Peine Forte et Dure

A significant number of my pieces have found their inspiration in the distant past, particularly in the medieval history of York. For example, my choral ‘Apocalypse’ sets a text associated with the Prick of Conscience window at All Saints, North Street, the wind quartet ‘Grotesques’ drew upon the carved faces in the Chapter House of York Minster, and, most recently ‘A York Passion’ sets words from the York Mystery Play cycle. It isn’t just about exploring the past - I like to weave together ideas of past and present in my work, encountering places and people who now only exist in the minds of the living.

In August 2025 I was invited to compose something for choir; they were looking for a new setting of words by Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889) for a programme based around choral settings of his poetry, both old and new. I hadn't set Hopkins before so bought the collected edition to read on the train on my way home from Manchester, and, I must confess that on first reading I found it difficult to penetrate the dense religious imagery of his work. But towards the end of the collection came a revelation: a late, unfinished poem which re-tells the tragic story of Margaret Clitherow, that seemed much stronger and more direct in its narrative than some of his other poetry, and which of course established a firm connection with my ongoing infatuation with the history of York and the people who lived here long before me.

Statue of Margaret Clitherow in St. Wilfred's Church, York

Margaret Clitherow (1553-86) lived in York during the reign of Elizabeth I, a Catholic recusant who refused to follow the new Protestant religion. Her family home had been in Davygate and her father was a Rector at the church of St Martin-le-Grand in Coney Street. When she married John Clitherow she moved to The Shambles where he owned a butcher’s shop. Margaret was accused of celebrating Mass and hiding priests in her home and elsewhere, including the Black Swan Inn on Peasholme Green, York, according to local legend.

"Having made no offense, sir, I need no trial."

Since she refused to enter a plea (to protect her family and prevent them from having to appear in court) she was sentenced to death by peine forte et dure – her body was to be crushed by having heavy weights placed on her.

“You must return from whence you came, and in the lower part of the prison, be stripped naked, laid down, your back on the ground, and as much weight laid on you as you are able to bear. On the third day, with your feet tied to posts and a sharp stone under your back, you will be pressed to death.” (Judge George Clinch - Court of York)

In spite of her being pregnant with a fourth child at the time, this shocking sentence was carried out; the execution took place on 25th March 1586 in the Toll Booth near the Ouse Bridge, then the site of York’s prison. The sentence had stipulated that her execution should be extended over three days but mercifully she died after fifteen minutes, and her body was disposed of in secret in order to avoid her being considered a martyr by local people sympathetic to her cause; interestingly, a young Guy Fawkes was living in York at that time and would surely have known about (and may even have witnessed) the execution.

Margaret Clitherow was canonised in 1970 by Pope Paul VI and is venerated as a Catholic saint; there is a shrine to her memory in The Shambles (actually opposite the house where she lived) and one of her hands is preserved as a sacred relic at the Bar Convent in York. Clitherow's life and the details of her trial were recorded in the Trewe Reporte of the Lyfe and Marterdome of Mrs Margarete Clitherowe, by John Mush, written within three months of her death by a man who knew her well, and thanks to Mush we have a record of some of the words spoken at her trial.

Hopkins’ poem, discovered amongst the papers of his estate on his death in 1889, includes one incomplete stanza and another where the final refrain is omitted; the incomplete stanza (in which he compares Margaret to St Thecla and the Virgin Mary) I have omitted from my setting, and I have attempted sympathetically to complete the final line of the other, although it did entail adjustment of the text in order to make it consistent with Hopkins’ rhyming scheme, important for my setting.

In my setting, called Peine Forte et Dure, Hopkins’ words are sung by the chorus in a series of verses which retain a common harmonic sequence, but in each verse the final refrain (on Margaret Clitherow’s name) the music is varied. Between verses, the choir speak or whisper words from the trial of Margaret Clitherow alongside a sung setting of Latin text from Ave Verum Corpus: words that Margaret would have known and which seem particularly apt in this context as Hopkins compares Margaret’s suffering to that of Christ on the cross.

As always, the first performance cannot come soon enough for me, but in the meantime, here are some photographs, from an afternoon walk around York retracing Margaret's footsteps.

Little remains of the medieval church of St Martin-le-Grand in Coney Street, since it was heavily damaged by German bombing in 1942, but we can assume that Margaret would have known it well as her father's workplace, yards from their home in Davygate.

The site of John Clitherow's butchers in The Shambles, where Margaret concealed priests in a secret room.

Local legend holds that Margaret also hid priests at the Black Swan inn on Peasholme Green. This would been a particularly audacious move since royal officials also lodged here.

The present Ouse Bridge was built in 1821, replacing the bridge that Margaret would have known. An earlier medieval bridge had been washed away by floods when Margaret was a young child so she might have seen the 'new' bridge being built; in her day there was also a chapel and shops on the bridge. The toll booth where she was executed was situated on the far bank, with the prison below.

There is a plaque on the Ouse Bridge near to the place where she was executed.

The Shrine of Margaret Clitherow in the Shambles; there is some confusion about the exact location of her house since the street was subsequently renumbered, but most authorities now believe it was opposite the shrine.