What's it to be...become a monk or be hanged?

Well, it turned out to be both in the case of another of our great martyrs, Blessed Sebastian Newdigate.

Born in the County of Middlesex he was a son of a nobleman and enjoyed the privileges of court and, in particular, the friendship of King Henry VII - a dangerous occupation if ever was.

After his wife had died prematurely, Sebastian decided to enter a monastery and remarked to his sister, Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria: "what would you say if you next heard of me as a monk?"

She responded: "I should be less surprised to see thee hung"

She lived to see both.

Not a judge of others
but obedient to God

Sebastian Newdigate, entered the London Charterhouse and sought the life of a monk but, when asked to sign the Oath of Supremacy, he refused and Henry had him cast first into Marshalsea Prison and then the Tower of London.

He remained firm in the face of Henry's promises and threats and when the King asked him if he was more learned than all the ecclesiatics put together he replied:

"I may not judge of others, nor do I esteem myself wise or holy, being far short in either, only this,  I assure myself that the faith and doctrine I profess is no new thing, but always among the faithful held for Christians and Catholic. We must obey God rather than man."


 He gained his martyr's crown at Tyburn on 19th June 1535 along with BB.  Middlemore and Exmew


  Martyrs of England and Wales - ORA PRO NOBIS

The new, magnificent, exceptional memorial to the Tyburn Martyrs....

                                       

...the only trouble is that it ain't there! In January 2009 The Catholic Herald's Simon Caldwell wrote comprehensively about how a new memorial had been agreed and how the designs were being drawn up for consideration.
Here is an extract from his report:-

Since the Fifties the site of the gallows has been marked simply by a stone roundel in a traffic island at the intersection of Edgware Road and Bayswater Road, near to Marble Arch, bearing the image of a plain black cross and the words: "The site of the Tyburn Tree."

But Westminster City Council has begun looking for ideas for a more fitting memorial.

The council's Public Art Advisory Panel has discussed some of the proposals at a private meeting, including an etching of the shadow of the Tyburn Tree into pavement brickwork.

Another proposal is understood to involve three illuminated pillars to stand above the site once occupied by the three-sided gallows.

Rosemarie MacQueen, strategic director for built environment at Westminster City Council, said funding was needed and hoped the Catholic community would be able to contribute.

"We have been looking at ways to make the memorial to the Tyburn martyrs more substantial and informative in the future provided we can secure funding for the project, as we feel that the hangings which happened there should be clearly marked for anyone who might want to understand the area's history," she told The Catholic Herald.

                                                           

I visited Tyburn (Marble Arch) last Saturday and searched for a long time before I found the 'old' memorial, a round plaque set in a pavement on a traffic island at a busy intersection of the Edgware Road. Is this (or  was it ever) a suitable and respectful place for such a memorial? No, of course not but I guess it's part of the English Catholic 'Uncle Tom' attitude to our secular society - "be grateful for any crumbs you are offered and don't rock the boat" sums it up.

The build up of traffic around the plaque is intense and I feel sure that many who have come to view have risked a modern martyrdom under the wheels of a BMW X5M Series. At some stage a lorry must have mounted the island as the plaque has a large crack across its centre. All in all it is a pathetic apology for the 105 brave souls who died for the faith here.

Having read Simon Caldwell's feature, I felt sure that the new memorial must be just about ready for an unveiling.  I was not too enamoured of more pavement type etchings, would a Council erect a War Memorial at floor level? Not likely.

For my money, one could not do better than to re-create the actual three tree gallows, either in stone or wood, that stood on the spot 400 plus years ago. In terms of location it must move away from the humiliating traffic island to a central site closer to the imposing Marble Arch - there's plenty of space and I for one, am not too worried if it is 42 yards, or whatever,  away from the "actual" spot of the gallows.

A grand memorial - but not to the Martyrs!

So, trembling with anticipation (almost) I telephoned Westminster City Council only to meet with a very efficient and helpful voice at the other end. "No" he had never heard of a "Tyburn what?" but he spent 15 minutes trying to locate news of its progress.
A blank. Never mind; next stop has to be the Press Office of Westminster Diocese - no reply, instead I left my message and awaited a response. None came. Second phone call and another message, still no reply.
I tried again the following day and spoke to a live person who promised that the message receiver would phone me back which she did 10 minutes later.
"The what?" (I was beginning to get used to this scenario) "The Tyburn Martyrs Memorial, where is it located?" I now began to develop my Chief Inspector Dreyfus (aka Herbert Lom) type twitch, it started at one eyebrow and before long it had spread down the right hand side of my face. "It's at Marble Arch" I managed to splutter but, sadly, it appears as if no one in the Diocese knows what has happened to it. And, frankly, no one seems to care.
Are the designs resting on some trendy architect's computer? Has it been created and is now lying forgotten in some Westminster City Council parking lot?


Who knows? Certainly not the Diocese or the Council.

If it's a question of cash I am quite confident that Catholics the world over would chip in a few dollars, euros or zlotys and that it would not take too long to provide a decent sum. Meanwhile, you may pay your respects surrounded by noise, bustle and exhaust fumes looking at a cracked roundel next to manhole cover and surface water relief system 3409.

Catholic London

A Benedictine nun prays before the Blessed Sacrament at Tyburn Convent, Marble Arch, London. Thank God that we still have women religious of this stature and please pray for more vocations.

Tyburn Tree by Francis Thompson

RAIN, rain on Tyburn tree,
Red rain a-falling;
Dew, dew on Tyburn tree,
Red dew on Tyburn tree,
And the swart bird a-calling.
Thence it roots so fast and free,
Yet it is a gaunt tree,
Black as be
The swart birds alone that seek,
With red-bedabbled breast and beak,
Its lank black shadow falling.

The shadow lies on England now
Of the deathly-fruited bough,
Cold and black with malison
Lies between the land and sun;
Putting out the sun, the bough
Shades England now!

The troubled heavens do wan with care,
And burthened with the earth’s despair
Shiver a-cold ; the starved heaven
Has want with wanting man bereaven.
Blest fruit of the unblest bough!
Aid the land that smote you, now!
Which feels the sentence and the curse
Ye died if so ye might reverse.
When God was stolen from out man’s mouth,
Stolen was the bread; then hunger and drouth
Went to and fro ; began the wail,
Struck root the poor-house and the jail.
Ere cut the dykes, let through that flood,
Ye writ the protest with your blood ;
Against this night wherein our breath
Withers, the toiled heart perisheth,
Entered the caveat of your death.
Christ, in the form of His true Bride,
Again hung pierced and crucified,
And groaned, “I thirst!” Not still ye stood,—
Ye had your hearts, ye had your blood ;
And pouring out the eager cup,
“The wine is weak, yet, Lord Christ, sup !
“Ah, blest ! who bathed the parched Vine
With richer than His Cana-wine,
And heard, your most sharp supper past,
“Ye kept the best wine to the last !”

Ah, happy who
That sequestered secret knew,
How sweeter than bee-haunted dells
The blosmy blood of martyrs smells!
Who did upon the scaffold’s bed,
The ceremonial steel between you, wed
With God’s grave proxy, high and reverend Death ;
Or felt about your neck, sweetly,
(While the dull horde
Saw but the unrelenting cord)
The Bridegroom’s arm, and that long kiss
That kissed away your breath, and claimed you His.
You did, with thrift of holy gain,
Unvenoming the sting of pain,
Hive its sharp heather-honey. Ye
Had sentience of the mystery
To make Abaddon’s hooked wings
Buoy you up to starry things ;
Pain of heart, and pain of sense,
Pain the scourge, ye taught to cleanse ;
Pain the loss became possessing ;
Pain the curse was pain the blessing.
Chains, rack, hunger, solitude these,
Which did your soul from earth release,
Left it free to rush upon
And merge in its compulsive sun.
Desolated, bruised, forsaken,
Nothing taking, all things taken,
Lacerated and tormented,
The stifled soul, in naught contented,
On all hands straitened, cribbed, denied,
Can but fetch breath o’ the Godward side.
Oh to me, give but to me
That flower of felicity,
Which on your topmost spirit ware
The difficult and snowy air
Of high refusal ! and the heat
Of central love which fed with, sweet
And holy fire i’ the frozen sod
Roots that had ta’en hold on God.

Unwithering youth in you renewed
Those rosy waters of your blood,—
The true Fons Juventutis—ye
Pass with conquest that Red Sea,
And stretch out your victorious hand
Over the Fair and Holy Land;
Compasses about
With a ninefold-battled shout,
Trumpet, and wind and clang of wings,
And a thousand fiery things,
And Heaven’s triumphing spears: while far
Beneath go down the Egyptian war—
A loosed hillside—with brazen jar
Underneath your dreadful blood,
Into steep night. Celestial feud
Not long forbears the Tudor’s brood,
Rule, unsoldered from his line,
See unto the Scot decline ;
And the kin Scots’ weird shall be
Axe, exile and infamy ;
Till the German fill the room
Of him who gave the bloody doom.
Oh by the Church’s pondering art
Late set and named upon the chart
Of her divine astronomy,
Though your influence from on high
Long ye shed unnoted! Bright
New cluster in our Northern night!
Cleanse from its pain and undelight
An impotent and tarnished hymn,
Whose marish exhalations dim

Please note: This poem was also posted recently by The Sensible Bond



THE LATIN MASS IS BANNED AND ALTARS ARE RIPPED OUT...

It is happening across England and Wales and the Bishops, with one exception, sit on their hands and do nothing. Traditional vestments are disposed of, altars are replaced with tables, Catholic books burnt, the Bishops are described by a leading politician as "a weak clergy lacking in grace." The laity, for the most part, has caved in and accepted a replacement "Protestantised Mass" in the vernacular.


Welcome to England and Wales in the year of Our Lord, 1535 (it could have been 1969 for that matter). The only exception was that in 1535 those who refused to adopt the Sunday Service in English were either fined or brutally butchered for their beliefs. In 1969 they were just isolated and abused.

"Sweet Jesu, what will you do with my heart?"

It was St Thomas More (then already imprisoned in the Tower of London) who, earlier,  made the comment about a weak clergy lacking in grace and it was the great Bishop of Rochester, John Fisher who also stood up for his beliefs and paid the ultimate price.

The harvest of Catholic martyrs was an abundant one in 1535 and it bloomed with the stand taken by Abbot Houghton and his three fellow priests.

On May 4, 1535 the authorities sent to their death at Tyburn, London three leading English Carthusians, John Houghton, prior of the London house, Robert Lawrence and Augustine Webster, respectively priors of Beauvale and Axholme, along with a Bridgettine monk, Richard Reynolds of Syon Abbey in Isleworth.
(Wikipedia)
More Carthusians were to follow a month later and more yet after that but the Abbot was in the forefront. It was, when one considers it, a pathetically small number of priests and one Bishop who stayed in place and faced up to a dissolute and degenerate King.
Out of all the clergy of England and Wales, probably less than 100 stood up to be counted. (I am excluding the Jesuit priests who returned to England and Wales on the Mission).

On May 4th the three Carthusians and the Bridgettine, St Richard Reynolds were taken from the Tower and crudely tied to hurdles drawn by horses. Their heads were positioned under the horse's tails so that they received faeces from the animals directly. The streets of London were ankle deep in human and animal ordure and the state of these holy men when they arrived at Tyburn can only be imagined.

St Thomas More spied them being transferred to Tyburn from his cell window and remarked to his daughter:

"Look, Meg," he said, "these blessed Fathers be now as cheerfully going to their deaths as bridegrooms to their marriage!"

Abbot John was the first to be executed and was swiftly cut down from the gallows whilst still conscious. As his body was being slit open he exclaimed: "Sweet Jesu, what will you do with my heart?" A most moving exclamation.
Finally, his body was hacked into portions which were then distributed around the pikes and high places of London as an example to all.

More and Fisher were to follow these brave men to their execution a matter of eight or so weeks later.

       MARTYRS OF ENGLAND AND WALES - ORA PRO NOBIS

Thomas Tichborne, priest and martyr

Tyburn was busy on April 20th 1602. At least three great priests won their crowns that day; Fr Thomas Tichborne, Fr Robert Watkinson and Fr Francis Page.

Father Tichborne belonged to an old Hampshire Catholic family and went to Rheims to study in 1584 and then on to Rome in 1587.
Returning to England to take up his priestly duties he was quickly arrested and thrown into prison.
A daring rescue by Thomas Hackshot and Fr Tichborne's cousin, Nicholas, resulted in an attack on his jailer as he was transferring the prisoner. The jailer was knocked to the ground and Fr Tichborne was freed.
Both Thomas Hackshot and Nicholas Tichborne were soon apprehended and endured unspeakable tortures before being executed on 20th August 1601.

Our Lady Queen of Martyrs, Chideock Dorset

Fr Tichborne remained at large until he met an apostate priest by the name of Atkinson in the street. Recognising him, Atkinson shouted out: "Stop the priest" to which Fr Tichborne responded with absolute truth and aplomb: "I am no more a priest than yourself".

On 20th April 1602 he suffered hanging drawing and quartering at Tyburn with his two brother priests.
Fr Atkinson was able to celebrate Mass in his cell on the day of execution and eyewitnesses state that about his head shone a 'bright light like a ray of glory'. This lasted from the consecration until communion.

MARTYRS OF ENGLAND AND WALES ORA PRO NOBIS

John Nelson SJ, Martyr, celebrated Candlemas in his own fashion

One of the very few things that has irked me concerning my beautiful wife, is that, despite being brought up in the Protestant faith and being a practising Anglican until the early 70s, she can claim two Catholic martyrs in her ancestry. St John Nelson is one of them. Whereas I, having been a cradle Catholic (I nearly said 'all my life') have no such illustrious background - Famine Irish is my lot.

Father Nelson was born in 1534 into an old Yorkshire family and was a  late vocation only joining Douay at the age of 39. He returned to England as a priest in 1577 and commenced his ministry. Fairly early on his priestly life he was called to carry out an exorcism and, having cast out the evil spirit it informed him that his life would now be forfeit.

Apprehended on 1st December 1577, he was thrown into jail after refusing to affirm to the Oath of Supremacy. He suffered his torments cheerfully in the manner of most if not all of the martyrs and, when faced with the day of his execution being arranged for Candlemas Day he accepted gladly and was able to receive the Blessed Sacrament from a priest friend that day.

When his jailer offered him wine before the execution he responded that he would rather have vinegar and gall "to more closely follow My Lord".

      Tyburn 3rd February 1578 - ST JOHN NELSON - ORA PRO NOBIS

The last words of a Saint

The date: 1st February 1645 - the place Tyburn, London - the event: the execution of Fr Henry Morse SJ

" I am come hither to die for my religion, for that religion which is professed by the Catholic Roman Church, founded by Christ, established by the Apostles, propagated through all ages by a hierarchy always visible to this day, grounded on the testimonies of Holy Scriptures, upheld by the authority of Fathers and Councils, out of which in fine, there can be no hopes of salvation. Time was when I was a Protestant being then a student of the law in the Inns and Court in town, till, being suspicious of the truth of my religion, I went abroad into Flanders, and upon full conviction renounced my former errors, and was reconciled to the Church of Rome, the mistres of all Churches. Upon my return to England I was committed to prison for refusing to take the Oath of Supremacy, and banished.
After seven years I returned to England as a priest, and devoted myself to the poor and the plague-stricken".
"No self glorification here" interrupted the Sherriff.
"I will glory only in God" continued the martyr, "Who has pleased to allow me to seal the Catholic faith with my blood, and I pray that my death may atone for the sins of this nation, for which end and in testimony of the one true Catholic Faith confirmed by miracles now as ever, I willing die"

Within a minute he had the noose placed around his neck and, a few minutes after that, the process of drawing and quartering took place.

ST HENRY MORSE - ORA PRO NOBIS

A Mass of Thanksgiving..........1645

Chapel of St George and the English Martyrs
Wesminster Cathedral, London

February 1st, 1645 and Father Henry Morse SJ faces the day of his execution. His first act of the day is to celebrate an early Mass, a Votive Mass of the Holy Trinity which he dedicates in thanksgiving to Almighty God for granting him, this great favour; that of being brutally martyred by being hanged until semi conscious, cut down, his stomach slit open and his intestines removed and then his heart and lungs to be plucked from his body. Finally, his body to be butchered into four quarters and put on display for the common man to gawp at.
Before the Mass in prison, Fr Morse recited the Litanies of Our Lady and of all the Saints, as was the custom, for the cause of the conversion of England.
After Mass he exhorted those present to hold true to the Faith and then he rested for an hour before saying the Canonical Hours and making his farewell tour of the jail to give cheerful farewells to his fellow prisoners.
At last, as his hour arrived he threw himself to his knees and prayed fervently:
"Come, my sweetest Jesus that I may now be inseperably united to Thee in time and eternity: welcome ropes, hurdles, gibbets, knives, and butchery, welcome for the love of Jesus my Saviour".
He was then tied to a sledge and drawn by four horses to Tyburn.

To be continued.......................

They joked as they made their way towards Tyburn and death

Father Thomas Reynolds and Father Bartholomew Roe OSB. Two of our greatest martyrs went together to their execution in front of the mob at Tyburn (now Marble Arch in London).
Both were converts with Fr Reynolds coming from Oxford and Fr Roe from Cambridge. Fr Reynolds ministered for an amazing fifty or so years in England and suffered many trials and reprieved sentences of execution. Finally, the day came when no reprieve was forthcoming and he received his sentence of death. By then he was very infirm from all his sufferings but he prayed earnestly for God's grace to meet his execution with dignity.

Fr Roe became a Benedictine at Dieulwart, Lorraine and then undertook a great many daring escapades on the English Mission. When caught he received imprisonment lasting seventeen years during which time he was twice given crude surgery for unknown conditions.



Marble Arch today, site of the Tyburn Tree

 Fr Reynolds was already tied to the hurdle when Fr Roe was led out. Lying down by his side Fr Roe felt his friends pulse and jokingly asked him how he was. "In good heart" replied Fr Reynolds and praised God for giving him such a cheerful companion.
Their way to Tyburn (along Tyburn Road, now Oxford Street) is described as "a triumphal procession" as they were mobbed by Catholics who threw themselves on their knees begging blessings and kissing the hands and the clothing of the two heroes.

They both gained their crowns on January 21st 1641 - ORA PRO NOBIS!