9 June 2016

SOME OXFORD MARTYRS

Once a term (on the Saturday, I believe, in Seventh Week, which this term is in a couple of days), the authorities of S John's College in this University open their gates to those who wish to look at their unique collection of late Medieval vestments. These vestments date from the foundation of the college in the reign of Good Queen Mary as part of the reform movement which she, Cardinal Pole, and their bishops were sponsoring. After the dark days of Henry VIII and Edward VI, it must have seemed to right-thinking Christians that all was back to rights again; but Mary's reign was not just a restoration of the old. New standards of clerical professionalism were part of its nascent policy, together with schemes for instructing the laity in their Catholic Faith (Mary's collaborators were not afraid to use some of those precise methods which were used in the previous reign to disseminate heresy). This is England's aborted but briefly glorious Counter-Reformation. Duffy, of course ...

I wonder if there will ever be a national exhibition of what remains of this period - one of the most sparkling quinquennia in our history. If there were, S John's could provide some spectacular exhibits; and in my view the two banners which they possess would have the greatest interest. One is of their Patron, S John Baptist, and shows him in a distinctly baroque style. The other is of our Lady Assumpta; an idiosyncrasy is that the crescent moon on which she stands has, on top of it, a face - the Man-in-the-Moon (another of the vestments on display also shows our Lady upon the crescent Moon; I wonder how early this Baroque commonplace is found in late Medieval English iconography? I have seen it circa 1450 ... can anyone push it earlier?).

But the most remarkable thing about this banner is the name, at the top, of its donor: Thomas Campion. This tells us that Thomas, the father of the future Jesuit martyr S Edmund Campion (martyred 1581), was a supporter of Sir Thomas White, the wealthy Founder of S John's (he had been Warden of the Merchant Taylours). We know, moreover, that S Edmund entered S John's upon its foundation and, being an able Latinist, very soon became a Fellow. In those brief, happy years before the Queen's death, S Edmund must have worshipped in Chapel and looked at the banner of our Lady which his father had given. At the bottom of it among other shields is a shield of the Five Wounds of our Redeemer (the other banner also bears this device). It is difficult not to feel the significance of this: the Tudor rebellions in defence of the old Faith had marched behind this banner; it represened the devotional heart of Catholic England. Even Cranmer knew the popular votive of the Five Wounds so well that in his 1549 Prayer Book he incorporated the text of most of its Collect into his Prayer for the Church and used it twice in his Burial Service. Less than a decade before S Edmund entered S John's, there had been executions in Oxford and throughout Oxfordshire (these Troubles are less well known that the West Country insurrection, possibly because they lacked a chronicler) at the conclusion of the 1549 Rising against Protestantism. The device of the Five Wounds was a mark of identity, of commitment to the historic Faith, and S Edmund must have felt this as he saw it carried.

Those banners, surely, represent the tipping point between a Catholicism that looked back to the old, and the Catholicism of the seminary priests; between the culture of Marian priests surreptitiously saying the old Sarum Rite and that of the young men who brought the Missal of S Pius V back with them to England (at Douay, the students were taught the Missal of S Pius V between December 1576 and April 1577; presumably the Protomartyr of the seminaries, S Cuthbert Mayne, another S John's College man, ordained in 1575, had used the Sarum Rite).

Campion and Mayne were not S John's only martyrs. If you penetrate to the back quadrangle, you will find baroque architecture as fine as any in England: even the dreadful Nikolaus 'Bauhaus' Pevsner saw it as of European significance and quality. The two entrances are framed by statues of blessed Charles Stuart, King and Martyr, and his Queen Henrietta Maria. This building was done in the 1630s*, the decade in which England and Rome were most nearly reunited; and the builder was our martyred archbishop William Laud ... he and his King both parts of the glorious baggage of the Anglican Patrimony. The St John's exhibition includes blessed William Laud's zucchetto, and a dark satin cope linked with his name (he was President of the College).
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*A pilgrimage to this fascinating decade would include this quadrangle, the glass in Magdalen Chapel, and the Porch of the University Church with its statue of our Lady. What else? The 1640's, of course, would bring in all the colleges used when Oxford was the administrative capital of Royalist England, and the monuments to dead royalists in the Lucy Chapel in the Cathedral.

6 comments:

William Tighe said...


"A pilgrimage to this fascinating decade would include this quadrangle, the glass in Magdalen Chapel, and the Porch of the University Church with its statue of our Lady. What else?"

The chapel of Lincoln College, and esp. its windows?

Banshee said...

You will appreciate this. One of the broadsides about the martyrdom of one of the Irish Catholic bishops of Emly, Blessed Terence (Toirdealbhach) Albert O'Brien, actually rips off a broadside about the death of Archbishop Laud. I posted about it on my blog somewhere, with links....

Anyway, his real death speech is awesome enough; it included prophecy (or possibly just medical diagnosis) of the fate of General Ireton; and his day is October 30.

Banshee said...

Here's the place where I link to both the Laud pamphlet and the rip-off pamphlet.

"Toirdhealbhach" ("tower-shaped man") was a pretty common given name in Ireland and that's what the bishop's parents would have called him.* "Terence" was the functional equivalent for use by English speakers; it may also have been his baptismal name if the local priest was a stickler for only saints in the Roman Calendar.** "Albert" was what he added when he became a Dominican friar.

* The name is also Anglicized as "Turlough" or "Tarlach." But it's still really Tordelbach/Toirdhealbhach.

** There really don't seem to be any St. Tordelbachs, besides the Blessed himself, even though it was a name used by Irish and Scottish Catholics from the 5th century or so. There is a St. Dalbhach of Cuil, which is at least in the neighborhood.

St. Flannan of Killaloe's dad's name was Tordelbach, but that's not the same thing. However, this Tordelbach was a pious king of Thomond, and was said to have been the first Irish king to retire to a monastery (Lismore, then very remote) at the end of his life. He was buried in Killaloe (which was more convenient to family).

But anyway, I'm not going to be too hard on the current baptismal name regulations, even though it is very good for kids to have a saint's name.

El Codo said...

Father Sometimes your championing of the Ordinariate grates but this article shows you at the very top of your game. Thank you.

Oliver Nicholson said...

What, Father, do you make of the fact that Edward Pococke, another S. John's man and a protegé of Laud, indeed the first Laudian Professor of Arabic is the first person I know to be portrayed wearing a mortarboard in the modern manner (presumably as a result of the sumptuary regulations in the Laudian Statutes) - both on his monument in the Cathedral and in the oil painting in the Lower Reading Room of Bodley.

Thomas said...

@Banshee: Correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't the pronunciation of Toirdhealbhach be more like "Toryelfhach", which makes Turlough a closer approximation especially as the aspirated "b" can be completely elided in some dialects. (Although the ancient name probably began without aspirated consonants).

As for the demand for saintly baptismal names; I heard a story of a mother who presented her child for baptism to an elderly Irish Monsignor. He asked what name the child had been given and she said "Nigel". When he objected "There is no St. Nigel", she simply answered "Not yet!"