standing their forwardness to have this priest taken off, would gladly have had it done in a more private way; well knowing that putting priests to death for religious matters only, could not fail to bring an odium upon protestants. But there was yet another circumstance that was not less vexatious to them, for when they arrived at Tyburn, they found the gibbet beautifully adorned with garlands, and wreaths of flowers, and the ground all covered with odoriferous herbs and greens, in honour of the martyr who was going to suffer there, and of the cause for which he was to shed his blood.

Mr. Maxfield being now in the cart, turned himself to the people, and with a serene countenance and modest assurance, spoke to them to this purpose.

DEAR COUNTRYMEN,*- Whereas, my return into England, and my remaining here is the cause of my being brought hither to suffer a disgraceful death, I beg leave to assure you upon the word of a dying man, that my errand into my native country, after many years spent abroad, was not to encourage treasons and rebellions, or withdraw his majesty's subjects from their allegiance, or in any kind to intermeddle in state affairs, but only to be serviceable to the souls of my dear countrymen, by endeavouring to remove their errors, and bring them back to the faith of their ancestors. Know also, good people, that I am not of the number of those, of whom God complains by the mouth of his prophet, that they went without his sending. No, God forbid that I should undertake a business of this consequence without authority of superiors. I came here, because I was sent, and I was sent and commissioned to preach to you, by the same apostolic see which formerly sent St. Augustine and his companions into this kingdom, to instruct our Saxon ancestors in the faith of Jesus Christ; and surely as my mission was from the same authority, and directed to the same end, viz: the conversion of Englishmen to the catholic faith; by condemning me of treason for taking orders in the church of Rome, and remaining in England, you cannot but see that you involve St. Augustine in the same guilt of treason, a thing in itself absurd to all intents and purposes

Here the sheriff interrupted him, and would not suffer him to proceed; giving orders at the same time to the executioner to do his office. Upon which, Mr. Maxfield, falling upon his knees, employed himself for a few minutes in private devotions; then he raised his voice, and prayed aloud for the king, queen, and royal family, and likewise for the people of this kingdom in general; and after another pause, in silent prayer, he prayed again aloud for his persecutors, earnestly beseeching Almighty God to forgive all, as he for his part sincerely forgave them, who had been any ways instrumental in taking away his life. These prayers he made with a sedate countenance, and a devotion edifying to all. And now the executioner having fitted the cord to his neck, the confessor lifted up his eyes to heaven, and stretching forth his right hand, gave his last blessing to the people, which the greater part received with bare heads, and many of them kneeling. Then beseeching the catholics to assist his departing soul with their fervent prayers, he

* Exemplar Literarum, p. 29.

repeated aloud these words, Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit, and so the cart was drawn away.

He had hanged a very little while, when the sheriff cried out to the executioner to cut the rope, and butcher him alive, according to sentence. But the crowd opposing it, and by loud reproaches testifying their horror of such a barbarous proposition, the executioner held his hand, and he was permitted to hang till he was dead, at least to all sense of pain, and then he was bowelled and quartered.

The sheriff, to show his zeal, forbade, upon pain of imprisonment, that any one should dare to carry off any part of the body, or of his garments, or even of the straw upon which the body was butchered. And to prevent the catholics from stealing afterwards any of his relics, he ordered a pit to be made near the gallows, of an unusual depth, into which he threw the mangled limbs of the servant of God, and over them two half rotten carcases of felons that had been buried there a month before; and upon these again he cast in the bodies of thirteen malefactors who were executed that day, pressing down upon them a great quantity of earth, and so he thought he had done the work effectually. But some zealous young men, that very night, notwithstanding all the sheriff's precautions, opening the hole, took up the mangled body of the martyr, and carried it away in order to a more decent interment. He suffered July 1st, 1616.

Mr. Maxfield a little while before his trial, wrote the following letter to Dr. Kellison, then president of Douay college, the original of which is to this day preserved in the college.

'Most reverend and most dear father, as in duty I am bound never to forget you, who have ever had so tender and fatherly care of me; so now especially I must in no ways omit to write to you, being, peradventure the last time that ever I must salute you; for that now I expect with some hopes, (if so unworthy a wretch may presume to hope for so great a dignity,) to end my days in the just quarrel of my lord and master, Christ Jesu. I suppose, good sir, now that it has come to your notice of my attempt out of the Gatehouse; and how it hath pleased God to dispose of me, and deliver me again into the hands of my enemies, who apprehending me, put me to suffer unusual affliction and misery; the particular relation whereof, I choose rather to remit to some other, than myself to be the reporter. From thence I was removed by special warrant to Newgate: whence, as all men tell me, I am to be produced to my answer upon Wednesday or Thursday next, there to receive my trial on life and death, the happiest news and tidings that ever I heard: God give me strength and courage, and make me to glorify his glorious name by my death; and so to fill up the number of my glorified brethren, that are gone before me: I think myself most happy that I am branched out of, and still remain a member of that blessed house of Douay, that has afforded to our poor barren country so much good and happy seed. I am therefore yours, and so will live and die. Let me, therefore, dear father, be made partaker of your good prayers, and commend me, I beseech you, to all my good and dearly beloved brethren, whose happi

ness I wish ever as my own; and I will never cease, God willing, to pray for you and them, and for the prosperity of that house, both in life and after death. I am forced, dear good sir, to be brief, through the much company that cometh to me at this present, and other necessary business; but I hope you will pardon me, and accept of this as a token of great good will. I am your poor debtor, and, if I live, I will one day defray all; if otherwise, I hope you will remit it. And so in haste being called to the grate by the sheriff's man, I bid you, dear father, farewell, in Christ Jesu.

Your ever most dutiful,

THOMAS MAXfield.

THOMAS TUNSTAL, ALIAS, HELMES, PRIEST.*

THOMAS TUNSTAL, (who, in the Douay records, is called Helmes) was collaterally descended from the ancient family of the Tunstals, of Thurland, in Lancashire, (which, afterwards, removed into Yorkshire, where they have long resided at Scargill, Hutton, or Wickliff) but was himself born in the diocese of Carlisle. He performed his studies abroad in the English college of Douay; was ordained priest in 1609, and sent on the English mission, in 1610. Here he quickly fell into the hands of the persecutors, and spent four or five years of his mission in different prisons. His last confinement before his final apprehension, was in Wisbich castle, from whence he made his escape, letting himself down by a rope. From Wisbich, he made the best of his way into Norfolk, where he took shelter in a friend's house not far from Lynn. But he had been there very few days, when search was made for him, and he was apprehended.

There was in that neighbourhood a charitable lady, who did great service to the poor in the way of surgery. Mr. Tunstal stood in great want of such assistance, having grievously galled and wounded his hands by the rubbing of the rope, at the time when he made his escape; the sores, for want of proper applications, being grown exceeding painful. Therefore his catholic host advised him to apply to lady l'Estrange (this was her name,) and put himself under her care. She received him kindly, dressed his wounds, and promised him her best assistance for making a cure. However the good lady could not forbear talking to her husband, Sir Hammond l'Estrange, a justice of peace, of some particulars relating to her new patient; as, that he was in poor apparel, yet a gentleman-like man in his discourse and behaviour; but withal somewhat reserved in giving an account how he came by those wounds in his hands; that he was a stranger in the country, and lodged at the house of a popish recusant. The justice immediately cried out, This must be the popish priest lately escaped out of Wisbich, for whom he had that day received orders to make diligent search. Upon this, the lady is reported to have cast herself on her knees, to intercede for the

* From the account of his martyrdom, printed at Douay, in 1618, and from a manyscript sent me by CC, Esq., and two other written relations.

VOL. II.

9

man, begging her husband to take no notice of what she had said; adding, that she should be an unhappy woman all her life, if the priest should come to any trouble through her speeches. But notwithstanding all she could say or do, the knight persisted in his resolution of securing the man, and accordingly sent out his warrant, and had him seized and brought before him. And though the lady again renewed her instances to have him dismissed, yet she could not be heard: but Mr. Tunstal was forthwith committed to Norwich jail, where at the next assizes he was brought upon his trial and condemned.

By the Exemplar Litterarum, p. 36, &c., printed account of his martyrdom, published at Douay the same year, he was condemned upon the testimony of one single witness, and he a man of no conscience or honesty. This fellow made oath, that the prisoner had seduced two of the king's subjects from the protestant religion, to the superstitions of the church of Rome, and that he had made some attempts that way upon himself. Mr. Tunstal desired the parties might be allowed to speak what they knew; and being called upon, they both declared that what Symons the witness had sworn, was false; the prisoner's discourse to them being no other than a persuasive to holiness of life in general; and that neither of them had been reconciled: this, both of them offered to confirm upon oath. Symons being called again, farther deposed, that the prisoner had confessed himself to be a priest, in his hearing; and also, that he had been at Rome, and had spoken to the pope, who had conferred upon him power to forgive sins and dispense indulgences. This was perjury with a witness, for Mr. Tunstal had never seen Rome or Italy in his life. However, his solemn denial of these things was not regarded: but the jury was directed by the judge to find the prisoner guilty of the indictment, which was done accordingly.

The jury had no sooner brought in their verdict, but Mr. Tunstal signing himself with the sign of the cross, and falling upon his knees, with eyes and hands lifted up to heaven, cried out in an audible voice, Benedicta sit sancta trinitas, atque indivisa unitas; confitebimur ei, quia fecit nobiscum misericordiam suam. Blessed be the holy trinity, and undivided unity, we will confess to him, because he has showed his mercy unto us: and in that posture continued for a while in prayer.

Here, the judge "Altam" demanded if he would take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy? Mr. Tunstal replied, his conscience would not permit him to take those oaths; but if his lordship was pleased to appoint some minister to confer with him, he should be glad of the opportunity of rendering an account of his faith; and that he did earnestly entreat him that a conference might be had about religion, that truth might appear. But the judge cut him short, telling him, he was a crafty disputant, a cunning sophister, and as such, not to be heard or treated with by way of dispute. Instead of that, he bid him hearken to the sentence of death which he was to pronounce upon him, viz: that he should be drawn through the streets, to the place of execution, where he should be hanged by the neck, then cut down alive, &c. Deo Gratias, says Mr. Tunstal; and then, with a smiling countenance, turning to the judge, Why, my good lord, says he, this whole

dreadful sentence imports but one death; and I do assure your lordship, by the help of God's grace, I am not ashamed, nor afraid of death, come when it will.

The next day, about 9 o'clock, the sheriff with his officers, came to demand the prisoner: Mr. Tunstal with a cheerful countenance, saluted them, courteously telling them, he was ready to obey their orders; accordingly being brought to the hurdle, he fell upon his knees, and after some short devotions, rising up, he signed himself and the hurdle, with the sign of the cross, and so delivered himself to the officers to be pinioned and tied upon it, as they thought proper. He was drawn, for a long mile, through the street and ways so full of dust, that he had like to have been suffocated with it. When they arrived at the gallows, he was taken off the hurdle; and kneeling down at the foot of the ladder, he employed about a quarter of an hour in fervent prayer. When he got up, Sir Hammond l'Estrange, alighting off his horse, came and spoke to him in a courteous manner, with his head uncovered, to this effect. Well, Mr. Tunstal, I find then, you are determined to die, and I hope you are prepared for it. Indeed, Sir Hammond, says the holy man, die I must, neither do I repine at it; on the contrary, I have great reason to rejoice that I am to die in so good a cause; and therefore, I cannot but be thankful in a particular manner, to Sir Hammond l'Estrange, for being chiefly instrumental in bringing me to this place. I do heartily forgive you, sir, and I beseech God that my guiltless blood may not lie heavy upon you and yours. Sir Hammond thanked him, and so departed.

Then the sheriff ordered him to go up the ladder; which he did with great courage, blessing himself, kissing both the gallows and the rope, and having spent another quarter of an hour in private devotion, he turned to the people, and began to speak upon the text, Spectaculum facti sumus mundo, &c., 1 Cor. iv. 9. but was commanded to desist, the ministers apprehending the impression that his words might make upon the standers-by. Then he offered to inform the people at least, of the true cause of his condemnation, that it was upon account of taking orders abroad, and exercising his priestly functions in England, and not for any treasonable practices against the king, or government; declaring withal, that what Symons had sworn of his being at Rome, was false and that he had been condemned upon the testimony of one single witness, which he conceived was not according to law. But here again he was interrupted by Sir Thomas Jenkinson, and ordered to forbear making reflections upon the proceedings of the court.

Then he once more recollected himself in prayer, often repeating aloud, those penitential words, O God be merciful to me a sinner: and often calling upon the holy name of Jesus, which he had in a manner, continually in his mouth; and imploring the intercession of the blessed virgin and the saints. Then he prayed aloud for the king, queen, and royal family, and for the people of England in general. Beseeching God in his great mercy, to open their eyes, and bring them to the knowledge of the true faith;' which prayer he repeated three different times, with much fervour and devotion. He also, put up a short, but fervent prayer to God for the conversion and repentance of his accuser,