother Walter . . . you, up that -whole night through, and he, summoned -to us from his wife’s side. Seriously, I -owe you much. I have nothing to write -about unless you have time and inclination -for a laugh. Have you? Then hold -your breath, and listen! The day after I -came here, as I sat down to work, into the -bedroom burst a poor old soul, coming on -what business I wot not. She knew nothing -of me, so seeing me suddenly at her -left, took me for a ghost! Her hair rose -on end; she went dead white; she stared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -aghast; her jaw fell. ‘What is the -matter?’ quoth I, whereupon she almost -collapsed with fright. Not a syllable could -she utter, but made shift to flounce out of -the room, and pour into her mistress’s ear -how some sort of hideous spectre had appeared -to her on the top floor! This was -repeated to me at supper. They called the -little old thing in, and made her relate -her scare. We all nearly died with -laughter; and I was established as quite -alive.”</p> - -<p>The book, put together, as was almost -all Campion’s literary work, under highly -disturbing conditions, is unfinished; and -what there is of it is sketchy and out of -proportion. One of its charms is its -character-drawing, including the speeches -with which, after the fashion of Livy, -Campion fits the situation by putting them -into the mouths of his personages. His -was a dramatic mind. He knew both -history and human nature: the latter knowledge -crops up everywhere in all that he -wrote, and spoke, and did, and supplied -him with no small share of his power over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -others. The outstanding charm of the -<i>History of Ireland</i> is its style, crisp, arresting, -bright with idiom: an idiom so noble -and so much his own, that one understands -the almost breathless admiration with which -his generation looked up to him and -listened to him. But this book, like the -<i>View of the Present State</i>, written some -seventeen years later by another gentle-hearted -Englishman, the poet Spenser, is -all wrong in its theory that to get any footing -in the modern world the “mere -Irishry” must be Anglicized. Campion -did not know the Celts, their laws, nor -their literature; he never came nearer to -them than through chronicles written in -scorn of them, or the daily table-talk, wide -of the mark, of the English Pale. Yet, -according to his opportunity, he loved the -country and the people, and deplored that -the descendants of a race of mediæval -scholars should be cut off from education. -Afterwards he felt that his rather helter-skelter -pamphlet represented limited knowledge -and unformed opinion; he speaks of -it as “premature,” and wished, when he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -lost the manuscript, that it might perish -rather than reach the public as it was. It -bore a dedication to the Earl of Leicester, -his “singular good lord,” in the hope that -it might “make his travel seem neither -causeless nor fruitless,” or, as he says -again in plainer language: “I render you -my poor book as an account of my voyage.” -It was first printed, without supervision -from the author, in a very muddled, unsatisfactory -way, by Raphael Holinshed in -1577; then in more scholarly fashion by -Sir James Ware, in his <i>Ancient Irish Histories</i>, -1633. We all remember how useful -Holinshed’s pages were to Shakespeare: -the twenty lines or so of the famous description -of Wolsey in Act IV, Scene 2, of -<i>Henry VIII</i>, is taken almost word for -word from what Campion had written, -and Holinshed had incorporated in his -<i>Chronicles</i>.</p> - -<p>Nowhere in this little book, begun and -broken off at Turvey House, and purposely -non-committal in its religious expressions, -is there any sign that its author had -already, as some have thought, returned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -to the Church. For Parsons, his earliest -biographer, whose facts concerning these -years were supplied by Richard Stanihurst, -says of Campion that his purity and devoutness -in Ireland were marked, although he -was not in the Church. Fr. Pollen, summing -up the evidence of these written -pages, considers Campion “near to the -Church, but distinctly avoiding a confession -of faith.”</p> - -<p>Chancellor Weston, a zealot of the most -pronounced Protestant type, made a livelier -pursuit after having been baffled by Campion’s -escape from Dublin. The latter found -himself quite unable to lead any sort of -orderly life, thanks to the restless hue and -cry after him; and one day he recognized -with a shock of horror the penalties to -which he was exposing the generous -friends, so far unmolested, who were giving -him shelter. His conscience would not -allow him to come out with a flat denial of -Catholic tenets or sympathies. His only -alternative, after a half-year in Ireland, was -flight homeward. Here once more he was -aided (though they were in great sorrow at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -his decision) by his Anglo-Irish friends, -those “dear friends which ever after he -loved most entirely, and they him.”</p> - -<p>Richard Stanihurst, as private tutor to -the children of the Earl of Kildare, had -acquaintance with the Earl’s steward, Melchior -Hussey. This man (a character by -no means admirable) was about to embark -at Drogheda for a visit to England, and it -was arranged that Campion should be disguised -to pass as his Irish servant. Thus, -in the month of May, putting himself under -the special patronage of the national Saint, -and adopting his name, Campion boarded -the ship as “Mr. Patrick.” Officers of -the law promptly appeared on the track of -the quasi-Papist, delaying the weighing of -the anchor, annoying the crew, upsetting -the cargo, and questioning every passenger -on deck except the harmless-looking person -who stood “in a lackey’s weed” behind -Hussey. Edmund Campion was a born -actor. He put on and kept up a highly -stupid expression, while he was praying -with might and main for St. Patrick’s intercession -in his great danger! He had cause<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -to thank his new patron in Heaven, although -the party of searchers swooped -upon his bags below deck, and carried off -with them the rough draft of his precious -manuscript, that <i>History of Ireland</i> which -he was to see no more for many a year.</p> - -<p>The early summer of 1571 was ill-starred. -Various startling events had conjoined like -tidal waves to lift the misbehaving English -Government up to its highest pitch of -alarm. Chief of these was the Bull of Deposition -against Queen Elizabeth, issued -by the Holy See after consultation with -many temperate English advisers. John -Felton, a gentleman of Southwark, posted -a copy of it upon the palace gates of the -Bishop of London, on the morning of May -25, the Feast of Corpus Christi: by August -he was to pay for the bold act with his life. -The Queen of Scots had newly arrived in -England. London, by the time Campion -reached it, was in a ferment. “Nothing -was to be found there but fears, suspicions, -arrestings, condemnations, tortures, executions. . . . -The Queen and Council were -so troubled that they could not tell whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -to trust, and so fell to rigorous proceedings -against all, but especially against Catholics, -whom they most feared; so that Campion -could not tell where to rest in England, all -men being in fear and jealousy one of -another.”</p> - -<p>Campion had not broken his old bonds, -yet nothing interested him so powerfully -as the things of religion. The love of God -was lying in wait for him, and forced his -hand. Of all possible places in London -where he might have gone on the 26th or -27th of May, he chose Westminster Hall, -in order to attend the trial of Dr. John -Storey, former Principal of Broadgates -Hall (Pembroke College) in Oxford, and -that University’s first Regius Professor of -Civil Law. Dr. Storey was very feeble for -his years, which were sixty-seven. By a -wretched breach of international law he -had been trapped at Antwerp, carried away -from his wife and family to England, and -arraigned for having “feloniously and -traitorously comforted Richard Norton,” -his own friend, the old hero of the Pilgrimage -of Grace. But the real cause of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -arrest and execution was a much larger -matter. He was a troublesomely consistent -person. He had spoken out in the House -of Commons against the new Liturgy in the -first Parliament of Edward VI, and against -the Supremacy Bill in the first Parliament -of Queen Elizabeth. He had been an -Ecclesiastical Commissioner under Queen -Mary. Foxe, in the famous <i>Book of -Martyrs</i>, lies in the most reckless way -about Storey’s part in those sordid bygone -persecutions, and Holinshed and Strype -and many another historian repeat Foxe.</p> - -<p>Storey was an honourable and even -merciful man, but a man of his time. -People were much of a piece in the sixteenth -century when it came to holding to -the grindstone the nose of the unwilling! -There is this to be said, however: that the -Marian courts dealt out death to heretics -and malcontents, and candidly stopped -there, and were not inspired to any cruelty -more subtle; whereas Good Queen Bess not -only dealt out death very much more liberally, -but invented a poison for all the springs -of life. Her statutes, terribly oppressive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -from the first, ended in what Burke calls the -most hateful code framed since the world -began: Penal Laws which, especially -from 1585 on, struck without mercy at -Catholics in their rights of worship, property, -inheritance, education, travel, professions, -public service and private liberties -of every kind. Another point to be noted -in passing is that Queen Mary persecuted -her subjects for changing their religion. -Her more ingenious sister persecuted them -for not changing it! Historians have not -dwelt much upon the difference, but to a -reader with some philosophy in him it will -have no little weight.</p> - -<p>Dr. Storey was executed five days after -his trial, under even more horrible circumstances -than were usual. Edmund Campion -had then left England, after an exceedingly -short stay. His standing watch -in Westminster Hall had done more for -him than many arguments and exhortations: -it kindled a spark in him which -made him, in Lord Falkland’s phrase, -“ready for the utmost hazard of war.” -There was a cause to which he could run<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -home; there was a vocation to which he -could climb: these opened out before him -as he stood in the surging indoor crowd. -“He was animated by that blessed man’s -example,” says Parsons, “to any danger -and peril for the same faith for which the -Doctor died.” Edmund Campion lost no -time. There had been enough of that sad -old game, and he was thirty-one years old, -with three quarters of his too brief life behind -him. Now he was awake, and had -touched, in the dark, his heart’s long-patient -Master. He set out at once for the -nearest stronghold of apostolic souls, the -English Seminary at Douay in Belgium.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>IV<br /> - -<small>CHEYNEY AGAIN: DOUAY: 1571</small></h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">INTERRUPTED sea-voyages were his -fate. This time, half-way across the -Channel, his ship was hailed by a -Government frigate, <i>The Hare</i>, which -demanded to be shown the ship’s sailing -papers, and the passports of her passengers. -Campion had none. Moreover, as his -religion was suspected, the dutiful Protestant -frigate, homeward bound, promptly -swallowed him, bag and baggage. His -generous friends in Ireland had forced -upon him money for his needs, and the -captain who now kidnapped him found it -convenient to keep the money, but kind-heartedly -let his prisoner lose himself in the -streets of Dover. Other friends quickly -made the losses good. On Campion’s -second attempt to reach Calais all went -well. He did not lack his secular epitaph,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -so to speak, at Court. It was not then a -legal crime, though it soon became so, for a -Catholic Englishman to leave the country -fast being made into a hell for him. The -mighty Cecil treated this expatriation as -quite voluntary. “And it is a very great -pity,” he chose to say, looking into Richard -Stanihurst’s gratified eyes, “for Master -Campion was one of the diamonds of -England.”</p> - -<p>The date of Campion’s reconciliation to -the Church is unknown. It seems unlikely -to have taken place in Ireland. He may -have been absolved from his schism in -London, or else as soon as he had reached -Douay. There was a busy trade in wool still -flourishing at that time between Flanders -and England, and in the thrifty, kindly -towns of the exporting country refugees -formed a considerable part of the population. -Douay, properly speaking, Douai, -was called “Doway” by its foster-children. -The creation of its English Seminary was a -master-stroke of Dr. William Allen, Canon -of York, afterwards Cardinal, once of Oriel -College, Oxford, and Principal of St.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -Mary Hall. Indeed, “Oxford may be -said to have founded Douay.” Allen was -aided by many men of mark, notably by his -old tutor, Morgan Phillipps, and by the -latter’s bequeathed funds; also by the -Flemish Abbots and layfolk. Campion -seems to have been the eighteenth arrival -in the newly established house of young, -prayerful, enthusiastic men. He found -there as Professor of Hebrew, his beloved -Gregory Martin, and a learned colleague, -Richard Bristow, late Fellow of Exeter -College, the first of the Seminarian priests -to be ordained: two props and pillars of the -foundation. There also was Thomas Stapleton, -late Fellow of New College, the most -able Catholic controversialist of the age. -Five of the twenty English students enrolled -in 1571, joined the Society of Jesus. The -College, destined to speedy and splendid -development, was affiliated to the Douay -University, established some eight years -before it by Spanish munificence and a -Papal Bull. Here, then, Edmund Campion -came into his soul’s haven, “out of the -swing of the sea.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was Dr. Allen’s missionary policy that -all his sons, before memory of them had -grown dim at home, should write to their -more undecided friends in England, doing -what they could to win them to the service -of Christ in the Church Catholic. Campion -sent a very long document to this end to his -venerated and now ageing friend, Bishop -Cheyney: a wonderful letter, in that live -Elizabethan English, which was bold as -surgery itself, yet charged with feeling. -Associating his beliefs with Cheyney’s as -the writer does, he helps us to understand -his own doctrinal position while in Oxford -and in Dublin. He failed in both places, -writes Fr. Morris, for the same reason: -“the position was a false one, for it was an -effort to serve two masters, and to live like -a Catholic and teach the Catholic religion -outside the pale of the Catholic Church.” -“There is no end or measure,” he now tells -Cheyney from Douay, “to my thinking of -you; and I never think of you without being -horribly ashamed. . . . So often was I with -you at Gloucester, so often in your private -chamber, with no one near us, when I could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -have done this business, and I did it not!” -By “this business” he means confessing -Catholic truth, and urging Cheyney to return -to it. “And what is worse, I have -added flames to the fever by assenting and -assisting. And although you were superior -to me, in your counterfeited dignity, in -wealth, age and learning, and though I was -not bound to look after the physicking or -dieting of your soul, yet, since you were of -so easy and sweet a temper as in spite of -your grey hairs to admit me, young as I -was, to familiar intercourse with you, to say -whatever I chose, in all security and secrecy, -while you imparted to me your sorrows and -all the calumnies of the other heretics -against you; and since like a father you exhorted -me to walk straight and upright in -the royal road, to follow the steps of the -Church, the Councils, and the Fathers, and -to believe that where there was a consensus -of these there could be no spot of falsehood; -I am very angry with myself that I neglected -to use such a beautiful opportunity -of recommending the Faith: that through -false modesty or culpable negligence, I did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -not address with boldness one who was so -near to the Kingdom of God. But as I have -no longer the occasion that I had of persuading -you face to face, it remains that I should -send my words to you to witness my regard, -my care, my anxiety for you, known to Him -to whom I make my daily prayer for your -salvation. Listen, I beseech you, listen to a -few words. You are sixty years old, more -or less” (Cheyney was really sixty-eight), -“of uncertain health, of weakened body; -the hatred of heretics, the pity of Catholics, -the talk of the people, the sorrow of your -friends, the joke of your enemies. Who do -you think yourself to be? What do you -expect? What is your life? Wherein lies -your hope? In the heretics hating you so -implacably and abusing you so roundly? -Because of all heresiarchs you are the least -crazy? Because you confess the Living -Presence of Christ on the Altar, and the -freedom of man’s will? Because you persecute -no Catholics in your diocese? Because -you are hospitable to your townspeople, -and to good men? Because you plunder -not your palace and lands, as your brethren<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -do? Surely these things will avail much, if -you return to the bosom of the Church, if -you suffer even the smallest persecution in -common with those of the Household of -Faith, or join your prayers with theirs. But -now, whilst you are a stranger and an -enemy, whilst, like a base deserter, you -fight under an alien flag, it is in vain to -attempt to cover your crimes with the cloak -of virtues. . . . What is the use of fighting -for many articles of the Faith, and to perish -for doubting of a few? . . . He believes no -one article of the Faith who refuses to believe -any single one. In vain do you defend -the religion of Catholics, if you hug only -that which you like, and cut off all that -seems not right in your eyes. There is but -one plain, known road: not enclosed by your -palings or mine, not by private judgment, -but by the severe laws of humility and -obedience: when you wander from these -you are lost. You must be altogether -within the house of God, within the walls -of salvation, to be sound and safe from all -injury; if you wander and walk abroad ever -so little, if you carelessly thrust hand or foot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -out of the ship, if you stir up ever so small -a mutiny in the crew, you shall be thrust -forth: the door is shut, the ocean roars: -you are undone! . . . Do you remember the -sober and solemn answer which you gave -me when three years ago we met in the -house of Thomas Dutton at Shireburn, -where we were to dine? We were talking of -St. Cyprian. I objected to you (in order to -discover your real opinions) that Synod of -Carthage which erred about the baptism of -infants. You answered truly that the -Holy Spirit was not promised to one Province, -but to the Church; that the Universal -Church is represented in a full Council; and -that no doctrine can be pointed out about -which such a Council ever erred. Acknowledge -your own weapons, which you used -against the adversaries of the Mystery of -the Eucharist! . . . Here you have the most -. . . apostolic men collected at Trent . . . to -contend for the ancient faith of the Fathers! -All these, whilst you live as you are living, -anathematize you, hiss you out, excommunicate -you, abjure you.” Campion goes on to -urge upon Cheyney an outward adherence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -to the Council which had discussed and -resolved his own private beliefs. “Especially -now you have declared war against -your colleagues, why do you not make full -submission, without any exceptions, to the -discipline of these Fathers? . . . Once more, -consult your own heart, my poor old friend! -give me back your old beauty, and those -excellent gifts which have been hitherto -smothered in the mud of dishonesty. Give -yourself to your Mother who begot you to -Christ, nourished you, consecrated you; -acknowledge how cruel and undutiful you -have been: let confession be the salve of -your sin. . . . Be merciful to your soul; -spare my grief. Your ship is wrecked, your -merchandise lost: nevertheless, seize the -plank of penance, and come even naked into -the port of the Church. Fear not but that -Christ will preserve you with His hand, -run to meet you, kiss you, and put on you -the white garment: Saints and Angels will -sing for joy! Take no thought for your -life: He will take thought for you who gives -the beasts their food, and feeds the young -ravens that call upon Him. If you but made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -trial of our banishment, if you but cleared -your conscience, and came to behold and -consider the living examples of piety which -are shown here by Bishops, priests, friars, -Masters of Colleges, rulers of Provinces, lay -people of every age, rank and sex, I believe -that you would give up six hundred -Englands for the opportunity of redeeming -the residue of your time by tears and sorrow. . . . -Pardon me, my venerated old -friend, for these just reproaches, and for the -heat of my love. Suffer me to hate that -deadly disease; let me ward off the imminent -danger of so noble a man and so dear -a friend with any dose, however bitter. And -now if Christ give grace and you do not -refuse, my hopes of you are equal to my -love: and I love you as passing excellent -in nature, in learning, in gentleness, in -goodness, and as doubly dear to me for your -many kindnesses and courtesies. If you -recover your [spiritual] health, you make me -happy for ever. If you slight me, this letter -is my witness. God judge between you and -me: your blood be on yourself! Farewell, -from him that most desires your salvation.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> - -<p>One phrase in this steel web of phrases -from the pen of a rhetorician with a heart, -shows that Campion knew of Cheyney’s sad -and now complicated position in England. -The letter was written November 1, 1571. -A Convocation had met in the preceding -April, on the heels of the Act of Uniformity, -to which Cheyney was summoned in vain. -It required the signing of the Thirty-nine -Articles, and enacted, under Archbishop -Grindal’s leadership, many things equally -hateful to Cheyney, such as displacement -and defacement of Altar-stones—(a great -symbol, this, and no mere act of pillage!), -the abolition of Prayers for the Dead, the -prohibition even of the Sign of the Cross in -church. Cheyney, excommunicated for his -wilful absence, afterwards sued by proxy -for absolution, for the sake of averting -temporal penalties: but he had nothing -more to do with the hierarchy. “Now you -have declared war against your colleagues,” -shows that Campion had heard accurate -news of all this.</p> - -<p>The moment may have seemed to Campion -exactly favourable for such a strong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -appeal. One of Cheyney’s successors in his -See declared: “It was certain he died a -Papist.” This was contradicted by a lesser -authority, but yet a good one. If it were -indeed “certain”, at least Edmund Campion, -to whom the tidings would have been -most consoling, never knew of it. It seems -as if Cheyney could not have answered that -bugle-call of a letter. He is said, however, -to have kept it always, and to have called it -his greatest treasure.</p> - -<p>How these many cries of “the heat of my -love” must have haunted his ear! It is -hardly in human nature to value such a -document at all (and there are passages in -it more ruthless, after the manner of the -time, than any we have quoted), unless for -the reflex reason that it does its intended -work in the heart of the receiver. To have -valued it either as a piece of literary cleverness, -or as a monument of misdirected concern, -would have been equally cynical, and -clean contrary to Cheyney’s known attitude -towards his friend. He did not live to see -Campion return to England. Shunning the -bigots and the unprincipled men in power<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -to the last, and sheltering the Catholics all -he could, he shut himself up at Gloucester, -a whole High Church party in himself, -wounded and at bay: and there in 1579 he -died, and was buried in the glorious -Cathedral, without an epitaph. The dream -of his lifetime, as well as Edmund Campion’s -sonship, he had loved and lost.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>V<br /> - -<small>THE CALL TO COME UP HIGHER: DOUAY, -PRAGUE: 1571-1573</small></h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">IN Allen’s <i>Apology for Seminaries</i> there -is a beautiful account of the ideals -of Douay. “The first thought of the -founders of the College had been to attract -the young English exiles who were living in -Flanders from their solitary and self-guided -study to a more exact method and to collegiate -obedience; and their next, to provide -for the rising generation in England a succession -of learned Catholics, especially of -clergy, to take the place of those removed -by old age, imprisonment, and persecution. -Their design then was to draw together out -of England the ‘best wits’ from the following -classes; those inclined to Catholicism; -those who desired a more exact education -than could be then obtained at Oxford<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -or Cambridge, ‘where no art, holy or profane, -was thoroughly studied, and some not -touched at all;’ those who were scrupulous -about taking the Oath of the Queen’s supremacy; -those who disliked to be forced, as -they were in some Colleges of the English -Universities, to enter the ministry; . . . -and those who were doubtful which religion -was the true one, and were disgusted that -they were forced into one without being -allowed opportunity of inquiring into the -other.” The spirit of Douay was not reactionary, -but the best spirit of the English -Renaissance. It had, besides, a character -or atmosphere holy and bright, not formed -by mere human culture: it was as “a garden -enclosed, and a fountain sealed.” Campion -found there a peace such as he had -never known. He had already, at Oxford, -given seven years to philosophy, and six -more to Aristotle, positive theology, and -the Fathers. The study of scholastic theology -was dead in Oxford: Campion now -first took up the teachings of St. Thomas -Aquinas. He arrived in June, and in -August he bought a noble edition of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -<i>Summa</i> for his own use, in three volumes -folio. This was discovered in 1887 by -Canon Didiot of Lille, and it is now at the -Roehampton Noviciate. Several features -make it a particularly interesting relic: -Campion’s signature, with the date of his -purchase, on the flyleaf; various beautifully -executed little drawings, underlinings, and -a host of marginal notes in Latin. By far -the most touching of these relates to what -St. Thomas quotes from Gennadius on the -baptism of blood. Blessed Edmund Campion -wrote in a tall, bold hand, over against -this passage, the one musing word, “Martyrdom.” -Canon Didiot, with that intimate -touch of French sympathy, calls it “<i>mot -radieux et prophétique</i>.”</p> - -<p>For nearly two years Campion followed -the course of scholastic theology, taking his -degree of Bachelor in January, 1573. He -then received Minor Orders, and was ordained -Sub-deacon. All went happily for -him at Douay. He was again at his old -work, and, as ever, he won the highest -opinions from those among whom he -moved. In his Oxford days he had always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -held lofty standards before his pupils: -“never to deliquesce into sloth, nor to -dance away your time, nor to live for rioting -and pleasure . . . but to give yourselves -up to virtue and learning, and to -reckon this the one, great, glorious and -royal road.” But the feeling in the exhortations -of his later life is tenfold deeper, -and strikes a far more haunting note of -duty towards England, and towards the -Church. This is a passage from the revised -<i>De Juvene Academico</i>, which had first been -sketched out years before in Dublin. -“Listen to our Heavenly Father asking -back his talents with usury! . . . Behold, -by the wickedness of the wicked the house -of God is devoted to flames and to destruction; -numberless souls are being deceived, -are being shaken, are being lost, any one -of which is worth more than the empire of -the whole world. . . . Sleep not while the -Enemy watches; play not while he devours -his prey; sink not into idleness and folly -while his fangs are wet with your brothers’ -blood. It is not wealth nor liberty nor station, -but the eternal inheritance of each of us,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -the very life-blood of our souls, our spirits, -and our lives, that suffers. See, then, my -dearest young scholars and friends, that we -lose none of this precious time, but carry -hence a plentiful and rich crop, enough to -supply the public want, and to gain for ourselves -the reward of dutiful sons.” One of -those who listened to these words was destined -to become the proto-martyr of the -English Continental Seminaries: Cuthbert -Mayne, a dear pupil of Campion’s, who as -a Devon lad had come up to Oxford and St. -John’s, had first conformed to the new -regulations, and served as College Chaplain, -then awakened from his delusion, and fled -over seas for conscience’ sake, “not to -escape danger, but to be prepared for it,” -in response to one of Campion’s burning -letters. This letter was intercepted, but its -purport had reached him, and decided him.</p> - -<p>In the spring of 1573, Campion found -himself driven to a course he had not contemplated -on coming to Douay. As he -slowly saw his way, he followed it, to horizon -beyond horizon. He had many steps -to take, because in his thirst for perfection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -he had far to travel. He told Dr. Allen -he wished to leave his present life, go on -pilgrimage, in the spirit of penance, to the -Tomb of the Apostles at Rome, and there -seek admission into the Society of Jesus. -The mediæval Orders would have less attraction -for Campion: he was an intensely -“modern” man. Now this was a severe -blow to Allen: hardly less so to others of -Campion’s circle. Campion, the pride, the -example, the hope of the Seminary, to quit -it for good, and to quit it in order to join -the most recent of religious communities—one -which as yet had few English members! -It was inexplicable. But Allen, like -the great-hearted and broad-minded commander-in-chief -he was, let him go without -protest. He little foresaw that far from -losing his most promising champion, he -was but lending him to better masters of -the interior life than himself, and would -receive his trained strength again in the -English Mission’s spiritual day of battle.</p> - -<p>Campion set out on foot across the Continent -for Rome, along that road “trodden -by many a Saxon king and English saint,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -to the Apostles’ shrine.” His companions -walked with him all the first day; but the -next morning he sent them back, and -pushed on alone. Solitude was henceforth -his choice, whenever duty permitted. He -must have had many strange adventures -during that spring journey. We know of -one of them, though not from him. At -some point of the route, probably on the -northern Italian border, he came face to -face with an old friend, an Oxonian, and -a Protestant. The horseman first rode past -the poor mendicant on the highway, and -then was prompted by some dim sense of -recognition to return and speak to him. On -realizing that it was really Edmund Campion -whom he used to know “in great -pomp of prosperity,” he showed much concern, -proffered his good-will and his purse, -and begged to hear how Campion had -fallen into that ill plight. But the pilgrim -refused aid; and the other traveller heard -something then and there of the “contempt -of this world, and the eminent dignity of -serving Christ in poverty,” which greatly -moved him: and “us also,” adds Robert<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -Parsons of Balliol, “that remained yet in -Oxford, when the report came to our ears.” -A strange tale it must have seemed to those -who knew their Master of Arts and all his old -fastidiousness! He was by now a saint in -the making, and they were fast losing touch -with him. Personal holiness is, so to speak, -a mining country: its progress and its -wealth are underground, unguessed-at by -the careless passer-by. A saint is a mystery -because he walks so closely in the -shadow of God, who is the Great Mystery.</p> - -<p>When Campion reached Rome, and had -paid his devotions to the holy places, he -went to call upon Cardinal Gesualdi, who, -as he stated afterwards, “having some -liking of me, would have been the means -to prefer me . . . but I, resolved what -course to take, answered that I meant not -to serve any man, but to enter into the -Society of Jesus, thereof to vow and to be -professed.” With this intention, Campion -sought out the newly-elected head of that -Society, Father Everard of Liège, whose -surname was generally Latinized into Mercurianus, -from Mercœur, his native village.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -He was fourth in his office, having succeeded -that great personality St. Francis -Borgia, on St. George’s Day, April 23, -1573. Biographers have represented that -Campion had a half-year’s delay in Rome -before he was able to apply for admission -to the Society; but such was not the case. -He promptly presented himself, and was -received as Mercœur’s first recruit, and -received not as a postulant, but as a novice. -As Anthony Wood tells us, “he was -esteemed by the General of that Order to -be a person every way complete.” Four -years later, Campion most affectionately -thanked his own old tutor, John Bavand, for -unasked “introductions, help and money,” -which had been supplied since he came to -Rome. He speaks of himself as “one -whom you knew never could repay you, -but who was at the point, so to speak, -of death. . . . You were munificent to me -when I was going to enter the sepulchral -rest of religion.” The aid he would not -accept for himself on his journey from one -friend, he had accepted in the city (and -spent, no doubt, in almsgiving) from another.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -Perhaps Bavand was abroad, and -heard of that incident which came to pass -on the road: certainly, he was one from -whom Campion could not in chivalry -refuse whatever he chose to share with him.</p> - -<p>The Society of Jesus had been founded -only six years before Campion was born. -It had as yet no English “Province,” that -is, no members living under the English -flag with a domestic government of their -own. But Edmund Campion was already -well known to the Provincials on the Continent, -who had a warm contest over him, -every one of them wishing to add such a -promising soldier to his own wing of the -army of the Lord. As it fell out, Bohemia -won. Campion was sent as one of a company -to Vienna, and then from Vienna to -Prague, where the Noviciate was, with -Father Avellanedo, Confessor to the Empress, -a man of wide experience. He was -so deeply edified by his companion that, -he told Fr. Parsons long after, it had kept -him all his life “much affectioned” towards -England and Englishmen. Prague -was in a miserable, godless state: the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -Catholics were poor and few: the great -University had perished: and all this was -due to the ruin, moral and material, produced -by the preaching, at the dawn of the -fifteenth century, of John Hus. That Hus -got his Socialistic ideas from Wyclif was a -fact never out of Campion’s mind while in -Bohemia: for he thought that England -owed some reparation to a country which -she had helped to spoil, and he was more -than willing to pay his part of that debt.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>VI<br /> - -<small>THE WISHED-FOR DAWN: BOHEMIA: -1573-1579</small></h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">CAMPION stayed but two months at -Prague, as the small Noviciate was -removed to Brünn in Moravia, where -the inhabitants were most hostile to Catholicism. -The Bishop of Olmütz begged the -Jesuits to help him so far as their Rule permitted. -Novices were sent out among the -neighbouring villages, to catechize and instruct -the poorer Catholics; and no one had -so instant a success in this little enterprise -as “God’s Englishman.” At the year’s -end his Novice Master, John Paul Campanus, -became Rector of the College in -Prague, and took Edmund Campion back -with him. The latter left a good deal of -his heart within the gray and austere walls -of Brünn, as two of his charming letters -show. In the old garden, under a mulberry -tree, he had had a wonderful vision:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -Our Lady stood there, smiling at him, and -offering him a purple robe. He knew the -portent of martyrdom, but for long hid it -in his heart. At Prague Campion continued -and increased his Douay employments. -He opened the October term with -what was called a “glorious peroration”. -As Professor of Rhetoric, he wrote, in 1574, -a beautiful little treatise on that subject so -familiar to him. His duty was to be first -in the house to rise and last to go to bed; -he spent his recreation-time catechizing -children, receiving converts, visiting the -prison and the hospital, or helping the -cook in the kitchen! In January, 1575, he -set up at his College a branch Confraternity -of the Immaculate Conception, or Sodality -of Our Lady, of which he became president. -About the same time he made his first -vows. He was continually called upon for -great College occasions, and to pronounce -public panegyrics. “Whatever had to be -done,” says his pompous but sympathetic -biographer Bombino, “was laid upon -him.” On getting a fresh task he would -ask his Superior, in a spirit of perfect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -humility and confidence, if he was thought -strong enough to add that to the rest? and -if the answer were Yes, he shouldered the -new duty at once, much to the wonder -of others. “I am in a continual bloom -of health,” he writes gallantly to his “dearest -Parsons,” who had just entered the -Society; “I have no time whatever to be -ill in!” Two sacred plays (six hours did -it take to perform each of them!) came -from Campion’s truly dramatic pen in 1577. -One was on the Sacrifice of Abraham; one -on the melancholy career of King Saul. -It is a matter of much regret that these are -lost. He seems also to have composed -dialogues and scenes for his own scholars, -and to have put together at this same time -his spirited account of the origin of the -English schism, in a narrative (in Latin) -of <i>The Divorce of King Henry VIII from -his Wife and from the Church</i>. It was -printed by Harpesfield, long after Campion’s -death.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Rudolph II had succeeded -to the imperial throne; and the “magnificently -provided” Envoy who was sent to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -Prague, bearing the congratulations of -Queen Elizabeth, was none other than Sir -Philip Sidney. Sidney’s mind was set -upon seeing his old friend Campion, and -talking with him; but he managed only -with difficulty to carry out his wishes. He -went officially in the Emperor’s train to -hear his friend (not yet in priest’s orders) -preach, and on his return to England unguardedly -spoke with delight of the sermon. -Whenever Sidney visited the Continent he -was supposed to become tainted with a -hankering after Catholicism, though in all -his public actions he was conspicuously Protestant. -Campion, who knew him from boyhood -and was not given to misjudgment, -believed that he had almost won over the -star of English chivalry: “this young man -so wonderfully beloved and admired,” he -calls him in 1576; a testimony doubly interesting, -when we remember that Philip -Sidney was then but three-and-twenty, to -the effect which his short life made upon all -his contemporaries. “He had much conversation -with me,” Campion’s letter goes on, -“and I hope not in vain, for to all appearances<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -he was most keen about it. I commend -him to your remembrances at Mass, since -he asked the prayers of all good men, and -at the same time put into my hands alms -to be distributed to the poor for him; this -trust I have discharged.” He ends by -hoping that some of the missionaries then -going back to England from Douay will -have “opportunity of watering this plant -. . . poor wavering soul!” Fr. Parsons -in his <i>Life of Campion</i> tells us that Sidney -“professed himself convinced, but said that -it was necessary for him to hold on the -course which he had hitherto followed.” -Such was the sad answer of Felix to St. -Paul.</p> - -<p>Campion’s thoughts had turned often of -late to another friend, Gregory Martin, -who had left overcrowded Douay for the -Seminary newly founded in the heart of -Rome, in the ancient English hospice for -pilgrims. Campion longed to turn his -fellow-priest into a Jesuit, for he loved his -own Society in the extreme; but that was -not to be. A letter to Martin, glowing -with that interior fire which was shed out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -from Edmund Campion upon everything -he touched, ends most tenderly. “Since -for so many years we two had in common -our College, our meals, our studies, our -friends and our enemies, let us for the rest -of our lives make a more close and binding -union, that we may have the fruit of our -friendship in heaven. For there also I will, -if I can, sit at your feet.”</p> - -<p>After years filled with literary and -academic labour in two Colleges, and -blessed with marked growth in holiness, -Edmund Campion was ordained priest by -the Archbishop of Prague. His first Mass -was said on the Feast of the Nativity of Our -Lady, September 8, 1578. Following his -General’s express command, he dismissed -the old unhappy scruple about his Oxford -diaconate, and it troubled him no more. -He was made Professor of Philosophy. -“You are to know,” he pleasantly says, -“that I am foolishly held to be an accomplished -sophist!” During the course of -this year 1578, he wrote his last and most -famous drama, now lost, on St. Ambrose -and the Emperor Theodosius, which, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -acted, made a tremendous stir. He became -ever more and more noted as a preacher, -a “sower of eternity” in the popular heart, -as well as the favourite orator when -grandees died and were buried in state. -But all this time his mind and heart were -far away.</p> - -<p>No one ever practised religious obedience -in a more heroic spirit; yet he secretly -longed to throw his life and his labours -directly into the balance for England’s -sake. He knew what was going on there, -and his thoughts seem never once to have -turned towards pikes, or any political -remedy; his whole ambition was, as he -said in one letter, to “torture our envious -foe with good deeds,” and in another, “to -catch them by the prayers and tears at -which they laugh.” His long-dear Cuthbert -Mayne, of whom he had lost sight for -awhile, had given up his life for the Faith -at Launceston, November 29, 1577. He -had been captured near Probus; his wealthy -host, Francis Tregian, was attainted of -præmunire, and his children completely -beggared. This young Westcountryman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -had a character all his own. He had been -charged with nothing but the exercise of -his priestly functions, and was offered his -life, on the day of his execution, if he would -but swear that the Queen was Supreme -Head of the Church of England. “Upon -this,” continues the chronicle, “he took the -Bible into his hands, made the sign of the -Cross upon it, kissed it, and said: ‘The -Queen neither ever was, nor is, nor ever -shall be, the Head of the Church of England!’” -Campion had only recently heard -the news in the August of 1579. One can -read between the lines of a passage like -this: “We all thank you much for your -account of Cuthbert’s martyrdom; it gave -many of us a divine pleasure. Wretch that -I am, how far has that novice distanced -me! May he be favourable to his old -friend and tutor! Now shall I boast of -these titles more than ever before.” Within -the next six months Edmund Campion -was to see the beginning of his heart’s -desire.</p> - -<p>Dr. Allen, the founder of Douay, was in -Rome to organize the English College; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -there he brought all his persuasion to bear -upon the General of the Society of Jesus -and his consultors, that the English Jesuits -might be allowed to join the English -secular priests in the pressing redemption -of their distracted country. There were the -gravest reasons for and against the proposal, -but the answer given to Dr. Allen -was that the Society would do its best to -supply missioners thenceforward, and that -Robert Parsons and Edmund Campion -should be sent first as forerunners of the -rest. Allen was naturally overjoyed. While -Mercœur, the Father-General, wrote officially -to Campion’s Superior at Prague, -Allen wrote a moving letter to Campion -himself: “My father, brother, son,” he -calls him, “make all haste and come, my -dearest Campion . . . from Prague to -Rome, and thence to our own England.” -. . . “God, in whose hands are the issues, -has at last granted that our own Campion, -with his extraordinary gifts of wisdom and -grace, shall be restored to us. Prepare -yourself, then, for a journey, for a work, for -a trial.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> - -<p>The imaginations of Campion’s comrades -at Prague were touched to the quick by -the prospect opening before their happy -brother. One of these bore witness to the -fragrance of his own thoughts by painting -a garland of roses and lilies on the wall of -Campion’s little room, just at the bed’s -head. A white-haired Silesian, Father -James Gall, wrote in scroll fashion, by -night, over the outer door of that same -little room: “P[ater] Edmundus Campianus, -Martyr.” For such a romantic -irregularity the old saint was reprimanded. -He replied quite simply: “But I had to -do it!” Poor Campion, who was shy, had -seen both these things, before Campanus, -the sympathetic Rector, gave him his -marching orders to start at once for Rome. -“The Fathers do verily seem to suspect -something about me; I hope their suspicions -may come true!” he said. “God’s will -be done, not mine.” And then, adds that -first English biographer who so well knew -him and so much loved him: “Being -scarce able to hold tears for joy and tenderness -of heart, he went to his chamber, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -there upon his knees to God satisfied his -appetite of weeping and thanksgiving, and -offered himself to His divine disposition -without any exception or restraint: whether -it were to rack, cross-quartering, or any -other torment or death whatsoever.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>VII<br /> - -<small>A LONG MARCH: ROME, GENEVA, -RHEIMS: 1580</small></h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">FROM Prague to Munich, and from -Munich to Innsbrück, Campion had -the distinguished and very friendly -company of Ferdinand, brother of the -reigning Duke of Bavaria. Afterwards he -went on alone on foot, as he was always -glad to do, as far as Padua. Here he took -horse for Rome, which he reached just before -Palm Sunday, April 5, 1580, coming -“in grave priest’s garb,” we are told, -“with long hair, after the fashion of Germany.” -He was informed by the Father-General -that he was to start for England -nine or ten days after Easter. Campion -begged “neither to be Superior of the expedition -nor to have anything to do with -the preparations,” and that during the fortnight -he might be free from all except<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -necessary cares, in order to make a more -devotional entrance upon the life ahead of -him. “And the like did, for their part, -and had done, all the Lent before, those -other priests also of the English Seminary,” -says Parsons, speaking of many -seculars afterwards martyred, “that were -appointed by their Superiors to go with us -in this mission. . . . All these together -used such notable and extraordinary diligence -for preparing themselves well in the -sight of God . . . as was matter of edification -to all Rome.”</p> - -<p>Rome was a most religious place at that -time, not only in its enduring associations, -but in the temper of the people. One in large -measure responsible for its spirit of penance -and prayer, and loving charity to the poor, -was then living at San Girolamo, opposite -the old English hospital, now turned into -a College: this was St. Philip Neri, the -most venerated and endearing figure in all -the great city. He knew the successive -little English bands; when he passed them -in the streets, cheerful St. Philip used to -smile tenderly, and give what must have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -been to them a thrilling greeting: “‘Hail, -Little Flowers of Martyrdom!’” the opening -line of the Breviary Hymn for Holy -Innocents’ Day. Parsons and Campion, -and the secular clerics associated with them, -may have originated the custom of going -over to San Girolamo for a special fatherly -blessing before setting forth to almost certain -death. There is a tradition (mentioned -by Newman) that one of that company did -not care to seek St. Philip’s prayers, -and that afterwards he failed to persevere. -This is thought to be the lay student, John -Paschall, or Pascal, who was apparently of -an unstable disposition, and is known to -have forsworn the Faith, when his great -chance came to profess it.</p> - -<p>The Pope, Gregory XIII, showed untiring -and fatherly interest in all the missionaries, -and their travelling funds were his personal -gift. He wept over them in bestowing his -parting benediction. Campion set out this -time with seven English priests, Ralph -Sherwin, a former Fellow of Exeter College, -among them; also with two lay -brothers, and two students. Others joined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -them from Rheims and Louvain, some of -them advanced in years and well known. -The party adopted the novel and almost -daredevil fashion of going on foot; but, -mounted and riding privately in advance of -it, were its two eldest members. One was -the holy octogenarian Thomas Goldwell, -the Lord Bishop of St. Asaph, who had -been offered by Queen Mary a transfer to -the See of Oxford, and refused it. He was -destined to be the last survivor of the deposed -and scattered Catholic hierarchy in -England, who had all but one refused the -unheard-of Oath in 1559, and had all been -deprived of their Sees that same year. -Bishop Goldwell now, twenty years afterwards, -was one of two who were living; -and his colleague, Watson, Bishop of -Lincoln, was in prison. The other senior -missionary was his companion, Dr. Nicholas -Morton, Canon Penitentiary of St. Peter’s, -who had done something already towards -the making of English history. The first -little Jesuit group of three was commanded -by Fr. Robert Parsons, a born organizer, -a man of splendid resources, afterwards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -celebrated, and much loved and hated. For -convenience, as for safety, they all put on -secular dress. Campion, however, would -buy no new clothes, but arrayed himself in -an old buckram suit, with a shabby cloak. -When rallied on his highly inelegant appearance, -he remarked with the gay spirit -so like that of another “blissful martyr,” -Sir Thomas More, that a man going forth -to be hanged need trouble himself little -about the fashion!</p> - -<p>The roads were bad beyond any modern -idea of badness, and it poured rain for the -first nine or ten days. Campion, the least -robust of the party, and the most poorly -clad, fell ill under such combined discomforts, -and while crossing the Apennines had -to be lifted into the saddle of one of the -very few horses which had been brought -along for the sake of the infirm. As soon -as he was well enough he resumed his daily -habit of saying Mass very early, and of -walking on, in the later morning hours, till -he was a mile ahead of the rest, to make -his meditation, read his Office, and say the -Litany of the Saints, before he should be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -overtaken. He and his comrades planned -their spiritual life, day by day, with the -most careful regularity. Their talk was -always of souls: “the Harvest” was their -word for England, or else “the Warfare.” -In the chilly spring twilights Campion -would push on ahead again, “to make his -prayers alone, and utter his zealous affections -to his Saviour without being heard -or noted.”</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 364px;"> -<img src="images/i-093.jpg" width="364" height="600" alt="Writing above doorway; man in bed in room" /> -<div class="caption">“P(ater) Edmundus Campianus, Martyr.”</div> -<div class='attrib'><a href="#Page_73">p 73.</a></div> -</div> - -<p>The route lay through Siena, Florence, -Bologna. In the latter city there was a -week’s delay, due to an injury to Fr. Parsons’ -leg. The band of twelve was entertained -by the Cardinal Archbishop of that -See, who was the historian of the Council -of Trent: Gabriel Paleotto. Like Avellanedo, -like many another Italian, Paleotto -loved the English. “Were he a born Englishman, -he could not love them more,” -wrote Agazzario to Allen, at that time when -the national temperament was much more -expressive and responsive than it is now. -At Milan, in the early part of May, the -future confessors and martyrs were to find -another and a greater, also “much affectioned”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -towards them, who received them -most hospitably, and even asked the English -College for other relays of guests in -the future. This was the great Archbishop, -St. Charles Borromeo. Bishop Goldwell, -who had passed through Milan days before -the walkers reached it, had been, in 1563, -Vicar-General to St. Charles, and would -have bespoken his interest in the little -party. The reverend host complimented -Ralph Sherwin by asking him to deliver a -sermon before him, and as for Campion, -he was required to discourse daily after -dinner. St. Charles himself, all the while, -whether vocal or silent, was acting upon the -pilgrims as a <i>Sursum corda</i>. “Without -saying a word, he preached to us sufficiently,” -says the ever-appreciative Parsons, -“and so we departed from him -greatly edified and exceedingly animated.” -How charming is the forgotten use of the -last word, meaning “souled,” or, as we -still say, “heartened,” “inspirited!” Such -indeed is the true function of the saints.</p> - -<p>From Turin the little company made for -Mount Cenis, and young, middle-aged and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -old lustily climbed it; and then among the -torrents and boulders of that glorious -scenery, they came down into Savoy. At -St. Jean Maurienne they found the roads -blocked by the Spanish soldiery, and at -Aiguebelle ran across other disturbances, -caused by the wars of religion raging in -the Dauphiné. As there was nothing to do -but abandon the direct route, they turned -aside and entered Geneva, the hotbed of -Calvinism, and the home of Theodore -Beza, the learned apostate who had succeeded -to Calvin’s leadership. There was -a close community of spirit between Geneva -and the English Reformation. However, -Switzerland, then as now, had liberal laws, -and any traveller, Catholic or Protestant, -was free to pass, unmolested though not -unquestioned, three days in the city. It -looks decidedly like an alloy of mischief on -the part of five of the English that they -went to call in a body on Beza! They -were admitted as far as the court by -Claudine, his stolen wife, whom they -had all heard of, and were not ill-pleased -to see. When the famous greybeard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -came out they managed, after passing -their compliments, to worry him with -some telling controversial shots. Campion -knew not how to be rude: but Sherwin -found amusement, ever afterwards, in remembering -how that honest fellow “Patrick” -stood and looked and talked, cap in -hand, “facing out” (such is Sherwin’s -shockingly boyish language in a private -letter), “the old doting heretical fool.” -The celebrity so described behaved rather -vaguely, and, in the course of nature, could -not have been sorry to see the last of his -besiegers, and of their wits, sharpened with -life in the open air. He bowed them out -with less abruptness than might have been -expected—indeed, with a certain show of -civility; and went back to his books. Later, -Sherwin and two other youngsters, in a -midnight discussion with some English -Protestant students, actually challenged -Beza and all Calvindom to a trial of theologies, -with the drastic proviso that the defeated -party should be burnt in the marketplace! -Meanwhile Campion, in the <i>rôle</i> of -“Patrick,” did his share of “facing out”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -other worthies in Geneva, besides finding -an old University friend there, who “used -him lovingly,” but reported that an alarm -had been raised, and encouraged the departure -of the paladins. These, halting on -a spur of the Jura before nightfall, with -Lake Leman spread beneath them, said -<i>Te Deum</i> together, that they were safely -out of the city. There seems to have been -a good deal of curiosity or bravado mingled -with their polemical zeal, and Campion’s -always tender conscience would have readily -accepted, if it did not suggest, a suitable -penance for the raid. So off they trudged -nine steep, contrite, extra miles (“extreme -troublesome,” we are told they were) to -the nearest shrine, that of St. Claude, over -the French border.</p> - -<p>They entered Rheims the last day of -May, 1580, for in Rheims was the soul, if -not the body, of the College now driven, -partly for convenience, partly by force of -trouble, out of Douay. That College was -never re-formed: but the scholar-exiles -lived close together, up and down the street -still called <i>Rue des Anglais</i>. The travellers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -were rapturously welcomed by all, especially -by the great Englishman whom the old -narrative quaintly calls “Mr. Dr. Allen, -the President.” Here at Rheims the venerable -Bishop of St. Asaph fell ill of a fever. -He was never again to cross the Channel. -By the time he had fairly recovered, -rumours of his movements had naturally -got abroad, and the Pope was unwilling to -imperil so important and precious a person. -While still a convalescent at Rheims, Goldwell -wrote to his Holiness in person, -begging him to listen to no objections, but -to anoint at once three or four new Bishops -to shepherd their own needy Church; and -he very touchingly assures the Holy Father, -knowing that the question of a fitting maintenance -for them would arise, that God had -so inclined the minds of all the English -priests whom he knew to put up with their -penniless and hunted daily lives, and the -vision of the gallows always before them, -that any of these, once consecrated, would -be entirely contented to go on as poorly as -he had gone heretofore, like a Bishop of -the Early Church. The application failed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -“Etiquette and routine prevailed,” says -Simpson, in summing up this incident.</p> - -<p>In truth, it was not that good-will was -lacking. Nobody on the Catholic side believed -that the new sad order of things in -England was going to last, and consequently, -waiting and postponing in a matter -of this sort, could not seem the disastrous -mistake which it really was. The upshot, -in any case, was that the good Bishop was -recalled to Rome, and there died; and that -for thirty weary years the poor flock struggled -on without any qualified prelate to -supply their crying spiritual wants and hold -them together. Then the first provisional -leader, known as the Archpriest, was appointed, -and later came Vicars Apostolic. -When finally the longed-for mitres were -seen again in the land, they had been -absent too long. The nominal link snapped; -the great native tradition was broken; the -titles of the ancient Sees, given up, as if in -sleep, by their lineal heirs, were never reclaimed. -So far as surface connection goes,—and -it goes far indeed with people in -general, who neither reason nor read, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -get all their ideas from what they see and -hear, this was the most tragic loss which -could possibly have befallen the post-Reformation -Church. (The English Benedictines -kept the thread of their own -dynasty in their hands: but this did not -affect the Catholic body, and the lay interest.) -The stranger who could not destroy -the life and blessing of the firstborn has -had possession, for three centuries and a -half, by royal grant, of his home and of -his very name.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>VIII<br /> - -<small>INHOSPITABLE HOME: 1580</small></h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM had -a wonderfully well-organized spy-system: -far superior, as Simpson remarks, -to the attempts of the Spaniards in -the same line. Therefore each of the missionaries -was cautioned to travel under a -name other than his own. Campion fell back -upon his beloved alias of “Mr. Patrick,” as -he had done for the brief visit to Geneva. -His friends made him drop it, as they neared -the Channel; being Irish, it was doubly dangerous, -since here at Rheims the home-goers -got their first tardy news of the so-called -Geraldine insurrection in Ireland, acted -upon in July, 1579, and crushed almost as -soon by the massacre at Smerwick in Kerry. -It had been nursed by European feeling -against Elizabeth’s policy in Flanders, and -her piracies on the high seas; and the great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -religious grudge found it a convenient opening. -Dr. Nicholas Sander, who was not a -Papal Legate, but stood none the less for -the Pope’s active good-will in the matter, -joined the expedition with James Fitzmaurice, -Spanish soldiers, Roman officers, -ships and supplies. That expedition did not, -as we know, dislodge Jezebel from her -throne, but it gave sufficient heartbreak to -our messengers of the Gospel of Peace, who -were now sure to be mixed up with it in the -popular mind. The situation was certainly -an awkward one. It gave unique plausibility -to Walsingham’s claim that (to quote -Fr. Pollen) “the preaching of the old Faith -was only a political propaganda.” Father -Robert Parsons faced the future, on behalf -of the rest, in the spirit of a brave man. -“Seeing that it lay not in our hands to -remedy the matter, our consciences being -clear, we resolved ourselves, with the -Apostle, ‘through evil report and good -report’ to go forward only with the spiritual -action we had in hand. And if God had -appointed that any of us should suffer in -England under a wrong title, as Himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -did upon the case of a malefactor, we should -lose nothing thereby, but rather gain with -Him who knew the truth, and Whom only -in this enterprise we desired to please.”</p> - -<p>Danger was a spur and not a bridle to -Campion’s devoted will. But he began to -foresee little fruit from labours on his native -ground, with so much fierce misunderstanding -against him; and to fear that he had not -done well in so gladly laying down what -was, after all, steady and successful work in -Bohemia. With this buzzing scruple he -went to the President for advice. Allen replied -that the work in “Boemeland,” excellent -at all points as it had been, yet could -be done by any equally qualified person, or -“at least by two or three” such persons, -whereas in his own necessitous England -Campion would be given strength and grace -to supply for many men.</p> - -<p>At Rheims, during his waiting-time, -Campion preached one of his famous sermons -to the students. It gave him a pathetic -pleasure to be complimented upon his ready -English, of which he had spoken little in -private, and not a word in public, for eight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -years. His text is reported to have been -Luke xii. 49: “I am come to send fire upon -the earth; and what will I but that it shall -be kindled?” and at one point he cried out -in so earnest a manner: “Fire, fire, fire, -fire!” that those outside the Chapel ran for -the water-buckets! But a careful reading -of what was then spoken suggests quite a -different passage of Holy Scripture as present -in Campion’s mind. His theme was -the ruin wrought by the conflagration of -heresy, now attacking a third generation of -Christian souls, and to be put out, he says, -by “water of Catholic doctrine, milk of -sweet and holy conversation, blood of potent -martyrdom.” Isaiah lxiv. 11, runs: “Our -holy and our beautiful house where our -fathers praised Thee, is burned up with fire; -and all our pleasant things are laid waste.” -This very passage had been alluded to in -one of Campion’s former exhortations, and -may have been a favourite with him. The -whole trend, indeed, and every part of this -Rheims sermon bear out the thoughts not -of the Apostle’s page, but of the Prophet’s.</p> - -<p>Bishop Goldwell and Dr. Morton, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -highest in office of the missionary party, remained -at Rheims. Three Englishmen, a lay -Professor of Law, and two priests, joined in, -to fill up the gap, then another Jesuit, who -had been labouring in Poland: this was Fr. -Thomas Cottam, ordered home to restore his -health, but destined, as were so many of his -comrades, for martyrdom. The little band -of fifteen divided, and sailed from different -ports: Campion, with Parsons and one lay -brother, Ralph Emerson, headed for Calais -as their point of departure, going by way of -St. Omers, “not a little encouraged to think -that the first mission of St. Augustine and -his fellows into [our] island was by that -city.” Here there was another Jesuit College. -The Flemish Fathers croaked friendly -warnings in their ears, for it was common -rumour in St. Omers that the Queen’s -Council had full information of the appearance, -dress and movements of the exiles, -and had officers posted to waylay them on -arrival. They had come on foot nearly nine -hundred miles, and were not likely to give -up the object of their journey. But they -took precautions. It was decided that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -Parsons should go first, in military attire, -accompanied from the Low Countries by a -good youth who passed as his man George; -and that if Parsons got safely to Dover, he -was to send for Campion and the faithful -little soul Ralph Emerson. An English -gentleman “living over seas for his conscience,” -brought Fr. Parsons his fine disguise: -nothing less than a Captain’s uniform -of buff leather, with gold lace, big -boots, sword, hat, plume, and all. Campion, -when he had gone, sat down to write to the -General of the Society about him, with his -inevitably pictorial touch. “Father Robert -sailed from Calais after midnight. . . . They -got him up like a soldier: such a peacock! -such a swaggerer! . . . such duds, such a -glance, such a strut! A man must have a -sharp eye indeed,” he adds, “to catch any -glimpse of the holiness and modesty that -lurk there underneath it all.” He goes on to -explain how he is laying out money to buy -numerous and silly clothes “to dress up -myself and Ralph,” whereby “to cheat the -madness of this world.” Fr. Parsons, like -Campion himself in lesser <i>rôles</i>, must have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -been a dramatic genius, for arriving at -Dover on the 12th of June, and falling into -the hands of the searcher, he so won him -over, by the mere swagger and strut aforementioned, -as not only to be passed without -inquiry, but to be helped to a horse to carry -him to Gravesend. Thereupon the Captain -was quick to bespeak the interest of so unexpectedly -polite a functionary in his friend -“Mr. Edmunds,” described as a jewel-merchant -lying at St. Omers; and he gave -the searcher a letter recommending London -as a good market, to be forwarded post-haste -to that gentleman, and to be shown to the -searcher again by “Mr. Edmunds” himself -when he came over. And by the reception -of that letter Campion learned that Fr. -Parsons was scot-free, and speeded on his -way.</p> - -<p>On the Feast of his old College patron, -St. John the Baptist, “Mr. Edmunds,” followed -by Brother Ralph, his supposed servant, -boarded the vessel bound for Dover. -At daybreak they stepped ashore under the -white cliffs, and there kneeling a moment in -the shadow of a rock, Campion renewed his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -offering of himself, without reserve or condition, -to the God of Hosts, for the dark -“warfare” which lay before him.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the dispositions of the -searcher (who evidently put in no appearance) -had undergone a forced change. He -and the Mayor of the town had been reprimanded -by the Council for letting Papists -slip through their nets. Moreover, there -had been furnished, by a spy, a detailed -description of Cardinal Allen’s brother, who -was about to pass through Dover on his way -to relatives in Lancashire; and as Gabriel -Allen and Edmund Campion looked very -much alike, our jewel-merchant found himself -instantly under arrest. With an accuracy -which he was not in the least aware of, -the Mayor charged him and the lay brother -of being “foes to the Queen’s religion and -friends to the old Faith; with sailing under -false names, and with returning for the purpose -of propagating Popery.” Campion -offered to swear that he was not Gabriel -Allen, but offered in vain. The Mayor held -a hasty conference, and ordered a mounted -guard to carry both prisoners up to Sir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -Francis Walsingham and the Council. All -this time, Campion was praying to God for -deliverance, and earnestly begging St. John -the Baptist to intercede for himself and his -companion. They were waiting near the -closed door of a room. “Suddenly,” -wrote Campion himself long after, to the -Father-General, “suddenly cometh forth an -old man: God give him grace for his pains! -‘Well,’ quoth he, ‘it is agreed you shall -be dismissed: fare ye well.’” After which -the two Jesuits left without further notice -or opposition, and travelled as fast as ever -they could to London.</p> - -<p>Fr. Parsons had reached the city not without -adventure, but without mishap, a fortnight -before. Yet as no word had been -received since from him, Campion had no -idea how to proceed or whither to go; nor -could he inquire without arousing suspicion. -Fortunately Parsons had given to some -watchful young Catholics a description of -the jewel-merchant and his man: Ralph -Emerson was easily recognizable on account -of his extremely short stature. Thus they -had hardly touched the wharf at the Hythe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -before a stranger, Thomas Jay, stepped to -the gangway, with a welcoming gesture, -saying: “Mr. Edmunds, give me your -hand: I stay here for you, to lead you to -your friends.” Under this guidance Campion -reached London and Chancery Lane, -where he was clothed and armed, and provided -with a horse. He must have been -astonished to learn under whose roof he was -so safe and so comfortable: for it was none -other than that of the chief pursuivant! -Here was, indeed, a case of the bird nesting -in the cannon’s mouth. St. Augustine -warns us that we are not to think that -ungodly men are kept in this world for -nothing, nor that God has no good purposes -of His own to fulfil through them. -One cause of the miraculous preservation of -the ancient Faith under Elizabeth lay in the -fact that many an official, high and low, of -that time-serving Government, was in the -pay of the Recusant gentry. A strange situation -it was, and by no means an infrequent -one, when some of these, brought before the -magistrates, would be discharged on the -assurance of the bought-over official that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -prisoner was “an honest gentleman”: thus -averting all suspicion from the latter for the -time being.</p> - -<p>The band of lay Catholics, some of whom -Campion had known from boyhood, like -Henry Vaux and Richard Stanihurst, were -acting as friends, freely leagued together, as -occasion arose, for the helping of priests, -and the furthering of religion. Their time, -their thoughts, their self-sacrifice, their -purses, were at the service particularly of -the Jesuits, persons habitually being -described by Sir Walter Mildmay in the -Star Chamber as “lewd runagates,” “a -sort of hypocrites,” “a rabble of vagrant -friars.” The leader of them all, in his inspiring -zeal, though not highest in station, -was George Gilbert, a rich young squire -owning estates (which were confiscated in -the end) in Buckinghamshire and Suffolk. -He was a convert, a great rider and athlete, -dear to many; but in secret a lover of apostolic -poverty, living for others: in short, a -saint. He spent himself to the last breath -for the Faith as truly as if he had perished -at Tyburn Tree. In banishment, he still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -served the same cause by his forethought -and his generosity in the use of such worldly -goods as were left to him: for he became -responsible, at Rome, for the series of paintings -of the English martyrdoms which gave -their chief historical standing to the Beatifications -of 1886. Thus Gilbert, living and -dead, was Blessed Edmund Campion’s -availing friend and lover.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>IX<br /> - -<small>SKIRMISHING: THE ENGLISH COUNTIES: -1580</small></h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">THE devoted George Gilbert, his -fellowship of young men, and -those whom they gathered together, -met on the Feast of SS. Peter and -Paul, June 29, to hear, for the first time, -Fr. Campion preach. It was no easy task to -find a safe and suitable auditorium; but -Lord Paget, one of their own number, was -daring enough to hire from Lord Norreys -the hall of a great house in the neighbourhood -of Smithfield. All the servants and -porters were turned out for the occasion, -and gentlemen took their places. Within -a few days, however, rumours about Campion’s -sermon and about Campion were -flying over the city. There were a number -of spies about, instructed by the Council, -pretending to be lapsed Catholics or unsettled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -Protestants, and trying hard to bag -such new and shining birds as the Jesuits; -but Campion had a friend at court who -warned him, and therefore held only private -conferences in friendly houses with those -whom he knew. The missionaries were -sent to strengthen the wills of the wavering -Catholics, and not primarily to make converts. -Personal dealings with would-be -converts were never attempted except as -supplementary to the action of the lay -helpers, who took all the soundings, and -gave any needful catechizing. When Parsons, -who had been away in the country, -got back to town, Mr. Henry Orton and -Fr. Robert Johnson had been tracked and -imprisoned, through Sledd, the apostate informer; -and it became plain to the rest of -the little band gathered about Parsons and -Campion that, for reasons immediate and -remote, both Fathers must be spirited -away. Each went mounted, with a companion, -Gervase Pierrepoint being Campion’s -guide; and at Hoxton, in July, the -priests parted for their separate fields of -action.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> - -<p>Just before that, however, there arrived as -a deputy to them, Mr. Thomas Pounde of -Belmont, the best-known, perhaps, of all -English prisoners for the Faith: he was -committed to gaol sixteen times and passed -thirty years in durance. Pounde had -managed to bribe the gaoler of the Marshalsea -to let him out for this short journey. -Most anxious for the good repute of the -Fathers, he rode post-haste to tell them that -enemies in London were spreading the report -that they had come over for political -purposes, and that if in the midst of their -apostolic work in the shires they should be -taken and executed, the Government would -be sure to issue pamphlets, as was its habit, -defaming their motives, and slandering the -Catholic body. Therefore he begged both -Jesuits to write “a vindication of their presence -and purpose in England,” which, -signed and sealed, might be given to the -public, if things came to the worst. The -certain accusation and its answer had been -debated before, in council, by many clergy, -who had contented themselves with agreeing -to swear, when called upon, that they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -had no business whatever in hand but that -of religion. But Campion now drew up -his own document then and there at a -table, while the others were talking. In it, -he declares that “my charge is of free cost -to preach the Gospel . . . to cry alarm -spiritual;” that “matters of state are things -which appertain not to my vocation,” and -are “straitly forbid”: things “from which -I do gladly estrange and sequester my -thoughts.” And never thinking of himself, -but fired with confidence in his cause, -he goes on to beg leave for a public presentment -of the Faith. He says, in the -course of this splendid little philippic: “I -should be loath to speak anything that -might sound of an insolent brag or challenge -. . . in this noble realm, my dear -country.” It shows completely the partisan -temper of the time that his statement got -exactly that name, and no other, fastened -upon it. It was called everywhere “Campion’s -Brag and Challenge,” and its -modest author was contemned and ridiculed -for the implication that his own powers -were so very superior that he must of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -course get the better of others in any -argument!</p> - -<p>Pounde took his copy, which Campion -forgot to seal, back to London, read it in -raptures, let it be seen, admired, talked -about, and transcribed: this was his curious -way of keeping a secret. The result was -that what was meant to meet a particular -crisis, and serve for a last will and testament, -became as common property, beforehand, -as any ballad sold in the streets. -Lively measures were at once taken by the -Bishop of Winchester; and the State, hypocritically -urging “conspiracy,” pounced -upon a host of Catholic lords and gentlemen. -Yet Campion’s little composition, -which bred all this fury, only asks for -“three sorts of indifferent and quiet -audience”: one hearing before the Lords -in Council, on the relation of the Church to -the English Government; the next before -the Heads of Houses of both Universities, -on the proofs of the truth of the Catholic -religion; the last before the courts spiritual -and temporal, “wherein I will justify the -said Faith by the common wisdom of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -laws standing.” Then he pleads in deferent -and almost affectionate words, for a -special audience of “her noble Grace” the -Queen. In his candour and fearless simplicity -he believed that opponents had only -to hear to be convinced, thus crediting them -with that earnestness in religious matters -which he possessed himself, and which only -a very few of the best Protestants of that -day shared with him. Campion closes his -appeal with a wonderfully beautiful reference -to the vowed Seminarian priests, and -in a lofty music of good English, worthy -to stand by any passage of like length in -the great prose classics. “Hearken to -those which spend the best blood in their -bodies for your salvation. Many innocent -hands are lifted up unto Heaven for you, -daily and hourly, by those English students -whose posterity shall not die, which, -beyond the seas, gathering virtue and -sufficient knowledge for the purpose, are -determined never to give you over, but -either to win you to Heaven or to die upon -your pikes. And touching our Society, be -it known unto you that we have made a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -league (all the Jesuits in the world, whose -succession and multitude must overreach -all the practices of England!) cheerfully to -carry the cross that you shall lay upon us, -and never to despair your recovery while -we have a man left to enjoy your Tyburn, -or to be racked with your torments, or to -be consumed with your prisons. The expense -is reckoned; the enterprise is begun; -it is of God: it cannot be withstood. So -the Faith was planted. So it must be restored. -If these my offers be refused, and -my endeavours can take no place, and I, -having run thousands of miles to do you -good, shall be rewarded with rigour, I have -no more to say, but recommend your case -and mine to Almighty God, the Searcher -of Hearts: Who send us of His grace, and -set us at accord before the Day of Payment, -to the intent we may at last be friends -in Heaven, where all injuries shall be forgotten.”</p> - -<p>Parsons’ work lay in Gloucester, Hereford, -Worcestershire, Warwickshire and -Derbyshire; Campion’s in the more -southerly Midlands. The wandering Levite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -with his attendant gentleman would approach -at evening, and with caution, the -friendly roof, either Catholic or, though -Protestant, containing Catholics, and be -received at the door as strangers, then conducted -to an inner room, where all who -seek the priest’s ministrations kneel and -ask for his blessing. That night all is got -ready, and confessions are heard, instructions -given, reconciliations effected; at -dawn there is Mass, preaching, and Holy -Communion; and the travellers depart for -the next household station. Most edifying -accounts are given of the devotion of good -married Confessors, who were scattered all -over the land. The Jesuits met with many -seculars, “whom we find in every place, -whereby both the people is well served, and -we much eased in our charge.” These -were the old Marian priests, active in obscurity. -The “harvest is wonderful great”: -so many show “a conscience pure, a -courage invincible, zeal incredible, a work -so worthy; the number innumerable, of -high degree, of mean calling . . . of every -age and sex.” “The solaces that are ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -intermingled with the miseries are so great -that they do not only countervail the fear -of what punishment temporal soever, but -by infinite sweetness make all worldly pains, -be they never so great, seem nothing,” for -the sake of “this good people which had -lived before, so many ages, in one only -Faith.” Day by day, running in and out -of all the busy heroic toil, is the fiery thread -of danger and alarm. “We are sitting -merrily at table, conversing familiarly on -matters of faith and devotion (for our talk -is generally of such things) when comes a -hurried knock at the door. . . . We all -start up and listen, like deer when they -hear the huntsman. . . . If it is nothing, -we laugh at our fright.” Then there was -calumny, a far more difficult thing to accept -in the same gay spirit. “They tear and -sting us with their venomous tongues, calling -us seditious, hypocrites; yea, heretics, -too! which is much laughed at. The -people hereupon is ours.” And again: -“The house where I am is sad: no other -talk but of the death, flight, prison, or -spoil of their friends; nevertheless, they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -proceed with courage. Very many, even at -this present, being restored to the Church, -new soldiers give in their names, while the -old offer up their blood, by which holy -hosts and oblations God will be pleased. -And we shall—no question!—by Him overcome.” -These are extracts from Campion’s -letters, and give a clear idea of his life -during his visitations of 1580-1.</p> - -<p>There were then many more Manor-houses, -kept up as such, than there are now; -most of those which Campion visited had -their hiding-place or “priests’ hole,” to -which he could always fly when safety demanded -it. He settled a host of weak -Catholics in their religion, and also received -a great many conspicuous converts. It will -be noted that the little Jesuit mission was -directed to the gentry. This was not -through accident, or partiality, or snobbery. -The gentry had most personal weight; they -were better able to protect a hunted man; -and they were naturally supposed to have -stricter notions of honour: this last was -a point on which everything depended. -Moreover, the old spirit of feudalism was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -not so dead but that through them all workmen -on their estates, or connected by interest -with them in the towns, could be reached -and influenced. In a hurried campaign, -every consideration of prudence and forethought -would choose them, so to speak, -as the outworks of the citadel.</p> - -<p>The country districts north and south were -all still favourable to Catholicism. London, -the University of Cambridge, and some -larger towns and seaports, especially in the -West, were half Puritan or Calvinistic, -half irreligious and indifferent. The ancient -Faith, as was well said by Sir Cuthbert -Sharpe, for the most part “still lay like -lees at the bottom of men’s hearts; and if -the vessel were ever so little stirred, came -to the top.” A thoughtful living writer -sums it up as his conclusion that England -would have resumed the Faith with a sigh -of relief, had it not been for the resentments -bred by the Catholic “plotters.” Considering -the frightful circumstances of the -body to which these men belonged, it is -putting too great a strain, perhaps, upon -human nature to expect smooth behaviour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -from every individual in it. The genuine -“plotters” were few. Against them stands -the passionate loyalty of our persecuted -minority, both all along, and in the one -great crisis. When the deliverer loomed -up in the shape of Philip’s Armada, blessed -and indulgenced like a crusade of old, where -were they, supposed to be so sick of Queen -and country? Hand in impoverished -pocket, strengthening the national defences; -cutlass on thigh, manning the English fleet.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>X<br /> - -<small>MANY LABOURS: AND A BOOK: 1580</small></h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">CAMPION passed four months of pleasant -weather in hard and happy -work, moving about Northamptonshire, -Berkshire, Oxfordshire. Some lovely -little spiritual adventure starred his path, -and the paths of others, wherever he went. -He must have seen more than once, from -some hilly road afar off, even if he never -entered it,</p> - -<p class="center"> -“The towery City, branchy between towers,”<br /> -</p> - -<p class="unindent">which was so dear to him to the last. In -October of this year, 1580, he was bidden -towards London as far as Uxbridge: farther -he could hardly come, without the gravest -peril, as the Privy Council were just issuing -their third warrant for the capture of -Jesuits. There he was joined by Fr. -Parsons and several other missionaries. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -conference was held: it was represented -that Norfolk and Lancashire were eager -to claim Fr. Campion’s ministrations, and -it was decided that he was to go to Lancashire, -preferable as being not only farther -from London and also “more affected to -the Catholic religion,” but as having better -private libraries. For they were now urging -Campion to write again: this time -something on the burning questions of the -day, aimed particularly at the Universities -(where his Challenge was still the staple of -daily talk), and therefore to be written in -Latin. We are not so sure, now-a-days, -that controversy does much good, but one -reason for that may be that we have few -Campions to carry it on. It is well to remember -that people then read nothing else, -except poetry! Campion’s work was his -famous <i>Decem Rationes Propositæ in -Causa Fidei</i>, or, as the title is given in its -only modern translation (1827), <i>Ten Reasons -for Renouncing the Protestant, and Embracing -the Catholic Religion</i>. At first -the author was for calling his thesis <i>Heresy -in Despair: De Hæresi Desperata</i>. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -counsellors agreed, amid laughter, that it -would be odd indeed to nail such a title as -that to the mast, when heresy was so powerful -and flourishing; but, according to Campion’s -own philosophy, there was no life -in an argument whose only premisses, as he -once said, are “curses, starvation, and the -rack.” Here we come back at once to his -root principle, which modern research so -fully justifies, in regard to the England of -his own day. A “gentleman saint” who -uttered many an ironic, but never a contemptuous -word, Campion could not be -persuaded that “the received religion” was -a genuine thing. He believed that temporal -interest alone led people to conform to the -new alterations and restrictions; that the -lay statesmen who were pushing things -through were concerned not with doctrine, -but only with negations of doctrine, and -that on the other side, nothing was so promising, -nothing so gloriously fruitful, as -persecutions and martyrdoms. First and -last, he had a strong dash of optimism. In -this spirit he began his last treatise, writing -it as best he could, depending on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -memory, and on such books as country -squires might have in their houses, and -putting it together in among the almost -incessant journeys, duties, fatigues and -alarms of the next few weeks.</p> - -<p>The two Jesuit friends parted at Uxbridge, -“with the tenderness of heart which in -such a case and so dangerous a time may -be imagined.” Gervase Pierrepoint conveyed -Campion into Nottinghamshire to -spend Christmas at Thoresby, his home; -thence into Derbyshire, where one of the -young Tempests succeeded as guide; and -the gentleman who directed the Yorkshire -part of the journey reached in safety the -house of his own brother-in-law, Mr. -William Harrington of Mount St. John, -near Thirsk, where the Father was received -with open arms. Here he settled down for -less than a fortnight at his desk, among his -note-books, at peace. But to have him in -the house at all was to risk the contagion of -the things of God. The eldest of the large -family, a wild boy, his father’s namesake, -was quick to feel the spell of this most -attractive guest. “Not only his eloquence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -and fire,” says Fr. Henry More of Campion, -“but a certain hidden infused power, -made his words strike home.” Some of -these simple words of every day “struck -home” to the young William Harrington, -so that fourteen years afterwards he found -the palm-branch of martyrdom growing -green and fair for him on the public execution -ground. At this very time of Campion’s -visit, the Lent of 1581, there was -another lad of fourteen or fifteen, John -Pibush, running about the streets of Thirsk, -his native village, who may have gone to -Confession to the strange priest at the -Manor, and wondered at him, unknowing -that he, too, was sealed as a future holocaust -in the same immortal cause.</p> - -<p>From Mount St. John, where he must -have tasted much natural happiness, Campion -travelled into Lancashire, under the -protection of a former pupil and his wife. -There he was affectionately welcomed and -cared for in each of eight great houses, -where himself and his spiritual conferences -were still a glowing tradition, sixty or -seventy years afterwards. He had to live,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -think, write, in a crowd. The local gentry -drove from great distances and slept in -barns, only to hear and see him once. At -Blainscough Hall, the seat of the Worthingtons, -the pursuivants would have discovered -him, where he was walking in the -open air, had it not been for the cleverness -and splendid presence of mind of a faithful -maidservant, standing hard by. She ran -up against him, in a pretended fit of temper, -and shoved him into a shallow pond! The -pursuivants, sent out by the terrible Huntingdon, -President of the North, to apprehend -a distinguished cleric and scholar, -naturally never gave that mud-covered -yokel a second glance.</p> - -<p>Fr. Campion would have learned by now -the fate of most of the enthusiastic band who -had travelled in his company, from Rome or -Rheims to England, during the preceding -summer: five priests, including the lovable -gay-hearted Sherwin, were languishing in -cells and on the rack; Fr. Parsons, though -hunted, was free. Following a suggestion -of Campion’s, he set up a private printing -press, in order that the <i>Ten Reasons</i> and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -other Catholic works of defensive controversy -might be issued as they were needed. -Publishing, like every other major industry -open to the Catholics, was outlawed; devotional -and doctrinal books had to be -brought out in this hole-and-corner fashion, -if at all. Another of those lay associates -of the mission, whose devotion and usefulness -had been proved at every point, -came forward to bear the brunt of the new -enterprise. The young Stephen Brinkley, -Bachelor of Civil Law, called by Parsons -“a gentleman of high attainments both in -literature and in virtue,” volunteered to become -manager and head compositor, and -amid many dramatic and exciting interruptions, -carried his task through. Machinery, -types, paper, and the rest were bought with -money supplied by the ever-helpful George -Gilbert. Brinkley himself, to avert suspicion, -had to buy horses for his workmen, -and attire them like persons of quality -whenever they went abroad. He quite -knew what he was risking. After him, -still another knight of letters in a far less -perilous field, offered himself in the person<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -of Thomas Fitzherbert of Swynnerton, then -newly married (long afterwards a priest, -and Rector of the English College in -Rome). His not undelightful duty was to -verify the mass of references and authorities -quoted in the margins of Campion’s manuscript: -this he did in a scholarly way, satisfactory -to the scholarly author, who believed -in research, and liked nothing at -second-hand. Lastly, Parsons, as Campion’s -Superior, recalled him to London in -April or May to see the little volume -through the press, and cautioned him to -put up only at inns on the way, where -happily he might pass as “the gentleman -in the parlour.”</p> - -<p>Thirty miles or so north of the great -city, Campion had one of his ever-recurring -narrow escapes. A spy, hungry for reward, -had dogged his steps on his way from -York. At a certain town not named, a -little boy who knew Campion by sight -overheard this man describing the Father -to a magistrate, and calling him “Jesuit,” -a word the child had never heard. He ran -straight to the tavern where the “Jesuit”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -had put up and succeeded in finding him -and warning him! so the bird was safely -on the wing before the fowlers were in -sight.</p> - -<p>Campion came to Westminster and -Whitefriars, and set to work, diligently as -ever. With Father Robert he had frequent -occasion to visit the Bellamys of Uxenden -Hall near Harrow, a family under whose -roof his old friend Richard Bristow had -died in the preceding autumn. Their later -adversities and annihilation were only too -typical of Catholic domestic history under -Elizabeth. Going to Harrow meant going -up the Edgware Road, and in the mouth -of that road, between waste lands (facing -the spot across the street where the Marble -Arch now stands), was the famous Tyburn -gallows. This particular one had been put -up new for Dr. Storey’s execution, ten -years before: it had three posts set in a -triangle, with connecting cross-bars at the -top. Once every week, without intermission, -batches of criminals perished there. -Even now, and with far greater frequency -afterwards, holy and innocent men and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -women made up a large proportion of the -“criminals”; and remembering these dear -souls, and conscious that there he was to -follow them in confession of the King of -Martyrs, Campion would always solemnly -take off his hat and pause, in passing, to -salute Tyburn Tree.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, in the quiet and seclusion of -Dame Cecily Stonor’s park, near Henley, -and in the attics which she bravely set -apart for the purpose, the <i>Decem Rationes</i> -got itself safely printed by Stephen Brinkley -and his seven honest men. Campion, -with fine bravado, dated it from “Cosmopolis”; -and the distribution of it was as -audacious as the dating. The first copies -bound, about four hundred in number, were -hurriedly stabbed, instead of stitched, in -time to go up for the Oxford commemoration, -June 27th of that year. The church of -St. Mary-the-Virgin was then used for all -the “Acts,” for the accommodation of -which, a century later, the Sheldonian -Theatre was built. When the company -entered St. Mary’s, the benches were found -littered with the “seditious” books. Their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -dedication was “to the studious Collegians -flourishing at Oxford and Cambridge,” and -the youths in question were just in the -humour to read them; and read them they -did, then and there, instead of attending to -the important annual function going on! -This rudeness bred protest, and protest -bred a lively scene. To understand it we -must recall that the undergraduate element -was then, by comparison, the conservative -element. Heads of Houses, Fellows and -Tutors, learned and popular men, had been -removed wholesale by the Elizabethan -settlement of religion in favour of new men -concisely described as “extremists from -Geneva, intellectually inferior to those who -had been displaced, and representing a -different spirit, and different traditions.” -The student body looked on them with -scorn. Again, to quote another chief -authority on this subject, “the young -Oxonians did not bear easily the Elizabethan -drill, and felt that if their liberty -must be crushed they would fain have it -crushed by something more venerable than -the mushroom authority of the Ministers of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -the Queen. They were as tinder, and Campion’s -book was just the sort of spark to set -them in a blaze.” The excited Government -told off relays of clergymen to courtmartial -and shoot it. Aylmer, Bishop of -London, wished to commission nine Deans, -seven Archdeacons, and the two Regius -Professors of Divinity to punish the tiny -offender; but the actual ammunition brought -into the field was not quite so imposing as -all this. The answers were duly published, -dealing in the most unmeasured personal -abuse of Campion. No attempt was made -in any instance to rival either his religious -fervour or his literary grace. His last -labour with his pen made, in short, a very -great and an extremely prolonged stir. -Its fate was a romantic one from start to -finish, for it was so quickly and thoroughly -confiscated that not more than a couple of -copies are now known to exist. Despite the -outcry, or because of it, edition after edition -was called for. There have been nearly -thirty reprints in the original Latin, and -many translations into modern languages, -inclusive of three beautiful translations into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -the good English common in 1606, 1632, -and 1687, one of which should be re-issued. -The <i>Ten Reasons</i>, written under such immense -difficulties, had all of Campion’s -zeal and pith, and was “a model of eloquence, -elegance, and good taste.” Marc -Antony Muret, the greatest Latinist of the -time, called it <i>libellum aureum</i>, “a golden -little book, writ by the very finger of God.” -Campion had gone, in his ardent, sensitive, -rhetorical, compendious way, over the whole -ground of the credentials of that Church -which had had the allegiance of England for -more than a thousand years: Scripture, the -Fathers, the Councils, the evidence of -human history, are all drawn upon, in the -best spirit of the new learning. The -characteristic note of personal appeal to the -Queen is not lacking here at the end. -Campion’s theme is the Church, and he -quotes from the Prophet Isaiah: “Kings -shall be thy nursing fathers, and Queens thy -nursing mothers;” and he names as among -the great monarchs whose joy it was to -further the Church in their day, St. Edward -the Confessor, St. Louis of France,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -St. Henry of Saxony, St. Wenceslaus of -Bohemia, St. Stephen of Hungary, and the -rest. Then he cries out to “Elizabeth, -most mighty Queen,” to listen. “For this -Prophet is speaking unto thee, is teaching -thee thy duty. I tell thee one Heaven cannot -gather in Calvin and these thine ancestors. -Join thyself therefore to them, -else shalt thou stand unworthy of that name -of thine, thy genius, thy learning, thy -fame before all men, and thy fortunes. To -this end do I conspire, and will conspire, -against thee, whatever betideth me, who am -so often menaced with the gallows as a conspirator -hostile to thy life. (‘All hail, thou -good Cross!’) The day shall come, O -Elizabeth! the day that shall make it altogether -clear which of the two did love thee -best: the Company of Jesus, or the brood -of Luther!”</p> - -<p>Hardly was the last of the original imprints -bound and distributed, when the pursuivants -in search of what was roughly, but -significantly enough, called “Massing-stuff,” -pounced upon Stonor Park, and -caught red-handed there, and carried off,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -the two gentlemen, John Stonor and -Stephen Brinkley, and four of the printers, -one of whom, a poor frightened fellow, -conformed, and was let off at once. -William Hartley, ordained the year before, -who had in person strewn the <i>Ten Reasons</i> -over the benches of the University Church, -and made special gifts of copies in various -Colleges, was arrested a little later. His -fate was not exceptional, like that of his -comrades just mentioned, who were eventually -released on bail. He suffered at -Tyburn; and his mother, heroic as the -mother of the Macchabees, stood by his -young body in its butchering, and thanked -God aloud for her privilege in so giving -back to Him such a son.</p> - -<p>Campion spent St. John’s Day (marking -the first anniversary of his return to England) -at Lady Babington’s, at Twyford in -Buckinghamshire, a house not many miles -from Stonor, on the other bank of the -Thames. He stayed a little while at Bledlow -also, and at Wynge, with the Dormers, -his whole heart bent, every moment of the -time, upon his Father’s business. But his -free days were almost done.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> - -<p>The outcry redoubled, now that he had -again succeeded in catching public attention. -Fresh and monstrously cruel measures -were therefore taken against all Papists. -“Naught is lacking,” wrote to Acquaviva -the tender soul who too well knew himself -to be the cause of many sorrows, “but that -to our books written with ink should succeed -others daily published, and written in -blood.” Fr. Parsons prudently ordered -him back to the North. The two heard -each other’s confessions and renewal of -vows at Stonor, and said good-bye, exchanging -hats as a parting gift, after the -friendly fashion of their time. Campion -was to ride straightway into Lancashire to -get his manuscript and notes, left behind, -his former companion Ralph Emerson going -with him; and he was then to betake -himself to the fresh mission field in Norfolk. -As it fell out, he soon spurred back -after Parsons to tell him of a letter that -moment received. It was from a gentleman -named Yate, then a prisoner for his -religion, earnestly begging Campion to -visit Lyford Grange in Berkshire, the -gentleman’s own estate, hard by, where his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -wife and mother still were, together with -Edward Yate, and part of a proscribed community -of English Brigittine nuns, driven -back into England by troubles in the Low -Countries. Fr. Parsons, knowing the house -to be a conspicuous one, and already supplied -with chaplains, was unwilling to -grant the permission. But eventually he -gave in, warning the two others not to -tarry beyond one night or one day, and as -a precaution, putting Campion under the -lay brother’s care and obedience. Parsons -parted from him not without a rueful and -affectionate word. “You are too easy-going -by far,” he said to his friend and -fellow-soldier, purposely giving its least -heroic name to that intentionally prodigal -zeal for souls. “I know you, Father Edmund; -if they once get you there, you will -never break away!”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 397px;"> -<img src="images/i-143.jpg" width="397" height="600" alt="Two men in pantaloons" /> -<div class="caption">“We have not broken through here!”</div><div class="attrib">[<a href="#Page_134"><small>P.</small> 134</a></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>XI<br /> - -<small>AT LYFORD GRANGE, AND AFTER: 1581</small></h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">ON the morning of July 12, Father -Edmund and Brother Ralph, faithful -to agreement, were in their -saddles again, leaving the pious household -refreshed, but lamenting. Of the two priests -who formed part of it, one, Fr. Collington, -or Colleton, escorted them some distance on -their way. Campion had already been waylaid, -at an inn near Oxford, by many friendly -tutors and undergraduates, when up galloped -the other chaplain of Lyford, Fr. -Forde. He was a Trinity College man, who -had entered Douay just after Campion’s -arrival there, and was to follow him closely -to martyrdom. Forde brought news that a -large party of Catholics had come over to -Lyford to visit the nuns, and, distressed at -missing Fr. Campion, were clamouring for -his return. The Oxford group had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -begging their old champion to preach to -them, which he would not do in so public a -place; they now added their entreaties to those -of the deputy of the strangers, and offered to -join these at Lyford. Surely, he who had -given a whole day to a few godly nuns, who -needed him but little, could not refuse a -Saturday and Sunday to so many soiled -souls of every stripe and colour, “thirsting -for the waters of life”? The suit was insistent; -Campion was inclined to give in, -but referred his admirers to Brother Emerson, -as his provisional Superior. He, in -turn, was overborne. It seemed much safer, -after all, for the precious Father to be -among friends, while he, Ralph, went on -alone to fetch the books from Mr. Richard -Houghton’s in Lancashire. So back to -Lyford Campion went, to the poor little -lay brother’s everlasting regret.</p> - -<p>On the following Sunday morning, the -ninth after Pentecost, Campion preached at -the Grange on the gospel of the day, the -peculiarly touching gospel of Jesus weeping -over Jerusalem, the changed and faithless -city which stoned the prophets, and knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -not, in her day, the things that were to her -peace. No one present ever forgot that -heart-shaking sermon, laden as it was with -pathos and presentiment. There was an -audience of sixty, including the Oxonians. -Unfortunately it included also George -Eliot, a man of the most evil personal repute, -an apostate and a Government spy, -armed with plenary powers. He was then -under a charge of murder, and was anxious -to whitewash himself in the eyes of the -Council by some conspicuous public service. -He had once been a servant of the Ropers at -Canterbury; and Mrs. Yate’s honest cook, -who had known Eliot there in his decent -days, let him in without question, whispering -what a treat was in store for him in the -preaching of none other than Father Campion! -Though the warrant for the apprehension -of the Jesuit was in Eliot’s pocket, -he little thought to capture him so easily -and so soon. A pursuivant had accompanied -him to the gate; Eliot went back to -this person, nominally to dismiss him, as a -heretic, really to speed him to a magistrate -at Abingdon for a force of an hundred men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -to arrest Campion in the Queen’s name. -Then he went piously up-stairs to Mass, -Edmund Campion’s last Mass, so far as we -know. That, and the sermon, passed by in -peace, and Eliot himself left. Immediately -after dinner an alarm was given by a -watchman posted in a turret, who saw the -enemy far off. Campion sprang up, and -started to leave at once, and alone, saying -that his chances of escape might be fair, and -that his remaining would only involve the -household in discomfort and danger. But -they all clung to him, assuring him that -Lyford was full of cunning secret passages -and hiding-holes; and into one of these, in -the wall above the gateway, he was forthwith -hurried by Forde and Collington, who -laid themselves down by his side, and -crossed their hands over their breasts.</p> - -<p>Back came Eliot with the magistrate, a -civil squire, and the neighbourly Berkshire -yeomen who loathed the work. He made -them turn the whole house topsy-turvy, nor -desist till evenfall; then, finding nothing, -they withdrew. However, they returned -almost in the same breath, egged on by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -Eliot, who now would have the walls -sounded. The Abingdon magistrate apologized -to Mrs. Yate, not for the Queen’s -warrant, but for his associate, “the mad-man,” -as he called him, who was carrying -it out. The lady was an invalid; thinking -not altogether of herself, she railed and -wept. The magistrate kindly soothed her -fears, and allowed her to sleep where she -pleased, undisturbed by his men and their -din. She chose to have a bed made up -close to the hiding-place. She was conducted -thither with the honours of war, -and a sentinel was posted at the room door. -The tapping and smashing went merrily on -elsewhere until late at night, when, by her -orders, the sheriff’s baffled underlings made -a fine supper, and being worn out, fell asleep -over their cups, even as they were expected -to do. Poor Mrs. Yate was either by nature -the silliest of women, or else her nerves were -upset by illness and trying circumstance, -for she sent for Fr. Campion, as well as for -all her other guests who were in that part of -the house, and requested him, as he stood -by her bedside—of all possible things—to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -preach to them just once more! One could -not in courtesy refuse a hostess, however -unreasonable, who was risking so much for -him; nor would it have been like him to -refuse. Allen tells us that it was his invariable -habit to preach “once a day at the -least, often twice, and sometimes thrice, -whereby through God’s goodness he converted -sundry in most shires of this realm -of most wisdom and worship, besides young -gentlemen students, and others of all sorts.”</p> - -<p>Fr. Campion discharged his task. As the -little congregation broke up, some one -stumbled in the dark, and several fell; the -snoring sentinel awoke; searchers, with -lanterns and axes, swarmed up from below. -There was nothing to be seen: Lyford was -not honeycombed in vain with hidden passages. -The men-at-arms had been fooled too -often, and were angry with Eliot. Yet that -functionary knew that something was still -really afoot, that the alarm was not a false one. -On going down the stairs again he struck his -hand upon the wall over it. “We have not -broken through here!” he said. A loyal -servant of the Yates, who was at his side,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -and who knew it was just there the refugees -lay, muttered that enough wall had been -ruined already, and then went deadly pale -while Eliot’s eye was still on him. The -latter called, in triumph, for a smith’s -hammer, and banged it into the thin timber -partition, and into the narrow cell. And -thus was Father Edmund Campion taken at -Lyford Grange, at dawn of Monday, July -17th, in the year 1581.</p> - -<p>He was quite calm, quite cheerful. With -him were apprehended the two priests, seven -gentlemen, and two yeomen. Forster, the -Sheriff of Berkshire, hitherto absent, -arrived. As he was an Oxonian, and almost -a Catholic, and kindly disposed towards -Campion, he waited to hear from the -Council what was to be done. On the fourth -day orders came to send the chief prisoners -up to London, under a strong guard. Leaving -the old moated house and its many occupants, -now distracted with grief, Campion -took horse at the door, and rode slowly off, -Eliot prancing in triumph at the head of -the company, though the common people -saluted him as “Judas,” all along the way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -The first halt was at Abingdon; sympathetic -Oxford scholars had come down to see the -last of the great light of the University -under such black eclipse. Eliot accosted his -victim at table: “Mr. Campion, I know -well you are wroth with me for this work!” -He drew out a beautiful answer, sincere, -composed, half-playful: a saint’s answer. -“Nay, I forgive thee; and in token thereof, -I drink to thee. Yea, and if thou wilt repent, -and come to Confession, I will absolve thee: -but large penance thou must have!” At -Henley, Campion saw in the crowd Fr. -Parsons’ servant, and greeted him as he -could, without betraying him: Fr. Parsons -was near at hand, but was wisely kept indoors. -A young priest, “Mr. Filby the -younger,” as he was called, a native of -Oxford, is said to have here attempted to -speak to Campion; he was at once seized -upon as a traitorous “comforter of Jesuits,” -and added to the cavalcade. At Colebrook, -less than a dozen miles from London, -came fresh instructions from the Council. -Sheriff Forster had treated his prisoners -most honourably: they were now to be made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -a public show. Their elbows were tied from -behind, their wrists roped together in front, -and their feet fastened under the horses; -their leader was decorated with a paper -pinned to his hat—Fr. Parsons’ hat of late—on -which in large lettering was inscribed: -“Campion, the Seditious Jesuit.” And in -this guise he was paraded through the chief -streets of the great city on market-day. The -mob roared with delight; “but the wiser -sort,” says Holinshed, “lamented to see the -land fallen to such barbarism as to abuse in -this manner a gentleman famous throughout -Europe for his scholarship and his -innocency of life, and this before any trial, -or any proof against him, his case being -prejudged, and he punished as if already -condemned.” Stephen Brinkley somehow -obtained, as a souvenir of a fellow-prisoner, -that thick dark felt hat, which had been -so ignominiously labelled in the cause of -Christ. Years afterwards, when in Belgium, -he put it into a reliquary, “out of love and -veneration towards that most holy martyr of -God, his father and patron.” A piece of it -is at Roehampton, in the Jesuit Noviciate.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> - -<p>On reaching the Tower the Lyford captives -were given up to the Governor, Sir -Owen Hopton. Taking his cue, he had -Campion thrust at once into Little Ease, the -famous Tower hole not high enough for a -man to stand upright in, nor long enough -for him to lie down in. After four days of -this misery he was suddenly taken out, put -in a boat at the Traitors’ Gate steps, and -rowed to the town house of the Earl of Leicester. -This nobleman and Edmund Campion, -who had seen so much of each other for -several years, had been placed by events in -silent conflict. There stood the Earl of Bedford, -with two Secretaries of State; there -stood Campion’s host, who, for one reason or -another, had never hounded Catholics with -the fixed fury of Walsingham and Burghley, -and thereby did not displease his irresolute -royal mistress; there (a theatrical circumstance!) -was that royal mistress herself, a -gleaming stately vision in a great chair, -head and front of a not unfriendly little inquisition. -To the questions heaped upon -him Campion gave frank answers. On the -matter of “allegiance” he seemed to satisfy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -the company, who told him there was no -fault in him save that he was a Papist. -“That,” he modestly interrupted, “is my -greatest glory.” The Queen smiled upon -him, and offered him liberty and honours, -but under conditions which his conscience -forbade him to accept.</p> - -<p>When he was courteously dismissed, -Leicester, probably with a kind motive, sent -a message to Hopton to keep up the flatteries -of the new policy. Hopton put on an almost -affectionate consideration for his important -prisoner; and so fast as he was prompted, -by artful degrees, he suggested to him a -pension, a high place at Court, and even the -promise eventually of the mitre and revenues -of the primatial See of Canterbury! Well -did the Council know, all along, the value -of these stubborn and unpurchasable confessors -of Christ. To cap the matter, in -Campion’s case, it was publicly announced, -both by Hopton and by Walsingham (who -knew the untruth of their announcement), -that the Jesuit was at the point of recantation -and Protestant orthodoxy, and in full -sight of the future Archbishopric, “to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -great content of the Queen.” It flew all over -London that he would presently preach at -Paul’s Cross, and there burn the <i>Decem -Rationes</i> with his own hand. Eventually -Hopton returned to first principles indoors, -and inquired point-blank of Campion -whether he would give up his religion, and -conform. The reply is easily imagined. A -continued course of wheedling was wasteful -business. So thought the Council; and three -days after his strange and sudden sight of -the Queen’s Grace at Leicester House, -Edmund Campion, first kneeling down at -the door and invoking the Holy Name for -steadying of his manhood, was stripped and -fastened to the rollers of the Tower rack. -Blandishments had failed to move him; they -would try mortal pain, and see what that -could do. Torture, nevertheless, was as -much against the laws of England then -(though not against the laws of some less -humane countries), as it is now.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>XII<br /> - -<small>THE THICK OF THE FRAY: 1581</small></h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">CAMPION, in between the working -of the rollers, was asked his opinion -of certain political utterances in the -works of his old friends Allen and Bristow, -and of Dr. Sander; also whether he considered -the Queen “true and lawful,” or -“pretensed and deprived.” He refused to -answer. Physical anguish could be little -worse than the ineffable boredom of these -two never-quiet questions. He was then -asked by the Governor, the Rackmaster, -and others present, by whose command and -counsel he had returned to England; by -whom in England he had been received and -befriended; in whose houses he had said -Mass, heard Confessions, and reconciled -persons to his Church; where his recent -book was printed, and to whom copies were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -given; lastly, what was his opinion of the -Bull of Pius V against Queen Elizabeth? -A letter written at the time to Lord Shrewsbury -by Lord Burghley, and still extant, -shows that nothing of moment could be got -out of Campion. During the next fortnight, -however, there was poured into the -ear of the Government information regarding -the second and third items in the above -category. Houses were searched; persons -of mark were apprehended, tried in the Star -Chamber, and sentenced. Almost every -manse or town house where Campion had -been harboured became known, and even -the names of those Oxford Masters of Arts -who had followed him to Lyford. The -Government gave out that he had confessed -upon the rack, and implicated his -too trusting friends. The alleged facts -naturally became a general scandal, and -bred grief and horror among the Catholics -who, no less than Protestants, were thus -driven to believe them. The secrets were -probably given up, under panic, by three -serving-men, and by poor Gervase Pierrepoint. -It was a common trick of the time,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -though not peculiar to it, to show a prisoner -a lying list of names purporting to have -been extracted from colleagues, so that he -himself might be trapped into endorsing -the suspicions held in regard to those -names. But it is clear that Campion was -brought to mention only a few who, as he -was aware, were formerly known to his -examiners as Catholic Recusants; and only -after a solemn oath from the Commissioners -that no harm could accrue to them in -consequence of such supplementary mention. -Even this he had every cause to -regret. The gentlemen and gentlewomen -on Lord Burghley’s lists were carefully informed, -when arrested, that it was Campion -who had betrayed them: a cruel slander -which he could refute only at the foot of the -scaffold. Thanks to the reports, first of his -backsliding, then of his treachery, his great -reputation, for the time being, was clean -gone. Having thus been given forth to the -public as a knave, he was now to be set -before them as a fool, and shown to be one -who possessed neither sort of superiority, -moral or mental.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 372px;"> -<img src="images/i-161.jpg" width="372" height="600" alt="queen on throne,Edmund before" /> -<div class="caption">Campion before Queen Elizabeth.</div><div class="attrib"><i><a href="#Page_138">p. 138.</a></i></div> -</div> - -<p>Many courtiers, having a purely artistic -interest in Edmund Campion, had begged -that he might obtain the chance he had -often asked for, of being heard in a disputation. -This request was now suddenly -granted. The conference was public, and -came off in the Norman Chapel of the -Tower, which was crowded. Two Deans, -Nowell of St. Paul’s, and Day of Windsor, -were appointed to attack Campion; he was -to answer all objections as he could, but -was forbidden to raise any of his own. -Charke, the bitter Puritan preacher of -Gray’s Inn, and Whitaker, the Regius Professor -of Divinity in Cambridge, were the -notaries. The lion to be baited did not -even know that there was to be a conference, -until he was brought to it under a strong -guard. Time for preparation had been -denied him; he was allowed the use of only -such authorities as his memory could furnish; -pale and weary and rack-worn as he -was, he was given only a low stool to sit -upon. The well-fed theological worthies -were ranged before him, their chairs standing -on raised platforms, and their tables<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -spread with books of reference, pens and -paper.</p> - -<p>One who was there tells us how easy and -ready were his answers; how modest his -mien; how that high-spirited nature so bore -the scorn, the abuse, and the jests heaped -upon him, as to win great admiration from -the majority of those who heard him for -the first time. He began by asking very -pertinently whether this was a just answer -to his challenge, first to rack him, then to -deprive him of books, notes and pen, lastly, -to call upon him to debate? and he added -(wishing to be fully understood by the audience), -that what he had asked for was quite -another sort of hearing: a hearing under -equal conditions before the Universities. -During the course of this first conference he -was twice most unfairly tripped up: once -over a quotation, in which he was right, -though he could not then and there prove -it; and again over a page of the Greek -Testament, in such small type that he -could not read it, and had to put it by when -it was handed to him: thereby drawing -down upon himself the ridiculous taunt that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -he knew no Greek. This he took silently, -and with a smile. At the end of the six -hours he had more than stood his ground. -The Deans complained afterwards that a -number of gentlemen present, “neither unlearned -nor ill-affected,” considered that -Master Campion had the best of it. Some -common people who thought so too, and -said so in the streets, paid dearly for their -boldness. One of these gentlemen favourably -impressed was Philip, Earl of Arundel, -then in the flush of worldly pride and -pleasure. He was the real victory of the -Jesuit apostle, for he received at that time -and in that place the first ray of divine -grace, strong enough to change gradually -in him the whole motive and course of that -intensity of life which never failed the -Howards. As he stood leaning forward in -the foreground of the daïs, in that solemn -interior, tall and young, with his great -ruff and embroidered doublet, and his -brilliant dark eyes held by the pathetic -figure of Master Campion, how little could -he have foreseen his own weary term of -suffering in that gloomy fortress, and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -sainted death there, at the end of the -years!</p> - -<p>There were three other conferences under -like conditions, but in other quarters, with -four fresh adversaries. Campion was again -“appointed only to answer, never to oppose”; -that is, to answer miscellaneous and -disjointed objections against the Catholic -Church, without ever being allowed “to -build up any harmonious apology for his -own system.” The last conference was -notable for its browbeating and threatening -of a too successful adversary. The -Bishop of London privately came to the -conclusion that the verbal tournament was -doing no good whatever to the sacred cause -of Protestantism. The Council agreed, -and ended it.</p> - -<p>Towards the end of October Campion -was racked for the third time, and with the -utmost severity, so that he thought they -meant, this time, to kill him; but his fortitude -was unshaken. A rough and honest -first cousin to the Queen, Henry Carey, -Lord Hunsdon, growled that it were easier -to pluck the heart out of Campion’s breast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -than to wrest from him one word against -his conscience. His arms and legs went -quite numb after this final torture. The -keeper, who was won over by his endearing -prisoner, and was always as gentle with -him as he dared to be, inquired next day -how they felt. “Not ill,” said Father -Edmund, with all of his old brave brightness, -“not ill, because not at all!”</p> - -<p>Never once until now had he been accused -of any conspiracy. But he was a troublesome -person: he must be silenced somehow. -With a tardy inspiration, the -Council bent all their strength to get out -of Campion some acknowledgment that he -had been mixed up with the Spanish-Roman -expedition, and the Irish rising of -the preceding year. Not a shadow of proof -could, of course, be produced for such a -charge. Then, as a final and sure means of -indicting him on some other count than -that of religion, and of urging his execution -upon the Queen, Walsingham, with -Burghley’s connivance, hatched a treasonable -plot out of his own inventive head, -and got false witnesses to accuse Edmund<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -Campion of it, and swear his life away. -The “Plot of Rheims and Rome” was -described as an attempt to raise a sedition, -and dethrone and kill the Queen. It had -an imaginary but recent date: 1580. -Everybody or anybody, when found convenient, -could be accused of so elastic a -plot. It was first charged against some -twenty priests and laymen in this year -1581; but it was brought up against the -Earl of Arundel four years afterwards, -despite the fact that the supposed interests -of the Church were the last things likely to -win his attention at the time assigned.</p> - -<p>On All Saints’ Day arrived in England -a suitor for the hand of Queen Elizabeth: -Francis, Duke of Alençon, King of the -Netherlands, the short-lived heir to the -throne of King Henry the Third of France. -With that King, while Duke of Anjou, and -with Alençon for nine years past (as for -three yet to come), Elizabeth had carried -on negotiations which ended in smoke; but -she now announced that she “would marry -at last.” Little Froggy, as she endearingly -called him, was ugly to a degree, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -many years younger than her Majesty; -he was brother-in-law to the Queen of -Scots, who was her Majesty’s prisoner at -Sheffield. The dominant, ultra-bigoted party -took extreme alarm at the near prospect of -toleration for Catholics which such a royal -match suggested to them. To reassure -them, it might just now be most useful, -thought the Council, to hang a Jesuit or two.</p> - -<p>On the 14th of the month Campion and -eight others were arraigned before the -grand jury in Westminster Hall. For -“treasonable intents” of the Queen’s deprivation -and murder, these “secret and -privy practices of sinister devices,” befitting -one “led astray by the devil,” had -“Edmund Campion, clerk,” made his re-entry -into England, the Pope, meanwhile, -being not only aware of his act, but its -“author and onsetter”! He was commanded, -as were all those lumped with -him in a common accusation, to plead -Guilty or Not Guilty. Up went all the -right arms of these “devotaries, and dead -men to this world, who travelled only for -souls,” as Campion himself called them: -all but his, so disabled by the rack that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -could not stir it from the furred cuff in -which it lay. But a quick-witted comrade -turned and took off the cuff, “humbly kissing -the sacred hands so wrung for the confession -of Christ,” and lifted it high to cry -its own mute Not Guilty with the rest. The -Spanish Ambassador, Don Bernardino de -Mendoza, standing close by with his secretary, -saw, with a pang of pity, that all the -finger-nails were gone from Campion’s -swollen hands. The trial proper began on -the 20th, before “such a presence of people -of the more honourable, wise, learned, and -best sort as was never seen or heard of in -that court in ours or our fathers’ memories -before us . . . so wonderful an expectation -there was to see the end of this marvellous -tragedy . . . [of] such as they knew in -conscience to be innocent.” They all heard -Ralph Sherwin say, in a loud clear voice: -“The plain ground of our standing here is -religion, and not treason.”</p> - -<p>Chief Justice Wray presided, a Catholic -at heart, and wretched ever after over this -unwilling day’s work. The prosecuting -officers for the Crown were the Queen’s -serjeant, Edmund Anderson; Popham,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -afterwards Chief Justice; and Egerton, -afterwards the first Lord Ellesmere. The -chief witnesses were George Eliot, Anthony -Munday, and two creatures named Sledd -and Caddy: probably as evil a quartette as -existed in contemporary England, and -worthy forerunners of Oates and Bedloe. -“They had nothing left to swear by,” as -Campion reminded the jury: “neither religion -nor honesty.” In no special order, -but with much ardour and diligence, all -the old tiresome trivial accusations were -brought forward and pressed in, Campion -being spokesman throughout for the defence, -and his alert mind, despite his weakened -body, meeting them all, and routing -them. He was charged with having “seduced -the Queen’s subjects from their -allegiance” . . . and “reconciled them to -the Pope.” He caught up the word. “We -‘reconcile’ them to the Pope! Nay, then, -what reconciliation can there be to him, -since reconciliation is only due to God? -This word [‘reconcile’] soundeth not to a -lawyer’s usage, and therefore is wrested -against us inaptly. The reconciliation that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -we endeavoured was only to God: as Peter -saith, <i>reconciliamini Domino</i>, be ye reconciled -unto the Lord.” Campion was informed: -“Yourself came as Procurator -from the Pope and Dr. Allen, to break these -matters to the English Papists.” So he -rejoined that in his homeward voyage from -Rome, undertaken by his vow of obedience -as a Jesuit, “the which accordingly I enterprised, -being commanded thereto,” he had -“dined with Dr. Allen at Rheims, with -whom also after dinner I walked in his -garden . . . and not one jot of our talk -glanced to the Crown or State of England. . . . -As to the [Pope], he flatly with charge -and commandment excused me from matters -of State and regiment.” . . . Followed -a change of tactics. “Afterclaps make -those excuses but shadows. . . . For what -meaning had that changing of your name? -Whereto belonged your disguising in apparel? -What pleasure had you to royst it -[in] a velvet hat and a feather, a buff leather -jerkin, and velvet venetians? . . . Can that -beseem a professed man of religion which -hardly becometh a layman of gravity? No:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -there was a further matter intended. . . . -Had you come hither for love of your -country, you would never have wrought a -hugger-mugger; had your intent been to -have done well, you would never have -hated the light.” To which Campion replied -that St. Paul, in order “that living -he might benefit the Church more than -dying,” betook himself “to sundry shifts -. . . but that especially the changing of his -name was very oft and familiar” . . . and -that “he sometimes thought it expedient -to be hidden, lest, being discovered, persecution -should ensue thereby, and the gospel -be greatly forestalled. . . . If these shifts -were then approved in Paul, why are they -now reproved in me?—he an Apostle, I a -Jesuit . . . the same cause common to us -both. . . . I wished earnestly the planting of -the gospel; I knew a contrary religion professed; -I saw if I were known I should be -apprehended. I changed my name, I kept -secretly: I imitated Paul. Was I therein -a traitor? . . . The wearing of a buff jerkin, -a velvet hat, and suchlike, is much forced -against me. . . . I am not indicted upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -Statute of Apparel! . . . Indeed, I acknowledge -an offence to Godwards for so doing, -and thereof it doth grievously repent me, -and [I] therefore do now penance, as you -see me.” This charming rejoinder (again, -how More-like!) was in allusion to his -rough gown of Irish frieze, and a huge -black nightcap covering half of his newly -shaven face.</p> - -<p>After all this mere hectoring, some pieces -of “evidence” were produced. One of -these was an intercepted letter which Campion -himself had written from the Tower -after his first and comparatively moderate -racking, while it was still possible to use -his hands; it was addressed to the admirable -and truly holy, but fussy, Mr. Thomas -Pounde, who, wild with alarm at the pretended -“betrayals,” had written to remonstrate -with Fr. Campion. The Queen’s -Counsel now read this passage from Campion’s -humble reply: “It grieveth me -much to have offended the Catholic cause -so highly as to confess the names of some -gentlemen and friends in whose houses I -had been entertained. Yet in this I greatly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -cherish and comfort myself: that I never -discovered any secrets there declared; and -that I will not, come rack, come rope!” -The comment of the reader in court was an -obvious one. “What can sound more suspiciously -or nearer unto treason than this -letter? . . . It must needs be some grievous -matter and very pernicious, that neither -rack nor rope can wring from him!” But -Campion’s even more obvious answer was -that there he spoke as one “by profession -and calling a priest,” vowed to silence in -regard to what was made known in the -Confessional, and yet pressed, on the rack, -to divulge secrets thus communicated to -him. “These were the hidden matters . . . -in concealing of which I so greatly rejoiced, -to the revealing whereof I cannot nor will -not be brought, come rack, come rope!” -Well chosen was this answer of Campion’s. -It has been pointed out that -if he had stated here that he had told on -no one who was not already found out, -he would have loosed the informers and -man-hunters afresh on the whole Catholic -community, until his other friends, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -had not been found out, were run down. -Instead of that he drew off attention by -reminding the court that he could not -repeat what had been sacramentally confided -to him. Most of his hearers were either -Catholic or had been Catholic, and acquiesced. -He spoke truth, but he skipped -explanations: and such is, more often than -not, the highest wisdom in this complex -world.</p> - -<p>There were now read out certain papers -containing oaths to be administered to persons -ready to renounce their obedience to -her Majesty, and to be sworn of the Papal -allegiance alone. These were said to have -been found in houses where “Campion -had lurked, and for religion been entertained;” -hence they were of his composing. -He objected that the administering -of oaths was repugnant to him, and exceeded -his authority: “neither would I -commit an offence so thwart to my profession, -for all the substance and treasure in -the world.” He went on to say (assuming -for his purpose that the precious papers -were not forged, though they really were so),<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -that there was no proof of their connection -with himself, nor was it even pretended that -they were in his handwriting. Anderson -replied with singular perversity or dulness: -“You, a professed Papist, coming to a -house and then such reliques found after -your departure—how can it otherwise be -implied but that you did both bring them -and leave them there? So it is flat they -came there by means of a Papist: <i>ergo</i>, by -your means!” The logician in Campion -dashed to the fore. Could it be shown that -no other Papist ever visited that house but -himself? If not, they were urging a conclusion -before framing a minor! which is -imperfect, he added, and proves nothing. -Apparently Serjeant Anderson was sufficiently -enraged by now. His highly judicial -retort is on record. “If here, as you do in -Schools, you bring in your minor and conclusion, -you will prove yourself but a fool. -But minor or conclusion, I will bring it to -purpose anon!” Eliot then rose as witness, -and gave his account of the Sunday -sermon at Lyford: how Master Campion -spoke of enormities in England, and of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -day of change soon coming, welcome to the -shaken and dispersed Catholics, but dreadful -to the heretical masters of the land. -“What day should that be,” broke in the -Queen’s Counsel, “but that wherein the -Pope, the King of Spain, and the Duke of -Florence have appointed to invade this -realm?” Campion turned his eyes on Eliot. -“Oh, Judas, Judas! . . . As in all other -Christian commonwealths, so in England, -many vices and iniquities do abound . . . -whereupon, as in every pulpit every Protestant -doth, I pronounced a great day, not -wherein any temporal potentate should -minister, but wherein the terrible Judge -should reveal all men’s consciences and try -every man. . . . Any other day than this, -God He knows I meant not.” So much -for the astonishing “evidence” of this most -astonishing of all trials, one only, under -Pontius Pilate, excepted.</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i-179.jpg" width="600" height="371" alt="Charge read before crowd" /> -<div class="caption">“Not Guilty!”</div><div class="attrib"><i><a href="#Page_151">p. 151.</a></i></div> -</div> - -<p>The chief count against the defendant -was the old, old one of the Bull of Deposition, -and the denied authority of the Queen -in spirituals: that wretched family skeleton -trotted out once more! “You refused<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -to swear to the Supremacy, a notorious -token of an evil willer to the Crown.” -Campion, who was surely what Antony -Wood quaintly calls him, “a sweete Disposition, -and a well-polish’d Man,” -stated his position once more, lucidly, -and with perfect temper. He began by -referring to what passed at the Earl of -Leicester’s London house. “Not long -since it pleased her Majesty to demand of -me whether I did acknowledge her to be my -Queen or no. I answered that I did acknowledge -her Highness not only as my -Queen, but also as my most lawful governess. -And being further required by her -Majesty whether I thought the Pope might -lawfully excommunicate her or no, I answered: -‘I confess myself an insufficient -umpire between her Majesty and the Pope -for so high a controversy, whereof neither -the certainty is yet known, nor the best -divines in Christendom stand fully resolved! . . . -I acknowledge her Highness as my -governor and sovereign; I acknowledge -her Majesty both in fact and by right to be -Queen; I confess an obedience due to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -Crown as to my temporal head and primate.’ -This I said then; so I say now. If then I -failed in aught, I am now ready to supply -it. What would you more? I will willingly -pay to her Majesty what is hers; yet I must -pay to God what is His. Then as for excommunicating -her Majesty, it was exacted -of me (admitting that excommunication -were of effect, and that the Pope had sufficient -authority so to do), whether then I -thought myself discharged of my allegiance -or no? I said that this was a dangerous -question, and that they that demanded this -demanded my blood. Admitting (why admitting?) -I would admit his authority, and -then he should excommunicate her, I would -then do as God should give me grace: but -I never admitted any such matter, neither -ought I to be wrested with any such suppositions.” -To all this no rejoinder was -made. It was the identical position taken -up by many another harassed martyr. The -prosecution next turned to the remaining -prisoners, using the same weak, wrong, -skirmishing tactics,—Campion often putting -in a word to hearten one, to defend another,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -to guide a third. At a certain point he exclaimed: -“So great are the treasons that I -and the others have wrought, that the -gaoler who has us in charge told me at -night that would we but go to the Anglican -services they would pardon us straightway!” -Serrano, who reports this, adds: -“They answered things in general.” At -the close of the proceedings, their issue -being prearranged, Campion was allowed -to make a speech to the jurors. He eloquently -begged them to seek for certainties, -and to remember the character of the “evidence” -brought before them. Alas! he -was appealing to bought men, who dared -not be true.</p> - -<p>The pleadings had taken three hours; the -jury deliberated, or seemed to do so, for an -hour or more. Public opinion in the Hall, -as at the Tower conferences, was overwhelmingly -in favour of Campion. But “the poor -twelve,” as Allen calls them, came back, -fearful to be found “no friend of Cæsar,” -bringing in a verdict against the whole company -as “guilty of the said treasons and -conspiracies.” The Lord Chief Justice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -spoke: “Campion, and the rest, what can -you say why you should not die?” Then -Campion broke out into a brief appeal -to the future and the past, a lyric strain -such as was not often heard beneath -those ancient rafters, so sadly used to the -spectacle of noble hearts in jeopardy. “It -was not our death that ever we feared! -But we knew that we were not lords of our -own lives, and therefore for want of answer -would not be guilty of our own deaths. -The only thing that we have now to say is, -that if our religion do make 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 the -ancient priests, Bishops and Kings: all -that was once the glory of England, the -Island of Saints, and the most devoted child -of the See of 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 -with these old lights, not of England -only, but of the world, by their degenerate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -descendants, is both gladness and glory to -us! God lives. Posterity will live. Their -judgment is not so liable to corruption as -that of those who are now going to sentence -us to death.” After which the Lord Chief -Justice pronounced the formula in use for -all prisoners condemned to capital punishment. -“Ye must go to the place whence -ye came, there to remain until ye shall be -drawn through the open city of London -upon hurdles to the place of execution, and -there be hanged and let down alive . . . -and your entrails taken out and burnt in -your sight; then your heads to be cut off, -and your bodies to be divided in four parts, -to be disposed of at her Majesty’s pleasure. -And may God have mercy on your souls!” -Some of the company raised a storm of -protest, but Campion’s voice rose above -theirs, crying: “We praise Thee, O -God!” Sherwin seconded him with the -shouted anthem of Eastertide: “This is -the day that the Lord hath made: let us -rejoice and be glad therein!” Like expressions -of triumph were presently taken up, -to the amazement of bystanders. Then the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -doomed men were parted, and were all -taken away, Edmund Campion being put in -a barge on the Thames, and rowed back to -the Tower, where he was heavily shackled -with irons, and left alone.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>XIII<br /> - -<small>VICTORY: DECEMBER 1, 1581</small></h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">EVEN thus late, fresh proffers were -made to buy Campion over to the -State religion. Such a circumstance, -as he had claimed previously, is in itself a -plain disproof of any treason. Hopton, who -hated him, sent Campion’s own sister to him -with the repeated offer of a very rich benefice. -To the cell door came one day none -other than George Eliot, saying that he -would never have trapped Fr. Edmund, had -he thought that anything worse than imprisonment -could be in store. He also told -the man of God whom he had wronged past -reparation that he stood in danger from the -wrath of the Catholics, and feared their reprisals -for his late actions. Campion persuaded -him that they would never push -revenge so far as to seek his life, but added -that if Eliot were truly repentant he should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -have a letter of recommendation to a Catholic -Duke in Germany, who would employ -and protect him. Delahays, the keeper, in -the discharge of his office, had to stand -close to the prisoner during this interview, -and what he heard sank into his mind and -made him a convert. Outside the Tower, -there was a ferment of excitement over this -one of its inmates, and over the question -whether the indignation of all Europe -should be braved by carrying out his sentence. -The Earl of Desmond, the accessory, -and Dr. Sanders, the co-principal, of -the late revolt in western Ireland, were still -hiding in woods and caves, and weathering -the hardships which were to be dismally -ended for both during the coming spring. -Burghley concisely said, in the finest Elizabethan -spirit of punishing somebody—no -great matter whom—when any row was -made, that “Campion and Sanders were in -the same boat, and as they could not catch -Sanders, they must hang Campion instead.” -The princely visitor was still at Court, and -high festival went on from day to day. The -preoccupation of the Queen with him and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -his affairs was thought to be an excellent -item of the programme, as it kept her from -thinking of Campion and his fate. Delay -was dreaded as a means of getting together -of the great English nobles, and the foreign -ambassadors, with petitions for Campion’s -release; and it was thought that the Queen -would never resist any strongly-worded -request which so corroborated her own -supposed secret feeling. The Council still -thought his destruction desirable. Meanwhile, -instant appeal was made to the Duke, -by the Catholics generally, to use his influence -in Campion’s behalf: he promised to -intercede for him, and may have done so. -At the last moment further pressure was -brought to bear. His confessor was sent -into the tennis court, where the Duke was -about to begin a game, with this message: -that the royal blood of France would be disgraced -for ever, if so foul a judicial murder -were not checked. The little great personage, -thus accosted, as we are told by -Bombino, stroked his face absent-mindedly -with his left hand; then raised his right -hand, with the racket in it, and called to one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -opposite to him: “Play!” Not another -word did he answer to the tragic matter so -thrust upon him.</p> - -<p>Burghley fixed upon November 25, a -Saturday, as the date for Campion’s execution. -Sherwin was appointed to die in his -company, as representing the Seminary at -Rheims. They were taken together one day -into the Lieutenant’s Hall to face some endless -argument or other. The opponent, -“by report of such as stood by, was never -so holden up to the wall in his life.” On the -way back to their cells, under guard, they -crossed one of the Tower courts. “Ah, -Father Campion!” said his young comrade, -smiling at the welcome London sun, “I shall -shortly be above yon fellow.” Even one -hurried free breath of fresh air must have -meant much to Campion. To be “clapped -up a close prisoner,” as he had been from the -first, meant that his windows were blocked, -and their minimum of air strained through a -narrow slanted funnel, latticed at its skyward -end, and with but one tiny pane occasionally -opened at the bottom. But these things, -humanly intolerable, counted for little on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -the threshold of light and liberty everlasting. -“Delay of our death doth somewhat -dull me,” wrote Sherwin, touchingly, to a -friend. “Truth it is, I had hoped ere this, -casting off this body of death, to have kissed -the precious, glorified wounds of my sweet -Saviour, sitting in the Throne of His -Father’s own glory.” There was a good -deal of haggling and hesitation on the subject. -By statute law any caught priest was -hangable; but public opinion (as Simpson -reminds us in a brilliant page) did not -always run with the statute law. Moreover, -Camden says expressly that the Queen (who -is supposed to have supervised and approved -all he wrote) did not believe in the “treasons” -charged to the “silly priests.” It is -remarkable that the first defensive pamphlet -put forth by the Government after Campion’s -death, was one “in which the plot -of Rheims and Rome was prudently forgotten—the -very matter of the indictment!”</p> - -<p>By the time the day for the execution -was finally set for Friday, the first of December, -a third priest had been chosen from -the waiting batch of victims, as representing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -the English College at Rome. This -was the Blessed Alexander Briant, who had -applied from his prison cell for admission -into the Society of Jesus, a fact not known to -his persecutors. If the entry of his age in the -Oxford Matriculation Lists be correct (as is -most likely), he was now only in his twenty-sixth -year. He was grave and gentle in -character, full of charm, and of the most -extraordinary personal beauty. He had -been carried off in the course of a descent on -Fr. Parsons’ London rooms, starved and -parched in the Marshalsea, tortured by -needles, and kept in the entire darkness of -deep dungeons in the Tower. Norton, the -Rackmaster, on three occasions, proceeded -(in his own phrase) to “make him a foot -longer than God made him,” yet he adds that -“he stood still with express refusal that he -would tell the truth.” The “truth” meant -information of the whereabouts of Fr. Parsons, -a former tutor and devoted friend, and -of the place where Parsons’ books were -being printed. Briant had been condemned -the day after Campion’s trial, in Westminster -Hall, where his angelic looks, out-lasting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -a hell of almost unique torment, did -not pass unnoticed by the public. Here -(though some accounts say it was at the -scaffold) he carried in the palm of his hand, -and gazed upon often, a little cross of rough -wood which he had managed to whittle in -his cell, and on which he had traced an outline -in charcoal of the figure of the Crucified. -Pedro Serrano, the secretary of the Spanish -Ambassador, saw it taken away from Briant, -and heard him say: “You can wrest it from -my hand, but never from my heart.” Not -long afterwards George Gilbert died in -Italy, kissing Blessed Alexander’s little -cross, which he must have taken pains to -buy back.</p> - -<p>These three, Fathers Campion, Sherwin, -and Briant, were led forth on a bitter morning, -and bound to their hurdles, in the rain, -outside the Tower gates. Campion’s life for -the past week had been nothing but fasting, -watching and prayer, and he was never in -more gallant spirits. “God save you all, -gentlemen!” so he saluted the crowd, on -first coming out: “God bless you all, and -make you all good Catholics!” The two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -younger men were strapped down on one -hurdle side by side, Campion alone on the -other. The mud was thick in the unpaved -streets of London, and the double span of -horses, each flat hurdle being tied to two -tails, went at a great pace through Cheapside, -Newgate Street, and Holborn. There -were intervals, however, when the jolted and -bemired prisoners were able to speak with -their sympathizers, who surged in upon -them, and thus saved them for the moment -from the incessant annoyance of Charke and -other accompanying fanatics. Some asked -Fr. Campion’s blessing; some spoke in his -ear matters of conscience; one gentleman -courteously bent down and wiped the -priest’s bespattered face: “for which -charity, or haply some sudden-moved affection, -may God reward him!” says one -annalist who saw the kind deed done.</p> - -<p>The New Gate spanned the street where -the prison named after it stood until yesterday; -and in a niche of the New Gate was -still a statue of Our Lady: this Fr. Campion -reverenced, raising his head and his -bound body, as best he could, as he passed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -under. The three martyrs were seen to be -smiling, nay, laughing, and the people commented -with wonder on their light-heartedness. -A mile or so of sheer country at the -end of the road, and Tyburn was at hand, -stark against a cloudy sky, with a vast -crowd waiting to see the sacrifice: “more -than three thousand horse,” says Serrano, -in the contemporary letter already quoted, -“and an infinite number of souls.” And he -goes on, in the truest Catholic temper, -speaking for himself, the Ambassador, and -their little circle, to say, “there was no one -of us who had not envy of their death.” Just -as the hurdles halted, the sudden sun shone -out and lit up the gallows with its hanging -halters. Fr. Campion was set upon his -feet, put into the hangman’s cart, driven -under the triangular beams, and told to -put his head into the noose. This the first -martyr of the English Jesuits did with all -meekness. Then, “with grave countenance -and sweet voice,” he began to speak, as he -supposed he was to be allowed to do, -according to custom. He took the text of -St. Paul: “We are made a spectacle unto<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -the world, and to angels, and to men: we -are fools for Christ’s sake.” Sir Francis -Knowles and other officials promptly -interrupted him, and reminded him to -confess his treason. So once more he -must needs say: “I desire you all to -bear witness with me that I am thereof -altogether innocent. . . . I am a Catholic -man and a priest: in that faith have I lived, -and in that faith do I intend to die. If you -esteem my religion treason, then am I -guilty. As for other treason, I never committed -any: God is my judge.” He spoke -of the names which he had been hoodwinked -into confessing, and protested that all the -“secrets” held back were spiritual confidences, -and that there were no “secrets” -of another nature between his hosts and -him; he also put in a plea for one Richardson, -imprisoned on account of the <i>Decem -Rationes</i>, whereas he knew nothing whatever -of that book. He then tried to pray. -But a school-master with lungs, named -Hearne, hastily stepped forward and read a -novel proclamation, first and last of its -kind, declaring in the Queen’s name that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -these men about to be executed were perishing -not for religion but for treason. Diligent -reassertion, in those days, seems to -have established anything as a fact!</p> - -<p>The lords and sheriffs present reverted to -“the bloody question”: what did Master -Campion think of the Bull of Pius Quintus -and the excommunication of the Queen? -and would he renounce the Pope of Rome? -He answered wearily that he was a Catholic. -One voice shouted: “In your Catholicism -all treason is contained!” A minister came -forward to bid the martyr pray with him, -but with marked gentleness was denied his -will. “You and I are not one in religion: -wherefore, I pray you, content yourself. I -bar none of prayer, but I only desire them -of the Household of Faith to pray with me, -and in mine agony to say one Creed.” The -Creed was chosen “to signify that he died -for the confession of the Catholic and Apostolic -Faith.” He endeavoured again to -pray, probably using aloud the words of -some of the Vulgate Psalms or ritual -hymns, when a spectator called out angrily -to him to pursue his devotions in English.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -“I will pray unto God,” answered Campion, -with all himself in the answer, “in a -language which we both well understand!” -He was again interrupted, and ordered to -ask forgiveness of the Queen, and to pray -for her. But his sweetness and patience -held out till the last. “Wherein have I -offended her? In this am I innocent: this -is my last speech: in this give me credit. I -have and do pray for her.” “Pray you -for Queen—Elizabeth?” was the insinuating -query, made often, and answered often, -as here. Campion said: “Yea, for Elizabeth, -your Queen and my Queen, unto -whom I wish a long, quiet reign, with all -prosperity.” He had barely finished this -emphatic sentence when the cart was drawn -away. The multitude with one accord -swayed and groaned. Somebody in authority -(one account names the Chamberlain -of the Royal Household, Lord Howard -of Effingham) mercifully forbade the hangman -to cut the rope until he was quite dead. -That other rope with which Campion was -bound Parsons managed to buy, and he had -it laid about his own neck when he came to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -die, in 1610. It is now at Stonyhurst: a -thin, frayed old cord some twelve feet long.</p> - -<p>Close to the quartering-block stood a -spectator, a young gallant of twenty-three, -eldest son of a Norfolk house, who had -great gifts of mind, and was given to writing -verses: his name was Henry Walpole. -He was a Catholic, though, it would seem, -a worldly one. His generous instincts of -humanity, however, had led him to befriend -hunted priests; and a love of Campion, in -particular, was already kindled in him -through this association. As the executioner -threw the severed limbs of a blessed -soul into the great smoking cauldron, to -parboil them before they were stuck on -spikes, according to sentence, a few drops -were splashed out upon Henry Walpole’s -doublet. The incident roused his mind and -pierced his heart, and was to him the instant -cry of his vocation. Like many another -spiritual son of Blessed Edmund Campion -(and nearer to him than they, because he -entered the Society), he was granted the -glory of following him, through faults of -his own, through innumerable hardships,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -and through martyrdom at York, in April, -1595, into the peace of Paradise.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the hangman had seized the -second victim, saying: “Come, Sherwin! -take thou also thy wages.” That manly -man looked upon the bare bloody arm of -the other, and eager to show some public -veneration of his sainted leader, first bent -forward and kissed it; then he leaped into -the cart. Young Briant presently endured -death for the Faith with an even calmer -courage. The populace, much wrought up -over all three, went home, through the -winter mists, in tears. Most of them who -had prejudices against the Church lost them -for good; and very many straightway -entered her communion.</p> - -<p>The Government sent forth publication -after publication in lame defence of its -action. Soon France, Austria, Italy, were -inundated with accounts of the event; these -everywhere produced the deepest impression. -At home, a great tidal wave of conversion -to the old Church swept in.</p> - -<p>Campion’s death, last and best of his -wonderful missionary labours, bore the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -most astonishing fruit. The long storm of -persecution raged at its full fierceness after -1581, and it burst over the heads not only -of a far more numerous, but a far more -heroic body. Edmund Campion’s spirit had -been built in good time, as it were, into the -unsteady wall.</p> - -<p>Robert Parsons had an intense feeling -for his first comrade-in-arms. “I understand -of the advancement and exaltation of -my dear brother Mr. Campion, and his -fellows. Our Lord be blessed for it! it is -the joyfullest news in one respect that ever -came to my heart.” This same feeling -breaks out with powerful irony, addressing -the “Geneva-coloured” clerics, who so -long harassed the martyr-group of 1581. -“Their blood will, I doubt not, fight -against your errors and impiety many hundred -years after you are passed from the -world altogether. . . . They are well bestowed -upon you: you have used them to -the best.”</p> - -<p>And Allen, in a private letter, says on his -part: “Ten thousand sermons would not -have published our apostolic faith and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -religion so winningly as the fragrance of -these victims, most sweet both to God and -to men.”</p> - -<p>No remote mystic was Edmund Campion, -but a man of his age, with much endearing -human circumstance about him and in him. -Caring for nothing but the things of the -soul, he had yet caught the ear and the -eye of the nation. The tidings of his -end meant much to many of the great -Elizabethans: not least personal was it, -perhaps, to the lad Shakespeare, whose -father had been settled as a stout Recusant -by the Warwickshire ministrations of -Parsons.</p> - -<p>An aged priest, Gregory Gunne, came -up before the Council in 1585, his thoughts -and tongue too busy in Campion’s praise. -The day would come, he said, when a religious -house would stand as a votive offering on -the spot where “the only man in England” -had perished. There was still no sign of -such a thing when Mr. Richard Simpson’s -great monograph was first published, -and that was twenty years before Pope -Leo XIII beatified the Blessed Edmund<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -Campion on December 9, 1886. But now -there is a Convent with Perpetual Adoration -in its little chapel, and two bright -English flags ever leaning against the altar, -on that ground of the London Tyburn: and -is it wonderful that the vision of a worthier -memorial haunts the imagination of those -who go there to pray for their country?</p> - -<p>Blessed Edmund Campion was “a religious -genius,” with a creative spirituality -given to few, even among the canonized -children of the Fold. But in his kinship -with his place and time, his peculiar gentleness, -his scholarship lightly worn, his -magic influence, his fearless deed and flawless -word, he was a great Elizabethan too. -He had sacrificed his fame and changed his -career. He had spent himself for a cause -the world can never love, and by so doing -he has courted the ill-will of what passed for -history, up to our own day. But no serious -student now mistakes the reason why his -own England found no use for her “diamond” -other than the one strange use to -which she put him. He is sure at last of -justice. In the Church, that name of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -will have a never-dying beauty, though it -is not quite where it might have been on the -secular roll-call. To understand this is also -to rejoice in it: for why should we look to -find there at all, those who are “hidden -with Christ in God”?</p> - -<p class="center"> -THE END<br /> -<br /> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> - -<br />——————————<br /> -<small>BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD</small>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span><br /> -</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - - -<h2 class="faux">The St. Nicholas Series</h2> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 298px;"> -<img src="images/i-001-title.jpg" width="298" height="30" alt="The St. Nicholas Series" /> -</div> -<div class="center"><span class="smcap">Edited by the Rev. Dom Bede Camm, O.S.B.</span><br /> -<br /> -——————————<br /> -<big>LIST OF VOLUMES</big></div> - - -<ul class="booklist"> -<li>BARNABY BRIGHT. By <span class="smcap">Rev. David Bearne</span>, S.J. (2 vols.)</li> -<li>THE STORY OF BLESSED THOMAS MORE. By <span class="smcap">A Nun of Tyburn Convent</span>.</li> -<li>FATHER MATHEW. By <span class="smcap">Katharine Tynan</span>.</li> -<li>JEANNE D’ARC: THE MAID OF FRANCE. By <span class="smcap">C. M. Antony</span>.</li> -<li>ST. THOMAS OF CANTERBURY. By <span class="smcap">Rev. Robert Hugh Benson</span>.</li> -<li>VITTORINO DA FELTRE: A PRINCE OF TEACHERS. By <span class="smcap">A Sister of Notre Dame</span>.</li> -<li>THE LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER. By <span class="smcap">Rev. Cyril Martindale</span>, S.J.</li> -<li>GABRIEL GARCIA MORENO. By the <span class="smcap">Hon. Mrs. Maxwell-Scott</span>.</li> -<li>CARDINAL WILLIAM ALLEN. By <span class="smcap">Rev. Dom Bede Camm</span>, O.S.B.</li> -<li>BLESSED EDMUND CAMPION. By <span class="smcap">Louise Imogen Guiney</span>.</li> -<li>CARDINAL POLE. By <span class="smcap">J. M. Stone</span>.</li> -<li>THE MAN’S HANDS. By <span class="smcap">Rev. R. P. Garrold</span>, S.J.</li> -<li>THE STORY OF THE ENGLISH POPE. By <span class="smcap">F. M. Steele</span>.</li> -<li>MADGE-MAKE-THE-BEST-OF-IT. By <span class="smcap">M. E. Francis</span>.</li> -<li>FATHER DAMIEN OF MOLOKAI. By <span class="smcap">May Quinlan</span>.</li></ul> - - - -<div class="center"><br /> -<i>Each volume is in Foolscap 8vo., and has Six Illustrations<br /> -reproduced by the three-colour process.</i><br /> -<br /> -<i>Price per volume, 2s. net.</i><br /> -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<div class="tnote"><div class="center"> -<b>Transcriber’s Note:</b></div> - -<p>Obvious punctuation errors were corrected.</p> - -<p>Page 77, “Fowers” changed to “Flowers” (Little Flowers of Martyrdom)</p></div> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="pg" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLESSED EDMUND CAMPION***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 52731-h.htm or 52731-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/2/7/3/52731">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/7/3/52731</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. -</p> - -<h2>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> -<br /> -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</h2> - -<p>To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license.</p> - -<h3>Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works</h3> - -<p>1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8.</p> - -<p>1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.</p> - -<p>1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others.</p> - -<p>1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States.</p> - -<p>1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:</p> - -<p>1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed:</p> - -<blockquote><p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United - States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost - no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use - it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with - this eBook or online - at <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this - ebook.</p></blockquote> - -<p>1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.</p> - -<p>1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work.</p> - -<p>1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.</p> - -<p>1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License.</p> - -<p>1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.</p> - -<p>1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.</p> - -<p>1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that</p> - -<ul> -<li>You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation."</li> - -<li>You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works.</li> - -<li>You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work.</li> - -<li>You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.</li> -</ul> - -<p>1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.</p> - -<p>1.F.</p> - -<p>1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment.</p> - -<p>1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE.</p> - -<p>1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem.</p> - -<p>1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.</p> - -<p>1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions.</p> - -<p>1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. </p> - -<h3>Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm</h3> - -<p>Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life.</p> - -<p>Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org.</p> - -<h3>Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation</h3> - -<p>The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.</p> - -<p>The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact</p> - -<p>For additional contact information:</p> - -<p> Dr. Gregory B. Newby<br /> - Chief Executive and Director<br /> - gbnewby@pglaf.org</p> - -<h3>Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation</h3> - -<p>Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS.</p> - -<p>The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/donate">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>.</p> - -<p>While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate.</p> - -<p>International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.</p> - -<p>Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate</p> - -<h3>Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works.</h3> - -<p>Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support.</p> - -<p>Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition.</p> - -<p>Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org</p> - -<p>This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.</p> - -</body> -</html> - diff --git a/old/52731-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/52731-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d076c5d..0000000 --- a/old/52731-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52731-h/images/i-001-title.jpg b/old/52731-h/images/i-001-title.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 915648a..0000000 --- a/old/52731-h/images/i-001-title.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52731-h/images/i-004.jpg b/old/52731-h/images/i-004.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a56b3d2..0000000 --- a/old/52731-h/images/i-004.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52731-h/images/i-027.jpg b/old/52731-h/images/i-027.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 93c8f45..0000000 --- a/old/52731-h/images/i-027.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52731-h/images/i-093.jpg b/old/52731-h/images/i-093.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2c1112b..0000000 --- a/old/52731-h/images/i-093.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52731-h/images/i-143.jpg b/old/52731-h/images/i-143.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f076af5..0000000 --- a/old/52731-h/images/i-143.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52731-h/images/i-161.jpg b/old/52731-h/images/i-161.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7125303..0000000 --- a/old/52731-h/images/i-161.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52731-h/images/i-179.jpg b/old/52731-h/images/i-179.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d2c6522..0000000 --- a/old/52731-h/images/i-179.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52731-h/images/leaf.jpg b/old/52731-h/images/leaf.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d89104d..0000000 --- a/old/52731-h/images/leaf.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52731-h/images/maltese_cross.jpg b/old/52731-h/images/maltese_cross.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b20e614..0000000 --- a/old/52731-h/images/maltese_cross.jpg +++ /dev/null |
