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Sewentccn Suffolk martprs, 
 
 BY 
 
 NINA FRANCES LAYARD, 
 
 With Preface by 
 THE REV. CANON GARRATT, 
 
 With Illustrations. 
 
 SMITHS, SUITALL PRESS. 
 
 1902. 
 (All Rights ReservedJ. 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
 • 
 
 THE NOBLE ARMY OF MARTYRS : PRAISE THEE. 
 
Is 
 
 Preface. 
 
 "M" EGLECT of the lessons of Ecclesiastical History is characteristic 
 of the a^e in which we live. Never was the history itself 
 so' much studied, never were its lessons so little used as a guide 
 for the present. 
 
 Historical facts there are which it is thought convenient to 
 ignore. For it is another characteristic of the day to find excuses 
 for all the past however deserving of blame. As a necessary 
 result of this condoning of evil is the oblivion which has fallen 
 on sufferers for righteousness' sake. Who thinks now of the great 
 army of martyrs, who, in our own land, have in time past laid 
 down their lives for the truth ? The oppressors are lauded, the 
 oppressed are forgotten if not blamed. The persecutors are 
 thought well of, the men and women whom they have trampled 
 under foot and killed are forgotten. The following pages shew 
 that, hidden from the eyes of the English nation, there are records 
 of holy martyrs and confessors, suspected of what they called 
 heresy, sometimes tracked out by spies, hunted, condemned, treated 
 as the offscouring of all things by the body which laid claim to 
 the title of the Catholic Church. 
 
 213 
 
This body still exists and makes the same claim. It has 
 never disavowed its action or condemned the men who in its 
 name committed these atrocities. And yet there are those who 
 are straining every nerve to bring this nation into subjection to 
 it again. For this purpose they attempt to put out of sight the 
 truth of history, and hide iniquities in which the Church of 
 Rome still glories. These suffering men and women were members 
 of that Holy Catholic Church of which Christ is the Head, 
 and which will only become visible when its Head appears. What 
 calls itself the Church, and is in reality the Apostasy foretold 
 by St. Paul, condemned them to death if they would not commit 
 the idolatry of worshipping as God the consecrated Host. There 
 are other things for which they also suffered martyrdom, but these 
 saints of God, in East Anglia at all events, were enrolled in 
 the noble army of martyrs mainly for their resistance to the 
 doctrine of Transubstantiation and its necessary result in the 
 idolatry of the Mass. 
 
 " Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His 
 saints," and it must be most pleasing in His sight to have their 
 deaths recorded. A day will come when the books shall be 
 opened. In the Book of Life what a catalogue will there be of 
 holy men and women who have died or otherwise suffered for 
 Christ's name sake ! Their histories may now lie buried in 
 ancient libraries, covered with the dust of centuries, but they will 
 not, any of them, be missing from the book of God's remembrance. 
 And in searching them out and bringing to light these forgotten 
 memorials of what our martyrs suffered, Miss Layard has been 
 doing a work which must be in accordance with the mind of Him 
 to whom in life and in death these men and women witnessed. 
 It will be an evil day for England if she is unmindful of the 
 
past, and ever again allows the Roman Church which, when she 
 has the power, cannot but persecute according to her principles, 
 to obtain ascendency once more. In Roman Catholic days before 
 the Reformation, martyrdoms of Lollards and others were 
 common, but it was after Protestant truth had shone for a time 
 brightly in our land, and the darkness had fallen again upon 
 it, that the martyrdoms described in this book took place, when 
 it might have seemed impossible. It is well to read of them : 
 " Lest we forget ! Lest we forget ! " 
 
 SAMUEL GARRATT. 
 
AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In attempting to resuscitate these tales of Suffolk Martyrs, I shall not 
 apologize for largely drawing upon Foxe, the historian, for the facts. This 
 writer has been much maligned by those naturally anxious to throw discredit on 
 his work, and it is therefore satisfactory to be able to testify by personal research 
 in the very locality where these tragedies are said to have occurred, to the 
 veracity of statements made by him concerning some of our local heroes. That 
 he was at great pains to correct any mistakes which might have crept into his 
 book, we know by the very fact that he came to Ipswich himself to enquire 
 nto two cases alleged to have been misrepresented by him. Being convinced 
 that in the one case he had been deceived he expunged it from his work, bu 
 having proved the truth of the other account it was retained. 
 
 It would be surprising, if amongst the enormous amount of material which 
 he accumulated, some errors had not found their way into the collection, but he 
 did his best to sift the true from the false, and was genuinely anxious to 
 record only reliable information. In his own words, "If a lie be, after the 
 definition of Saint Augustine, 'whatsoever thing is pronounced with the intent 
 to deceive another,' then I protest to you and to all the world, there is never 
 a lie in all my book. . . . For my own part I will say, although ma»y vices 
 I have, yet this one 1 have always of nature abhorred, wittingly to deceive any 
 man or child, so near as I could, much less the Church of God, which I, with 
 all my heart do reverence, and with fear obey."* 
 
 As regards Ipswich, Foxe seems to have had special opportunities for 
 receiving news. Among his personal friends in the town, was one Mr. James 
 Smyth, a young man, who commanded his "privat affection and good will," and 
 was withal " worthy, godly and lerned." This man he recommended to the 
 Lord Chief Justice to be made " Schoolmaster of Ipswich." 
 
 When it is remembered that Foxe's first work was published no later than 
 1559, we realize that he was contemporary with many of the people of whom 
 he wrote, and we can form some estimate of the esteem in which the Book of 
 Monuments was held by the fact that it was ordered to be chained in the 
 Churches side by side with the Bible. Only in 1825 were the three volumes 
 removed from their time-honoured place in Hadleigh Church. 
 
 N.F.L. 
 
 Ipswich, 1902. 
 
 •For further notes relating to Foxe's original papers at the British Museum, see Appendix 
 
(8:>0nXcniti* 
 
 SAINT BILNEY 
 
 THE STORY OF AGNES WARDALL 
 
 THE MIRACULOUS ROOD OF DOVERCOURT 
 
 A BILL ON IPSWICH TOWN HALL .. 
 
 THE HERO OF HADLEIGH .. 
 
 NAMES THAT WE MISS 
 
 A MARTYR OF BERGHOLT .. 
 
 AGNES POTTEN & JOAN TRUNCHFIELD 
 
 A ST. MARGARET'S HERO .. 
 
 A PLOUGHMAN'S DAUGHTER 
 
 WATCH WARD & THE STORY OF THE "OLD COFFEE 
 HOUSE" 
 
 PAaK 
 I 
 
 II 
 21 
 29 
 
 39 
 57 
 65 
 75 
 81 
 89 
 
 99 
 
SMITHS, 
 
 PKINTERS. BOOKBINDBRS, AND PUBLISHIRS, 
 
 SUITALL, IPSWICH. 
 
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Saint Bilney. 
 
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 Saint Biln^p. 
 
 There are many sacred spots in Ipswich over which we pass 
 unconcernedly, because unconsciously, places in which tragic scenes 
 have been enacted, or deeds of heroism performed. If the stones 
 could speak what tales of daring they would tell, what visions of 
 heroes " striving unto blood" would be conjured up to arrest our 
 careless feet, and command our reverent admiration. 
 
 Even the very churches would acquire a new and sacred interest 
 if we could people them again with those stalwart saints of old, 
 who bore the brunt of the battle, when to be true to conviction 
 was inevitably to suffer. 
 
 It is not, perhaps, generally known that one of the most 
 interesting of the martyrs connected with Ipswich preached a 
 memorable sermon in Christchurch, which, with other daring 
 utterances, was eventually to cost him his life. 
 
 Whether the pulpit that Thomas Bilney then occupied stood 
 in the Priory Church of St. Trinity which was originally situated 
 on the lawn now fronting Christchurch mansion to the east, or 
 whether it was actually in St. Margaret's that the celebrated 
 sermon was preached, cannot be positively stated; but as at that 
 date. May 28th, 1527, St. Margaret's had already been standing 
 for two hundred years or more, it is possible that it was here 
 the fearless words were spoken. Friar John Huggen was at the 
 service, with Friar Salles, and a certain Richard Seman, and 
 these took notes of what passed, to be afterwards used in evidence 
 against the preacher. 
 
4 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 But yet another Ipswich church was to be the scene of the 
 beginning of the final tragedy, for old records tell us that it 
 was in St. George's Chapel, which formerly stood on the site now 
 occupied by St. George's Terrace in George Street, that Bilney 
 was apprehended and dragged from the pulpit as he was preaching 
 in favour of the Reformation. 
 
 A reference to Speede's map of Ipswich, dated 1610, shows 
 the Chapel still standing, and Ogilby's map gives the ground plan 
 of the building. Besides these, pictures of the ruins are extant, 
 and in early editions of Foxe's "Monuments" the little church 
 with its round tower is represented. 
 
 It was at about the time of Bilney' s conversion to 
 Protestantism that Cardinal Wolsey awakened to the fact that a 
 more rigorous suppression of heretics would be advantageous to 
 his own cause, especially as the strictures openly passed on his 
 evtravagant way of living by men of spiritual mind, was likely 
 to militate against his almost regal authority, and he at once 
 proceeded to stringent measures. , 
 
 On November 27th, 1527, Bilney, with his friend Arthur, 
 was brought before him, charged with holding opinions contrary 
 to the Catholic Church. But it was a serious matter to deliver 
 over such a man to the secular power, for he was widely known 
 for his effectual preaching, and loved by a large circle of friends, 
 especially at Cambridge. 
 
 " Little of stature and very slender of body," the greatness 
 of his spirit made him a power among his contemporaries. A 
 tender, sensitive, loveable soul, he was admired alike for his 
 fervent spirituality, and unbounded philanthropy. It was Thomas 
 Bilney who was to be found where-ever suffering or despair had 
 claimed their victims. Now he was tending the lepers in lazar 
 cots, wrapping them up in sheets with his own hands, when the 
 courage of others might have failed, speaking to them words of 
 soothing, and leading their weary souls to take rest in comfortable 
 pastures. Prisoners and outcasts knew him well, for to be desperate 
 
SAINT BILNEY. 5 
 
 or undone was at once to have a claim on the friendship of 
 Bilney. Now he was stinting himself of food, and training- his 
 delicate constitution to be content with but one meal a day, 
 because he must carry the rest to some hungry one, whose 
 famished soul he would strive to satisfy while administering 
 bodily relief. 
 
 But through what spiritual discipline he had himself passed, 
 before he was thus fitted to comfort others ! How he had fasted 
 and watched, attended masses and spent his money in buying 
 pardons, until, as he says in a letter to Tonstal, Bishop of London, 
 ** There was but small force of strength left in me (who of 
 nature was but weak), small store of money, and very little wit 
 or understanding. ' ' 
 
 It was just at this juncture that Erasmus made his translation 
 of the New Testament, and Bilney, attracted merely by the 
 scholarly work, obtained a volume. At the very first reading, 
 as he tells Tonstal, " I chanced upon this sentence of St. Paul 
 (O most sweet and comfortable sentence to my soul), in i Tim. 
 I , ''It is a true saying and worthy of all men to be embraced^ that 
 Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners ; of which I am the 
 chief and priricipal^^ which did so exhilarate my heart, being 
 wounded with the guilt of my sins, and being almost in despair, 
 that immediately I felt a marvellous comfort and quietness, inas- 
 much that my bruised bones leaped for joy." 
 
 Filled with thankfulness at his new-found discovery, he must 
 needs share it with others, and, one after another, his friends are 
 won over till a small but zealous band of Protestants is forming at 
 Cambridge. 
 
 But Latimer is there, waging war against the teaching of 
 Philip Melancthon, and Bilney proceeds to catch him by guile. He 
 goes to be confessed by him, with the result that Latimer too gives 
 way before the fervent persuasions of "Little Bilney." And now 
 the two, between whom a warm friendship has sprung up, are to 
 be seen taking their daily walk together on "Heretics' Hill," as 
 
6 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 it was afterwards called in derision, and Latimer is learning to 
 recognize in his frail and spiritual companion the stuff that martyrs 
 are made of. " Master Bilney," he afterwards says, " or rather, Saint 
 Bilney, that suffered death for God's Word's sake, the same Bilney 
 was the instrument whereby God called me to knowledge." 
 
 Among Bilney's devoted friends and converts, Thomas Arthur 
 takes a prominent place. Together they set out to preach in Norfolk 
 and Suffolk, and it was on this preaching tour in 1527 that "Master 
 Lambert, a mass-priest in Norfolk," and afterwards a martyr at 
 Smithfield, was won over to the Protestant faith, and a little later 
 that the memorable sermons were preached in Christchurch and St. 
 George's Chapel, Ipswich. 
 
 Finally after denouncing idolatrous practices in St. Magnus 
 Church, London, Cardinal Wolsey caused the preacher to be 
 apprehended, and he was taken before Tonstal, and arraigned 
 before the Chapter House of Westminster. Every possible means, 
 however, were used to induce Bilney to abjure, and although he 
 remained firm for a considerable time, he at length yielded to the 
 urgent entreaties of his friends. 
 
 There is no more pathetic figure in the whole history of 
 martyrology than that of this saint of God, in mortal conflict with 
 principalities and powers, and the rulers of the darkness of this 
 world. Even when he is worsted in the fight, and abjuring his 
 true convictions, is compelled, as a penance for his past heresy, to 
 bear a faggot on his shoulder, and to stand ignominiously before 
 the whole congregation while a sermon is preached at Paul's Cross, 
 our eyes and hearts follow him, knowing that he is sorrowing most 
 of all because he has betrayed his Master. 
 
 After this, he must languish a whole year in the Tower to 
 learn the lesson of obedience thoroughly, and then again we find 
 him back at Cambridge, to enjoy his liberty once more. But, alas ! 
 it had been too dearly bought, and the next two years see him in 
 such a state of mental agony that he can receive no comfort from 
 his friends. In vain Latimer attempts to console him with comfort 
 
SAINT BILNEY. 7 
 
 able words of Scripture. ** It was as though a man should run him 
 through the heart with a sword." Everything is against him. " The 
 whole Scripture sounded to his condemnation; " and all the time his 
 sensitive human nature shrinks with unutterable dread from the 
 awful consequences that must surely follow if he again dares to 
 confess his dissent from the orthodox teaching. He has borne the 
 faggot on his shoulder, and if it had been flaming, it could not 
 have burnt itself more deeply into his imagination. The horrible 
 image of death is ever before him, and its significance so works 
 upon his mind that his friends are afraid to let him be alone ; and 
 yet, says Latimer, when preaching at Lincoln " afterwards he came 
 again ; God endowed him with such strength and perfectness of 
 faith, that he not only confessed his faith in the Gospel of our 
 Saviour Jesus Christ, but suffered his body to be burned for that 
 same Gospel's sake." 
 
 So on a certain night in 1531, at ten o'clock, Bilney took 
 leave of his friends in Trinity Hall, simply saying, " he would go 
 up to Jerusalem, and so would see them no more." He then 
 proceeded to Norwich, and boldly declared his convictions "till the 
 blind Bishop Nie sent up for a writ to burn him." He was 
 examined before Dr. Pelles, the Chancellor, and condemned, and 
 was handed over to be dealt with by the lay power. 
 
 Of that last memorable night before his martyrdom, which was 
 spent in the Guildhall of Norwich,* sorrounded by sorrowing friends, 
 anxious to strengthen and encourage him, a touching record 
 remains. "With a cheerfull heart and a quiet mind," he partakes 
 of his supper, astonishing them by the calmness of his demeanour. 
 Then they gather round, listening in awed reverence to his Godly 
 conversation, or striving to bridge over the coming ordeal, by 
 putting him in mind that " though the fire which he should suffer 
 the next day should be of great heat to his body, yet the comfort 
 of God's Spirit should cool it to his everlasting refreshing." " At this 
 word," we read, " the said Thomas Bilney, putting his hand towards 
 
 *Thc chamber in which Bihiey was confined may still be seen at Norwich. 
 
8 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 the flame of the candle burning before them (as also he did divers 
 times besides), and feeling- the heat thereof, " O," (said he), " I feel 
 by experience, and have known it long by philosophy, that fire by 
 God's ordinance is naturally hot, but yet I am persuaded by God's 
 Holy Word, and by the experience of some, spoken of in the same, 
 that in the flame they felt no heat, and in the fire they felt no 
 consumption, and I constantly believe that, howsoever the stubble 
 of this my body shall be wasted by it, yet my soul and spirit shall 
 be purged thereby — a pain for the time, whereon notwithstanding 
 followeth joy unspeakable." 
 
 Brave words indeed, uttered as much for the sake of his 
 sorrowing friends as to strengthen his own resolution. And yet 
 as the night wears on, and he is left alone, with " the doctor 
 that lay by him," it is touching to think of him again and 
 again making that painful experiment with the candle, till at 
 last he has dared to hold his finger so long in the flame, 
 that the first joint is burnt, and he is thanking God for the 
 strength given. 
 
 Then said the doctor that lay with him, " What do you, 
 Master Bilney?" he answered, "Nothing, but trying my flesh 
 by God's grace, and burning one joint, when to-morrow^ God's 
 rods shall burn the whole body in the fire." Well done, little 
 Bilney; to-morrow, when you stand, a pathetic, helpless figure, 
 chained to the stake, you will have grace to smile gently on 
 the weeping doctor who comes to bid you farewell ; and when 
 the faggots are heaped about you, and the hungry fire leaps 
 to your face, you will bear it very bravely, only beating on your 
 breast, and crying, ** Jesus," "Credo." 
 
 But at last the pains of death are over, for then the 
 chronicler tells us, " he gave up the Ghost, and his body being 
 withered, bowed downward upon the chain." 
 
 So passed the blessed spirit of Thomas Bilney, saint and 
 martyr, but the malice of his enemies pursued him to the end» 
 and defamed him after death. To snatch the crown of martyrdom 
 
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SAINT BILNEY. 9 
 
 from the head of this dying saint taxed their ingenuity to the 
 utmost ; but at any price it must be done, and it was not 
 difficult to find false witnesses to swear that before the end the 
 trembling lips lent themselves to the reading of a bill of 
 recantation. 
 
 But there were other witnesses present, among them Dr. 
 Warner, whom Bilney had chosen "to be with him for his 
 Ghostly comfort," and he knew nothing of the alleged abjuration. 
 Had it been a fact, what excuse, indeed, could there have been 
 for the burning of an innocent man, who had renounced his 
 errors. 
 
 In the ** Dictionary of National, Biography," Professor Tout 
 has preferred to believe the calumnies of authorities as biassed 
 as Sir Thomas More. We would rather accept the mute but 
 eloquent witness of that well-worn Bible of Bilney' s which is 
 still to be seen in the Library of Corpus Christi College, 
 Cambridge, and read into those underlined and annotated pages 
 the struggle of a soul that passed out of darkness into light, 
 the soul of the man whom Latimer thus described : "I knew a 
 man rhyself, Bilney, little Bilney, that blessed martyr of God 
 . . . who took his death patiently, and died well against 
 the tyrannical see of Rome." 
 
The Story of Agnes Wardall 
 
CU Storp of llanes Waraall 
 
 To say that a man is a constable is, one would suppose, 
 to comprehend his occupation more or less completely, for the 
 duties of the office are sufficiently onerous to leave little time 
 for the following up of other trades. Matthew Butler, however, 
 the constable who was keeping watch on the Cornhill, Ipswich, 
 in the month of July, 1556, is thus described. He was "an 
 apothecary, a curious singing-man, a fine player of the organ, a 
 perfect Papist, and a diligent promoter of good men." How he 
 accomplished this last business the following true story will 
 explain. 
 
 But first we may picture to ourselves the appearance of the 
 Cornhill as Matthew Butler saw it that night. 
 
 To begin with, the preaching cross was still existing — not 
 that beautiful market-cross with which we are familiar in Frost's 
 interesting pictures, but the cross erected by Edmund Daundy 
 in 15 10, which gave place to the other after surviving for 
 118 years. Here it was that the Black Friars preachers held 
 forth to the crowds who assembled for such strangely various 
 reasons on this favourite spot. On the space now occupied by 
 the Post Office, the "Flesh market" or "Shambles" was then to 
 be seen. It had been standing for upwards of 200 years, and 
 must by this time have been in a picturesque, not to say 
 insanitary, condition of disrepair. Twenty-seven years later it 
 was newly built. 
 
14 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 Probably it never even crossed the constable's mind to 
 wonder at the strange composite building, which at that time 
 served as the Town Hall or Mote Hall, as it was then called, 
 for he was so accustomed to its appearance. The ancient 
 Church of St. Mildred had been desecrated to this use, and 
 still did its best to look ecclesiastical, though divided up into 
 stories by the insertion of floors and walls, with its interior 
 ruthlessly re-modelled to suit new requirements. All this and 
 much more that has long since disappeared, Butler saw, as he kept 
 watch on the Cornhill that midsummer night. But, whatever 
 his reveries may have been, they were suddenly disturbed by 
 the appearance of a man approaching him in hot haste. 
 
 This was Dr. Argentine, whose zeal in searching out heretics 
 had already made him notorious. Now he is fairly breathless 
 with excitement, for he has trapped Agnes Wardall, of St. 
 Clement's, who has been in hiding for conscience sake. Her 
 husband, Robert Wardall, a man afflicted with a club foot, has 
 also become a Protestant, and is obliged, notwithstanding hig 
 crippled condition, to hire himself out as a sailor, "yet so it 
 pleased God to enable him with His strength, that he was 
 strong and lusty to do good service, as they can well witness 
 that were of his company." 
 
 Thus, the happy home in Ipswich had been rudely broken 
 up, and Agnes was obliged to leave her two children under 
 the care of a young servant, only occasionally venturing back 
 under cover of night, to see how they fared. 
 
 She had ridden over from her place of retreat on this July 
 evening, and, thinking herself undiscovered, was now peacefully 
 at rest, her mother's heart for a while relieved of its anxiety. 
 But the happiness would be but short-lived. 
 
 Already on the Cornhill companies of men were gathering, 
 and being told off to various stations to watch and prevent any 
 possibility of escape. Some were sent down to St. Clemeijit's 
 to surround the house of Wardall' s mother, which was not far 
 
'St-'" 
 
 From a copy by Hamlet IVatling. 
 
 " THE ANCIENT CHURCH OF ST. MILDRED HAD BEEN DESECRATED TO THIS USE, AND STILL DID 
 ITS BEST TO LOOK ECCLESIASTICAL." 
 
THE STORY OF AGNES WARDALL. 1 5 
 
 from his own, for this good woman was also a fugitive for the 
 Truth's sake. Then, taking with them a number of armed men, 
 Argentine and Butler made their way to Agnes Wardall's house. 
 It was in the open fields, but they beset the house on all sides. 
 Within, slumbering peacefully, aloft in an inner chamber, with 
 her maid and the two children, the weary mother lay unconscious 
 that her enemies were already beating at the door with their 
 weapons. 
 
 It was a lodger, who happened to be there at the time who 
 first heard them, and she seems to have been a woman of some 
 spirit as well as humour. Looking out at a " day-window,'* 
 which was not far from the door, she allowed them to knock 
 three times before her tardy answer came, questioning who was 
 there. " Ah, sirrah," quoth Argentine, " are you so nigh and 
 will not speak ? How fortuned it that ye spake not at the first, 
 being so nigh ? " 
 
 *' How fortuned it ? " quoth the woman ; *' marry, I shall 
 tell you. I am but a stranger here and I have heard say that 
 there be spirits walking here about, which, if a man do answer 
 at the first call or second, he stands in great danger, and I was 
 never so afraid in my life." 
 
 At this the recorder says, " They laughed, and commanded 
 her to open the door in the Queen's name." 
 
 Meanwhile, the little maid within, awakened by the first 
 and second knocking, had much ado to arouse the sleeping 
 dame, although she " shogged " her, crying, " The watch is at 
 the door and hath knocked twice." As soon, however, as she 
 had fairly taken in the meaning of the ominous words, Agnes 
 Wardall, hurriedly clothing herself, ran down to the inner 
 parlour, where was a cupboard "with a fair press," into which 
 the maid locked her. 
 
 And now, as the knocking became more violent, the young 
 servant, looking from a window, held the enemy at bay while she 
 parried their questions. Whether she was to blame for following 
 
1 6 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 the example of the woman of Jericho, who, while the spies were 
 still in hiding on the roof of the house, declared that they had 
 g-one away, it is hardly for us to judge, but, dissatisfied with her 
 answers, the watch threatened to break down the door unless it 
 was immediately opened. Upon this, she at length descended 
 and let in the unwelcome visitors, who proceeded at once to 
 search the house. 
 
 First they entered a parlour on the ground floor, tenanted 
 by a woman and her infant child. In rude haste the men flung 
 themselves into the room, careless to spare the feelings of the 
 startled woman. Hunting the place through they did not forget 
 the possibilities of accommodation which the ample chimney might 
 provide, but peered up into its deep recesses till they were satisfied 
 that it was empty. 
 
 All this time poor Agnes, locked into the press, could hear 
 the gradual advance of their heavy feet as they neared her hiding 
 place. Too well she knew what hung upon her discovery. If 
 found, she had already taken a last farewell of her precious 
 babes, and for herself nothing remained but the terrible prospect 
 of death by burning. She could hear their voices demanding 
 of the woman whether anyone beside herself had laid there 
 that night, and then the door of the inner parlour is burst open, 
 and they are actually in the room with the object of their 
 search. 
 
 Now will God have mercy upon her in this her hour of 
 extremity? The press is very narrow, and the air is becoming 
 exhausted. She is faint from fear and want of breath, and the 
 beating of her heart may almost be heard as one of the 
 company, laying his hand on the cupboard, says, ** This is a 
 fair cupboard, she may be here for anything that is done." To 
 which another answers, " That is true." 
 
 At this, however, marvellous to relate, they left the room, 
 to continue the search elsewhere, and, going upstairs to the 
 chamber in which Agnes and her children had slept, were again 
 
THE STORY OF AGNES WARD ALL. 1 7 
 
 disappointed, and at length descended to the yard. Here they 
 found her horse tethered, and they again questioned the maid, 
 who stoutly refused to give any information. A lad, who was 
 asleep in an outhouse, was suddenly awakened, and catechised as 
 to the whereabouts of his mistress, but neither could they learn 
 anything from him. 
 
 At length, supposing that the poor woman had really left the 
 house, some of the watch proceeded to the neighbour's premises, 
 while others searched the Cornhill, which, with its many irregular 
 buildings and covered ways, would at that time have afforded 
 effectual refuge. While this was going on the maid and the boy 
 were kept in durance. 
 
 Meanwhile, Agnes Wardall, immured in the narrow press, 
 was in danger of suffocation, and cried out to her mother's tenant, 
 who entered the parlour, to let her out as speedily as possible, 
 but first the key had to be found, and then, for her nervous 
 haste, the woman could not turn it in the lock. It seemed to 
 the frightened woman within that to die in such a way would 
 be worse than to have fallen into the hands of her pursurers, and 
 she prayed of the woman to seek for a chisel with which to 
 break open the cupboard. But no chisel was at hand, nor 
 anything else by which the lock might be forced. In this terrible 
 extremity she could only call upon God to deliver her. Then 
 said she, " Essay again to open it, for I trust God will give 
 you power to open it." 
 
 Calmed, perhaps, by her prayer, the woman now turned 
 the key in the lock easily, and, fainting and exhausted and 
 looking as one already dead, Agnes came out of her place of 
 concealment. But she dared not remain in the house, so, passing 
 out into the fields behind the garden, she cowered down in a 
 ditch of nettles, drawing a buckram apron over her head. 
 
 After a while two of the watch, returning from the Cornhill, 
 entered the field, and one of them espying her, but being 
 friendly- disposed in his heart, made a noise with his bill to 
 
1 8 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 warn her to remain still. Presently they left the field, and the 
 search at last being given up, the maid and the young lad were 
 released. On the morrow her kind protector, George Manning 
 by name, sent word, advising Agnes Wardall not to remain any 
 longer so near the house. 
 
 How she managed to conceal herself for the following two 
 years we are not told, but on the death of Queen Mary, she 
 could safely and happily return to her home in Ipswich, and that 
 she did so is probable, as it is incidentally mentioned that her 
 mother's tenant was with her at her death long afterwards, 
 during the reign of Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 In an old graveyard in St. Clement's the dust of Agnes 
 Wardwall probably sleeps. We should like to know the spot 
 and to honour it as the resting-place of one who preferred 
 enduring hardness with the people of God to living in ease and 
 comfort at the sacrifice of conscience.* 
 
 The history of Argentine was strangely chequered. He was 
 alternately Papist and Protestant, according to the tenets of the 
 monarch, who happened to be reigning at the time. From usher 
 at the Ipswich Grammar School, in Henry VIIFs reign, he advanced 
 to the position of master. Afterwards he showed his loyalty to 
 Queen Mary, by painting the posts of the town with "Vivat Regina 
 Maria," and was made priest, finally shewing himself again a 
 "perfect Protestant," when the accession of Queen Elizabeth made 
 this change advisable. 
 
 Over four hundred years have passed away since he and 
 Matthew Butler met on the Cornhill on that eventful night. The 
 old Cross has gone with that other that succeeded it. The Shambles, 
 followed by the less substantial Rotunda, and afterwards by the old 
 Corn Exchange, have long since disappeared, and St. Mildred's 
 Church, the old Mote Hall, survives only in pictures. 
 
 There is no pillory now in which wretched victims stand to 
 
 •A Copy of the Will of Robert Wardall, sen., father-in-law of Agnes, has been found and copied 
 for me by Mr. Redstone, Secretary of the Suffolk Archa;ological Society, It is dated 1554. 
 
THE STORY OF AGNES WARDALL. 1 9 
 
 endure the insults of an unfeeling mob, and the cruel stocks are 
 harmless objects of curosity in the Museum. A Constable, less 
 sanguinary be it hoped, if not less alert watches on the Cornhill 
 o' nights, and probably finds the Post Office and Town Hall 
 picturesque enough for him. Down in St. Clement's the people 
 sleep peacefully in their beds, for liberty of conscience is enjoyed, 
 and it is no longer a crime to possess a Bible. 
 
 Pray God the reign of peace may continue, and charity be the 
 watchword of every member of Christ's Church here upon earth. 
 
The Miraculous Rood of Dovercourt. 
 
Cbe miraculous Rooa of Dooercourt. 
 
 On a certain night in the year 1532, three men of Dedham 
 left their homes for a mid-night walk to Dovercourt. It was clear 
 and frosty, so records tell us, and the moon rode high in the 
 heavens. The names of the men were, respectively, Robert King, 
 Nicholas Marsh, and Robert Gardener. 
 
 Presently they were joined by one, Robert Debnam, of East 
 Bergholt, and together they started to cover the distance of ten 
 miles, as fast as eager feet could carry them. 
 
 Six months later three dead men hung on the gibbets — one 
 at Burchet in Dedham, one at Cataway-Cawsey, and one at 
 Dovercourt ; and the names of the three men were Robert King, 
 Robert Debnam, and Nicholas Marsh, the fourth was in hiding. 
 There is no story of sordid crime, however, connected with their 
 memories. They were godly peasants, who had listened to the 
 preaching of Thomas Rose, of Hadley, and were about to put 
 into practice the lessons they had learned. 
 
 Perhaps it was time that some check should be given to the 
 growing credulity of the people, and to the deceptions being 
 practised upon them, for so sunk in superstition had they become, 
 that no fable was too unreal to be believed, and no trickery too 
 transparent to delude them. If images had at first been introduced 
 into the worship of the sanctuary, to assist the mind to a 
 spiritual realisation of the unseen world, they were at this time 
 in very deed actually worshipped, and the unlearned and ignorant 
 were encouraged to believe in their miraculous powers. 
 
24 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 One of the most flagrant instances of the kind was the 
 famous rood at Boxley, in Kent, '* which used to smile and 
 bow, or frown and shake its head, as its worshippers were 
 generous or close-handed." Then there was Our Lady of 
 Walsingham, Our Lady of Wilsdon, and Our Lady of Ipswich, 
 all three of which were afterwards specially held up as warnings 
 to the idolatrous in the fourteenth Church Homily. But hardly 
 less famous than any of these was the wonderful rood at All 
 Saints' Church, Dovercourt. To this ancient 12th century edifice, 
 which is still standing, pilgrims from all quarters made their 
 way, anxious to propitiate an image possessed of such marvellous 
 powers as those with which it was accredited. 
 
 Day and night the door of the Church stood open, for no 
 one dared to close it, because they, "verily believed none, 
 without great danger (even of sudden death) to themselves, 
 might attempt to shut the Church doors upon it." 
 
 But the men of Dedham and East Bergholt were not afraid. 
 Together with many others of those early Protestants, they had 
 lost faith in the pretended virtues of images which were the 
 work of their own fingers. Of such David had declared, " they 
 have hands, but they handle not, feet have they but they walk 
 not." 
 
 If indeed, the rood at Dovercourt were strong enough to 
 hold the church door open, or visit with sudden death any who 
 attempted to close it, then surely it could at least defend itself 
 from destruction. But this they would prove, and prove it not 
 only for themselves, but for the lasting enlightenment of all who 
 now resorted to it in worship. 
 
 Their hearts beat fast as they entered Dovercourt that night. 
 It was not in a mere spirit of adventure that the journey was 
 made, but because we are told, their " consciences, were sore 
 burdened to see the honour and power of the Almighty God 
 so to be blasphemed by such an idol." There was too much 
 at stake to allow of so dangerous an enterprise being undertaken 
 
THE MIRACULOUS ROOD OF DOVERCOURT. 25 
 
 lightly. All around them death was being dealt out as the sure 
 reward of heresy. At Colchester, martyrs were being gathered 
 in thick as sheaves of corn. At Norwich and Ipswich the same 
 story was repeated, and many a neighbouring village added some 
 humble saint to the lengthening roll of the " noble army." 
 
 So it was with their lives in their hands that these four 
 men at last approached the porch of All Saints' Church on 
 that eventful night. The door stood open as usual, and it must 
 have been with feelings akin to awe that they entered the 
 building, and peered into the dimly lighted interior. 
 
 Superstition dies hard, especially in the minds of simple 
 country folk, and to cross the fatal threshold required no common 
 courage. Before them looming large and dreadful in the ghostly 
 light, was the image which superstition had degraded into an 
 idol, and this they had come to remove. 
 
 How this was accomplished, we are not told; we only know 
 that, besides the rood, *' there was nothing taken away from 
 the Church but his coat, his shoes, and the tapers." So, with 
 this strange burden upon their shoulders, the men passed out 
 of the door, carrying it ** about a quarter of a mile thence, as 
 far as the green," where " they struck fire with a flintstone," 
 and set it alight, with the aid of the tapers. 
 
 We can picture the consternation of the inhabitants of 
 Dovercourt, when it was discovered what had happened, for now 
 "the hope of their gains was gone," and it would soon be 
 noised abroad that the wonder-working image was but another 
 pitiful device to play upon the credulity of the people. 
 
 To find and punish the perpetrators of the deed was the 
 first thing to be done, and a diligent search was accordingly 
 made. Suspicion naturally fell upon Thomas Rose, who, at the 
 great risk of his own freedom, never shrank from " inveighing 
 vehemently against images"; but no proofs could be found that 
 he had instigated the action. 
 
 When, at last, three of the men were tracked out and 
 
26 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 apprehended, they were promised their lives on one condition 
 namely, that they would accuse Rose of being confederate with 
 them, but this they steadfastly refused to do. The first 
 excitement of the daring deed being now over, nothing remained 
 to them but to face the death of felons, yet these heroic souls 
 never faltered. They had done what they conceived to be their 
 duty to God and to their fellows, and would not be tempted to 
 transfer their own responsibility to another. 
 
 And so the end came, and in three different spots the 
 people assembled to see how these men would conduct themselves 
 in that last great trial of their courage, and this is the record 
 left of them; "which three persons, through the Spirit of God, 
 at their death, did more edify the people in godly learning, than all 
 the sermons that had been preached there a long time before." 
 
 Thomas Rose must have been deeply touched by their 
 devotion, for we find him afterwards almost courting identification 
 with the sufferers, by sending for *' the coat" that had belonged 
 to the rood, and burning it himself. He was, thereupon, charged 
 with being " privy of the burning of the rood of Dovercourt," 
 and committed to prison in the Bishop of Lincoln's House in 
 Holburn. " The stocks were very high and great, so that day 
 and night he did lie with his back on the ground, upon a little 
 straw, with his heels so high, that by this means the blood was 
 fallen from his feet; his feet were almost without sense for a long 
 time ; and he herewith waxed very sick, insomuch that his keeper, 
 pitying his estate, and hearing him cry sometimes, through the 
 extremity of pain, went to the Bishop, and told him he would 
 not keep him to die under his hand ; and upon this he had 
 more ease and liberty." 
 
 To recount all the vicissitude through which this minister of 
 Hadley passed, would be to fill a volume, and though by the 
 death of Queen Mary he finally escaped with his life, it was 
 through much tribulation, and after having been driven hither and 
 thither, destitute, afflicted and tormented. 
 
THE MIRACULOUS ROOD OF DOVERCOURT. 
 
 27 
 
 Before criticising the actions of the pioneers of religious 
 liberty, it is necessary to have a sympathetic acquaintance with the 
 conditions of the times in which they lived. 
 
 It was Froude, the historian, who, commenting upon the fate 
 of these very Suffolk peasants, said : " Men who dare to be first 
 in great movements are ever self-immolated victims. But," he adds, 
 " I suppose that it were better for them to be bleaching on the 
 gibbets than crawling at the feet of a wooden rood, and believing 
 it to be God." 
 
A Bill on Ipswich Town Hall 
 
n Bill on lp$u)icl) Cown r>alK 
 
 The Cornhill was not so brilliantly lighted up at night in 1546 
 as it is now, otherwise someone who was stealthily making his 
 way to the door of the old Town Hall on the Friday night 
 before Gang Monday would have been discovered, and his object 
 frustrated. Creeping along unobserved, he reached the place, and 
 proceeded to nail up a bill which would astonish the people of 
 Ipswich by its audacity on the following morning. This was the 
 wording of it : — 
 
 " Juste judicata filii hominum : Yet, when ye shall judge, minister your 
 justice with mercy. 
 
 •* A fearful thing it is to fall into the hands of the living God : Be ye 
 learned, therefore, in true knowledge, ye that judge the earth, lest the Lord 
 be angry with you. 
 
 "The blood of the righteous shall be required at your hands. What 
 though the veil hanged before Moses' face, yet at Christ's death it fell 
 down. 
 
 " The stones will speak if these should hold their peace : Therefore 
 harden not your hearts against the verity. For fearfully shall the Lord 
 appear in the day of vengeance to the troubled in conscience. No excuse 
 shall then be of ignorance. Therefore, have remorse in your conscience ; 
 fear Him that may kill both body and soul. 
 
 " Beware of innocent blood-shedding ; take heed of justice ignorantly 
 administered ; work discreetly as the Scripture doth command ; look to it 
 that ye make not the truth to be forsaken. 
 
 "We beseech God to save our King, King Henry the Eighth, that he 
 be not led into temptation. So be it." 
 
 As soon as the bill was discovered in the morning it was 
 taken down, and brought to Lord Wentworth, whose business it 
 was on that day to judge the cause of two men, Kerby and 
 Roger, both of whom stood accused of not accepting the doctrine 
 
32 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 of transubstantiation as set forth in the terrible Act of the Six 
 Articles. It was not altogether a good preparation for the stern 
 work that he had in hand and his answer that " the bill was 
 good council," seems to show that his heart was hardly in the 
 task. 
 
 Meanwhile in the Westgate Gaol the two prisoners were 
 awaiting their trial. The friendly gaoler, Bird, was, we may be 
 sure, doing his best to encourage them, for he himself had already 
 narrowly escaped a similar fate, and later on would suffer a like 
 accusation at the hands of the Commissioners. 
 
 In days when the sacredness of life was of so little account, 
 and when mercy was a rare quality, it is refreshing to come upon 
 even a hint of compassion from those in power towards the 
 sufferers, and we welcome every sign of it. Young Robert 
 Wingfield and Master Breuss, of Wenham, showed a gracious 
 gentleness of character when they visited Kerby in the gaol, and 
 did their best to save him from his fate. 
 
 ''Remember," said Master Wingfield, "The fire is hot; take 
 heed of thine enterprise, that thou take no more upon thee than 
 thou shalt be able to perform. The terror is great, the pain will 
 be extreme ; and life is sweet. Better it were betimes to stick 
 to mercy, while there is hope of life, than rashly to begin, and 
 then to shrink." 
 
 To whom Kerby made answer: — *' Oh, Master Wingfield, be 
 at my burning, and you shall say, 'There standeth a Christian 
 soldier in the fire.' For I know that fire and water and sword 
 and all other things, are in the hands of God, and he will suffer 
 no more to be laid upon us, than he will give us strength to 
 bear." 
 
 There is something very touching in the final words of the 
 young heir of Humphrey Wingfield. 
 
 "Ah, Kerby!" said he, "if thou be at that point, I will 
 bid thee farewell, for I promise thee I am not so strong that I 
 am able to burn." 
 
A BILL ON IPSWICH TOWN HALL. 33 
 
 We hear in them that sensitiveness to human pain which 
 makes the sufferings of another a real mental experience to the 
 one who sympathises, and we can almost see the expression of 
 pained compassion on the face of the young man as he turns 
 away, after grasping the prisoner's hand in farewell, and promising 
 to "pray for him." 
 
 The day soon arrived when judgment was to be passed upon 
 the offenders. The Justices were assembled in the Town Hall, 
 and next but one to Lord Wentworth sat the Commissary. All 
 eyes were now turned on the prisoners, who prepared themselves 
 for the ordeal through which they were to pass by ** making 
 their prayers secretly to God for a space of time," with eyes 
 and hands lifted up to heaven. 
 
 Then the articles were read to them, but they could not 
 even assent to the first. In it on pain of *' death by burning, 
 without any abjuration, benefit of the clergy, or sanctuary," they 
 were to accept the declaration that *' after the consecration there 
 is present really the natural body and blood of our Saviour 
 Jesus Christ, conceived of the Virgin Mary and that after the 
 said consecration there remaineth no substance of bread and wine," 
 etc. 
 
 To this they both replied that "they did not so believe," and 
 '* that there was neither flesh nor blood to be eaten with the 
 teeth, but bread and wine ; and yet more than bread and wine, 
 for that it is consecrated to a holy use." 
 
 Foster, the justice who lived at Copdock, on the London 
 Road, was one of their sorest adversaries at this time. He it 
 was who was afterwards instrumental in bringing both Rowland 
 Taylor and Robert Samuel to their death, and we find him 
 throughout the history of these times a zealous, though ignorant, 
 servant of the Bishops then in power. 
 
 Still it fell to Lord Wentworth to pronounce the final judgment 
 upon the men, and the whole of his conduct at this time, as 
 afterwards, was suggestive of an inward remorse that he could 
 
34 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 Ill conceal. Perhaps the words of the bill, which had been posted 
 on the Town Hall, came to his memory, and especially the warning, 
 '* Beware of innocent blood-shedding." At any rate, after he 
 had pronounced the cruel sentence of death something appeared 
 to be troubling his mind. 
 
 Doubtless the behaviour of Kerby was touching to witness. 
 Holding up his hands, and bowing himself devoutly with most 
 humble reverence, he merely ejaculated : *' Praised be Almighty 
 God," and then there followed a profound silence, for he stood 
 still " without any more words." 
 
 Perhaps to relieve the tension of feeling, or to hide his own 
 emotion, the judge leant behind one of his companions and 
 addressed some remarks in a whisper to another. This was 
 noticed by Roger, who challenged him to say it openly if anything 
 was on his conscience, but *' somewhat flushing and changing his 
 countenance," Lord Wentworth answered, *' I did speak nothing 
 of you, nor have I done anything unto you but as the 
 law is." 
 
 And so the sentence stood, that Kerby was to be burned 
 in Ipswich on the following Saturday, and Roger at Bury on 
 the Gang Monday after. 
 
 A great crowd collected on the Cornhill or Market Place, 
 as it was called, to witness the spectacle, not so common then 
 as It was to become afterwards. About two thousand people had 
 assembled, and in the gallery of the "Shambles" a large 
 company, including most of the neighbouring justices, were to 
 be seen. 
 
 The upper part of this building had evidently been constructed 
 with a view to affording accommodation for sight-seers, and from 
 this convenient grand stand privileged people could at their ease 
 witness the various entertainments provided for them on the 
 Cornhill. Now It would be a bull -baiting, for no animal was to 
 
A BILL ON IPSWICH TOWN HALL. 35 
 
 be slaughtered for food without it had been baited for an hour 
 on this arena ; or again, some unfortunate trespasser, either 
 man or woman, must be tied to a cart-tail and whipped round 
 the town, as much apparently for the base amusement of the 
 onlookers as for the profit of the wretched victims. 
 
 Altogether there were stirring scenes in Ipswich in '* those 
 good old times" which kept the population in a continual state of 
 excitement, albeit of no very healthy order. But nothing so 
 stimulated the imagination, or aroused such a variety of emotions, 
 as when some human sacrifice was about to be made. Among those 
 who thronged to witness the dying agonies of these martyrs for 
 the faith, there were some who were moved as much by pity 
 as curiosity, but with many a bigoted religious hatred could only 
 be satisfied by the death of the offender. 
 
 Soon all is in readiness, from every window eager faces are 
 peering out, and not a coign of vantage anywhere has been 
 overlooked. In the midst is a stake fixed to the ground, and 
 around it wood, broom and straw are heaped. 
 
 The prisoner Kerby has just arrived, and is being fastened 
 with irons so that there may be no escape, and now for a 
 moment the eyes of the multitude are turned towards the gallery 
 of the *' Shambles." There stands Dr. Rugham, formerly a monk 
 of Bury, in surplice and stole, and when he begins to speak 
 a silence falls on the crowd, and every ear is strained to catch 
 the words that fall rather haltingly from his lips. He takes his 
 sermon from the 6th chapter of St. John, not without occasional 
 interruption from Kerby, who, according to his statements, tells 
 the people either to "believe him," or again, that what he is 
 saying "is not true." 
 
 Thus by degrees the tide turns against the monk, and he 
 cannot help feeling that the sympathy of the onlookers is with 
 the man at the stake. This is not altogether a comfortable 
 position to be in, so with a last effort to justify the proceedings, 
 the monk calls upon the prisoner once more to declare before 
 
36 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 the people his belief with regard to the sacrament of the Mass. 
 Without hesitation Kerby answers as before, after which the 
 Under- Sheriff asks — 
 
 "Hast thou anything more to say?" 
 
 "Yea, sir, if you will give me leave," is the answer. 
 
 To which the Sheriff replies, " Say on." 
 
 The final act in the tragedy is now approaching. A hush 
 of breathless attention sweeps over the crowd. They must not 
 lose a word of this last confession, or a single thrill of emotion 
 that may be communicated from the lips of the man who is 
 about to die. Will there be a struggle, after all, to save the 
 life that is so precious to every human being ? As he feels the 
 check of the iron chain that holds him to the stake, will a 
 sudden agonised longing for liberty make him falter ? 
 
 Here are thousands of spectators drawing the breath of life 
 freely, and but vaguely sensible of the value of the possession 
 which is theirs, and here in the midst is the one victim who 
 is to resign life with all its sweetness. For another minute he 
 will stand before them, a sentient human being, heir of all the 
 universe ; presently a few poor ashes will be stirred by the wind, 
 and pass away. " Then Kerby, taking his cap from his head, 
 put it under his arm as though it should have done him service 
 again ; but, remembering himself, he cast it from him, and 
 lifting up his arms he said the hymn, " Te Deum," and the 
 Belief, with other prayers in the English tongue." At this point 
 Lord Wentworth, who had manfully struggled with his gentler 
 feelings, was completely overcome. Shrouding himself behind 
 one of the posts of the gallery, as though ashamed of his 
 weakness, the judge wept, and at the sight tears sprang into 
 the eyes of many of the beholders. 
 
 And well might the judge weep. To him it had fallen to 
 pronounce the words of doom, and now he must perforce be a 
 witness of the last agonies of a man whose whole demeanour 
 stamped him as a true sufferer for : conscience sake. 
 
^ 
 
 A BILL ON IPSWICH TOWN HALL. 37 
 
 If only, when this final opportunity of speech was given 
 him, the victim had broken out in violent invective or hurled 
 bitter reproaches at his accusers, it would have been easier to 
 have borne it unmoved, but there was something infinitely pathetic 
 in the sudden outburst of praise and prayer to God. In this 
 supreme moment it was evident that the soul of the martyr was 
 lifted above his surroundings, and he was conscious only of the 
 presence of the just and Almighty Judge of all the earth, 
 before whom he was shortly to appear. His rapt spirit exulted 
 in the contemplation. This was no longer the gate of death, 
 but the door of Heaven. With a hymn on his lips, he must 
 enter into the Holy City ; and so, with hands uplifted, oblivious 
 of the curious eyes of the bystanders, he breaks forth, in the 
 words of the service with which he is so familiar — 
 
 We praise Thee, O God, we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord. 
 All the earth doth worship Thee, the Father everlasting. 
 To Thee all angels cry aloud, 
 The Heavens and all the powers therein. 
 To Thee Cherubim and Seraphim continually do cry ; 
 Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of SalDbaoth, 
 Heaven and earth are full of the majesty of Thy glory. 
 The glorious Company of the Apostles praise Thee. 
 t^ The goodly fellowship of the prophets praise Thee. 
 The noble aripy of martyrs praise Thee. 
 
 — And SO he continues, until the last verse of the hymn sums 
 up his faith in the beautiful words, " O Lord, in Thee have I 
 trusted ; let me' never be confounded." 
 
 But the fire takes time to kindle, and once more he is 
 profoundly and humanly conscious that the end is approaching, 
 and that he is but an unworthy sinner, about to pass into the 
 resence of his Maker. 
 
 With a loud cry to God, which must have pierced the very 
 heart of the remorseful judge, he beats on his breast, like the 
 publican of old, and in this attitude of becoming humility 
 continues "so long as his remembrance would serve." Then the 
 flames kindle upon him, and his dry lips refuse any longer to 
 
38 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 give utterance, and in a chariot of fire his soul passes into the 
 unseen world. 
 
 But the heart of that great throng of people gathered on 
 the Cornhill has been beating in sympathy with the heart of the 
 sufferer, and when the fire has done its worst a great shout of 
 admiration goes up from them, and they bless and praise God 
 for giving such constancy to one "so simple and so unlettered." 
 
 From the gallery of the Shambles a crowd of fashionable 
 spectators are descending, and among them we seem to watch 
 the sensitive countenance of the Lord Wentworth struggling to 
 maintain a callous demeanour, while his conscience sorely 
 reproaches him for this day's work. Truly, he has done nothing 
 to the man but "as the law is," but is there not yet another 
 law, and another Monarch, to whom he must answer for the 
 deed ? Whether any such thoughts passed through the mind 
 of the judge we cannot certainly tell, but we may, in charity, 
 hope that those tears of his were not wasted that were shed 
 for poor Kerby on the Ipswich Cornhill. 
 
The Hero of Hadleigh. 
 
CDe Rero of Badleigl)* 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was the Tuesday after Palm Monday, early in the reign of 
 Queen Mary, when the bells of Hadleigh* Church rang to service. 
 From his chamber,t where he sat " studying the Word of God," 
 Rowland Taylor, the *' parson," arose in haste, and came to 
 the Church, to find the doors shut and barred. 
 
 Only by the chancel door could he gain admission, and the 
 sight which then met his eyes filled him with indignation. 
 Before a newly-erected altar stood a stranger priest, John Averth, 
 of Aldham, about to celebrate Mass, and around him armed 
 men were placed, with swords ready drawn to prevent any 
 interference. There, too, was Foster, of Copdock, who is described 
 as "a steward and keeper of the courts," and whose name is 
 familiar in connection with many a Suffolk martyr. 
 
 We know enough of the character of the celebrated minister 
 of Hadleigh to anticipate the scene which followed. A bold and 
 fearless man, zealous for the truth, and deeply imbued with the 
 teaching of Thomas Bilney, he could not stand meekly by and 
 witness the re-introduction of the Mass into the Church for which 
 he held himself responsible. Burning with righteous anger, Dr. 
 Taylor denounced the rite as "profane and abominable idolatry," 
 and challenged the priest to show what right he had to usurp 
 the place of the appointed shepherd of the flock. 
 
 ♦Formerly spelt Hadley. 
 fDr. Taylor's study may still be seen at the Deanery, Hadleigh. 
 
42 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 Upon this Foster started up with an '* ireful and furious 
 countenance," crying out, '* Thou traitor, what dost thou here, 
 to let and disturb the Queen's proceeding?" 
 
 A heated altercation now ensued, and the solemn silence of 
 the fine old church was broken by the sound of angry voices. 
 For a moment the priest of Aldham hesitated to proceed as 
 Dr. Taylor warned him that by the Canon Law, no Mass could 
 be said "but at a consecrated altar," but John Clark, of Hadleigh, 
 was equal to the occasion. 
 
 "Master Averth," he said, "be not afraid, you have a 
 ' super-altare.' Go forth with your business, man." 
 
 Dr. Taylor's wife, who had followed her husband into the 
 church, now saw the armed men close around him, and he was 
 led with strong hands out of the church, " and thrust violently 
 from the door." 
 
 It needed no prophetic sense to recognise in this proceeding 
 the beginning of the end. Kneeling upon the floor, this poor 
 woman cried with a loud voice, " I beseech Thee, God, the 
 righteous Judge, to avenge this injury .... to the blood of 
 Christ." They then thrust her out of the church also, and shut 
 the doors; "for they feared that the people would have rent 
 their sacrificer in pieces." 
 
 We can hardly wonder at the strong feeling of resentment 
 experienced by the inhabitants of the town who witnessed the 
 treatment to which their beloved minister was subject, for Dr. Taylor 
 had, indeed, been a very father in God to his people. Ever ready 
 to help the needy and afflicted, he gave liberally of his substance to 
 the poor, and his generous heart overflowed with sympathy. 
 
 Moreover, he was a singularly gifted man, being " a Doctor, 
 both in Civil and Canon laws," and a scholar and divine of no 
 mean reputation. To his private virtues his biographer bears 
 eloquent testimony. "Not only was his word a preaching, but 
 all his life and conversation was an example of unfeigned 
 Christian life and true holiness. 
 
THE HERO OF HADLEIGH. 43 
 
 " He was void of all pride, humble, and meek as a child, so 
 that none were so poor but they might boldly, as unto their 
 Father, resort unto him ; neither was his lowliness childish or 
 fearful, but as occasion, time and place required, he would be 
 stout in rebuking the sinful and evil-doers ; so that none were 
 so rich, but he would tell him plainly his fault, with such earnest 
 and grave rebukes as became a good curate and pastor. 
 
 "He was a man very mild, void of all rancour, grudge or 
 evil will, ready to do good to all men, readily forgiving his 
 enemies, and never sought to do evil to any." To all this was 
 added a sense of humour, which did not forsake him even 
 when he was nearing the last act in his life's drama. It was 
 no wonder that the people loved their genial minister, and showed 
 their appreciation of his earnest labours among them. 
 
 Perhaps in no other town was the Bible studied so diligently 
 and intelligently as it was in Hadleigh ' at this time. It is said 
 that many a man might have been found who "had often read 
 the whole Bible through, and could have said a great sort of 
 St. Paul's epistles by heart." Whole households were carefully 
 trained in this way, and taught to be able to give a reason for 
 the faith that was in them. To Hadleigh also belongs the 
 distinction of having been one of the very first towns in all 
 England to have accepted the Protestant religion. 
 
 Very peacefully the days passed there while young Edward 
 reigned, but hardly had the passing bell told of his soul's 
 release before there was a stirring among the Roman Catholics, 
 and ominous signs that perilous days were at hand. 
 
 Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, was only one of 
 many whose consciences troubled them but little when a new 
 oath to a new Monarch suddenly transformed Protestants into 
 Catholics or vice versa. Now, when a complaint was made to 
 him of Dr. Taylor's adherence to the reformed religion, the man 
 who had alternately sworn allegiance to Henry VIII. and 
 Edward VI. was as ready, and perhaps with more fidelity, to 
 
44 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 serve the interests of the Catholic Queen Mary. Dr. Taylor was 
 commanded to appear before him within certain days. 
 
 At this his friends were filled with anxiety and grief, and 
 many besought him to fly. The Chancellor, they urged, was 
 fierce and cruel, and nothing would await him but imprisonment 
 and cruel death. But all their efforts were unavailing. *' Dear 
 friends," he said, " I most heartily thank you for that you have 
 so tender a care over me. And although I know that there is 
 neither justice nor truth to be looked for at my adversaries' 
 hands, but rather imprisonment and cruel death, yet I know my 
 cause to be so good and righteous, and the truth so strong 
 upon my side, that I will, by God's grace, go and appear before 
 them, and to their beards resist their false doing." 
 
 Still they continued to urge him with arguments that to a 
 weaker man would have been a sore temptation. " We think," 
 they said, " that in fleeing at this time ye should do best, keeping 
 yourself against another time, when the Church shall have great 
 need of such diligent teachers and godly pastors." But, like 
 the aged Paul of old on his journey to Jerusalem, where stripes 
 and imprisonment awaited him, Rowland Taylor gently persisted 
 in the course he had chosen, and so with weeping eyes they 
 commended him unto God, and within a few days the journey 
 to London was taken. 
 
 Our minds conjure up the farewell scene with wistful 
 tenderness. From the picturesque old Rectory House, with its 
 splendid battlemented tower, the venerable figure passes, 
 accompanied by his faithful servant, John Hull. Now, without 
 let or hindrance the people may gaze on the countenance they 
 love, but almost for the last time, for when next they flock 
 into the streets of Hadleigh to see Dr. Taylor on his way to 
 execution, his face will be concealed in a close hood, '* with two 
 holes for his eyes to look out at, and a slit for his mouth to 
 breathe out." 
 
 It would be tedious to dwell at any length upon his 
 
From a sketch by Hamlet Watltng. 
 
 "FROM THE PICTURES'^UE OLD RECTORY HOUSE, WITH ITS SPLENDIIJ BATTLEM ENTED TOWER, THE 
 
 VENERABLE FIGURE PASSES." 
 
THE HERO OF HADLEIGH. 45 
 
 examination, for in a large majority of cases the same formula 
 of accusation against the clergy was employed. He defended 
 the marriages of priests, and denied transubstantiation and the 
 supremacy of the Pope. 
 
 For a long time he lay a prisoner in the King's Bench, but 
 even here he found reason to thank God for His mercy. He 
 occupied his time in prayer, reading the Scriptures, and preaching 
 to his fellow-prisoners. Among them, to his great consolation, 
 he found " Master Bradford, a devout and virtuous preacher," 
 and so ** they both together lauded God, and continued in prayer, 
 reading and exhorting one the other, insomuch that Dr. Taylor 
 told his friends that came to visit him that God had most 
 graciously provided for him, to send him to that prison, where 
 he found such an angel of God, to be in his company to 
 comfort him." 
 
 At length he was cited to appear before the Lord Chancellor 
 and other commissioners. The particulars of this examination are 
 preserved in letters of Dr. Taylor's to friends, describing minutely 
 all that he could remember of the interviews. His defence is 
 full of spirit, courage, and learning. Yet again a fourth time 
 he was brought before the Bishops of Winchester, Norwich, 
 London, Salisbury, and Durham, when a final and determinate 
 answer was required before sentence should be given. Bradford 
 and Saunders were with him, and not one of the three flinched. 
 When the Bishops saw that they were immovable, they no longer 
 delayed, and sentence of death was passed. This was the signal 
 for an outburst of praise as *' they most joyfully gave thanks 
 to God." 
 
 Dr. Taylor was then conveyed to the " Clink," and the 
 keepers had instructions ''straitly to keep him." From the 
 "Clink" he was removed before night to the ''Compter," and 
 there remained for about a week. 
 
 The story of the degradation by Bonner is characteristic of 
 both the men. It was the custom in degrading a priest from 
 
46 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 his office to clothe him in the vestments used during the celebration 
 of the Mass, and then to strip them from him. 
 
 For this purpose Bonner visited him, and he was brought 
 from his prison to another chamber in the same building. One 
 more chance was given him of revoking his decision, but with 
 no effect, and the Bishop then proceeded with his task. 
 
 *' Well," quoth he, " I am come to degrade you, wherefore 
 put on these vestments." 
 
 "No!" quoth Dr. Taylor, ** I will not!" 
 
 "Wilt thou not?" said the Bishop. "I shall make thee 
 ere I go." 
 
 Quoth Dr. Taylor, "You shall not, by the grace of God." 
 
 After charging him upon his obedience to do as he was 
 commanded, and still being met with firm refusal, the Bishop 
 caused another to array him in the vestures and ornaments of 
 the Mass. To this he submitted, and then setting his hands to 
 his sides and walking up and down, he said " How say you 
 my Lord, am not I a goodly fool ? " and turning to the rest 
 he said " How say you my masters ? If I were in Cheap should 
 I not have boys enough to laugh at these apish toys and toying 
 trumpery? " 
 
 It now remained for the Bishop to strike him on the breast 
 with his crosier while he uttered the curse upon him, but his 
 chaplain, eyeing the stalwart form of the goodly veteran, hastily 
 interfered, saying " My Lord ! strike him not, for he will sure 
 strike again." 
 
 Even at this critical moment, the humour of the position 
 struck Dr. Taylor. For a minute at least Bonner, who was a 
 terror to all Protestants, was at his mercy, and was frightened 
 of his prisoner. He could not refrain from acting on the 
 Chaplain's suggestion, "Yea, by St. Peter will I," quoth he. 
 " The cause is Christ's, and I were no good Christian if I 
 would not fight in my Master's quarrel." ^ 
 
 Afterwards, when he came up to his chamber, where Bradford 
 
THE HERO OF HADLKIGH. 47 
 
 also lay, he told him how he had made the Bishop of London 
 afraid, ** for," saith he laughingly, "his Chaplain gave him 
 counsel not to strike me with his crosier-staff, for that I would 
 strike again ; and by my troth," said he, rubbing his hands, 
 " I made him believe I would do so indeed." 
 
 So the Bishop cursed him, but struck him not, upon which 
 Dr. Taylor said, " Though you do curse me, yet God doth 
 bless me. I have the witness of my conscience that ye have 
 done me wrong and violence, and yet I pray God, if it be His 
 will, to forgive you." 
 
 After this came his wife, his son, and his faithful servant, 
 John Hull, to sup with him, and with weeping eyes they prayed 
 together and kissed one another. Then, as a parting present 
 to his wife, he gave her a book of the Church Service, set out 
 by King Edward, which he had daily used during his imprisonment. 
 To his son Thomas he gave a Latin book '* containing the 
 notable sayings of the old martyrs," and in the end of the book 
 wrote his will and testament. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 February is not a month in which one would choose to spend a 
 night in a church porch, and yet, in the year 1555, a woman 
 and two children might have been seen at St. Botolph's Church, 
 Aldgate, waiting till two o'clock in the morning on the chance 
 of catching a glimpse of someone who was to pass that way. 
 
 Dr. Taylor's wife and his daughter Mary, with their adopted 
 child Elizabeth, an orphan on whom the minister had taken pity, 
 were watching in case he should be led to the Woolsack, an 
 inn near by, on his way through Essex to Suffolk. It was a 
 very dark morning, and impossible to see the passers-by, but 
 presently, at a cry from Elizabeth, Mrs. Taylor recognised her 
 husband, in company with the sheriff. She called him by name, 
 and the Sheriff, touched by the sound of her voice, bade his 
 man *' stay a little that he might speak to his wife." 
 
 It was only a minute snatched by the way, but Dr. Taylor's 
 first impulse, after taking his daughter Mary in his arms, was 
 to kneel down, that they might pray together to the God in 
 whose hands were their destinies ; and the Sheriff turned away 
 to hide his emotion, as the simple words of the Lord's Prayer 
 were uttered. Then followed the last solemn farewell. Full of 
 strength and comfort in his soul. Dr. Taylor gently sought to 
 comfort his wife, and blessing his daughter Mary, prayed that 
 God would make her His servant. 
 
 Then the procession passed on its way, but the faithful wife 
 kept pace with it, and even managed to gain the chamber in 
 which her husband was to be kept *' with four yeomen of the 
 guard and the Sheriff's men." 
 
50 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 Deeply as he pitied the poor woman, the Sheriff could not 
 permit her to remain, and she was finally conducted to her 
 mother's house, who promised to keep her there till they came 
 again. As no mention is afterwards made of Mrs. Taylor, it is 
 probable that this was the last she saw of her husband. 
 
 As he rode forth from the inn at ii o'clock his little son 
 Thomas stood at the rails with John Hull to take a last look 
 at his father, and being lifted and set on his horse by the 
 faithful servant, Dr. Taylor raised his eyes to Heaven and 
 prayed for his son. Then, " he laid his hand upon the child's 
 head and blessed him." 
 
 All the way as they rode to Brentford, the yeomen of the 
 guard were astonished at the cheerfulness and courage of their 
 charge. He seemed like one going to "a most pleasant banquet 
 or bridal," and when at length they were met by the Sheriff 
 of Suffolk at Chelmsford, and he knew that he was yet another 
 stage nearer the place of his execution, his spirit seemed to 
 rise in exultation. 
 
 It was not only his close friends and those who were in 
 sympathy with his teaching who felt the loveableness of his 
 disposition, but we see very plainly that even those charged 
 with his custody could not be insensible to the personal 
 attraction of his original character. 
 
 Before he left him, the Sheriff of Essex made a final effort 
 to dissuade him from his decision, urging that he was "a man 
 of goodly personage and well beloved of all men, as well for 
 his virtues as for his learning," and adding, "me thinketh it 
 were a great pity you should cast away yourself willingly, and 
 so come to such a painful and shameful death." They were at 
 supper, and while promising that he and all his friends there 
 assembled would be suitors to the Queen for his pardon, if he 
 would only revoke his opinions, the Sheriff drank to him, and 
 his example was copied by the yeomen of the guard. Then 
 followed a scene which the company were not likely to forget. 
 
THE HERO OF HADLEIGH. 5 1 
 
 for when the cup was handed to him, Dr. Taylor " staid a 
 little as one studying what answer he might give." 
 
 It had not been an unknown thing for martyrs to falter at 
 the approach of death, or, overwhelmed with the prospect of 
 unendurable suffering, to recant at the last moment, and as the 
 men watched his countenance a sudden hope sprang up in the 
 heart of the Sheriff, which the Minister's first words encouraged. 
 
 *' Master Sheriff and my masters all," he said, *' I heartily 
 thank you for your goodwill ; I have hearkened to your words 
 and marked well your counsels. And to be plain with you, I do 
 perceive that I have deceived myself, and am like to deceive a 
 great many of Hadley of their expectation." 
 
 "God's blessing on your heart," cried the Sheriff, "hold 
 you there still. It is the comfortablest word that we have heard 
 you speak yet. What ! should ye cast away yourself in vain ? 
 Play a wise man's part, and I dare warrant it, ye shall find 
 favour." 
 
 While the Sheriff congratulated himself that his words had 
 taken effect, and the whole party, genuinely glad to have done 
 with so unpopular a business, made merry and rejoiced, the subject 
 of their jubilation held his peace, and bided his time. At length, 
 anxious to know the exact meaning of his words — ** Good Master 
 Doctor," quoth the Sheriff, " what meant ye by this, that ye 
 say ye think ye have been deceived yourself, and that ye shall 
 deceive many in Hadley?" 
 
 "Would ye know my meaning plainly?" quoth he. 
 
 "Yea," quoth the Sheriff, "good Master Doctor, tell it us 
 plainly." 
 
 It was a grim jest indeed that made the men " look one on 
 another amazed," as they listened to the unexpected answer, 
 but the dauntless spirit of the martyr was not subdued by his 
 long confinement in prison. 
 
 We may not admire the humour that within so short a time 
 of his death could play so lightly with the realities before him, 
 
52 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 but the incident is so thoroughly characteristic of the man that 
 to omit to mention it would be to fail to get a true idea of 
 the many-sided character of the minister of Hadleigh. 
 
 " I will tell you how I have been deceived, and, as I think, I 
 shall deceive a great many. I am, as you see, a man that hath 
 a very great carcase, which I thought should have been buried 
 in Hadley Churchyard, if I had died in my bed, as I well hoped 
 I should have done ; but herein I see I was deceived, and there 
 are a great number of worms in Hadley Churchyard, which 
 should have had jolly feeding upon this carrion, which they 
 have looked for many a day. But now I know we be deceived, 
 both I and they ; for this carcase must be burnt to ashes ; and 
 so shall they lose their bait and feeding, that they looked to 
 have had of it." 
 
 After this the disappointed Sheriff handed over his charge 
 to the Sheriff of Suffolk, who conducted him first to Lavenham. 
 Here they stayed for two days, apparently in the hope that 
 something might yet be done to stay the execution, for here 
 *' many gentlemen and justices upon great horses " arrived and 
 laboured to bring Dr. Taylor to another mind. They had 
 brought with them a pardon, ready to be delivered to him the 
 instant he should yield, and promises of promotion and even of 
 a Bishopric, if he would renounce the reformed religion. But 
 their efforts were all in vain, so nothing remained but to proceed 
 on the journey to Hadleigh, where he was to suffer. 
 
 When within two miles of the town. Dr. Taylor asked 
 permission to dismount from his horse, which done " he leaped, 
 and set a frisk or twain, as men commonly do in dancing." 
 This conduct naturally astonished the Sheriff, who inquired, 
 " Why, Master Doctor, how do you now?" he answered, "Well, 
 God be praised, good Master Sheriff, never better, for now I know 
 I am almost at home. I lack not past two stiles to go over, 
 and I am even at my Father's house." 
 
 The streets of Hadleigh were lined with people on either 
 
•s 
 
THE HERO OF HADLEIGH. 53 
 
 side, anxious to catch a glimpse of the minister they loved, 
 but his face was hidden in a close hood. Wailing and lamenting, 
 they cried one to another, " Ah, good Lord ! there goeth our 
 shepherd from us, that so faithfully hath taught us, so fatherly 
 hath cared for us, and so godly hath governed us. O merciful 
 God, what shall we poor scattered lambs do ? What shall 
 come of this most wicked world ? Good Lord, strengthen 
 him and comfort him." 
 
 To whom Dr. Taylor answered : "I have preached to you 
 God's word and truth, and am come this day to seal it with 
 my blood." Then were the people very sharply rebuked by 
 the Sheriff and his men. 
 
 Visitors to Hadleigh are probably acquainted with the George 
 
 Street Almshouses, with their interesting little chapel, dating 
 
 about 1490. It was as the procession passed this way that 
 
 Dr. Taylor greeted the inmates who stood at the doors. Coming 
 
 to the last house he missed the couple who dwelt there, and 
 
 asked, " Is the blind man and blind woman that dwelt here 
 
 alive ? " Being answered in the affirmative, he threw his glove, 
 
 containing all that remained of his money, in at the window, 
 
 and so rode forth. And now they were approaching Aldham 
 
 Common, where multitudes were assembled to witness the final 
 
 scene. 
 
 I have stood but lately on the now quiet spot overlooking 
 
 the town of Hadleigh. The larks sing in the open fields, and 
 
 nature chants her sweetest lullaby over the sleeping ashes of the 
 
 martyr. But on that very spot in the year 1555, an excited 
 
 crowd awaited the arrival of the horsemen, who were seen wending 
 
 their way up the hill from Hadleigh. 
 
 There were men there whose hearts were hot within them, 
 
 and who learnt a lesson that day that remained with them till 
 
 their own turn came to suffer, and one woman at least, who 
 
 would presently risk the fury of the executioners, to kneel by the 
 
 dying sufferer and uphold him with her simple prayers. 
 
54 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 \ 
 
 But now there is a stir and movement in the throng, as the 
 people divide to let the horsemen pass. All eyes are fastened upon 
 the central figure, but they may not see his features fOr the close 
 hood which envelops his face. Now he is speaking, and the 
 bystanders can catch the words. "What place is this?" he asks, 
 " and what meaneth it that so much people are gathered hither jl'' 
 
 *• It is Aldham Common, the place where you must suffer, 
 and the people are come to look upon you," is the reply. 
 
 Then said he, "Thanked be God, I am even at home," and 
 so alighted from his horse, and with both hands rent the hood 
 from his head. 
 
 At sight of his venerable face, with the long white beard, 
 many of the onlookers burst into weeping, crying out " God save 
 thee, good Dr. Taylor!" "Jesus Christ strengthen thee, and keep 
 thee," " The Holy Ghost comfort thee." It was commonly reported 
 that, on pain of having his tongue cut out, he and others with 
 him had made a promise of silence to the Council, but after 
 asking leave of the Sheriff to speak, and being refused, Dr. 
 Taylor did speak one last word to the people. 
 
 After preparing himself for the stake, he rose up, and said 
 with a loud voice, " Good people, I have taught you nothing but 
 God's Holy Word, and those lessons that I have taken out of 
 God's Blessed Book, the Holy Bible, and I come hither this day 
 to seal it with my blood." 
 
 A heavy stroke on the head from a "waster" was the result, 
 and, seeing that he would not be permitted further to speak, he 
 knelt down and prayed, then kissed the stake, and deliberately 
 placed himself in a pitch barrel set for him, and so stood with 
 his back to the stake. His eyes were raised to heaven, and his 
 hands were folded. 
 
 As the faggots were being set up, Warwick, in ruthless 
 cruelty, flung a faggot in his face, causing the blood to flow. At 
 which gratuitous brutality Dr. Taylor exclaimed, " O friend, I have 
 harm enough; what needed that?" 
 
Names that we Miss. 
 
Raines tl)at idc ini$$. 
 
 It was a long journey that John Alcock was taking when he put 
 his foot across the threshold of Hadleigh Church some 340 years 
 ago. Not only was it to involve him in a ride to London within 
 the following 24 hours, but after that it would mean a plunge from 
 the light of day to the depth of the lowest dungeon, from the free 
 gracious air of heaven to the fetid atmosphere of a prison such as 
 Newgate was in those days. 
 
 Nor would that be the end of the journey, for though the 
 young shearer would never again see the picturesque town of 
 Hadleigh, and the doors of his terrible prison would only open 
 that his poor dead body might be cast out into the fields, his soul 
 already freed would have fled on that last long journey to the 
 blessed country where there is no more pain, neither sorrow, nor 
 crying. 
 
 That day as he stepped into the church, now very sacred to 
 the memories of Rowland Taylor and Richard Yeoman, the 
 martyred ministers of Hadleigh, his heart beat fast with painful 
 emotion, and compassion for the sufferers had given place to 
 indignation at their relentless persecutors. 
 
 Hardly three years had passed since that sad procession, 
 escorting Dr. Taylor to his place of suffering, had left Hadleigh 
 and passed along to Aldham Common, where the cruel deed of 
 burning was perpetrated, and ever since that day this young 
 disciple had done his simple best to supply the spiritual needs of 
 the people by reading the prayers from the Prayer Book in English 
 to those who came to listen. 
 
60 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 A weeping crowd had followed the godly Rowland Taylor 
 on that last sad journey, calling down blessings on the reverend 
 head. They had seen him brutally struck by the attendants of 
 the Sheriff, and heard his meek rejoinder when a wanton blow 
 on the head made the precious life blood flow. And the men 
 of Hadleigh could not easily forget the scene. Often in thought 
 they saw it over again. The long stretch of common sloping 
 away to the valley, the throng of heart-stricken villagers pressing 
 around to catch a last glimpse of the minister they so deeply 
 loved, and in the midst the stake firmly fixed into the ground 
 to which the victim must be tied. 
 
 Was something of all this tragic recollection in the mind 
 of John Alcock as he watched Newall, the priest, passing with 
 the procession down Hadleigh Church ? Was he thinking, too, 
 of the aged Curate, Yeoman, whose face they missed from his 
 accustomed place, and who had suffered in a like manner at 
 Norwich, and of John Dale, the godly weaver, both of whom 
 had been hurried to their death by the very man who was now 
 before him ? 
 
 Certainly these thoughts were uppermost in his mind, 
 as the young shearer, markedly standing behind the font, refused 
 to make any reverence as the procession passed by him. 
 
 Shall we say, *' Wait a minute, John Alcock ; consider 
 what you are doing; remember that your life is in the hands 
 of this man, and in another minute your fate will be 
 sealed ? " 
 
 Perhaps it would be useless, for he has had plenty of 
 time for consideration, and the act is evidently deliberate and 
 intended as a protest against the re-introduction of the Mass 
 into the service of the Church. Of course the priest notices 
 it, and equally, of course, swift retribution must follow. 
 
 Hardly has he reached the door with the procession than 
 he returns, and, seizing the young man, calls aloud for the 
 constable. 
 
NAMES THAT WE MISS. 6 1 
 
 Now, it happened that Robert Rolfe, the Constable, was 
 the master for whom young Alcock worked, and was himself in 
 bad odour with the priest. Hearing his name called, he came 
 forward, and thus addressed himself to Newall : '* Master parson, 
 what hath he done that ye are in such a rage with him ? " 
 
 "He is a heretic and a traitor," returned the priest, "and 
 despiseth the Queen's proceedings. Wherefore I command you, 
 in the Queen's name, have him to the stocks, and see he be 
 forthcoming." 
 
 But the Constable is grieved for his servant, and will give 
 no such promise. He shall be forthcoming, but shall not be 
 subject to the indignity of the stocks. As Constable, Rolfe has 
 the power to bail him out, and this he does, although Newall 
 vehemently insists again, " Have him to the stocks." 
 
 Between the arrest and the interrogation at the priest's 
 house but a short time elapsed. Rolfe would fain have saved 
 the young man if he could, and warned him to be very careful 
 how he should answer the questions put to him. To all which 
 advice he replied, " Sir, I am sorry that it is my hap to be a 
 trouble to you. As for myself, I am not sorry ; but I do 
 commit myself into God's hands, and I trust He will give me 
 mouth and wisdom to answer according to right." 
 
 Still the Constable continued to urge caution, and especially 
 because of the old grudge which Newall had against himself, for 
 which reason, he said, *' he will handle you the more cruelly, 
 because of displeasure against me." 
 
 But John Alcock was not to be moved. It is very evident 
 that he coveted the crown of martyrdom, and would never be 
 induced to protect himself by evading the truth. 
 
 " I fear not," he said, " he shall do no more to me than 
 God will give him leave ; and happy shall I be if God will 
 call me to die for His Truth's sake." 
 
 It was the question of the Sacrament which was first brought 
 up when, that afternoon, true to his word, Rolfe conducted the 
 

 62 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 shearer to the priest's house. When asked as to his belief 
 concerning it, he boldly answered, *' Ye make a shameful idol 
 of it." In this case, as in the case of so many other peasant 
 martyrs of the time, the simple mind had grasped the higher 
 mystical significance of the Holy Ordinance, and passionately 
 held to it, rejecting with indignant scorn the grosser material 
 interpretation. And so his fate was sealed, and the very next 
 day he was taken up to London by Newall and thrown into 
 Newgate to await his trial. 
 
 There is to me a terrible significance in that short sentence 
 which occurs over and over again in the histories of martyrs 
 of humble degree, who, "with evil keeping and sickness of the 
 house, died in prison." 
 
 This was the fate of both John Alcock, the shearer, and John Dale, 
 the weaver, of Hadleigh. It was so easy to get rid of troublesome 
 peasantry in this way, without all the sensational details of a public 
 burning, and it had withal the advantage of securing a drawn-out 
 suffering more terrible than the short-lived agony of the stake. 
 As these lowly martyrs gasped out their breath in those noxious 
 dungeons, there was no crowd of sympathising on -lookers to cheer 
 them in the last dread struggle. 
 
 Around them the darkness as of a tomb had already closed 
 in, and the terrible walls shut them away from all tender human 
 contact. 
 
 Alone, tortured with irons that pressed into their frail flesh, 
 sick with the loathsome conditions of the place, these brave souls 
 still held unflinchingly to the Truth, and, notwithstanding repeated 
 examinations, could not be shaken in their adherence to it. 
 
 Did they pass away from life alone, unnoticed and unwept? 
 We will follow them in spirit even now, and, descending the long 
 stone stairway, will feel with them the chill of the death-damp 
 vault, and spend with them the last sad hour. Ah, brothers, 
 you shall not die alone, if spirits unhampered by time may visit 
 the scenes of your anguish, and whisper in your dying ears 
 
NAMES THAT WE MISS. 63 
 
 words of sweet consolation. Be of good cheer, dear brothers ; 
 your deaths have not been in vain. You who dared all for the 
 truth are keeping the truth alive even to-day. By your strength 
 we are still strengthened ; by your living sacrifice we are learning 
 to die. 
 
 As we stand within the grey walls of the ancient church of 
 Hadleigh, visions of the past rise and pass before us, and voices 
 long hushed sound again through the echoing aisles. Here Monks 
 had chanted and Reformers thundered. Here the blessed Bilney 
 poured out his soul to an astonished congregation, when, on a visit 
 to Hadleigh, he was the means of converting the town to Protestantism. 
 Although within the church many alterations have been made since 
 that time, the same walls that we see to-day were then standing, 
 and even the later perpendicular windows had already been introduced. 
 
 We can hardly look unmoved at the font, which, although it 
 has been re-cut, is probably the identical font behindjwhich John Alcock 
 stood on that eventful Sunday. 
 
 Up to as late a date as 1825, " Foxe's Book of Martyrs," in 
 which is to be found the story above related, might still have been 
 seen chained to a desk in the chapel, which is divided by a screen 
 from the north aisle, where it was probably placed not so 
 very long after the events took place. A Genevan Bible, dated 
 1576, is still in the church chest, and it is conjectured that this was 
 also similarly attached. 
 
 In the field just outside Hadleigh stands the Monument which 
 marks the place of Rowland Taylor's suffering. Visitors to the sacred 
 spot will be glad to find the name of Richard Yeoman, the Curate, 
 also inscribed on the more recently erected stone, but we still miss 
 other names, humble, perhaps, but surely not less honourable, and 
 among them are those of John Alcock, who died in Newgate, and 
 John Dale, who succumbed to the "evil keeping" in Bury Gaol. 
 
 Would it not be a fitting tribute to the memory of the martyred 
 minister of Hadleigh, if, beside his name, those of some of his 
 faithful flock were also inscribed ? 
 
A Martyr of Bergholt 
 
n martpr of BerdDolt 
 
 While Dr. Argentine was painting the posts of the town with 
 **Vivat regina Maria," to testify to his joy at the accession of 
 Queen Mary, on many another heart in Ipswich and the 
 neighbourhood the news fell as a veritable death knell. 
 
 The stormy vicissitudes through which the Church had passed 
 during the reign of King Henry seemed at length to have tossed 
 her into the quiet haven where she would be, and a transient 
 peace had been enjoyed while young Edward held the sceptre. 
 But too soon, alas, it slipped from his frail grasp, and the 
 passing bell that told of his soul's escape was the signal for 
 the storm to burst afresh, and the waves to lift themselves up 
 even higher than before. 
 
 In one house, at least, in Bergholt, fearful apprehension was 
 the predominating feeling. Here, as at Hadleigh, a faithful 
 minister dwelt in the midst of his flock, feeding them in green 
 pastures, and leading them beside the still waters. During the 
 quiet days of King Edward, when the priests were allowed to 
 marry, Robert Samuel and his wife had dwelt together in peace at 
 Bergholt, but suddenly all was changed. The merciless fiat had 
 gone forth strictly enjoining all married priests to put away their 
 wives and return to a life of celibacy, and those who would not 
 comply with the new regulation were hunted from their benefices, 
 and in many cases even forfeited their lives. 
 
 Of course, the question of the marriage of the priests was 
 intimately connected with other vital points of doctrinal difference, 
 
68 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 but it was often made the pretext for a first attack on 
 the Protestant clergy. 
 
 As already noticed there lived at this time, not far from 
 Ipswich, a Justice of the Peace of the name of Foster, who had 
 been mainly instrumental in compassing the destruction of Dr. 
 Taylor, of Hadleigh, and now with equal zeal, he sought how 
 he might bring the ministry of Robert Samuel to a close. 
 
 The first step was to remove him from the benefice of 
 Bergholt, but, although this was accomplished, the faithful pastor 
 continued diligently to teach and exhort the people as opportunity 
 offered. Visiting secretly at the houses of those who remained 
 faithful to the reformed doctrines of the Church, his influence was 
 still felt, and his poor flock was encouraged to hold on its 
 way. 
 
 But, of course, this could not be allowed to continue, so 
 spies were sent abroad to catch him, and, as his wife was living 
 in Ipswich, it was determined to way-lay the minister when he 
 came to visit her. 
 
 Such a proceeding, however, was likely to be attended with 
 some uproar if done in broad daylight ; so waiting till night 
 had closed in, a large band of persons surrounded the house, and 
 Robert Samuel was seized and dragged away from his weeping 
 wife to be hurried off to prison. ... As the last sentence is 
 written, one is struck with the emptiness of mere words 
 unaccompanied by the feeling which should give them soul. 
 
 How lightly we state the facts; with what callous hearts we 
 recount these tragic histories. 
 
 But how to break through this habit of indifference, that is 
 the question, how to see again through the mist of years the 
 human faces of these, our brothers and sisters, our fellow citizens, 
 of whose memories we may well be proud. 
 
 There is a plot of ground in Westgate Street, between 
 Black Horse Lane and the Feathers Inn, over which cart-wheels 
 rumble and busy feet are perpetually passing. 
 
2 s 
 
A MARTYR OF BERGHOLT. 69 
 
 To the casual observer pausing for a moment to contemplate 
 the scene, the idea of commercial prosperity is the thought 
 naturally uppermost, and no vision of the past builds an invisible 
 monument over the sacred spot. But happily, there are seers 
 still amongst us, and looking through their inspired eyes, the sordid 
 work-a-day present melts away for a moment, and in its place 
 faintly, but still preceptibly, the strange old world arises. 
 
 Thanks to the graphic pen of Mr. Glyde, whose beautiful 
 work on " Old Ipswich " is so well known, we can conjure up a 
 picture of this exact locality, as it presented itself to the eyes of 
 Robert Samuel in 1555. Instead of the busy thoroughfare, with 
 smooth wood-paving and tram lines, a rough cobbled road appears, 
 spanned by a picturesque gateway, known as the West Gate. 
 The massive ^tone masonry speaks unmistakably of 14th century 
 work, with additions made at later periods, and the deep bastion-like 
 towers and battlemented west front give the building an imposing 
 appearance. 
 
 Moreover, it not merely serves as the West Gate of the town, 
 but contains in it certain chambers which have served various 
 purposes, according to the exigencies of the time. When Robert 
 Samuel was apprehended this building had been converted into 
 the '* Towne Gaol," and here it was that he spent the first 
 night of his imprisonment. 
 
 It is strange to stand on the very spot where the gate then 
 stood, and to try and realise the scene when, at midnight, the 
 prisoner was brought through the streets, surrounded by a strong 
 guard. John Bird must have been the keeper of the gaol at 
 this time, for we hear of him in this capacity as early as 1546, 
 and less than a year after Samuel's imprisonment this good 
 jailer was accused by Queen Mary's Commissioners of encouraging 
 the Protestants who were brought there from time to time. 
 
 Notwithstanding loss of liberty, we may gather, I think, 
 that the time spent in Ipswich Gaol was not altogether an unhappy 
 one for the Minister of Bergholt. He at once found himself 
 
70 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 in the company of other men of like mind, awaiting their trials, 
 and ** passed his time meekly among his godly brethren, so long 
 as he was permitted to continue there." 
 
 Perhaps, from this place, he penned those two beautiful letters 
 addressed ** To the Christian Congregation," wherein he exhorts 
 his fellow-sufferers to "be constant in obeying God, rather than 
 men. For, although they slay our sinful bodies for God's verity, 
 yet they cannot do it but by God's sufferance and goodwill, to 
 His praise and honour, and to our eternal joy and felicity. For 
 our blood shed for the Gospel shall preach it with more fruit, and 
 greater furtherance, than did our mouths, lives and writings, as 
 did the blood of Abel, Stephen, with many others more." 
 
 Happy would it have been for Robert Samuel if he might 
 have remained in Ipswich Gaol up to the day of his trial and 
 martyrdom; but this was not allowed. Even the poor comfort 
 to be derived from the friendly keeper and the sympathy of his 
 fellow-prisoners was too good for the heretic minister, so he is 
 taken off to Norwich to be dealt with by Dr. Hopton, the 
 Bishop, who had already succeeded so well in reclaiming wanderers, 
 and restoring them to the fold of the Roman Church. 
 
 Of the means used for their conversion there is plenty of 
 evidence still existing. When dungeons, irons and fire are resorted 
 to as methods of persuasion, we can only wonder at the superhuman 
 courage given to so many of these suffering ones, who held out 
 even to the dividing asunder of soul and body. In some cases, 
 indeed, their minds gave way before the stress of agony, but even 
 that worst of all terrors, the loss of reason, could not wring from 
 them the desired recantation. 
 
 For this holy and reverend man of God special tortures were 
 in waiting, and it was hoped that he would give way before 
 them. But God stood by him, and the angels ministered to him, 
 and there was ever the form of Another that brightened the gloom 
 of the terrible dungeon of Norwich Castle. 
 
 There was ingenuity in the methods pf torment adopted, such 
 
A MARTYR OF BERGHOLT. 71 
 
 ingenuity, that it sets one considering curiously the condition of 
 the mind that could have invented them, and to wonder whether 
 a confused sense of religious duty could really partially excuse 
 acts of such atrocious cruelty. " Chained bolt upright to a great 
 post, in such sort, that standing only on tip-toe he was fain to 
 stay up the whole poise or weight of his body thereby," Robert 
 Samuel endured night and day the extremist anguish to which 
 the human body could be subjected. 
 
 But as though this were not enough, to it was added the 
 pain of slow starvation. He must be fed indeed, else the soul 
 would escape too soon from its frail tenement, but the "two or 
 three mouthfuls of bread" allowed him in the day, and "three 
 spoonfuls of water ' ' would only serve to increase rather than to 
 relieve the misery of the pining body. When we read .that 
 special manifestations were granted to him in the prison, we are 
 not inclined to be sceptical as to the fact, for without such Divine 
 succour the final endurance of this man is hardly to be explained. 
 
 Possibly, the enforced fast rendered him specially susceptible 
 to spiritual impressions, but be that as it may "after he had 
 been famished or pined with hunger two or three days together, 
 he fell into a sleep as it were one-half in a slumber, at which 
 time one clad all in white seemed to stand before him, who 
 ministered comfort to him by these words, " Samuel, Samuel ! 
 be of good cheer, and take a good heart unto thee, for after 
 this day shalt thou never be either hungry or thirsty.'? "Which 
 thing," we read "came to pass accordingly," for he felt neither 
 hunger nor thirst again till he was led away to be burned. ' 
 
 Nor was this the only consolation that he received during 
 this time of grievous need. 
 
 " Many more like matters concerning the great comfort he 
 had of Christ, in his afflictions, he could utter," he said, "besides 
 this, but that shamefacedness and modesty would not suffer him 
 to utter it." 
 
 One dream however, he told to his friends before his death, 
 
7 2 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 the fulfilment of which they recognized afterwards. He seemed 
 to see three separate ladders set up to heaven, one of them 
 longer than the others, but all at length joining together, and 
 becoming one. Did this, indeed foreshadow the deaths of the 
 two Ipswich women who had succoured him, and who were 
 apprehended the very next day after Samuel's death, and died 
 on the Cornhill about seven months later ? 
 
 It was on the thirty-first day of August, A.D. 1555, that the 
 sufferings of the minister of Bergholt at length came to an end. So 
 terrible, indeed, had they been that his burning was "but a trifle in 
 comparison of those pains that he had passed." His death took place 
 in Ipswich, presumably on the Cornhill, though I have discovered 
 no account of the exact spot where it occurred. 
 
 It seemed to those who stood round watching the end, that 
 his body, as it burned, shone "bright and white as new- tried 
 silver." 
 
 Among the writings left by him, a quotation of his "Confession 
 of Faith" may not be out of place in these days. Many and 
 varied as were the shades of difference in the general opinions of 
 these early Protestants, they were one in an emphatic denial of 
 the materialistic explanation of the Holy Communion. That its 
 higher mystical significance was not sufficient to satisfy their 
 opponents the rejection of such a confession as the following 
 plainly shows. Speaking of his belief with regard to the most 
 Holy Supper of the Lord, he says, " As soon as I hear these 
 most comfortable and heavenly words spoken and pronounced by 
 the mouth of the minister, ' This is My Body, which is given 
 for you,' when I hear (I say) this heavenly harmony of God's 
 infallible promises and truth, I look not upon, neither do I 
 behold bread and wine ; for I take and believe the words simply 
 and plainly, even as Christ spake them. For hearing these words, 
 my senses be rapt and utterly excluded, for faith wholly taketh 
 place, and not flesh, nor the carnal imaginations of our gross 
 fleshly and unreverent eating, after the manner of our bodily 
 
A MARTYR OF BERGHOLT. 73 
 
 food, which profiteth nothing at all, as Christ witnesseth, but 
 with a sorrowful and wounded conscience, and hungry and 
 thirsty soul, and pure and faithful mind, do fully embrace, 
 behold and feed and look upon, that most glorious body of 
 Christ in Heaven at the right hand of God the Father, very 
 God and very Man, which was crucified and was slain, and His 
 blood shed for our sins, there now making intercession, offering 
 and giving His holy body for me, for my body, for my ransom, 
 for my full price and satisfaction, who is my Christ, and all 
 that ever he hath ; and by this spiritual and faithful eating of 
 this lively and heavenly bread I feel the most sweet sap and 
 taste of the fruits, benefits and unspeakable joys of Christ's death 
 and passion, fully digested into my soul. 
 
 " For my mind is quieted from all worldly adversities, 
 turmoilings, and troubles, my conscience is pacified from sin, 
 death, hell and damnation ; my soul is full, and hath even 
 enough, and will no more ; for all things are but loss, vile 
 dung and dross, vain vanity, for the excellent knowledge-sake of 
 Christ Jesu, my Lord and Saviour. Thus now is Christ's flesh 
 my very meat indeed, and His blood my very drink indeed, 
 and I am become flesh of His flesh and bone of His bones. 
 Now I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me. Yea, I dwell 
 in Him, and He in me, for, through faith in Christ and 
 for Christ's sake, we are one — that is, of one consent, mind 
 and fellowship with the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. 
 Thus am I assured and fully persuaded, and on this rock have 
 I builded, by God's grace, my dwelling and resting-place, for 
 body and soul, life and death. And thus I commit my cause, 
 under Christ, the righteous and just Judge, who will another day 
 judge these debates and controversies, whom I humbly beseech 
 to cast His- tender and merciful eyes upon thok afflicted and 
 ruinous churches, and shortly to reduce them into a godly and 
 perpetual concord." 
 
 Shall we not echo the martyr's prayer, and add a fervent Amen ? 
 
The Martyrdom of 
 Agnes Potten & Joan Trunchfield. 
 
CDe martprdom of 
 Jidnes potteti $ Joan Cruncbfieia. 
 
 If Queen Mary's accession was a cause of rejoicing to her Roman 
 Catholic subjects, her death removed the sentences which hung 
 over the heads of no less than seventy-seven persons in Ipswich 
 and the neighbourhood. Besides these, others had fled the town, 
 and again others had their names added to a list of those who 
 refused to observe Romish ceremonies. 
 
 But Mary had still two more years in which to exercise her 
 baneful power, when two poor women, one a brewer's wife and 
 one the wife of a shoemaker of Ipswich, were burned on the 
 Corn hill. 
 
 The story of their martyrdom is invested with a peculiar 
 interest, inasmuch as it is connected, as already mentioned, with 
 that of Robert Samuel, who suffered about six months previously. 
 
 The very day after his death the women were apprehended 
 on account of their having rendered him some assistance. 
 
 This fact called to the mind of the witnesses of their 
 execution a strange and beautiful dream which the martyred 
 minister had related during his awful sufferings in Norwich Gaol. 
 
 He seemed to see in his sleep '* three ladders set up toward 
 Heaven, of the which there was one somewhat longer than the 
 rest, but at length they became one, joining (as it were) all 
 three together." 
 
78 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 Very steep was the ladder up which these tender women 
 climbed, and more than once their hearts failed them, and it 
 seemed that human nature could scarcely endure the strain put 
 upon it. 
 
 They had been urged by a friend, Rose Nottingham, to 
 convey themselves from the town while yet there was time, but 
 one of them had answered — 
 
 ** I know well that it is lawful enough to fly away ; which 
 remedy you may use if you list. But my case standeth otherwise. 
 I am tied to a husband, and have besides a sort of young children 
 at home .... therefore I am minded, for the love of Christ and 
 His truth, to stand to the extremity of the matter.'* 
 
 We are not told which of the two made this answer, but 
 Agnes Potten was at times *' cast into marvellous great agonies 
 and troubles of mind" during their imprisonment. 
 
 Perhaps it was the thought of her ungodly husband and 
 the "sort of young children" from whom she had been torn, 
 that was a too poignant misery. 
 
 Be this as it may, she nevertheless remained *' ardent and 
 zealous" in the cause which she had chosen, and was even the 
 stronger of the two, while for six long months they faced the 
 prospect of death. 
 
 At length, on February 19th, 1556, the awful morning dawned, 
 and on the Cornhill of Ipswich, a great multitude gathered to 
 see the burning of these two heroic women. 
 
 It was Michael Trunchfield's wife whose timid soul was 
 suddenly exalted as she gazed upon the stake, and knew that 
 death was inevitable. 
 
 The peace that had hitherto been denied to her now descended 
 with healing balm on her wounded spirit, and it is said of her 
 "that she much exceeded the other in joy and comfort" at this 
 terrible moment. 
 
 While they prepared themselves for the stake, they used the 
 opportunity afforded, for urging upon the bystanders *' to lay 
 
.,' i J i IJJ > Jja i UliM* I WW- i iWtflaPWiJMi^Li'.gJ#i!j^^^ 
 
 ^h^Bumina of Astci!t% Potten i^JoanTiimchfield 
 
 I-'runi /■'itch Collection, by kin,/ p,rinit.:,ifn ,•/ t/i,- SuH'olk A rc/ia'o/rgual Council. 
 
 " THEY HELD UP THEIR HANDS IN THE FLAMES WHILE THEY CALLED UPON GOD 
 FOR HELP IN THE HQUR OF EXTREMITY." 
 
THE MARTYRDOM OF AGNES POTTEN AND JOAN TRUNCHFIELD. 79 
 
 hold on the Word of God, and not upon man's devices and 
 inventions." 
 
 The ** comfortable words of scripture " afforded them strength, 
 and they held up their hands in the flames while they called 
 upon God for help in the hour of extremity. 
 
 And so the end came, and once again the ashes of martyrs 
 mingled with the dust of the road-way, and the young children 
 waited and wept for their mothers, but God " put their tears 
 into His bottle"; for *'are not these things noted in Thy Book? " 
 
A St. Margarets Hero. 
 
n $1 margaret's Bero. 
 
 Whatever may be our belief regarding the general claims of 
 psychologists, the fact remains that presentiments of death are of 
 very common occurrence. So well authenticated indeed are cases 
 of the kind as to be quite beyond dispute, and even unbelievers 
 in occult manifestations are forced to make an exception in favour 
 of these phenomena. 
 
 A remarkable instance of such a premonition occurred in 
 Ipswich in the year 1556. 
 
 William Pikes, a tanner, who was then living in the town, 
 had been in the habit of befriending the victims of Queen Mary's 
 relentless cruelty. Being naturally of a hospitable disposition, he 
 gladly bestowed of his goods to feed the poor, and many a 
 hunted refugee found shelter and comfort within his walls. Among 
 the most treasured of his possessions was a *' Thomas Matthewe's 
 Bible," which he was in the habit of studying with deep and 
 earnest attention. 
 
 How he came by it we do not know, for it was a forbidden 
 Book, and could only be retained at the risk of life and liberty. 
 Printed on the fly-leaf in red letters were the following words, 
 ** Set forth with the King's most gracious licence," and in it was 
 to be found a '* special table collected of the common places in 
 the Bible, and the Scriptures for the approbation of the same ; 
 and chiefly about the Supper of the Lord, and marriage of the 
 priests, and the Mass, which there was said not to be found in 
 the Scripture." 
 
 The history of this Bible may be worth while recalling to 
 mind. It was printed at Hamburg about A.D. 1537, and was 
 Tyndale's translation, but as he was apprehended before it was 
 
84 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 actually ready for the press, it was thought well to father it with 
 a fictitious name, and it was known as " Thomas Matthewe's 
 Bible." 
 
 The circulation of this translation in England gave great 
 offence to the clergy and bishops, though Archbishop Cranmer 
 "liked very well of it," and not long afterwards orders were given 
 for its suppression. 
 
 Grafton, the printer, who three years later produced another 
 Bible called ** the Great Bible," was sent to the Fleet, and before 
 he came out ** was bound, in three hundred pounds, that he should 
 neither sell, nor imprint, nor cause to be imprinted, any more 
 Bibles, until the King and Clergy should agree upon a translation." 
 This, the latter carefully refrained from accomplishing during the 
 rest of the reign of Henry VIII., and *' thus the Bible from that 
 time stayed." 
 
 It was just nineteen years after the suppression of these 
 Bibles that we find William Pikes, of Ipswich, in possession of 
 a volume. 
 
 Queen Mary had been reigning for three years, during which 
 time he had absented himself from public worship, in which he 
 could no longer join with a clear conscience. For this reason 
 he was already a marked man, for careful records were kept of 
 all such as neglected to attend the churches. 
 
 Turning to a document drawn up on May i8th, 1556, entitled 
 *' A complaint against such as favoured the Gospell in Ipswich, 
 exhibited to Queene Marie's Counsaile," in a list of such persons 
 belonging to St. Margaret's, we find the name of ** William 
 Pickesse, tanner." The church register, which dates from 1539, 
 probably contains records of his family history, but the difficulty 
 of deciphering it has prevented me from clearing up this point.* 
 
 That it was no lack of the true spirit of devotion that caused 
 the tanner to dissociate himself from his fellow-worshippers in 
 
 ♦After writing the above, with the kind help of Mr. Redstone, Secretary of the Suffolk 
 Archaeological Institute, I have searched the St. Margaret's register and there found the christening 
 and deaths of the children of " Wyl Pyckes," dating from 1541 to 1558. 
 
ts 
 
 
A ST. Margaret's hero. 85 
 
 St. Margaret's Church, we may gather from the fact of his 
 diligent study of the Bible at home and his habit of meeting 
 with others for prayer and meditation when possible. 
 
 It was during one of those quiet hours when only ** He that 
 seeth in secret" knew what was passing in His servant's mind, 
 that the presentiment of death came upon him, and this is how 
 it 'happened. 
 
 He was sitting in his garden, looking towards the south, 
 with the Bible open upon his knee, when " suddenly fell down 
 upon his book, between eleven and twelve o'clock of the day, 
 four drops of fresh blood, and he knew not from whence it came. 
 Then he, seeing the same, was sore astonished, and could by no 
 means learn from whence it should fall ; and wiping out one of 
 the drops with his finger, he called his wife and said, ' In the 
 virtue of God, wife, what meaneth this ? Will the Lord have 
 four sacrifices ? I see well enough the Lord will have blood. 
 His will be done, and give me grace to abide the trial ! Wife, 
 let us pray,' " said he, " ' for I fear the day draweth nigh.' " 
 
 This strange coincidence occurred a little after Midsummer, 
 but nothing daunted, only a few days later, William Pikes went 
 up to London and took part with some forty men and women, 
 who had met together for prayer and study of God's Holy Word. 
 
 It was in a back close, " in the field by the town of 
 Islington," that this assembly met, and the spot had been chosen 
 for the sake of secrecy, it being apparently so walled round as 
 to prevent their being readily discovered. 
 
 Like the little company at Gethsemane, who found in the 
 Garden a quiet shelter for rest and prayer, these humble followers 
 of the Disciples were watching with their Master. But the traitor 
 was at hand. Looking over the wall was a certain man who 
 watched their proceedings, and presently saluted them, saying 
 that *' they looked like men that meant no hurt." 
 
 One of the company thereupon supposing that he might 
 be the owner of the close, asked permission to remain there, to 
 
86 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 which he gave ready assent, repeating the traitor words, "Ye 
 seem unto me such persons as intend no harm." 
 
 As soon as the stranger had disappeared the meeting was 
 resumed. Bibles, as precious as they were difficult to obtain, 
 were brought out and reverently read, and with surprise and joy 
 the good news of a salvation *' without money and without 
 price" was revealed to the listeners. 
 
 It is not difficult to picture the scene. Earnest faces bent 
 over the sacred pages, while ever and anon, as some hitherto 
 hidden truth came to light, hearts would swell with holy joy, 
 and eyes light up with a new hope. 
 
 Ah! unsuspecting little flock of "good poor lambs," make 
 the very most of the brief time remaining to you. Store up 
 what courage you can against the day of trouble that is coming* 
 You who pray, pray earnestly, and let your cry come into the 
 ears of the Lord of Sabbaoth, for already, like a wolf greedy of 
 the prey, the enemy steals upon you. 
 
 Here is the Constable of Islington, with one other, who is 
 suddenly in your midst looking and viewing, and peremptorily 
 ordering that the books be delivered up. And after him, as in 
 Gethsemane of old, come six or seven others with bow and bill, 
 and weapons of warfare. 
 
 So the meeting breaks up in disorder, as the terrified 
 women fly for their lives, some escaping from the close, and 
 some as they are led away to the brew-house. But many of 
 the men are content to be taken in companies divided off among 
 the soldiers, and twenty-seven of them are brought to Sir 
 Roger Cholmley's, where their names are demanded. Of these, 
 twenty- two willingly give them, and they are straightway 
 conducted to Newgate. 
 
 How it fared with these good men afterwards, it pities me 
 to tell. They were so brave and true a company of innocent 
 souls, and the storm fell upon them while their lips were charged 
 with prayer, and their hearts with holy thinking, so there was 
 
A ST. Margaret's hero. 87 
 
 found no Peter to raise the sword to Malchus, but meekly, and 
 as becometh godly men, they went with their captors, though 
 *• it was not hard for them to escape that would." 
 
 I seem to see their set faces on that solemn deathward 
 journey, and to hear in the tread of their feet an echo of the 
 tramp of another crowd passing along to Calvary ; and I am 
 very proud to think that among that goodly band was William 
 Pikes, of St. Margaret's parish, Ipswich. 
 
 But after this came the fierce temptation to save their lives 
 by the sacrifice of conscience. 
 
 At first they should all be delivered from Newgate if they 
 would hear a mass, and afterwards fourteen articles are ministered 
 to them by Bonner, to all of which they must make satisfactory 
 answers, or else inevitably perish. Out of the twenty- two, 
 thirteen remain constant, "counting not their lives dear unto 
 themselves, so that they may win Christ." 
 
 So the faggots were lighted at Smithfield, and Roger Holland, 
 one of the first seven sufferers, embracing the stake and the reeds, 
 made this prayer : Lord, I most humbly thank Thy Majesty that 
 Thou hast called me from the state of death, unto the Light of 
 Thy Heavenly Word, and now unto the fellowship of Thy saints 
 that I may sing and say, ' Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of hosts ! ' 
 And Lord, into Thy hands I commit my spirit. Lord bless these 
 Thy people, and save them from idolatry." And so, praying and 
 praising God, with eyes raised to Heaven, he ended his life. 
 
 Then, on the 14th day of July, 1558, William Pikes, with 
 five others, suffered in like manner at Brentford, animated by the 
 same courage, and strong in the same faith. His timid prayer 
 for "grace to abide the trial," was more than answered, so that 
 he even "joyfully" approached the stake, where cruel death 
 awaited him. 
 
 We linger over the history of this noble Ipswich qjtizen, and 
 are fain to find the spot where the godly tanner lived, and to 
 recognize the garden in which he sat "looking towards the south," 
 
88 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 There is no monument erected to his memory, but his name, 
 with many another, shall be graven on our hearts, and his 
 example be a stimulus to our zeal for the truth. 
 
 i^ 
 
A PLOUGHMAN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
R PioudDmati's DaudDter. 
 
 In the days when hig^her education was not so much as dreamed 
 of for the peasantry of England, country folk were fain to rely 
 mainly upon Dame Nature for their schooling, and very well 
 indeed she sometimes taught them. 
 
 To begin with, no sluggard would ever get promotion in 
 her school, but the scholars must be up betimes of a morning 
 to begin their daily labour ere yet the sun was high in the 
 heavens. And the tasks she set them were no play work either, 
 but honest downright toil, that taxed the muscles and weathered 
 the skin, but made brawny arms and healthy hearts. 
 
 In such a school Alice Driver, of Grundisburgh, had been 
 brought up, and as she drove her father's plough in the fragrant 
 fields, and felt the stress of the long march through the heavy 
 upturned soil, her character was forming and strengthening, and, 
 all unknown to herself, she was being prepared to pass through 
 an ordeal, before which many another heart had given way. 
 
 Of further particulars of her early life, and the subsequent 
 courtship and marriage with a swarthy son of the soil, we know 
 but the barest facts, but we like to dream for a minute of walks 
 through the waving cornfields, and happy trysts under a mellow 
 harvest moon. For Alice was only thirty, when life, with all its 
 tragic admixture of poetry and pain, of glamour and grief, was 
 to be snatched from her. 
 
 We do not know how it fell out that this young country- 
 woman came under the notice and displeasure of Noone, one of 
 the Suffolk justices, but it is probable that her name had been 
 sent up by the priest of Grundisburgh. Doubtless she had begun 
 to absent herself from church, for her conscience would not 
 
\ 
 
 92 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. ^ 
 
 allow her longer to join in a service, the central motive of which 
 appeared to her idolatrous. 
 
 We ask rather curiously what had led her to this conclusion, 
 and we find the answer in the simple fact, that having become 
 possessed of a Bible which she studied with much pains, she 
 had learnt to see how the practice of the Church had departed 
 from the teaching given at the divine institution of the Blessed 
 Sacrament. 
 
 Only to-day I have been standing in the ancient church of 
 Grundisburgh where Alice and her husband had been wont to 
 worship. I have looked at the beautiful screens with their rich 
 mediaeval colouring, and thought how familiar their eyes must 
 have been with every detail of the carved panels, as Sunday by 
 Sunday the two sat facing them. 
 
 Overhead on the lofty wooden roof the angels still spread 
 their wings as then, and one almost seems to hear the rustle of the 
 feathers so skillfully were they wrought by some hand long since 
 dead. But at the time of which we are writing even the beauty 
 of the architecture had ceased to have any attraction for Driver's 
 honest wife, for her soul was vexed within her at the things she 
 saw and heard within the sacred building. 
 
 Now at the risk of her life she was harbouring one Alexander 
 Gooch, of Woodbridge, a weaver who for his refusal to admit that 
 the Pope was supreme head of the Church, as also to receive the 
 mass, was obliged to fly from his home and remain in hiding. 
 
 But the Justice had succeeded in tracking him out, and 
 to-day the village of Grundisburgh was thrown into a state of 
 unwonted excitement, by the arrival of Noone himself, with a 
 body of men in search of the fugitive. 
 
 Alice Driver, too, knew that her time had come, so together 
 they left the house and made for the fields, hoping to elude 
 their pursuers. 
 
 There was not much time in which to decide upon the 
 best hiding-place, but an *' hay-golph " seemed to afford a likely 
 
A ploughman's daughter. 93' 
 
 place of concealment. Into this they stepped, and drawing the 
 hay over them awaited the approach of their enemies. 
 
 Presently voices were heard in the field eagerly discussing 
 their possible whereabouts, and breathless with . apprehension the 
 two lay as quietly as the beating of their poor hearts would 
 admit. But these were ungentle days when rough and ready 
 methods were resorted to. No matter though one of the fugitives 
 is a woman, a pitchfork would do the work of searching most 
 thoroughly, so the hay is ruthlessly stabbed, and the iron point 
 finds the tender victims. 
 
 And now it is good-bye to the village home at Grundisburgh, 
 for Alice Driver has made her choice. Those pleasant uplands 
 where the corn waves, and the blue bean fields pour out their 
 fragrance into the evening air will know the ploughman's 
 daughter no more, for she is going on a long journey, a journey 
 from which there will be no returning. 
 
 We try to follow in thought the sad procession as the two 
 captives are taken from Grundisburgh. Did the village people peep 
 fearfully from behind their lattices, afraid to show any sympathy 
 with the sufferers, but indignant at the cruelties being practised in 
 the name of religion ? 
 
 There are many questions that we should like to ask, but we 
 cannot catch the answers through the long distance of years. 
 Where was Alice Driver's husband when the poor woman was 
 captured ? We hear nothing of him, either at this time or afterwards, 
 and it is probable that he either did not share his wife's convictions 
 or had not the courage to face the consequences of a confession of 
 them. 
 
 In the ancient church register at Grundisburgh, which, with 
 the kind help of the Vicar, I searched for Driver's name, the 
 following entry, among the burial records, seems to tell its own 
 tale : — 
 
 "1565. Edward Driver buryed 13 (?) January. 
 
 A. O. pd. 
 
94 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 We cannot positively say that this man was Alice Driver's 
 husband, but, as the date of his decease was only seven years 
 after her martyrdom, we may reasonably suppose this to have been 
 the case. The family of Driver still continues to exist in 
 Grundisburgh, and the name will be found scattered at intervals 
 throughout the church records. 
 
 But to return to the two captives, who had taken their farewell 
 of the village, and started on the ride to Melton. Here they were 
 imprisoned in the gaol, where they remained for a time, and were 
 afterwards carried to Bury, to attend the Assize of St. James' s-tide. 
 
 It must be acknowledged that Agnes Driver showed more spirit 
 and wit than meekness during her trial, both at Bury, and 
 afterwards at Ipswich. A woman of extraordinary courage, she 
 faced her judges and answered their accusations unmindful of 
 consequences. In days when a word uttered against the Sovereign 
 was promptly met with punishment, she dared to liken Queen 
 Mary, the persecutor, to Jezebel, for which offence Sir Clement 
 Higham immediately ordered that her ears should be cut off. 
 To this she joyfully assented, and thus mutilated, but unsubdued, 
 she was carried back to Melton Gaol. 
 
 We need not attempt to defend every detail in the behaviour 
 of this poor woman. Throughout her trial, and to the very end, 
 a strong personality made itself evident. She could smile as she 
 afterwards entered the judgment hall at Ipswich to be examined 
 by Dr. Spenser, Chancellor of Norwich, so that he greeted her 
 with the words, " Why, woman, dost thou laugh us to scorn ? " 
 To which she made quick reply, " Whether I do or no, I might 
 well enough, to see what fools ye be." 
 
 It was useless to try and entrap her into making a confession 
 that should be afterwards used against her, and when the Chancellor 
 asked her why she had been laid in prison she did not help him 
 by the ready answer, '* Wherefore ? I think I need not tell you, 
 for ye know it better than I." To which Spenser, somewhat taken 
 aback, replied, " No, by my troth woman, I know not why." 
 
A PLOUGHMAN S DAUGHTER. 95 
 
 "Then have ye done much wrong," quoth she, *' thus to imprison 
 me, and know no cause why ; for I know no evil that I have 
 done, I thank God, and I hope there is no man that can accuse 
 me of any notorious fact that I have done justly." 
 
 Finding- it difficult to be even with this clever country-woman, 
 the Chancellor plunged at once into the religious controversy and 
 demanded : " What sayest thou to the Blessed Sacrament of the 
 altar? Dost thou believe that it is very flesh and blood after 
 the words be spoken of consecration ? " 
 
 Then followed a long silence. All the multitude gazing at 
 the ploughman's daughter saw her stand with resolute countenance 
 and lips sealed. 
 
 This was too much for ** a great chuff-headed priest who 
 stood by." Probably thinking that either she could find no 
 answer, or if hurried into speech, would commit herself at once, 
 he urged her to answer the Chancellor. But it would have been 
 well for him if he had not interfered, for, looking at him austerely, 
 she administered this rebuke : " Why, priest, I came not to talk 
 with thee, but I came to talk with thy master, but if thou wilt 
 I shall talk with thee, command thy master to hold his peace." 
 
 Perhaps this unexpected rejoinder provoked the by-standers 
 to mirth. At any rate the chronicler tells us that ** with that 
 the priest put his nose in his cap and spake never a word again." 
 
 But it was not for lack of words that Alice Driver held her 
 peace. She only wished to emphasize her astonishment that such 
 a question could be asked, and when the Chancellor again pressed 
 her for a reply, she calmly said, ** Sir, pardon me though I make 
 no answer, for I cannot tell what you mean thereby, for in all 
 my life I never heard nor read of any such Sacrament in all the 
 Scripture." 
 
 "Why, what Scriptures have you read?" asked Spenser. 
 
 •' I have (I thank God) read God's Book," replied the woman. 
 
 To which the Chancellor quickly responded. *' Why, what 
 manner of book is that you call God's Book ? " 
 
9^ SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 "It is the Old and New Testament. What call you It?" 
 questioned Alice In her turn. 
 
 Spenser being obliged to admit that this Indeed was God's 
 Word, she then continued to interrogate her judge, and to such 
 purpose that the words of this simple woman may with profit be 
 recorded. 
 
 "That same book have I read throughout," she said, "but 
 yet never could find any such Sacrament there ; and for that cause 
 I cannot make answer to that thing I know not. Notwithstanding 
 for all, I will grant you a Sacrament, called the Lord's Supper, 
 and therefore seeing I have granted you a Sacrament, I pray you 
 show me what a Sacrament is." 
 
 " It is a sign," replied Spenser, whereupon Dr. Gascolgne, 
 who was standing by, " confirmed the same, that it was a sign of 
 a holy thing." 
 
 "You have said the truth, sir," said she, "It Is a sign indeed, 
 and I must needs grant it ; and therefore seeing it Is a sign, it 
 cannot be the thing signified also. Thus far we agree, for I have 
 granted you your own saying." 
 
 It is impossible in this short account to give further particulars 
 of the trial, but we may well regard with astonishment the wisdom 
 displayed by this unlettered daughter of the people. For herself, 
 she rightly attributed the readiness of her replies to the direct 
 intervention of the Holy Spirit, and we cannot do better than to give 
 her own words uttered just before the sentence of condemnation 
 was passed upon her. 
 
 There had been a short pause in the proceedings, for one by 
 c-ne her adversaries had been put to shame by the ready wit that 
 met every question directed against her, and now she spoke for the 
 last time. 
 
 " Have you any more to say ? God be honoured. You be not 
 able to resist the Spirit of God in me, a poor woman. I am an 
 honest poor man's daughter, never brought up in the University, 
 as you have been, but I have driven the plough before my 
 
 V 
 
A PLOUGHMAN S DAUGHTER. 97 
 
 father many a time (I thank God) ; yet, notwithstanding, in the 
 defence of God's truth, and in the cause of my Master Christ, 
 by His grace I will set my foot against the foot of any of 
 you all, in the maintenance and defence of the same, and if I 
 had a thousand lives, they should go for payment thereof." 
 
 On the 4th of November, 1558, at seven o'clock in the 
 morning, Alexander Gooch, of Woodbridge, and Alice Driver, of 
 Grundisburgh, were taken to the Cornhill, Ipswich, where the stake 
 was set up for their burning. 
 
 Amongst the multitudes that thronged the place even at that 
 early hour, were many whose sympathies were with the victims, 
 and demonstrations of affection and pity helped to encourage them in 
 their last hour of agony. Kneeling upon a broom faggot, they offered 
 their simple prayers to God, and sang Psalms together till one of the 
 bailiffs, Richard Smart by name, roughly bade them "have done." 
 
 In vain they appealed for further time in which to prepare for 
 the solemn hour. Doubtless fearing the effects of such scenes upon 
 the multitude. Sir Henry Dowell, the Sheriff, thereupon commanded 
 that they should be tied to the stake. As the heavy iron chain 
 was fastened about Alice Driver's neck, once more the heroic spirit 
 of the woman made itself evident, and her last recorded words are 
 eminently characteristic : — " Oh ! " she said, " Here is a goodly 
 neckerchief; blessed be God for it." 
 
 At this divers came, and shook them by the hands, much 
 to the annoyance of the Sheriff, who ordered that they should be 
 arrested, whereupon so many others hastily ran to the stake that 
 the Sheriff was obliged to leave them all alone. 
 
 Then a light was set to the twigs, and the cruel heat of the<; 
 kindling fire began to make itself felt. First it devoured the 
 broom, and then the faggots, and finally seemed unwillingly to play 
 about the unwonted fuel that it was presently to consume. 
 
 But even flesh and blood could not long resist the persistent 
 leap of those red tongues of flame, that licked and scorched the 
 tender flesh, and blackened the faces of the young martyrs. 
 
98 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 At last it was over, and the crowd moved away, and the 
 Cornhill resumed its ordinary aspect. Busy feet trod again the 
 sacred ground consecrated by the ashes of the dead. Busy minds 
 forgot too soon the lessons of that tragic scene, and as we pass 
 to-day over the spot, there is no memorial stone to remind us 
 that here a young weaver from Woodbridge, and a ploughman's 
 daughter from Grundisburgh, set us a noble example of that 
 faithfulness unto death, which has surely been rewarded with *' a 
 crown of life." 
 
Watch Ward and The Story of the 
 '"Old Coffee House." 
 
Watci) Wara 
 
 AND 
 
 Cbe Storp of tbe ** Old Coffee Bouse. 
 
 Although the theory of transmigration of souls from one organic 
 body to another has died out with the growth of education, it 
 is certainly still a theory that can be proved as regards inorganic 
 bodies of brick and mortar. 
 
 The same walls that have echoed to the voices of citizens 
 long since sleeping in our quiet churchyards, have received ever 
 fresh relays of occupants, varying as much in habit of life as 
 in natural temperament. 
 
 Perhaps, few houses in Ipswich have undergone greater 
 vicissitudes than the old house at the corner of Tower Street^ 
 now known as the Central Hall premises. From the domestic 
 to the commercial, from the grave to the gay, and again from 
 the educational to the social, almost every change has been 
 rung on the chimes of its life-history. 
 
 Here, first of all, a wealthy burgher displayed his taste in 
 the grand old gabled front, which formerly faced Tavern Street, 
 but was so ruthlessly cut away to widen the thoroughfare. In Mr. 
 Clyde's ** Illustrations of Old Ipswich " we learn much that is 
 interesting about one of the early owners of this house, and we 
 can even see the name of the good man and his wife carved 
 along the ornamental cornice of the old building in a picture 
 which is dated 1815. 
 
By kind permission of John Clyde. 
 
 "A WEALTHY BURGHRR DISPLAYED HIS TASTE IN THE GRAND OLD GABLED FRONT 
 WHICH FORMERLY FACED TAVERN STREET." 
 
WATCH WARD AND THE STORY OF THE " OLD COFFEE HOUSE. lOI 
 
 Henry and Dorcas Buckingham saw no occasion to be ashamed 
 of their name when they placed it in such a prominent position, 
 and what Httle we know of the character of this rich burgher 
 shows him to have been a worthy and useful member of the 
 community. Moreover, although his beautiful house was actually 
 in the parish of St. Lawrence, he attended the Church of St. 
 Mary-at-the-Tower, and in 1608 became a churchwarden of an 
 eminently industrious and generous type. 
 
 It is pleasant to read of the spiritual activity that 
 distinguished the services at St. Mary's Church. Sunday 
 after Sunday crowds of earnest worshippers were to be seen 
 thronging from all parts of the town to the sacred edifice ; so 
 many, indeed, that at length the accommodation was not sufficient 
 for them. And the magic that drew such a multitude was the 
 fervent eloquence of the preacher, Samuel Ward, who could not 
 be hampered by the limits of written sermons, but whose soul- 
 stirring words flowed in extempore power from lips touched by 
 live coals from off the altar. 
 
 As to the chief burden of his discourses we can gather, 
 perhaps, from the affectionately-familiar name "Watch Ward," by 
 which he was known. 
 
 When we consider the times in which this man lived, and the 
 stormy conflicts through which the Church was still passing, we 
 can get some vague idea of the condition of the mind of his 
 listeners, for when Henry Buckingham became warden of the 
 Church, Queen Elizabeth had been dead but five years, and the 
 ''wisest fool in Christendom" was at the head of affairs in 
 England. 
 
 Only three years before the time of which we speak. Gunpowder 
 Plot had startled the Protestant world into a renewed sense of 
 insecurity, and created a fresh outburst of Puritan zeal. The 
 bulk of the nobles, and almost all the wealthy traders, were 
 now of this persuasion. 
 
 It was plainly to be seen in their manners, their dress, and 
 
I02 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 their general behaviour. Even their very conversation was 
 tinctured with the prevaiHng religiousness, and Scripture allusions 
 fell from their lips in the ordinary language of every day. So 
 far Puritanism was at its best. The Bible was never so eagerly 
 studied or its precepts more carefully followed. But, alas ! 
 persecution was soon to harden the Puritan character. From a 
 conscientious zealot, he would presently become an unsparing 
 censor, too narrow and rigid of belief to be able fairly to see 
 from any point of view but his own. 
 
 Nevertheless, at the time of which we speak personal and 
 practical religion was at high water mark in the Protestant 
 Church, and it is impossible not to admire the striking vitality 
 that characterised much of the preaching of the period. 
 
 King James might amuse himself by drawing up a " Book 
 of Sports," in which he authorised and encouraged his people 
 to indulge in all sorts of amusements, such as dancing and 
 archery after Divine service on Sundays, but "Watch Ward" 
 continued his pious exhortations in St. Mary's Church ; and 
 presently, when an organised persecution of the Puritans, resulting 
 finally in the emigration of the Pilgrim Fathers, made it difficult 
 and even dangerous to be true to conscience, such men as the 
 Ipswich minister were not to be daunted, but continued their 
 stedfast labours. 
 
 At last the congregation grew so prodigiously that it was 
 necessary to build a gallery on the North side of the Church 
 for the greater accommodation of the worshippers. It was Henry 
 Buckingham and his brother churchwarden, Mr. George Raymond, 
 who came to the rescue and erected a gallery at their own 
 cost, repaying the outlay by receiving the seat rents themselves. 
 It is sad to know that this zealous work was brought to an end 
 by an order from the Star Chamber, then in the zenith of its 
 power. Archbishop Laud had no sooner come into the See of 
 Canterbury than he proceeded vigorously to attack the Puritan 
 
WATCH WARD AND THE STORY OF THE ** OLD COFFEE HOUSE. IO3 
 
 ministers, and under this persecution Mr. Ward was punished 
 
 and suspended. 
 
 * * * « # 
 
 With such gleanings from history we are able again, as it 
 were, to re-soul the old house in Tower Street, and it is a 
 pleasure to think that the earliest occupant of whom we have 
 any record, was a God-fearing man, and an earnest church-worker. 
 But this is only the first stage in the history of the building. 
 
 By 1689 it had lost its private character, and had become 
 a *' Coffee House." Now a new soul enters the place, and it is 
 the resort of the quieter public who, in the words of Mr. Glyde, 
 "sipped their favourite beverage, and at times refreshed themselves 
 with a nap over the dull journals of the day." 
 
 It formed a pleasant "lounging place for gossip," and here 
 the news of the town was circulated and discussed by men 
 whose heads were clear enough to form wise judgments. At 
 this time the Corporation was very strict indeed in its care of 
 the public morals, and "so jealously was the liquor trade watched, 
 that no tradesman selling wine or liquors was eligible for the 
 office of Bailiff." This being the case, the old Coffee House 
 had a fair chance of succeeding, and it was still used for the 
 same purpose when 78 years afterwards it was offered for sale, 
 being then known as " Dod's Coffee House." 
 
 But some time before it changed hands the character of the 
 house had undergone considerable alteration. Anyone passing 
 down Tower Lane of an evening might occasionally have heard 
 the rhythmic beat of hundreds of flying feet, chasing away the 
 hours to the measure of gay music, for George IV. was but eight 
 years old, when a large assembly room was added to the attractions 
 of the Coffee House. 
 
 This quaint hall, with its highly-decorated walls and interesting 
 ceiling, is well worth a visit of inspection. Here the wealth 
 and beauty of Ipswich disported themselves at the big county 
 balls, and later on the royal feet of George, Prince of Wales, 
 
I04 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 pressed the boards, but hardly, perhaps, added any intrinsic 
 value to them. For the " first gentleman in Europe," for all 
 his fine clothes, was not a model to be copied with too great 
 exactness. 
 
 Later on the house was known as Alderson's Coffee House, 
 and again as Prigg's Coffee House, and finally the Assembly-room 
 became the Reading-room of the Working Men's College, an 
 institution which did a noble work in Ipswich for upwards of 
 30 years. As to the date of the original structure it has been 
 assigned to the middle of the i6th century. 
 
 We cannot draw this slight sketch to an end without some 
 allusion to the splendid carved corner-post which once existed, 
 and was the great glory of the house. Among the numerous 
 half-sized figures carved upon it, "Faith, Hope and Charity" 
 were represented by three female figures, bearing in their arms 
 respectively a cross, an anchor, and a young child, while 
 considerably above them, and balancing these milder attributes, 
 the sturdy representations of "Fortitude, Vigilance and Courage" 
 suggested a happy union of masculine and feminine virtues. 
 
 So much for the past history of the premises now known as 
 the Excelsior Working Men's Club. Once more a new soul has 
 entered into the ancient habitation, but it is to be hoped that 
 the spirit of that early occupier, Henry Buckingham, may still 
 hover over the old domain, and inspire the manhood of Ipswich 
 with his own robust qualities of " Fortitude, Viligance and 
 Courage." 
 
 The following are a few quotations from a sermon entitled : 
 "Woe to Drunkards," by Mr. Samuel Ward, preached in St. 
 Mary-le-Tower Church. They are taken from a collection printed 
 in 1636, which was formerly in the possession of Mr. William 
 Brown of Ipswich. 
 
 " Now, then I appeale from your selves in drinke, to your 
 selves in your sober fits. Reason a little the case, and tell me 
 calmly, would you for your owne, or any man's pleasure, to 
 
WATCH WARD AND THE STORY OF THE " OLD COFFEE HOUSE. IO5 
 
 gratifie friend or companion, if you knew there had beene a 
 toad in the winepot (as twice I have knowne happened to the 
 death of drinkers) or did you thinke that some Caesar Borgia, 
 or Brasutus had tempered the cup; or did you see but a Spider 
 in the glasse, would you, or durst you carouse it off? And are 
 you so simple to feare the poyson that can kill the body, and 
 not that which killeth the soule and body ever, yea for ever 
 and ever, and if it were possible for more than for ever for 
 evermore? O thou vaine fellow, what tellest thou mee of 
 friendship, or good fellowship, wilt thou account him thy friend 
 or good fellow, that drawes thee into his company, that hee 
 may poyson thee? and never thinkes he hath given thee right 
 entertainment, or shewed thee kindnesse enough, till he hath 
 killed thy soule with his kindnesse and with beere made thy 
 body a carkasse fit for the Biere, a laughing and loathing-stocke, 
 not to Boyes and Girles alone, but to men and Angels. Why 
 rather sayest thou not to such. What have I to do with you, ye 
 Sons of Belial, yee poysonfull generation of Vipers, that hunt for 
 the precious life of a man ? " 
 
 " Who sees and knowes not, that some one needlessse Ale-house 
 in a countrey towne, undoes all the rest of the houses in it, 
 eating up the thrift and fruit of their labours ; the ill manner of 
 sundry places, being there to meet in some one night of the 
 weeke, and spend what they have gathered and spared all the 
 dayes of the same before, to the prejustice of their poore wives 
 and children at home ; and upon the Lord's day (after Evening 
 Prayers) there to quench and drowne all the good lessons they 
 have heard that day at Church. If this goe on, what shall 
 become of us in time ? If woe be to single drunkards, is no 
 Nationall woe to bee feared and expected of a Nation overrun 
 with drunkennesse ? " 
 
 On the fly-leaf of the book, ornamented by illustrations of 
 two beacon lights is the following verse : — 
 
I06 SUFFOLK MARTYRS. 
 
 " Watch, Ward and keepe thy Garments tight, 
 For I come Thief-like at Midnight. 
 All-seeing, never slumbering Lord ; 
 Be thou my Watch, He be thy Ward." 
 From the Suffolk Garland we learn that this good minister 
 was buried " in the chancel of the Church of St. Mary-le-Tower, 
 in which, on a flat stone was the following inscription to his 
 memory :* 
 
 "Watch Ward ' 
 
 Yet a little 
 
 While for He that shall 
 
 come will come." 
 
 ♦This stone was removed during the restoration of the Church. 
 
APPENDIX A. 
 
 I have not attempted in this short account of some^ of our 
 local martyrs to enumerate all those who suffered for the faith, 
 enduring persecution or death, in this county. . 
 
 There still remain many whose names are more or less 
 familiar, and whose histories have yet to be written. Among them 
 are the following : — 
 
 John Fortune, a blacksmith of 
 Hintleshara. 
 
 " He either died in prison or was 
 made away with privately, for 
 after the term of persecution 
 ceased he was nowhere to be 
 found." 
 
 Roger Bernard, a labourer of Framsden. 
 " Burned at Bury." 
 
 Adam Foster of Mendlesham. 
 " Burned at Bury." 
 
 W. Seaman, husbandman, Mendlesham. 
 
 " Burned in the Lollard's pit at 
 Norwich." 
 
 W. Seaman's Mother. 
 
 " Compelled to hide all day in the 
 fields. She died of cold and 
 want." 
 
 Robert Lawson, weaver, of Stow. 
 " Burned at Bury." 
 
 J. Noyes of Laxfield. 
 
 " Burned at Laxfield." 
 
 Mother Benet of Wetheringset. 
 
 " Obliged to hide in the fields. 
 Died of cold and want." 
 
 J. CORKE. 
 
 " Burned at Bury." 
 
 R. Miles. 
 
 " Burned at Bury." 
 
 A. Lane. 
 
 " Burned at Bury." 
 
 J. Ashley. 
 
 " Burned at Bury." 
 
 John Tudson of Ipswich. 
 " Burned at London." 
 
 A. Shearman. 
 
 " Burned at Yoxford." 
 
 Thomas Cob, butcher, of Haverhill. 
 " Burned at Thetford." 
 
 William Allen, labourer, of Walsingham. 
 " Burned at Walsingham." 
 
 Roger Coo, an aged man and full of 
 faith. 
 
 " Burned at Yoxford." 
 
 Thomas Spicer of Winston. 
 " Burned at Beccles." 
 
 J. Denny. 
 
 " Burned at Beccles." 
 
 E. Poole. 
 
 ** Burned at Beccles." 
 
 Mrs. Alice Twaites, gentlewoman of 
 three score years. 
 
 " Persecuted and driven from 
 Winston." 
 
 Two of Mrs. Twaites' Servants. 
 
 " Persecuted and driven from 
 Winston," 
 
John Cooke of Stoke-by-Nayland, 
 Sawyer. 
 
 Alex. Hank of Stoke-by-Nayland. 
 
 jocob asp.i^ee. 
 
 Robert Myles. 
 
 Edmund Foster of Mendlesham. 
 " Condemned." 
 
 Robert Sampson of Mendlesham. 
 " Condemned." 
 
 Thos. Spurdmore of Crowfield. 
 " Condemned." 
 
 Elizabeth Sampson of Bedfield. 
 " Condemned." 
 
 Ann Bolton of Ipswiche. 
 
 " Condemned to be burnt." 
 
 John Trunchfielde of St. Leonard, 
 Ipswiche. 
 
 " Condemned to be burnt." 
 
 Mich. Trunchfielde of St. Leonard, 
 Ipswiche. 
 
 " Condemned to be burnt." 
 
 Roger Comes of Long Melford. 
 " Condemned to be burnt." 
 
 William Allen, labourer, of Somerton. 
 " Condemned to be burnt." 
 
 These three were burned only a fortnight 
 before Queen Mary's death. 
 
 P. Humphrey. 
 
 '* Burned at Bury." 
 
 J. David. 
 
 " Burned at Bury." 
 
 H. David. 
 
 *' Burned at Bury." 
 
 Wm. Browne, Parson of Little Stonham. 
 " Imprisoned, &c." 
 
 N. Peke of Ipswiche. 
 
 " Burned at Ipswich." 
 
 This List is mainly taken from Hollingsworth's " History of Stowmarket." The Historian extracted 
 many of them from volumes of original papers belonging to Foxe, now in the British Museum. 
 
 The following were all driven from 
 Winston. Some imprisoned, some 
 beggared, and others burned. 
 
 H. Smith and his Wife. 
 W. Catchpole and his Wife. 
 J. Mauling and his Wife. 
 Wm. Buckingham (or Burlingham ?) 
 and his Wife. 
 
 One Bright (or Rought ?) and his 
 Wife. 
 
 The following were all of Mendlesham. 
 Some were imprisoned, others 
 beggared and compelled to be 
 vagabonds, and others burned. 
 
 Simon Harleston, his Wife, and Five 
 Children. 
 
 W. Whiting and his Wife. 
 
 T. DoBSON and his Wife. 
 
 T. Hubbard and his Wife. 
 
 J. DoNCON, Wife, and Maid. 
 
 W. DONCON. 
 
 T. Woodward, the elder. 
 One Kenneld's Wife. 
 A Poor Widow. 
 Mother Semon's Maid. 
 
 Thos. Parret. 
 
 " Burned at Bury." 
 
 Martin Hunt. 
 
 " Burned at Bury." 
 
 J. Norice. 
 
 " Burned at Bury." 
 
 James Abbes of Stoke-by-Nayland. 
 " Died at the Stake." 
 
 The following nine pirsons were all 
 examined at Bury and affirmed that 
 there was no bodily presence in the 
 Sacrament. Presumably martyred. 
 
 Edmund Pole of Needham. 
 
 John Dennye of Soham. 
 
 Margaret Chester of Thwaite. 
 
 Two Men from Bedfield. 
 
APPENDIX B. 
 
 Among the large collection of Foxe's original papers in the 
 British Museum I find the following letters in his own handwriting : 
 
 "Draught of a letter from John Foxe in behalf of two learned and godly 
 strangers." 
 
 " Draught of a letter from John Foxe, to the Archbishop of York (as it seems), in 
 behalf of Henkey." 
 
 "Draught of a letter of Mr. John Foxe to some friends, in behalf of a poor man 
 wronged by Stephen Bechyng." 
 
 " Part of a letter from Mr. John Foxe, to Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolke (to 
 whom he had formerly been tutor), dissuading him from marrying with the Queen 
 of Scots." 
 
 " Draught of a letter from Mr. John Foxe, to a noble person, exhorting him to 
 forgive- his wife, who now sincerely repented of her offence, Avhich was commonly 
 reputed unpardonable." 
 
 " Original letter of Mr. John Foxe, to a gentlewoman, recommending a very godly 
 gentleman, a friend of his, for a husband to her, though others made her greater offers." 
 
 " Draught of a letter to Queen Elizabeth," &c., &c. 
 
 Of letters received by Foxe many of the originals are among 
 this collection, I cull from them the following, which speak for 
 themselves as to his wide sympathies. 
 
 " Original letter of Tho. Dollman to Mr. Fox, desiring his assistance, being under 
 temptations and inclined to despair." 
 
 " Original letter of T. H. to Mr. Fox, desiring comfort as byinge wonderfully 
 appawlede to se no frewt to follow the herynge God's worde thys 20 yers, but that rathe^ 
 he waxsythe the worse and worse." 
 
 " Original letter of Will Punt to Mr. Fox, concerning the verification of a story in 
 the Martyrology, the truth of which was called in question." 
 
 " Part of a letter from one under temptation to blaspheme and requesting his 
 counsel thereupon." 
 
 Among the papers is also to be seen " A sermon made (at Hadleye in Suffolke) the 
 10 Feb., A.D., 1555, beynge the next day after that Doctor Taylor suffered; made by 
 the hext and new Parson (against Doctor Taylor his predecessor)." 
 
 APPENDIX C. 
 
 In the picture of the Tower of Hadleigh Deanery the windows of two chambers 
 will be seen above the doorway, the lower of these two rooms was Doctor Taylor's 
 library, and here he was sitting when he heard the church bells rung. 
 
 A brass to the Martyr's memory, engraved in black letters, is framed on the wall 
 of the N. transept of Hadleigh Church. It bears the date 1555, but is supposed to have 
 been placed in the Church early in Elizabeth's reign. 
 
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 Art Linen, Crown 8vo. Price i/- nett. Post Free, 1/3 
 
 Smiths, Publishers, Suitall, Ipswich. 
 
 DOLLY DO-NOTHING, 
 
 Ages S— 12, 
 
 By EVELYN R. GARRATT, 
 
 With Numerous Illustrations by A. L, Nunn. 
 
 Art Linen, Crown 8vo. Price i/- nett. Post Free, 1/3 
 
 Smiths, Publishers, Suitall, Ipswich. 
 
The Reliable Series of Books. 
 
 BERNARD LESLIE, 
 
 OR, 
 
 CONQUERED AT LAST, 
 
 Ages 14—25, 
 
 By LOUIE GRANVILLE SMITH, 
 
 With Illustrations by Ernest Smythe. 
 
 Price 2/- nett. Post Free, 2/4 
 
 Smiths, Publishers, Suitall, Ipswich. 
 
 FLUFF, 
 
 OR, 
 
 WHAT A LITTLE DOG DID, 
 By M. F. W., 
 
 Author of " When the Swallows come again," " Dolly," etc. 
 
 Art Linen, Crown 8vo., Price 1/6 nett. Post Free, 1/9 
 
 Smiths, Publishers, Suitall, Ipswich. 
 
 Library Binding of every Description a Specialite. 
 
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