Oscott

Last week I visited St Mary's College, Oscott, the seminary for the Archdiocese of Birmingham, in order to collect some archival materials. It seemed quite a happy place and three members of the staff (including the Vice-Rector) were contemporaries of mine in Rome. The College has a fine building, designed by Pugin and with stunning views over Birmingham (particularly impressive at night, when flickering lights replace the uglier aspects of the urban sprawl).

In the Pranzorium, where the staff (and guests) have breakfast, there is a wonderful collection of portraits of past Presidents, including two of the greatest Vicars Apostolic of the Midland District.

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This is Bishop John Milner (1752-1826), whom Newman called 'the English Athanasius.' He offered a new model of what an English Catholic bishop should be – confident, unafraid of controversy, keen to uphold the primacy of ecclesiastical authority and defend orthodoxy, and also truly pastoral. Many of his fiery opinions could be found in the appropriately named Orthodox Journal. Milner moved the Church away from dependence on the great Catholic families and looked towards the victory of Ultramontanism later in the nineteenth century.

This is Bishop Thomas Walsh (1777-1849), who was moved to London in the last year of his life, with the expectation that he would become the first Archbishop of Westminster after the restoration of the Hierarchy. He died and Wiseman filled his shoes. As bishop in the Midlands, what marked Walsh out was the grandeur of his vision and his openness towards new forces within the Catholic community, such as the Oxford converts and the gothis revival. At his death in 1849, The Tablet observed that ‘it is to his Episcopacy that posterity will trace the great development of ecclesiastical architecture which forms so distinctive a feature in the history of our period.’ A keen supporter of Pugin, Walsh oversaw the opening of a number of churches and institutions that were gems of the gothic revival: the future Cathedrals of Birmingham (St Chad’s) and Nottingham, New Oscott, the Trappist monastery at Mount St Bernard’s, the glorious churches at Cheadle and Derby, and the religious houses of Hanley, Ratcliffe and Aston. Many of these ambitious projects were made possible through the patronage of John Talbot, sixteenth earl of Shrewsbury, and Ambrose Phillips de Lisle.

Walsh’s vision for Oscott was to make it a centre of Catholic life and scholarship that would provide a home for many of the converts. Pugin was given the task of decorating and furnishing the chapel, using ornaments ‘executed by ancient artists in the days of faith’ but ‘torn by heretical and revolutionary violence from their original positions in the noble churches of France and Belgium,’ and restoring ‘the ample and dignified vestments which were anciently used in this land.’ Walsh bought an impressive library that had been made available in Rome and appointed converts like George Spencer to high positions.

Catholic Anniversaries in 2009

Two big Catholic anniversaries with Hertfordshire connections - the martyrdom of St Alban and the death of Pope Adrian IV (formerly Nicholas Breakspear).

As usual Roman Miscellany begins the new year by noting some important anniversaries in 2009 that may be of interest to readers:

9 January – 1300th Anniversary of the death of St Adrian, the only African Archbishop of Canterbury (so far), and Centenary of the birth of Fr Patrick Peyton, the 'Rosary Priest.'
15 January – Centenary of the death of St Arnold Janssen, founder of Divine Word Missionaries
20 January – 300th Anniversary of the death of François de la Chaise SJ, confessor to Louis XIV
3 February – 100th birthday of Simone Weil, philosopher and religious writer
21 April - 900th Anniversary of the death of St Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury and Doctor of the Church

24 April – 1300th Anniversary of the death of St Wilfrid, bishop of York
17 March - 200th birthday of Ambrose Phillipps de Lisle, convert and patron of Pugin

31 May – 200th Anniversary of the death of Josef Haydn, composer – for many the anniversary of 2009. Expect some interesting CD releases
11 June – 500th Anniversary of the marriage of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon
22 June – possibly the 1800th Anniversary of the martyrdom of England’s proto-martyr, St Alban (different scholars give different dates)
29 June – 500th Anniversary of the death of Lady Margaret Beaufort, mother of Henry VII, patron of the arts and learning and spiritual client of St John Fisher
4 August – 150th Anniversary of the death of St John Mary Vianney, patron of parish priests – a jubilee in Ars! Fifty years ago Blessed John XXIII issued Sacredotii Nostri Primordii for the Centenary.
18 August – 450th Anniversary of the death of Pope Paul IV (Carafa), who had earlier been first General of the Theatines
1 September – 850th Anniversary of the death of Pope Adrian IV (Breakspear), the first (and only) English Pope
18 October – Millennium of the destruction of the church of the Holy Sepulchre by Caliph al-Hakim bi-Amr Allah, an event which contributed to the mounting of the Crusades later in the century
25 November – 400th birthday of Henrietta Maria, Catholic consort of Charles I
25 December – 450th Anniversary of the election of Pope Pius IV (Medici), uncle of St Charles Borromeo

I'm sure there are many more. Happy New Year!

Cardinal Pole and Mary I - 1558-2008

Today is the 450th anniversary of the deaths of both Cardinal Pole, last Catholic Archbishop of Canterbury, and Mary Tudor. The English and Welsh bishops met today and visited Lambeth Palace to honour the memory of Cardinal Pole; meanwhile, a number of Requiem Masses were held in Oxford, Cambridge, Birmingham and London. I had the privilege of preaching at one of these:

We gather here this evening to remember a series of deaths that occurred exactly 450 years ago. At about six in the morning of 17 November 1558, Mary Tudor died at St James’ Palace, as Mass was being celebrated in her chamber and the priest was elevating the Sacred Host. Twelve hours later her cousin, Reginald Pole, Cardinal Priest of Santa Maria in Cosmedin and Archbishop of Canterbury, died across the river at Lambeth Palace. With them died hopes for an English Catholic restoration and the subsequent long reign of Elizabeth did much to consolidate the newly-founded Church of England.

The two cousins had much in common. Both had saintly mothers – in the Queen’s case, Catherine of Aragon (the discarded wife of Henry VIII, who remained loyal to the Catholic Faith and to the bonds of marriage); in the Cardinal’s case, Blessed Margaret Pole, the last of the Plantagenets and martyr. When Pole heard of her execution in May 1541, he declared that ‘until now I had thought God had given me the grace of being the son of the one of the best and most honoured ladies in England...but now he has vouchsafed to honour me still more by making me the son of a martyr.’ Both the Queen and the Cardinal also tried to heal the English schism but their efforts were cut short by premature death. Both have been largely vilified by posterity – the Queen remembered as ‘Bloody Mary’ and the Cardinal as her henchman.

At this Mass, we particularly pray for the repose of the soul of Cardinal Pole and we pay tribute to his legacy, even though when he died all his efforts seemed to have failed. Mgr Robert Hugh Benson once wrote that ‘it is hardly possible to imagine a character less suited, in popular estimation, to the needs of his time, than was that of Reginald Pole to the period of the English schism. They were days of fierceness, brutality and literally Machiavellian diplomacy; and the nature of the Cardinal who played so great a part in them was one of gentleness, kindness and simple transparence...It is no wonder then that the Cardinal, a lover of peace and study, sensitive in conscience and passionately zealous for souls, should, as the world reckons success, have failed in nearly every task to which he set his hand.’

In the eyes of the world, Pole was a failure. He failed in his various diplomatic missions or legations aimed against King Henry. He famously failed to be elected Pope by just a handful of votes in the Conclave of 1549 – so certain was his election thought to be that pontifical vestments were even made for him. He failed in his desire for the Church to reach reconciliation with the schismatics and, in fact, at the time of his death he was suspected by Rome of having Protestant sympathies - only the protection of Queen Mary prevented him from facing the Roman Inquisition. Moreover, his plans for Catholic restoration in England ultimately came to nothing.

Pole was perhaps a failure in temporal terms, and yet his failure can be seen also as a victory from the perspective of Divine grace. Though, unlike his mother, he was not called to shed his blood for the Faith, he risked much in defending the Papal primacy.

We remember him today as a great scholar and the friend of the likes of Michelangelo. We recall his central role in the opening sessions of the Council of Trent. Above all, we celebrate his achievements in England, even though they were left unfinished. On 30 November 1554 he reconciled the realm to the Holy See during an emotionally-charged service at Whitehall Palace. ‘If the angels in Heaven,’ the Cardinal said, ‘rejoice over the conversion of a single sinner, what must be their joy to-day at the sight of a whole kingdom which repenteth?’ Pole set aside St Andrew’s Day as an annual celebration of ‘the return this kingdom to the unity of the Church.’ The following Sunday Pole was at St Paul’s and the Lord Chancellor, Bishop Gardiner, preached on the theme, ‘Now it is high time to awake out of sleep.’

Pole told Parliament that he aimed ‘not to pull down but to build; to reconcile not to censure; to invite but without compulsion.’ He took a gradual and realist approach to the Catholic restoration, confirming property rights and refusing help from St Ignatius and the newly-founded Jesuits - not because he opposed them but because he thought England was not yet ready and because they had too close a connection to Spain. Pole organised a Legatine Synod, perhaps his greatest legacy.. He stressed the importance of the residence of clergy and of preaching and catechesis in each parish. Most notably, he decreed ‘that in Cathedrals a certain number of initiated persons be brought up, whence as from a Seminary, men may be chosen who may be worthily set over Churches...We especially wish,’ he added, ‘the children of the poor to be chosen into these seminaries.’ The Cardinal was one of the first to speak of seminaries and anticipated the Tridentine decrees, though his vision would not be actualised in his own country for another 250 years.

But these battles and dreams have long since ended for our Cardinal. We pray that he is now at peace, united with his mother, the Blessed Margaret. Though we live in very different times, the battles that Pole fought so courageously have now passed down to us. The words of Bishop Gardiner, preached on that First Sunday of Advent 1554, echo in our ears: ‘Now it is high time to awake out of sleep.’ Like the Cardinal, it is up to us not so much to pull down but to build; to reconcile rather than simply to censure; to work for the unity of the Church and to re-evangelise our increasingly ‘post-Christian’ culture. As Fr Aidan Nichols showed recently, much of this project has to happen within the Church – the re-enchantment of the Sacred Liturgy, the on-going revival of catechesis and preaching, the rediscovery of the Catholic reading of the Bible, the preaching of the Gospel of Life and, most importantly, the continual striving for holiness on the part of us all. Cardinal Pole would approve of all these targets. As we pray for the repose of his soul (and also that of Mary Tudor), we continue to pray and work for the conversion of England.

The Papal Zouaves

I've just read a recently-published book, The Pope's Legion: The Multinational Fighting Force that Defended the Vatican, by Charles A. Coulombe. It's the first English study of the Papal Zouaves in over a century and serves as a good introduction to this regiment of volunteers from all over Christendom who banded together to defend Blessed Pius IX and his temporal sovereignty between 1860 and 1871.

The New York Herald of 10 June 1868 numbered the zouaves at 4,592, including 50 Englishmen, 10 Scots, 101 Irish, 14 Americans and 135 Canadians. Even Africa and China were represented. The largest nationality was, perhaps surprisingly, the Dutch (1,910), followed by the French (1,301).

One of the most interesting parts of the book is the Appendix, containing 'Songs of the Zouaves' and a homily preached by Mgr Ignacio Barreiro of HLI at a Mass in Memory of the Pope's Soldiers. There is a useful list of 'Zouave Sites,' ranging from the monument in the Lateran's Blessed Sacrament Chapel to the Netherlands Zoavenmuseum at Oudenbosch, near the Basilica of SS Agatha and Barbara built in the Zouaves' honour (a must visit, it seems, if you happen to be passing Oudenbosch). In France there are several 'uniformed societies of descendants and re-enactors,' such as the Societe Royale des Zouaves Pontificaux de Thuin and a similar organisation at Jumet. Every parish needs one:

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Coulombe's book tells a thrilling story, although those who know little about the process of Italian Unification might get lost amidst the narrative of battles and campaigns. It would also have been good to have had more quotes from primary sources. However I'm delighted that a book has been published about this neglected story and hopefully future studies will bring us more details about recruitment, organisation, the daily life of the Zouave and the individuals who joined.

The English Zouaves included:

• Alfred Collingridge, who left a Jesuit novitiate in order to join and died in action.


• George Collingridge, his brother, who later emigrated to Australia and became a well known wood engraver and author.


• James Coventry from the New Forest who later became a skilled photographer - a book was recently published about him.


• Joseph Stanislaus Hansom, son of the famous architect and inventor of the 'Hansom cab,' who himself entered his father's profession. The former Zouave designed the churches of the Holy Name, Manchester; Arundel Cathedral; St Aloysius, Oxford (now the Oratory); Our Lady, Teignmouth; the Servite Churches at Bognor and Fulham, and portions of Fort Augustus Abbey and Portsmouth Cathedral.


• John George Kenyon, who was received into the Church while at Christ Church, Oxford (1870) and joined the Zouaves shortly afterwards. He built the church at Gillingham and was named a Private Chamberlain to Leo XIII.


• Joseph Powell, author of Two Years in the Pontifical Zouaves.


• Bartholomew Teeling, who later became the first Secretary of the Catholic Union of Ireland and was named a Private Chamberlain by St Pius X in 1907.He wrote My First Prisoner, a tale of Rome in the first days of its occupation by Victor Emmanuel.


• Julian Watts-Russell (‘Giulio’), son of the Vicar of Benefield who converted in 1845 and joined the Zouaves, together with his brother Wilfrid. Julian was killed at the battle of Mentana (1867), one of the most notable papal victories, and was treated almost as a martyr; his monument is still preserved at the Venerable English College, Rome. Interestingly, the year after his death Julian's father, Michael (a widower), was ordained as a Westminster priest. Another brother, Michael junior, became a Passionist and superior of their house at Highgate.
  

Benedict XVI on Pius XII

On 18th September the Holy Father addressed the participants of a Symposium on Pius XII. Here are some extracts from his speech, which succinctly corrects some of the anti-Pius prejudices which we hear and read in the media:

Fifty years have passed since his pious death here at Castel Gandolfo early on the ninth of October 1958, after a debilitating disease. This anniversary provides an important opportunity to deepen our knowledge of him, to meditate on his rich teaching and to analyze thoroughly his activities. So much has been written and said of him during these last five decades and not all of the genuine facets of his diverse pastoral activity have been examined in a just light.

When one draws close to this noble Pope, free from ideological prejudices, in addition to being struck by his lofty spiritual and human character one is also captivated by the example of his life and the extraordinary richness of his teaching. One can also come to appreciate the human wisdom and pastoral intensity which guided him in his long years of ministry, especially in providing organized assistance to the Jewish people...Wherever possible he spared no effort in intervening in their favour either directly or through instructions given to other individuals or to institutions of the Catholic Church. [He made] many interventions, secretly and silently, precisely because, given the concrete situation of that difficult historical moment, only in this way was it possible to avoid the worst and save the greatest number of Jews.

This courageous and paternal dedication was recognized and appreciated during and after the terrible world conflict by Jewish communities and individuals who showed their gratitude for what the Pope had done for them. One need only recall Pius XII's meeting on the 29th of November 1945 with eighty delegates of German concentration camps who during a special Audience granted to them at the Vatican, wished to thank him personally for his generosity to them during the terrible period of Nazi-fascist persecution.

For the full text, click here.

The English Catholic Way

The last few weeks I've been pre-occupied with preparing several presentations. On Saturday I returned to the church of my baptism, Ealing Abbey, to give some talks on 'Mary in the Mystery of Christ and His Church' for the excellent Maryvale Certificate in Catechesis. This is a part-time distance-learning course, spread over two years and involving a number of written assignments and study days. The 'students' came from all over London and represented a variety of ages and backgrounds. I fully recommend it to priest and catechist readers - for further information, visit the website.

I've just returned from our Pastoral Centre at London Colney, giving a day of recollection for the diocesan ethnic chaplains. As I've said before, the Centre was originally an Anglican convent and boasts a stunning chapel by Ninian Comper. I was especially pleased to celebrate Mass this morning under the splendid baldacchino (see above), instead of using the modern altar placed at the church's West End.

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The theme I was asked to speak on was the 'English Catholic Way.' I gave the chaplains an overview of our ecclesiastical history and then tried to draw out the chief characteristics of traditional English spirituality. I came up with the following list:

• A great love for Our Lady (England as Mary's Dowry)
• A close relationship with Rome (as seen in the long tradition of pilgrimages to the Eternal City and the English origins of 'Peter's Pence')
• Love of solitude (England was once famous for its hermits)
• Gentleness and moderation (many English spiritual writers display practical realism and a deep understanding of human nature. They don't like to confine themselves to a rigid system)
• This does not necessarily mean weakness and compromise, though, for the Faith survived long years of persecution and produced a crop of martyrs
• A profound devotion to the Mass - 'it is the Mass that matters'
• Formality, especially in the Sacred Liturgy and Prayer
• A tradition of migration and exile

I would quite like to expand this theme and would be interested to hear of your thoughts regarding the characteristics (at least historically) of English Catholicism.

A Recording of Cardinal Manning's Voice

Flicking through a volume of The Tablet from 1894 the other day - as you do - I found a fascinating report of a phonograph that was made of Cardinal Manning's voice as he lay dying in 1891 (he finally passed away on 14 January 1892). He was encouraged to do this by his friend, Charles Kent (author of The Modern Seven Wonders of the World), and the recording was made by Edison's representative in the UK, Colonel Gouraud. 'In the beautiful library of the Cardinal,' we read in the report, originally printed in the Pall Mall Gazette, 'the message was dictated and afterwards reproduced, to the unconcealed pleasure and amazement of its author.'

Three recordings were made - one for Cardinal Gibbons in America, another for Pope Leo XIII ('the reception of which made a great effect upon the Pontiff, who could hardly believe that it was not the actual voice of his friend that he heard') and the third for posterity, to be played only after the Cardinal's death death. 'Upon my handing him the cylinder,' wrote Colonel Gouraud, 'the Cardinal took it with a curious expression in his eyes, as if he were trying to realize that the next time the message was heard he would be in his grave.'

The message was finally played on 16 February 1894 in a large reception room of Whitehall Court. Distinguished guests were invited, rather morbidly, 'to meet his Eminence Cardinal Vaughan and Henricus Edwardus Cardinalis Manning, Archepiscopus Westmonasteriensis.' Those assembled included the Cardinal's faithful Secretary, Mgr Johnson, the American Ambassador and a representative of the Prime Minister, Sir Algernon West. 'The scene was a very impressive one and the audience listened with bated breath to the faint scratching of the phonograph...the message came forth slowly, solenly, deliberately, and with long pauses of thought: "To all who come after me; I hope that no words of mine, written or spoken in my life, will be found to have done harm to any one after I am dead - Henry Edward Manning, Cardinal Archbishop." A few other voices were put upon the phonograph after this, including those of Tennyson, Browning, General Sharman, and others who in life will never be heard again. It is the intention of Colonel Gouraud some day to deposit these priceless treasures in the British Museum. Till then they will in all probability never be listened to in England again' (Tablet, 24 Feb 1894, pp290-291).

I must investigate to see if this valuable recording is to be found in the British Library's hi-tech Sound Archive.

UPDATE: I've received a reply from the British Library saying that they don't have the recording in their collection and don't know whether it survived. It's the sort of thing that might be lying around in an attic somewhere!

The 'Second Spring' in Leicestershire

I visited a priest friend in the East Midlands today. His parish couldn't be more different from a London one - a large geographical area, a charming little church in one of his 18 villages, a close-knit congregation where most people know each other by name and (most strikingly) a presbytery where the phone and doorbell rarely sounds!

We had a most enjoyable drive around some of the local Catholic sites, especially in the Charnwood area which owes many of its foundations to the vision of a nineteenth century convert, Ambrose Phillipps de Lisle. He was a friend of Pugin and a great patron of the Trappists and the Rosminians. His home was Grace Dieu Manor, built in the 1830s, enlarged by Pugin and now a school run by the Rosminians. The grounds were most impressive and are used by the diocese of Nottingham for an annual Rosary Rally:

Grace Dieu served as the centre of Catholicism in the area and the great Rosminian missioner, Fr Luigi Gentili, lived here for a time, as he toured the surrounding villages and established missions. One of these was erected at nearby Shepshed and Gentili's chapel can still be seen (though it is now a private house):

In the grounds of Grace Dieu are the ruins of a medieval priory of Augustinian Canonesses, founded 1235-41 and referred to as 'the church of the Holy Trinity of the Grace of God [Grace Dieu] at Belton dedicated to God and St Mary.'
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The ruins inspired Wordsworth to write:

Beneath yon eastern ridge, the craggy bound,
Rugged and high, of Charnwood’s forest ground,
Stand yet, but, Stranger, hidden from thy view
The ivied ruins of forlorn Grace Dieu,
Erst a religious House, which day and night
With hymns resounded and the chanted rite

Grace Dieu Priory is supposedly haunted by a 'White Lady,' one of the nuns, but she seems to have been otherwise occupied for we only saw a group of friendly cyclists.

Ratcliffe was the next stop - built by Pugin as a novitiate and school for the Rosminians. It is still in the hands of the Institute of Charity and a successful independent school (old boys include one of our auxiliaries, Bishop John Arnold):

The key attraction for me was the little cemetery:


Here, in the corner, are the tombs of Fr William Lockhart and his mother Martha, respectively the first parish priest and benefactor of my current parish. I'm putting together a short life of Fr Lockhart and will be travelling to the Rosminian Archive in Stresa at the end of the month:
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St Lucius, King of Britain

I’ve always been fascinated by the legend of a mysterious British King, St Lucius, who supposedly wrote to Pope St Eleutherius (above) in the late 17os to request baptism. Missionaries were dutifully sent and the King subsequently founded several churches, including a ‘Cathedral’ in London on the site of St Peter-upon-Cornhill.

St Bede writes: ‘while the holy Eleutherius ruled the Roman Church, Lucius, a British King, sent him a letter, asking to be made a Christian by his direction. This pious request was quickly granted, and the Britons received the Faith and held it peacefully in all its purity and fullness until the time of the Emperor Diocletian.’ The King later abdicated and travelled to Switzerland as a missionary, where he won a martyr’s crown. His shrine can still be found at Chur.

Thus states the legend. In 1904 the story was ‘deconstructed’ by the German historian Carl Gustav Adolph von Harnack, who suggested that St Lucius had been mixed up with Lucius Abgar IX (179-214), King of Edessa and a contemporary of St Eleutherius. The confusion may have resulted when the Edessian fortress of Birtha was latinised into Britium Edessenorum. In the hands of a medieval copyist, Britio may have become Britannio. This theory seems to have been accepted almost universally over the last 100 years.

But the archaeologist, David J. Knight, has just written a whole book about the legend of King Lucius of Britain. It arrived in the post yesterday and the few chapters I’ve managed to read convincingly question Harnack’s deconstructive theory and opens the way to proposing that St Lucius actually did exist!

One of the many interesting details – especially for those in the Archdiocese of Westminster – is the traditional list of the ‘Archbishops of London’ between the reign of St Lucius and the coming of St Mellitus, the bishop of London appointed after the mission of St Augustine of Canterbury. There would be no more Catholic Archbishops in London until 1850…

Thean (c.179-185)
Eluanus
Cadar
Obinus
Conan
Paludius
Stephen (martyr, +17 September 304)
Augulus (martyr, +7 September 305)
Iltutus Restitutus (attended the Council of Arles, 314)
Dedwin
Thedred
Hilary (c.367)
Fastidius (c. 431)
Guidelium (c.410)
Vodinus (martyr, +23 July 436)
Theanus (c. 587)

Note the three martyrs, SS Stephen, Augulus and Vodinus, now totally forgotten. These cults were probably discouraged by St Augustine, who preferred the ancient Roman martyrs and arranged for their relics to be brought to England to replace those of the more dubious British saints.

If you’re interested in the origins of Christianity in this country, then you’ll find Knight’s book very interesting…

Parish Life 200 Years Ago

Some of you will know Catholic London A Century Ago, first published in 1905 by Bernard Ward (later first bishop of Brentwood). There are some fascinating details about English Catholic life two hundred years ago, in the aftermath of the Catholic Relief Acts of 1778 and 1791:

• Catholic churches looked very different from the ones built later in the nineteenth century - no side altars, minimal decoration and divisions in the church seating for the different classes of person. The best seats cost a shilling or sixpence and could be found in the 'Tribune' or the 'Enclosure' immediately in front of the sanctuary. You can see such privileged positions in the picture above of the old Sardinian Chapel (the ancestor of SS Anselm and Cecilia, Kingsway). The poorer members stood behind in the 'Body of the Church' and this section often had its own communion rail. I wonder if this is one reason why so many Catholics instinctively tend to sit at the back of the church?!


• Apparently, 'the subdeacon of the [High] Mass was usually the preacher, but before the sermon he would disappear into the sacristy to take off his tunicle and come out to preach in cotta and stole.'


• Confessionals were rare. Ward writes that 'there are those still alive who have described the scene on a Saturday evening, when the line of penitents were kneeling all up the stairs of the priest's house, taking their turns for admissions to his room.'
• There is a wonderful description of Tenebrae that has come down to us thanks to Thomas Doyle, later Provost of Southwark. He wrote (and it is quoted by Ward): 'Dr Bramston used to describe with much effect the Tenebrae in Castle Street, Holborn, where he, a limb of the law [before ordination], and Charles Butler, another limb, and the Rev. Mr Lindow, and Bishop Douglass, met in the “Episcopal palace” in an upper chamber, at the fourth house on the right hand – and a dirty, dingy, shabby-genteel house it was – for the purpose of reciting the Divine Office. They met and separated, too thankful that even that much was done, and hoped for better days.’ Many churches followed the French custom of decorating the 'Easter sepulchre' with empty chalices and other church plate.


• Priests no longer wore wigs in the nineteenth century but tended to powder their hair - the first to discard the custom of powdering before singing Mass was Dr Weathers, later Auxiliary to Cardinal Manning (ordained priest 1838). When whiskers became fashionable, priests sported what was called the 'clerical inch' so as not to draw attention to themselves. Interestingly, the first priest in England to wear black clothing (rather than brown or other sober colours) was Joseph Berington, considered by many of his contemporaries as an 'arch-liberal' and Cisalpine - his writings shared many of the proposals of the 1786 Synod of Pistoia (eg Mass in the vernacular, greater democracy in the Church, etc).


• Ward writes: 'A custom of administering wine from the chalice to children with whooping-cough lasted on till my own time - it was administered to myself under these circumstances - but I have never heard of its being done in recent years.' He adds in a footnote that he had heard 'that there are one or two parishes in London in which the practice still obtains' at the time of writing (1905). I assume the wine was unconsecrated. Does anyone know anything more about this strange practice?

The Legend of Borley

An atmospheric English churchyard an hour or so before sunset, complete with clipped yew trees and locked church. Just the sort of place where you might imagine strange goings-on.

As I was touring the Essex/Suffolk border on Tuesday, I noticed a sign to Borley. This tiny village had been a cause celebre in the 1930s, when Borley Rectory (which has since burnt down) was named 'the most haunted house in England.' Many suspect the whole affair was faked but the myth of Borley continues and there is talk of a film being made.

The central figure in the story is that of a phantom nun who could often be seen walking across the rectory garden - indeed, the Victorian Rector, Henry Bull, even built a summer house so that he could sit and watch her pass by.

There were two theories as to her identity. One was that she belonged to a nunnery that had stood on the site before the Reformation (though there is no evidence for this), had fallen in love with a local monk and was consequently - you can guess what is coming - walled-up alive. Of course, such punishments simply did not exist, even in the 'barbaric' Middle Ages. The Jesuit scholar Fr Herbert Thurston showed a century ago how tales of walled-up nuns were a confusion with anchorites who had voluntarily immured themselves in order to live a life of prayer and penance. It is interesting, incidentally, how many seemingly quaint ghost stories have anti-Catholic streaks concerning monks and nuns who meet a sticky end.

The other version of events is more credible. The nun, Sr Maria Laire, had belonged to a convent in or near Le Havre (perhaps one of the many English foundations in what is now Belgium and northern France) but had left in order to marry a member of the Waldegrave family in Borley. This family was Catholic and Mass was often said at their home in penal times. The story goes that the relationship did not work out and that the exclaustrated nun was murdered. A hundred years ago a skeleton was found in the grounds of the Rectory, along with a medal of St Ignatius, which was thought to be that of the poor girl.

I remembered reading about all this years ago, so I was glad to have seen the village. However, we shouldn't be too curious about such stories and can content ourselves by trusting in the Lord and praying for any Holy Souls who need our suffrage. I certainly didn't see anything strange during my five-minute stop at Borley, beyond my travelling companion (a young priest from Southwark) suddenly leaping out at me from behind one of the clipped yews...

Dissolution

These ruins were once one of the largest churches in medieval Europe - the Abbey at Bury St Edmund's in Suffolk. The tower in the background, which belongs to the Anglican Cathedral, was only completed a few years ago. The first monastic community here was founded in 633 and it had grown in fame and wealth after the translation in 903 of the relics of St Edmund of East Anglia, King and Martyr:

He had been killed by the Danes (869) - captured, shot by arrows and then decapitated, his head later being found by a friendly wolf - and his shrine became one of the great spiritual treasures of England. It is hard to imagine what the great Abbey looked like, though some idea of the magnificence can be gained from this surviving gatehouse:

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'Bare ruin'd quires' have been very much on my mind these last few days. Not only did I visit St Edmundsbury on Tuesday but this morning there was a very interesting Radio 4 programme on the Dissolution, with some of our leading historians - you can listen to it over the next week here. You may not agree with everything that is said, but it gives an insight into the cunning tactics of Henry VIII.

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Then, the post brought me an Amazon packet containing Geoffrey Moorhouse's new book, The Last Office: 1539 and the Dissolution of a Monastery. It studies the Benedictine community at Durham and looks not only at monastic life on the eve of the Reformation and the process of Dissolution but also what happened to the monks afterwards.

Forgotten Shepherds

At the moment I'm studying (in spare moments) the Vicars Apostolic who governed the Church in England and Wales between 1685 and 1850. From 1688 there were four Districts (London, Midlands, Western and Northern) and these were increased to eight by Gregory XVI in 1840. It's a fascinating story but also one that is not generally known. Most people have heard of Bishop Challoner, and possibly of Bishops Giffard, Baines and Milner (called by Newman 'the English Athanasius') but these shepherds remain largely unknown and forgotten.

Their world was very different from that of Newman and Manning. The Vicars Apostolic lived discreetly, frequently changed their lodging, used aliases and travelled long distances on horseback. Many were buried without vestments or signs of their office, with their hands simply lying by their sides. There is a famous story about Bishop Hornyold, VA of the Midlands District (1756-78) finishing Mass just as the house was raided and saving himself 'by substituting a female cap for his flowing periwig and throwing a large woman’s cloak over his vestments, and in this disguise, throwing himself in a corner of the room into the attitude of prayer.'

Challoner was bishop in London for forty years but never once ordained a priest, for there were then no seminaries on English soil and priests were almost always ordained overseas. Douglass (VA of London, 1790-1812 - see picture above) was the first to openly wear a pectoral cross, though only in the privacy of his home and without wearing a cassock. His successor, Poynter (VA 1812-27), normally wore a brown suit and the Rev. Joseph Silveira used to recall the astonishment produced the first time the bishop walked from his room at St Edmund’s, Ware to the chapel in his episcopal cassock in 1817.

Despite their fragile position and limited resources, their jurisdiction was technically vast and included the colonies, though they never visited these distant lands and simply resolved disputes, granted faculties and (whenever they could) sent out priests. Sometimes the colonies proved to be a useful 'dumping ground' for troublesome priests. A striking example was William Simpson, who had held four appointments in the Northern District but ‘made havoc of every one of them’ and, after Bishop Giffard paid off his debts, squandered the money on women and married in an Anglican church. After imprisonment for debt, he seemed to be repentant and was commissioned by Giffard for work in the West Indies. He soon apostasised from the Faith and was presented to an Anglican living on Nevis, although he seems to have been reconciled to the Church at his death in September 1735.

Until 1784 the VA of the London District (Challoner) was in charge of the American colonies. By that time, of course, America had declared its independence but, as the bishop's biographer Burton notes, ‘this feeble old man [Challoner], living his retired life in an obscure London street’ exercised a jurisdiction that ‘remained the only remnant of authority in the hands of an Englishman that was still recognized in America.’

This period of English Catholic history is not only one of heroism but of great division and frequent 'pamphlet wars'. Long before the days of a Bishops' Conference (providing a certain 'unity'), there were fierce rivalries among some of the VAs. In the lead up to Catholic Emancipation, there were passionate arguments between 'Ultramontanes' and 'Cisalpines' over what being English and Catholic meant - to what extent did the Pope have authority over British institutions, for example, and could the Government veto the appointment of bishops? Some of the more liberal 'Cisalpines', like Rev. Joseph Berington, even called for ecumenical schools and a vernacular liturgy, so as to discourage anti-Catholic prejudice.

At the beginning of the nineteenth century there was conflict over a group of sedevacantists - the Blanchardists (mostly French emigre clergy) who did not recognise Pius VII's concordat with Napoleon. And there were on-going tensions that had been present for centuries, such as that between the secular and regular clergy. By the mid nineteenth century there was strife between the older clergy, who looked back to the recusant tradition of penal times, and the new generation, who looked towards the 'Second Spring' and were convinced of the imminent Conversion of England. Writing in 1848, Wiseman praised the younger priests but felt that most of the older clergy were resistant to change and 'Gallican' in their views. Even after 1850 a number of older priests did not adopt the recently-introduced Roman collar and stuck to the venerable tradition of dressing in the sober clothes of the day.

An interesting period indeed, despite being treated as the 'Dark Age' between the martyrs and the restoration of the Hierarchy. In fact, it was a time of growth and development that made possible the achievements of the age of Wiseman and Manning.

Catholic Anniversaries in 2008

Cardinal Pole - who died 450 years ago

Here are some anniversaries of Catholic interest that we will be keeping this year. There are probably many others I haven't mentioned:

26 January 900th Anniversary of the death of St Alberic, one of the Cistercian Founders
6 February 1750th Anniversary of the martyrdom of Pope St Sixtus II
11 February 150th Anniversary of the First Apparition at Lourdes
21 March 400th Anniversary of the martyrdom of the priest Bl Matthew Flathers at York
11 April 400th Anniversary of the martyrdom of Bl George Gervase, OSB at Tyburn
3 May 250th Anniversary of the death of Pope Benedict XIV
27 May 1700th Anniversary of the election of Pope St Marcellus I
23 June 400th Anniversary of the martyrdom of St Thomas Garnet, SJ at Tyburn
6 July 25oth Anniversary of the election of Pope Clement XIII
15 July 20oth Anniversary of the birth of Henry Edward Cardinal Manning
9 September 100th Anniversary of the opening of the International Eucharistic Congress in London (it continued until 13 September)
24 September 1150th Anniversary of the election of Pope St Nicholas the Great
3 October 550th Anniversary of the birth of St Casimir of Poland
5 October 350th Anniversary of the birth of Mary of Modena (our last Catholic Queen)
9 October 50th Anniversary of the death of Pope Pius XII
28 October 50th Anniversary of the election of Bl John XXIII
8 November 700th Anniversary of the death of Bl Duns Scotus
17 November 45oth Anniversary of the deaths of Queen Mary I and Reginald Cardinal Pole

Fr Garnet's 'Facebook'

On my way to the Archives this morning, I was flicking through one of the free papers and found reference to a bizarre story relating to a seventeenth century book that is about to go on auction - A True and Perfect Relation of the Whole Proceedings Against the Most Barbarous Traitors, Garnet a Jesuite, and his Confederats, etc (1606).

Apparently (and I don't know whether this is historically certain), it is bound in Fr Henry Garnet's skin and what appears to be the priest's face can be seen on the front (the picture is from the Daily Mail):

It echoes the earlier tradition of Fr Garnet's Straw - that the priest's face could be found on the bloodied straw at his execution.

Dies Memorabilis

I've had quite a Benedictine week. Yesterday I was over at Downside Abbey in Somerset to collect the papers of the English Augustinian Canonesses of Paris (going back to the 1630s), which will now be housed in the Westminster Diocesan Archive.

Yesterday happened to be the 400th Dies Memorabilis of the English Benedictine Congregation. This requires a bit of explanation. It refers to an event that took place in London (possibly in Holborn or St John's Wood) on 21 November 1607. Despite the Reformation, young Englishmen had continued to join religious Orders on the continent. At first, if you wanted to become a Benedictine you joined the Spanish or Italian (Cassinese) Congregations (the Benedictine Order exists in Congregations, originally organised on national lines) . In 1602 these English-born monks obtained a faculty from Clement VIII to join their secular and Jesuit counterparts on the English Mission.

Two English members of the Cassinese Congregation, Robert Sadler and Edward Maihew, soon sort out the last surviving member of the original English Benedictine Congregation (EBC), which dated back to 1218/19. His name was Dom Sigebert (or Sebert) Buckley, then aged 90, who had formerly been a monk at Westminster Abbey during the community's restoration by Mary I. On 21 November 1607 Buckley aggregated these two young priests to himself - and through him to Westminster Abbey and the old Benedictione body in England. The ceremony was masterminded by the former lawyer and noted spiritual writer Dom Augustine Baker and it meant that the re-founded English Benedictine Congregation still claims to be the oldest Congregation in the Benedictine world.

Today I was lucky enough to attend a half-day conference at Westminster Abbey to commemorate this great event. We listened to two talks in the magnificent Jerusalem Chamber, part of the original Abbot's Lodging, dating to the fourteenth century. The original ceiling can still be seen, under which Henry IV died in 1413. The King was about to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land but suffered a stroke while praying at the shrine of St Edward. He was carried to this chamber and when he asked where he was, he was told he was in Jerusalem. The King had once been told that he would die in Jerusalem and so it came pass in the Abbey's Jerusalem Chamber.

The most moving aspect of the conference, though, was to see monks and nuns walking around the great Abbey Church once again, just like the good old days. They included four current Abbots, an Abbess and the (titular) Abbot of Westminster (such titles are given to senior or retired members of the Congregation). Some of the tourists probably thought they were seeing ghosts!

After Evensong (which included a Palestrina Magnificat and Peter Philips' Cantantibus organis, Cecilia), we gathered round the shrine of St Edward, more or less untouched by the Reformation, as the monks sang the responsary Posuisti Domine. Then we processed to the chapel of St Benedict, just off Poets' Corner, where the Suscipe was chanted. It was as if the centuries rolled back.

Then I had to make a mad dash to Kingsland to preach at our parish Requiem for all those who have died over the last twelve months.

Martyrs in Stained Glass

Flicking through the The Priest, the newspaper for the National Conference of Priests which all English and Welsh priests received this week, I found an advert for a new book, A Celebration of the Martyrs in Stained Glass. It reproduces and explains the beautiful windows designed by Miss Margaret Rope for the crypt of Tyburn Convent, depicting the English Martyrs in the context of the Beatitudes and the Corporal Works of Mercy. Miss Rope is well known to alumni of the Venerable English College, Rome, for she also designed a window of St Ralph Sherwin that is on the College's staircase and her brother was the late, great Fr H.E.G.Rope, M.A., priest, poet, historian and Luddite (!). Anyway, I've just found an informative website about Miss Rope (and her cousin, the other Miss Rope - also an artist), which you can find here.

The book is available from The Bursar General, Tyburn Convent, 8 Hyde Park Place, London W2 2LJ for £10.80 postage and packing included.

The Inquisition at Evenley

Earlier this week I returned to Jill and Brett Kelly's house in Evenley, south west Northamptonshire, to give a talk on the Spanish Inquisition. I had been there in June to talk about another strand of the anti-Catholic 'Black Legend' - the Crusades. The Kelly's organise monthly talks in their house and also run a Catholic Library. There were about 40 people present (including some non-Catholics) and I was really a warm-up for their next speaker, the eminent Fr John Saward. As I wrote in June, 'the Kellys (who have 17 grandchildren) made me think of penal times, when Catholic households and families provided such powerful centres of the Faith for the surrounding area'.

My talk was based on this article, which appeared in the Faith Magazine earlier this year. I was expecting a bit of an Inquisition when it came to question time but most people seemed convinced by the facts, that the Inquisition was not as bloody and repressive as many books make out.

Prior Bolton's Fishpond

I have previously mentioned one of our local landmarks, Canonbury Tower (see above, partly obscured by the more recent building), which was built by William Bolton, the Prior of the Augustinian Priory of St Bartholomew's, Smithfield (1505-32). You can still see his device of a barrel (tun) pierced by a crossbow bolt on some nearby buildings. Bolton was also Master of the King's Works and was involved in many other building projects, such as Westminster Abbey's Henry VII Chapel and monument to Lady Margaret Beaufort.

Last night I visited a parishioner and passed a road called 'Prior Bolton Street'. I was then told that the remnants of a fishpond that once belonged to the good Canons occasionally 're-appears' and floods the basements of certain houses in the area. England is full of stories of ghosts who lament the destruction of the 1530s - phantom monks and nuns and all that - but it is curious to hear of a pond that serves to remind the people of twenty-first century Islington of pre-Reformation days!

The Royal Penitent

On Monday I led some prayers on Trafalgar Square for the repose of the soul of our last Catholic king, James II. This happens every year, around the time of the King's birthday (14 October), and is organised by the Royal Stuart Society. At the end of the service a wreath was laid on the splendid statue outside the National Gallery by the Society's Chairman, Lord Aylmer.

I chose as my theme the final years of the exiled King's life. By the time of his death in 1701, James had gained a reputation for sanctity and the cause for his beatification was even launched. He had kept an almost monastic daily routine of morning prayer, meditation, two Masses, vespers and rosary. He also received Holy Communion twice a week (which was, at the time, very unusual), made a monthly day of recollection, said prayers for the Conversion of England every third Wednesday and undertook bodily penances. He was a living example of the teachings of St Francis de Sales, whose works he read every day and who taught that the pursuit of holiness was possible amidst the distractions and trials of the world.

The King came under a number of spiritual influences during his second period of exile. He had a Jesuit confessor and read many books of piety written by members of the Society – making it rather appropriate that he was mistaken as a Jesuit priest when he was captured at Faversham. He had a great affection for the English Benedictines in Paris, at whose church his mortal remains were eventually buried. He also visited with his wife the Visitation Convent at Chaillot, where his mother’s heart was enshrined. Mary of Modena was a frequent guest at this house and made her annual retreats there; James, on the other hand, from 1690 onwards made his retreats at the reformed Cistercian Abbey of La Trappe. He enjoyed a close relationship with the influential Abbot which, according to the historian John Callow, was ‘possibly the only lasting and entirely satisfying attachment that James made outside his family circle during his last exile.’ James admitted that it took his first visit to the austere monastery ‘to give me knowledge of myself and make me despise all that seems great in the world.’ The Abbot, likewise, was impressed by the King’s ‘tranquillity and evenness of mind’ and ‘his disengagement from worldly things and a resignation to the will of God.’

In his exile, James learnt to trust in the plan that God had for him, even though to human eyes it often seemed harsh and confusing. In his view, the loss of his Kingdom would allow him to save his soul. He came to see his own sufferings as expiation for past sins and in particular regretted his relationships with various mistresses: Lady Denham, the Countess of Dorchester, Arabella Churchill and Goditha Price. Perhaps he saw further reparation for these sins when, in 1690, his daughter by Arabella Churchill was professed as Dame Ignatia at the English Benedictine convent at Pontoise – a ceremony at which Mary of Modena was present.

Though he continued to promote his cause, the King was humble enough to walk the way of Calvary. Indeed, he had a great devotion to the cross – it was, after all, on the Feast of the Finding of the Cross that he had been crowned at Westminster Abbey; it was on Good Friday 1701 that he suffered the beginning of his final illness, and it was on a Friday at three in the afternoon – the very hour of the Lord’s death – that James passed away.