Blessed Alban Roe was one of three Benedictine monks put to death for their faith between 1641 and 1646 under the ‘long, persecuting Parliament'. All of them are recorded by their contemporaries as notable not only for the zeal of their labours on the English Mission but also for their extreme cheerfulness. B. Ambrose Barlow (1641) is ‘our merrie martyr'; B. Philip Powell (1646), while going to his death, drank a glass of wine, offered to him on the way, to the health of his coachman, the carter who drove the cart which dragged his hurdle; Fr Alban Roe himself is described as being ‘of invincible patience and courage, and remarkably cheerful and facetious even in the midst of his sufferings', ‘facetious' being used at that time with none of the suggestion which it has for us, that his jokes were bad jokes. In fact the characteris- tic that we notice first and remember longest in him is this cheerful steadfastness, rooted in a naturally fearless temperament, but in its final flowering a truly supernatural virtue; so that much of the interest for us of his life lies precisely in the maturing of his character under Grace and under strict monastic training, its development from a brash, almost buccaneering, boldness to the tempered fortitude of the Christian martyr, the expansion of his virtues to absorb their attendant defects.
Bartholomew Roe (1^83-1642), also known at various times as James or Alban Rolfe, Rosse, Rooz, Rouse, or Rowe, was born in Suffolk, the son, probably, of Bartholomew Roe, Gent., of Bury St Edmund's. He was educated locally at first, and later went up to Cambridge, but to which college is not known. It was while he was at Cambridge that the incident occurred which led eventually to his conversion. Bishop Challoner in his Memoirs of Missionary Priests, following ‘a manuscript relation kept by the English Benedictines at Douay, and other Memoirs in my hands', relates that at Cambridge, after pursuing his studies for some time with good success, Roe, ‘going to visit some friends at St Albans, as Providence would have it, was there told of one David, an inhabitant of that town, lately converted and cast into prison for a popish recusant, and was desirous to go and talk with the prisoner, making no question but that he could convince him of the errors and absurdities of the Romish tenets; for he had a sharp and ready wit and a tongue well hung, and withal was full of conceit of his own religion and with false ideas of the Catholic doctrine.': But this David, ‘though a mechanic, yet was not ill read in contro- versy, so that he was able to maintain his case against all the oppositions of our young university man, and even pushed him so hard upon several articles that Mr. Roe soon perceived that he had taken a tartar, and knew not which way to turn himself. In conclusion, he who came to the attack with so much confidence of victory, left the field with confusion, beginning now to stagger and diffide in the cause.''
Roe went back to Cambridge ‘uneasy in mind upon the score of religion', and started a course of ‘reading and conferring with Catholic priests'. How long this lasted we do not know, perhaps some years, but it culminated not only in his conversion but in a decision to go abroad, and become a priest, so as to impart to others the truth which he had gained for himself.
It would not be in keeping with his character if he had kept these events from his friends, nor was he a man whose doings would easily pass unnoticed; in fact there may be a reference to his encounter with David in The Court of King James I, by Bishop Goodman, Roe's contemporary at Cambridge, which mentions a court case in which Roe and David seem to be involved. If this be so, we can take it that as an undergraduate Bartholomew Roe was already notorious, even perhaps in London, as at least favourable to Romish tenets.
However that may be, on 13th November, 1607, he sought admission to the English College at Douay in Flanders. This college had originally been founded at Douay by Cardinal Allen in 1568, to train priests for the English Mission. In 1578 the college had been forced to move to Rheims, and there, in 1588, Dr Richard Barrett had succeeded the founder as president. Under him the college apparently declined in spirit, lost the sympathy of many of the secular clergy and the affection of many of its students, and certainly incurred debt. It is not therefore surprising if, in these conditions, the students them- selves lost something of their former fervour and discipline. In 1593 the college returned to Douay, and in 1599 Dr Barrett died, and was succeeded by Dr Thomas Worthington. Soon afterwards, a pontifical visitation led to the issue of new regulations by the Protector of the college, Cardinal Cajetan. But Dr Worthington, though he achieved reforms of discipline, was unsuccessful as president, and at length, in 1613, after being summoned to Rome by the Protector, relinquished his office.
It was thus during Dr Worthington's presidency that Bartholomew Roe sought admission to Douay. He could not be admitted at once, as the number of scholars was limited under the new regulations, but for a few months took lodgings in the town, and then on 21 February, 1608, matriculated at the University of Douay, and was admitted on the following day to the college.
On 15 October, 1609, he made his profession of faith and took the oath to do nothing deliberately to disturb the peace of the college. Nothing perhaps tells us more of the state of the college at this time than the very necessity of this oath; nonetheless, it is unfortunate that the next reference to Roe in the Douay Diaries deals with charges of insubordination which led to his expulsion from the college. The charges throw so much light on his character at this time, the nature which Grace had to mould, that they may be quoted at some length:
The document, which ends with the verdict that Roe should be dismissed, is signed by the Vice-President, the Procurator, and two Doctors of Theology, and dated 16 December, 1610. The President accordingly dismissed Roe from the college in January, 1611, ‘for a time, until he became more suited to the college', whereupon he demanded reasons for his dismissal, and later a testimonial to his character, both of which were refused. He received, however, from some twenty students a testimonial to his good life and conduct at the college, from which we learn also that the authorities who expelled him considered nonetheless that any bishop could and should ordain him priest.
A balanced judgment of the incident is impossible unless it be remembered that for many reasons the college had not by any means been able to maintain either the spirit or the wellbeing of its first foundation. Moreover, it seems clear from what we know of the currents of thought in Douay at that time, and from Roe's subsequent actions, that he must already have been thinking of becoming a Benedictine, and perhaps even urging others among the students to do so too; and all this at a time when, as is told in another chapter, the officials of the college were considerably less than favourable to such ideas. There were, therefore, many potential causes of friction between the students in general and the authorities, nor were the students backward in making their feelings known; Roe was not the only future martyr concerned in such scenes, for B. Thomas Maxfield had in the previous year returned to England in circumstances similar to Roe's. Besides which, prejudice against Roe in particular must have been increased by his known attraction to the Benedictine life and spirituality. But even so, it is only too plain that his ‘sharp and ready wit, and tongue well hung', his rash fearless- ness and his evident popularity with his fellow-students, had led him into grave indiscretion, and more than indiscretion, and that there is as yet apparent in his conduct little or none of the Benedictine spirit of obedience and humility. This developed in him later.
After leaving Douay, he went first to Paris, then back to Douay, then perhaps to England for a short time, and then to Lorraine to become a postulant at the new Benedictine monastery of St Laurence at Dieulouard, whose community, still struggling for mere survival, was fervent and of strict observance. His arrival was probably early in 1613; he was clothed and took the name of Br. Alban. Having given satis- faction during his noviciate, he was professed with three others in October of the next year, and ordained probably in the year after. From Dieulouard, probably in that same year 1615, he was sent to Paris to help to found the community of St Edmund, now at Woolhampton, a sign of the high confidence placed in him; then finally ‘being judged by his superiors thoroughly qualified by a long practice of all religious virtues for the apostolic functions, he was sent upon the English Mission', where he was noted for his pains in preaching and in conferring with Protestants, and for his zeal and charity. After a time he was caught by the pursuivants and taken to the New Prison in Maiden Lane, where for five years (1618-23) he endured great hardships, until his release was procured by the Spanish Ambassa- dor. He was then banished and warned that if he returned he would die as a traitor. Despite this, after a short stay with the community of St Gregory at Douay, now at Downside, he returned to England, where for some two years he worked with his usual zeal, and then was captured once more and committed to ‘a filthy gaol at St Albans, the very place where he had received the first favourable impressions of the Catholic faith'. Here his confinement was so strict and conditions were so bad that he believed he must have died if a special providence had not interposed; some friends procured his transfer to London, where ‘he was something better accommodated in the prison of the Fleet', and was able to minister to the many who resorted to him, and even, during the latter part of his long sojourn there, to go out on parole and minister outside the prison, like several other priests during Charles Vs reign. Bishop Challoner gives the length of his imprisonment as seventeen years, but it was, in fact, probably about fourteen and a half.
There are two principal features of this period: first the predominance of prayer not only in his own life, but also in his teaching of others. Bishop Challoner notes expressly that he was ‘very industrious in animating such as applied to him to the prac- tice of mental prayer; instructing them in this holy practice both by word of mouth and by several pious tracts which he translated out of other languages into English'. The tracts included St John Fisher's de Fructu Orationis, but it is uncertain whether any of them survive. The second feature is his merry fortitude. The pain of imprisonment was aggravated for him by ‘frequent illnesses and violent fits of the stone (for which he underwent operations more than once), all which he endured with invincible patience and courage; being remarkably cheer- ful and focetious even in the midst of his sufferings'; so much so, in fact, that his gaiety aroused the resentment of certain sour Catholics, who included his name, with other monks and martyrs, on a list of ‘scandalosi' with the comment, ‘Albanus Roe Monachus Benedictinus male audit ob frequentes compotationes, ludum et similia'; but the accounts that we have of his life in prison and his death, and the high esteem in which he was held, show that these charges can be wholly disregarded. Doubtless, if friends visited him bringing wine and cards, he did not turn them away; but there can be no question of his genuine con- viviality being in any way immoderate.
At about the beginning of the Long Parliament Fr Alban rightly saw that his trial was approaching. At the end of 1641 he was transferred from the Fleet to Newgate, usually an omen, and on 19th January, 1642, was brought to trial at the Old Bailey, the chief witness against him being a lapsed Catholic whom he had formerly assisted. He pleaded ‘not guilty', but at first was unwilling to be tried ‘by his country' lest the jury, in their ignorance, be guilty of his innocent blood; when for this refusal he was threatened with the peine forte et dure, that is, with being crushed slowly to death, he replied, ‘My Saviour has suffered far more for me than all that, and I am willing to suffer the worst of torments for His sake' *. The judge bade him think better of it, and sent him back to his cell.
Next day, having taken advice from some learned priests, Fr Alban agreed to trial. The charge was that he was a priest and had seduced the people, both of which he admitted, adding that, if to win souls for God was seduction, he had seduced a fair number. The jury quickly declared him ‘guilty of the indictment, viz., of High Treason, on account of his priestly character and functions'. Sentence was pronounced in the customary form,
He made no secret of his priest- hood, but said many noble things in its praise, and denounced the laws making it a capital offence. He also offered to maintain his faith in open court against any opponent whatsoever, but the judge refused and sent him back to gaol. In striking contrast with this unflinching dignity is the behaviour of William Messinger, who, being condemned at the same Sessions for burglary, ‘rail'd against the Bench and Jury, telling them he would pray in hell, that the fire might burne and scald them, for he knew he should meet them there'.
From this point we follow largely the contemporary account of le Sieur de Marsys,1 a member of the French Embassy in London at that time, supplementing it where necessary from other documents. The detailed order of events cannot be established for certain since our sources differ slightly among themselves, but the account which follows is substantially accurate.
On his return to gaol, Fr Alban was received by a number of Catholics who had come to offer him comfort; but when he addressed them, it was with such fervour that they who had thought to bring comfort found themselves receiving it. ‘Accept persecution with joy,' he said, ‘as coming from God. It is usually a mark of His favour, for at least it serves to increase our glory if we endure it with patient resignation.' Thereafter he spent his time chiefly in the practice of humility, begging those present to pray for him, and declaring himself unworthy of martyrdom. For he knew now that unless a man be humble, courage can even be dangerous, as leading to pride, and that all the virtues ‘gradually go bad unless salted with humility'. It was into this mature blend that his natural courage had ripened.
The next day, which was a Friday and the feast of the martyr St Agnes, he said Mass early, as did B. Thomas Reynolds (or Greene), an old and frail priest, timid by nature, who was to be his companion. After blessing the Catholics present, Fr Alban said to them: ‘When you see our arms stretched out and nailed to the city gates, imagine that we are giving you the same blessing as now; and when you see our heads high up on London Bridge, take it that they are there simply to preach to you, to proclaim that very faith for which we are about to die.' When summoned, at about nine o'clock, he walked down the prison steps with the air of a victor, courteously greeted the sheriff and his officers, and went to the hurdle where Fr Thomas Reynolds was already lying. Him he embraced with affec- tion, and then feeling his pulse in jest, asked him how he found himself now; ‘In very good heart/' said Mr. Reynolds, ‘blessed be God for it, and glad that I am to have for my companion in death a person of your undaunted courage.' Then Fr Alban, making the Sign of the Cross, said to the carter: 'Come on, let us be going', and they were then drawn off on their hurdle, ‘the way being very deep and plashy so that their faces, hands and cloaths were much spattered with dirt'. Both Catholics and Protestants were deeply moved by their demeanour, and encouraged them and tried to kiss their hands or clothes, while for his part Fr Alban declared that ‘they more esteemed it to be drawn up Holborn on a sledge for this cause, than if they were riding in the best coach the King had'; and gave them his handkerchief and all that he had in his pockets. Then, seeing a man that he knew, he called him by name and said: ‘My greetings to your master, and tell him that you have seen me in a coach without wheels, and that I hope to be going to a place where I will pray God for him'. ‘All the way', con- tinues de Marsys, ‘he looked so happy and joyful — and his joy was not affected nor empty — that even the heretics were astonished. A poor Catholic man, who seemed utterly scared, greeted our martyr, who said to him: 'My friend, do not be surprised at seeing me here; do you not know that I am going to a great feast ?'
When they arrived at Tyburn, Fr Thomas Reynolds first addressed the crowd while Fr Alban ministered to one of the three criminals who were to die with them, whom he had reconciled to the Church in prison the day before. Then he too addressed the crowd, looking about him and exclaiming with some surprise: ‘Here's a jolly company'. Then he repeated what he had said in court: ‘I say then here again, for a man to be put to death for being a priest, this being the most sacred and highest order in the world, is an unjust and tyrannical law . . . a law not to be found among the Turks, or elsewhere in the whole universe, England excepted.'
Here the sheriff bade him change his subject, so he said to him: ‘Pray, sir, if I will conform to your religion and go to church, will you secure me my life?' 'That I will', said the sheriff, ‘upon my word; my life for yours if you will but do that.' ‘See then,' said Mr. Roe, turning to the people, ‘what the crime is for which I am to die, and whether my religion be not my only treason.' Then, going on, he prayed: ‘Forgive me, my God, my countless offences as I forgive my persecutors; accept my sufferings and death as satisfaction for my sins. I wish I had a thousand lives; then I would sacrifice them all for so worthy a cause.': Whereupon a Protestant lady cried out to the sheriff:' 'Sir, without doubt these men are blessed; I wish my soul were with theirs.' So too the criminal whom Fr Alban had converted, when urged by the Protestant minister to join with the others in singing the customary psalms, said that the good example of the two martyrs had made a Catholic of him; and some of the Protestant by- standers had declared that they wished to examine the Catholic faith dispassionately, others that they wanted to become Catholics, whatever might befall. The Protestant minister himself seemed to be touched, and came over to talk to Fr Alban. Later, near the actual moment of hanging, Fr Alban said to him: ‘I will remember you,' and the minister replied: ‘I pray you will'. He also talked to a certain Captain Godfrey, to whom he gave his skull-cap; this caused much comment as Godfrey had not been known for a Catholic before, and when it was reported to Parliament, a reward was offered for his capture.
At length the cart was set beneath the gallows and all five climbed up into it; after some time in prayer the martyrs rose up and put on their ropes as stoles, kissing them like priests vesting for the Sacrifice of the Mass. Then Fr Alban, seeing in the crowd one of the warders from the Fleet prison, said to him: ‘Thou hast often told me that I should be hanged, and truly my unworthiness was such, I could not believe it; but I see thou art a prophet.' While the hangman was making his preparations, Fr Alban gave him something for a drink,' admonishing him to serve God and not to get drunk, and to do his office well. Such cheerfulness was catching, and his aged companion now also turned to the hangman while he was fastening the ropes, and said: ‘Friend, pray let all be secure, and do thy duty neatly; I have been a neat man all my life.' They then said the Miserere twice. The hangman, when he came to Fr Alban, found that he had no handker- chief for covering his face, as he had given it away en route; but Fr Alban, declining one offered him by a bystander, said: ‘The cause for which I die is so good, that I am neither afraid nor ashamed to look on death, nor to be seen by those standing by.' I \
Then commending themselves to God, and once more exhorting their new convert, B. Alban Roe and his companion gave one another Absolution and took leave of the crowd. All three invoked the Holy Name of Jesus, and the cart was drawn away. They hung in their clothes until they were fully dead, and afterwards were quartered.
Bishop Challoner records that after their death ‘many present dipped their handkerchiefs in their blood, others gathered up the bloody straws and what they could get else, going to London with their spoils. The Catholics then present, many in number, seemed even beside themselves with fervour and zeal; and into them that were absent, their glorious example hath put life and alacrity.' The Protestants were hardly less moved; one, having tio handkerchief about him, dipped his glove inside and out and brought it to some Catholic friends where he ‘could not, for weeping, relate what the good man said, and added that many Protestants wept, even the sheriff himself/ Another said: ‘It will be long enough before any of our religion will die as these men do for their faith; they would sooner turn to a hundred religions;' and a Protestant lord said, more accurately, that it would be the cause that two thousand more papists would arise for these two priests. After all this was over, their quarters were brought back to Newgate in baskets about noon of the same day.
The completion of the account comes from an eye-witness, Fr John Hiccocks, a Carmelite, who describes the scene in a letter to a Spanish lady of Toledo. After a brief account of their last hours, he goes on: ‘Their martyrdom took place on Friday, and their quarters and heads were kept in the prison to be put in boiling water before placing them on the gates of the city, at the top of very high poles. The jailors gained not a little by allowing the faithfUl to visit the relics there, during these four or five days, when the faithful for the satisfying of their devotion, by giving money, obtained some parts of those holy members, or some of the prisoners cut pieces off to sell them to the Catholics ... in the end they left neither hands nor feet, and thus the dismembered quarters were placed over the gates of the city last Tuesday during the night.' [3]
Some relics have survived. Dom Bede Camm in his Nine Martyr Monks (1931), pp. 316-17, mentions a piece of linen dipped in Fr Alban's blood, now at Benet House, Cambridge and a sack likewise dipped, probably part of the hangman's apron, now at Downside, and linen or straws stained with blood, at Lanherne, Colwich, Farm St, and Erdington. In addition to these, the Duke of Gueldres, who lived in England as Count Egmont from 1640 till 1645, took back to France with him relics of many martyrs whose deaths he had witnessed. Of Fr Alban he brought ‘his Breviary, a thumb, a piece of burnt lung, a piece of kidney turned to a cinder, the interula (shirt) with(?in) which he was martyred, and a towel dipped in his blood'; also, the ‘apron and sleeves of the torturer'. His statement is translated in the Rambler[2] and is there stated to be in the archives at Lille, but so far enquiry has produced no further information about either the statement or the relics. The part of the hangman's apron now at Downside probably came from the Duke of Gueldres' collection via the Abbey of Lamspring.