Saints celebrated on the 26th of July
BL. WILLIAM WARD, PRIEST AND MARTYR
William Ward, whose true name was Webster, was born at Thornby, in Westmoreland, and educated in the catholic religion. He performed his studies abroad in the English college at Douay, where I find him admitted to the college oath, in 1605, and ordained priest. and sent upon the English mission, in 1608.
The best and fullest account that I have met with of this holy man is in a manuscript relation, written by a priest, who was his acquaintance and ghostly child; only that he is in a mistake, when he affirms him to have been made priest in the English seminary at Rheims for the seminary had been removed from Rheims to Douay fifteen years before Mr Ward was made priest. The account of him sent by way of letter, is as follows:
Sir,
In the way of an exact story I cannot undertake to tell you the entire life of Mr William Webster, alias Ward, born at Thornby in Westmoreland; but this I can say, that I had a perfect knowledge of the man for many years together, and had the happiness to be his ghostly child, divers years before myself was priest, and divers years after.
He was made priest in the English seminary at Rheims, in Champagne, above forty years before his martyrdom, and was ever known to be of an excellent spirit, exceeding zealous in God's service; not only exemplary in himself, but exhorting others to exemplarity of life; and his zeal was so great in this kind, that he got the repute of a rigid ghostly father and albeit many great persons made use of him in that way, nevertheless he yielded nothing to their greatness, but was rather more severe to them than to meaner persons; and however, his plainness and round language did not always please them, yet his spirit was so good, that he made impression on their souls, even then when they would scarce lend him patient ears. And I have known many great personages profess, that albeit they could not please him in conforming themselves to that religiousness in their lives which he required of them, nevertheless, they would rather make use of him for their ghostly father, and were better pleased with him in that way, than with any other that was less plain and more indulgent to them.
It was ordinary with him to threaten those that were worldly in plain terms with hell fire, and to tell them, they must make a stricter account of their actions in the next world than they did here; that heaven was not so cheap as they thought, but must be bought at a dearer rate than they seemed to value it at; that it was not easy to be saints in heaven, if we were not first saints here, and by a perfect charity united to Almighty God.
He did not use to preach set sermons, though his whole life was a continual preaching, but in confessions, wherein he spent most of his time, he would exhort much to virtue, and the love of God, and dissuade from vice and the vanity of the world; and seldom spared a threat of damnation, if the party were vain, as many of his penitents have told me themselves; and he gave this reason for it, that he found the fear of damnation to work stronger with worldlings for their repentance than the better motive of the pure love of Almighty God.
And however some men held him to be passionate, because his speech was earnest, and his face somewhat fiery upon any fervent speaking; yet those that knew he was truly vir dolorum, being in perpetual pain of two infirmities, which, for many late years hung upon him, a corroding fistula, and an extremity of toothache, never being free from the actual molestation of the one of these at least, and commonly afflicted with both at once in a high degree; and knowing that he had besides, in his soul, not only a perpetual fire of burning charity, but a passionate, yet holy hatred against sin, which made him with eagerness inveigh against sinners, according to that of the holy prophet, Irascimini et nolite peccare: those, I say, which knew this, were of a contrary opinion, and did not think the man to be so choleric as his hasty speech made others believe he was, but were edified at his spiritual zeal, to see it exceed his corporal pain, and give him leave to take pains in reprehending others, when he had more reason to have been indulgent to himself.
And I do profess, that for my own particular, I had this opinion of his zeal, and pure intention in all his actions, that even when he did things which others conceived to be odd, I durst not but attribute it to a holy simplicity; and was much edified at many passages in his life, which I know divers did not stick to laugh at, and make themselves merry withal. And whereas, some censorious people presumed to accuse him of avarice, because his diet was ever spare, and his apparel homely, though he had means enough to wear good clothes, and make better fare; yet this blessed man, the day before he died, purged himself of this aspersion, and made profession to a good poor catholic and friend of his, that the sole and true reason why he did not wear better clothes, nor covet better diet than he used himself to, was only by reason he did in his own conscience not think himself worthy of better; and this he spake with such an edifying simplicity, as would have put a scruple into any man not to have believed him. Besides, the holy man was ever charitable to the poor, which argued no love in him to riches, and he left what he had gathered up to pious uses. It was admirable to see the austerity of this good man's life, who albeit he was never free from pain, and always observed a sparing diet, as was said before, whence he must of necessity be exceeding weak; nevertheless, he did with great rigour keep all vigils, embers, Fridays throughout the year, and lent; insomuch, that all the lent long, he never eat whitemeat all his lifetime, notwithstanding he was eighty years old and upwards. And this, amongst other his virtues, to me seemed rare, that in all the time I knew his holy man, I could never hear him relate any possage, or speak of any subject, but it either began or ended with a memory of Almighty God's service, if his whole speech were not upon that theme; insomuch, that it may truly be said of him, that his lamp of charity and love towards God was ever burning, and that no blast of human commerce was able to blow it out, but still it blazed, and gave light to those whose lamps were extinguished, and many times lighted them again, by enkindling in their souls a devotion, whom if he found key-cold towards Almighty God's service, yet he left them with an ardent desire to serve God better than they had done formerly.
This to my own confusion and his honour hath often happened to myself. and I have heard divers others affirm the same for the truth is, no man that would look fixedly upon him, and observe well his comportment, could go out of his company without much edification; so composed an aspect he had, so grave a speech, so religious a carriage, so incessant a zeal, that a man might see he had always God in his mind, and his own soul in his hand: Anima mea in manibus meis semper. As if every one of his thoughts, words, and deeds, had been a matter that concerned his soul's salvation, as in truth it was to him, and is to every one of us, if we reflect, (as he did,) well upon ourselves.
It was remarkable to see how soon Almighty God was pleased to make trial of this his servant's constancy. The holy man when he was sent in mission into England for the conversion of souls, had the fortune, by contrary winds, to be landed in Scotland, as he was going to the northern part of England, and being upon suspicion apprehended for a priest, was cast into the dungeon, where, for three years together, he did not see the sun, yet in this desolate place he continued a zealous and constant professor of his faith, and a stout confessor. After three years durance, being released out of this dungeon, and coming into England, it was not long ere he was taken and put in prison again, insomuch that he had been in several prisons of the several counties of England: and as I have been credibly told, of forty and odd years, that he was priest, he had been a prisoner about twenty of them at several times; and had been banished more than once or twice. Yet so the zeal of Almighty God had eaten up the man, that he would never leave exposing himself to danger of death for the gaining of souls to God's holy truth, and the catholic religion.
And it seems that he was by God's singular providence ordained to die a martyr, who had lived so long so glorious a confessor. For some few days before he was taken and condemned to death, a nephew of his, and a priest, being careful of his old uncle, and solicitous how to secure him in these dangerous times, came above fifty miles on purpose up to London, to convey his uncle into a private house in the country, where he might lie sheltered till the storm of persecution was blown over, which the parliament had newly raised, banishing, by proclamation, all Jesuits, priests, and seminarists, menacing death to those that should be found in any of his majesty's dominions after the 7th of April, 1641.
But no persuasion of the nephew, no entreaty of any other friend, could prevail with the holy man to retire himself, whom Almighty God, it seems, did more strongly persuade to stay in London out of zeal to his many penitents which were there. And what better proof that it was an holy instinct which made him stay, than that within few days after, the blessed martyr was dogged by a pursuivant, to his lodgings, and at eleven o'clock at night, was taken out of his bed, carried to prison, arraigned, condemned, and executed all within the space of eleven days. In brief, the remarkable virtues in this saint, were, profound humility, apostolical poverty, zeal of souls, holy simplicity, approved fortitude, and perfect charity.
The manner of his taking, imprisonment, arraignment, condemnation, and going to execution:
He was apprehended on Thursday night, about midnight, being the 15th of July, 1641, in the house of one John Wollam, a nephew of his, and a poor catholic, by Thomas Mayhew, commonly called Mayo, a pursuivant, in virtue of a general warrant, under the hand of the speaker of the house of commons, and by this Mayo was brought directly to the prison of Newgate, without any order from justice of peace or other officer that had power to commit him, where he remained till the sessions following, which began at the Old Bailey within six days after his imprisonment, viz: Wednesday, the 21st of July.
Upon Friday the 23rd of July next ensuing, he was indicted and arraigned upon the statute of taking orders of priesthood by authority of the church of Rome. The evidence brought against him, was this Mayo aforesaid, who first professed himself to have been a Roman catholic about nineteen years past, then testified, that about the same time he had made his confession to this Mr Ward, had absolution from him, heard his Mass, and received the sacraments at his hands. And Sir Thomas Gardener, the recorder, demanding of Mayo, what ornaments Mr Ward had on when he said Mass, the impudent fellow, being ready at his lie, said, he had on an albe, a stole, a maniple, a vestment, and such other things as belong to a priest; but as it seems, the thing he affirmed, was false, so he could not tell the colour or quality of the vestments.
There were two more who pretended to give evidence against him that he was a Roman priest; but the one of them said so little to the purpose, that it was not worth the noting, and so he who gave me this relation, being present at the bar, doth not remember what it was, but affirms it was nothing to the purpose. The other witness testified that about seven years since he had apprehended Mr Ward, carried him to the Gatehouse, and took from him a spiritual book, wherein were his faculties from the see of Rome.
After these evidences given in by the three witnesses, the recorder asked Mr Ward, and bid him answer directly, whether he was a priest or no? He answered, no man was bound to accuse himself, but required that it should be proved against him, if they desired to know the truth thereof, and then professed openly before the bench, that what Mayo had testified was most false; whereupon the recorder demanded of him, if at least, those faculties which had been taken about him, were his; and he answered, he knew of no such thing.
Nevertheless, upon these evidences, the jury found him guilty; and the same day in the afternoon, when the judges had dined, he was sent for from the prison to the bar, where the recorder pronounced sentence of death against him in the usual manner.
After this sentence, he was brought back to Newgate, whither, he went most cheerfully, and there prepared himself for his death, which was to be upon Monday following, being the 26th of July, 1641. And it was wonderful to see with what alacrity of countenance and speech he resigned himself unto the holy will of Almighty God, professing an ardent desire to suffer for his sake, and declaring, that if any one should attempt to procure his reprieve or pardon, he would hinder it, if he could.
Upon Sunday, which was the day before he died, he desired conference with a priest in the same prison, which lasted for some hours, and was sometimes interrupted with tears of joy, both in the one, and in the other; in which tears, the holy martyr expressed his hearty desire of suffering for his blessed Saviour's sake, and so prettily intermingled his joy with sighs, as if his humility had told him he was not worthy of so great a crown of his unworthy labours, as was this of martyrdom, and ever expressed a fear to be deprived of his highest hopes, out of an unworthiness which he conceived in himself of so great an honour. And to all such as came that day to visit him, he expressed signs of an excessive joy, that he had lived so long as to come to this desired end.
The 26th of July 1641, which was the day of his suffering, being Monday, he said Mass very early in the morning, with great devotion and comfort, administered the holy sacrament to some lay catholics, which were his fellow-prisoners and after thanksgiving communicated to the priest that was with him the day before certain things, which he desired should be executed after his death; and gave him some money, to be distributed amongst the poor catholics in prison, as also, a twenty-shilling piece to give to Mr Johnson, the master keeper of Newgate, whom he willed him to thank for his kind usage towards him.
And it was noted by all who came this morning to him, especially by the priest, that his countenance, which was ever grave, was at this instant more than ordinarily gracious and sweet, as if it had received an outward beauty from the inward grace which was then, no doubt, abundant in his soul. And as the priest and devout catholics who were with him in his chamber, had newly done preparing him for his journey to the gallows by putting him on a clean cap, band, and cuffs, which were points of great finery in him that affected a contemptible attire, (though then as going to his wedding, and so he was content to put on vestes nuptiales,) instantly, one of the keepers of the prison knocked at the door to know if he was ready, for that the sledge was come for him; whereat the blessed man, as if he had listened for the glad tidings, made answer himself, with a cheerful voice, saying, Yes, I am ready. And within a short time after, another of the keepers came for him and told him he must go a little about by the leads, because though he had favour shown him not to be lodged, after his condemnation, in the common dungeon, yet now that he was to go to execution, he must pass the ordinary way through the common jail to the sledge.
The holy man obeyed readily, following the keeper, as if he had been his good angel; and when he came up to the leads, was stayed there a pretty while, because the rest of the prisoners that were to suffer as malefactors the same day, were in the chapel through which he was to pass, receiving their communion, as the custom is: the martyr being told as much, smiled, and passing through the chapel, said, Is this their chapel? And here the keeper, whose name was Meares, was to deliver him to another keeper, called Snelling, whose office it was to carry the prisoner down to the sledge. And this Meares, taking his leave of the holy man, said to him, Sir, I hope we shall one day meet in heaven: whereunto the good man answered, No, in truth shall we not, unless you become a catholic, and this truth I am now ready to seal with my blood.
After this, he encountered with a woman, prisoner in that place, whom he understood to be allied to Sir Philip Knevet: her, he exhorted to become a catholic, and to lead a virtuous life, using many effectual speeches to that purpose.
It was now about eight o'clock in the morning, when the holy martyr being laid on his back upon the sledge, was drawn from the prison, by four horses, to Tyburn, but as he passed up Holborn, he cast a special eye upon such houses as he had acquaintance in, and with a cheerful countenance, as well as he could, his hands being pinioned, he gave them his benediction.
As he was going to execution, a penitent of his went by him bitterly weeping; to whom the martyr spoke, saying, Why weep you, child! The party answered, for you, sir, when instantly the martyr said, Weep not for my death, for I can yet live if I please, but it is my joy to die for this cause, and, therefore, you have no reason to weep.
And to another he said, with signs of great joy, that he was infinitely happy to be able to lay down that life voluntarily now, which, by course of nature, he could not hope to keep one month longer.
Of his Comportment at Tyburn:
When he came to the place of execution, the sheriff of Middlesex, whose office is to attend in such cases, spake unto the holy man, asking him if he had any thing to say before he died? Whereupon he answered immediately, that he had to declare to all the world the cause of his death, which was purely the point of religion; for he was innocent of any crime that could deserve death: moreover, he said, Mr Sheriff, I give you and all this company to understand, that whereas I am condemned, and brought hither to die for being a Romish priest; even that hath not been proved against me; so I have received hard usage in this sentence; nevertheless, I shall here do you, and all those that had a hand in my death, this right at least, to declare that which was never proved, viz. that I am a Romish priest, and have been so about forty years, God be praised for it. And since I am condemned for being such, Mr Sheriff, I here make profession to all those that are here present, that I do not only die willingly for this cause, but think myself infinitely happy, and honoured highly therein, since it is to die for my Lord and Master, Jesus Christ. Here the sheriff asked him, of what religious order he was? who answered, I am of the apostles' order, I give God thanks for it; and I do rejoice to receive that superabundant reward of my poor labours, which the holy apostles of our blessed Saviour received of theirs, though mine have been far inferior and less than theirs were. Hereunto the sheriff replied, saying, You die, not for point of religion, but for seducing the king's subjects. To this, the holy martyr answered, he had seduced none, but reduced or converted many, the which he was glad of, and did wish he could not only have converted more, but even all England; because there was no other saving faith than that of the Roman catholic church; and as for this faith, I die, myself, most willingly, so I say unto you all, that will hope for salvation, you must die in the same faith at least, if not for it. The sheriff seeing the good Eleazar so stout in this point, was willing to divert him from it, and asked him what his true name was, whether it were Ward, or not; and whether he was anything allied to the bishop of Gloucester? To which he answered, that his true name was not Ward, but William Webster; and for the bishop, he was not allied to him, and so fell upon the profession of his faith again, saying, Mr Sheriff, I have no relation to that bishop. but have ever professed this religion which I now die for; and if I had a thousand lives, I should most willingly lose them all for the same cause. Here the sheriff, being willing that he should do anything, rather than inculcate so much to the people the profession of the Roman faith, interrupted him again, and said, Mr Webster. have you any prayers to say! The blessed man told him, I have said my prayers already but this sufficed not the sheriff, who fearing he would fall upon the former subject, asked him the second time, have you any more prayers to say! To this, the saint answered, yes, Mr Sheriff, and if it please you to give me leave I shall say them; when instantly he fell upon his knees, and made a quarter of an hour's silent prayer with a grave, composed countenance; and when the sheriff saw the good man stir, either supposing he had done his prayers, or not being willing to give him any longer time, he said unto him, with a loud voice, Mr Webster, have you any thing else now to say? To which demand, the martyr answered, Yes, Mr Sheriff, I have this to say more, that I pray heartily to God to bless the king and queen, the royal issue, and state, and all the people of this realm; and, Mr Sheriff, I would bequeath some small tokens ere I die, amongst poor catholics; but I can see none of them here. With that, the people cried out, give it to the hangman that he may favour you; at which, the saint smiled, saying, Alas! alas! he favours! see the fire and faggots, the halter and the gallows, what other favour can he do me! Nor do I desire to lose the merit of suffering in this cause; which said, he gave unto the sheriff forty shillings, beseeching him to distribute that small sum of money amongst the poorer sort of catholics, the saint himself, giving to the hangman two shillings and sixpence, which is, said he, For thy good office thou art to do me; and looking about him a little, he espied the carman who had driven the hurdle to the gallows, and gave him two shillings, which is, said he, For thy pains too, though thou be no catholic; this done, he threw an inkhorn, and handkerchief, and some other things left in his pocket amongst the people; and then immediately composed himself to die, recommending his soul to his blessed Saviour, and crying out in these word, Jesu, Jesu, Jesu, receive my soul, he ended this life. He hung till he was dead, because they stripped him hanging, then cut him down, dragged him by the heels, on his back to the fire, there dismembered and beheaded him, ript up his belly, plucked out his heart and his bowels, and cast them into the fire, &c., setting up his head and quarters upon several gates and places of the city; but by God's special providence, the heart of this glorious martyr was preserved from the fire, by reason it slid down upon the edge of a sloping stick, and so fell into the embers, where it was rather covered than consumed, and by this accident, was found.
A person of great quality, Count Egmond by name, hearing by a servant of his, who was present at the action, that an holy priest had suffered martyrdom that morning, being the 26th of July, 1641,asked his servant if he had brought any relic of the martyr away with him; who told him yes, and gave him, (as he said,) the very handkerchief which the saint had cast out of his pocket. The count, taking it with reverence, kissed it; but finding no blood upon the same, gave the servant his own handkerchief, commanding him to run back instantly to the place of execution, and to dip that in some of the martyr's blood, if he could find any. The servant posting away, came back to the gallows, made diligent search for some of the blood, but finding it was all scraped up by the zeal of other pious catholics, who had been before him, takes his stick, and rubbing up the ashes where the bowels of the martyr had been burnt, finds a lump of flesh all parched and singed by the fiery embers, wherein it lay covered, and hastily wrapped up what he had found in the handkerchief which his lord had given him, not having time to shake off the fiery coals or hot ashes, by reason that some malicious persons who stood by and saw this fellow stooping, and taking somewhat out of the fire, demanded of him what he took thence; the man nimbly slipped over a park pale, and run from them, who would have laid hands on him; whereupon, divers horsemen passing that way, and hearing a great number of foot cry stop, stop, stop. (as the ill custom of our nation is, every man making himself an officer, and hangman, rather than fail,) out of officious curiosity in such cases, rode hard round the park pale, hoping at the next gate to encounter with this poor man, who was pursued by a clamorous and still increasing company of footmen, who continually kept sight of him. The man perceiving himself so beset on all sides and pursued, resolved not to lose the relic, whatever became of himself, dropped it as he ran, in a bush, and took special mark upon the bush with his eye, where he left it, resolving to come another time and fetch what now he could not safely carry any farther; and this he did with such dexterity, making no stop at all, but feigning a small trip or stumble, and yet seeming suddenly to recover himself, ran on, drawing his pursuers after him to delude them, and thereby to save the relic. In brief, this poor man recovered the skirts of the town ere he was overtaken, and there being apprehended, was carried before officers, yet by the power of his lord was fetched off, upon security given that he should be forthcoming; and so went early next morning to the place where he had dropped the relic, and found it in the handkerchief which he had wrapped it in, and in the same place where he had left it; in which circumstance it is remarkable, that the handkerchief was not burnt by any of the fiery coals or hot ashes which might hang upon the flesh when he took it out of the fire; and bringing this home to his lord, upon diligent search what it should be, they found, by incision, it was the very heart of the holy martyr, and it re- mained fifteen days untainted; after which time, the count, who keeps it as his greatest jewel, caused it to be embalmed; not that he did it to preserve it from corruption, which it seemed no way to incline to, but for reverence to so rich a relic: Quia pretiosa in conspectu Domini mors sanctorum ejus.
And it may serve for an example to all good christians, that their special devotions and duties to their particular patrons are exercises not only pleasing to God and his saints, but infinitely profitable to souls. For whereas this man of God was ever singularly devoted to St Ann, the mother of the blessed virgin Mary, keeping her feast every year with more than ordinary solemnity, and this commonly in the houses of some of his penitents, virtuous women who bore that name: see the high reward he received of this his devotion, that Almighty God bestowed the crown of martyrdom upon him on the feast of St Ann, the 26th of July, 1641! as if that blessed saint had been ambitious to wait upon God's martyr, and put the triumphant crown upon his head with her own hands, who had so devoutly, and so constantly, for many years together, on this, her festival day, solemnized her praises. So far the manuscript.
From the manuscript relation, by a priest, who calls himself Mr Ward's ghostly child, and from the Douay Diary.
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