the proto-martyr of the protestant church.
the solemn proceedings we have described as taking place in the conventual church of saint bartholomew occupied more than an hour, and during this time the concourse within smithfield had considerably increased. every available inch of ground commanding a view of the place of execution was by this time occupied. the roofs and windows of all the habitations overlooking the enclosure were filled, and the giant elm-trees near the pool had hundreds among their branches. romanists and protestants could be readily distinguished from each other by their looks—the countenances of the former being fierce and exulting in expression, while those of the other bespoke sorrow and indignation.
on the left of the gangway leading to the priory and opposite the stake, a large scaffold had been erected. it was covered with black cloth, and in front was an immense cross embroidered in silver, underneath which was inscribed, unus dominus, una fides, unum baptisma. this scaffold was intended for the recusants and protestant divines, and was guarded by mounted arquebusiers.
on the right of the gateway was reared a long covered gallery, hung with crimson cloth of gold, and emblazoned with the royal arms. this gallery was approached from the upper windows of the mansion against which it was set, and was reserved for the king, the bishops, and the council. it was likewise guarded by mounted men-at-arms.
279the patience of the densely-packed crowd, eager for the exciting spectacle it had come to witness, was well-nigh exhausted, when the solemn tolling of the bell of the conventual church announced that, at last, the intended martyr was coming forth. then all noise and tumult suddenly ceased, and deep silence fell upon the throng.
in the midst of this hush the doleful hymn chanted by the monks could be distinctly heard. every eye was then directed towards the gateway. presently the priests emerged, carrying the crucifixes and banners, and mounting the scaffold, they ranged themselves in front of it. they were followed by the recusants with lighted torches, who were placed at the back of the scaffold, while the middle seats were allotted to the protestant divines.
all these proceedings were watched with deep interest by the spectators. many an eye was then cast towards the royal gallery, but it was still vacant.
as yet nothing had been seen of the doomed man, but now the sheriffs rode forth from the gateway, and in another moment rogers came after them, still maintaining his firmness of deportment. he was preceded by half-a-dozen halberdiers, and followed by two officers, with drawn swords in their hands.
at this moment philip came forth, and sat down in the fauteuil prepared for him in the centre of the gallery. close behind him stood father alfonso, while on his right were gardiner and bonner, and other prelates, and on his left the principal members of the council.
as philip appeared, a half-suppressed murmur arose among the spectators, and had not their attention been diverted by what was going on below, stronger manifestations of dislike might have been made. philip frowned as these murmurs greeted him, but made no remark.
meanwhile, rogers continued to march resolutely towards the place of execution—some of the spectators pitying and comforting him, others flouting and reviling him. his firmness, however, was exposed to a sore trial at the last. his unhappy and half-distracted wife having followed him with her children to smithfield, had managed to force her way close up to the ring of halberdiers encircling the stake; and as he came up, aided by some charitable persons near her, 280who drew aside to let her pass, she burst forth, and ere she could be prevented, flung herself into his arms, and was strained to his breast, while his children clung to his knees.
but this agonising scene, which moved most of those who beheld it, whatever their religious opinions might be, was of brief duration. seeing what had occurred, sheriff woodrooffe turned fiercely round, and roared out, “what! here again, thou pestilent woman! pluck her from him, and take her and her children from the ground.”
“go, dear wife and children,” cried rogers. “we shall meet again in a better world, where none will trouble us. farewell for a little while—only a little while! my blessing be upon you!”
“i will not leave you. i will die with you,” shrieked his unhappy wife.
“let these cruel men kill us also,” cried one of the younger children—a little girl. “we do not desire to live.”
“pluck them away instantly, i say,” roared woodrooffe. “why do you hesitate? do you sympathise with these heretics?”
“gently sirs, gently,” said rogers. “see ye not she faints. farewell, dear wife,” he continued, kissing her marble cheek. “you can take her now. she will not struggle more. be of good cheer, my children. we shall meet again in heaven. once more, farewell.”
as his swooning wife and weeping children were taken away, he covered his face with his hands, and wept aloud, but, roused by the angry voice of the sheriff, he lifted up his head, and, brushing the tears from his eyes, marched with firm footsteps into the ring, in the midst of which was planted the stake. no sooner had he come there than a priest advanced towards him, and, holding up a crucifix, besought him to repent.
but rogers pushed him aside, and, turning to the assemblage, called out with a loud voice,—
“good people, having taught you nothing but god’s holy word, and such lessons as i have learnt from his blessed book, the holy bible, i am come hither to seal my faith with my blood.”
“have done, thou false knave!” cried woodrooffe, “or i 281will have thy lying tongue torn from thy throat. make ready. thou hast detained us long enough.”
“nay, treat him not thus harshly,” interposed the priest. “again, i implore you to renounce your errors.”
“you waste time with him, good father,” cried the sheriff.
“not so,” rejoined the priest. “perchance, even now, heaven may soften his heart.”
“i pray you let me be,” said rogers, taking a prayer-book from his breast, and turning the leaves.
“thou shalt not read that book,” cried the sheriff, snatching it from him. “i will cast it into the fire with thee. make ready, i say.”
on this rogers went up to the stake, and pressing his lips fervently to it, exclaimed, “welcome the cross of christ! welcome eternal life!”
on turning round, he would have addressed a few more words to the people, but the sheriff, perceiving his design, authoritatively forbade him.
then one of the men standing near the stake came up and besought his forgiveness.
“forgiveness for what?” rejoined rogers. “thou hast done me no injury that i know of.”
“i am one of those appointed to burn you,” replied the man.
“nay, then, i freely forgive thee, good fellow,” replied rogers. “and i will give thee thanks also, if thou wilt heap plenty of wood about me.”
with that he took off his gown and doublet, and bestowed them upon the man. then, kneeling down by the stake, he passed a few moments in deep and earnest prayer; after which he arose, and said, in a firm voice, “i am ready.”
thereupon, a smith and his man, who were in attendance with the sheriffs, stepped forward, and putting the chain around him, fastened it at the back of the stake. an iron hoop was likewise passed around his body, and nailed to the post.
then the men with the prongs began to pile the faggots around him, mingling them with bundles of reeds.
“are your fagots dry?” he inquired, as they were thus engaged.
“ay, marry are they,” replied the man to whom he had 282given his cloak and doublet. “you shall not be long a-burning, i’ll warrant you.”
when sufficient fagots had been heaped around him, sheriff woodrooffe called for torches, which were brought, but ere they could be applied, the priest again interposed.
“hold yet a moment,” he exclaimed.
then advancing towards the martyr, who, chained to the stake and half covered by the fagots, regarded him steadily, he displayed a warrant to him, and said, “here is the queen’s pardon. recant, i conjure thee, and thou shalt be spared.”
“away with thee, tempter!” exclaimed rogers. “i take you all to witness,” he added, with a loud voice, “that i die in the protestant faith.”
“kindle the pile instantly!” vociferated the sheriff.
three blazing torches were then applied to the bundles of reeds, and the next moment the flames leaped up and enveloped the martyr.
many of the beholders shouted and exulted at the terrific spectacle, but groans and lamentations burst from others.
then the flame fell for a moment, and the serene countenance of the martyr could be descried, his lips moving in prayer. but not a groan or a cry escaped him.
the fagots now began to crackle and blaze. the flames mounted higher and higher, and again wrapt the martyr from view.
at this moment the sheriff threw the prayer-book into the fire, commanding the assistants to heap on fresh fagots as fast as the others were consumed; and this was continued till the sufferer was reduced to ashes.
thus died the proto-martyr of the protestant church.
end of the fourth book.
