death for his faith when this son was born; his wife being at the same time a close prisoner for the same cause. As for Mr. Thomas, having got some little tincture of grammar in his own country, he was sent abroad to the English college of Douay, where he arrived in 1603, and there made a good progress in learning; finished his course of philosophy; and was advanced two years in the study of divinity, when he was attacked with a long and lingering sickness, which obliged him to interrupt his studies, and return to his native country, in hopes of recovering his health by change of air; which had its desired effect, for after some time he recovered, and then, without delay, crossed the seas again, and returned to the college; where, having completed his divinity, and being found by the superiors every way qualified by virtue and learning for an apostolic life, he was presented to holy orders, in 1614, and sent upon the mission in 1615.

At his coming to London, the first visit he made was to a priest, an intimate friend of his, a close prisoner in the Gate-house; where, likewise, he celebrated mass for the first time after his arrival in England. After which, three months did not pass before he was apprehended, being upon his knees before the altar, after mass, in recollection and prayer. In this posture, the pursuivants found him, and immediately laying hands upon him, violently hauled him away, as if he had been some notorious robber or housebreaker, taken in the fact,

He was convened before some of the bishops, who put the usual murdering questions unto him. Was he a Roman priest? Why did he presume, after having taken orders in the church of Rome, to retura into England contrary to the laws of this nation? Was he willing to take the oath of allegiance? &c. To these interrogatories, Mr. Maxwell returned a plain and distinct answer, viz.: he owned himself a priest, ordained by a catholic bishop, according to the form appointed in the Roman pontificial, and by authority derived from the bishop of Rome. That as he was lawfully ordained, so was he likewise lawfully sent to preach the word of God, and to administer the sacraments to his countrymen and that as the mission of priests lawfully ordained is originally from Christ, who sent his apostles even as his father had sent him, he humbly conceived no human laws could justly render his return into England, criminal; for this would be to prefer the ordinances of men to the commands of the supreme legislator, Christ, himself. As to the rest, he would pay obedience in all civil matters to his majesty ; but would not take the oath of allegiance, as it was worded. Upon this he was sent to the Gate-house, where he had before offered to God the first fruits of his mission.

His conduct in prison (for about eight months) was truly religious and edifying to all. The author of the Latin account of his martyrdom, published at Douay the same year he suffered, who seems to have been an eye-wtness of his behaviour, gives this commendation of him that he wholly devoted himself to prayer, and other religious exercises; that he used great mortifications; and that his comportment in general, during the time of his confinement in the Gatehouse, was such as afforded great comfort and edification to the other prisoners. But as zeal for the conversion of souls was his predominant virtue,

it put him upon thoughts of making his escape out of prison, that he might be in a condition of being more serviceable to the souls of his neighbours at a time when priests were very much wanted. The design he communicated to a fellow-prisoner, a father of the Society of Jesus, who was his spiritual director, together with his motives and reasons; and further to learn the will of heaven, he earnestly recommended the affair to God in his devotions for many days; adding fasting and alms to his prayers, and humbly beseeching the Almighty to manifest his will to him, and give such issue to the undertaking as should be best pleasing to him, and most conducive to his divine honour and glory.

And now having concerted his measures, he attempted to put his design in execution, on the 24th of June, 1616; letting himself down in the dead of the night, from a high window, by the help of a cord. But when he was just come to the ground, he was surprised to find himself fast in the arms of an unknown person; who, by his loud cries, gave the alarm to the neighbourhood, and so turnkeys, watchmen, &c., came rushing in upon him, and after having hauled, dragged, beat, and buffeted him, to make sure work, they thrust him under a table, girding about his neck a massive collar of iron to this again, they fastened a ponderous chain of an hundred weight, wherewith they inhumanly load and fetter him; and in this painful posture, they keep him for some hours, till the morning, and then he met with even more barbarous usage, as we shall now see.

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There was in the Gatehouse, a subterraneous dungeon, a deep and dark hole, which, if we may judge by the filth and nastiness of the place, had not been opened or made use of, for a long time: in this dungeon was a pair of wooden stocks, of an odd contrivance, made not so much to secure, as to torture the prisoner. Here, by the jailor's orders, Mr. Maxfield was to take up his quarters; and in this engine his feet were fastened in such a manner, that he could neither stand upright, nor yet lie down or turn and move his body into any other posture for a little ease; to which, was added another torment more intolerable to human nature, from the swarms of venomous insects, generated in the filth and moisture of the vault, which by their creeping over his body, fast locked up in this cruel machine, sorely annoyed him, without his being able to make the least defence against them. The darkness, stench, horror, and torments of this place, the confessor of Christ endured from before day-break on Friday, till Monday night, that is, for above seventy hours together, without the least intermission, till a warrant was sent from the council for his immediate removal to Newgate, in order for his trial.

There was something so very cruel and barbarous in this treatment of Mr. Maxfield, that it moved the whole prison to compassionate his condition, and to study to give him help: so that not without danger of incurring the like penalty, they raised up a plank, and opened a small passage over the dungeon, through which they spoke to him, pitied his extreme sufferings, and threw him in an old blanket to cover him, being before almost naked. And a priest of the society, a prisoner there, whom Mr. Maxfield had made use of for his confessarius, ventured to

come to this hole to speak to him, to comfort him, and to exhort him to patience and courage. But what surprised this good father very much, was, to find the man of God so far from being dejected amidst that variety of sufferings, or in need of any human comforts, that his soul seemed to be elevated with supernatural lights, and abounding with heavenly consolations.

On Monday, at night, he was dragged out of his dungeon; living, indeed, and that was all; his face as pale as that of a dead corpse; his spirits sunk with hunger and want of rest, to that degree, that he was under continual faintings away: his hands and feet so benumbed, as to have lost all feeling and use; insomuch, that it was some time before he was able to move. However, the same night, having first fettered his arms, they hurried him away, and forced him to walk from Westminster to Newgate. Here he was committed to the common side, amongst a gang of felons, and was loaded with heavy irons, without any other convenience for a little rest, but the bare floor. But that which gave this holy soul the greatest pain, was, the profane and impious discourse of those miserable wretches, who, though threatened with approaching death, yet took no care to make their peace with God, but added daily, new crimes to their former load of wickedness, without the least remorse or sense of God's judgment upon impenitent sinners. Mr. Maxfield laid hold of every occasion to bring these poor wretches to a sense of their deplorable state, and to a repentance for their sins and the divine goodness gave that blessing to his words, that he reconciled two of the felons to God and his church. The keepers were soon acquainted with it, and he looked for nothing less than the stocks or dungeon a second time; but as his trial was at hand, and he was looked upon to be a dead man they winked at it; only took care to prevent the like practices for the future, by removing him from the common side, and placing him amongst his fellow-priests, a comfort he could not obtain before.

On Wednesday, the 26th of June, 1616, Mr. Maxfield was brought to the bar. The trial was soon over, for being indicted for taking orders in the Roman church, and exercising the same in England, he fairly confessed himself a priest, and so was remanded back to Newgate, locked up in a separate place by himself, loaded with heavy irons, and so strictly looked to, that no person was allowed to visit him. However, he procured by some means or other, to desire his fellow-priests in the other part of the prison, to recite the Te Deum, to give thanks to God for the blessings he had received that day. The next morning, he was again brought to the bar, to receive sentence, when the judge offered him his life, provided he would take the oath of allegiance. To which Mr. Maxfield replied, that his conscience would not permit him to take that oath, in the manner it was worded; that it contained some expressions, which he conceived, were not consistent with truth. Then turning himself to the standers-by, he desired them to take notice, that he was condemned for no other crime but his priesthood, no other treason being so much as objected against him; and that even for this too, in their own hearing, pardon had been offered him, provided he would take the oath of allegiance. He therefore protested, upon the word of a dying man, that he acknow.

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ledged King James his true and lawful sovereign; that he bore him, true and faithful allegiance, and was willing to declare the same upon oath, provided it were done without such clauses and assertions as are contrary to truth, and the catholic religion. After he had said this, he was proceeding to show the iniquity of the laws, by which men were condemned to death for exercising priestly functions, in a nation which had been converted to the christian faith by priests of the same religion; when the court interrupted him, bidding him attend to the sentence, which was pronounced in the usual form, viz; that he should be drawn to the place of execution, hanged, then cut down alive, dismembered and bowelled, his bowels to be thrown into the fire, his head to be severed from the body, his body quartered, &c. After sentence pronounced, he was hurried back to prison, and thrust into the condemned hole, where he lay till the execution day..

Strict orders were sent to Newgate, that no papists should have access to the prisoner. However, some few made interest to see him. Amongst others, a lady of quality found means to make him a charitable visit, who declared herself very much edified and comforted with his heavenly discourses and saintlike comportment.

The Spanish ambassador went to court to solicit a pardon for him; and that being refused, he petitioned at least for a reprieve; but was told that his excellency must wait till Tuesday next, for a final answer. This was on Sunday evening; and the death-warrant being signed for the executing the prisoners the very next day, the ambassador suspected the worst, but knew not how to remedy it. However, he sent his own son to wait on Mr. Maxfield personally, in Newgate, and with him his director, F. Didacus de Puente, a religious man of great learning and piety, of the order of St. Dominick, who in company of some others of the Spanish nation, got admittance to see and comfort the holy man, and to desire his prayers, not only for the ambassador and his family, but also for the king his master and the whole nation of Spain: assuring him withal, that no endeavours should be wanting on the ambassador's part, to procure him a reprieve, though he very much doubted whether he should succeed

These pious visiters found the priest of Jesus Christ in a dark dungeon, loaded with heavy irons, like the worst of malefactors; but withal perfectly calm, and even modestly cheerful under his sufferings. And though he was pretty well convinced that he was to die the next morning; yet was he so far from appearing dejected or dismayed at the terrors of approaching death, or the least dissatisfied with his lot, that on the contrary there appeared both in his countenance, and in his words and actions, such manifest signs of christian fortitude, and of an entire dependence and confidence in the divine protection for his support and strength in that last dreadful hour, together with such a saintlike and heavenly air in the whole conversation he had with these strangers, as transported them with a holy joy at the sight of the victim of faith, and filled them with respect and veneration towards so great a servant of God. The acts of his martyrdom tell us, that they threw themselves at his

feet; that they kissed his hands and his chains, and even the very ground he trod on, beseeching him with tears that they might be serviceable to him in one kind or other. Mr. Maxfield thanked them for their charitable offers, but told them, he wanted nothing but theirs, and other good christians' prayers, for obtaining the grace of God, that he might persevere to the end, and overcome the difficulties he was to encounter with; and therefore being very sensible of his own weakness and insufficiency, he desired them to pray for him. He likewise desired them to use their good offices with the ambassador, that at his return to Spain he would recommend to his catholic majesty the English college of Douay, upon which his royal predecessor, Philip the second, had settled an annual pension, which he hoped the present king, at the intercession of his excellency, would be pleased to continue. Upon this, they took their leave of him, and left him to his devotions. And the reverend father confessor, at his return home, caused the blessed sacrament to be solemnly exposed in the ambassador's chapel, where the family and other catholics spent the night in prayer in behalf of this holy priest, who was in the morning to pour forth his blood in defence of the catholic religion.

The next day, (the first of July,) very early in the morning, Mr. Maxfield was demanded by the sheriff to be carried to the place of execution and accordingly his irons were struck off, and he was immediately led out. It was observed, that much artifice was used to manage this business with as little noise as possible, insomuch that his fellow-prisoners, the priests and other catholics, who were lodged in that quarter of Newgate over against him, were kept close up, and not permitted so much as to see him, or receive his last blessing as he passed by. However, when he came opposite to the window, he turned his face towards it, and with an audible voice, bid them all adieu, and then making the sign of the cross upon himself and the crowd, he calmly and cheerfully laid himself down upon the sledge.

The adversaries, to prevent the great concourse of people, besides choosing so early an hour, had ordered that a woman should at the same time be burnt in Smithfield, in hopes that this would make considerable diversion, and draw a great part of the people that way: but all was to no purpose, the people poured in from all parts of the town: and streets, windows, and balconies were all thronged with unusual numbers to see this holy priest drawn to Tyburn and great multitudes there were, horse and foot, who accompanied him to the very place of execution, amongst whom were many catholics of fashion as well foreigners as English. The Spaniards distinguished themselves upon this occasion, who joined themselves in a body, and though they met with many affronts, forced their way through the crowd to the sledge, and accompanied the confessor to the end of his stage, frequently exhorting him to constancy and perseverance, and begging for themselves his prayers and blessing, with their heads uncovered and bowed down in the most respectful manner.

This was a sensible mortification to some people, who notwith