make way through the press. The persons whom Gardiner and his colleagues had selected to be their first victims, were all men whose integrity and holiness of life commanded respect even from those who differed with them in opinion; their preaching, however popular, had never at any time been so efficacious as their example now; many, therefore, in the crowd avowedly rejoiced at their constancy; and when they were conducted back after night had closed, the officers were sent before to put out the costermongers' candles, (London had no lamps then,) that they might pass unseen, and thus avoid these demonstrations of good will. But the people expected their coming, and many came out of their doors with lights, to salute and encourage them, and pray God that he would strengthen them to the end. The Romanists continually spread reports that some of their most distinguished prisoners had acknowledged their errors, and abjured them. They did this to abate the constancy of others, knowing what consolation and what fortitude each of these Confessors derived from the sympathy and example of his brethren. The prisoners, however, found means of communicating even when at a distance; and Hooper, who had not been reconciled to Ridley since the dispute concerning the habits at his consecration, wrote to him now, prisoner to prisoner, as his dear brother and reverend fellow-elder in Christ. Ridley replied in the same Christian temper: "Forasmuch," says he, " as we thoroughly agree and wholly consent together in those things which are the grounds and substantial points of our religion, against the which the world so furiously rageth in these our days,... howsoever in times past, by certain bye-matters and circumstances of religion, your wisdom and my simplicity (I grant) hath jarred, each of us following the abundance of his own sense and judgement, . . . now, heart, God is my witness, I love you in the Truth, and for the Truth's sake which abideth in us, and I am persuaded shall, by the grace of God, abide in us for evermore."

I say, be you assured, that even with my whole

But the report of Hooper's recantation was spread so confidently, that many of the Protestants believed it, . . . the more readily, because Bonner and his Chaplains came to him sometimes, endeavouring to win him over. As soon as he understood this report, he wrote a letter, addressed to all that unfeignedly

looked for the coming of our Saviour, lamenting in this, that his dear brethren, who have not yet, said he, felt such dangers for God's truth as we have, and do feel, and be daily like to suffer more, yea, the very extreme and vile death of the fire, should lightly believe that he, John Hooper, a condemned man for the cause of Christ, should, after sentence of death, being then in Newgate prisoner, and looking daily for execution, recant and abjure that which theretofore he had preached. Had he refused to talk with the Bishop of London and his Chaplains, they might have just occasion, he said, to say that he was unlearned, and durst not speak with learned men; or else that he was proud, and disdained to speak with them. Therefore he always spoke with them when they came, not fearing their arguments, but being more confirmed in the truths which he had preached. He prayed, therefore, that the weak brethren might be certified of the truth, and not trouble him with such reports. "For I have hitherto," said he, "left all things of this world, and suffered great pains and imprisonment; and I thank God I am as ready to suffer death as a mortal man may be. It were better for them to pray for us, than to credit or report such rumours. We have enow of such as know not God truly; but the false report of weak brethren is a double cross. . . . I have taught the truth with my tongue, and with my pen, heretofore; and hereafter shortly shall confirm the same, by God's grace, with my blood."

Two days after this noble letter was written, the ceremony of degrading was performed upon him and Rogers together. Rogers was led to execution; and Hooper, on the following morning, sent, in custody of six of the Queen's guards, to Gloucester, there to suffer. He rejoiced at this, "praising God that he saw it good to send him amongst the people over whom he was pastor, there to confirm, with his death, the truth which he had before taught them; not doubting but that the Lord would give him strength to perform the same to his glory." Sir Anthony Kingston, one of his personal friends, was one of the persons appointed, by the Queen's letters, to see execution done upon him. This Knight, as soon as he saw him, burst into tears, and would have persuaded him to preserve his life by submitting to the ruling powers. The Bishop meekly answered, "I am come hither to suffer death, because I will not gainsay

the truth, that I have heretofore taught amongst you; and I thank you for your friendly counsel, although it be not so friendly as I could have wished it. True it is, Master Kingston, that death is bitter and life is sweet; but I have settled myself, through the strength of God's Holy Spirit, patiently to pass through the torments and extremities of the fire now prepared for me, rather than deny the truth of His word; desiring you and others, in the mean time, to commend me to God's mercy in your prayers." Sir Anthony then perceiving, as he said, there was no remedy, took leave of him, thanking God that he had ever known Hooper, who had reclaimed him from a vicious and adulterous course of life. Hooper was moved to tears at his departure, and declared, that all the troubles he had sustained in prison had not caused him to utter so much sorrow.

When he was delivered by the guards into the Sheriff's custody, the Mayor and Aldermen saluted him respectfully, and took him by the hand. The Bishop thanked them for thus acknowledging their old friendship toward one who was now a prisoner and condemned man; and requested, as the only favour, that there might be a quick fire, shortly to make an end. The Sheriffs would have lodged him, for that night, in the common gaol, if the guards had not interceded, saying, how mildly and patiently he had behaved on the way, ... that a child might keep him, . . . and that they themselves, though now discharged of their commission, would rather watch with him than that he should be sent to the common prison. He was lodged, therefore, in a private house; and, retiring early to bed, rose after one sound sleep, and bestowed the rest of the time in prayer, requesting that he might be left alone till the hour of execution. When he saw a company of men with bills and other weapons, to guard the place of suffering, he observed to the Sheriffs, that there had been no need of them, saying, "If ye had willed me, I would have gone alone to the stake, and have troubled none of you." It was a market-day, and about seven thousand persons were assembled. The sight of the multitude made him say to those who were near him, " Peradventure they think to hear something from me, as they have in times past; but alas, speech is prohibited me! Notwithstanding, the cause of my death is well known unto them. When I was their

pastor, I preached unto them true and sincere doctrine, and that out of the word of God. Because I will not now account the same to be heresy and untruth, this kind of death is prepared for me."

"So he went forward," says Fox, "led between the two Sheriffs, (as it were a lamb to the place of slaughter,) in a gown of his host's, his hat upon his head, and a staff in his hand to stay himself withal; for the sciatica, which he had taken in prison, caused him somewhat to halt." He had been ordered not to speak; "but beholding the people all the way which mourned bitterly for him, he would sometimes lift up his eyes toward Heaven, and look cheerfully upon such as he knew; and he was never known, during the time of his being amongst them, to look with so cheerful and ruddy a countenance as he did at that present." The stake had been made ready near a great elm tree, in front of the Cathedral where he was wont to preach. "The place round about, the houses, and the boughs of the tree, were replenished with people, and in the chamber over the College-gate, stood the Priests of the College." While he was on his knees in prayer, a box containing his pardon was brought and laid before him; at the sight whereof, he twice exclaimed, "If you love my soul, away with it!" Lord Chandos, who presided at this abominable execution, was so jealous of the effect which whatever came from Hooper's lips might produce upon the people, that he ordered those persons to a distance who were intently hearkening to his prayer; not, however, till they had heard a few sentences, and among them these words: "Well knowest Thou, Lord, wherefore I am come hither to suffer, why the wicked do persecute this thy poor servant; not for my sins and transgressions committed against Thee, but because I will not allow their wicked doings, to the denial of the knowledge of thy truth, wherewith it did please Thee by thy Holy Spirit to instruct me; the which, with as much diligence as a poor wretch could, (being thereto called,) I have set forth to thy glory. And well seest Thou, my Lord and God, what terrible pains and cruel torments be prepared for thy creature; such, Lord, as without thy strength, none is able to bear, or patiently to pass. But all things, that are impossible with man, are possible with Thee. Therefore strengthen me of thy goodness, that

and

in the fire I break not the rules of patience; or else assuage the terror of the pains, as shall seem most to thy glory."

In full reliance upon the support for which he prayed, when they fastened his neck and legs, as well as his body, by hoops of iron to the stake, he assured them that trouble was needless, for God, he doubted not, would give him strength to abide the extremity of the fire without bands. He would fain not have taken off his doublet and hose, but the Sheriffs required them; such, says the Martyrologist, was their greediness!... so that he remained in his shirt; and being a tall man, and raised on a high stool, he was seen by all the people; and in the sight of that great multitude, among whom a few hearts remained unmoved, he, as he had prayed that he might do, patiently endured what was indeed the extremity of the fire;... for through all the Marian persecution, there was no other so lingering a martyrdom. But the voice with which he called upon his Redeemer, was not as the voice of one impatient, or overcome with pain: he remained calm and still to the last, without a struggle; and at length, in the words of the faithful old narrator, died as quietly as a child in his bed.

On the same day that Hooper suffered martyrdom, Dr. Rowland Taylor in like manner bore his testimony to the same cause, at Hadley in Suffolk. When the living of that town was given him, he was one of Cranmer's household; but going immediately to reside there, he forwarded the work which had been begun by Bilney's preaching, and brought over a manufacturing population to a proper sense of religion, and to that consequent state of morals and manners, which nothing but religion can produce. It had been his practice to visit the sick, the poor, and the needy, to comfort them, relieve them, and instruct them; and he called regularly upon the rich clothiers, to go with him to the almshouses, and see that every thing was duly provided there, his exhortations and example making them contribute their proper part to these works of charity. Some zealous Romanists, with a few armed followers, brought a neighbouring Priest, and took forcible possession of his church, when the old religion was restored. Taylor, as the shepherd appointed to feed that flock, ordered these Popish wolves, as he called them, to depart: upon which they turned him out of the church, closed the doors to ex