A New Martyrology, Martyrology · Life 14
Mr. Dangerfield.
HIs Father was a Gentleman, who lived in good fashion at Waltham-Abby, or thereabouts— had been a great Sufferer for K. Charles I. and charged this his Son on his Death-bed, after his Discovery of the Plot, never to have any hand in any thing against the Government; which he promis'd, and faithfully observ'd. He was a Man of Business and Courage, and therefore employed by the Papists, while among 'em, in their desperate and most dangerous Concerns. He was then of a Religion that excused and encouraged the worst things he or any other Man could be guilty of. The great thing which brought him on the Stage, was Mrs. Celiers business, called the Meal-Tub-Plot. The Papists had design'd to kill two Birds with one Stone— Divert the Laws and People from themselves, and ruine their Enemies; for which end they had among 'em made a Plot to bring in the best Men, and Patriots of the Kingdom into a pretended Design against the K. and Government, by a kind of an Association, like that which afterwards took better effect. And for this Transaction, Mr. Dangerfield was made choice of, a List of their Names, with the Design being by him, according to Order, conveyed into one Colonel Mansel's Chamber—But he was discover'd and seiz'd in the Design, and acknowledg…d all the Intreagues, giving so clear an account of it; that they had never to this very day, the Impudence to pretend any Contradiction, or Trip in his Evidence, nor any other way but flat denial But there was somewhat yet deeper in the Case which he afterwards revealed in his Depositions before the Parliament, That he was employed by the same Party to kill the King, and encourag'd and promis'd Impunity and Reward, and part of it given him by a Great Person for that end.
When the Stream ran violently for Popery, he went over, for Security, into Flanders, but continued not long there; and returning back he was some time after seized, and carried before the Council, where, before the King himself, persisting to a Tittle, in all his former Evidence, he was committed to Newgate; and after having lain there some time, petition'd for a Trial, which they could not do upon any account but Scandalum Magnatum and that in a Matter which lay only before the Parliament, to whom he had reveal'd it. Yet for that he was Tried, and found Guilty, as Wi. Williams the Speaker afterwards for Licensing his Narrative, by order of Parliament. He was to undergo the same Whipping Oats and Johnson did. Before he went out he had strong bodings of his Death, and chose a Text for his Funeral Sermon in the ...of Job, There the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary are at rest. Saying, He was confident they had such a particular Malice against him, he should ne're return alive: Confirm'd the truth of all his former Evidence, and took a last farewel of his friends. After the Sentence was executed on him, in his return home, one Francis stab'd him into the Eye with a sort of a Tuck in the end of his Cane, which touching his Brain, h… was hardly ever sensible after, but dy'd of the Wound in a few Hours, not without great suspicion of Poison, his Body being swoln and black, and full of great Blains all over. The Murderer …led, but was pursu'd by the Rabble, who had torn him to pieces, had not the Officers rescu'd him. He defended and justified the Fact while in Newgate, saying, He had the greatest Men in the Kingdom to stand by him; to whom after his Trial, and being found Guilty upon clear Evidence, great Applications were made, which had been successful for his Pardon, had not Jeffreys himself gone to Whitehall, and told the King He must die, for the Rabble were now throughly heated. Attempts were made to bribe Mr. Dangerfield's Wife, that she might consent to the Pardon of her Husbands Murderer; but she too well deserv'd to be related to him, to sell his Blood; and had an Appeal ready against him, had he been Pardon'd. So the poor State-Martyr was hang'd, as Coleman was before him. Mr. Dangerfield's Body was conveyed to Waltham-Abby, with several Coaches attending it, and there handsomly buried. He has left one Daughter behind him, who, if she lives, will be the true Child of her Father.
His Character.
THE worst of his Enemies have own'd he was a Man of Wit, Courage and Business; all which he reconcil'd the best of any one; he had as much Address, as perfect and great a Presence of Mind, in whatever Exigences, as can be met with. He was the best Companion, the best Friend in the World, and as generous an Enemy. He did nothing but what lookt very handsom; and there was a Charm in the meanest, and something most bewitchingly pleasant in the most indefensible of his Actions. He could do almost every thing, and 'tis hard to say what he did with the greatest Grace. In a word, all that knew him must say, That he wanted nothing but an Estate to have made him as compleat a Gentleman as most in England.
An ELEGY upon Mr. Thomas. Dangerfield.
GO then mount on! wing through the midway Air,
And Godfreys hovering shade shall meet thee there,
A thousand Martyrs thou, a wound all o're,
Thy mighty mind leaps out at every Pore,
My rising heart boils high, the ungrateful World shall see
Something Immortal, something worthy thee,
Larger within the Noble Image grows,
Free, like thy blood, the uncall'd Satyr flows,
But not one Tear to affront thy pious Grave,
Russel and generous Essex died less brave;
Love, Pity, Friendship, all their Claims begin,
But Vengeance drowns 'em all, and roars aloud within,
And thou Hell's Ehud by black Rome decreed,
Hallow'd and blest to do the glorious deed;
If his dear Name can ought of Passion move,
If there are any Stings in Blood or Love,
Ev'n at Hell Gates I'll reach and stab thee there;
N…r can so just a Rage be too severe.
Tho' my wild Satyr means a nobler wound.
Others I strike, thee but at the rebound.
Like him we'll tell'em to their Teeth 'tis true,
Defie a stab, and give the Devil his due.
And if you bright exalted Names above,
Know any thing but how to Sing and Love,
Look down dear sharer of my Soul, and see
A Vengeance worthy of thy Friend and thee.
A Friend's Revenge may thy black Murtherers feel,
Oh may my Pen dart Groves of poison'd Steel,
Till through their lustful Veins the Venom rolls,
And with a double Rot consumes their very Souls.
None, none! shall 'scape the just and deadly blow,
None that these Grand Intrigues of Murder know,
From Conclaves down to little Kings below,
Let Laureats belch a pocky Heroe's Fame,
When Candied o're with some cramp Hebrew name,
As th…ir good-fellow Catholick Jews before
Nick-name a Calf Jehovah, and adore.
No well-wrote Story, no Romance can yield,
A greater, nobler Name than Dangerfield;
Nothing he wants, tho' Fate no Title brings,
That single Name's above an Earl's, a Duke's, a King's.
When Ease and Plenty their brisk Forces joyn,
Or the high Veins are swoln with lusty Wine:
When we on Honours lofty Turrets go,
And look with scorn ore little Crouds bel…w,
Ev'n Fools and Cowards bold and witty grow.
When Jeffreys on the Bench, Ketch on the Gibbet sits,
Some take ev'n them for Courages and Wits.
Nay nobler Souls than those, if Fortune frown,
Oft broke and conquer'd meanly tumble down.
If Fate unjust Success to Tyrants give,
Ev'n the Heroick Brutus dares not live.
But greater he's still what he was before,
Nay greater yet, is all himself and more.
Tho' Man ungrate he ever yet has known,
Tho' they forsake him, he's not yet alone.
For some too honest, and for some too brave,
How shou'd he thrive when neither Fool nor Knave?
He's not alone, another Spirit attends,
A nearer Comfort than a thousand Friends.
Heavens! see how bravely he maintains his ground!
Tho' with whole Hells of Devils baited round;
Charge on, charge thicker yet! he stands, he stands!
The blest above look down, and clap their hands;
Envy the ungrateful World so great a Bliss,
And almost wish to change their place for his.
Unbrib'd he stands, with hopes of Victory,
Knowing his greatest Conquest was to die.
Thus the brave Lion, when base Hounds pursue,
And seize on every Pass and Avenue;
Tho' from within his mighty Genius call,
And knells of sudden Thunder bode his fall,
Walks careless on, walks on and looks about,
Terrour and Death, thro' all the ignoble Rout,
And sells his Life so dear, tho' pleas'd to die,
'Tis hardly worth the while for them to buy.
Nothing his equal Temper ere could move,
No, tho' a very Jeffreys sate above.
Had some good Heathnish Pilate been preferr'd,
To fill the place, he had at least been heard,
But he so fair a measure must not find,
For Justice now's grown deaf as well as blind.
Ju…ice is deaf, but yet her mouth's so wide,
So loud she yells as deafens all beside.
If she's return…d from Heav'n, as all must say,
Sure she call'd in at Billingsgate by the way,
Raving, her Collar from her neck she tore,
Knowing another would become it more.
Thus the gay Mad-man twists Straw-wreaths, & then
He knows not why, tears 'em to dust again.
Ah Mystick Fate! who can thy Methods know?
Jeffreys above, and Dangerfield below!
But since nor Friend nor Poet can invent,
Deeper Damnation for his punishment,
May he be Jeffreys still and ne're repent.
And now the fatal Day begins to dawn,
The Curtain of the last sad Scene is drawn;
Pale let it ever rise with doubtful Light,
Hardly distinguisht from preceding Night.
May Birds obscene and ominous round it stray,
May troubled Ghosts keep dismal Holiday.
Curse on ea…h hour—But hold, for he looks down,
And over his calm Face has drawn a frown.
Forgive bright Soul! the starts of a distracted mind;
The Poet now the Christian leaves behind.
Withdraw that Just, that now unusual frown.
Blest be the happy Day that brought thy Crown:
Thy Radiant Crown of Martyrdom, which brings,
A thousand Joys more than the Crowns of Kings;
A thousand Joys without a thousand Stings.
Soon rose the Sun so great a Day to see,
Soon rose the Sun, but not so soon as he.
A brighter Sun's Assistance down he calls;
He draws all Heav'n within his dusky Walls.
So laught the Apostles at Hell's baffled Rage,
And sung in spite of Fetters and a Cage.
Around Heav'n… Battlements bright Legions wait,
And crouding Seraphs open wide the Gate.
One who of Martyrs has peculiar care,
Is sent to whisper in his Soul, Prepare;
Or else his Guardian friend had made him know,
That long expected Message—he must go,
For sure he knew the worst their Rage could do;
He knew, he saw it all, and scorn'd it too.
Pray on great Soul! and like thy Master be,
For those that now begin to murder thee;
Thy Master thus, thus thy Lord Jesus dy'd;
He must be scourg'd before he's crucifi'd.
Tho' milder Jews far more good Nature have;
They forty Stripes, Jeffreys four hundred gave.
Far more had he at first from Virtue fell;
Ten times a fitter Friend for Rome and Hell;
Ten times less …han this Torment would alone,
For ten times worse, and ten times more attone:
Blood might ha'done▪ had not fair Tears done more,
And Penitence washt him whiter than before.
Nay were I Papist too—
I'd say those precious Showrs which from him fell,
Might rescue ev'n a Jeffreys out of Hell.
But this is Mercy, t…nder Mercy all:
One Death is for a Dangerfield too small.
All Hell had doubly sworn he should not live,
…nd they'll as soon repent a… they'll forgive.
High rampt great Lucifer above his Throne,
Where Monarch absolute he Reigns alone,
…haking the Scaly horrour of his Tail,
He swore this last Plot could not, should not fail.
A Pursuivant was sent, nor far he sought,
But soon their Engine to the presence brought.
The milder Furies started when he came,
The Ghosts div'd down thro' Seas of melted flame,
And heard and felt new Torments at his Name;
Th' Old Dragon only smil'd, and thus began,
Dear part of me! dear something more than Man!
Let Parry, Clement, Ravilack combine,
And cram their Souls, great Murderer into thine.
I love a Man that's resolute, and brave,
Not silly Conscience:, or Customs Slave.
Safety you're sure of, that at least is due;
Nor must we (Sir) forsake such Friends as you.
Go then and prosper! thus I thee inspire
VVith Sparks of my own noble gen'rous Fire!
Chuse what you like! Rewards you need not fear!
Be Chancellor or Observator here.
Go on, and act a deed so worthy me,
That Hell may both admire and envy thee!
Away he comes a double Francis now,
Half Devil, half Papist ravell'd on his brow;
Two strings to's Bow, for fear one should not do,
Stelletto's sometimes fail, take Poison too.
Against such powerful Reasons who'll presume
To speak? These, these, are the two Keys of Rome;
These to blest Peter's Successors were given,
Opening Hell to themselves, to others Heav'n.
Poison which o're so many a Convert brings,
Poison the safest Pill for resty Kings.
Not all the Reasons in strong Box e're pent,
Can ch…llenge half so much of Argument.
Steel, that can sometimes work as great a Cure,
VVhere Patients th'Operation can endure.
Steel, which tho' so unlike it, poison Apes,
Drest in as many neat, convenient shapes.
A Knife, when the French Harry is to die,
Anon a Sword, a Razor by and by.
But now, since holy Church requires it, 'twill
Turn Coward, and sneak into Canes to kill.
Close by the Heroe now Hell's Viceroy stood,
And views him crusted o're with Wounds and Blood
Who all unmov'd, tho' all one Clod of Gore,
His Masters Characters undaunted wore;
Such marks he wore as Scythians ne're invent,
At which all but a Francis would relent.
He Hell and his great Master does invoke,
Then with a gen'rous fury gives the stro…e.
Wretch, well thou aim'dst, too well thou'st struck his head,
Thou'st pierc'd his Eye, or else he'd lookt thee dead.
Tho' wounded all, tho' like great Sampson blind,
Ah could he too like him his Enemies find,
No Friend, no Devil should have repriev'd at all,
He'd crusht thy pois'nous Soul away, & kill'd thee with his fall,
Run Monster, for thy cursed Life, and see
If Vengeance cannot run as fast as thee.
The very Rabble's mov'd, the unthinking Croud;
Th'unweildy Clock's wound up, and strikes a…oud.
Tho' Hag-rid now so long, yet 'tis not …am'd:
Revenge they name, but ah 'tis only nam'd
Ah had their Clacks but held, Heav'n had lockt dow…,
And with kind Thunder fir'd the ungrateful Town.
Pity the bloudy stain was washt with …lood,
It like a Noble Canker shou'd have stood.
Consuming, rotting, poys'ning great and small
Cottage and Pallace, Beams and Stones, and all.
'Tis well at last he merits their esteem:
Now, now they love, yes now they pity him.
Revenge they with unknown good nature cry,
With unsuspected ingenuity!
But to please Fools 'twan't worth the while to dye.
Yes Brutes! at last no doubt you'l think him brave,
O he's done well; his death will charges save.
Revenge, revenge runs through the opening Town,
Revenge they cry and hunt the murd'rer down.
The Beast was earth'd indeed but 'twas in vain:
(Cain fled, but God had set a mark on Cain,)
Close, close they hunt and lug him out again.
May Conscience and the Rabble him attend,
While we our duty pay to such a Friend.
Some Tears e'ne by Religious leave are due,
Some Tears, and some well meaning Curses too.
Can Mothers weep when their soft Infants Bones
Kind Papists crush against the kinder Stones.
When the dear pledges from Chast Nuptials Born,
Are for their milder Hounds in pieces torn:
Sleeping and smiling from their quiv'ring Breast
Are broacht on Pikes, and sent to longer rest.
Can man himself restrain unmanly cries,
When his dear other self is rape't before his Eyes.
Nay can he groans, curses, tears themselves forbear,
To see his Babes hang in their Mothers Hair?
All this have the good Catholicks done before:
All this they now prepare agen, or more.
And he the handsel of their malice trys:
To see if yet their hand be in, he dies.
Tare off his useless Plaisters you that can,
You that have more, or less than Hearts of Man,
Look there he floating lies, o're flown, and drown'd
In Tides of poyson'd gore roll'd from the weltring wound.
All o're beside it dropt in gentle Rains,
But here burst down in Seas and Hurricanes
What dire convulsions shake that beauteous frame,
None of its self is lest besides the Name.
How ghastly horror rears its dismal Throne,
Where once sat charms that cou'd be there alone.
Dreadful distortions rack that bloated face,
And gone are every Beauty, every Grace.
His gloomy Eye-ball rolls in mortal pain;
And feels for the departed light in vain.
Where are those Eyes that cou'd so well inspire
Loves soft, fair, charming▪ harmless, lambent fire
Blood flows without as Poison flows within
And half bears up his black distended Skin.
Where manly friendship reign'd and softer love,
Blood, blood is all below, and horror all above.
Pitty be gone, and nobler rage succeed!
Others besides a Dangerfield shall bleed.
Bring forth the Prisoner, let him, let him live,
For I no more than Jeffreys can forgive.
O for an age of torment! might he lye
Like Titius rack't, like the keen Vulture I·
Jove's own Ambrosia, can't be half so good
As his broy'ld flesh, nor Nectar as his Blood.
But what's one mouth? loose him, and cry 'tis he!
Lose him among the well-oteeth'd Mobile!
The'yl quarter him, not by the Arm, or Leg,
But into Atoms tare Hells Scanderbeg.
What a bare hanging! such a death were fit
For some well meaning harmless Jesuit,
One who poor Soul knows but their little things,
Burning proud Cities, poys'ning stabbing, Kings.
He hath a deed well worth Damnation done,
And perfected those strokes they but begun
Hanging! Why they almost deserv'd that curse
Who dared but think that he deserv'd no worse.
The best, the bravest thing for which almost
I cou'd be foolish and forgive his Ghost,
Is that he triumphs in the Blood he spilt,
And bravely stands and glory's in his guilt.
Hes hit me full and I'd no worse invent,
No, no, 'twas pitty he shou'd e're repent.
But ye who hallow with deserv'd applause,
A better Martyr for a better cause.
You who to fate, and fortune scorn to yield
Who still dare own you're friends to Dangerfield.
And you dear partner of his Joy and Grief,
The worthiest him, the best, the tend'rest Wife,
Who most, who best adore his memory,
Who only I must grant lov'd more than me.
Bring his dear all which at your bottom lies,
His fair remains which I shall ever prize,
Whose fathers vigorous soul plays round her eyes
All, all in a full ring together come,
And Join your Prayers and Curses round his Tomb.
Curst be the wretch who did him first ensnare,
Too mean to let his name have here a share.
A double curse for them that thought it good,
Such a Wife shou'd sell such a Husband's Blood.
Still double, double, till I'm out of breath,
On all that had a hand, a finger in his Death,
My Curse, a Friends, a Wives, an Orphans too,
For all of this side damning is their due.
The little plagues of Egypt to begin:
Ashwe'nsdays curses for each lesser sin.
With whate're angry heaven since could find
To bait and lash impenitent mankind.
Gouts, Feavers, Frenzies, Claps, Consumptions, Cramps,
Whatever may put out their stinking Lamps:
May kind Abortions in some lucky hour,
The fruit and hope of their vain lust devour:
Or if they're born, may the unwholesome fry,
Creep only like young Toads abroad, and dye.
Heartily thus let's curse, and if vain pitty move,
Straight think agen on manly rage, and love.
Swear by his Blood, and better while we live,
This on our selves if we his blood forgive,
And may who e're his Murd'rers death deplore,
Feel all these curses and ten thousand more.
Dangerfield's Ghost to Jeffreys.
REvenge! Revenge! my injur'd shade begins
To haunt thy guilty Soul, and scourge thy sins:
For since to me thou ow'st the heaviest score,
Whose living words tormented thee before,
When dead, I'm come to plague thee yet once more.
Don't start away, and think thy Brass to hide,
But see the dismal shape in which I dy'd!
My Body all deform'd with putrid Gore,
Bleeding my Soul away at every Pore;
Pusht faster on by Francis, less unkind;
My Body swoln, and bloated as thy Mind.
This dangling Eye-ball rolls about in vain,
Never to find its proper seat again,
The hollow Cell usurpt by Blood and Brain:
The trembling Jury's Verdict ought to be
Murder'd at once, by Francis, and by Thee.
The Groans of Orphans, and the pond'rous guilt
Of all the Blood that thou hast ever spilt;
Thy Countreys Curse, the Rabbles spite, and all
Those Wishes sent thee since thy long wisht Fall;
The Nobles just Revenge, so bravely bought,
For all the Ills thy Insolence has wrought:
May these and more, their utmost force combine,
Joyn all their wrongs, and mix their Cries with mine.
And see, if Terror has not struck thee blind;
See here a long, a ghastly Train behind!
Far, far, from utmost WEST they crowd away,
And hov'ring o're, fright back the sickly Day.
Had the poor Wretches sinn'd as much as Thee,
Thou shou'dst not have forgot Humanity:
Who 'ere in Blood can so much pleasure take?
Tho' an ill Judge wou'd a good Hang-man make.
Each hollows in thy Ears, —Prepare! Prepare
For what thou must, yet what thou canst not bear!
Each, at thy Heart a bloody Dagger aims,
Upward to Gibbets point, downward to endless Flames.