On the ninth day of February, 1555, John Hooper called for more wood to be cast upon the fire. He stood bound to the stake, his legs already consumed by the flames, whilst the green faggots had been slow to kindle. “For God’s love, good people, give me more fire,” George Borrow records in his compilation of 1825.
The pyre was appointed to be raised before the College of Priests at Gloucester, within the diocese where Hooper had formerly ministered. The place brought the condemned prelate back to the very seat of his past labors. He had journeyed through Europe to escape religious persecution, returning to England only when the reign of Edward VI opened the way to the Reformation. He had been advanced to the bishoprics of Gloucester and Worcester. Under Mary Tudor, the doctrines he had taught became the ground of his imprisonment and his death.
Hooper had pursued his theological studies at Oxford. When he began to dispute certain doctrines and practices of the Roman Church, he was constrained to quit the university and repair to Germany. He subsequently established himself in Switzerland, remaining there until the demise of Henry VIII. Upon his return to England, he applied himself to preaching the Reformed faith. The youthful Edward VI preferred him to two episcopal sees, first Gloucester and then Worcester, rewarding the zeal with which the chronicle credits him.
The accession of Mary overturned his fortunes in short order. Doctors Heath and Bonner, prelates displaced during the preceding reign, lodged appeals against him. Hooper had himself formerly denounced Bonner before Edward VI for non-compliance with the statutes then in force; Heath had been deprived of his see. Hooper was cited to London to answer. His friends urged him to avoid the capital. He well knew the perils attendant upon the revival of Catholic influence and possessed the means to flee abroad once more; yet, according to the words Borrow attributes to him, he replied that he had fled in times past, but was now called to tarry with his flock.
His initial examination before the Council over which Gardiner presided turned upon his marriage and upon the corporeal presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Asked whether he were married, Hooper answered that he was, adding that he would not be separated from his wife until death should part them. Interrogated regarding the warrant for his rejection of the Eucharistic dogma, he appealed to Holy Writ and cited the words of Peter recorded in the Acts of the Apostles (iii. 21). The scribes set down his answers. Thus did a matter of private life and a theological difference become joined within the selfsame roll.
Gardiner laid before him an avenue of return. Should he renounce the errors disseminated under the late reign, acknowledge the supremacy of the Pope, and reconcile himself to the Catholic Church, he might enjoy the Queen’s favour, receive the pontifical blessing, and be restored to his dignity. Hooper refused. He declared he could not acknowledge as head of the Church one whose doctrines, in his eyes, stood contrary to those of Christ. He added that he submitted himself to the Queen’s clemency for any offence he might unwittingly have committed, but never at the expense of what he held to be his conscience before God.
The menace was not left veiled. Hooper was warned that the Queen would extend no mercy to those who repudiated the papal jurisdiction. Summoned a third time before Gardiner and the commissioners, he stood fast. His degradation and his delivery to the secular arm were decreed. At Newgate, within the prison chapel, the Bishop of London performed the appointed rite. Hooper remained eighteen months in ward, suffering from severe sciatica, an affliction Borrow imputes to the rigours of his confinement.
It was resolved that he should suffer at Gloucester. The return was not without a calculated cruelty: Hooper was to die within the diocese where he had taught, in the presence of the very people to whom he had preached those doctrines he was now enjoined to abjure. An escort of the Queen’s guard conducted him to the town and lodged him, upon his arrival, at a common inn.
Sir Anthony Kingston, one of the commissioners appointed to attend the execution, came to visit him. He was an old acquaintance. Borrow depicts him bursting into tears at the sight of Hooper. Kingston pressed him to embrace the sole recourse he saw remaining: to recant his positions and preserve his life. Hooper replied that he would not turn away from the doctrines he had preached within the diocese. He bade his friend rather pray that he might remain steadfast unto the end.
That same evening, the guards consigned Hooper into the hands of the sheriffs of Gloucester. The mayor and the members of the corporation came to wait upon him. He put them in mind of the truths he had taught them, and prayed that a fierce fire might make quick work of his dispatch, beseeching them not to be cast down by his fate. Rather did he exhort them to rejoice that he was counted worthy to suffer for a cause he deemed glorious. After this colloquy, he withdrew to a bedchamber and slept for a space. He then arose to pray and meditate in secret.
On the morning appointed for the execution, the commissioners sent word that he should make ready. About an hour later, he was led forth from the inn to the place of execution, clad in a gown lent by his host, with a hat upon his head and a staff in his hand. He went haltingly by reason of his sciatica. A great press of people had assembled. Borrow relates that tears ran down almost every cheek. Hooper observed that the populace had gathered perchance to hear his voice once more; in times past he had preached to them what he held to be the doctrine of God, and it was for refusing to recant that doctrine that he now stood condemned. He was not, however, permitted to address them.
He knelt down to pray. A box was brought forth, said to contain a pardon conditional upon his recantation. Hooper commanded that it be taken away. Lord Chandos ordered the officers to proceed, yet the condemned man begged leave to finish his devotions. Rising, he stripped off his garments down to his shirt and placed the gunpowder, which a guard had given him in a bladder, between his legs and beneath his arms. He was then bound to the stake. He called upon the bystanders to recite the Lord’s Prayer with him.
When the executioner asked his forgiveness, Hooper answered that he had never done him any wrong. The man explained that he was appointed to kindle the fire. “Thou dost not offend me in that,” Hooper replied, and bade him do his office. He took a bundle of reeds under each arm and pointed out where the remainder should be placed. The faggots were green and slow to take; the fire lagged in catching the reeds about his body, and the agony was prolonged. Hooper prayed. The wind blew exceeding hard; according to Borrow, the lower limbs burned first, whilst the flame took little hold upon the upper part of his body. A second fire had to be kindled with fresh faggots. It was then that he called out for more wood.
The crowd answered his plea and cast in further faggots; at last, the fire reached his upper torso. Borrow records that Hooper then cried out, “Lord Jesus, have mercy upon me,” and thereafter, “receive my spirit.” The chronicler estimates that the torment endured for nigh an hour. His tongue swelled to such a degree that he could no longer speak, yet his lips continued to move. At length, he bowed down and expired before the eyes of the multitude.