Chapter VII (4)

After a while, the whole revolution will cease, and while many will become Catholics, others will return to indifference, and to greater torpidity than at the beginning. Already there are signs of division among the movers in the drama. They are not agreed on the question of quantity, some proposing to go much further Romeward than others are willing to follow. English Ritualists are dissatisfied with their American friends, and accuse them of cowardice or want of frankness. The bishops snub them at every opportunity, the powers of the state fall down upon them, and they cannot come to any settled conclusion what to do. In this country they can act as they like, untouched by civil authority, and yet the whole land can boast of only one or two churches where ceremonies are carried out according to the code. It is doubtful how long these churches can be supported on the voluntary principle. Our own judgment is, that a few years will see the end of a movement which ought to result in many conversions to the Catholic faith. If there were strict honesty among the leaders, we should be more hopeful; but when false statements are constantly made, and the "No Popery" cry is held up as a blind by even the advance-guard who wear chasubles and hear confessions, what encouragement have we for the future? It is so easy to retrace one's steps and to look unconscious of all harm if the tide of battle turns. We know of more than one bishop, and many ministers in the Episcopal Church, who have recanted their errors with more or less manliness, and are now in the surgeon's tent, far away from all danger. {837} The lawn-sleeves and the fair heritage have proved too much for their faith in things eternal. They who once were ready to accept all the decrees of Trent and utterly reject the articles of their own church, have become doctors of divinity, with large families of children, and the pangs of conscience have ceased. Monasteries well organized have been broken up by the marriage of nearly all the reverend monks, and communities of sisters have been seriously embarrassed by the drafts the clergy have made upon their number. We mention these facts in sorrow; for it is a sad proof of the inconsistency of man in matters of religion. Why should we expect any more from the Ritualists than we have realized from their cotemporaries or progenitors? Especially, when we behold among them a self-sufficiency and untruthfulness which have no parallel in ecclesiastical history, what shall we dare hope?

The Anglican communion can never be unprotestantized. It may in the course of time fall to pieces, and every living moment within its bosom will help its dissolution. As a body, it never can take any Catholic position, nor wash off the birthmarks which prove its parentage.

Those who really wish for a divine church and the rites which speak the old unchangeable faith, will come one by one "to the pillar and ground of truth." Having tried shadows long enough, being wearied by "playing at church," and tired of holding up a religion by their own strength, they will come where God hath established his covenant in Zion and his mercy in Jerusalem. No honest man can long hold the doctrine of the Real Presence and remain away from the altars where alone the Holy of Holies can be found. No man can seek to confess his sins and often kneel to one who is afraid to hear him openly, who presents at best a doubtful code of morals, and plays, like a foolish child, with tools whose proper use he knows not. The end will soon come. The Catholic Church would have perished long ago, if her life had not been the life of God, and no counterfeit of her august creed can survive the changes of time. Ritualism will pass away, and something else will take its place. The Holy Spirit of truth speaks through this movement to honest hearts who will hear and obey. Many are like the young man in the gospel, who went away from Christ because the sacrifice was too great. He was "not far from the kingdom of God," neither are our Ritualistic brethren far distant from the portals of the true Zion. God grant that they may be not unfaithful to the truth they know, nor lastingly unwilling in the day of the divine power.

----------

{838}

Ireland's Martyrs. [Footnote 292]

[Footnote 292: _Memorials of those who suffered for the
Catholic Faith in Ireland in the Sixteenth, Seventeenth, and
Eighteenth Centuries_. Collected and edited from the
original authorities.
By Myles O'Reilly, B.A., LL.D.
New York: Catholic Publication Society. 1869. 12mo, pp. 462.]

The Catholic Church in Ireland, oppressed from the days of the Norman invasion, became, from the time of Henry VIII., a living martyr; her sufferings having no parallel in Europe from the time of the three centuries of persecution under the Roman emperors. It was not so much the persecution and martyrdom of individuals so much as of a race and nation. Hence, while the _Acts of the Early Roman Martyrs_, formally drawn up, have long since been collected by Ruinart; while a Challoner, for England, collected records of the martyrs of the faith in his _Missionary Priests_, that all-absorbing favorite of our earliest days; while even the memorials of the missionary martyrs in our own land had been collected, no one seemed to think of selecting the records of Ireland's martyred priests from the harrowing tale of the suffering and unconquerably faithful people amid whom they perished.

It has been well that this pious task has at last been undertaken, and so well accomplished. This work of Mr. O'Reilly is a plain, unvarnished collection of contemporary accounts, with no attempt to make, from the simple details given, a graphic and affecting picture. Brief, too brief, indeed, many of these records are; but further researches, unexplored archives, correspondence not hitherto consulted, will, we trust, ere long, give more extended and edifying memorials of these faithful clergymen, these bishops, priests, secular and regular, of the Isle of Saints.

During much of the period of the great Irish persecution, during that long interval between 1540 and 1701 it was scarcely possible to draw up and send out of Ireland, much less preserve in it, extended accounts of the martyrdom of those who died for the faith. Research or inquiry into their births or early lives was out of the question.

The chief sources where we can now seek information as to these heroic men are the historical writings of the religious orders who labored in Ireland. Among the Franciscans, the great annalist of the order is Father Luke Wadding, an Irishman, who has preserved many valuable accounts relating to his native country. Colgan, another Irish writer of the same order, in the preface to the _Acta Sanctorum Hiberniae_, gives an account of the death of two of his literary associates, Fathers Fleming and Ward.

De Burgo, of the order of Preachers, published a well-known work, _Hibernia Dominicana_, devoted to the history of his order in Ireland.

The Jesuit, Father Tanner, in his _Societas Jesu Militans_, records the lives of many of his order who died for the faith in Ireland, and, in another work, not cited by our author, his _Mortes Illustres_, while treating of distinguished Irish members, enters into the persecutions of the church in their native land.

{839}

Then there were special works on the various persecutions: the _Relatio Persecutionis Hiberniae_, by Father Dominic a Rosario, published at Lisbon in 1655; Bruodin's _Propugnaculum Catholiae Veritatis_, issued at Prague in 1669; Bishop Rothe's _Analecta Sacra Nova et Mira de Rebus Catholicorum in Hibernia pro Fide et Religione Gestis_, published at Cologne, in 1617, under the assumed name of Philadelphus; and the _Processu Martyrialis_ of the same author, which appeared two years later; the _Persecutio Hiberniae_, 1619; Morrison's _Threnodia Hiberno-Catholica, sive Planctus Universalis totius Cleri et Populi Regni Hiberniae_, published at Innspruck, in 1659; and Carve's _Lyra_, Sulzbach, 1666, with other works of more general scope.

Besides these printed works, Mr. O'Reilly cites several manuscripts preserved in the Burgundian Library at Brussels--_Magna Supplicia_, written about 1600; an account of the martyrdom of Bishop Dovany in 1612; Mooney's account of the Franciscan Province in Ireland; and unpublished letters of Irish Jesuits.

The first blows at the Catholic Church in Ireland were struck under Henry VIII. at the monasteries; then came the intrusion of men, as bishops, who acknowledged that monster as head of the church, and the expulsion of those who refused to admit this new power in the crown. In the reign of his daughter Elizabeth came the doctrine that the sovereign, provided always, nevertheless, that he be not a Catholic, is not only head of the church, but empowered to make creeds and a ritual for worship. In a few reigns more came the doctrine that the Calvinists in a nation are the head of the church and state, may behead kings, make and unmake worships and creeds, and put to death all who gainsay them.

The persecution under Henry was comparatively bloodless; the plunder was too plentiful for men to stop to slay. Only one instance is recorded--that of the beheading of the guardian of the Franciscan convent at Monaghan, and of several of his friars; but we can scarcely credit that under so sanguinary a tyrant so little blood was shed in Ireland, where no scruple ever held back the English sword from slaughter, only a few Irish families or bloods being recognized as men whom to kill was murder.

England had her illustrious martyr, Cardinal John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester; Ireland in her hierarchy had an illustrious confessor in William Walsh, Bishop of Meath, a Cistercian, born at Dunboyne, and a monk in the Abbey of Bective, till its suppression.

"Whatever doubt there may be about the place of his birth and
his early history, there is none whatever as to his eminent
virtues, distinguished abilities, and the heroic fortitude with
which he bore numerous and prolonged sufferings for the faith.
His unbending orthodoxy and opposition to the innovations of
Henry VIII. and Edward VI. marked him out for promotion after
the accession of Mary, and accordingly we find him associated
with the zealous primate, Dr. Dowdall, in the commission to
drive from the sanctuary all such as were faithless to their
trust.

"Dr. Walsh was consecrated about the close of 1554, and
immediately applied himself with zeal and energy to reform
abuses, and to heal the wounds which during the last two reigns
had been inflicted on faith, morals, and discipline. The period
of his usefulness was, however, destined to be brief, and he
had time merely to stimulate his priests and to fortify his
diocese when the gathering storm burst over the Irish church,
and sacrificed the Bishop of Meath among its first and noblest
victims. Queen Mary died in 1558, and was succeeded by
Elizabeth, who at once publicly embraced the reformed tenets,
and proceeded to have them enforced on all. In 1560, an act was
passed, under the deputyship of the Earl of Suffolk, which
ordered all ecclesiastical persons, judges, officers, justices,
mayors, and all the other queen's officers, to take the oath of
supremacy under penalty of forfeiture, and also enacted that if
any person should, by writing, printing, teaching, preaching,
by express words, deed, or act, maintain any foreign spiritual
jurisdiction, he should for the first offence forfeit all his
goods and suffer one year's imprisonment, for the second
offence should incur the penalty of praemunire, and for the
third be deemed guilty of high treason."

{840}

He was first imprisoned in 1560, and after a brief respite, was, in 1565,

"reconducted to his former prison; this was 'a subterraneous
dungeon, damp and noisome--not a ray of light penetrated
thither; and for thirteen years this was his unvarying abode.'
During all that time his food was of the coarsest kind, and,
with the exception of rare intervals, when the intercession of
some influential friends obtained a momentary relaxation, he
was allowed no occupation that could cheer the tedium of his
imprisonment. In all this lengthened martyrdom, prayer was his
resource, and, as he himself subsequently avowed, he
often-times passed whole days and nights overwhelmed with
heavenly consolations, so that his dungeon seemed transformed
into a paradise of delights. To preclude the possibility of
idleness, he procured a bed made of twisted cords, and
whensoever his mind was fatigued with prayer, he applied
himself to untie those cords, and often was he well wearied
with the exertion before he could reunite them to compose
himself to sleep.

"His persecutors, overcome by his constancy, and finding his
fervor in spiritual contemplation a continual reproach to their
own wickedness, at length, about Christmas, 1572, connived at
his escape."

Reaching the continent, he died at Alcala, in 1577, bearing to the grave the marks of his thirteen years' imprisonment.

Next in importance among the sufferers for the faith was a most remarkable man, David Wolf, a native of Limerick, a priest of the Society of Jesus, whose labors, perils, sufferings of every kind, while acting as nuncio to the Pope in Ireland from 1560 to 1578, form the matter for a most interesting volume--not only from the personal interest attaching to a man of his ability, learning, and courage, but from the influence exercised by him in perpetuating the episcopacy, and, consequently, the priesthood and the faith in Ireland. The first martyr of whom we have any details is the Franciscan, Daniel O'Duillian, of the convent of Youghal, put to death in 1569. Indictment, trial, judge, or jury seem to have had no part in his cause. Father Mooney thus describes his death as he obtained authentic information within fifty years after its occurrence:

"When one Captain Dudal (probably Dowdall) with his troop were
torturing him, by order of Lord Arthur Grey, the viceroy, first
they took him to the gate which is called Trinity Gate, and
tied his hands behind his back, and, having fastened heavy
stones to his feet, thrice pulled him up with ropes from the
earth to the top of the tower, and left him hanging there for a
space. At length, after many insults and tortures, he was hung
with his head down and his feet in the air, at the mill near
the monastery; and, hanging there a long time, while he lived
he never uttered an impatient word, but, like a good Christian,
incessantly repeated prayers, now aloud, now in a low voice. At
length the soldiers were ordered to shoot at him, as though he
were a target; but yet, that his sufferings might be the longer
and more cruel, they might not aim at his head or heart, but as
much as they pleased at any other part of his body. After he
had received many balls, one, with a cruel mercy, loaded his
gun with two balls and shot him through the heart. Thus did he
receive the glorious crown of martyrdom the 22d of April, in
the year aforesaid."

Similar disregard of all law and forms of justice appears in the terrible martyrdom of the Franciscan Father O'Dowd, who died like Sir John Nepomucen, a martyr of the seal of confession.

With some other prisoners, he fell, in 1577, into the hands of the soldiers of Felton, then president of Connaught.

{841}

"They pressed a certain secular, who was one of their captives,
to tell them something of the plots which they said he had made
with others against the queen of England; but he protested he
could tell nothing but the truth, and that there were no plots;
so they determined to hang him. When they said this, he begged
he might be allowed to make his confession to Father O'Dowd;
this they granted the more readily that they thought the
priest, if he were tortured, would reveal what might be told
him. As soon as the confession was over, the secular was hung;
and then they asked the priest, who was also to be hung, if he
had learned aught of the business in confession. He answered in
the negative, and, refusing to reveal anything of a confession,
they offered him life and freedom if he would reveal, and
threatened torture if he refused. He answered he could not, and
they immediately knotted a cord round his forehead, and,
thrusting a piece of wood through it, slowly twisted it so
tightly that at length, after enduring this torment for a long
time, his skull was broken in, and, the brain being crushed, he
died, June 9th, 1577."

Father Mooney recorded this horrid statement from the lips of some of the very soldiery who perpetrated it.

When Dr. Patrick O'Hely, Bishop of Mayo, and his companion, Father Cornelius O'Rorke, were arrested in the County Kerry, soon after landing, they were loaded with chains and imprisoned in Limerick till Sir William Drury arrived.

"The two prisoners were first placed on the rack, their arms
and feet were beaten with hammers, so that their thigh-bones
were broken, and sharp iron points and needles were cruelly
thrust under their nails, which caused an extreme agony of
suffering. For a considerable time they were subjected to these
tortures, which the holy confessors bore patiently for the love
of Christ, mutually exhorting each other to constancy and
perseverance.

"At length they were taken from the rack, and hanged from the
branches of a neighboring tree. Their bodies were left
suspended there for fourteen days, and were used in the interim
as a target by the brutal soldiery."

Here began, it will be seen, a sort of process, or at least arraignment, torture, and execution; although anything like a trial is wanting.

But in the fearful deaths of Rev. Daniel O'Nielan, (March 28th, 1580,) Rev. Maurice Kinrehan, Rev. Maurice Scanlan, and his companions, [Footnote 293] in the same year, no pretence of examination was made; the soldiery either killing them on the spot, or wreaking on them any and every cruelty that wanton malignity could devise or suggest.

[Footnote 293: These three in 1580, and the three
Franciscans, of the same names, nearly and at the same places
in 1582, must be identical.]

In the case of the heroic Cistercian, Abbot of Boyle, Father Gelasius O'Quillenan, and his companions, arrested while in Dublin, in 1580, there was not the wanton cruelty of lawless soldiers, or the mere bloodthirstiness of officers accustomed to every barbarity. Here the action proceeded from the very highest English authority in Ireland, in the days of Lord Coke, who tells us in those legal treatises which have come down to us as oracles, that he never knew of torture having been used in England.

The abbot and his companions underwent preliminary examinations.

"John O'Garvin, then Protestant Dean of Christ Church, was
among those who assisted at his first interrogatory, and,
having proposed many inducements to the abbot 'to abandon the
popish creed,' Gelasius in reply, reproved him for preferring
the deceitful vanities of this world to the lasting joys of
eternity, and exhorted him 'to renounce the errors and iniquity
of heresy by which he had hitherto warred against God, and to
make amends for the past by joining with him in professing the
name of Christ, that he might thus become worthy to receive a
heavenly crown.' The holy abbot and his companion were then
subjected to torture, and, among their other sufferings, we
find it commemorated that their arms and legs were broken by
repeated blows, and fire was applied to their feet. The only
words of Gelasius during all this torture were, 'Though you
should offer me the princedom of England, I will not forfeit my
eternal reward.' Sentence of death being passed against them,
they were led out with all possible ignominy to execution.
They, however, were filled with consolation; the sight of the
joyous sufferers excited the admiration of the assembled
multitude, and many even of the heretics declared that they
were more like angels than men.
{842}
It was on the 21st November, 1580, that they were happily
crowned with martyrdom. The garments which they wore, and the
implements of their torture, were eagerly purchased by the
Catholics, and cherished by them with religious veneration."

Nor can it be said that in the use of torture thus used to wring from the Irish clergy admissions to justify their execution, the authorities in Dublin acted without the knowledge or consent of the queen. Any such pretext is at once scattered to the winds by English records in the case of one of the most illustrious martyrs in the whole honored list of Ireland's witnesses for the faith--Dermod O'Hurley, Archbishop of Cashel.

"The birthplace of this glorious martyr was a little village in
the diocese of Limerick, less than three miles from that city,
called Lycodoon, where his parents lived respectably by
farming, both of tillage and cattle; they were held in good
estimation by their neighbors, both rich and poor, especially
James Geraldine, Earl of Desmond.

"Having then been raised to the episcopacy by Gregory XIII.,
and named Archbishop of Cashel, he took his route toward
Ireland."

At Waterford he was detected by a Protestant named Baal, on whose information he was pursued to the Castle of Slane, where he had, indeed, taken refuge for a time, but had proceeded further. When Lord Slane found himself in danger, he joined in the pursuit of the archbishop, and, overtaking him at Carrick-on-Suir, induced him to proceed to Dublin, where his arrival is noted by Archbishop Loftus and Sir H. Wallop, in a letter to Robert Beale, temporary chief secretary to the queen, dated Oct. 8th, 1583, and still preserved in the Public Record Office in London. In a subsequent letter, on the 10th of December, addressed to Sir Francis Walsingham, they say: "Among other letters directed to us, and brought by this last passage, we received one from your honor declaring her Majesty's pleasure for the proceeding with Dr. Hurley by torture or any other severe manner of proceeding to gain his knowledge of all foreign practices against her majesty's state, wherein we _partly_ forebore to deal till now." Then they remark, "for that we want here either rack or other engine of torture to terrify him ... the Tower of London should be a better school than the Castle of Dublin ... we do wish that we had directions to send him thither."

The pretext here was shallow; there was wit enough in the dominant party in Ireland to invent any necessary racks. Walsingham evidently directed them to proceed in Dublin, and himself suggested the mode of torture. On the 7th of March, 1584, they again write, "We made commission to Mr. Waterhouse and Mr. Secretary Fenton to put him to the torture _such as your honor advised us_, which was, to toast his feet against the fire with hot boots." What these Walsingham boots were, we learn from contemporary statements taken down from eye-witnesses. "The executioners placed the archbishop's feet and calves in tin boots filled with oil; they then fastened his feet in wooden shackles or stocks, and placed fire under them. The boiling oil so penetrated the feet and legs that morsels of the skin and even flesh fell off and left the bone bare. The officer whose duty it was to preside over the torture, unused to such unheard-of suffering, and unable to look upon such an inhuman spectacle, or to hear the piteous cries of the innocent prelate, suddenly left his seat and quitted the place." (Pages 91-2.) All this failed to extort from him anything to justify his arraignment even, though the torture was continued till the executioners believed life extinct, and hastily endeavored to restore animation; for he "lost all voice and sense, and when taken out lay on the ground like dead." (Ib. 93.)

{843}

The lords justices were in great perplexity. The judges, on being consulted, had positively declared that, as no act of treason had been committed by him in Ireland, he could not by law be arraigned. Their opinion, still preserved in the Public Record Office, is given by our author, (p. 109.) Again they apply to Walsingham, and the whole passage is so curious that we cite it at length:

"And herein we thought good to remember your honor by way of
our opinion that, considering how _obstinate and wilful_
we find him every way, if he should be referred to a public
trial, his _impudent and clamorous_ denial might do great
harm to the ill-affected here, who in troth have no small
admiration of him. And yet, having had conference with some of
the best lawyers in the land, we find that they make a scruple
to arraign him here, for that his treasons were committed in
foreign parts, the statute in that behalf being not here as it
is in England. And therefore we think it not amiss (if it be
allowed of there) to have him executed by _martial law,
against which he can have no just challenge_, for that he
hath neither lands nor goods, and as by that way may be avoided
many harms, which by his presence, standing at ordinary trial,
and retaining still his former impudence and negative
protestations, he may do to the people."

The idea of any man impudently objecting to submit to the honor of being executed by martial law, when a trial at law must result in his acquittal, is indeed extraordinary, and sufficient to disquiet Christian rulers.

Elizabeth relieved them. A letter of April 29th, 1584, announced her majesty's resolution for the course to beholden with Hurley, namely, "that they should proceed to his execution (if it might be) by ordinary trial by law, or otherwise, by martial law."

Loftus and Wallop, accordingly, on the 19th of June, 1584, gave warrant to the knight-marshal in her majesty's name to do execution upon him." (Letter July 9th, 1584.)

Accordingly, on Friday before Trinity-Sunday, Hurley--whose wounds had been so skilfully treated by a Jesuit who was enabled to reach him, as to enable the holy sufferer to regain sufficient strength to sit up and even rest on his feet--was ordered to prepare for execution. He was taken out at early dawn, amid the cries of his fellow Catholic prisoners, proclaiming his innocence, one bishop, who was expiating in fetters a guilty pusillanimity, exclaiming that he himself, for the scandal he had given, deserved to die, but that the archbishop was an innocent and holy man. He was drawn on a hurdle through the garden gate to a wood near the city, and "there he was hanged on a withey, calling on God, and forgiving his torturers with all his heart." At evening his body was buried in the half-ruined church of St. Kevin. So great was the veneration felt for this holy man, that the church was restored to satisfy the devotion of those who flocked to the spot to recommend themselves to his prayers, and many of whom averred that miracles were wrought there.

Elizabeth and the ministers of her godless tyranny, in thus trampling on law and justice, had gained nothing toward the advancement of the new doctrines in Ireland. The death of Dr. Hurley but confirmed the Irish Catholics more immovably in the faith.

{844}

In another case, Dr. Richard Creagh, Archbishop of Armagh, who escaped from the Tower of London in 1565, but, after two years' labors in Ireland, was seized in Connaught in 1567, the government ventured on a trial at law; but the jury acquitted him. Little did this avail: he was kept a prisoner, but at last effected his escape, and, for a short time, labored to console the afflicted Catholics. Falling again into the hands of the persecutors, he was sent to England, and died of poison in the Tower of London, (Oct. 14th, 1585,) leaving one of the most venerated names in the annals of the Irish church. Another prelate, Murlagh O'Brien, Bishop of Emly, died the same year in prison, at Dublin, after undergoing tortures.

The interesting biography of another martyr, Rev. Maurice Kinrechtin, gives a picture of a Catholic Easter during these dark ages in Ireland that is too touching to omit. It is in a letter from Father Robert Rochfort:

'I send you an account of the glorious martyrdom of a friend of
mine, Maurice Kinrechtin, a pious priest, chaplain to the Earl
of Desmond, whom you know. He was for this cause taken prisoner
by the English, and taken to your native town of Clonmel, where
he lay in prison for more than a year. On the eve of Easter,
1585, Victor White, one of the principal citizens of Clonmel
and a pious Catholic, obtained from the head jailer permission
for the priest to pass the night in his house; this the jailer
agreed to, but secretly informed the President of Munster, an
English heretic, who chanced to be in the town, that, if he
wished, he might easily seize all the principal citizens while
hearing mass in the house of Mr. White at daybreak; at the same
time he bargained to be paid for his perfidy. At the hour
agreed on, the soldiers rushed into the house and seized on
Victor; but all the others, hearing the noise, tried to escape
by the back-doors and windows; a certain matron, trying to
escape, fell and broke her arm. The soldiers found the chalice
and other things for mass; they sought everywhere for the
priest, (who had not yet begun the mass,) and came at length to
a heap of straw, under which he lay hid, and, thrusting their
swords through it, wounded him in the thigh; but he preserved
silence, and, through fear of worse, concealed his suffering,
and soon after escaped from the town into the country. But the
intrepid Victor (who, although he had for this reason suffered
much, could never be induced to attend the conventicles of the
heretics) was thrown into prison because he would not give up
the priest, and would, no doubt, have been put to death, had
not Maurice, hearing of the danger of his friend, voluntarily
surrendered himself to the president, showing a friendship
truly Christian. The president upbraided him much, and, having
sentenced him to death, offered him his life if he would abjure
our Catholic faith and profess the queen to be head of the
church. There came to him also a preacher, and strove long, but
in vain, to seduce the martyr; nor would he on any account
betray any of those who had heard his mass, or to whom he had
at any time administered the sacraments. At length he was
dragged at the tail of a horse to the place of execution as a
traitor. Being come there, he devoutly and learnedly exhorted
the people to constancy in the faith. The executioner cut him
down from the gallows when yet half alive, and cut off his
sacred head, and the minister struck it in the face. Then the
Catholics by prayers and bribes obtained of the executioners
that they should not lacerate his body any further, and they
buried it as honorably as they could. Farewell, and peace in
the Lord, and be ye imitators--if occasion offers--of the
courageous Maurice Kinrechtin, and till then prepare your souls
for the trial. Your devoted servant, dated from the College of
St. Anthony, 1586, 20th March, Robert Rochfort."

Thus it went on during the reign of Elizabeth. The year 1588 witnessed many hanged, drawn, and quartered--the Rev. Peter Miller, at Wexford; Peter Meyler, at Galway, and Maurice Eustace--both candidates for the priesthood, the Franciscan fathers, O'Molloy, Dogherty, and Ferrall, at Abbeyleix. The next year another of the same order at Clonmel.

Curry, in his _Civil Wars in Ireland_, thus sums up other examples:

{845}

"John Stephens, priest, for that he said mass to Teague McHugh,
was hanged and quartered by the Lord Burroughs, in 1597; Thady
O'Boyle, guardian of the monastery of Donegal, was slain by the
English in his own monastery; six friars were slain in the
monastery of Moynihigan; John O'Calyhor and Bryan O'Trevor, of
the order of St. Bernard, were slain in their own monastery, De
Sancta Maria, in Ulster; as also Felimy O'Hara, a lay-brother;
so was AEneas Penny, parish priest of Killagh, slain at the
altar in his parish church there; Cahill McGoran; Rory
O'Donnellan; Peter McQuillan; Patrick O'Kenna; George Power,
vicar-general of the diocese of Ossory; Andrew Stritch, of
Limerick; Bryan O'Murihirtagh, vicar-general of the diocese of
Clonfert; Doroghow O'Molowny, of Thomond; John Kelly, of Louth;
Stephen Patrick, of Annaly; John Pillis, friar; Rory McHenlea;
Tirilagh McInisky, a lay-brother. All those that come after
AEneas Penny, together with Walter Fernan, priest, died in the
Castle of Dublin, either through hard usage and restraint or
the violence of torture."

To whom may be added the Rev. George Power; Rev. John Walsh; Bishop Brady, of Kilmore, and his companions, whose sufferings are here most touchingly given; the Rev. Donatus O'Mollony, so tortured by iron boots and thumbscrews, as well as the rack--of all which there was now, apparently, a full supply in Ireland--that he died a few hours after.

But single executions were not prompt enough. In 1602, the authorities intimated that such of the clergy as presented themselves to the magistrates would be allowed to take their departure from the kingdom. Forty-two, secular priests and fathers of the Dominican and Cistercian orders, believing that a Protestant government would keep faith with Catholics, accepted the offer, and assembling, as directed, at Inniscattery, were put on board a vessel of war to sail for France. But no sooner had they reached the broad Atlantic, than the whole of these priests were thrown overboard. On the return of the vessel to port, great indignation was pretended by the authorities, and the queen cashiered the officers; while they were, in fact, secretly rewarded.

This martyrdom, fearful for its treachery, and the number of the priestly victims, closed, so to say, the reign of bloody Elizabeth. The hatred of Catholicity was intense; but yet there was apparent from first to last, a sense of respect for the opinion of the Catholic powers, an attempt to justify the executions by color of law, or excuse them as unintended acts of severity in putting down revolts or conducting military operations.

When the son of Mary, herself a martyr and sufferer, ascended the throne, his accession was hailed by the Catholic Irish with a burst of joy. A prince of their own race, they could regard him with feelings never awakened by former sovereigns of England. The memory of his mother would have bound them to him. He might have rendered Ireland a happy country. Led away by this vision, the Irish Catholics openly celebrated the long proscribed worship; but they soon were rudely awakened from their delusion. The glorious army of martyrs under James I. begins with Redmond O'Gallagher, Bishop of Derry, hacked to pieces by a party of horse in 1604.

Among all the martyrs of this reign, however, the most illustrious was Cornelius O'Dovany, Bishop of Down and Connor, put to death at Dublin, February 1st, 1611. At an early age he embraced the rule of St. Francis, and became a model of piety and patience. Raised to the perilous dignity of the episcopate, he labored strenuously to fulfil its duties. At last, he was arrested and sent to Dublin Castle, where he nearly perished from want of food and of all comforts. As the persecutors admitted that they could not legally compass his death, he was at last released. But it was only for a time. Seizing as a pretext his presence in the district held by the Earl of Tyrone in his rising against the crown, they again, in June, 1611, committed him to his former prison. He was then brought to trial, and, although he pleaded the Act of Oblivion, which clearly covered his case, the government, grown wiser in its malice, packed a jury, and obtained a verdict.

{846}

Our author thus describes his martyrdom from contemporary narratives:

"The 1st of February, at four o'clock in the afternoon, he was
called to mount the cart which, surrounded by guards, stood at
the prison door. When the holy bishop came in sight of that
triumphal chariot, he sighed and said, 'My Lord Jesus, for my
sake, went on foot, bearing his cross, to the mountain where he
suffered; and must I be borne in a cart, as though unwilling to
die for him, when I would hasten with willing feet to that
glory? Would that I might bear my cross and hasten on my feet
to meet my Lord!' Turning to his fellow-sufferer, Patrick, he
said, 'Come, my brave comrade and worthy soldier of Christ, let
us imitate his death as best we may who was led to the
slaughter as a sheep before the shearer. Then bending down and
kissing the cart, he mounted up into it, and sat down with his
back to the horses, and was thus drawn through the paved
streets to the field where the gallows was erected.

"Cornelius, when he was come to the place of sacrifice, being
solicitous for the constancy of his colleague, begged that
Patrick might be put to death first; for he feared lest, by the
sight of his death and the wiles of the Calvinists, Patrick
might be induced to yield to human weakness. But as his wish
would not be granted, Father Patrick assured the bishop he
might lay aside all fear for him. 'Though,' said he, 'I would
desire to die first, and be strengthened in my agony by your
paternal charity, since we are given up to the will of others,
go, happy father, and fear not for my constancy; aid me by your
prayers with God, by whose help I am sure that neither death
nor life, nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor
things to come, nor any other creature, shall separate me from
the love of Christ, or from my companionship with you.'
Rejoiced at these words, Cornelius threw himself on his knees,
but had only breathed a hasty prayer (which yet reached God in
heaven) when the councillors, the captain and guard called out
to make an end quickly. The field, situated to the north of the
city, which would easily hold 3000 persons, was crowded. The
executioner was an Englishman and a Protestant, (for no
Irishman could be found who would stain himself with the blood
of the bishop,) who was condemned to death for robbery, and was
promised his life for acting as executioner on this occasion.
Yet, though he had thus purchased his life, he was touched with
reverence and compassion for the gray hairs of the bishop, and
prayed his pardon, and with trembling hands adjusted the noose.
The moment the bishop mounted the first step of the ladder, and
his head was seen above the crowd, a great shout and groans
burst from all the spectators.

"Then the minister Challoner, furious at the cries of pity
raised by the people, said to the bishop: 'Why delude ye the
ignorant people? Why end ye your life with a lie, and a vain
boast of martyrdom? Tell the multitude that ye are traitors,
and that it is for treason and not for religion ye suffer.' To
these unjust words the bishop answered: 'Far be it from us, who
are about to appear before the tribunal of Christ, to impose
upon the people. But also far be it from us to confess
ourselves guilty of crimes of which our conscience tells us we
are innocent. Nor yet do we vainly ambition the title of
martyrs, though for us to die for Christ is gain. You know that
you are yourself guilty of that prevarication of which you
accuse us; for but a few hours ago, sent as you said by the
viceroy, you offered us life and freedom if we would subscribe
to your heresy. Leave us, then, son of darkness, and calumniate
not our innocence.'

"Then the minister departed and left the martyrs in peace. As
they mounted the middle of the ladder, again there rose the cry
of the people; and a third time, when he was about to be thrown
off, the groans of those who beat their breasts rose louder
than before. Thrice he prayed, as he stood there: once for all
the bystanders; secondly, for the city of Dublin, and all the
Catholics of this kingdom, that they may serve God piously,
faithfully, and perseveringly; a third time he prayed for all
heretics, and for his persecutors, that they might be converted
from the evil of their ways.

"The Bishop's head was hardly cut off when an Irishman seized
it, and, rushing into the centre of the crowd, was never found,
although the viceroy offered a reward of forty pounds of
silver. The Catholics gathered up his blood, and contended for
his garments, despite the resistance of the soldiery.
{847}
The priest Patrick followed the same road, singing, as he
mounted the ladder, the canticle of Simeon, 'Now, O Lord!
dismiss thy servant in peace,' and, after the example of the
bishop, he prayed for the bystanders, blessed them, and
forgave all his enemies. The rope being put round his neck, he
hung for a short time, was then cut down half alive,
mutilated, and cut in pieces. The soldiers, warned by the loss
of the bishop's head, resisted the unarmed crowd, who strove
to catch the martyr's blood and other relics, and wounded
many. The day after, the bodies were buried at the gallows'
foot, but in the stillness of the night were removed by the
Catholics to a chapel."

We cannot enter on the other sufferers of this reign whose records are carefully collected in the _Memorials_.

The reign of Charles I. opens with the deeply interesting life of Francis Slingsby, showing how, even amid all the terrible persecutions of the church, God called his own elect to the light of his truth, and endowed them with firmness. He was a son of Sir Francis Slingsby, an English knight settled in Ireland, and was born in 1611. After being educated at Oxford, he travelled on the continent, and at Rome was converted to the faith; and, at the tomb of St. Aloysius, firmly resolved to enter the Society of Jesus. At the earnest entreaty of his father and mother, he returned to Ireland; but after an interview with Archbishop Usher and Lord Strafford, he was thrown into prison. Cardinal Barberini exerted his influence with the queen of England, and, in May, 1635, he was admitted to bail. His stay in Ireland was not fruitless; for he converted his mother, his younger brother, his sister, and several others. This increased his dangers, and, the General of the Society urging him to come at once to Rome, he proceeded thither in 1636; but learning that his friend Spreul, whom he had converted, and won to the order he himself had chosen, had been struck down by disease, he returned to Ireland, tended him in his illness, and then both reached Rome in 1639. Renouncing all his worldly prospects in favor of his brother, he began his studies, and, after his ordination, entered the novitiate of the Society of Jesus in 1641; but died at Naples before he could return to Ireland to labor in the field where his words, example, and fetters had preached so eloquently. The sketch of this heroic young man, and that of Maurice Eustace, son of Sir John Eustace, and a novice in the Society of Jesus, who, returning to his family by permission of his superiors, was seized, tried, hung, drawn, and quartered, on the 9th of June, 1588, form a most interesting addition to our biographies, and show us in Ireland, two young imitators of St. Aloysius and St. Stanislaus, whose virtues and example can be held up to the young with the power that flows from the fact that they lived among scenes and trials so familiar to us.

When the civil war began between the Puritans and Charles I., the persecution, bitter already under the king, became fiendish under the Parliament. Hitherto some form, some limit, had been observed; but the Puritans revelled in blood with all the ferocity of tigers, and with as little scruple.

"The Parliament of England resolved, on the 24th of October,
1644, 'that no quarter shall be given to any Irishman, or to
_ayn papist born in Ireland;_' and their historian,
Borlase, adds, 'The orders of Parliament were excellently well
executed.' (_Hist, of Rebellion_, p. 62.) Leland and
Warner refer to the letters of the lords-justices for the fact
that the soldiers 'slew all persons promiscuously, not sparing
even the women.' Cromwell declared on landing in Dublin that no
mercy should be shown to the Irish, and that they should be
dealt with as the Canaanites in Joshua's time. It is impossible
to estimate the number of Catholics slain in the ten years from
1642 to 1652. Three bishops and more than 300 priests were put
to death for the faith.
{848}
Thousands of men, women, and children were sold as slaves for
the West Indies; Sir W. Petty mentions that six thousand boys
and women were thus sold. (_Political Anatomy of
Ireland_, p. 187.) A letter written in 1656, quoted by
Lingard, puts the number at 60,000; as late as 1666 there were
12,000 Irish slaves scattered among the West Indian Islands.
(Letter of Rev. J. Grace, written in 1669, ap. Moran, p. 147.)
40,000 Irish Catholics fled to the continent, and 20,000 took
refuge in the Hebrides and other Scottish islands. (Moran, p.
99.) In a word, as Sir W. Petty writes, the population of
Ireland in 1641 was 1,466,000, of whom Catholics were about
1,240,000; in 1659, the whole population was only 500,091, of
whom Irish were only 420,000, so that very nearly or quite one
million must have perished. (Sir W. Petty, _Polit. Anat._
p. 13, ap. Moran, and Hardinge's _Census of 1659_.)"

In this general and fearful slaughter of priest and people, records were impossible; and of many of the priests and religious who perished no trace remains. At the sight of such appalling massacres the mind shrinks back to seek refuge in doubt; but that doubt vanishes before the records of the butchers, who, reeking with slaughter, asked mankind to admire their work as a mercy of God, and even in our day, their descendants ask us to praise them as champions of religious freedom.

We can scarcely be accused of being too severe in our language when Merle d'Aubigné, a professed eulogist of Cromwell, admits that he used "a greater severity than had perhaps been exercised by the pagan leaders of antiquity."

Although, necessarily, for many of their victims there are no details whatever, nevertheless nearly one-fourth of this whole work of Mr. O'Reilly is devoted to memorials of those who perished by the hands of the Puritans in the brief period of twenty years; and he might well close it by the formula at the end of each day in the Roman martyrology, _Et alibi aliorum plurimorum Martyrum et Confessorum_, etc.--"And elsewhere of many other martyrs and confessors," whose names, though unrecorded on earth, are written in the Book of Life. Cromwell, Ireton, Inchiquin, and Coote marked their path in blood. Drogheda, Wexford, Cashel, Limerick, witnessed general massacres, where neither age nor sex could rouse a spark of human feeling in the insatiate butchers. The intense and cruel fanaticism seems to have been either a diabolical possession or a mental disease.

A grandson of Sir Charles Coote, become Earl of Bellomont, was, some years after, made Governor of New York and of New England, and was strongly suspected of complicity in the piracies of Captain Kidd. He certainly showed the fierce anti-Catholic spirit of his father and grandsire, having introduced and forced through, both in New York and Massachusetts, laws to punish with imprisonment for life, or, on recapture, with death, any Catholic priest entering those colonies.

Among the more illustrious martyrs we notice the Most Rev. Malachy O'Queely, Archbishop of Tuam, who was overtaken at Clare, near Sligo, in 1645, by some Puritan cavalry. They hacked off his right arm, and then cruelly mangled his body, cutting it into small pieces. In 1650, Boetius Egan, Bishop of Ross, a holy Franciscan friar, appointed to that see in 1647, on the recommendation of the Nuncio, Rinuccini, left the retreat in which he had been hidden for months, to visit some distant and abandoned parts of his diocese, although Ludlow's Puritan bands were laying waste the country. After performing the apostolic duties that had called him forth, he was returning to his lonely hiding-place, when he was overtaken by a troop of horse hastening to join Cromwell in besieging Clonmel. {849} The commander of this troop, Lord Broghill, whom our readers may not recognize as Robert Boyle, subsequently Earl of Orrery, offered him life,

"If he would deny his faith and join the Parliamentarians, but
he rejected the temptation with disdain. He was then abandoned
to the soldiers' fury, and, his arms being first severed from
his body, he was dragged along the ground to a neighboring
tree, and, being hanged from one of its branches by the reins
of his own horse, happily consummated his earthly course in
November, 1650."

The fall of Limerick enabled Ireton to revel in the blood of Catholic priests. The martyrs were led by Terence Albert O'Brien, Bishop of Emly, born in Limerick in 1600, and nurtured piously by a devoted mother. At an early age he entered the order of St. Dominic, and, after pursuing his studies in Spain, returned to labor in his native city. In 1643, he became provincial of his order, and attended a general chapter at Rome. Four years afterward, he was consecrated Bishop of Emly, and labored there earnestly till he joined the rest who took refuge in Limerick.

"Knowing the fate that was reserved for him, Dr. O'Brien
retired to the pest-house, in order to devote the last hours of
his life to the benefit of his suffering fellow-citizens, and
to preparing himself for death. Here he was found by the
officers sent to arrest him, and brought before Ireton, who
told him he was to be tried by a court-martial, and imprisoned
till the sentence was pronounced. The bishop heard this
unmoved, and when asked did he want counsel, calmly replied
that all he required was his confessor. This boon was granted,
and Father Hanrahan, a member of his own order, was suffered to
pass the whole day and night of the 30th of October in his
prison. On the following evening he was led out to execution,
and, as Father Hanrahan related, walked as joyfully to the
place as to a feast. His contemporary, De Marinis, relates his
execution thus: 'He went with joy to the place of execution,
and then, with a serene countenance, turning to his Catholic
friends, who stood in the crowd inconsolable and weeping, he
said to them, "Hold firmly by your faith, and observe its
precepts; murmur not against the arrangements of God's
providence, and thus you will save your souls. Weep not at all
for me, but rather pray that in this last trial of death I may,
by firmness and constancy, attain my heavenly reward." The head
of the martyr was struck off and placed on a spike on the
tower,' ('which is on the middle of the bridge.'--_A
Rosario_,) 'and long after seemed to drop fresh blood, and
uncorrupted and unchanged in aspect, flesh, or hair--a tribute,
as may be thought, to that virginal purity which it is
universally believed he preserved to the end.' Thus he went to
his reward, on the vigil of All Saints', 1651. De Marinis and A
Rosario relate that the holy bishop summoned Ireton to the
judgment-seat of God to answer for his crimes; and on the 18th
day afterward that bloody persecutor was seized with the
plague, and, after sixteen days, expired in great torments. Dr.
Moran mentions that the spot where this holy bishop was
martyred is yet pointed out and venerated by the Catholics of
Limerick."

Another Dominican martyr of this scene, Father James Wolf,

"was an old man, and preacher-general, who had before been a
long time in prison for the faith, and in this last persecution
was as a wall against the enemies of the faith. He was taken in
Limerick while offering the mass, and in a few hours afterward
was sentenced to be hung, and brought out into the market
square, where he made a public profession of his faith, and
exhorted the Catholics to constancy in the religion of their
ancestors, and that with so much ardor that it moved his very
enemies. Standing on the top step of the ladder, and about to
be swung off, he joyously exclaimed, '_We are made a
spectacle to God and angels and men--of glory to God, of joy
to angels, of contempt to men._' Having said this, he was
hung, and so went to his crown."