The Story, Life, and Martyrdom of Master John Hooper, Bishop of Worcester and Gloucester
THE STORY, LIFE, AND MARTYRDOM OF MASTER JOHN HOOPER, BISHOP OF WORCESTER AND GLOUCESTER
JOHN HOOPER, student and graduate in the University of Oxford, after the study of the sciences, wherein he had abundantly profited through God’s secret vocation, was stirred with fervent desire to the love and knowledge of the Scriptures: in the reading and searching whereof, as there lacked in him no diligence, joined with earnest prayer, so neither wanted unto him the grace of the Holy Ghost to satisfy his desire, and to open unto him the light of true divinity.
Thus Master Hooper, growing more and more, by God’s grace, in ripeness of spiritual understanding, and showing withal some sparkles of his fervent spirit, fell eftsoons into displeasure and hatred of certain rabbins in Oxford, who began to stir coals against him; whereby, and especially by the procurement of Dr Smith, he was compelled to avoid the University; and removing from thence, was retained in the house of Sir Thomas Arundel, and there was his steward, till the time that Sir Thomas Arundel, having intelligence of his opinions and religion, which he in no case did favour, and yet exceedingly favouring the person of the man, found the means to send him in a message to the Bishop of Winchester, writing his letter privily to the bishop, by conference of learning to do some good upon him; but in any case requiring him to send home his servant to him again.
Winchester, after conference with Master Hooper four or five days together, when he perceived that neither he could do that good which he thought to him, nor that he would take any good at his hand, according to Master Arundel’s request, sent home his servant again; right well commending his learning and wit, but yet bearing in his breast a grudging stomach against Master Hooper still.
It followed not long after this, as malice is always working mischief, that intelligence was given to Master Hooper to provide for himself, for danger that was working against him. Whereupon Master Hooper, leaving Master Arundel’s house, and borrowing a horse of a certain friend (whose life he had saved a little before from the gallows), took his journey to the sea-side to go to France, sending back the horse again.
Master Hooper, being at Paris, tarried there not long, but in short time returned into England, and was retained of Master Sentlow, till the time that he was again molested; whereby he was compelled, under the pretence of being captain of a ship going to Ireland, to take the seas. And so escaped he (although not without extreme peril of drowning) through France, to the higher parts of Germany; where he, entering acquaintance with the learned men, was of them friendly and lovingly entertained, at Basil, and especially at Zurich, of Master Bullinger, being his singular friend. There also he married his wife who was a Burgonian, and applied very studiously to the Hebrew tongue.
When God saw good to give us King Edward to reign over this realm, with some peace and rest unto his Gospel, amongst many other English exiles who repaired homeward, Master Hooper also, moved in conscience, thought not to absent himself; but, seeing such a time and occasion, offered to help forward the Lord’s work, to the uttermost of his ability. And so, coming to Master Bullinger, and other of his acquaintance (as duty required), to give them thanks for their singular kindness and humanity toward him manifold ways declared, with like humanity purposed to take his leave of them. Unto whom Master Bullinger spake on this wise:—
‘Master Hooper,’ said he, ‘although we are sorry to part with your company for our own cause, yet much greater causes we have to rejoice, both for your sake, and especially for the cause of Christ’s true religion, that you shall now return, out of long banishment, into your native country again; where not only you may enjoy your own private liberty, but also the cause and state of Christ’s Church, by you, may fare the better; as we doubt not but it shall.
‘Another cause, moreover, why we rejoice with you and for you, is this: that you shall remove not only out of exile into liberty; but you shall leave here a barren, a sour and an unpleasant country, rude and savage; and shall go into a land flowing with milk and honey, replenished with all pleasure and fertility.
‘Notwithstanding, with this our rejoicing one fear and care we have, lest you, being absent, and so far distant from us, or else coming to such abundance of wealth and felicity, in your new welfare and plenty of all things, and in your flourishing honours, where ye shall come, peradventure, to be a bishop, and where ye shall find so many new friends, you will forget us your old acquaintance and well-willers. Nevertheless, howsoever you shall forget and shake us off, yet this persuade yourself, that we will not forget our old friend and fellow Master Hooper. And if you will please not to forget us again, then I pray you let us hear from you.’
Whereunto Master Hooper answered again that neither the nature of country, nor pleasure of commodities, nor newness of friends, should ever induce him to the oblivion of such friends and benefactors, ‘and therefore,’ said he, ‘from time to time I will write unto you, how it goeth with me. But the last news of all, I shall not be able to write: for there’ said he (taking Master Bullinger by the hand), ‘where I shall take most pains, there shall you hear of me to be burned to ashes.’
Master Hooper, coming to London, used continually to preach, most times twice, at least once, every day; and never failed. The people in great flocks daily came to hear his voice, as the most melodious sound and tune of Orpheus’s harp, as the proverb saith; insomuch that oftentimes when he was preaching, the church would be so full, that none could enter further than the doors thereof. In his doctrine he was earnest, in tongue eloquent, in the Scriptures perfect, in pains indefatigable.
Even as he began, so he continued unto his life’s end. For neither could his labour and painstaking break him, neither promotion change him, neither dainty fare corrupt him. His life was so pure and good, that no kind of slander could fasten any fault upon him. He was of body strong, his health whole and sound, his wit very pregnant, his invincible patience able to sustain whatsoever sinister fortune and adversity could do. He was constant of judgment, a good justicer, spare of diet, sparer of words, and sparest of time: in house-keeping very liberal, and sometimes more free than his living would extend unto. He bare in countenance and talk always a certain severe grace, which might, peradventure, be wished sometimes to have been a little more popular in him: but he knew what he had to do best himself.
This, by the way, I thought to note, for that there was once an honest citizen, and to me not unknown, who, having in himself a certain grudge of conscience, came to Master Hooper’s door for counsel: but, being abashed at his austere look, durst not come in, but departed, seeking remedy of his troubled mind at other men’s hands. In my judgment, such as are made governors over the flock of Christ, to teach and instruct them, ought so to frame their life, manners, countenance, and external behaviour, as neither they show themselves too familiar and light, whereby to be brought into contempt, nor, on the other side, that they appear more lofty and austere, than appertaineth to the edifying of the simple flock of Christ.
At length, and that not without the great profit of many, Master Hooper was called to preach before the King’s majesty, and soon after made Bishop of Gloucester. In that office he continued two years, and behaved himself so well, that his very enemies (except it were for his good doing, and sharp correcting of sin) could find no fault with him. After that, he was made Bishop of Worcester.
But I cannot tell what sinister and unlucky contention concerning the ordering and consecration of bishops, and of their apparel, with such other like trifles, began to disturb the good and lucky beginning of the godly bishop. For notwithstanding that godly reformation of religion then begun in the Church of England, besides other ceremonies more ambitious than profitable, or tending to edification, they used to wear such garments and apparel as the popish bishops were wont to do: first a chimere, and under that a white rochet: then, a mathematical cap with four angles, dividing the whole world into four parts. These trifles, tending more to superstition than otherwise, as he could never abide, so in no wise could he be persuaded to wear them. For this cause he made supplication to the King’s majesty, most humbly desiring His Highness, either to discharge him of the bishopric, or else to dispense with him for such ceremonial orders; whose petition the King granted immediately.
Notwithstanding, the bishops still stood earnestly in the defence of the aforesaid ceremonies; saying it was but a small matter, and that the fault was in the abuse of the things, and not in the things themselves: adding moreover, that he ought not to be so stubborn in so light a matter; and that his wilfulness therein was not to be suffered.
Whilst both parties thus contended more than reason would, occasion was given to the true Christians to lament, to the adversaries to rejoice. This theological contention came to this end: that the bishops having the upper hand, Master Hooper was fain to agree to this condition—that sometimes he should in his sermon show himself apparelled as the other bishops were. Wherefore appointed to preach before the King, as a new player in a strange apparel, he cometh forth on the stage. His upper garment was a long scarlet chimere down to the foot, and under that a white linen rochet that covered all his shoulders. Upon his head he had a geometrical, that is, a four-squared cap, albeit that his head was round. What cause of shame the strangeness hereof was that day to that good preacher, every man may easily judge.
Master Hooper, entering into his diocese, was so careful in his cure, that he left neither pains untaken, nor ways unsought, how to train up the flock of Christ in the true word of salvation. No father in his household, no gardener in his garden, nor husbandman in his vineyard, was more or better occupied, than he in his diocese amongst his flock, going about his towns and villages in teaching and preaching to the people.
The time that he had to spare from preaching, he bestowed either in hearing public causes, or else in private study, prayer, and visiting of schools. With his continual doctrine he adjoined due and discreet correction, not so much severe to any, as to them which for abundance of riches, and wealthy state, thought they might do what they listed. He spared no kind of people, but was indifferent to all men, as well rich as poor. His life, in fine, was such, that to the Church and all churchmen, it might be a light and example; to the rest a perpetual lesson and sermon.
Though he bestowed the most part of his care upon the flock of Christ, for the which He spent His blood; yet, nevertheless, there lacked no provision in him to bring up his own children in learning and good manners; insomuch that ye could not discern whether he deserved more praise for his fatherly usage at home, or for his bishop-like doings abroad: for everywhere he kept one religion in one uniform doctrine and integrity. So that if you entered into the bishop’s palace, you would suppose yourself to have entered into some church or temple. In every corner thereof there was some smell of virtue, good example, honest conversation, and reading of holy Scriptures. There was not to be seen in his house any courtly roisting or idleness; no pomp at all; no dishonest word, no swearing could there be heard.
As for the revenues of both his bishoprics, he pursed nothing, but bestowed it in hospitality. Twice I was, as I remember, in his house in Worcester, where, in his common hall, I saw a table spread with good store of meat, and beset full of beggars and poor folk: and I, asking his servants what this meant, they told me that every day their lord and master’s manner was, to have to dinner a certain number of poor folk of the said city by course, who were served by four at a mess, with hot and wholesome meats; and, when they were served (being before examined by him or his deputies of the Lord’s prayer, the articles of their faith, and the ten commandments), then he himself sat down to dinner, and not before.
King Edward being dead, and Mary being crowned Queen of England, this good bishop was one of the first that was sent for to be at London. And, although the said Master Hooper was not ignorant of the evils that should happen towards him (for he was admonished by certain of his friends to get him away, and shift for himself), yet he would not prevent them, but tarried still, saying: ‘Once I did flee, and take me to my feet; but now, because I am called to this place and vocation, I am thoroughly persuaded to tarry, and to live and die with my sheep.’
And when at the day of his appearance, which was the first of September 1553, he was come to London, he was received very opprobriously. He freely and boldly told his tale, and purged himself. But, in fine, it came to this conclusion, that by them he was commanded to ward; it being declared unto him at his departure, that the cause of his imprisonment was only for certain sums of money, for which he was indebted to the Queen, and not for religion.
The next year, being 1554, the 19th of March, he was called again to appear before Winchester, and other the Queen’s commissioners. The Lord Chancellor asked whether he was married. ‘Yea, my lord,’ replied Master Hooper, ‘and will not be unmarried till death unmarry me.’ The commissioners began to make such outcries, and laughed, and used such gesture, as was unseemly for the place. The Bishop of Chichester, Dr Day, called Master Hooper ‘hypocrite,’ with vehement words, and scornful countenance. Bishop Tonstal called him ‘beast:’ so did Smith, one of the clerks of the council, and divers others that stood by.
Tonstal, Bishop of Durham, asked Master Hooper, whether he believed the corporal presence in the sacrament. And Master Hooper said plainly, that there was none such, neither did he believe any such thing. Then asked Winchester what authority moved him not to believe the corporal presence? He said, the authority of God’s Word. Whereupon they bade the notaries write that he was married; and said, that he would not go from his wife, and that he believed not the corporal presence in the sacrament: wherefore he was worthy to be deprived of his bishopric.
The true Report of Master Hooper’s Entertainment in the Fleet; written with his own Hand, the 7th of January, 1555.
The 1st of September, 1553, I was committed unto the Fleet from Richmond, to have the liberty of the prison; and, within six days after, I paid for my liberty five pounds sterling to the warden, for fees: who, immediately upon the payment thereof, complained unto Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester; and so was I committed to close prison one quarter of a year in the Tower-chamber of the Fleet, and used very extremely.
Then by the means of a good gentlewoman, I had liberty to come down to dinner and supper, not suffered to speak with any of my friends; but, as soon as dinner and supper was done, to repair to my chamber again. Notwithstanding, while I came down thus to dinner and supper, the warden and his wife picked quarrels with me, and complained untruly of me to their great friend the Bishop of Winchester.
After one quarter of a year and somewhat more, Babington the warden, and his wife, fell out with me for the wicked mass; and thereupon the warden resorted to the Bishop of Winchester, and obtained to put me into the wards, where I have continued a long time; having nothing appointed to me for my bed, but a little pad of straw and a rotten covering, with a tick and a few feathers therein, the chamber being vile and stinking, until by God’s means good people sent me bedding to lie in.
On the one side of which prison is the sink and filth of all the house, and on the other side the town-ditch, so that the stench of the house hath infected me with sundry diseases.—During which time I have been sick; and the doors, bars, hasps, and chains being all closed, and made fast upon me, I have mourned, called, and cried for help. But the warden, when he hath known me many times ready to die, and when the poor men of the wards have called to help me, hath commanded the doors to be kept fast, and charged that none of his men should come at me, saying, ‘Let him alone; it were a good riddance of him.’
I paid always like a baron to the said warden, as well in fees, as for my board, which was twenty shillings a week, besides my man’s table, until I was wrongfully deprived of my bishopric; and, since that time, I have paid him as the best gentleman doth in his house; yet hath he used me worse, and more vilely, than the veriest slave that ever came to the hall-commons.
The said warden hath also imprisoned my man William Downton, and stripped him out of his clothes to search for letters, and could find none, but only a little remembrance of good people’s names, that gave me their alms to relieve me in prison; and to undo them also, the warden delivered the same bill unto the said Stephen Gardiner, God’s enemy and mine.
I have suffered imprisonment almost eighteen months, my goods, living, friends, and comfort taken from me; the Queen owing me by just account four score pounds or more. She hath put me in prison, and giveth nothing to find me, neither is there suffered any to come at me whereby I might have relief. I am with a wicked man and woman, so that I see no remedy (saving God’s help), but I shall be cast away in prison before I come to judgment. But I commit my cause to God, Whose will be done, whether it be by life or death.
The 22nd of January following, 1555, Babington, the warden of the Fleet, was commanded to bring Master Hooper before the Bishop of Winchester, with other bishops and commissioners, at the said Winchester’s house, at St Mary Overy’s. The Bishop of Winchester moved Master Hooper earnestly to forsake the evil and corrupt doctrine (as he termed it) preached in the days of King Edward the Sixth, and to return to the unity of the catholic Church, and to acknowledge the Pope’s holiness to be head of the same Church, according to the determination of the whole parliament; promising, that as he himself, with other his brethren, had received the Pope’s blessing, and the Queen’s mercy; even so mercy was ready to be showed to him and others, if he would condescend to the Pope’s holiness.
Master Hooper answered, that forasmuch as the Pope taught doctrine altogether contrary to the doctrine of Christ, he was not worthy to be head thereof; wherefore he would in no wise condescend to any such usurped jurisdiction. Neither esteemed he the Church, whereof they call him head, to be the catholic church of Christ: for the Church only heareth the voice of her spouse Christ, and flieth the strangers. ‘Howbeit,’ saith he, ‘if in any point, to me unknown, I have offended the Queen’s majesty, I shall most humbly submit myself to her mercy; if mercy may be had with safety of conscience and without the displeasure of God.’ Answer was made that the Queen would show no mercy to the Pope’s enemies. Whereupon Babington was commanded to bring him to the Fleet again.
The 28th of January, Winchester and the commissioners sat in judgment at St Mary Overy’s, where Master Hooper appeared before them at afternoon again; and there, after much reasoning and disputation to and fro, he was commanded aside, till Master Rogers (who was then come) had been likewise examined. Examinations being ended, the two sheriffs of London were commanded, about four of the clock, to carry them to the Compter in Southwark, there to remain till the morrow at nine o’clock, to see whether they would relent and come home again to the catholic Church.
So Master Hooper went before with one of the sheriffs, and Master Rogers came after with the other, and being out of church door, Master Hooper looked back, and stayed a little till Master Rogers drew near, unto whom he said ‘Come, brother Rogers! must we two take this matter first in hand, and begin to fry these faggots?’
‘Yea, sir,’ said Master Rogers, ‘by God’s grace.’
‘Doubt not,’ said Master Hooper, ‘but God will give strength.’
So going forwards, there was such a press of people in the streets, who rejoiced at their constancy, that they had much ado to pass.
Upon the next day, they were brought again by the sheriffs before the said Bishop and commissioners. After long and earnest talk, when they perceived that Master Hooper would by no means condescend unto them, they condemned him to be degraded, and read unto him his condemnation. That done, Master Rogers was brought before them, and in like manner entreated, and so they delivered both of them to the secular power, the two sheriffs of London, who were willed to carry them to the Clink, a prison not far from the Bishop of Winchester’s house, and there to remain till night.
When it was dark, Master Hooper was led by one of the sheriffs, with many bills and weapons, first through the Bishop of Winchester’s house, and so over London-bridge, through the city to Newgate. And by the way some of the sergeants were willed to go before, and put out the costermongers’ candles, who used to sit with lights in the streets: either fearing, of likelihood, that the people would have made some attempt to have taken him away from them by force, if they had seen him go to that prison; or else, being burdened with an evil conscience, they thought darkness to be a most fit season for such a business.
But notwithstanding this device, the people having some foreknowledge of his coming, many of them came forth of their doors with lights, and saluted him; praising God for his constancy in the true doctrine which he had taught them, and desiring God to strengthen him in the same to the end. Master Hooper passed by, and required the people to make their earnest prayers to God for him: and so went through Cheapside to the place appointed, and was delivered as close prisoner to the keeper of Newgate, where he remained six days, nobody being permitted to come to him, or talk with him, saving his keepers, and such as should be appointed thereto.
During this time, Bonner, Bishop of London, and others at his appointment, resorted divers times unto him to assay if by any means they could persuade him to relent, and become a member of their antichristian church. All the ways they could devise, they attempted: for, besides the allegations of testimonies of the Scriptures, and of ancient writers wrested to a wrong sense, according to their accustomed manner, they also used all outward gentleness and significations of friendship, with many great proffers and promises of worldly commodities; not omitting also most grievous threatenings, if with gentleness they could not prevail: but they found him always the same man, steadfast and immovable.
When they perceived that they could by no means reclaim him to their purpose with such persuasions and offers as they used for his conversion, then went they about, by false rumours and reports of recantations, to bring him and the doctrine of Christ which he professed, out of credit with the people. So the bruit being spread abroad, and believed of some of the weaker sort, by reason of the often resort of the Bishop of London and others, it at last came to Master Hooper’s ears: wherewith he was not a little grieved, that the people should give credit unto false rumours. ‘The report abroad (as I am credibly informed) is that I, John Hooper, a condemned man for the cause of Christ, should now, after sentence of death (being in Newgate, prisoner, and looking daily for execution) recant and abjure that which heretofore I have preached. And this talk ariseth of this, that the Bishop of London and his chaplains resort unto me. I have spoken and do speak with them when they come; for I fear not their arguments, neither is death terrible unto me; and I am more confirmed in the truth which I have preached heretofore, by their coming. I have left all things of the world, and suffered great pains and imprisonment, and, I thank God, I am as ready to suffer death, as a mortal man may be. 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.’
Monday, the 4th of February, his keeper gave him an inkling that he should be sent to Gloucester to suffer death, whereat he rejoiced very much, lifting up his eyes and hands unto heaven, and 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 the Lord would give him strength to perform the same to His glory. And immediately he sent to his servant’s house for his boots, spurs, and cloak, that he might be in a readiness to ride when he should be called.
The next day following, about four o’clock in the morning before day, the keeper with others came to him and searched him, and the bed wherein he lay, to see if he had written any thing; and then he was led by the sheriffs of London, and their officers, forth of Newgate to a place appointed, not far from St Dunstan’s church in Fleet Street, where six of the Queen’s guards were appointed to receive him, and to carry him to Gloucester, there to be delivered unto the sheriff, who, with the Lord Chandos, Master Wicks, and other commissioners, were appointed to see execution done.
The which guard brought him to the Angel, where he brake his fast with them, eating his meat at that time more liberally than he had used to do a good while before. About the break of the day he went to horse, and leaped cheerfully on horseback without help, having a hood upon his head under his hat, that he should not be known. And so he took his journey joyfully towards Gloucester, and always by the way the guard learned of him where he was accustomed to bait or lodge; and ever carried him to another inn.
On the Thursday following, he came to a town in his diocese called Cirencester, fifteen miles from Gloucester, about eleven o’clock, and there dined at a woman’s house who had always hated the truth, and spoken all evil she could of Master Hooper. This woman, perceiving the cause of his coming, showed him all the friendship she could, and lamented his case with tears; confessing that she before had often reported, that if he were put to the trial, he would not stand to his doctrine.
After dinner he rode forwards, and came to Gloucester about five o’clock; and a mile without the town was much people assembled, which cried and lamented his estate, insomuch that one of the guard rode post into the town, to require aid of the mayor and sheriffs, fearing lest he should have been taken from them. The officers and their retinue repaired to the gate with weapons, and commanded the people to keep their houses; but there was no man that once gave any signification of any such rescue or violence.
So was he lodged at one Ingram’s house in Gloucester; and that night (as he had done all the way) he did eat his meat quietly, and slept his first sleep soundly, as it was reported by them of the guard, and others. After his first sleep he continued all that night in prayer until the morning; and then he desired that he might go into the next chamber (for the guard were also in the chamber where he lay), that there, being solitary, he might pray and talk with God: so that all the day, saving a little at meat, and when he talked at any time with such as the guard licensed to speak with him, he bestowed in prayer.
Amongst others that spake with him, Sir Anthony Kingston, Knight, was one; who, seeming in time past his very friend, was then appointed by the Queen’s letters to be one of the commissioners, to see execution done upon him. Master Kingston, being brought into the chamber, found him at his prayer: and as soon as he saw Master Hooper, he burst forth in tears. Master Hooper at the first blush knew him not. Then said Master Kingston, ‘Why, my lord, do you not know me, an old friend of yours, Anthony Kingston?’
Hooper: ‘Yes, Master Kingston, I do now know you well, and am glad to see you in health, and do praise God for the same.’
Kingston: ‘But I am sorry to see you in this case; for as I understand you be come hither to die. But, alas, consider that life is sweet, and death is bitter. Therefore, seeing life may be had, desire to live; for life hereafter may do good.’
Hooper: ‘Indeed it is true, Master Kingston, I am come hither to end this life, and to suffer death here, because I will not gainsay the former truth that I have heretofore taught amongst you in this diocese, and elsewhere; 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, alas consider that the death to come is more bitter, and the life to come is more sweet. Therefore, for the desire and love I have to the one, and the terror and fear of the other; I do not so much regard this death, nor esteem this life, but 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 to deny the truth of His Word; desiring you, and others, in the meantime, to commend me to God’s mercy in your prayers.’
Kingston: ‘Well, my lord, then I perceive there is no remedy, and therefore I will take my leave of you: and I thank God that ever I knew you; for God did appoint you to call me, being a lost child.’
Hooper: I do highly praise God for it: and I pray God you may continually live in His fear.’
After these, and many other words, the one took leave of the other; Master Kingston, with bitter tears, Master Hooper with tears also trickling down his cheeks. At which departure Master Hooper told him that all the troubles he had sustained in prison had not caused him to utter so much sorrow.
The same day in the afternoon, a blind boy, after long intercession made to the guard, obtained license to be brought unto Master Hooper’s speech. The same boy not long afore had suffered imprisonment at Gloucester for confessing of the truth. Master Hooper, after he had examined him of his faith, and the cause of his imprisonment, beheld him steadfastly, and (the water appearing in his eyes) said unto him, ‘Ah, poor boy! God hath taken from thee thy outward sight, for what reason He best knoweth: but He hath given thee another sight much more precious, for He hath endued thy soul with the eye of knowledge and faith. God give thee grace continually to pray unto Him, that thou lose not that sight; for then shouldest thou be blind both in body and soul!’
The same night he was committed by the guard, their commission being then expired, unto the custody of the sheriffs of Gloucester, who, with the mayor and aldermen, repaired to Master Hooper’s lodging, and took him by the hand.
Unto whom Hooper spake on this manner: ‘Master mayor, I give most hearty thanks to you, and to the rest of your brethren, that you have vouchsafed to take me, a prisoner and a condemned man, by the hand; whereby to my rejoicing it is some deal apparent that your old love and friendship towards me is not altogether extinguished; and I trust also that all the things I have taught you in times past are not utterly forgotten, when I was here, by the godly King that dead is, appointed to be your bishop and pastor. For the which most true and sincere doctrine, because I will not now account it falsehood and heresy, as many other men do, I am sent hither (as I am sure you know) by the Queen’s commandment to die; and am come where I taught it, to confirm it with my blood. And now, master sheriffs, I understand by these good men, and my very friends’ (meaning the guard), ‘at whose hands I have found so much favour and gentleness, by the way hitherward, as a prisoner could reasonably require (for the which also I most heartily thank them), that I am committed to your custody, as unto them that must see me brought to-morrow to the place of execution. My request therefore to you shall be only, that there may be a quick fire, shortly to make an end; and in the meantime I will be as obedient unto you, as yourselves would wish. If you think I do amiss in any thing, hold up your finger, and I have done: for I am not come hither as one enforced or compelled to die (for it is well known, I might have had my life with worldly gain); but as one willing to offer and give my life for the truth, rather than consent to the wicked papistical religion of the Bishop of Rome, received and set forth by the magistrates in England, to God’s high displeasure and dishonour; and I trust, by God’s grace, to-morrow to die a faithful servant of God, and a true obedient subject to the Queen.’
These words used Master Hooper to the mayor, sheriffs, and aldermen, whereat many of them lamented. Notwithstanding the two sheriffs were determined to have lodged him in the common gaol of the town, called Northgate, if the guard had not made earnest intercession for him; who declared, how quietly, mildly, and patiently, he had behaved himself in the way; adding thereto, that any child might keep him well enough, and that they themselves would rather take pains to watch with him, than that he should be sent to the common prison.
So it was determined he should still remain in Robert Ingram’s house; and the sheriffs and the sergeants, and other officers, did appoint to watch with him that night themselves. His desire was, that he might go to bed that night betimes, saying, that he had many things to remember: and so he did at five of the clock, and slept one sleep soundly, and bestowed the rest of the night in prayer. After he got up in the morning, he desired that no man should be suffered to come into the chamber, that he might be solitary till the hour of execution.
About eight o’clock came Sir John Bridges, Lord Chandos, with a great band of men, Sir Anthony Kingston, Sir Edmund Bridges, and other commissioners appointed to see execution done. At nine o’clock Master Hooper was willed to prepare himself to be in a readiness, for the time was at hand. Immediately he was brought down from his chamber by the sheriffs, who were accompanied with bills, glaves, and weapons. When he saw the multitude of weapons, he spake to the sheriffs on this wise: ‘Master sheriffs,’ said he, ‘I am no traitor, neither needed you to have made such a business to bring me to the place where I must suffer: for if ye had willed me, I would have gone alone to the stake, and have troubled none of you all.’ A multitude of people assembled to the number of seven thousand, for it was market-day, and many came to see his behaviour towards death.
So he went forward, 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 grief of the sciatica, which he had taken in prison, caused him somewhat to halt. He would look very 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 ruddish a countenance as he did at that present. When he came to the place appointed where he should die, smilingly he beheld the stake and preparation made for him, which was near unto the great elm-tree, over against the college of priests, 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 wolvish blood-suckers and turnelings, the priests of the college.
Then kneeled he down, forasmuch as he could not be suffered to speak unto the people. After he was somewhat entered into his prayer, a box was brought and laid before him upon a stool, with his pardon (or at least-wise it was feigned to be his pardon) from the Queen, if he would turn. At the sight whereof he cried, ‘If you love my soul, away with it! if you love my soul, away with it!’
Prayer being done, he prepared himself to the stake, and put off his host’s gown, and delivered it to the sheriffs, requiring them to see it restored unto the owner, and put off the rest of his gear, unto his doublet and hose, wherein he would have burned. But the sheriffs would not permit that, such was their greediness; unto whose pleasures, good man, he very obediently submitted himself; and his doublet, hose, and petticoat were taken off. Then, being in his shirt, he took a point from his hose himself, and trussed his shirt between his legs, where he had a pound of gunpowder in a bladder, and under each arm the like quantity, delivered him by the guard.
So, desiring the people to say the Lord’s prayer with him, and to pray for him (who performed it with tears, during the time of his pains), he went up to the stake. The hoop of iron prepared for his middle was brought, but when they offered to have bound his neck and legs with the other two hoops of iron, he utterly refused them.
Thus being ready, he looked upon all the people, of whom he might be well seen (for he was both tall, and stood also on a high stool), and in every corner there was nothing to be seen but weeping and sorrowful people. Then, lifting up his eyes and hands unto heaven, he prayed to himself. By and by, he that was appointed to make the fire, came to him, and did ask him forgiveness. Of whom he asked why he should forgive him, saying, that he knew never any offence he had committed against him. ‘O sir!’ said the man, ‘I am appointed to make the fire.’ ‘Therein,’ said Master Hooper, ‘thou dost nothing offend me; God forgive thee thy sins, and do thine office, I pray thee.’
Then the reeds were cast up, and he received two bundles of them in his own hands, embraced them, kissed them, and put under either arm one of them, and showed with his hand how the rest should be bestowed, and pointed to the place where any did lack.
Anon commandment was given that the fire should be set to. But because there were put to no fewer green faggots than two horses could carry upon their backs, it kindled not by and by, and was a pretty while also before it took the reeds upon the faggots. At length it burned about him, but the wind having full strength in that place (it was a lowering and cold morning), it blew the flame from him, so that he was in a manner nothing but touched by the fire.
Within a space after, a few dry faggots were brought, and a new fire kindled with faggots (for there were no more reeds), and that burned at the nether parts, but had small power above, because of the wind, saving that it did burn his hair, and swell his skin a little. In the time of which fire even as at the first flame, he prayed, saying mildly and not very loud (but as one without pains), ‘O Jesus, the Son of David, have mercy upon me, and receive my soul!’ After the second was spent, he did wipe both his eyes with his hands, and beholding the people, he said with an indifferent loud voice, ‘For God’s love, good people, let me have more fire!’ And all this while his nether parts did burn: for the faggots were so few, that the flame did not burn strongly at his upper parts.
The third fire was kindled within a while after, which was more extreme than the other two: and then the bladders of gunpowder brake, which did him small good, they were so placed, and the wind had such power. In the which fire he prayed with somewhat a loud voice, ‘Lord Jesus, have mercy upon me; Lord Jesus, have mercy upon me: Lord Jesus receive my spirit.’ And these were the last words he was heard to utter. But when he was black in the mouth, and his tongue swollen, that he could not speak, yet his lips went till they were shrunk to the gums: and he knocked his breast with his hands, until one of his arms fell off and then knocked still with the other, what time the fat, water, and blood, dropped out at his fingers’ ends, until by renewing of the fire his strength was gone, and his hand did cleave fast, in knocking, to the iron upon his breast. So immediately, bowing forwards, he yielded up his spirit.
Thus was he three quarters of an hour or more in the fire. Even as a lamb, patiently he abode the extremity thereof, neither moving forwards, backwards, nor to any side: but he died as quietly as a child in his bed. And he now reigneth, I doubt not, as a blessed martyr in the joys of heaven, prepared for the faithful in Christ before the foundations of the world; for whose constancy all Christians are bound to praise God.