The Condition of Catholics Under James I.
author: John Morris; John Gerard
edition published: February 7, 2011
language: en; fr; la
availability: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License online at www.gutenberg.org/license

The Condition of Catholics Under James I.

Father Gerard's Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot

Edited, With His Life, By

John Morris,

Priest of the Society of Jesus

London: Longmans, Green, & Co.

1871

Contents

The Life Of Father John Gerard

I.

The life and character of a witness are the grounds on which we base our estimate of his credibility. That he should have spoken of himself at great length and with many and minute details is a circumstance most favourable to the formation of an accurate judgment respecting him. Such is fortunately our position with regard to Father John Gerard, the author of the Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot. He has left a full and most interesting autobiography in Latin; and we have felt that we could not do the reader a better service, or better establish the good fame of a man who has been unjustly accused, than by prefixing to his Narrative translations of large portions of his Autobiography. When the life of Father Gerard is before the reader, we will address ourselves directly to the subject of his veracity, and in conclusion, we will give what is known of the history of the Autobiography, and of the autograph manuscript from which the Narrative of the Powder Plot is printed.

John Gerard was the second son of Sir Thomas Gerard, of Bryn,[^1] Lancashire, Knight, and Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Port, of Etwal, Derbyshire, Knight. In the Narrative[^2] of the Plot, when he has occasion to speak of his elder brother Thomas, who received knighthood from King James on his accession, he says “that was to him no advancement whose ancestors had been so for sixteen or seventeen descents together.” This Sir Thomas was made a baronet at the first creation of that dignity in 1611.

[^1: “William Gerard, son of William who died at Eton-hall in 26 Edward III. [1352], by his marriage with Joan, daughter and heiress of Sir Peter Bryn de Brynhill, convertible into Sir Peter Brynhill de Bryn, became possessed of Bryn, Ashton, and other estates, which have remained in the Gerards of Bryn ever since.” ... “This family have had four seats within the township of Ashton, viz., Old Bryn, abandoned five centuries ago; New Bryn, erected in the reign of Edward VI.; Garswood, taken down at the beginning of the present century; and the New Hall, the present residence of the family, built by the Launders about the year 1692, and purchased by the Gerards forty years ago” (Baines, Hist. of Lancaster, 1836, vol. iii., pp. 637, 639).]

[^2: Infra p. 27.]

“I was born,” in 1564, “of Catholic parents, who never concealed their profession, for which they suffered much from our heretic rulers; so much so that, when a child of five years of age, I was forced, together with my brother who was also a child, to dwell among heretics under another roof, for that my father, with two other gentlemen, had been cast into the Tower of London, for having conspired to restore the Scottish Queen to liberty and to her kingdom. She was at that time confined in the county of Derby” [at Tutbury[^3]] “at two miles distance from us. Three years afterwards, my father, having obtained his release by the payment of a large sum, brought us home, free however from any taint of heresy, as he had maintained a Catholic tutor over us.”

[^3: Tutbury is in Staffordshire, on the borders of Derbyshire, near to Etwal.]

Sir Thomas Gerard was again in the Tower of London later on, and had been there more than two years when his son landed in England as a Priest.[^4] A little before this imprisonment, he had been summoned by his kinsman,[^5] Sir Gilbert Gerard, the Master of the Rolls, to compound for his recusancy by the “free offer” of a yearly sum to be paid to the Queen, “to be freed from the penalty of the statute.” As it gives an excellent idea of the exactions to which wealthy Catholics were continually subjected in those days, we subjoin Sir Thomas' “offer.” The original in the Public Record Office[^6] is signed by himself.

[^4: Public Record Office, Domestic, Elizabeth, vol. 215, n. 19. “Return of Prisoners in the Tower,” endorsed in Lord Burghley's hand, “2 Julii, 1588” [an error for August]. “April 1, 1585. Imprimis, the Earl of Arundel, prisoner three years four months.... August 23, 1586. Sir Thomas Gerard, Knight, prisoner one year eleven months: indicted for treason.” At the end of the list are the names of five Priests “committed for religion.” From the Tower Sir Thomas Gerard was removed to the Counter in Wood-street (Domestic, Eliz., vol. 217, n. 27).]

[^5: Sir Gilbert Gerard was of the family of the Gerards of Ince, a younger branch of the Gerards of Bryn. His eldest son, Sir Thomas, was the first Lord Gerard of Gerards Bromley.]

[^6: Domestic, Eliz., vol. 187, n. 48, viii.]

“14 die Martii, 1585.”

“Sir Thomas Gerard saith that he is greatly in debt, by reason of his troubles and suretyship, and payeth large interest for the same; and hath sold much of his lands and departed with a large portion of the rest unto his sons; and hath two daughters to bestow, so that he is not able to offer any great sums unto Her Highness in this behalf” [preparation to resist the Spanish invasion]. “Yet, nevertheless, he most humbly submitteth himself unto Her Majesty's pleasure, offering his person to serve Her Highness in any place of the world. And if he shall not be admitted thereto, then he offereth, with very good will, 30l. a-year, which is the fourth part of his small portion remaining, now left to maintain himself, his poor wife and children.”

“Thomas Gerard.”

The name of “Dame Elizabeth Gerard” heads the list of thirty-three “Recusants sometimes resident about London and in Middlesex, but now dispersed into other countries.”

With regard to the mention of property transferred by Sir Thomas Gerard to his sons, it may be interesting to quote from the information of a spy,[^7] given just ten years later, the following details—

[^7: P. R. O., Domestic, Eliz., vol. 251, n. 14. Feb. 3, 1595.]

“Item, John Gerard the Jesuit hath certain houses in Lancashire, called Brockehouse Row, near Ashton; he hath made leases, and one tenant hath not paid all his fine: old John Southworth, dwelling thereabouts, is his bailiff, who can show how else the land and title standeth.”

“At the age of fifteen,” the Autobiography resumes, “I was sent to Exeter College, Oxford, where my tutor was a certain Mr. Leutner,[^8] a good and learned man, and a Catholic in mind and heart. There however I did not stay more than a twelvemonth, as at Easter the heretics sought to force us to attend their worship, and to partake of their counterfeit sacrament. I returned then with my brother to my father's house, whither Mr. Leutner himself soon followed us, being resolved to live as a Catholic in very deed, and not merely in desire. While there, he superintended our Latin studies for the next two years, but afterwards going to Belgium, he lived and died there most holily. As for Greek, we were at the same time placed under the tuition of a good and pious Priest, William Sutton by name, to whom this occupation served as an occasion for dwelling in our house unmolested. He afterwards entered the Society, and was drowned on the coast of Spain, whither Superiors had called him.”

[^8: Probably Edmund Lewckener, who appears in the College books as one of the new fellows on Sir W. Petre's foundation in 1566.]

“At the age of nineteen I passed over to France, by permission, with the object of learning the French tongue, and resided for three years at Rhemes. While there, though yet a lad, and far from being solidly grounded in my Humanities, I applied myself to the study of Sacred Scripture, consulting the commentators for the sense of the more difficult passages, and writing down with my own hand the explanations given publicly to the theological students. Being my own master, I did not, as I ought to have done, lay a sufficiently solid foundation. My own taste guided my choice of authors, and I sedulously read the works of St. Bernard and St. Bonaventure, and such other spiritual writers. About this time I made, by God's providence, the acquaintance of a saintly young man, who had been admitted into the Society at Rome, but having for reasons of health been sent out for a time, was then living at Rhemes. He gave me the details of his past life; he told me (may the Lord reward him) how he had been educated in the household of God; he taught me how good and wholesome it was for a man to have borne the yoke from his youth. He taught me the method of mental prayer; for which exercise we were wont to meet together at stated hours, as we were not living in the College, but in different lodgings in the town. It was there that, when about twenty years of age, I heard the call of God's infinite mercy and loving kindness inviting me from the crooked ways of the world to the straight path, to the perfect following of Christ in His holy Society.”

“After my three years' residence at Rhemes, I went to Clermont College, at Paris, to see more closely the manner of the Society's life, and to be more solidly grounded in Humanities and Philosophy. I had not been there one year, when I fell dangerously ill. After my recovery, I accompanied Father Thomas Darbyshire to Rouen, in order to see Father Persons, who had arrived thither from England, and was staying incognito in that city, to superintend the publication of his Christian Directory, a most useful and happy work, which in my opinion has converted to God more souls than it contains pages. The heretics themselves have known how to appreciate it, as appears from a recent edition thereof published by one of their ministers, who sought to claim the glory of so important a work. To Father Persons then did I communicate my vocation, and my desire of joining the Society. But as I was not yet strong, nor fit to continue my studies, and, moreover, as I had some property to dispose of and arrangements to make in England, he advised me to return thither, so as to recruit my health by breathing my native air, and at the same time to free myself from every obstacle which might prevent or delay me in my pursuit of perfection and the Religious life. I accordingly went home, and after settling my affairs, set out on my return, in about a year; this time, however, without having asked for a license, for I had no hope of obtaining it, as I did not venture to communicate my plans to my parents.”

“I embarked then with some other Catholics, and after having been kept five days at sea by contrary winds, we were forced to put in at the port of Dover. On arriving thither, we were all seized by the Custom House officers, and forwarded to London in custody. My companions were imprisoned, on a warrant of the Queen's Privy Council. For my own part, though I declared myself a Catholic, and refused to attend their worship, I escaped imprisonment at that time, as there were some of the Council that were friendly to my family, and had procured me the license to travel abroad on the former occasion. They entertained, it would seem, some hopes of perverting me in course of time, so I was sent to my maternal uncle's, a Protestant, to be kept in his custody, and if possible, to be perverted. He, after three months, sought to obtain my full liberty by praying or paying;[^9] but being asked whether I had gone to church, as they call it, he was obliged to acknowledge that he could never bring me to do so. Thereupon the Council sent me with a letter to the pseudo-Bishop of London,[^10] who having read it, asked whether I would allow him to confer with me on religious matters. I replied, that as I doubted of nothing, I had rather decline. ‘You must in that case,’ answered the Superintendent, ‘remain here in custody.’ I replied that in this I was obliged to acquiesce, through force and the command of the Government. He treated me with kindness, with a view perhaps of thus drawing me over. But he ordered his chaplain's bed to be brought into my chamber. At first I repeatedly declared my determination not to enter into any dispute with this man on matters of faith, as to which my mind was settled, nor to receive religious instruction from him; but as he ceased not pouring forth abuse and blasphemy against the Saints in Heaven, and against our Holy Mother the Church, I was forced to defend the truth, and then almost the whole night was spent in disputing. I soon discovered that in him at least God's truth had no very formidable adversary. After two days, as they saw my case was hopeless, they sent me back to the Council with letters of recommendation forsooth, for the so-called Bishop told me that he had greatly striven in my favour, and that he had great hopes of my being set at large. It was, however, a Uriah's letter that I carried, for no sooner had the Council read it, than they ordered me to be imprisoned until I had learnt to be a loyal subject. For they hold him a bad subject who will not subject himself to their heresies and their sacrilegious worship.”

[^9: Prece vel pretio (MS.).]

[^10: John Elmer, Bishop of London from 1576 to 1588.]

“Being committed to the Marshalsea prison, I found there numbers of Catholics and some Priests[^11] awaiting judgment of death with the greatest joy. In this school of Christ I was detained from the beginning of one Lent” [March 5, 1584] “to the end of the following, not without abundant consolation of mind, and good opportunity for study.”

[^11: There were 47 Catholics in the prison, of whom 11 were Priests, amongst whom were William Hartley and John Adams, future martyrs, and William Bishop, the first Vicar Apostolic (P. R. O., Domestic, Eliz., vol. 170, n. 11).]

“Twice during this interval we were all dragged before the Courts, not to be tried for our lives, but to be fined according to the law against recusants. I was condemned to pay 2,000 florins [200l.].[^12] The Court was held in the country, some six miles out of London....”[^13]

[^12: In a letter dated October 3, 1614 (Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., iv., 24), Father Gerard says that ‘7 florins of Liége make but 6 of Brabant, 12s. English.’ So we may turn his florins into pounds by taking off the last cypher.]

[^13: Another occasion may present itself for placing before the reader the many anecdotes of the English Martyrs related in the Autobiography, that are now passed over.]

“At times our cells were visited, and a strict search made for church stuff, Agnus Dei, and relics. Once we were, almost all of us, betrayed by a false brother, who had feigned to be a Catholic, and disclosed our hidden stores to the authorities. On this occasion were seized quantities of Catholic books and sacred objects, enough to fill a cart. In my cell were found nearly all the requisites for saying Mass: for my next-door neighbour was a good Priest, and we discovered a secret way of opening the door between us so that we had Mass very early every morning. We afterwards repaired our losses, nor could the malice of the devil again deprive us of so great a consolation in our bonds.”

“In the course of the following year, my liberty was obtained by the importunities of my friends, who however were bound as sureties, to the extent of a heavy sum of money, for my remaining in the kingdom. I was, moreover, to present myself at the prison at the three months' end. And these sureties had to be renewed three or four times before I was able to resume my project. At length the long-wished-for opportunity presented itself. A very dear friend of mine offered himself as bail to meet whatever demand might be made, if I was discovered to be missing after the appointed time. After my departure, he forfeited not indeed his money, but his life: for he was one of the most conspicuous of those fourteen gentlemen who suffered in connection with the captive Queen of Scots, and whose execution, as events soon showed, was but a prelude to taking off the Queen herself.”

“Being at length free, I went to Paris;[^14] and finding Father William Holt, who had just arrived from Scotland, ready to start for Rome with the Provincial of France, I joined myself to their company. At Rome I was advised to pursue my studies in the English College, and to take Priest's Orders before I entered the Society. I followed this advice, despite my ardent desire of entering Religion, which I communicated to Father Persons, and to Father Holt, the then Rector of the English College. But as the Roman climate was not suited to my constitution, and I had an extreme desire of going to England, it seemed good to the Fathers to put me at the beginning of the year to casuistry and controversies; I went therefore through a complete course of Positive Theology. Towards its close, when the Spanish Armada was nearing the coasts of England, Cardinal Allen thought fit to send me to England for various matters connected with Catholic interests, but as I still wanted several months of the lawful age for taking Priest's Orders, a Papal dispensation was obtained. I was most unwilling to depart unless I was first admitted into the Society, so Father Persons, out of his singular charity towards me, obtained my admission to the Novitiate, which I was to finish in England. There were at that time in the English College some others who had the like vocation, and we used to strive to conform ourselves as much as possible to the Novices at St. Andrew's, serving in the kitchen, and visiting hospitals. On the Feast of the Assumption of the Most Blessed Virgin Mary, 1588, our Very Rev. Father General Aquaviva received Father Edward Ouldcorne of blessed memory and my unworthy self into the Society of Jesus, and gave us his blessing for the English Mission.”

[^14: Father Gerard was present, he says, at the martyrdom of William Thomson, who suffered at Tyburn, April 20, 1586. Father Holt became Rector of the English College at Rome, October 24, 1586; and the name of John Gerard is the first entry for 1587 in the College Catalogue.]

II.

“I started then on my homeward journey,[^15] in company with Father Ouldcorne and two other Priests who had been students at the English College.”... “As we passed through Rhemes, where there was an English Seminary, and through Paris, we kept the strictest incognito.”

[^15: When Father Gerard has occasion, in his Narrative of the Powder Plot, to relate what he knows of Father Ouldcorne's history, he gives an account of this journey (infr. p. 279).]

Father Gerard's passing through Paris was not as little known as he thought, and without being aware of it, he then fell into the gravest of the perils that beset the poor Catholics of England, the “perils from false brethren.” Gilbert Gifford, alias Jacques Colerdin, “an English Priest and Bachelor in Theology,” as he describes himself in his petition[^16] to the Archbishop of Paris for liberation from his prison in Paris, was one of Sir Francis Walsyngham's most copious correspondents. He had been arrested for Babington's conspiracy, and turned spy to save his life. He had a pension[^17] from Walsyngham of 100l. a-year for his treachery, the suspicion of which caused his imprisonment. Apparently from his prison, he found means to write a letter[^18] to his employers, in which the following sentence occurs: “There be 8 Priests over from Rome, whereof John Gerard and Arthur Shefford a Priest, and his man, will be in England within five days.”

[^16: P. R. O., Domestic, Eliz. vol. 217, n. 81.]

[^17: P. R. O., Domestic, Eliz., vol. 199, nn. 95, 96.]

[^18: Ibid, vol. 217, n. 3. The Calendar gives for its date Oct. 1, 1588. The postscript of the letter bears the date “8 Septembris.”]

In all unconsciousness Father Gerard proceeds: “At length we came to Eu, where a College for English youths had been established, which was afterwards abandoned on account of the wars, and another more extensive establishment erected at St. Omers. Our Fathers at Eu, after conferring with those who had the management of the College in that town, all strongly opposed our venturing into England as circumstances then were, for that the Spanish attempt had exasperated the public mind against Catholics, and most rigid searches and domiciliary visits had been set on foot; that guards were posted in every village along the roads and streets; that the Earl of Leicester, then at the height of his favour, had sworn not to leave a single Catholic alive at the close of the year, but this man of blood did not live out half his days, for he was cut off in that very same year. We were compelled then to stay there for a time, until fresh instructions were sent us by Father Persons in the name of Father General. They were to this effect, that the state of affairs had indeed much changed since our departure from Rome, but that, as it was the Lord's business that we had to do, he left us free either to wait the return of greater calm or to pursue the course we had entered upon. On receiving this desirable message we did not long deliberate, but immediately hired a ship to land us in the northern part of England, which seemed to be less disturbed. Two Priests from Rhemes joined us, as our former companions preferred to take time before they faced the dangers which awaited them on the opposite shores.”

“The ship then set sail with four Priests on board, a goodly cargo indeed, had not my unworthiness deprived me of the crown, for all those other three suffered martyrdom for the faith. The two Priests were soon taken, and being in a short space made perfect, they fulfilled a long time. Their names were Christopher Bales and George Beesley,[^19] but my companion, the blessed Father Ouldcorne, after having spent eighteen years of toil and labour in the Lord's vineyard, watered it at length with his blood.”

[^19: They both suffered in Fleet Street; Christopher Bales on March 4, 1590, and George Beesley on July 2, 1591. They were condemned under the statute 27 Elizabeth, for being made Priests beyond the seas and exercising their functions in England.]

“After crossing the Channel, as we were sailing along the English coast on the third day, my companion and I, seeing a convenient spot in which the ship's boat might easily set us on shore, and considering that it were dangerous if we were to land all together, recommended the matter to God and took counsel with our companions. We then ordered the ship to anchor until dark, and in the first watch we were put ashore in the boat and left there, whereupon the ship immediately set sail and departed. We remained there awhile commending ourselves in prayer to God's providence; then we sought out some path which might lead us further inland, at a greater distance from the sea, before the day should dawn. But the night being dark and cloudy we could not strike out any path that would lead us to the open country, but every way we tried always brought us to some dwelling, as we were made aware by the barking of the dogs. As this happened some two or three times we began to fear lest we might rouse some of the inhabitants, and be seized upon as thieves or burglars. We therefore turned into a neighbouring wood, where we proposed to rest during the night. But the rain and the cold (for it was about the end of October) rendered sleep impossible, nor did we dare to speak aloud to one another, as the wood was in the neighbourhood of a house, but we deliberated in whispers whether to set out together for London or to part company, so that if one were taken the other might escape. Having pondered the reasons on both sides, we determined to set forth each by himself, and to take different routes.”

“At day-dawn, then, we cast lots who should first leave the wood, and the lot fell on the good Father who was also the first to leave this world for Heaven. We then made an equal division of what money we had, and after embracing and receiving one from the other a blessing, the future martyr went along the sea-shore to a neighbouring town, where he fell in with some sailors who were thinking of going to London. Being prudent and cautious, he strove by cheerfulness to accommodate himself to their humours in indifferent things. But twice or thrice he could not withhold from reproving their coarse and filthy language, though he imperilled himself by so doing, as he afterwards told me.”... “Evil as they were, he did not so displease them, but that, by their means, and the protection they unwittingly afforded, he was enabled to reach London without molestation; for the watchers, who were in almost every town through which he passed, taking him to be one of the party, cared not to annoy those whose appearance and carriage distinguished them so completely from those for whom they were keeping watch.”

“When my companion had departed, I too set out, but by a different road. I had not gone far before I saw some country folks coming towards me. I went up to them and inquired about a stray falcon, whether they had heard the tinkling of his bells. For I wanted them to think that I had lost a falcon, and was going through the country in search of it, as is usual with those who have sustained such a loss, so that they might not wonder why I was strange to the country and had to ask my way. They of course had neither seen nor heard any such thing of late, and seemed sorry that they could not direct my search. I then went with a disappointed air to examine the neighbouring trees and hedges, as if to look for my bird. Thus I was able, without awakening suspicion, to keep clear of the highway, and to get further and further from the sea-shore by going across country. Whenever I saw any one in a field I went up to him and put the same series of questions about the falcon, concealing thereby my anxiety to keep out of the public roads and villages, where I knew sentinels were posted with power to examine every stranger. I thus managed to expend the best part of that day, walking some eight or ten miles, not in a straight line, but by doubling and returning frequently on my steps. At length, being quite soaked with rain and exhausted with hunger and fatigue, for I had scarcely been able to take any food or rest on board ship for the tossing of the waves, I turned into a village inn which lay in my road, for those who go to the inns are less liable to be questioned.”

“There I refreshed myself well, and found mine host very agreeable, especially as I wanted to buy a pony he had in his stable. I concluded the bargain at a reasonable price, for the owner was not very rich, but I took it as a means of more speedy and safer transit, for foot-passengers are frequently looked upon as vagrants, and even in quiet times are liable to arrest.”

“Next morning I mounted my pony and turned towards Norwich, the capital of that county. I had scarcely ridden two miles when I fell in with the watchers at the entrance of a village, who bade me halt and began to ask me who I was and whence I came. I told them that I was the servant of a certain lord who lived in a neighbouring county (with whom I was well acquainted, though he was unknown to them), that my falcon had flown away, and that I had come to this part of the country to recover him if he should have been found. They found no flaw in my story, yet they would not let me go, but said I must be brought before the constable and the beadle,[^20] who were both in church at the time, at their profane heretical service. I saw that I could neither fly nor resist, nor could I prevail with these men, so, yielding to necessity, I went with them as far as the churchyard. One of the party entered the church and brought word that the beadle wished me to come into the church, and that he would see me when service was over. I replied that I would wait for him where I was. ‘No, no,’ said the messenger, ‘you must go into the church.’ ‘I shall stop here,’ I returned, ‘I do not want to lose sight of my horse.’ ‘What!’ said the man, ‘you won't dismount to go and hear the Word of God! I can only warn you that you will make no very favourable impression; as to your horse, I myself will engage to get you a better one, if you are so anxious about him.’ ‘Go and tell him,’ said I, ‘that if he wants me, either he must come at once or I will wait here.’ As soon as my message was taken to him, the beadle came out with some others to examine me. I could easily see he was not best pleased. He began by demanding whence I came. I answered by naming certain places which I had learnt were not far off. To his questions as to my name, condition, dwelling, and business, I made the same answers as above. He then asked whether I had any letters with me, on which I offered to allow him to search my person. This he did not do, but said he should be obliged to take me before the Justice of the Peace.[^21] I professed my readiness to go, should he deem it needful, but that I was in a hurry to get back to my master after my long absence, so that if it could be managed I should be better pleased to be allowed to go on. At first he stood to his resolution, and I saw nothing for it but to go before the Justice and to be committed to gaol, as doubtless would have been the case. But suddenly looking at me with a calmer countenance, he said, ‘You look like an honest man: go on in God's name, I do not want to trouble you any more.’ Nor did God's providence abandon me in my further journey. As I rode onward towards the town, I saw a young man on horseback with a pack riding on before me. I wanted to come up with him, so as to get information about the state of the town, and ask the fittest inn for me to put up at, and he looked like one of whom I could make such inquiries without exciting suspicion; but his horse being better than mine I could not gain upon him, urge my pony how I would. After following him at a distance for two or three miles, it chanced by God's will that he dropped his pack, and was obliged to dismount in order to pick it up and strap it on. As I came up I found he was an unpolished youth, well fitted for my purpose. From him I acquired information that would have been very useful had any danger befallen, but, as it was, by his means the Lord so guided me, that I escaped all danger. For I inquired about a good inn near the city gate, that I might not weary my horse in going from street to street in search of one. He told me there was such an inn on the other side of the city; but that if I wanted to put up there I must go round the town. Having learnt the way thereto and the sign of the house, I thanked my informant, and left him to pursue his road, which led straight through the town, the same way I should have followed had I not met with such a guide, and in that case I should have run into certain danger, nor would any of those things have befallen which afterwards came to pass for God's greater glory and the salvation of many souls.”

[^20: Ad subcuratorem pacis, et ad censorem (MS.). The above are conjectural renderings. These seem to have been only village officials.]

[^21: Irenarchâ aut curatore pacis (MS.).]

“Following then the advice of the young man, I went round the skirts of the city to the gate he had described, and as soon as I entered I saw my inn. I had rested me but a little while there, when a man who seemed to be an acquaintance of the people of the house came in. After greeting me civilly, he sat down in the chimney corner, and dropped some words about some Catholic gentlemen who were kept in gaol there; and he mentioned one whose relative had been a companion of mine in the Marshalsea some seven years since. I silently noted his words, and when he had gone out, I asked who he might be. They answered that he was a very honest fellow in other points, but a Papist. I inquired how they came to know that. They replied that it was a well-known fact, as he had been many years imprisoned in the Castle there (which was but a stone's throw from where I was); that many Catholic gentlemen were confined there, and that he had been but lately let out. I asked whether he had abandoned the Faith in order to be at large. ‘No indeed,’ said they, ‘nor is he likely to, for he is a most obstinate man. But he has been set free under an engagement to come back to prison, when called for. He has some business with a gentleman in the prison, and he comes here pretty often, on that account.’ I held my tongue, and awaited his return. As soon as he came back, and we were alone, I told him I should wish to speak with him apart, that I had heard that he was a Catholic, and for that reason I trusted him, as I also was a Catholic: that I had come there by a sort of chance, but wanted to get on to London: that it would be a good deed worthy of a Catholic, were he to do me the favour of introducing me to some parties who might be going the same road, and who were well known, so that I might be allowed to pass on by favour of their company: that being able to pay my expenses, I should be no burden to my companions. He replied that he knew not of any one who was then going to London. I hereon inquired if he could hire a person who would accompany me for a set price. He said he would look out some such one, but that he knew of a gentleman then in the town, who might be able to forward my business. He went to find him, and soon returning desired me to accompany him. He took me into a shop, as if he were going to make some purchase. The gentleman he had mentioned was there, having appointed the place that he might see me before he made himself known. At length he joined us, and told my companion in a whisper that he believed I was a Priest. He led us therefore to the cathedral, and having put me many questions, he at last urged me to say whether or no I was a Priest, promising that he would assist me, at that time a most acceptable offer. On my side, I inquired from my previous acquaintance the name and condition of this party; and on learning it, as I saw God's providence in so ready an assistance, I told him I was a Priest of the Society, who had come from Rome. He performed his promise, and procured for me a change of clothes, and made me mount a good horse, and took me without delay into the country to the house of a personal friend, leaving one of his servants to bring on my little pony. The next day we arrived at his house, where he and his family resided, together with a brother of his who was a heretic. They had with them a widowed sister, also a heretic, who kept house for them; so that I was obliged to be careful not to give any ground for them to suspect my calling. The heretic brother at my first coming was somewhat suspicious, seeing me arrive in his Catholic brother's company unknown as I was, and perceiving no reason why the latter should make so much of me. But after a day or so, he quite abandoned all mistrust, as I spoke of hunting and falconry with all the details that none but a practised person could command. For many make sad blunders in attempting this, as Father Southwell, who was afterwards my companion in many journeys, was wont to complain. He frequently got me to instruct him in the technical terms of sport, and used to complain of his bad memory for such things, for on many occasions when he fell in with Protestant gentlemen, he found it necessary to speak of these matters, which are the sole topics of their conversation, save when they talk obscenity, or break out into blasphemies and abuse of the Saints or the Catholic faith. In these cases it is of course desirable to turn the conversation to other subjects, and to speak of horses, of hounds, and such like. Thus it often happens that trifling covers truth,[^22] as it did with me on this occasion. After a short sojourn of a few days, I proposed to my newly-found friend, the Catholic brother, my intention of going to London, to meet my Superior. He therefore provided me with a horse, and sent a servant along with me; begging me at the same time to obtain leave to return to that county, and to make his house my home, for he assured me that I should bring over many to the faith, were I to converse with them publicly as he had seen me do. I pledged myself to lay his offer before Father Garnett, and said that I would willingly return if he should approve of it. So I departed, and arrived in London without accident, having met with no obstacle on the road. I have gone into these particulars, to show how God's providence guarded me on my first landing in England; for without knowing a single soul in that county, where until then I had never set foot, as it was far distant from my native place, on the very first day I found a friend who not only saved me from present peril, but who afterwards, by introducing me to the principal families in the county, furnished an opportunity for many conversions; and from the acquaintance I then made, and the knowledge the Catholics in those parts had of me in consequence, all that God chose hereafter to do by my weakness took its origin, as will appear by the sequel.”

[^22: Ut vanitas veritatem occultet (MS.).]

III.

“On my arrival in London, by the help of certain Catholics I discovered Father Henry Garnett, who was then Superior. Besides him, the only others of our Society then in England were Father Edmund Weston,[^23] confined at Wisbech (who, had he been at large, would have been Superior), Father Robert Southwell, and we two new-comers.”

[^23: Father William Weston, commonly called Father Edmonds.]

“My companion, Father Ouldcorne, had already arrived, so the Superior was rather anxious on my account, as nothing had been heard of me; but yet for that very reason hopes were entertained of my safety. It was with exceeding joy on both sides that we met at last. I stayed some time with the Fathers, and we held frequent consultations as to our future proceedings. The good Superior gave us excellent instructions as to the method of helping and gaining souls, as did also Father Southwell, who much excelled in that art, being at once prudent, pious, meek, and exceedingly winning. As Christmas was nigh at hand, it was necessary to separate, both for the consolation of the Faithful, and because the dangers are always greater in the great solemnities.”

“I was then sent back to my friend in the county where I was first set ashore. This time the Superior provided me with clothes and other necessaries, that I might not be a burden to my charitable host at the outset. But afterwards, throughout the whole period of my missionary labours, the fatherly providence of God supplied both for me and for some others. My dress was of the same fashion as that of gentlemen of moderate means. The necessity of this was shown by reason and subsequent events; for, from my former position, I was more at ease in this costume, and could maintain a less embarrassed bearing, than if I had assumed a character to which I was unaccustomed. Then, too, I had to appear in public and meet many Protestant gentlemen, with whom I could not have held communication with a view to lead them on to a love of the Faith and a desire of virtue, had I not adopted this garb. I found it helped me, not only to speak more freely and with greater authority, but to remain with greater safety, and for a longer interval of time, in any place or family to which my host introduced me as his friend and acquaintance.”

“Thus it happened that I remained for six or eight months, with some profit to souls, in the family of my first friend and host; during which time, he took me with him to nearly every gentleman's house in the county. Before the eight months were passed, I gained over and converted many to the Church: among whom were my host's brother, his brother-in-law, and his two sisters; one of these, as I have before mentioned, was my friend's housekeeper, and had been all along a notable Calvinist.”

“I reconciled, moreover, the sister of a Judge[^24] who even now is the most firm support of the Calvinist party. This lady, having been brought up in his house, had been strongly imbued with this heresy. A very remarkable thing had happened to her some time previously. Being very anxious as to the state of her soul, she went to a certain Doctor of the University of Cambridge, of the name of Perne,[^25] who she knew had changed his religion some three or four times under different sovereigns, but yet was in high repute for learning. Going to this Dr. Perne, then, who was an intimate friend of her family, she conjured him to tell her honestly and undisguisedly what was the sound orthodox faith whereby she might attain Heaven. The Doctor, finding himself thus earnestly appealed to by a woman of discretion and good sense, replied: ‘I conjure you never to disclose to another what I am going to say. Since, then, you have pressed me to answer as if I had to give an account of your soul, I will tell you, that you can, if you please, live in the religion now professed by the Queen and her whole kingdom, for so you will live more at ease, and be exempt from all the vexations the Catholics have to undergo. But by no means die out of the faith and communion of the Catholic Church, if you would save your soul.’ Such was the answer of this poor man, but such was not his practice; for, putting off his conversion from day to day, it fell out that, when he least expected, on his return home from dining with the pseudo-Archbishop of Canterbury, he dropped down dead as he was entering his apartment, without the least sign of repentance, or of Christian hope of that eternal bliss which he had too easily promised to himself and to others after a life of a contrary tendency. She to whom he gave the above-mentioned advice was more fortunate than he, and though she at first by no means accepted his estimate of the Catholic faith, yet later on, having frequently heard from me that the Catholic faith alone was true and holy, she began to have doubts, and in consequence brought me an heretical work which had served to confirm her in her heresy, and showed me the various arguments it contained. I, on the other hand, pointed out to her the quibbles, the dishonest quotations from Scripture and the Fathers, and the misstatement of facts which the book contained. And so, by God's grace, from the scorpion itself was drawn the remedy against the scorpion's sting, and she has lived ever since constant in her profession of the Catholic faith to which she then returned.”

[^24: The name ‘Yelverton’ is added in the margin. Sir Christopher Yelverton was at this time Queen's Serjeant, and subsequently Speaker of the House of Commons, and Puisne Judge of the King's Bench. He died in 1607. His son, Sir Henry Yelverton, Judge of the Court of Common Pleas, condemned Father Edmund Arrowsmith in 1628, and died in the January following.]

[^25: Dr. Andrew Perne, Master of Peter-house, Cambridge, and second Dean of Ely. He is incidentally mentioned by Miss Strickland as having changed his religion four times (Lives of the Queens of England, vol. vii., p. 208).]

“I must not omit mentioning an instance of the wonderful efficacy of the Sacraments as shown in the case of the married sister of my host. She had married a man of high rank, and being favourably inclined to the Church, she had been so well prepared by her brother, that it cost me but little labour to make her a child of the Catholic Church. After her conversion she endured much from her husband when he found that she refused to join in heretical worship, but her patience withstood and overcame all. It happened on one occasion that she was so exhausted after a difficult and dangerous labour, that her life was despaired of. A clever physician was at once brought from Cambridge, who on seeing her said that he could indeed give her medicine, but that he could give no hopes of her recovery; and having prescribed some remedies, he left. I was at that time on a visit to the house, having come, as was my wont, in company with her brother. The master of the house was glad to see us, although he well knew we were Catholics, and used in fact to confer with me on religious subjects. I had nearly convinced his understanding and judgment, but the will was rooted to the earth, ‘for he had great possessions.’ But being anxious for his wife, whom he dearly loved, he allowed his brother to persuade him, as there was no longer any hope for her present life, to allow her all freedom to prepare for the one to come. With his permission, then, we promised to bring in an old Priest on the following night: for those Priests who were ordained before Elizabeth's reign were not exposed to such dangers and penalties as the others. We therefore made use of his ministry, in order that this lady might receive all the rites of the Church. Having made her confession and been anointed with great devotion, she received the Holy Viaticum; and behold in half an hour's time she so far recovered, as to be wholly out of danger; the disease and its cause had vanished, and she had only to recover her strength. The husband seeing his wife thus snatched from the jaws of death, wished to know the reason. We told him that it was one of the effects of the holy Sacrament of Extreme Unction, that it restored bodily health when Divine Wisdom saw that it was expedient for the good of the soul. This was the cause of his conversion; for admiring the power and efficacy of the Sacraments of the true Church, he allowed himself to be persuaded to seek in that Church the health of his own soul. I, being eager to strike the iron while it was hot, began without delay to prepare him for confession; but not wishing just then that he should know me for a Priest, I said that I would instruct him as I had been instructed by Priests in my time. He prepared himself, and awaited the Priest's arrival. His brother-in-law told him that this must be at night time. So, having sent away the servants who used to attend him to his chamber, he went into the library, where I left him praying, telling him that I would return directly with the Priest. I went downstairs and put on my soutane, and returned so changed in appearance, that he, never dreaming of any such thing, was speechless with amazement. My friend and I showed him that our conduct was necessary, not so much in order to avoid danger, but in order to cheat the devil and to snatch souls from his clutches. He well knew, I said, that I could in no other way converse with him and his equals, and without conversation it was impossible to bring round those who were so ill-disposed. The same considerations served to dispel all anxieties as to the consequence of my sojourn under his roof. I appealed to his own experience, and reminded him, that though I had been in continual contact with him, he had not once suspected my priestly character. He thus became a Catholic; and his lady, grateful to God for this two-fold blessing, perseveres still in the Faith, and has endured much since that time from the hands of heretics.”

“Besides these, I reconciled to the Church, during the period of my appearance in public, more than twenty fathers and mothers of families, equal, and some even superior, in station to the above mentioned. For prudence sake I omit their names. As for poor persons and servants, I received a great many; the exact number I do not remember.” ...

“After some six or seven months, I received a visit from a Catholic gentleman of another county, a relative of one of my spiritual children, who was very desirous to make acquaintance with a Jesuit. He was a devout young man, and heir to a pretty considerable estate, one half of which came into his possession by his brother's death, the other portion being held for life by his mother, who was a good Catholic widow lady. Her son lived with her, and they kept a Priest in the house. He had then sold a portion of his estate, and devoted the proceeds to pious uses, for he was fervent and full of charity. After the lapse of a few days, as I saw his aspiration to a higher life and his desires of perfection wax stronger, I told him that there were certain spiritual exercises, by means of which a well-disposed person could discover a short road to perfection, and be best prepared to make choice of a state of life. He most earnestly begged to be allowed to make them. I acceded to his request, and he made great spiritual profit thereby, not only in that he made the best choice, which was that he would enter the Society of Jesus as soon as possible, but also because he made the best and most proper arrangements to carry his purpose into execution, and to preserve meanwhile his present fervour. After his retreat he expressed the greatest wish that I should come and live with him, and I had no rest until I promised to submit the matter to my Superior. For my own part, I could not but reflect that my present public mode of life, though in the beginning it had its advantages, could not be long continued, because the more people I knew and the more I was known to, the less became my safety, and the greater my distractions. Hence it was not without acknowledging God's special providence that I heard him make me this invitation. So, after having consulted with my Superior, and obtained his permission to accept the offer, I bade adieu to my old friends, and stationed a Priest where they might conveniently have recourse to his ministry. He still remains there, to the great profit of souls, though in the endurance of many perils.”

“In my new abode, I was able to live much more quietly and more to my taste, inasmuch as nearly all the members of the house were Catholics; and thus it was easier for me to conform to the manner of life of the Society, both as regards dress and the arrangement of my time.... While in this residence (and I was there all but two years) I gave much time to my studies. At times I made missionary excursions, and not only did I reconcile many, but I confirmed some Catholic families in the Faith, and placed two Priests in stations where they might be useful to souls.”

Amongst those to whom Father Gerard gave the Spiritual Exercises while in this residence, were two brothers of the name of Wiseman, who entered the Novitiate of St. Andrew at Rome “under the names of Starkie and Standish, which they assumed,” says Father Gerard, “as a remembrance of me; for under these I passed in the first and second county where I took up my residence.” The one died there, and the other at St. Omers, not long after. Their eldest brother was William Wiseman, of Braddocks, or Broadoaks, a family mansion[^26] which stands in the fields two miles from Wimbish Church, in Essex. “He had lately come to his estate on the death of his father, and had made himself a large deer park in it. There he lived like a little king, in ease and independence, surrounded by his children, to whom, as well as to his wife, he was tenderly attached. As he kept clear of Priests from the Seminaries, he lived unmolested, feeling nothing of the burden and heat of the day; for the persecutors troubled chiefly those who harboured the Seminarists, not caring to inquire after those who kept the old Priests, that is, those who had taken Orders before the reign of Elizabeth.... In his house there was living my host's mother, a most excellent widow lady, happy in her children, but still happier in her private virtues. She had four sons and four daughters. These latter, without exception, devoted their virginity to God. Two had already joined the holy Order of St. Bridget before my arrival,” Ann and Barbara;[^27] “and one of these,” Barbara, “is even at this day Abbess in Lisbon. I sent the two others,” Jane and Bridget “to Flanders, where they still serve God in the Order of St. Augustine at Louvain. Her sons were all pious young men; two,” Thomas and John, “died in the Society, as was related above; the third,” Robert, “chose the army, and was lately slain in a battle with the heretics in Belgium; he fell fighting when many around him had surrendered; the fourth,” William,[^28] who married Jane, daughter of Sir Edmund Huddleston, Knight, “was the master of that house, who to his mother's great joy, had given himself up to every good work.”

[^26: “It [Braddocks] seems to have been formerly moated round, and two sides of the moat remain at present” (Morant, History of Essex, London, 1768, vol ii., p. 559).]

[^27: Their names appear in 1580, among the signatures of the thirty Nuns of Sion, then at Rouen, in a petition to the Catholics of England, praying them not to allow “the only Religious Convent remaining of our country” to perish for want of support (Public Record Office, Domestic, Eliz., vol. 146, n. 114). The convent reached Lisbon in 1594, and in 1863 returned to England and settled at Spetisbury, near Blandford. It is the only Religious House in England that can trace an unbroken descent from a foundation made before the Reformation. Sion House was founded by Henry V. in 1413.]

[^28: William is said to have been knighted at a later date. Three baronetcies were conferred on various branches of the family, William of Canfield (1628), Richard of Thundersley (1628), and Sir William Wiseman, Knight, of Riverhall (1660). The two last mentioned are extinct. The Wisemans of Braddocks were descended from John Wiseman, Esq., ancestor of the present baronet, who purchased the estate in Northend about 1430, and was the first of the family who lived in Essex.]

Mrs. Wiseman, or “the Widow Wiseman,” as it seems more natural to call her, had a house of her own at Northend in the parish of Great Waltham, which had been in possession of the family since the time of Henry VI. On Father Gerard's recommendation she went to live there, and maintained a Priest, “in order that so noble a soul, and one so ready for all good deeds, might be a profit not only to herself but to many, as in fact she became. Her house was a retreat and no small protection both to ours and to other Priests.” This valiant Catholic woman and her brave son were in bad repute with the persecuting authorities, and the Public Record Office preserves many reports respecting them. In January, 1594, Justice Young writes to Lord Keeper Puckering,[^29] “Mrs. Jane Wiseman her house is the only resort for these wicked persons. She was at Wisbech with the Seminaries and Jesuits there, and she did repent that she had not gone bare-footed thither, and she is a great reliever of them, and she made a rich vestment and sent it them, as your Lordship doth remember as I think, when you and my Lord of Buckhurst sent to Wisbech to search, for that I had letters which did decypher all her doings.” She was condemned in 1598 to the peine forte et dure for refusing to plead when indicted for harbouring Father Jones, alias Buckley, the Franciscan martyr. “However, on account of her rank and the good name which she had, the Queen's councillors would not let such barbarity be practised in London. So they transferred her after her condemnation to a more loathsome prison, and kept her there. They wanted at the same time to seize her income for the Queen. Now if she had been dead, this income would not have gone to the Queen, but to the widow's son, my host. The godly woman therefore lived in this prison, reft of her goods but not of her life, of which she most desired to be reft. She pined in a narrow and filthy cell till the accession of King James, when, as is usual at the crowning of a new King, she received a pardon, and returned home; where she now serves the servants of God, and has two of ours with her in the house.”

[^29: P. R. O., Domestic, Eliz., vol. 247, n. 3.]

IV.

While Braddocks was his head-quarters, “I found time,” he says, “both for study and missionary excursions. I took care that all in the house should approach the Sacraments frequently, which none before, save the good widow, used to do oftener than four times a year. Now they come every week. On feast-days, and often on Sundays, I preached in the chapel; moreover, I showed those who had leisure the way to meditate by themselves, and taught all how to examine their conscience. I also brought in the custom of reading pious books, which we did even at meals, when there were no strangers there; for at that time we Priests sat with the rest, even with our gowns on. I had a soutane besides and a biretta, but the Superior would not have us use these except in the chapel.”

“In my excursions I almost always gained some to God. There is, however, a great difference to be observed between these counties where I then was, and other parts of England; for in some places, where many of the common people are Catholics, and almost all lean towards the Catholic faith, it is easy to bring many into the bosom of the Church, and to have many hearers together at a sermon. I myself have seen in Lancashire two hundred together at Mass and sermon; and as these easily come in, so also they easily scatter when the storm of persecution draws near, and come back again when the alarm has blown over. On the contrary, in those parts where I was now staying there were very few Catholics, but these were of the higher classes; scarcely any of the common people, for they cannot live in peace, surrounded as they are by most violent heretics. The way of managing in such cases, is first to gain the gentry, then the servants: for Catholic masters cannot do without Catholic servants.”

“About this time I gained to God and the Church my hostess' brother, the only son of a certain Knight,” Henry, son of Sir Edmund Huddleston, of Sawston.[^30] “I ever after found him a most faithful friend in all circumstances. He afterwards took to wife a relative[^31] in the third degree of the most illustrious Spanish Duke of Feria,” Dorothy, daughter of Robert first Lord Dormer, by his wife, Elizabeth Browne, daughter of Anthony first Viscount Montague. “This pious pair are so attached to our Priests, that now in these terrible times they always keep one in their house, and often two or three.” ...

[^30: “While the house at Sawston was erecting, Sir Edmund resided on his estates in Essex, and served the office of Sheriff for that county in 20, 21, [1578-9] and 30 Elizabeth” [1588] (Burke's Landed Gentry, 1850, vol. i., p. 602).]

[^31: The relationship is by affinity and half-blood. Jane, daughter of Sir William Dormer, by his first wife, Mary Sidney, married Don Gomez Suarez, Count of Feria; and Dorothy's father, Robert Lord Dormer, was a son of Sir William, by his second wife, Dorothy Catesby (Burke's Peerage).]

“Besides others of less standing whom my host's mother, in her great zeal for souls, brought me to be reconciled, she had nearly won over a certain great lady, a neighbour of hers. Though this lady was the wife of the richest[^32] lord in the whole county, and sister to the Earl of Essex (then most powerful with the Queen), and was wholly given to vanities, nevertheless she brought her so far as to be quite willing to speak with a Priest, if only he could come to her without being known. This the good widow told me. I consequently went to her house openly, and addressed her as though I had something to tell her from a certain great lady her kinswoman, for so it had been agreed. I dined openly with her and all the gentry in the house, and spent three hours at least in private talk with her. I first satisfied her in all the doubts which she laid before me about faith; next, I set myself to stir up her will, and before my departure I so wrought upon her, that she asked for instructions how to prepare herself for confession, and fixed a day for making it. Nay, she afterwards wrote to me earnestly protesting that she desired nothing in the world so much as to open to me the inmost recesses of her heart. But the judgments of God are a deep abyss, and it is a dreadful thing to expose oneself to the occasions of sin. Now there was a nobleman[^33] in London, who had loved her long and deeply; to him she disclosed her purpose by letter, perchance to bid him farewell; but she roused a sleeping adder. For he hastened to her, and began to dissuade her in every kind of way; and being himself a heretic, and not wanting in learning, he cunningly coaxed her to get him an answer to certain doubts of his from the same guide that she herself followed; saying that if he was satisfied in this, he too would become a Catholic. He implored her to take no step in the meantime, if she did not wish for his death. So he filled two sheets of paper about the Pope, the worship of Saints, and the like. She sent them with a letter of her own, begging me to be so good as to answer them, for it would be a great gain if such a soul could be won over. He did not, however, write from a wish to learn, but rather with the treacherous design of delaying her conversion. For he got an answer, a full one I think, to which he made no reply. But meanwhile he endeavoured to get her to London, and succeeded in making her first postpone, and afterwards altogether neglect her resolution. By all this, however, he was unwittingly bringing on his own ruin; for later on, returning from Ireland laden with glory, on account of his successful administration, and his victory over the Spanish forces that had landed there (on which occasion he brought over with him the Earl of Tyrone, who had been the most powerful opponent of heresy in that country, and most sturdy champion of the ancient faith), he was created an Earl, and though conqueror of others, he conquered not himself, but was kept a helpless captive by his love of this lady. This madness of his caused him to commit such extravagances that he became quite notorious, and was publicly disgraced. Unable to endure this dishonour, and yet unwilling to renounce the cause of it, he died of grief, invoking, alas! not God, but this goddess, ‘his angel,’ as he called her, and leaving her heiress of all his property. Such was his miserable end, in bad repute of all men. The lady, though now very rich, often afterwards began to think of her former resolution, and often spoke of me to a certain Catholic maid of honour that she had about her. This latter coming into Belgium about three years back to become a Nun, related this to me, and begged me to write to her and fan the yet unquenched spark into a flame. But when I was setting about the letter, I heard that she had been carried off by a fever, not, however, before she had been reconciled to the Church by one of ours. I have set this forth at some length, that the providence of God with regard to her whose conversion was hindered, and His judgment upon him who was the cause of the hindrance, may more clearly appear.”

[^32: Lady Penelope Devereux, daughter of Walter first Earl of Essex, wife of Robert third Lord Rich, afterwards Earl of Warwick.]

[^33: Charles Blount, eighth Baron Mountjoy, who in 1603 was created Earl of Devonshire. He was married December 26, 1605, to Lady Rich, after her divorce, and in the lifetime of her husband, by William Laud, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. The Earl of Devonshire died in a few months after this marriage, April 3, 1606.]

“I used also to make other missionary excursions at this time to more distant counties towards the north. On the way I had to pass through my native place, and through the midst of my kindred and acquaintance; but I could not do much good there, though there were many who professed themselves great friends of mine. I experienced in fact most fully the truth of that saying of Truth Himself, that no prophet is received in his own country; so that I felt little wish at any time to linger among them. It happened once that I went to lodge on one of those journeys with a Catholic kinsman.[^34] I found him in hunter's trim, ready to start for a grand hunt, for which many of his friends had met together. He asked me to go with him, and try to gain over a certain gentleman who had married a cousin of his and mine. I answered that some other occasion would be more fit. He disagreed with me, however, maintaining that unless I took this chance of going with him, I should not be able to get near the person in question. I went accordingly, and during the hunt joined company with him for whose soul I myself was on the hunt. The hounds being at fault from time to time, and ceasing to give tongue, while we were awaiting the renewal of this hunters' music, I took the opportunity of following my own chase, and gave tongue myself in good earnest. Thus, beginning to speak of the great pains that we took over chasing a poor animal, I brought the conversation to the necessity of seeking an everlasting kingdom, and the proper method of gaining it, to wit, by employing all manner of care and industry; as the devil on his part never sleeps, but hunts after our souls as hounds hunt after their prey. We said but little on disputed points of faith, for he was rather a schismatic than a heretic, but to move his will to act required a longer talk. This work was continued that day and the day after; and on the fourth day he was spiritually born and made a Catholic. He still remains one, and often supports Priests at home and sends them to other people.”

[^34: William Wiseman, Richard Fulwood, and Ralph Willis were with Father Gerard at Lady Gerard's house before Michaelmas, 1592 (P. R. O., Domestic, Eliz., vol. 248, n. 103).]

V.

“My journeys northwards were undertaken for the purpose of visiting, and strengthening in the faith, certain persons who there afforded no small aid to the common cause. Among them were two sisters of high nobility, daughters of an Earl of very old family who had laid down his life for the Catholic faith.[^35] They lived together, and manifested a great desire to have me not merely visit them sometimes, but rather stay altogether with them. The elder, who had a family, became a pillar of support to that portion of our afflicted Church. She kept two Priests with her at home, and received all who came to her with great charity. There are numbers of Priests in that part of the country, and many Catholics, mostly of the poorer sort. Indeed, I was hardly ever there without our counting before my departure six or seven Priests together in her house. Thus she gave great help to religion in the whole district during her abode there, which lasted till I was seized and thrown into prison; whereupon she was constrained by her husband to change her abode and go to London, a proceeding which did neither of them any good, and deprived the poor Catholics of many advantages. Her sister was chosen by God for Himself. I found her unmarried, humble and modest. Gradually she was fitted for something higher. She learnt the practice of meditation; and profited so well thereby, that the world soon grew vile in her eyes, and Heaven seemed the only thing worthy of her love. I afterwards sent her to Father Holt, in Belgium. He wrote to me on one occasion about her in these terms: ‘Never has there come into these parts a countrywoman of ours that has given such good example, or done such honour to our nation.’ She had the chief hand in the foundation of the present convent of English Benedictine Nuns at Brussels,[^36] where she still lives, and has arrived to a great pitch of virtue and self-denial. She yearns for a more retired life, and has often proposed to her director to allow her to live as a recluse, but gives in to his reasons to the contrary.”

[^35: Thomas Percy, Earl of Northumberland, was beheaded at York, in 1572. He had four daughters: Elizabeth, wife of Richard Woodroff; Lucy, wife of Sir Edward Stanley; Jane, wife of Lord Henry Seymour; and Mary, the second Abbess of the English Benedictine Convent at Brussels.]

[^36: This venerable Community was transferred in 1794 to Winchester, and in 1857 to East Bergholt, in Suffolk. This was the first English Convent founded after the Reformation, and the first to come to England at the French Revolution.]

“At first I used to carry with me on these journeys my altar furniture, which was meagre but decent, and so contrived that it could be easily carried, along with several other necessary articles, by him who acted as my servant. In this way I used to say Mass in the morning in every place where I lodged, not however before I had looked into every corner around, that there might be no one peering in through the chinks. I brought my own things mainly on account of certain Catholics, my entertainers, not having yet what was necessary for the Holy Sacrifice. But after some years this cause was removed; for in nearly every place that I came to they had got ready the sacred vestments beforehand. Moreover, I had so many friends to visit on the way, and these at such distances from one another, that it was hardly ever necessary for me to lodge at an inn on a journey of one hundred and fifty miles; and at last I hardly slept at an inn once in two years.”

“I used to visit my Superior,” Father Garnett, “several times a year, when I wished to consult him on matters of importance. Not only I, but all of us used to resort to him twice a year to give our half-yearly account of conscience and renew the offering of our vows to our Lord Jesus. I always remarked that the others drew great profit from this holy custom of our Society. As for myself, to speak my mind frankly, I never found anything do me more good, or stir up my courage more to fulfil all the duties which belong to our Institute, and are required of the workmen who till the Lord's vineyard in that country. Besides experiencing great spiritual joy from the renewal itself, I found my interior strength recruited, and a new zeal kindled within me afterwards in consequence; so that if I have not done any good, it must have come from my carelessness and thanklessness, and not from any fault of the Society, which afforded me such means and helps to perfection.”

“On one occasion we were all met together in the Superior's house while he yet resided in the country,” in Worcestershire, “and were employed in the renovation of spirit. We had had several conferences, and the Superior had given each of us some advice in private, when the question was started what we should do if the Priest-hunters suddenly came upon us, seeing that there were so many of us, and there were nothing like enough hiding-places for all. We numbered then, I think, nine or ten of ours, besides other Priests our friends, and some Catholics who would also have had to seek concealment. The blessed[^37] Father Garnett answered, ‘True, we ought not all to meet together now that our number is daily increasing; however, as we are here assembled for the greater glory of God, I will be answerable for all till the renovation is over, but beyond that I will not promise.’ Accordingly, on the very day of the renovation, though he had been quite unconcerned before, he earnestly warned every one to look to himself, and not to tarry without necessity, adding, ‘I do not guarantee your safety any longer.’ Some, hearing this, mounted their horses after dinner and rode off. Five of ours and two Secular Priests stayed behind.”

[^37: When this was written, the strict laws of Urban VIII. had not yet been made, which forbid the introduction of any public religious veneration except by the authority of the Holy See.]

“Next morning, about five o'clock, when Father Southwell was beginning Mass, and the others and myself were at meditation, I heard a bustle at the house door. Directly after I heard cries and oaths poured forth against the servant for refusing admittance. The fact was, that four Priest-hunters, or pursuivants as they are called, with drawn swords were trying to break down the door and force an entrance. The faithful servant withstood them, otherwise we should have been all made prisoners. But by this time Father Southwell had heard the uproar, and, guessing what it meant, had at once taken off his vestments and stripped the altar; while we strove to seek out everything belonging to us, so that there might be nothing found to betray the presence of a Priest. We did not even wish to leave boots and swords lying about, which would serve to show there had been many guests though none of them appeared. Hence many of us were anxious about our beds, which were still warm, and only covered, according to custom, previous to being made. Some, therefore, went and turned their beds, so that the colder part might deceive anybody who put his hand in to feel. Thus, while the enemy was shouting and bawling outside, and our servants were keeping the door, saying that the mistress of the house, a widow, had not yet got up, but that she was coming directly and would give them an answer, we profited by the delay to stow away ourselves and all our baggage in a cleverly-contrived hiding-place.”

“At last these four leopards were let in. They raged about the house, looking everywhere, and prying into the darkest corners with candles. They took four hours over the business; but failed in their search,[^38] and only brought out the forbearance of the Catholics in suffering, and their own spite and obstinacy in seeking. At last they took themselves off, after getting paid, forsooth, for their trouble. So pitiful is the lot of the Catholics, that those who come with a warrant to annoy them in this or in other way, have to be paid for so doing by the suffering party instead of by the authorities who send them, as though it were not enough to endure wrong, but they must also pay for their endurance of it. When they were gone, and were now some way off, so that there was no fear of their returning, as they sometimes do, a lady came and summoned out of the den, not one, but many Daniels. The hiding-place was underground, covered with water at the bottom, so that I was standing with my feet in water all the time. We had there Father Garnett, Father Southwell, and Father Ouldcorne (three future martyrs), Father Stanny, and myself, two Secular Priests, and two or three lay gentlemen. Having thus escaped that day's danger, Father Southwell and I set off the next day together, as we had come. Father Ouldcorne stayed, his dwelling or residence being” at Henlip House, “not far off.”

[^38: Defecerunt scrutantes scrutinio (MS.).]

VI.

But Father Gerard's good works were now to be interfered with by the treachery of a servant. This man's name was John Frank, and his deposition taken before Justice Young, May 12, 1594,[^39] will illustrate Father Gerard's story. The Father introduces the traitor without naming him.

[^39: P. R. O., Domestic, Eliz., vol. 248, n. 103.]

“There is a time for gathering stones together, and a time for scattering them. The time had now come for trying the servants of God, my hosts, and myself along with them. And that they might be more like in their sufferings to their Lord for Whom they suffered, God allowed them to be betrayed by their own servant, whom they loved. He was not a Catholic, nor a servant of the house, but had been once in the service of the second brother, who when he crossed the sea recommended him to his mother and brother. He lived in London, but often used to visit them, and knew nearly everything that happened in either of their houses. I had no reason for suspecting one whom all trusted. Still I never let him see me acting as a Priest, or dressed in such a way as to give him grounds to say that I was one. However, as he acknowledged afterwards, he guessed what I was from seeing his master treat me with such respect; for he nearly always set me two or three miles on my journeys. Often too my host would bear me company to London, where we used at that time to lodge in this servant's house. I had not yet found by experience, that the safest plan was to have a lodging of my own. Such were the facts which, as the traitor afterwards stated, gave rise to his suspicions. Feeling sure that he could get more than three hundred pieces of silver for the sale of his master, he went to the magistrates and bargained to betray him. They, it seems, sent him for a while to spy out who were Priests, and how many there were of them haunting the houses of the widow and her son.”

“The widow's house was first searched. The Priest that usually dwelt there was then at home, but escaped for that time by taking refuge in a hiding-place. As for the pious widow, they forced her to go to London, there to appear before the Judges who tried cases concerning Catholics. At her appearance she answered with the greatest courage, more like a free woman than a grievously persecuted prisoner. She was thrown into gaol.” From Frank we learn that the search was made Dec. 26, 1593.

“He saith that one Brewster, a Priest, being a tall man with a white flaxen beard, was at old Mrs. Wiseman's house at Northend from Michaelmas till Christmas last, and was in the house when the pursuivants were there on Wednesday the 26th of December last, hid in a privy place in a chamber. And William Suffield, Mr. William Wiseman's man, came thither for him on Thursday in the Christmas week, at five o'clock in the night, and carried him to Mr. William Wiseman's house at Braddocks (as this examinate heard). And afterwards Suffield came again and rode with old Mrs. Wiseman to the Lord Rich's.” The seat of Lord Rich was at Lee Priory, not far from Northend. The widow, therefore, was not arrested on this occasion.

Of the search, Justice Young made the following report to Lord Keeper Puckering.[^40] “Right honourable, my humble duty remembered, this is to advertize your honour that the bearers hereof, Mr. Worsley and Mr. Newall,” pursuivants who were Topcliffe's chief aiders in the searches made in the houses of Catholics, “hath been in Essex at Mrs. Wiseman's house, being a widow, and there they found a Mass a preparing, but the Priest escaped, but they brought from thence Robert Wiseman her son,[^41] and William Clarke, a lawyer, and Henry Cranedge, a physician, and Robert Foxe, who doth acknowledge themselves all to be recusants, and do deny to take an oath to answer truly to such matters as shall touch the Queen's Majesty and the State, whereupon I have committed them close prisoners, one from another. Also they found in the said house one Nicholas Norffooke, Samuel Savage, and one Daniell, servants unto the said Mrs. Wiseman, and one Mrs. Ann Wiseman, a widow, and Mary Wiseman her daughter, and Elizabeth Cranedge, and Alice Jenings, wife of Richard Jenings, and Mary Wiseman, daughter to Mr. George Wiseman, of Upminster, and is in Commission of the Peace, and all these in the said house are recusants; wherefore it may stand with your lordship's good liking, I think it were well that they were all sent for hither to be examined, for that, the said Mrs. Jane Wiseman——” and then follows the remembrance of old Mrs. Wiseman's wish that her pilgrimage to the Priests at Wisbech had been barefooted, that we have already given.

[^40: P. R. O., Domestic, Eliz., vol. 247, n. 3.]

[^41: ‘Robert Wiseman, her other son, is also an obstinate recusant and will by no means take the oath. He is prisoner in the Clink.’ (Young, Apr. 14, 1594. P. R. O., Dom. Eliz., vol. 248, n. 68).]

“Item, he saith,” to return to Frank's examination, “that Mr. Gerard, alias Tanfield, alias Staunton, the Priest Jesuit, was at Mr. William Wiseman's house at Braddocks all the Christmas last, and Richard Fulwood was his man attending on him, and was two years coming and going thither, and was also with Mr. Wiseman in Lancashire a little before Michaelmas was twelve months, as Ralph Willis, who then attended on Master Gerard, told this examinate, and were at the Lady Gerard's house, she being at home.”

“Item, he saith that he hath seen Mr. Gerard dine and sup ordinarily with Mr. Wiseman at his own table in his house at Braddocks about twelve months past, and that at Michaelmas was twelve months they were both together in the examinate's house,”—Father Gerard has just told us that they used to go there till he got a lodging of his own—“and Mr. Ormes, the tailor of Fleet-street, was there with him, and did take measure of Mr. Gerard by the name of Mr. Tanfield, to make him garments.”

“Item, he saith that the said Gerard lay one night at the Lady Mary's in Blackfriars (as he thinketh) a little before Easter last,[^42] and Ralph Willis, his servant, lay that night at this examinate's house, and that Richard Fulwood, since his imprisonment in Bridewell at Easter last, wrote a letter and sent it from Bridewell to the Lady Mary's, and there this examinate received it and went down with it to Mr. Gerard, who was at Mr. William Wiseman's house at Braddocks all the Easter last, and hidden in the house while the pursuivants were there, which letters aforesaid this examinate did deliver to Ralph Willis, who carried them immediately to Mr. Gerard. And this examinate saw the letters in Mr. Gerard's hands, and heard him read them. Wherein Fulwood wrote that he expected torture every day, and Mr. Gerard wished that he might bear some of Fulwood's punishment.” ...

[^42: The Lady Mary Percy, of whom mention has been previously made. She ‘was a devout Catholic, and had come to London a little before my imprisonment, to get my help in passing over to Belgium, there to consecrate herself to God. She was staying at the house of her sister,’ who had lost the faith, Jane, the wife of Lord Henry Seymour, with whose Protestant servants Father Gerard was confronted later on. ‘I dined with them on the day the witnesses mentioned. It was Lent; and they told how their mistress ate meat, while the Lady Mary and I ate nothing but fish’ (infr. p. lxviii.).]

“Item, he saith that the satin doublet and velvet hose which were found in Middleton's house at the apprehension of Mr. Gerard were Mr. Wiseman's, and the ruffs were Mrs. Wiseman's; and if they had not been taken, the apparel should have been carried by this examinate the next day to Mr. Wiseman in the Counter.”

“Item, he saith that about three weeks before Michaelmas last or thereabouts, this examinate was sent by old Mrs. Wiseman to Mr. Gerard, from Northend to London, with Scudamore, alias John Wiseman, the Priest,[^43] and a boy named Richard Cranishe, of the age of 16 years, son of Robert Cranishe, and afterwards Mrs. Jane Wiseman[^44] and Mrs. Bridget Wiseman, sisters to Mr. William Wiseman, came up also; and William Savage, tailor, servant to old Mrs. Wiseman, and Richard Fulwood, Mr. Gerard's man, attended on them, and John Jeppes came up at the same time; all of which persons (saving Jeppes) lay at this examinate's house a week. And then Scudamore, the two gentlewomen, Cranishe, Savage, and this examinate, embarked themselves at Gravesend in one Motte his bark, and went over to Middleborough, and there lay at one Charles his house about a fortnight, and then went to Antwerp, and this examinate returned back again, but whether Mr. William Wiseman did know of their going over or no he cannot tell.” ...

[^43: He had previously said that ‘between Midsummer and Michaelmas last, Scudamore the Priest was there by the name of John Wiseman and stayed there one night.’ John was apparently the name of the younger Jesuit, who died in the Novitiate at Rome.]

[^44: Amongst the letters seized at Braddocks in a search apparently in 1592, was one ‘sent by Dolman the Priest to Mrs. Wiseman, dated 28 die Jun., advertizing her of her son Thomas and her son John their healths, and of his going to Wisbech, and that he was sorry her daughter Jane had no warning whereby she might have wrote an epistle in Latin to the Priests at Wisbech, that they might have understood her zeal’ (P. R. O., Dom. Eliz., vol. 243, n. 95).]

“Item, he saith that Nicholas Owen, who was taken in bed with Mr. Gerard the Jesuit, was at Mr. Wiseman's house at Christmas was twelve months, and called by the name of Little John and Little Michael, and the cloak that he wore was Mr. Wiseman's cloak a year past, and was of sad green cloth with sleeves, caped with tawny velvet and little gold strips turning on the cape. And the said Owen was at Mr. Emerson's at Felsted while Mrs. Wiseman lay there.” ...

Such is Frank's examination, taken in May, 1594, and it will throw much light on the subsequent narrative. On the 14th of April, Justice Young sent to Lord Keeper Puckering[^45] “the names of them that were found in Mr. Wiseman's house: John Fulwood, Richard Fulwood, Richard Wallis, William Wallis, William Suffield, Ralph Williamson, John Stratforde. These men are all recusants, and will not take an oath to the Queen's Majesty, nor to answer to anything. One Thomas was apprehended when his master was taken, and he fled away with his master's best gelding and a handful of gold that his master gave him. All these were servants[^46] to Mr. William Wiseman, who is a continual receiver of all Seminary Priests, and went to Wisbech to visit the Priests and Jesuits there, and since his imprisonment there was a Seminary Priest in his house which escaped away from the Justices and pursuivants and left his apparel behind him.” This was, as we shall see, Father Gerard himself, and later on he was made to try on the clothes thus found, and “they were just a fit.” All this was to prove Mr. Wiseman guilty of harbouring a Priest, “which,” Father Gerard says, “they were never able to do.”

[^45: P. R. O., Dom. Eliz., vol. 248, n. 68.]

[^46: Young adds, ‘Mr. Wiseman and his mother had many more servants, both men and maids, all which were recusants, and none of them would come to church, to the great offence and scandal of all Her Majesty's good subjects in that country.’]

Father Garnett, in a letter[^47] to Father Persons at Rome, dated Sept. 6, 1594, thus describes the capture of the servants. “The Friday night before Passion Sunday” [March 15] “was such a hurly-burly in London as never was seen in man's memory; no, not when Wyatt was at the gates. A general search in all London, the Justices and chief citizens going in person; all unknown persons taken and put in churches till the next day. No Catholics found, but one poor tailor's house at Golding-lane end, which was esteemed such a booty as never was got since this Queen's days. The tailor and divers others there taken lie yet in prison, and some of them have been tortured. That mischance touched us near; they were our friends and chiefest instruments. That very night had been there Long John with the little beard, once your pupil” [in the margin is written John Gerard], “if I had not more importunately stayed him than ever before. But soon after he was apprehended, being betrayed we know not how; he will be stout I doubt not. He hath been very close, but now is removed from the Counter to the Clink, where he may in time do much good. He was glad of Mr. Homulus[^48] his company, but he had been taken from him and carried to Newgate, whence he hopeth to redeem him again.”

[^47: Stonyhurst MSS. P., ii., p. 550.]

[^48: Mr. ‘Homulus’ is Ralph Emerson, the Lay-brother, of whom Father Campion wrote to the General, ‘Homulus meus et ego’ (infr. p. lxx). It was of the greatest consequence that no names to strike the eye should appear in letters, in case they were intercepted.]

Father Gerard tells the story thus. “The hidden traitor, wholly unknown to his master, was watching his chance of giving us up without betraying his own treachery. At first he settled to have me seized in a house” in Golding-lane “which had been lately hired in London to answer my own and my friends' purposes. From his master's employing him in many affairs, he could not help knowing the place which his master had hired for my use. Consequently he promised the magistrates to tell them when I was coming, so that they might surround the house during the night with their officers, and cut off my escape. The plan would have succeeded, had not God provided otherwise through an act of obedience.”

“My Superior had lately come to live four or five miles from London.[^49] I had gone to see him, and had been with him a day or two, when, having business in London, I wrote to those who kept the house to expect me on such a night, and bring in certain friends whom I wanted to see. The traitor, who was now often seen in the house, which belonged ostensibly to his master, learnt the time, and got the Priest-hunters to come there at midnight with their band.”

[^49: Probably White Webbs in Enfield Chase, called ‘Dr. Hewick's house’ (P. R. O., Gunpowder Plot Book, n. 70).]

“Just before mounting my horse to depart, I went to take leave of my Superior. He would have me stay that night. I told him my business, and my wish to keep my appointment with my friends; but the blessed Father would not allow it, though, as he said afterwards, he knew no reason, nor was it his wont to act in this manner. Without doubt he was guided by the inspiration of God; for early next morning we heard that some Papists had been seized in that house, and the story ran that a Priest was among them. The fact was that my servant, Richard Fulwood, was caught trying to hide himself in a dark place, there being as yet no regular hiding-places, though I meant to make some. As he cut a good figure, and neither the traitor nor any one else that knew him was there, he was taken for a Priest. Three Catholics and one schismatic were seized and thrown into prison. The latter was a Catholic at heart, but did not refuse to go to the heretics' churches. As he was a trusty man, I employed him as keeper of the house, to manage any business in the neighbourhood. At their examination they all showed themselves steadfast and true, and answered nothing that could give the enemy any inkling that the house belonged to me instead of to my host. It was well that it was so; for things would have gone harder with the latter had it been otherwise. The magistrates sent him a special summons, in the hope that my arrest would enable them to make out a stronger case against him. As soon as he arrived in London he went straight to the house, never dreaming what had happened there, in order to treat with me as to the reason of his summons, and how he was to answer it. So he came and knocked at the door. It was opened to him at once; but, poor sheep of Christ, he fell into the clutches of wolves, instead of the arms of his shepherd and friend. For the house had been broken into the night before, and there were some ministers of Satan still lingering there, to watch for any Catholics that might come, before all got scent of the danger. Out came these men then; the good gentleman found himself ensnared, and was led prisoner to the magistrates. ‘How many Priests do you keep in your house?’ ‘Who are they?’ were the questions poured in upon him on all sides. He made answer, that harbouring Priests was a thing punishable with death, and so he had taken good care not to run such a risk. On their still pressing him, he said that he was ready to meet any accusation that could be brought against him on this head. However, they would not hint anything about me, because though disappointed this time, they still hoped to catch me later, as the traitor was as yet unsuspected.”

“My host had on hand a translation of a work of Father Jerome Platus, On the Happiness of a Religious State. He had just finished the second part, and had brought it with him to see me about it. When he was seized, these papers were seized too. Being asked what they were, he said it was a book of devotion. Now the heretics are wont to pry into any writings that they find, because they are afraid of anything being published against themselves and their false doctrine. Not having time to go on with the whole case, they were very earnest about his being answerable for those papers. He said that there was nothing contained in them against the State or against sound teaching; and offered on the spot to prove the goodness and holiness of everything that was there set down. In so doing, as he told me afterwards, he felt great comfort at having to answer for so good a book. He was thrown into prison, and kept in such close confinement that only one of his servants was allowed to go near him, and that was the traitor. Knowing that his master had no inkling of his bad faith, they hoped by his means to find out my retreat, and seize my person much sooner than they could otherwise have done.”

The following is Mr. Wiseman's examination, taken before Sir Edward Coke and others, in which will be found the defence of Father Jerome Platus, which Father Gerard so accurately remembered, and embodied in his Narrative.

“The examination[^50] of William Wiseman, of Wymbyshe, in the county of Essex, gentleman, taken the 19th day of March, in the thirty-sixth year of Her Majesty's reign [1594].”

[^50: P. R. O., Dom. Eliz., vol. 248, n. 36.]

“He saith that he hath the murrey” [mulberry-coloured] “beads (showed unto him upon his examination) of a gentlewoman and friend of his, and that he will not tell her name, for that she is a Catholic, as he termeth her, and saith that he hath had these beads about a year and a quarter, and received the same at Wymbyshe aforesaid, at his house there, called Broadoaks, and saith now, upon better advertisement, that his sister, Bridget Wiseman, now being beyond sea, did get the said beads and string the same for him, this examinate, but where she had them he cannot tell. Being demanded whether he knew a book (showed to him upon his examination) called Breviarium Romanum, he denieth that he knoweth the book or whose it is. He supposeth that a letter showed unto him upon his examination, beginning, ‘Dear son, this day,’ &c. &c., and ending with ‘Commendation to all my friends,’ is his mother's own handwriting, and sent unto him, this examinate, to his house aforesaid to-morrow shall be a seven-night.”

“And saith that a friend of his hath hired the house in Golding-lane, where he was apprehended, but denieth to tell his name for charity sake, but saith that his friend hired it of Mr. Tute, dwelling in the next house unto it, and saith that he hired it the last term. And saith that his friend did hire the said house for him, this examinate, and his mother, and saith that he never was at the house before, but came to the said house by such description as his friend made to him of it, and that this examinate came thither on Saturday at night to lie there, and his man (whose name he will not tell,[^51] is Richard Fulwood) provided him by his commandment and appointment a bed and furniture belonging to the same in the said house, and knoweth not whether the bedding was in the house before he, this examinate, hired the same house or no, but thinketh that some of the bedding that now is there was in the house before.”

[^51: In the original the words ‘is Richard Fulwood’ are interlined, and ‘he will not tell’ underlined or erased.]

“He saith that the said Richard Fulwood hath served him about Shrovetide last was two years.”

“And saith that since he, this examinate, was confined, he hath used John Fulwood, brother to the said Richard Fulwood, in travelling about his business.”

“And saith that his servant, Thomas Barker, after he was apprehended and under arrest, was sent by this examinate to his inn, to return to him again as he saith, and further saith that before the said Thomas Barker went off out of the constable's custody, he, this examinate, laid two angels in the headborough's hand, and to take them to his own use if his servant did not return again. He thinketh he is gone to this examinate's house and denieth that he gave any message to the said Thomas Barker, save only that he should signify to his housekeeper where he this examinate was, and saith that Thomas Barker hath dwelt with him above a year past, and was commended to him by a friend of his being a Catholic, and refuseth to tell his name; and saith that both his said servants have been recusants ever since they dwelt with him.”

“And confesseth that a book intituled Hieronymi Plati de Societate Jesu de bono statu religionis is his own, and that he caused the same to be bought at Cawood's shop in Paul's Churchyard, and saith that the book containeth nothing but true doctrine, and that he translated it through with his own hand—which was found and yet remaineth—the book; and that his servant Richard Fulwood bought the same, and hath had it or the like by the space of these two years and more, and saith that certain of his friends[^52] coming to him this examinate, he the said examinate commended the same book to them to be a good book, and delivered the same book to them, to be seen and read of, and saith within the said two years he this examinate bought divers of the said book and hath sent of the same to some of the examinate's friends, as namely to the Priests at Wisbech, that is to say, Father Edmonds, and to no other by name but to him, but generally to the Priests, which is about a year past: and that the said Father Edmonds returned thanks [in] answer to the examinate that he liked the book very well, and this book he sent and received answer by his said servant Thomas Barker, who was born in Norwich, and saith that this examinate hath read over the first and half the second of the said book unto the 12th chapter, and that he dare to take upon him to defend so much to be sound and true: and saith that this examinate was with Father Edmonds at Wisbech about Michaelmas last was twelve months, and there saw and spake with him both privately and in company.”

[^52: Being learned. Erased in Orig.]

“W. Wiseman.”

“Examined by”

“Edw. Coke”
“Will. Danyell.”
“Edw. Vaughan.”
“R. Watson.”
“Ryc. Young.”

VII.

“On learning the seizure of our house at London,” Father Gerard continues, “and my host's imprisonment, I went down to his country house to settle with his wife and friends what was to be done, and put all our effects in safe keeping. As we wanted the altar furniture for the approaching Easter, we sent very little of it to our friends. Of course I could not stay away from my entertainers at so holy a time, especially as they were in sorrow and trouble. In Holy Week the treacherous servant came from London with a letter from his master, wherein the latter set forth all that had befallen him, the questions that had been put to him, and his answers. This letter, though seen, had been let pass for the credit of the bearer, to give him a chance of seeing whether I was in the house at this solemn season. He brought me another letter from my servant, whose capture I spoke of above. When from the traitor's information they knew him to be my servant, hoping to wrest from him the disclosure of his friends and abettors, they kept him in solitary confinement in the loathsome prison of Bridewell. The purport of the letter was how he had denied everything,[^53] what threats had been held out to him, and what his sufferings were in prison. He had, he said, hardly enough black bread to keep him from starving; his abode was a narrow strongly-built cell, in which there was no bed, so that he had to sleep sitting on the window-sill, and was months without taking off his clothes. There was a little straw in the place, but it was so trodden down and swarming with vermin that he could not lie on it. But what was most intolerable to him was their leaving all that came from him in an open vessel in that narrow den, so that he was continually distressed and almost stifled by the smell. Besides all this, he was daily awaiting an examination by torture.”

[^53: It was of the last importance for the friends of a prisoner to know, if possible, what replies he had really given, not only that they might take measures, if necessary, for their own safety, but also that they might know how far to go in their own answers when summoned. The persecutors were constantly in the habit of publishing all sorts of pretended replies which they said had been given by prisoners in their secret examinations, so that prisoners seized every possible opportunity of communicating the truth to their friends, often, as we shall see, in the most ingenious way.]

“While reading the letter to my hostess in presence of the traitor, I chanced to say at this last part, ‘I wish I could bear some of his tortures, so that there might be less for him.’ It was these words of mine that let us know later on who was the traitor, and author of all our woes. For when I was taken and questioned, and declared I was quite unacquainted with the family, those who were examining me forgot their secret, and cried out, ‘What lies you tell!—did you not say so-and-so before such a lady, as you read your servant's letter?’ But I still denied it, giving them good reasons, however, why, even if it had been true, I could and ought to have denied it.[^54] But to take up the thread of my story.”

[^54: It will be noticed, both from this passage and many others, that the persecuted Catholics followed that common doctrine of theologians, maintained also by many Protestant moralists, that an unjust oppressor has no right, by the law of God, to exact or expect true answers from his victims, if such true answers would help his unjust designs, except where the question is of the faith of the prisoner. It is quite likely that many will be startled now-a-days at such direct denials, owing to our present freedom from those extreme circumstances in which such denials were then made. Their own lives were at stake, or those of other innocent persons, whom it would have been a sin to betray; and for those persons' sake, if they held such denials to be lawful, they were bound to make them. The English law, with a tenderness then unknown, would now protect a man from all efforts to make him criminate himself. The persecutors themselves, who showed so great indignation at their victims' falsehoods, told lies systematically in order to ensnare the Catholics; a thing which no code of morality ever countenanced, whether Catholic or Protestant. We propose to discuss this subject more fully in the sequel.]

“The traitor on his return to London informed our enemies of everything. Forthwith they sent two of their best messengers, or pursuivants as they call them, to two gentlemen of the county, who were Justices of the Peace, bidding them search the house carefully with their men. The traitor also returned on Easter Sunday, on pretence of bringing a fresh letter from London, but in reality to play into the hands of our enemies and acquaint them with our plans. On Easter Monday” [April 1, 1594], “on account of the dangers that threatened us, we rose before our usual hour, and were trying to get ready for Mass before sunrise, when suddenly we heard the noise of horses galloping, and of a multitude of men coming to surround the house and cut off all escape. Seeing what was going to happen, we had the doors kept fast. Meanwhile the ornaments were pulled off the altar, the hiding-places thrown open, my books and papers carried into them, and an effort was made to hide me and all my effects together. I wanted to get into a hiding-place near the dining-room, as well to be further from the chapel and the more suspicious part of the house, as because there was store of provisions there, to wit, a bottle of wine, and certain light but strengthening food, such as biscuit made to keep, &c. Moreover, I hoped to hear our enemies talk, wherein there might be something, perchance, which bore upon our interests. These reasons, then, moved me to choose that place, and, in sooth, it was very fit and safe for hiding in. But God so willed it, that the mistress of the house should in nowise agree. She would have me go into a place near the chapel, where the altar furniture could sooner be stowed with me. I yielded, though there was nothing there for me to eat in case the search should last long. I went in, then, after everything was safe that needed putting away.”

“Scarcely had I done so, when the searchers broke down the door, and forcing their way in, spread through the house with great noise and racket. Their first step was to lock up the mistress of the house in her own room with her maids; and the Catholic servants they kept locked up in divers places in the same part of the house. They then took to themselves the whole house, which was of a good size, and made a thorough search in every part, not forgetting even to look under the tiles of the roof. The darkest corners they examined with the help of candles. Finding nothing whatever, they began to break down certain places that they suspected. They measured the walls with long rods, so that if they did not tally, they might pierce the part not accounted for. Thus they sounded the walls and all the boards, to find out and break into any hollow places that there might be.”

“They spent two days in this work without finding anything. Thinking, therefore, that I had gone on Easter Sunday, the two magistrates went away on the second day, leaving the pursuivants to take the mistress of the house, and all her Catholic servants of both sexes, to London, to be examined and imprisoned. They meant to leave some who were not Catholics to keep the house, the traitor being one of them. The good lady was pleased at this, for she hoped that he would be the means of freeing me, and rescuing me from death: for she knew that I had made up my mind to suffer and die of starvation between two walls, rather than come forth and save my own life at the expense of others. In fact, during those four days that I lay hid, I had nothing to eat but a biscuit or two and a little quince jelly, which my hostess had at hand and gave me as I was going in. She did not look for any more, as she supposed that the search would not last beyond a day. But now that two days were gone, and she was to be carried off on the third with all her trusty servants, she began to be afraid of my dying of sheer hunger. She bethought herself then of the traitor, who she heard was to be left behind. He had made a great fuss and show of eagerness in withstanding the searchers, when they first forced their way in. For all that, she would not have let him know of the hiding-places, had she not been in such straits. Thinking it better, however, to rescue me from certain death, though it was at her own risk, she charged him, when she was taken away, and every one had gone, to go into a certain room, call me by my wonted name, and tell me that the others had been taken to prison, but that he was left to deliver me. I would then answer, she said, from behind the wainscot where I lay concealed.”

“The traitor promised to obey faithfully, but was faithful only to the faithless, for he unfolded the whole matter to the ruffians who had been left behind. No sooner had they heard it, than they called back the magistrates who had departed. These returned early in the morning, and renewed the search. They measured and sounded everywhere, much more carefully than before, especially in the chamber above mentioned, in order to find out some hollow place. But finding nothing whatever during the whole of the third day, they purposed on the morrow to strip off all the wainscot of that room. Meanwhile they set guards in all the rooms about, to watch all night lest I should escape. I heard from my hiding-place the pass-word which the captain of the band gave to his soldiers, and I might have got off by using it, were it not that they would have seen me issuing from my retreat: for there were two on guard in the chapel where I got into my hiding-place, and several also in the large wainscotted room which had been pointed out to them.”

“But mark the wonderful providence of God. Here was I in my hiding-place. The way I got into it was by taking up the floor, made of wood and bricks, under the fire-place. The place was so constructed that a fire could not be lit in it without damaging the house; though we made a point of keeping wood there, as if it were meant for a fire. Well, the men on the night-watch lit a fire in this very grate, and began chatting together close to it. Soon the bricks, which had not bricks but wood underneath them, got loose, and nearly fell out of their places, as the wood gave way. On noticing this and probing the bottom with a stick, they found that the bottom was made of wood; whereupon they remarked that this was something curious. I thought that they were going there and then to break open the place and enter; but they made up their minds at last to put off further examination till next day. Meanwhile, though nothing was further from my thoughts than any chance of escaping, I besought the Lord earnestly, that if it were for the glory of His Name, I might not be taken in that house, and so endanger my entertainers; nor in any other house, where others would share my disaster. My prayer was heard. I was preserved in that house in a wonderful manner; and when, a few days after, I was taken, it was without prejudice to any one, as shall be presently seen.”

“Next morning, therefore, they renewed the search most carefully, everywhere except in the top chamber which served as a chapel, and in which the two watchmen had made a fire over my head, and had noticed the strange make of the grate. God had blotted out of their memory all remembrance of the thing. Nay, none of the searchers entered the place the whole day, though it was the one that was most open to suspicion, and if they had entered, they would have found me without any search; rather, I should say, they would have seen me, for the fire had burnt a great hole in my hiding-place, and had I not got a little out of the way, the hot embers would have fallen on me. The searchers, forgetting or not caring about this room, busied themselves in ransacking the rooms below, in one of which I was said to be. In fact, they found the other hiding-place to which I thought of going, as I mentioned before. It was not far off, so I could hear their shouts of joy when they first found it. But after joy comes grief; and so it was with them. The only thing that they found, was a goodly store of provision laid up. Hence they may have thought that this was the place that the mistress of the house meant; in fact, an answer might have been given from it to the call of a person in the room mentioned by her.”

“They stuck to their purpose, however, of stripping off all the wainscot of the other large room. So they set a man to work near the ceiling, close to the place where I was: for the lower part of the walls was covered with tapestry, not with wainscot. So they stripped off the wainscot all round, till they came again to the very place where I lay, and there they lost heart and gave up the search. My hiding-place was in a thick wall of the chimney, behind a finely laid and carved mantel-piece. They could not well take the carving down without risk of breaking it. Broken, however, it would have been, and that into a thousand pieces, had they any conception that I could be concealed behind it. But knowing that there were two flues, they did not think that there could be room enough there for a man. Nay, before this, on the second day of the search, they had gone into the room above, and tried the fire-place through which I had got into my hole. They then got into the chimney by a ladder to sound with their hammers. One said to another in my hearing, ‘Might there not be a place here for a person to get down into the wall of the chimney below, by lifting up this hearth?’ ‘No,’ answered one of the pursuivants, whose voice I knew, ‘you could not get down that way into the chimney underneath, but there might easily be an entrance at the back of this chimney.’ So saying, he gave the place a kick. I was afraid that he would hear the hollow sound of the hole where I was. But God, Who set bounds to the sea, said also to their dogged obstinacy, ‘Thus far shalt thou go, and no further;’ and He spared His sorely-stricken children, and gave them not up into their persecutors' hands, nor allowed utter ruin to light upon them for their great charity towards me.”

“Seeing that their toil availed them naught, they thought that I had escaped somehow, and so they went away at the end of four days, leaving the mistress and her servants free. The yet unbetrayed traitor stayed after the searchers were gone. As soon as the doors of the house were made fast, the mistress came to call me, another four-days-buried Lazarus, from what would have been my tomb had the search continued a little longer. For I was all wasted and weakened, as well with hunger, as with want of sleep, and with having to sit so long in such a narrow place. The mistress of the house, too, had eaten nothing whatever during the whole time, not only to share my distress, and to try on herself how long I could live without food, but chiefly to draw down the mercy of God on me, herself, and her family, by this fasting and prayer. Indeed, her face was so changed when I came out, that she seemed quite another woman, and I should not have known her but for her voice and her dress. After coming out, I was seen by the traitor, whose treachery was still unknown to us. He did nothing then, not even send after the searchers, as he knew that I meant to be off before they could be recalled.”

VIII.

“As soon as I had taken a little refreshment and rest, I set out and went to a friend's house, where I kept still for a fortnight. Then knowing that I had left my friends in great distress, I proceeded to London to aid and comfort them. I got a safe lodging with a person of rank.[^55] A year ago it had been Father Southwell's abode, before his seizure and imprisonment in the Tower of London, where he now was. I wanted, however, to hire a house where I might be safe and unknown, and be free to treat with my friends; for I could not manage my business in a house that was not my own, especially in such a one as I then dwelt in. I had recourse to a servant of Father Garnett, named Little John,[^56] an excellent man and one well able to help me. He it was that used to make our hiding-places; in fact, he made the one to which I owed my safety. Thanks to his endeavours, I found a house well suited for my purpose, and settled with my landlord about the rent. Till the house was furnished, I hired a room in my landlord's own house.[^57] There I resolved to pass two or three nights in arranging my affairs, getting letters from my friends in distress, and writing back letters of comfort in return. Thus it was that the traitor got sent to the place, which was only known to a small circle of friends. It was God's will that my hour should then come.”

[^55: This was the unfortunate Countess of Arundel, whose husband, Philip Howard, Earl of Arundel, was at this time (1594) in the tenth year of his imprisonment in the Tower. He died the following year in the same prison, the noblest victim to the jealous and suspicious tyranny of Elizabeth, non sine veneni suspicione, as his epitaph still testifies.]

[^56: This holy martyr's true name was Nicholas Owen. Father Gerard gives an interesting account of him in the Narrative of the Powder Plot (infra p. 182).]

[^57: We learn from Frank that it was called Middleton's.]

“One night, when Little John and I had to sleep in that room, the traitor had to bring a letter that needed an answer, and he left with the answer about ten o'clock. I had only come in about nine, sorely against the will of the lady, my entertainer, who was uncommonly earnest that I should not leave her house that night. Away went the traitor then, and gave information to the Priest-hunters both when and where he had left me. They got together a band, and came at midnight to the house, just as I had gone to sleep. Little John and I were both awakened by the noise outside. I guessed what it was, and told John to hide the letter received that night in the ashes where the fire had been. No sooner had he done so and got into bed again, than the noise which we had heard before seemed to travel up to our room. Then some men began knocking at the chamber-door, ready to break it in if it was not opened at once. There was no exit except by the door where our foes were; so I bade John get up and open the door. The room was at once filled with men, armed with swords and staves; and many more stood outside, who were not able to enter. Among the rest stood two pursuivants, one of whom knew me well, so there was no chance of my passing unknown.”

“I got up and dressed, as I was bid. All my effects were searched, but without a single thing being found that could do harm to any man. My companion and I were then taken off to prison. By God's grace we did not feel distressed, nor did we show any token of fear. What I was most afraid of was, that they had seen me come out of that lady's house, and had tracked me to the room that I had hired; and so that the noble family that had harboured me would suffer on my account. But this fear was unfounded; for I learnt afterwards that the traitor had simply told them where he had left me, and there it was that they found me.”

“The pursuivant who knew me, kept me in his house two nights; either because those who were to examine me were hindered from doing so on the first day, or (as it struck me afterwards) because they wished first to examine my companion, Little John. I noticed the first night, that the room where I was locked up was not far from the ground; and that it would be easy to let myself down from the window by tearing up the bedclothes and making a rope of them. I should have done so that very night, had I not heard some one stirring in the next room. I thought that he was put there to watch me, and so it turned out. However, I meant to carry out my plan the night after, if the watchman went away; but my keeper forestalled me; for to save the expense of a guard, he put irons on my arms, which prevented me from bringing my hands together and from separating them. Then in truth I was more at ease in mind, though less in body; for the thought of escape vanished, and there came in its place a feeling of joy that I had been vouchsafed this suffering for the sake of Christ, and I thanked the Lord for it as well as I could.”

“Next day I was brought before the Commissioners, at the head of whom was one who is now Lord Chancellor of the realm.[^58] He had been a Catholic, but went over to the other side, for he loved the things of this world.”

[^58: Sir Thomas Egerton, afterwards Lord Ellesmere and Viscount Brackley, was Attorney General at this date, 1594, and Lord Chancellor in 1609, when this was written. His having been a Catholic is not mentioned by his biographers.]

“They first asked me my name and calling. I gave them the name I passed by; whereupon one called me by my true name, and said that I was a Jesuit. As I was aware that the pursuivant knew me, I answered that I would be frank and open in everything that belonged to myself, but would say nothing that could affect others. So I told them my name and calling, to wit that, though most unworthy, I was a Priest of the Society of Jesus.”

“‘Who sent you into England?’ they asked.”

“‘The Superiors of the Society.’”

“‘To what end?’”

“‘To bring back stray souls to their Creator.’”

“‘No, no,’ said they; ‘you were sent for matters of State; and to lure people from the obedience of the Queen to the obedience of the Pope.’”

“‘As for matters of State,’ I replied, ‘we are forbidden to have anything to say to them, as they do not belong to our Institute. This prohibition, indeed, extends to all the members of the Society; but on us Missioners it is particularly enjoined in a special instruction. As for the obedience due to the Queen and the Pope, each is to be obeyed in that wherein they have jurisdiction; and one obedience does not clash with the other, as England and all Christian realms have hitherto experienced.’”

“‘How long have you been doing duty as a Priest in this country?’”

“‘About six years.’”

“‘How, and where, did you land, and where have you lived since your landing?’”

“‘I cannot in conscience answer any of these questions,’ I replied, ‘especially the last, as it would bring mischief on others; so I crave pardon for not satisfying your wishes.’”

“‘Nay,’ said they, ‘it is just on these heads that we chiefly desire you to satisfy us, and we bid you in the Queen's name to do so.’”

“‘I honour the Queen,’ said I, ‘and will obey her and you in all that is lawful, but here you must hold me excused: for were I to mention any person or place where I have been lodged, the innocent would have to suffer, according to your laws, for the kind service they have done me. Such behaviour on my part would be against all justice and charity, and therefore I never will be guilty of it.’”

“‘You shall do so by force, if not by goodwill.’”

“‘I hope,’ I said, ‘by the grace of God, it shall not be as you say. I beg you, therefore, to take this my answer: that neither now nor at any other time will I disclose what you demand of me.’”

“Thereupon they wrote a warrant for my imprisonment, and gave it to the pursuivants, bidding them take me to prison. As we were leaving, he who is now Chancellor said that I must be kept in close confinement, as in cases of high treason. ‘But tell the gaolers,’ he added, ‘to treat him well on account of his birth.’ It seems, however, that the head gaoler gave orders at variance with this humane recommendation: for I was lodged in a garret,[^59] where there was nothing but a bed, and no room to stand up straight, except just where the bed was. There was one window always open, through which foul air entered and rain fell on to my bed. The room door was so low, that I had to enter, not on my feet, but on my knees, and even then I was forced to stoop. However, I reckoned this rather an advantage, inasmuch as it helped to keep out the stench (certainly no small one) that came from the privy close to my door, which was used by all the prisoners in that part of the house. I was often kept awake, or woke up, by the bad smell.”

[^59: Father Gerard was first confined in the Counter, as he tells us later. Father Garnett in one of his letters speaks of the Counter as ‘a very evil prison and without comfort.’ There were in London three prisons of this name: the Counter, a part of the parish church of St. Margaret in Southwark; the Counter in the Poultry, ‘some four houses west from the parish church of St. Mildred’; and the new Counter in Wood-street, removed from Bread-street in 1555 (Stow's Survey of London, ed. Thoms, pp. 99, 131).]

“In this place I passed two or three days of true repose. I felt no pain or anxiety of mind, and enjoyed, by the blessing of God, that peace which the world does not and cannot give.”

“On the third or fourth day, I was taken for a second examination to the house of a magistrate called Young. He it was who had the management of all the searches and persecutions that the Catholics in the neighbourhood of London had to endure; and it was to him that the traitor had given his information. Along with him was another, who had for many years conducted the examination by torture, Topcliffe by name. He was a man of cruelty, athirst for the blood of the Catholics, and so crafty and cunning, that all the wily wit of his companion seemed abashed into silence by his presence; in fact, the Justice spoke very little during the whole examination. I found the two of them alone: Young in a civilian's dress, Topcliffe with a sword by his side and in a Court dress. He was an old man, grown grey in wickedness. Young began questioning me as to my place of abode, and the Catholics that I knew. I answered that I neither could nor would make disclosures that would get any one into trouble, for reasons already stated. He turned then to Topcliffe and said, ‘I told you how you would find him.’”

“Topcliffe looked frowningly at me and said, ‘Do you know me? I am Topcliffe, of whom I doubt not you have often heard.’”

“He meant this to frighten me. To heighten the effect, he had laid his sword on the table near his hand, as though he were ready to use it on occasion. But he failed certainly, and caused me not the least alarm; and whereas I was wont to answer with deference on other occasions, this time I did quite the contrary, because I saw him making a show to scare me. Finding that he could get no other manner of reply from me than what I had given, he took a pen and wrote an artful and malicious form of examination.”

“‘Here,’ says he, ‘read this paper. I shall show it to the Privy Council, that they may see what a traitor you are to the realm, and how manifestly guilty.’”

“The contents of the paper were as follows: ‘The examinate was sent by the Pope and the Jesuit Persons, and coming through Belgium there had interviews with the Jesuit Holt and Sir William Stanley; thence he came into England, on a political errand, to beguile the Queen's subjects, and lure them from their obedience to their Sovereign. If, therefore, he will not disclose the places and persons with whom he has lived, it is presumed that he has done much mischief to the State,’ &c.”

“On reading this, I saw that I could not meet so many falsehoods with one single denial; and as I was desirous that he should show my way of answering to the Council, I said that I also wished to answer in writing. Hereat Topcliffe was overjoyed, and cried out, ‘Oh! now you are a reasonable man;’ but he was disappointed. He had hoped to catch me in my words, or at least to find out my handwriting, so that some of the papers found in the houses of the Catholics might be proved to be mine. I foresaw this, and therefore wrote in a feigned hand as follows: ‘I was sent by my Superiors. I never was in Belgium. I have not seen Father Holt since the time that I left Rome. I have not seen Sir William Stanley since he left England with the Earl of Leicester. I am forbidden to meddle with matters of State; I never have done, and never will do so. I have tried to bring back souls to the knowledge and love of their Creator, and to make them show obedience to the laws of God and man; and I hold this last point to be a matter of conscience. I humbly crave that my refusal to answer anything concerning the persons that I know, may not be set down to contempt of authority; seeing that God's commandment forces me to follow this course, and to act otherwise would be against justice and charity.’”

“While I was writing this, the old man waxed wroth. He shook with passion, and would fain have snatched the paper from me.”

“‘If you don't want me to write the truth,’ said I, ‘I'll not write at all.’”

“‘Nay,’ quoth he, ‘write so-and-so, and I'll copy out what you have written.’”

“‘I shall write what I please,’ I answered, ‘and not what you please. Show what I have written to the Council, for I shall add nothing but my name.’”

“This I signed so near the writing, that nothing could be put in between. The hot-tempered man, seeing himself disappointed, broke out into threats and blasphemies. ‘I'll get you put into my power, and hang you in the air, and show you no mercy; and then I shall see what God will rescue you out of my hands.’”

“From the abundance of his heart he poured forth these evil words; but by this he raised my hopes, just the opposite effect to what he wanted.[^60] Neither then nor since have I ever reckoned aught of a blasphemer; and, in sooth, I have found by experience, that God increases the confidence of His servants, when He allows strife to rise up against them. I gave, therefore, this short answer: ‘You will be able to do nothing without the leave of God, Who never abandons those that hope in Him. The will of God be done.’”

[^60: Even the gentle Father Southwell could not but show his estimate of this reprobate man. We translate the following from Father More's History of the English Province, l. v., n. 15. ‘Though he readily answered the questions of others, yet if Topcliffe interposed he never deigned him a reply; and when asked the cause of this, he answered: “Because I have found by experience that the man is not open to reason.”’]

“Thereupon Young called the gaoler who had brought me, to take me back to prison. As he was leading me off, Topcliffe addressed him and bade him put irons on my legs. Both then fell a-chiding him for having brought me by himself, fearing perchance lest I should escape from his hands. When I had crept back to my little closet, my legs were garnished according to order. The man seemed grieved that put the fetters on. For my part, instead of grief I felt very much joy, such is God's goodness to the most unworthy of His creatures. To pay the man for the kind turn that he had done me, I gave him some money for his job; and told him it was no punishment to suffer in so good a cause.”

Father Garnett described this act of faith and courage in the following terms in a letter to the General of the Society, which we translate from the Italian: “This Father has always been very courageous, and when he was first taken, and the gaoler put very heavy irons on his legs, he gave him some money. The following day, the gaoler, thinking that if he took off the irons doubtless he would give him more, took them off, but got nothing. After some days he came to put them on again, and received a reward, and then taking them off did not get a farthing. They went on playing thus with one another several times, but at last the gaoler, seeing that he did not give him anything for taking off his irons, left him for a long time in confinement, so that the great toe of one foot was for almost two years in great danger of mortification. So your Reverence sees that in these times the courage of true Christian soldiers is not wanting. May our Lord give him perseverance, and to those who follow him the grace to imitate him.”[^61]

[^61: Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. ii., n. 27; P., vol. ii., f. 604.]

IX.

“Here I stayed upwards of three months. During the first month I made from memory, as well as I could, the Spiritual Exercises; giving four and sometimes five hours a day to meditation. God lavished His goodness on me throughout, and I had proof that He opens His bounteous hands to His servants most of all when He has closed up the sources of earthly comfort to them.”

“When I was quietly lodged in prison, without being brought out or undergoing any further examination for many days, they examined and put to the torture Richard Fulwood, whom the traitor had pointed out as my servant, and Little John, who had been taken with me. Unable, either by coaxing or bribery, to draw anything from them that would compromise others, they had recourse to threats, and then to force: but the force of the Holy Ghost in them was too great to be overcome by men. They were both hung up for three hours together, having their arms fixed into iron rings, and their bodies hanging in the air; a torture which causes frightful pain and intolerable extension of the sinews. It was all to no purpose; no disclosure could be wrested from them that was hurtful to others; no rewards could entice, no threats or punishments force them, to discover where I or any of ours had been harboured, or to name any of our acquaintances or abettors.”

“Here I ought not to pass over in silence God's great goodness and mercy to me, the most unworthy of all His servants. It was shown in this, that there was not a single traitor, either among those that were then seized in my house or in the house of the good gentleman, my entertainer; no, nor even among those that, in the other persecutions which by God's providence afterwards befel me, were imprisoned, tortured, and treated with the utmost cruelty. Not one of them, I say, ever yielded, but all, by the grace of God, held steadfast through everything. Those who were my companions, or the servants I intrusted with commissions to the gentlemen of my acquaintance, as they necessarily knew all my friends, would have been able to do very great mischief, and enrich themselves by ruining others: yet not one of them ever caused any harm either by word or deed, wittingly or unwittingly; nor, as far as I remember, did they ever give one cause of complaint. On many of them God, in His goodness, poured the choicest gifts of His Holy Spirit.”

“John Lasnet, the first that I had, died in Spain a Lay-brother of the Society. The second that I had for some little while was Michael Walpole, who is now a Priest of the Society, and labouring in England. The third was named [Ralph] Willis. He had a vocation, so I sent him to study in the Seminary at Rhemes, where he went through his course of philosophy. His behaviour there was orderly, but afterwards at Rome he joined a turbulent party, thus returning evil for good. He was the only one of my helpmates that walked at all awry. He was, however, made Priest, and sent into England. There he was seized, and condemned to death for the Faith, and answered unflinchingly before the tribunal; but instead of losing his life, he was kept some time in prison; whence he effected his escape, and is still labouring in England.”

“After him I had a godly man of the name of John Sutton, the brother of three Priests, one of whom was a martyr, and another died in the Society. Father Garnett kept him in his house for many years, up to the time of his own arrest.”

“The next that I had was Richard Fulwood, of whom I have spoken above. He managed to make his escape, and during my imprisonment was employed by Father Garnett until that Father's happy death. He managed nearly all his master's business with strangers, not without the knowledge of the persecutors, who offered a handsome sum for his capture, and were still more anxious about it after Father Garnett was taken. In fact, they gave the poor man no peace until they drove him into banishment, where he yet remains, doing good service to our mission notwithstanding.”

“After him I had John Lilly, a man well known at Rome; he died lately in England, a Lay-brother of the Society. Next came two other godly men, whom I did not take to keep, but merely as makeshifts till I could get a man every way suited to my wants, and endowed with a religious spirit. I found one at length; and when I quitted England, I took him with me, and left him at St. Omers. There he was well grounded in Greek and Latin, and became a great favourite with all the Fathers, who sent him into Spain with the highest recommendations. He still remains there, growing always in virtue and learning. Not long ago I had a letter from the Father Prefect of Studies, in which he tells me that he is the best student in his course.”

“Such were the mercies of God vouchsafed to His unworthy servant, in answer to my constant prayers. Many gentlemen intrust themselves and their interests to our servants' good faith no less than to ours; so that there could be no greater let or hindrance to our good work, than any treachery on their part; indeed, the defection of such a one would be likely to cause the most frightful ruin among Catholics. For if one servant, and he neither a Catholic nor one of the household, like the traitor of whom I have spoken, made such havoc in his master's family, what mischief could a Priest's servant do to the many persons of high rank that had harboured him and his master! God has hitherto kept me free from the like betrayal.”

“To return to my story. They could wrest nothing out of Little John and Fulwood; and none of my host's Catholic servants would make any avowal, or own that he knew me. Seeing that they could bring no witness against him, they gradually lost the hope they had of seizing his chattels and revenue.”

“Sometimes they would bring me up for examination, when they had anything new against me. Once they called me to try on a suit of clothes, which had been found in my host's house, and which the traitor said were mine. I put them on, and they were just a fit, for the truth was that they had been made for me; however, I would not own them, nor admit them to be mine. Hereupon Young flew into a passion, called me a headstrong and unreasonable man. He was so barefaced as to add ‘How much more sensible is Southwell, who after long wilfulness is now ready to conform, and wishes to treat with some man of learning.’”

“‘Nay,’ I answered, ‘I will never believe that Father Southwell wishes to treat with any one from any wavering in his faith, or to learn what to believe from a heretic; but he might perchance challenge any heretic to dispute with him that dared, as Father Campion did, and as many others would do if you would let them, and appoint proper umpires.’”

“Then Young seized hold of the book, and kissing it, cried: ‘I swear upon this book that Southwell has offered to treat, with a view of embracing our religion.’”

“‘I do not believe he ever did so,’ said I.”

“‘What,’ said an officer of the Court, ‘do you not believe his oath?’”

“‘No,’ was my reply, ‘I neither can nor will believe him; for I have a better opinion of Father Southwell's firmness than of his truthfulness; since perhaps he thinks that he is allowed to make this statement to beguile me.’”

“‘No such thing,’ said Young; ‘but are you ready to conform if he has done so?’ (To conform, in their sense, means to embrace their deformed religion.)”

“‘Certainly not,’ I answered; ‘for if I keep myself free from heresy and heretical meetings, it is not because he or any man on earth does the same; but because to act otherwise would be to deny Christ, by denying His faith, which may be done by deed as well as by word. This is what our Lord forbade under pain of a heavier punishment than man can inflict, when He said, “He that shall deny Me before men, him will I deny before My Father Who is in Heaven.”’”

“To this the heretic answered not a word, save that I was stiff-necked (a name that was applicable rather to himself), and bade them take me back to prison.”

“Another time I was sent for to be confronted with three witnesses, servants of a certain nobleman named Lord Henry Seymour, son of the Duke of Somerset. They were heretics, and avouched that on a certain day I had dined with their mistress and her sister, while they, among others, waited at table. The two sisters were daughters of the Earl of Northumberland. One of them was a devout Catholic, and had come to London a little before my imprisonment to get my help in passing over to Belgium, there to consecrate herself to God. She was staying at the house of her sister, the wife of the aforesaid lord. She wanted to bring back this sister to the Catholic faith, which the latter had abandoned after her good father's death. I dined with them on the day the witnesses mentioned. It was in Lent; and they told how their mistress ate meat, while the Lady Mary and I ate nothing but fish. Young flung this charge in my teeth with an air of triumph, as though I could not help acknowledging it, and thereby disclosing some of my acquaintances. I answered that I did not know the men whom he had brought up.”

“‘But we know you,’ said they, ‘to be the same that was at such a place on such a day.’”

“‘You wrong your mistress,’ said I, ‘in saying so. I, however, will not so wrong her.’”

“‘What a barefaced fellow you are!’ exclaimed Young.”

“‘Doubtless,’ I answered, ‘were these men's statements true. As for me, I cannot in conscience speak positively in the matter, for reasons that I have often alleged; let them look to the truth and justice of what they say.’”

“Young then, in a rage, remanded me to prison.”

“After three months some of my friends made efforts to have me removed to another more comfortable prison, seeing that nothing could be proved against me except my Priesthood; and this they obtained by means of a handsome bribe to Young. So they sent to my prison, which was called the Counter, and took off my fetters. These were rusty when they were first put on; but by wearing and moving about in them every day, I had rendered them quite bright and shining. My cell was so small, that a man who had his legs free, might take the whole length of it in three steps. I used to shuffle from one end to the other, as well for exercise, as because the people underneath used to sing lewd songs and Geneva psalms; and I wanted to drown by the clanking of my chain a noise that struck still more harshly on my ear. My fetters then being removed, and my expenses paid (which were not great, as I had had little but butter and cheese to season my bread withal), they brought me before Young, who, making a show of anger, began to chide and upbraid me more than was his wont, and asked me whether I was yet willing to acknowledge where and with whom I had lived. I answered that I could not do so with a safe conscience, and therefore would not.”

“‘Well then,’ said he, ‘I will put you in closer confinement, where you shall be safer lodged, and have iron bars before your window.’”

“Forthwith he wrote a warrant, and sent me to the prison that is called the Clink.[^62] He made all this show, that he might not appear to have taken money for what he did. The fact was, that the prison to which I was now sent was far better than the other, and more comfortable for all prisoners; but to me it afforded especial comfort, on account of the great number of Catholics whom I found there.”

[^62: This was a prison in Southwark, adjoining the palace of the Bishops of Winchester. In Father More's Latin Narrative it appears as Atrium Wintoniense. ‘It was a small place of confinement on the Bankside, called the Clink from being the prison of the “Clink liberty or manor of Southwark,” belonging to the Bishops of Winchester’ (Brayley, History of Surrey, vol. 5, p. 348).]

“They could not now hinder me from approaching the Sacraments, and being comforted in divers other ways, as I shall afterwards show; for when I had been there a few months, the place was by God's grace so improved, that as for discharging all the duties of the Society, I should never wish to be at large in England, provided I could always live in the like prison and after the like fashion.[^63] So my being shut up in the Clink seemed like a change from Purgatory to Paradise. Instead of lewd songs and blasphemies, the prayers of some Catholic neighbours in the next room met my ear. They came to my door to cheer me up, and showed me a way by which we could open a free communication. This was through a hole in the wall, which they had covered with a picture, that it might not be seen. By means of it they gave me on the morrow a letter from my friends; and at the same time furnished me with materials for writing back. I wrote, therefore, to Father Garnett, and told him the whole truth of what had happened to me, and what manner of replies I had made, as I have set forth above.”

[^63: Father Garnett writes, Nov. 19, 1594: ‘Sir Thomas Wilks goeth into Flanders, as it is thought for peace; whereupon the arraignment of the three Jesuits, Southwell, Walpole, and Gerard, is stayed. Gerard is in the Clink, somewhat free; the other two so close in the Tower that none can hear from them’ (Stonyhurst MSS., P., ii., p. 550).]

“I also confessed, and received the Most Holy Body of Christ, through that same hole. But I had not to do this long, for the Catholics contrived to fashion a key that would open my door; and then every morning, before the gaoler got up, they brought me to another part of the prison, where I said Mass, and administered the Sacraments to the prisoners lodged in that quarter; for all of them had got keys of their cells.”

“I had just such neighbours as I would have picked out had I had my choice. My next-door neighbour was our Brother, Ralph Emerson, of whom Father Campion, in a letter to Father General, makes mention in these terms, ‘My little man and I.’ He was indeed small in body,[^64] but in steadfastness and endurance he was great. He had been already many long years in bonds, ever keeping godly and devout, like a man of the Society: and after my coming to the Clink, he remained six or seven years more. At last he was sent off, with other confessors of Christ, to the Castle of Wisbech, where he was attacked with palsy. One half of his body was powerless, so that he could not move about or do the least thing for himself. He lived, notwithstanding, to add by his patience fresh jewels to the crown that awaited him. Being driven into banishment with the same company, he came to St. Omers, and died a holy death there, to the great edification of the by-standers. I found this good Brother my next neighbour in the Clink; overhead I had John Lilly, whom God's providence had shut up there for his own good and mine. I had other godly men around me, all true to their faith.”

[^64: ‘There is a little fellow called Ralph, who is in England for Father Persons, is a great dealer for all the Papists; he is a very slender, brown little fellow’ (Confession of Ralph Miller. P. R. O., Domestic, Eliz., vol. 173, n. 64).]

“These having the free run of the prison, any one might visit them without danger. I arranged, therefore, that when any of my friends came to the prison, they should ask to see one of these; and thus they got to have talk with me without its being noticed. I did not, however, let them into my room, but spoke to them through the aforesaid hole.”

“So I passed some time in great comfort and repose; striving the while to gather fruit of souls, by letter and by word of mouth. My first gaoler was a sour-tempered man, who watched very closely to see that there were no unlawful doings amongst us. This called for great wariness on our part, to avoid discovery; but ere long God summoned him from the wardenship of the prison, and from the prison of his body at the same time.”

“His successor was a younger man of a milder turn. What with coaxing, and what with bribes, I got him not to look into our doings too nicely, and not to come when he was not called for, except at certain fixed times, at which he always found me ready to receive him.”

“I used the liberty thus granted me for my neighbour's profit. I began to hear many confessions, and reconciled many persons to the Catholic Church. Some of them were heretics, but the greater number were only schismatics, as I could deal more freely with these than with the others. It was only after long acquaintance, and on the recommendation of trusty friends, that I would let any heretics know how little restraint was put upon me. I do not remember above eight or ten converts from heresy, of whom four entered Religion. Two joined our Society, and the other two went into other Orders. As for schismatics, I brought back a goodly number of them to the bosom of the Church. Some became Religious: and others gave themselves to good works in England during the persecution. Of these last was Mr. John Rigby, afterwards martyred.”[^65]

[^65: John Rigby suffered at St. Thomas' Watering, June 21, 1600, for having been reconciled by a Catholic Priest.]

X.

“During my stay in this prison, I found means to give the Spiritual Exercises. The gaoler did as I wished him to do; he never came to me without being called, and never went into my neighbours' rooms at all. So we fitted an upper chamber to serve as a chapel, where six or seven made the Exercises, all of whom resolved to follow the counsels of Christ our Lord, and not one of them flinched from his purpose.”

“I found means also to provide for a very pressing need. Many Priests of my acquaintance, being unable to meet with safe lodgings when they came to London, used to put up at inns till they had settled the business that brought them. Again, as my abode was fixed, and easy to find, the greater part of the Priests that were sent from the Seminaries abroad had instructions to apply to me, that through me they might be introduced to their Superior, and might receive other assistance at my hands. Not having always places prepared, nor houses of Catholics to which I could send them, I rented a house and garden in a suitable spot, and furnished it, as far as was wanted, by the help of my friends. Thither I used to send those who brought letters of recommendation from our Fathers, and who I was assured led a holy life and seemed well fitted for the mission. I maintained them there till I had supplied them, through the aid of certain friends, with clothes and necessaries, sometimes even with a residence, or with a horse to go to their friends and kinsmen in the country. I covered all the expenses of this house with the alms that were bestowed on me. I did not receive alms from many persons, still less from all that came to see me; indeed, both out of prison and in prison, I often refused such offers. I was afraid that if I always accepted what was offered, I might scare from me souls that wished to treat with me on the business of their salvation; or receive gifts from those that could either ill afford it, or would afterwards repent of it. I made it a rule, therefore, never to take alms except from a small number of persons, whom I knew well. Most of what I got was from those devoted friends, who offered me not only their money but themselves, and looked upon it as a favour when I took their offer.”

“I gave charge of this house to a very godly and discreet matron of good birth, whom the Lord honoured with martyrdom.[^66] Her maiden name was Heigham, but she bore the name of Line from her deceased husband. Both she and her husband were beloved by God, and had much to suffer for His sake. This lady's father was a Protestant, and when he heard of his daughter's becoming a Catholic, he withheld the dower which he had promised her. He disinherited one of his sons for the same reason. This son, called William Heigham, is now in Spain, a Lay-brother of the Society. It is twenty-six years since I knew him. He was then a well-educated gentleman, finely dressed like other high-born Londoners. He supported a Priest named Thomson, whom I afterwards saw martyred. As soon as his father learned that he, too, had become a Catholic, he went and sold his estate, the rents of which were reckoned at 6,000 florins [600l.] yearly, that it might not pass to his son. The son was afterwards arrested for the Faith; and he and his Priest together, if I mistake not, were thrown into the prison of Bridewell, where vagrants are shut up and put to hard labour under the lash. I paid him a visit there, and found him toiling at the tread-mill, all covered with sweat. On recovering his freedom he hired himself out as a servant to a gentleman, that had to wife a Catholic lady whom I knew. She intrusted her son to his care: he taught the boy the ground-work of the Latin tongue, besides giving him lessons on the harp, which he himself touched admirably. I went to see him in this situation, and had a long talk with him about his call to his present state.”

[^66: Ann Line executed at Tyburn, Feb. 27, 1601, for harbouring a Catholic Priest. ‘She told her confessor, some years before her death, that Mr. Thomson (Blackburn), a former confessor of hers, who ended his days by martyrdom in 1586, had promised her, that if God should make him worthy of that glorious end he would pray for her, that she might obtain the like happiness’ (Challoner, from Champney's MS. History).]

“Mistress Line, his sister, married a good husband and a staunch Catholic. He had been heir to a fine estate; but his father or uncle (for he was heir to both) sent a message from his death-bed to young Line, then a prisoner for the Faith, asking him to conform and go to some heretical church for once; otherwise he would have to give up his inheritance to his younger brother. ‘If I must either give up God or the world,’ was his courageous answer, ‘I prefer to give up the world, for it is good to cleave unto God.’ So both his father's and his uncle's estate went to his younger brother. I saw this latter once in his elder brother's room, dressed in silk and other finery, while his brother had on plain and mean clothes. This good man afterwards went into Belgium, where he obtained a pension from the King of Spain, part of which he sent to his wife; and thus they lived a poor and holy life. His death, which happened in Belgium, left his widow friendless, so that she had to look to Providence for her support. Before my imprisonment she had been charitably taken by my entertainers into their own house. They furnished her with board and lodging, and I made up the rest.”

“She was just the sort of person that I wanted as head of the house that I have spoken of, to manage the money matters, take care of the guests, and meet the inquiries of strangers. She had good store of charity and wariness, and in great patience she possessed her soul. She was nearly always ill from one or other of many divers diseases, which purified her and made her ready for Heaven. She used often to say to me: ‘Though I desire above all things to die for Christ, I dare not hope to die by the hand of the executioner; but perhaps the Lord will let me be taken some time in the same house with a Priest, and then be thrown into a chill and filthy dungeon, where I shall not be able to last out long in this wretched life.’ Her delight was in the Lord, and the Lord granted her the desires of her heart.”

“When I was rescued out of prison, she gave up the management of my house; for then so many people knew who she was, that her being in a place was enough to render it unsafe for me. So a room was hired for her in another person's house, where she often used to harbour Priests. One day (it was the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin) she let in a great many Catholics to hear Mass, a thing which she would never have done in my house. Good soul, she was more careful of me than of herself. Some neighbours noticed the throng, and called the constables. They went upstairs into the room, which they found full of people. The celebrant was Father Francis Page, S.J., who was afterwards martyred.[^67] He had pulled off his vestments before the Priest-hunters came in; so that they could not readily make out which was the Priest. However, from the Father's grave and modest look, they thought that he must be their man. Accordingly, they laid hold of him, and began questioning him and the others also. No one would own that there was a Priest there; but as the altar had been found ready for Mass, they acknowledged that they had been waiting for a Priest to come. While the Catholics and their persecutors were wrangling on this point, Father Francis Page, taking advantage of some one's opening the door, got away from those that held him and slipped out, shutting the door behind him. He then went upstairs to a place that he knew, where Mrs. Line had had a hiding-place made, and there he ensconced himself. Search was made for him the whole house over, to no purpose.”

[^67: Francis Page, S.J., suffered at Tyburn, April 20, 1602, for his Priesthood.]

“So they took Mrs. Line and the richer ones of the party to prison, and let the others go on bail. God lengthened out the martyr's life beyond her expectation. It was some months before she was brought to trial, on a charge of harbouring and supporting Priests. To the question of ‘guilty or not guilty,’ she made no direct answer, but cried out in a loud voice, so that all could hear her: ‘My lords, nothing grieves me, but that I could not receive a thousand more.’[^68] She listened to the sentence of death with great show of joy and thanksgiving to the Lord God. She was so weak, that she had to be carried to Court in a chair, and sat there during the whole of the trial. After her return to prison, a little before her death, she wrote to Father Page, who had escaped. The letter is in my hands at present. She disposed therein of the few things that she had, leaving to me a fine large cross of gold that had belonged to her husband. She mentioned me thrice in the letter, calling me her Father. She also left some few debts which she begged me to see paid. Afterwards she bequeathed me her bed by word of mouth. I wanted to purchase it from the gaolers, who had plundered everything found in her cell after her death; but I could only get the coverlet, which I used ever after during my stay in London, and reckoned it no small safeguard.”

[^68: These words are given in the MS. in English.]

“Being arrived at the place of punishment, some preachers wanted to tease her, as usual, with warnings to abandon her errors; but she cut them short, saying, ‘Away! I have no dealings nor communion with you.’ Then, kissing the gallows with great joy, she knelt down to pray, and kept on praying till the hangman had done his duty. So she gave up her soul to God, along with the martyr Father Filcock, S.J.,[^69] who had often been her confessor, and had always been her friend. Her martyrdom, however, happened six or seven years after the time of which I am now speaking. She managed my house for three years, and received therein many holy Priests.”

[^69: Roger Filcock, S.J., alias Arthur, executed for his Priesthood, with Mark Barkworth, alias Lambert, O.S.B., and Ann Line, at Tyburn, Feb. 27, 1601.]

“I always had a Priest residing in this house, whom I used to send to assist and console my friends, as I was unable, during my imprisonment, to visit them myself. The first I had there was Father Jones, a Franciscan Recollect, afterwards martyred,[^70] but then newly arrived in England.... After him I received another Priest, lately arrived from Spain, and formerly known to me, Robert Drury by name. He was of gentle birth and well educated, and could consequently associate with gentlemen without causing any suspicion. I introduced him, therefore, to my chief friends; and he assisted them well and zealously for two years and more that he tarried in my house. This good Priest also God chose to be His witness and martyr....”

[^70: John Jones, alias Buckley, suffered at St. Thomas' Watering, July 12, 1598; and Robert Drury at Tyburn, Feb. 26, 1607, for being Priests in England.]

“In that house of mine, while I was in prison, there lived awhile one of our Fathers, who was in ill health, Father John Curry. There also he died, and there he lies buried in some secret corner. For those Priests who live secretly on the mission, we are obliged also to bury secretly when they die.”

“All this while my good host, who had been taken a little before me, was kept imprisoned; and for the first four months so straitly, that neither his wife nor any of his friends were allowed to have any access to him. After this, however, the persecutors, seeing that they could not produce any proof against him, because none of the Catholic servants would acknowledge anything and the traitor had never seen me in Priest's guise, and was only one witness after all, by degrees relaxed a little of their harshness, and permitted him to be visited and cared for, though they still kept him in strict custody.”

“While thus close shut up, he wrote a work by no means contemptible, which he divided into three parts, and called ‘Three Farewells to the world, or three deaths in different states of soul.’[^71] In the first book he described a man of moral life, and virtuous in the opinion of men, but directing himself in all things by his own lights.... In the second book he described a good and pious lady, who at first wished to be guided in everything, but subsequently, deceived by the devil, determined in some things to follow her own ideas.... In the third book he described the death of a pious and devoted man, who, though living in the world and possessed of riches, yet always sought and followed the counsels of his spiritual Father, manifesting himself entirely for the purpose of being directed by him to the greater glory of God.” ...

[^71: Tres valedictiones mundo datæ a tribus in diverso statu morientibus (MS.).]

“It was written, not with ink, but merely with pencil, upon loose scraps of paper, for at that time he was kept so close that he could get no ink. As he finished each of the three parts, he sent it to me, that I might correct anything I might find against sound doctrine. He gave as a reason for writing the work, that he had himself found, as he thought, so immense a benefit from giving himself thoroughly to the direction of his spiritual guide, and had felt in consequence so undisturbed a peace of mind, even when the malice of the persecutors was daily threatening him with death, that he could not refrain from recommending the same course to others whom he loved. He said, moreover, that he wrote the book, not for the public, but principally for his own family, and secondly for his relations and friends; for that, as he could not communicate with them by word of mouth, he desired to show them in writing the most secure and meritorious way to perfection while living in the world. For he endeavoured to prove that perfection was even more necessary for those who lived in the world than for Religious.”

“Such were the sentiments of this good man. He noways regretted that he had during four years given himself up to my direction, though he found himself in consequence exposed to such extreme distresses, and saw his family and fortune made a mark for the persecutors as a result of having harboured me. Nay, it was not only that he bore all these trials patiently, but he really thought it all joy to suffer thus for the good cause. His wife, also, though she loved her husband most tenderly, and was of a peculiarly sensitive mind, yet in this juncture bore everything with a singular sweetness and patience. After I was transferred to the Clink, where there was more chance of communicating with me either by word or letter, she took a house in the immediate neighbourhood of my prison, in order that she might consult me constantly, and provide me with everything I needed. In this house she and her husband, who obtained his release after a time by large payments of money, resided while I remained in that prison. But after my escape from the Tower, they betook themselves back to their country seat, in order that they might have me with them there again.”

XI.

“In the meantime, I was so fully taken up in the prison with business, and with the visits of Catholics, that in the next room, which was Brother Emerson's, there were often six or eight persons at once, waiting their turn to see me. Nay, many of my most intimate and attached friends have oft-times had to wait many hours at a stretch, and even then I have been obliged to ask them to come another time....”

“While I remained in this prison, I sent over numbers of boys and young men to Catholic Seminaries abroad. Some of these are, at this present, Priests of the Society, and engaged on the English mission: others still remain in the Seminaries, in positions of authority, to assist in training labourers for the same field. On one occasion I had sent two boys on their way to St. Omers, and had given them letters of recommendation, written with lemon-juice, so that the writing was not visible on the paper. In the paper itself I wrapped up a few collars, so that it might seem that its only use was to keep the collars clean. The boys were taken, and on being questioned, confessed that I had sent them. They let it out also that I had given them this letter, and had told them, when they came to a certain College of ours, on their way to St. Omers (for they had to pass by Ostend, which is not the usual way, and thus they came to be taken), to bid the Fathers steep the paper in water, and they would be able to read what I had written. On this information, then, the paper was steeped by the authorities, and two letters of mine were read, written on the same paper. One was written in Latin to our Belgian Fathers; this I had consequently signed with my own proper name. The other was addressed to our English Fathers at St. Omers. The letters having been thus discovered, I was sent for to be examined.”

“Young, however, was no longer to be my examiner. He had died in his sins, and that most miserably. As he lived, so he died:[^72] he lived the devil's confessor, he died the devil's martyr; for not only did he die in the devil's service, but he brought on his death through that very service. He was accustomed to work night and day to increase the distress of the Catholics, and to go forth frequently in inclement weather, at one or two o'clock in the morning, to search their houses. By these labours he fell into a consumption,[^73] of which he died. He died, moreover, overwhelmed with debt, so that it might be clear that he abandoned all things for the devil's service. Notwithstanding all the emoluments of his office, all the plunder he took from the persecuted Catholics, and the large bribes they were constantly giving him to buy off his malicious oppression, his debts were said to amount to no less a sum than a hundred thousand florins [10,000l.]; and I have heard even a larger sum mentioned than this. Perhaps he expected the Queen would pay his debts; but she did nothing of the sort. All she did was once to send a gentleman from Court to visit him, when he was confined to his bed, and near death; and this mark of favour so delighted him, that he seemed ready to sing Nunc dimittis. But it was a false peace, and the lifting up of the soul that goes before a fall; and like another Aman, he was bidden not to a banquet, but to execution, and that for ever. So with his mouth full of the Queen's praises, and his great obligations to Her Majesty, he died a miserable death, and anguish took the place of his joy. The joy of the hypocrite is but for an instant.”

[^72: Qualis vita, finis ita (MS.).]

[^73: ‘Morbum regium’ (MS.). Consumption is a form of scrofula, or King's evil, and seems to be the form most likely to be brought on by the causes here mentioned. In classical Latin, however, morbus regius signifies jaundice; and this may be the meaning here.]

“This man's successor in the office of persecuting and harassing the servants of God, was William Wade, now Governor of the Tower of London, but at that time Secretary to the Lords of the Council. For the members of the Council choose always to have a man in their service to whose cruelty anything particularly odious may be attributed, instead of its being supposed to be done by their warrant. This Wade then sent for me, and first of all showed me the blank paper that I had given to the boys, and asked me if I recognized it. I answered, ‘No, I did not.’ And in fact I did not recognize it, for I did not know the boys had been taken. Then he dipped the paper in a basin of water, and showed me the writing, and my name subscribed in full. When I saw it, I said: ‘I do not acknowledge the writing. Any one may easily have counterfeited my handwriting and forged my signature; and if such boys as you speak of have been taken, they may perhaps in their terror say anything that their examiners want them to say, to their own prejudice and that of their friends; a thing I will never do. At the same time, I do not deny that it would be a good deed to send such boys abroad to be better educated; and I would gladly do it if I had the means; but closely confined as I am in prison, I cannot do anything of the kind, though I should like to do it.’”

“He replied to me with a torrent of abuse for denying my signature and handwriting, and said: ‘In truth, you have far too much liberty; but you shall not enjoy it long.’ Then he rated the gaoler soundly for letting me have so much liberty.”

I was sent for on two or three other occasions, to be examined; and whenever I came out of this prison, I always wore a Jesuit's cassock and cloak,[^74] which I had had made as soon as I came among Catholic fellow-prisoners. The sight of this dress raised mocks from the boys in the streets, and put my persecutors in a rage. On the first occasion, they said I was a hypocrite. I replied: “When I was arrested, you called me a courtier, and said that I had dressed myself in that fashion in order to disguise my real character, and to be able to deal with persons of rank in safety, and without being recognized. I told you then, that I did not like a layman's dress, and would much rather wear my own. Well, now I am doing so; and you are in a rage again. In fact, you are not satisfied with either piping or mourning, but you seek excuses for inveighing against me.”

[^74: Father Bartoli, in his Inghilterra (bk. v., ch. 13), has the following passage about Father Gerard, whom he knew personally at Rome: “At his first entrance into this prison (the Clink) he procured himself a habit of the Society, and continued to wear it from that time forward, even in the face of all London when he was being taken to his different examinations; so that the people crowded to see a Jesuit in his habit, while the preachers were all the more exasperated at what they thought an open defiance of them.”

Father Weston in his Narrative (Father Laurenson's copy, p. 93) gives it as one of the signs that warned Catholics that Anthony Tyrrel was wavering in his faith, that without any necessity, in the Clink prison, he would wear secular dress. His own clerical costume in prison he mentions as a matter of course. “Egressus sum sequenti die, mutato habitu in sæcularem” (p. 98).]

“To this they answered: ‘Why did you not go about in this dress before, instead of wearing a disguise, and taking a false name? A thing no good man would do.’”

“I replied: ‘I am aware you would like us not to do so, in order that we might be arrested at once, and not be able to do any good in the work of rescuing and gaining souls. But do you not know that St. Raphael personated another, and took another name, in order that, not being known, he might better accomplish God's work for which he had been sent?’”

“At another time I was examined before the Dean of Westminster, the dignitary who has taken the place of the former Abbot of the great royal monastery there. Topcliffe and some other Commissioners were present. Their object was to confront me with the good widow, my host's mother, of whom I have before spoken, and who was confined at this time in a prison[^75] near the church at Westminster, for she was not yet condemned to death; that happened later. They wanted to see if she recognized me. So when I came into the room where they brought me, I found her already there. When she saw me coming in with the gaolers, she almost jumped for joy; but she controlled herself, and said to them: ‘Is that the person you spoke of? I do not know him; but he looks like a Priest.’”

[^75: The Gatehouse prison, near the west end of the Abbey, ‘is so called of two gates, the one out of the College court towards the north, on the east side whereof was the Bishop of London's prison for clerks convict; and the other gate, adjoining the first, but towards the west, is a gaol or prison for offenders thither committed’ (Stow, p. 176).]

“Upon this she made me a very low reverence, and I bowed in return. Then they asked me if I did not recognize her?”

“I answered: ‘I do not recognize her. At the same time, you know this is my usual way of answering, and I will never mention any places, or give the names of any persons that are known to me (which this lady, however, is not); because to do so, as I have told you before, would be contrary both to justice and charity.’”

“Then Topcliffe said: ‘Tell the truth; have you reconciled any persons to the Church of Rome?’”

“I quite understood his bloodthirsty intention, that being a thing expressly prohibited under penalty of high treason; but then I knew I was already as much compromised on account of my Priesthood, and therefore I answered boldly: ‘Yes, in truth, I have received some persons, and am sorry that I have not done this good service to more.’”

“‘Well,’ said Topcliffe, ‘how many would you like to have reconciled, if you could? A thousand?’”

“‘Certainly,’ I said, ‘a hundred thousand, and many more still, if I could.’”

“‘That would be enough,’ said Topcliffe, ‘to levy an army against the Queen.’”

“‘Those whom I reconciled,’ said I, ‘would not be against the Queen, but all for her; for we hold that obedience to superiors is of obligation.’”

“‘No such thing,’ said Topcliffe, ‘you teach rebellion. See, I have here a Bull of the Pope, granted to Sanders[^76] when he went to Ireland to stir up the Queen's subjects to rebellion. See, here it is. Read it.’”

[^76: The celebrated theologian and controversialist, Dr. Sanders, was sent as Papal Legate into Ireland by Gregory XIII. in 1579.]

“I answered: ‘There is no need to read it. It is likely enough that the Pontiff, if he sent him, gave him authority. But I have no power to meddle at all in such matters. We are forbidden to have anything to do with such things. I never have, and never will.’”

“‘Take and read it,’ he said; ‘I will have you read it.’”

“So I took it, and seeing the name of Jesus on the top, I reverently kissed it.”

“‘What,’ said Topcliffe, ‘you kiss a Bull of the Pope, do you?’”

“‘I kissed,’ said I, ‘the name of Jesus, to which all love and honour are due. But if it is a Bull of the Pope, as you say, I reverence it also on that score.’”

“And so saying, I kissed the printed paper again. Then Topcliffe, in a furious passion, began to abuse me in indecent terms.... At this insolence, to own the truth, I somewhat lost command of myself; and though I knew that he had no grounds which seemed probable even to himself for what he said, but had uttered it from pure malice, I exclaimed: ‘I call the Great and Blessed God to witness, that all your insinuations are false.’”

“And, as I spoke, I laid my hand on the book that was open before me on the table. It was a copy of the Holy Bible, but according to their corrupt translation into the vulgar tongue. Then Topcliffe held his peace; but the Dean took up the word. ‘Are you willing,’ said he, ‘to be sworn on our Bible?’ The better instructed Catholics, who can show the dishonesty of that translation, usually refuse this.”

“I replied: ‘In truth, under the necessity of rebutting this man's false charges at once, I did not take notice what version this was. However, there are some truths, as, for instance, the Incarnation and Passion of Christ, that have not been corrupted by mistranslation; and by these I call the truth of God to witness. There are many other things falsely rendered, so as to involve heresies; and these I detest and anathematize.’”

“So saying, I laid my hand again upon the book, and more firmly than before. The old man was angry and said: ‘I will prove that you are a heretic.’”

“I replied: ‘You cannot prove it.’”

“‘I will prove it,’ he said, ‘thus: Whoever denies Holy Scripture is a heretic; you deny this to be Holy Scripture: Ergo.’”

“I replied: ‘This is no true syllogism; it shifts from general to particular, and so has four terms.’”

“The old man answered: ‘I could make syllogisms before you were born.’”

“‘Very likely,’ I said; ‘but the one you have just produced is not a true one.’”

“However, the good old man[^77] would not try a new middle term, and made no further attempt to prove me a heretic. But one urged one thing, and another another, not in the way of argument, but after their usual plan, asking me such questions as they knew very well I did not like to answer; and then, in the end, they sent me back to prison.”

[^77: Gabriel Goodman, Dean of Westminster from 1561 to 1601.]

XII.

“On another occasion they examined me, and all the other Catholics that were confined in the same prison with me, in a public place called Guildhall, where Topcliffe and several other Commissioners were present. When they had put their usual questions, and received from me the usual answers, they came to the point, intending, I imagine, to sound us all as to our feelings towards the State, or else to entrap us in some expressions about the State that might be made matter of accusation. They asked me, then, whether I acknowledged the Queen as the true Governor and Queen of England.”

“I answered: ‘I do acknowledge her as such.’”

“‘What,’ said Topcliffe, ‘in spite of Pius V.'s excommunication?’”

“I answered: ‘I acknowledge her as our Queen, notwithstanding I know there is such an excommunication.’”

“The fact was, I knew that the operation of that excommunication had been suspended for all in England by a declaration of the Pontiff, till such time as its execution became possible.”

“Topcliffe proceeded: ‘What would you do in case the Pope sent an army into England, asserting that the object was solely to bring back the kingdom to the Catholic religion, and protesting that there was no other way left of introducing the Catholic faith, and, moreover, commanding all in virtue of his Apostolical authority to aid his cause? Whose side would you then take, the Pope's or the Queen's?’”

“I saw the malicious man's cunning, and that his aim was, that whichever way I answered I might injure myself, either in soul or body; and so I worded my reply thus: ‘I am a true Catholic, and a true subject of the Queen. If, then, this were to happen, which is unlikely, and which I think will never be the case, I would act as became a true Catholic and a true subject.’”

“‘Nay, nay,’ said he; ‘answer positively and to the point.’”

“‘I have declared my mind,’ said I, ‘and no other answer will I make.’”

“On this he flew into a most violent rage, and vomited out a torrent of curses; and ended by saying: ‘You think you will creep to kiss the Cross this year; but before the time comes, I will take good care you do no such thing.’”

“He meant to intimate, in the abundance of his charity, that he would take care I should go to Heaven by the rope before that time. But he had not been admitted into the secrets of God's sanctuary, and did not know my great unworthiness. Though God had permitted him to execute his malice on others, whom the Divine Wisdom knew to be worthy and well prepared, as on Father Southwell and others, whom he pursued to the death, yet no such great mercy of God came to me from his anger. Others indeed, for whom a kingdom was prepared by the Father, were advanced to Heaven by our Lord Jesus through his means; but this heavenly gift was too great for an angry man to be allowed to bestow on me. However, he was really in some sort a prophet in uttering these words, though he meant them differently from the sense in which they were fulfilled.”

“What I have mentioned happened about Christmas. In the following Lent, he himself was thrown into prison for disrespect to the members of the Queen's Council, on an occasion, if I mistake not, when he had pleaded too boldly in behalf of his only son, who had killed a man with his sword in the great hall of the Court of Queen's Bench. This took place about Passion Sunday. We, then, who were in prison for the Faith, seeing our enemy, Aman, about to be hanged on his own gibbet, began to lift up our heads, and to use what liberty we had a little more freely, and we admitted a greater number to the Sacraments, and to assist at the services and holy rites of the Church. Thus it was that on Good Friday a large number of us were together in the room over mine, in fact, all the Catholics in the prison, and a number of others from without. I had gone through all the service, and said all the prayers appointed for the day, up to the point where the Priest has to lay aside his shoes. I had put them off, and had knelt down, and was about to creep towards the Cross and make the triple adoration of it; when, lo! just as I had moved two paces, the head gaoler came and knocked at the door of my room underneath, and as I did not answer from within, he began to batter violently at the door and make a great noise. As soon as I heard it, I knew that the chief gaoler was there, because no other would have ventured to behave in that way to me: so I sent some one to say that I would come directly, and then, instead of going on with the adoration of the material Cross, I hastened to the spiritual cross that God presented to me, and taking off the sacred vestments that I was wearing, I went down with speed, for fear the gaoler might come up after me, and find a number of others, who would thus have been brought into trouble. When he saw me, he said in a loud tone of voice: ‘How comes it that I find you out of your room, when you ought to be kept strictly confined to it?’”

“As I knew the nature of the man, I pretended, in reply, to be angry, that one who professed to be a friend should have come at such a time as that, when, if ever, we were bound to be busy at our prayers.”

“‘What,’ said he, ‘you were at Mass, were you? I will go and see.’”

“‘No such thing,’ I said; ‘you seem to know very little of our ways. There is not a single Mass said to-day throughout the whole Church. Go up if you like; but understand that, if you do, neither I nor any one of the Catholics will ever pay anything for our rooms. You may put us all, if you like, in the common prison of the poor who do not pay. But you will be no gainer by that; whereas, if you act in a friendly way with us, and do not come upon us unawares in this manner, you will not find us ungrateful, as you have not found us hitherto.’”

“He softened down a little at this; and then I said: ‘What have you come for now, I pray.’”

“‘Surely,’ said he, ‘to greet you from Master Topcliffe.’”

“‘From him?’ I said; ‘and how is it that he and I are such great friends? Is he not in such a prison? He cannot do anything against me just now, I fancy.’”

“‘No,’ said the gaoler, ‘he cannot. But he really sends to greet you. When I visited him to-day, he asked me how you were. I replied that you were very well. “But he does not bear his imprisonment,” said Master Topcliffe, “as patiently as I do mine. I would have you greet him, then, in my name, and tell him what I have said.” So I have come now for the purpose of repeating his message to you.’”

“‘Very well,’ I replied. ‘Now tell him from me, that by the grace of God I willingly bear my imprisonment for the cause of the Faith, and I could wish his cause were the same.’”

“Thereupon the gaoler went away, rating his servant, however, for not having kept me more closely confined. And thus Topcliffe really accomplished what he had promised, having checked me in the very act of adoration, although without thinking of what he said, and with another intent at the time. Thus was Saul among the prophets. However, he did not prevent my going up again and completing what I had begun.”

“The man who had charge of my room would not do anything in our rooms without my leave. And after my first gaoler, who soon died, the others who succeeded were well disposed to oblige me. One of them, who had the gaolership by inheritance, I made a Catholic. He immediately gave up his post and sold the right of succession, and became the attendant of a Catholic gentleman, a friend of mine, and afterwards accompanied his son to Italy, and got a vocation to the Religious state. At present he is a prisoner in the very prison where he had been my gaoler. The next who had the charge of me after him, being a married man with children, was kept by fear of poverty from becoming a Catholic; but yet he was afterwards so attached to myself and all our friends, that he received us into his own house, and sometimes concealed there such Catholics as were more sorely pressed than others by the persecution. And when I was to be got out of the Tower of London, with serious risk to all who aided the enterprise, he himself in person was one of the three who exposed themselves to such great danger. And although he was nearly drowned the first night of the attempt, he rowed the boat the next night as before, as I shall hereafter relate. For not long after what I just now mentioned, I was removed from that prison to the Tower of London; the occasion of which was the following.”

XIII.

“There was in the prison with me a certain Priest,[^78] to whom I had done many good services. When he first came to England, I had lodged him in an excellent house with some of my best friends; I had made Catholics of his mother and only brother; I had secured him a number of friends when he was thrown into prison, and had made him considerable presents. I had always shown him affection, although, perceiving that he was not firm and steady in spirit, but rather hankered too much after freedom, I did not deal confidently with him, as with others in the prison, especially Brother Emerson and John Lilly. Nevertheless, this good man, from some motive or other, procured my removal; whether in the desire and expectation that, if I were gone, all whom he saw come to me would thenceforth come to him, or in order to curry favour with our enemies, and obtain liberty or some such boon for himself, is not certain. Be that as it may, he reported to our enemies that he was standing by when I handed a packet of letters dated from Rome and Brussels to a servant of Father Garnett's, of the name of Little John, about whom I have before spoken. This latter, after having been arrested in my company, as I have related, and subjected to various examinations, but without disclosing anything, had been released for a sum of money which some Catholic gentlemen had paid. For his services were indispensable to them and many others, as he was a first-rate hand at contriving Priests' hiding-places. The Priest then reported that I had given this man letters, and that I was in the habit of receiving letters from beyond the sea addressed both to my Superior and to myself.”

[^78: William Atkinson, the apostate Priest, in a letter to Blackwell the Archpriest, dated Apr. 9, 1602, said that he was in prison with Father Gerard (Bartoli, Inghilterra, p. 416). This man dared to offer to poison the Earl of Tyrone in a host (P. R. O., Domestic, Eliz., vol. 251, n. 49).]

“Acting on this information, the persecutors sent a Justice of the Peace to me one day, with two Queen's messengers, or pursuivants as they call them. These came up to my room on a sudden with the head gaoler; but by God's providence they found no one with me at the time except two boys, whom I was instructing with intention to send them abroad; one of whom, if I remember right, escaped, the other they imprisoned for a time. But they found nothing else in my room that I was afraid of being seen; for I was accustomed to keep all my manuscripts and other articles of importance in some holes made to hide things. All these holes were known to Brother Emerson; and so after my removal he took out everything, and among the rest a reliquary that I have with me now, and a store of money that I had in hand for the expenses of my house in town, of which I have before spoken, to the amount of thirteen hundred florins [130l.]. This money he sent to my Superior, who took charge of the house from that time till I was got out of prison.”

“When these officials came in they began to question me; and when the examination was over, which it soon was, as they could get nothing from me of what they wanted to know, they began to search the room all over, to find letters or something else, that might serve their turn and injure me. While the Justice of the Peace was rummaging my books, one of the pursuivants searched my person, and opening my doublet, he discovered my hairshirt. At first he did not know what it was, and said: ‘What is this?’”

“‘A shirt,’ I replied.”

“‘Ho, ho!’ said he, ‘it is a hairshirt.’ And he caught hold of it, and wanted to drag it off my body by force.”

“This insolence of the varlet, to confess my imperfection honestly, excited me more than anything that I have ever had to endure from my enemies, and I was within a little of thrusting him violently back; but I checked myself by God's grace, and claimed the Justice's protection, who immediately made him give over. So they sought, but found nothing in my room that they sought for except myself; and me they took at once, and went straight to the Tower of London with me, and there handed me to the Governor, whose title is King's Lieutenant. He was a Knight of the name of Barkley. He conducted me at once to a large high tower of three stories, with a separate lock-up place in each, one of a number of different towers contained within the whole inclosure. He left me for the night in the lowest part, and committed the custody of my person to a servant in whom he placed great confidence. The servant brought a little straw at once, and throwing it down on the ground, went away, fastening the door of my prison, and securing the upper door both with a great bolt and with iron bars. I recommended myself therefore to God, Who is wont to go down with His people into the pit, and Who never abandoned me in my bondage, as well as to the most Blessed Virgin, the Mother of Mercy, and to my Patron Saints and Guardian Angel; and after prayer I lay down with a calm mind on the straw, and slept very well that night.”

“The next day I examined the place, for there was some light, though dim; and I found the name of Father Henry Walpole, of blessed memory,[^79] cut with a knife on the wall, and not far from there I found his oratory, which was a space where there had been a narrow window, now blocked up with stones. There he had written on either side with chalk the names of the different choirs of Angels, and on the top, above the Cherubim and Seraphim, the name of Mary Mother of God, and over that the name of Jesus, and over that again, in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, the name of GOD. It was truly a great consolation to me to find myself in this place, hallowed by the presence of so great and so devoted a martyr, the place, too, in which he was frequently tortured, to the number, as I have heard, of fourteen times. Probably they were unwilling to torture him in public and in the ordinary place, because they did it oftener than they would have it known. And I can well believe that he was racked that number of times, for he lost through it the proper use of his fingers. This I can vouch for from the following circumstance. He was carried back to York, to be executed in the place where he was taken on his first landing in England, and while in prison there he had a discussion with some ministers which he wrote out with his own hand.[^80] A part of this writing was given to me, together with some meditations on the Passion of Christ, which he had written in prison before his own passion. These writings, however, I could scarcely read at all, not because they were written hastily, but because the hand of the writer could not form the letters. It seemed more like the first attempts of a child, than the handwriting of a scholar and a gentleman, such as he was. Yet he used to be at Court before the death of Father Campion, in whose honour he also wrote some beautiful verses in the English tongue, declaring that he and many others had received the warmth of life from that blessed martyr's blood,[^81] and had been animated by it to follow the more perfect counsels of Christ.”

[^79: Henry Walpole, S.J., was executed at York, April 7, 1595, for his Priesthood.]

[^80: It was Father Walpole's custom to make notes of his conferences with ministers. In the Public Record Office (Domestic, Eliz., vol. 248., n. 51) there is an interesting record in his own hand of his discussions while he was in the custody of Outlaw, the pursuivant.]

[^81: Edmund Campion, S.J., suffered at Tyburn, Dec. 1, 1581, for a pretended conspiracy at Rome and Rhemes. The Act of 27 Elizabeth (1585), which made the mere presence of a Priest in England high treason, had not yet been passed.]

“When, therefore, I found myself in Father Walpole's cell I rejoiced exceedingly thereat; but I was not worthy to be the successor of such a man in his place of suffering. For on the day following my gaoler, either because he thought to do me a favour, or in consequence of his master's orders, brought me into the upper room, which was sufficiently large and commodious for a prisoner. I told him that I preferred to stay in the lower dungeon, and mentioned the reason, but as he showed himself opposed to this, I asked him to allow me sometimes to go there and pray. This he promised me, and in fact frequently permitted. Then he inquired of me if he could go for me anywhere to any friends of mine who would be willing to send me a bed. For it is the custom in this prison that a bed should not be provided, but that a prisoner should provide himself a bed and other furniture, which afterwards goes to the Lieutenant of the Tower, even though the prisoner should be liberated. I replied that I had no friends to whom I could send, except such as I left in the prison from which I had been brought;[^82] these, perhaps, if he would call there, would give me a plain bed by way of alms. The gaoler therefore went to the Catholics detained in the Clink, who immediately sent me a bed such as they knew I wished for; that is, a mattrass stuffed with wool and feathers after the Italian fashion. They sent also a cloak and some linen for me; and asked him always to come there for anything I wanted, and promised to give money or anything else, provided he brought a note signed by me of things I needed. They also gave him money at that time for himself, and besought him to treat me kindly.”

[^82: This was said, of course, because it was dangerous to mention the names of any friends who were still at liberty. It could do no harm to mention those already in prison.]

XIV.

“On the third day, immediately after dinner, came my gaoler to me, and with sorrowful mien told me the Lords Commissioners had come, and with them the Queen's Attorney General, and that I must go down to them.”

“‘I am ready,’ I replied. ‘I only ask you to allow me to say a Pater and Ave in the lower dungeon.’”

“This he allowed; and then we went together to the house of the Lieutenant, which was within the Tower walls. There I found five men, none of whom had before examined me except Wade, who was there for the purpose of accusing me on all points.”

“The Queen's Attorney General then took a sheet of paper, and began to write a solemn form of juridical examination.”

The examination of Father Gerard on this occasion is preserved in the Public Record Office.[^83] The Commissioners were Sir Richard Barkley, Lieutenant of the Tower, Sir Edward Coke, then Attorney General, Thomas Fleming, a Privy Councillor, Sir Francis Bacon, afterwards Lord Chancellor, and William Wade, or Waad, afterwards Lieutenant of the Tower.

[^83: Domestic, Eliz., vol. 262, n. 123.]

“The examination of John Gerard, Priest, taken this 14th day of April, 1597.”

“Being demanded whether he received any letters from the parts beyond the seas or no, confesseth that within these four or five days he received[^84] from Antwerp (as he supposeth) letters inclosed and sealed up. But how many letters were inclosed therein he knoweth not, and saith that the said letters were directed to him by the name of Standish; and being demanded from whom those letters were sent,[^85] saith that he knoweth not from whom the same were sent, and denieth that he read them or that he knoweth the contents of the same, and at the first he said that he burnt them, but afterwards retracted that and confesseth that he sent them over to whom the same appertained, but[^86] refuseth to declare to whom the same were delivered over, and refuseth also to declare who brought the same to him, or by whom he conveyed them over. He confesseth that he received within this year past other letters from the parts beyond the seas, and two or three of them he confesseth he did read, and saith that those letters contained matter concerning maintenance of scholars beyond sea, but refuseth to declare who sent those letters or by whom the same were brought, and saith that some of those letters were sent from St. Omers; and two or three other letters which he received from the parts beyond the seas he conveyed over to some other within this realm, but denieth that he knew the contents of those letters, and refuseth to tell who sent or brought the same or to whom the same were conveyed, but saith that the same were sent over to him to whom the said last letters which he received were conveyed unto. And being demanded whether he sent not those letters to Garnett, his Superior, saith that he will name no name; but saith that those letters came to him because he had more opportunity to receive them and to convey them over. And confesseth that the party to whom he sent those letters is a Priest, and being demanded how it is possible that he should know to whom the said last letters appertained, considering that he saith that he neither knoweth from whom the same were sent, nor knoweth the contents of the same, especially the said letters being directed to himself by the name of Standish, saith that he[^87] thinketh that some within this realm have greater[^88] care and authority to provide for such scholars as be beyond sea than he, and saith that he sent those last letters as he had done other to that person, taking the same to contain no other matter but only concerning[^89] maintenance of scholars and such as be sent from hence for the like matters. And being demanded whether he opened not the outermost sealed of those last letters, confesseth that he did; and being also demanded to whom the letters within inclosed were directed, saith that he remembereth not[^90] the name, but saith that he thinketh it was to the said former person, and saith that there was nothing written within the outermost paper, and thinketh, that there were two letters within that which he conveyed over. And saith that the letters within were not directed as the outermost was, but saith that he remembereth not[^91] by what name the same were directed.”

[^84: As he supposed. Erased.]

[^85: Denieth that. Erased.]

[^86: Denieth that. Erased.]

[^87: Thinketh that some substituted for knoweth who.]

[^88: Care substituted for charge.]

[^89: Maintenance of, &c, interlined.]

[^90: The name ... person interlined in place of to whom.]

[^91: By what name substituted for to whom.]

“I refuse not for any disloyal mind, I protest as I look to be saved, but for that I take these things not to have concerned any matter of State, with which I would not have dealt, nor any other but matters of devotion as before.”

“And being demanded whether this subscription is his usual manner of writing, saith that he useth the same in his subscriptions to his examinations, and saith that the cause thereof is that he would bring no man to trouble and that he will not acknowledge his own hand, and saith that he never wrote any letter to any man in this hand, saving once to Mr. Topcliffe. And being demanded what was the cause that moved him to have escaped out of prison of late, saith that the cause was that he might have more opportunity to have won souls. And being demanded who procured the counterfeit keys for him, by means whereof he should have escaped, refuseth to tell who it was, for that, as he saith, he will not discover anything against any other that may bring them to trouble.”

“John Gerard.[^92]”

[^92: The spelling in those days was simply reckless. Father Gerard signs this Examination ‘Jhon Gerrard;’ it is endorsed ‘Jo. Jerrard;’ and Sir Edward Coke's note on it is ‘Jarrard.’ It becomes difficult to know how to print proper names; e.g., Campion or Campian, Persons or Parsons, Garnet or Garnett, Ouldcorne or Oldcorn. In the Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot the form of name is adopted that is most prevalent in the autograph from which it is printed.]

“Examined by us,”
Ry. Barkeley.
Edw. Coke.
Tho. Fflemynge.
Fr. Bacon.
“W. Waad.”[^93]

[^93: On the back of a playing card (the seven of spades), which is attached to the original document, is written in Sir Edward Coke's handwriting:

“Polewhele 1 Walpole 1 PatCullen 1 Annias 31 Willms 1 Squier Jarrard 1.”

Polewhele, Patrick Cullen or O'Collun, Williams, and Squire were all executed for high treason, the latter on the accusation of having, at Father Walpole's instigation, poisoned the pommel of Elizabeth's saddle. Annias apostatized after two years' imprisonment.]

We now return to the impression that remained on Father Gerard's memory of this examination, when he wrote his life some twelve years afterwards. “They did not ask anything at that time about private Catholics, but only about matters of State, to which I answered as before in general terms; namely, that all such things were strictly forbidden to us of the Society, that I had consequently never mixed myself up with political matters, sufficient proof whereof, I said, was to be found in the fact that, though they had had me in custody for three years and had constantly examined me, they had never been able to produce a single line of my writing, nor a single trustworthy witness, to show that I had ever injured the State in a single point.”

“They then inquired what letters I had lately received from our Fathers abroad. Here it was I first divined the reason of my being transferred to the Tower. I answered, however, that if I had ever received any letters from abroad, they never had any connection with matters of State, but related solely to the money matters of certain Catholics who were living beyond seas.”

“‘Did not you,’ said Wade, ‘receive lately a packet of letters; and did you not deliver them to such a one for Henry Garnett?’”

“‘If I have received any such,’ I answered, ‘and delivered them as you say, I only did my duty. But I never received nor delivered any but what related to the private money matters of certain Religious or students who are pursuing their studies beyond seas, as I have before said.’”

“‘Well,’ said they, ‘where is he to be found to whom you delivered the letters, and how is he called?’”

“‘I do not know,’ I answered; ‘and if I did know, I neither could nor would tell you.’ And then I alleged the usual reasons.”

“‘You tell us,’ said the Attorney General, ‘that you do not wish to offend against the State. Tell us, then, where this Garnett is; for he is an enemy of the State, and you are bound to give information of such people.’”

“‘He is no enemy of the State,’ I replied; ‘but, on the contrary, I am sure that he would be ready to lay down his life for the Queen and the State. However, I do not know where he is, and if I did know I would not tell you.’”

“‘But you shall tell us,’ said they, ‘before we leave this place.’”

“‘Please God,’ said I, ‘that shall never be.’”

“They then produced the warrant which they had for putting me to the torture, and gave it me to read; for it is not allowed in this prison to put any one to the torture without express warrant. I saw the document was duly signed, so I said: ‘By the help of God, I will never do what is against God, against justice, and against the Catholic faith. You have me in your power; do what God permits you, for you certainly cannot go beyond.’”

“Then they began to entreat me not to force them to do what they were loath to do; and told me they were bound not to desist from putting me to the torture day after day, as long as my life lasted, until I gave the information they sought from me.”

“‘I trust in God's goodness,’ I answered, ‘that He will never allow me to do so base an act as to bring innocent persons to harm. Nor, indeed, do I fear what you can do to me, since all of us are in God's hands.’”

“Such was the purport of my replies, as far as I can remember.”

“Then we proceeded to the place appointed for the torture. We went in a sort of solemn procession; the attendants preceding us with lighted candles, because the place was underground and very dark, especially about the entrance. It was a place of immense extent, and in it were ranged divers sorts of racks, and other instruments of torture. Some of these they displayed before me, and told me I should have to taste them every one. Then again they asked me if I was willing to satisfy them on the points on which they had questioned me. ‘It is out of my power to satisfy you,’ I answered; and throwing myself on my knees, I said a prayer or two.”

“Then they led me to a great upright beam, or pillar of wood, which was one of the supports of this vast crypt. At the summit of this column were fixed certain iron staples for supporting weights. Here they placed on my wrists manacles of iron, and ordered me to mount upon two or three wicker steps;[^94] then raising my arms, they inserted an iron bar through the rings of the manacles, and then through the staples in the pillar, putting a pin through the bar so that it could not slip. My arms being thus fixed above my head, they withdrew those wicker steps I spoke of, one by one, from beneath my feet, so that I hung by my hands and arms. The tips of my toes, however, still touched the ground;[^95] so they dug away the ground beneath, as they could not raise me higher, for they had suspended me from the topmost staples in the pillar.”

[^94: Scirpicula quaedam duo vel tria ex juncis facta (MS.). It is not easy to understand exactly what these were.]

[^95: Father Gerard's great stature could not be more clearly indicated. This would of course involve a greater weight of body, and consequently greater severity in this mode of torture. ‘Erat enim,’ says Father More, in his History, ‘pleno et procero corpore.’]

“Thus hanging by my wrists, I began to pray, while those gentlemen standing round asked me again if I was willing to confess. I replied, ‘I neither can nor will.’ But so terrible a pain began to oppress me, that I was scarce able to speak the words. The worst pain was in my breast and belly, my arms and hands. It seemed to me that all the blood in my body rushed up my arms into my hands; and I was under the impression at the time that the blood actually burst forth from my fingers and at the back of my hands. This was, however, a mistake; the sensation was caused by the swelling of the flesh over the iron that bound it.”

“I felt now such intense pain (and the effect was probably heightened by an interior temptation), that it seemed to me impossible to continue enduring it. It did not, however, go so far as to make me feel any inclination or real disposition to give the information they wanted. For as the eyes of our merciful Lord had seen my imperfection, He did ‘not suffer me to be tempted above what I was able, but with the temptation made also a way of escape.’ Seeing me therefore in this agony of pain and this interior distress, His infinite mercy sent me this thought: ‘The very furthest and utmost they can do is to take away thy life; and often hast thou desired to give thy life for God: thou art in God's hands, Who knoweth well what thou sufferest, and is all-powerful to sustain thee.’ With this thought our good God gave me also out of His immense bounty the grace to resign myself, and offer myself utterly to His good pleasure, together with some hope and desire of dying for His sake. From that moment I felt no more trouble in my soul, and even the bodily pain seemed to be more bearable than before, although I doubt not that it really increased, from the continued strain that was exercised on every part of my body.”

“Hereupon those gentlemen, seeing that I gave them no further answer, departed to the Lieutenant's house; and there they waited, sending now and then to know how things were going on in the crypt. There were left with me three or four strong men, to superintend my torture. My gaoler also remained, I fully believe out of kindness to me, and kept wiping away with a handkerchief the sweat that ran down from my face the whole time, as, indeed, it did from my whole body. So far, indeed, he did me a service; but by his words, he rather added to my distress, for he never stopped beseeching and entreating me to have pity on myself, and tell these gentlemen what they wanted to know; and so many human reasons did he allege, that I verily believe he was either instigated directly by the devil under pretence of affection for me, or had been left there purposely by the persecutors to influence me by his show of sympathy. In any case, these shafts of the enemy seemed to be spent before they reached me, for though annoying, they did me no real hurt, nor did they seem to touch my soul, or move it in the least. I said, therefore, to him, ‘I pray, you to say no more on that point, for I am not minded to lose my soul for the sake of my body, and you pain me by what you say.’ Yet I could not prevail with him to be silent. The others also who stood by said: ‘He will be a cripple all his life, if he lives through it; but he will have to be tortured daily till he confesses.’ But I kept praying in a low voice, and continually uttered the holy names of Jesus and Mary.”

“I had hung in this way till after one of the clock, as I think, when I fainted. How long I was in the faint I know not; perhaps not long; for the men who stood by lifted me up, or replaced those wicker steps under my feet, until I came to myself; and immediately they heard me praying, they let me down again. This they did over and over again when the faint came on, eight or nine times before five of the clock. Somewhat before five came Wade again, and drawing near said, ‘Will you yet obey the commands of the Queen and the Council?’”

“‘No,’ said I, ‘what you ask is unlawful, therefore I will never do it.’”

“‘At least then,’ said Wade, ‘say that you would like to speak to Secretary Cecil.’”

“‘I have nothing to say to him,’ I replied, ‘more than I have said already; and if I were to ask to speak to him, scandal would be caused, for people would imagine that I was yielding at length, and wished to give information.’”

“Upon this Wade suddenly turned his back in a rage, and departed, saying in a loud and angry tone, ‘Hang there, then, till you rot!’”

“So he went away, and I think all the Commissioners then left the Tower; for at five of the clock the great bell of the Tower sounds, as a signal for all to leave who do not wish to be locked in all night. Soon after this they took me down from my cross, and though neither foot nor leg was injured, yet I could hardly stand.”

XV.

“I was helped back to my cell by the gaoler, and meeting on the way some of the prisoners who had the range of the Tower, I addressed the gaoler in their hearing, saying I wondered how those gentlemen could insist so on my telling them where Father Garnett was, since every one must acknowledge it to be a sin to betray an innocent man, a thing I would never do, though I should die for it. This I said out loud, on purpose that the authorities might not have it in their power to publish a report about me that I had made a confession, as they often did in such cases. I had also another reason, which was that word might reach Father Garnett, through these persons spreading abroad what they heard me say, that it was about him I was chiefly examined, in order that he might look to himself. I noticed that my gaoler was very unwilling that I should speak thus before the others, but I did not stint for that. My gaoler appeared sincerely to compassionate my state, and when he reached my cell he laid me a fire, and brought me some food, as supper-time had nearly come. I scarcely tasted anything, but laid myself on my bed, and remained quiet there till the next morning.”

“Early next morning, however, soon after the Tower gates were opened, my gaoler came up to the cell and told me that Master Wade had arrived, and that I must go down to him. I went down, therefore, that time in a sort of cloak with wide sleeves, for my hands were so swollen that they would not have passed through ordinary sleeves. When I had come to the Lieutenant's house, Wade addressed me thus: ‘I am sent to you on the part of the Queen and of Master Secretary Cecil, the first of whom assures you on the word of a Sovereign, the other on his word of honour, that they know for certain that Garnett is in the habit of meddling in political matters, and that he is an enemy of the State. Consequently, unless you mean to contradict them flatly, you ought to submit your judgment, and produce him.’”

“‘They cannot possibly know this,’ I replied, ‘by their own experience and of certain knowledge, since they have no personal knowledge of the man. Now, I have lived with him and know him well, and I know him to be no such character as you say.’”

“‘Well then,’ returned he, ‘you will not acknowledge it, nor tell us what we ask?’”

“‘No, certainly not,’ said I; ‘I neither can nor will.’”

“‘It would be better for you if you did,’ he replied. And thereupon he summoned from the next room a gentleman who had been there waiting, a tall and commanding figure, whom he called the Superintendent of Torture. I knew there was such an officer, but this man was not really in that charge, as I heard afterwards, but was Master of the Artillery in the Tower. However, Wade called him by that name to strike the greater terror into me, and said to him, ‘In the name of the Queen, and of the Lords of her Council, I deliver this man into your hands. You are to rack him twice to-day, and twice daily until such time as he chooses to confess.’ The officer then took charge of me, and Wade departed.”

“Thereupon we descended with the same solemnity as before into the place appointed for torture, and again they put the manacles on the same part of my arms as before; indeed, they could not be put on in any other part, for the flesh had so risen on both sides that there were two hills of flesh with a valley between, and the manacles would not meet anywhere but in the valley. Here then were they put on, not without causing me much pain. Our good Lord, however, helped me, and I cheerfully offered Him my hands and my heart. So I was hung up again as I before described; and in my hands I felt a great deal more pain than on the previous day, but not so much in my breast and belly, perhaps because this day I had eaten nothing.”

“While thus hanging I prayed, sometimes silently, sometimes aloud, recommending myself to our Lord Jesus and His Blessed Mother. I hung much longer this time without fainting, but at length I fainted so thoroughly that they could not bring me to, and they thought that I either was dead or soon would be. So they called the Lieutenant, but how long he was there I know not, nor how long I remained in the faint. When I came round, however, I found myself no longer hanging by my hands, but supported sitting on a bench, with many people round me, who had opened my teeth with some iron instrument, and were pouring warm water down my throat. Now when the Lieutenant saw I could speak, he said: ‘Do you not see how much better it is for you to yield to the wishes of the Queen than to lose your life this way?’”

“By God's help I answered him with more spirit than I had ever before felt, ‘No, certainly I do not see it. I would rather die a thousand times than do what they require of me.’”

“‘You will not, then,’ he repeated.”

“‘No, indeed I will not,’ I answered, ‘while a breath remains in my body.’”

“‘Well then,’ said he, and he seemed to say it sorrowfully, as if reluctant to carry out his orders, ‘we must hang you up again now, and after dinner too.’”

“‘Let us go, then, in the name of God,’ I said; ‘I have but one life, and if I had more I would offer them all for this cause.’ And with this I attempted to rise in order to go to the pillar, but they were obliged to support me, as I was very weak in body from the torture. And if there was any strength in my soul it was the gift of God, and given, I am convinced, because I was a member of the Society, though a most unworthy one. I was suspended, therefore, a third time, and hung there in very great pain of body, but not without great consolation of soul, which seemed to me to arise from the prospect of dying. Whether it was from a true love of suffering for Christ, or from a sort of selfish desire to be with Christ, God knows best; but I certainly thought that I should die, and felt great joy in committing myself to the will and good pleasure of my God, and contemning entirely the will of men. Oh, that God would grant me always to have that same spirit (though I doubt not that it wanted much of true perfection in His eyes), for a longer life remains to me than I then thought, and He granted me time to prepare myself better for His holy presence.”

“After awhile the Lieutenant, seeing that he made no way with me by continuing the torture, or because the dinner-hour was near at hand, or perhaps through a natural feeling of compassion, ordered me to be taken down. I think I hung not quite an hour this third time. I am rather inclined to think that the Lieutenant released me from compassion; for, some time after my escape, a gentleman of quality told me he had it from Sir Richard Barkley himself (who was this very Lieutenant of whom I speak), that he had of his own accord resigned the office he held, because he would no longer be an instrument in torturing innocent men so cruelly. And, in fact, he gave up the post after holding it but three or four months, and another Knight was appointed in his stead, in whose time it was that I made my escape.”

“So I was brought back to my room by my gaoler, who seemed to have his eyes full of tears, and he assured me that his wife had been weeping and praying for me the whole time, though I had never seen the good woman in all my life. Then he brought me some food, of which I could eat but little, and that little he was obliged to cut for me and put into my mouth. I could not hold a knife in my hands for many days after, much less now when I was not even able to move my fingers, nor help myself in anything, so that he was obliged to do everything for me. However, by order of the authorities he took away my knife, scissors, and razors, lest I should kill myself, I believe; for they always do this in the Tower as long as the prisoner is under warrant for torture. I expected, therefore, daily to be sent for again to the torture-chamber, according to order; but our merciful God, while to other stronger champions, such as Father Walpole and Father Southwell, He gave a sharp struggle that they might overcome, gave His weak soldier but a short trial that he might not be overcome. They indeed, being perfected in a short time, fulfilled a long space; but I, unworthy of so great a good, was left to run out my days, and so supply for my defects by washing my soul with my tears, since I deserved not to wash it with my blood. God so ordained it, and may that be done which is good in His eyes.”

Father Garnett, in his letters, mentions Father Gerard's torture for the first time when writing to Father Persons at Rome, April 23, 1597:[^96] “John Gerard hath been sore tortured in the Tower: it is thought it was for some letters directed to him out of Spain.” Between this date and the next, some details had reached Father Garnett, for on the 7th of May, 1597, he wrote to the General (we translate from the Italian):[^97] “Of John Gerard I have already written to you where he is. He hath been twice hanged up by the hands, with great cruelty of others, and not less suffering of his own. The inquisitors here say that he is very obstinate, and that he has a great alliance with God or the devil, as they cannot draw the least word out of his mouth, except that in torment he cries ‘Jesus.’ They took him lately to the rack, and the torturers and examiners were there ready, but he suddenly, when he entered the place, knelt down, and with a loud voice prayed to our Lord that, as He had given grace and strength to some of His Saints to bear with Christian patience being torn to pieces by horses for His love, so He would be pleased to give him grace and courage, rather to be dragged into a thousand pieces than to say anything that might injure any person or the Divine glory. And so they left him without tormenting him, seeing him so resolved.” On June 13, 1597 (in the copy it is Jan. 10, evidently a mistake), he writes:[^98] “I wrote unto you heretofore of the remove of Mr. Gerard to the Tower: he hath been thrice hanged up by the hands, every time until he was almost dead, and that in one day twice. The cause was (as now I understand perfectly) for to tell where his Superior was, and by whom he had sent him letters which were delivered him from Father Persons, and he was discovered by one of his fellow-prisoners. The Earl of Essex saith he must needs honour him for his constancy.” Again, a letter of Father Garnett to the General, in Latin, dated June 11, 1597, runs thus:[^99] “I have written to you more than once of our Mr. John Gerard, that he has been thrice tortured, but that he has borne all with invincible courage. We have also lately heard for certain that the Earl of Essex praised his constancy, declaring that he could not help honouring and admiring the man. A secretary of the Royal Council denies that the Queen wishes to have him executed. To John this will be a great trouble.”

[^96: Stonyhurst MSS., P., vol. ii., f. 547.]

[^97: Ibid., Angl. A., vol. ii., n. 27; P., vol. ii., f. 604.]

[^98: Ibid., P., vol. ii., f. 548.]

[^99: Stonyhurst MSS., P., vol. ii., f. 601.]

XVI.

“I remained therefore in my cell, spending my time principally in prayer. And now again I made the Spiritual Exercises, as I had done at the beginning of my imprisonment, giving four or five hours a day to meditation for a whole month. I had a breviary with me, so that I was able to say my Office; and every day I said a dry Mass (such as is said by those who are practising Mass before the Priesthood), and that with great reverence and desire of communicating, especially at that part where I should have communicated if the Sacrifice had been real. And these practices consoled me in my tribulation.”

“At the end of three weeks, as far as I can remember, I was able to move my fingers, and help myself a little, and even hold a knife. So when I had finished my retreat, I asked leave to have some books, but they only allowed me a Bible, which I obtained from my friends in my former prison. I sent to them for some money, by which means I saw that I should be able to enlist the sympathies of my gaoler, and induce him to allow me things, and even to bring me some books. My friends sent me by him all that I asked for. I got my gaoler to buy some large oranges, a fruit of which he was very fond. But besides gratifying him with a present of them, I meditated making another use of them in time.”

“I now began to exercise my hands a little after dinner. Supper I never took, though it was always allowed; indeed, there was no stint of food in the prison, all being furnished at the Queen's expense; for there were given me daily six small rolls of very good bread. There are different scales of diet fixed in the prison, according to the rank of the prisoner; the religious state, indeed, they take no account of, but only human rank, thus making most of what ought to be esteemed the least. Well, the exercise which I gave my hands was to cut the peel of these oranges into the form of crosses, and sew them two and two together. I made many of these crosses, and many rosaries also strung on silken cord. Then I asked my gaoler if he would carry some of these crosses and rosaries to my friends in my old prison? He, seeing nothing in this to compromise him, readily undertook to do so. In the meanwhile, I put some of the orange-juice in a small jug. I was now in want of a pen, but I dared not openly ask for one; nay, even if I had asked, and obtained my request, I could at this time scarcely have written, or but very badly; for though I could hold a pen, I could hardly feel that I had anything in my fingers. The sense of touch was not recovered for five months, and even then not fully, for I was never without a certain numbness in my hands up to the time of my escape, which was more than six months after the torture. So I begged for a quill to make myself a toothpick, which he readily brought me. I made this into a pen fit for writing, then cutting off a short piece of the pointed end, I fixed it on a small stick. With the rest of the quill I made a toothpick, so long that nothing appeared to have been cut off, and this I afterwards showed my gaoler. Then I begged for some paper to wrap up my rosaries and crosses, and obtained his leave also to write a line or two with pencil on the paper, asking my friends to pray for me. All this he allowed, not suspecting that he was carrying anything but what he knew. But I had managed to write on the paper with some orange-juice, telling my friends to write back to me in the same way, but sparingly at first; asking them also to give the bearer a little money, and promise him some as often as he should bring any crosses or rosaries from me, with a few words of my writing to assure them that I was well.”

“When they received the paper and the rosaries, knowing that I should if possible have written something with orange-juice, as I used to do with them, they immediately retired to their room, and held the paper to a fire. Thus they read all I had written, and wrote back to me in the same way, sending me some comfits or dried sweetmeats wrapped up in the paper on which they had written. We continued this method of communication for about half a year; but we soon proceeded with much greater confidence when we found that the man never failed to deliver our missives faithfully. For full three months, however, he had no idea that he was conveying letters to and fro. But after three months I began to ask him to allow me to write with a pencil at greater length, which he permitted. I always gave him these letters open, that he might see what I wrote, and I wrote nothing but spiritual matters that he could see, but on the blank part of the paper I had written with orange-juice directions and particular advice for my different friends, about which he knew nothing.”

“As it happened, indeed, I need not have been so circumspect; for the man, as I found out after some time, could not read. He pretended, however, that he was able, and used to stand and look over my shoulder while I read to him what I had written with pencil. At length it occurred to me that possibly he could not read; so in order to make the trial, while he was looking over the paper, I read it altogether in a different way from what I had written. After doing this on two or three occasions without his taking any notice, I said openly to him, with a smile, that he need not look over my shoulder any more. He acknowledged, indeed, that he could not read, but said that he took great pleasure in hearing what I read to him. After this he let me write what I would, and carried everything as faithfully as ever. He even provided me with ink, and carried closed letters to and fro between my friends and me. For seeing that I had to do with very few, and those discreet and trustworthy people, and thinking that neither I nor they were likely to betray him, he did just what we asked him for a consideration, for he always received a stipulated payment. He begged me, however, not to require him to go so often to the Clink prison, lest suspicion should arise from these frequent visits, which might cause harm not only to him, but to me; he proposed, therefore, that some friend of mine should meet him near the Tower and deliver the letters to him. But I was loath to risk the safety of any one by putting him thus in the man's power. It made no difference to those already in custody; they could, without much additional danger, hold correspondence with me, and send me anything for my support by way of alms. Besides, I knew that my messenger would not be likely to speak of the letter he carried, as he was quite conscious that this would be as dangerous for himself as for those to whom he carried them.”

“Nay, even if he had wished he could not have done much injury either to me or my friends, because I took good care never to name any of them in my letters: but before I was in prison, and after, I invariably used pseudonyms which were understood by those to whom I wrote. Thus, I called one ‘Brother,’ another ‘Son,’ another ‘Nephew,’ or ‘Friend,’ and so of their wives, calling this one ‘Sister,’ that one ‘Niece,’ or ‘Daughter.’ In this way no one not in the secret could possibly tell whom I meant, even if the letters had been intercepted, which they never were. I may add that even if the letters had been betrayed and read, they could never have been made further use of by the enemy, in allowing them to be carried to their destination to lure the correspondents on till they should compromise themselves, as was sometimes done. For I never wrote now with lemon-juice, as I once did in the Clink; which letter was betrayed to the persecutor Wade, as I before related. The reason of my doing so then was because there were two letters there, which had to be read in one place, and then carried to another. Now lemon-juice has this property, that what is written in it can be read in water quite as well as by fire, and when the paper is dried the writing disappears again till it is steeped afresh, or again held to the fire. But anything written with orange-juice is at once washed out by water, and cannot be read at all in that way; and if held to the fire, though the characters are thus made to appear, and can be read, they will not disappear; so that a letter of this sort, once read, can never be delivered to any one as if it had not been read. The party will see at once that it has been read, and will certainly refuse and disown it, if it should contain anything dangerous. It was in this way I knew that my letters always reached my friends, and that theirs reached me in safety. And so our correspondence continued, I obtaining sure information of all my friends, and they receiving at my hands the consolation they sought.”

“In order, however, that matters might go on still more securely, I managed, through some of my friends, that John Lilly's release should be purchased; and from that time I always got him to bring to my gaoler everything that reached me from the outside. It was through his means too, a little later, that I escaped from the Tower, although nothing certainly was farther from my thoughts when I thus secured his services. All I had in view was to be able to increase my correspondence with safety. This went on for about four months, and after the first month I gave a good time to study by means of books secretly procured. But at this time an event occurred which caused me great anxiety.”

“Master Francis Page, of whom I have before spoken, was now living with my former host,” Mr. Wiseman, “who had been released from prison. After my removal to the Tower, he got to learn in what part of it I was confined; and out of regard for me used to come daily to a spot from whence he could see my window, in order to get the chance some day of seeing me there. At last it so happened that going one day to the window (it was a warm day in summer), I noticed a gentleman at some distance pull off his hat as if to me; then he walked to and fro, and frequently stopped and made pretence of arranging his hair, in order to have the opportunity of doffing his hat to me without attracting the attention of others. At last I recognized him by the clothes that he was accustomed to wear, and made him a sign of recognition, and giving him my blessing, I withdrew at once from the window, lest others should see me, and have suspicion of him. But the good man was not content with this; daily did he come for my blessing, and stopped some time, walking to and fro, and ever as he turned he doffed his hat, though I frequently made signals to him not to do so. At length he was noticed doing this, and one day as I was looking I saw him, to my great grief, seized and led away. He was brought to the Lieutenant of the Tower, who examined him about me and my friends. But he denied everything, and said that he simply walked there for his amusement, it being a fine open space close to the river Thames. So they kept him a prisoner for some days, and meanwhile by inquiry found that he was living with my former host. This increased their suspicion that he had been sent there to give me some sign. But as he constantly denied everything, they at last had recourse to me, and sent for me to be examined. Now, as I was going to the examination, Master Page was walking up and down with my gaoler in the hall, through which I was taken to the chamber where the authorities awaited me. Immediately I was introduced, the examiners said to me: ‘There is a young man here named Francis Page, who says he knows you and desires to speak with you.’”

“‘He can do so if he wishes,’ I replied; ‘but who is this Francis Page? I know no such person.’”

“‘Not know him?’ said they; ‘he at any rate knows you so well that he can recognize you at a distance, and has come daily to salute you.’”

“I, however, maintained I knew no such man. So when they found they could twist nothing out of me either by wiles or threats, they sent me back. But as I passed again through the hall where Master Page was with the others, I looked all round, and said with a loud voice, ‘Is there any one here of the name of Francis Page, who says he knows me well, and has often come before my window to see me? Which of all these is he? I know no such person, and I wonder that any one should be willing to injure himself by saying such things.’”

“All this while the gaoler was trying to prevent my speaking, but was unable. I said this, not because I had any idea that he had acknowledged that he knew me, but for fear they might afterwards tell him of me what they had told me of him. And so it turned out. For they had told him already that I had acknowledged I knew him, and they had only sent for me then that he might see me go in, intending to tell him I had confirmed all I said before. But now they could not so impose on him. For when he was summoned, he immediately told them what I had said publicly in the hall as I passed through. The men, in their disappointment, stormed against the gaoler and me, but being thus baffled, could not carry out their deception.”

“A little later they released Master Page for money, who soon crossed the sea, and, after going through his studies in Belgium, was made Priest. Thence he returned afterwards to England and remained mostly in London, where he was much beloved, and useful to many souls. One of his penitents was that Mistress Line whose martyrdom I have above related. In her house he was once taken, as I said, but that time he escaped. A little after he obtained his desire of being admitted into the Society, but before he could be sent over to Belgium for his noviceship, he was again taken, and being tried like gold in the furnace, and accepted as the victim of a holocaust, he washed his robe in the blood of the Lamb, and is now in the possession of his reward. And he sees me now no longer detained in the Tower while he is walking by the water of the Thames, but rather he beholds me on the waters, still tossed by the various winds and storms, while he is secure of his own eternal happiness, and solicitous, as I hope, for mine. Before all this, however, he used to say that he was much encouraged and amused by hearing what I said as I passed through the hall, as it enabled him to detect and avoid the snares of the enemy.”

“During the time I was detained at the Tower, no one was allowed to visit me, so that I could afford no help to souls by my words; by letter, however, I did what I could with those to whom I could venture to trust the secret of how they might correspond with me. Once, however, after John Lilly's release, as he was walking in London streets, two ladies, mother and daughter, accosted him, and begged him if it was by any means possible to bring them where they could see me. He, knowing the extreme danger of such an attempt, endeavoured to dissuade them, but they gave him no peace till he promised to open the matter to the gaoler, and try to get him to admit them, as if they were relations of his. Gained over by large promises, the man consented; the ladies had also made a present of a new gown to his wife. They therefore, dressing themselves as simple London citizens, the fashion of whose garments is very different from that of ladies of quality, came with John Lilly under pretence of visiting the gaoler's wife, and seeing the lions that are kept in the Tower, and the other animals there which the curious are in the habit of coming to see. After they had seen all the sights, the gaoler led them within the walls of the Tower, and when he found a good opportunity, introduced them and John Lilly into my room, exposing himself to a great danger for a small gain. When they saw me they could not restrain themselves from running and kissing my feet, and even strove with one another who should first kiss them. For my part, I could not deny them what they had bought so dear, and then begged for so earnestly, but I only allowed them to offer this homage to me as to the prisoner of Christ, not as to the sinner that I am. We conversed a little, then leaving with me what they had brought for my use, they returned in safety much consoled, but not without tears, for they thought they should never see my face again, inasmuch as they had heard in the city that I was to be brought to trial and executed.”

XVII.

“Once also Father Garnett, my Superior, sent me similar happy news, warning me in a letter full of consolation to prepare myself for death. And, indeed, I cannot deny that I rejoiced at the things that were said to me; but my great unworthiness prevented me from going into the House of the Lord. In fact, the good Father, though he knew it not, was to obtain this mercy before me; and God grant that I may be able to follow him even at a distance to the Cross which he so much loved and honoured. God gave him the desire of his heart; for it was on the Feast of the Invention of the Holy Cross that he found Him Whom his soul loved. On this same Feast of the Holy Cross on which this holy Father found his crown, I received, by his intercession I fully believe, two great favours, of which I will speak further at the close of this narration; to which close, indeed, it behoves me to hasten, for I am conscious that I have already been more diffuse than such small matters warranted.”

“What good Father Garnett warned me of by letter, the enemy threatened also by words and acts about that time. For those who had come before with authority to put me to the torture, now came again, but with another object, to wit, to take my formal examination in preparation for my trial. So the Queen's Attorney General questioned me on all points, and wrote everything down in that order which he meant to observe in prosecuting me at the assizes, as he told me. He asked me, therefore, about my Priesthood, and about my coming to England as a Priest and a Jesuit, and inquired whether I had dealt with any to reconcile them to the Pope, and draw them away from the faith and religious profession which was approved in England. All these things I freely confessed that I had done; answers which furnished quite sufficient matter for my condemnation according to their laws. When they asked, however, with whom I had communicated in political matters, I replied that I had never meddled with such things. But they urged the point, and said it was impossible that I, who so much desired the conversion of England, should not have tried these means also, as being very well adapted to the end. To this I replied, as far as I recollect, in the following way: ‘I will tell you my mind candidly in this matter, and about the State, in order that you may have no doubt about my intent, nor question me any more on the subject; and in what I say, lo! before God and His holy Angels I lie not, nor do I add aught to the true feeling of my heart. I wish, indeed, that the whole of England should be converted to the Catholic and Roman faith; that the Queen, too, should be converted, and all the Privy Council; yourselves also, and all the magistrates of the realm: but so that the Queen and you all without a single exception should continue to hold the same powers and dignities that you do at present, and that not a single hair of your head should perish, that so you may be happy both in this life and the next. Do not think, however, that I desire this conversion for my own sake, in order to regain my liberty and follow my vocation in freedom. No; I call God to witness that I would gladly consent to be hanged to-morrow if all this could be brought about by that means. This is my mind and my desire: consequently I am no enemy of the Queen's nor of yours, nor have I ever been so.’”

“Hereupon Mr. Attorney kept silence for a time, and then he began afresh to ask me what Catholics I knew; did I know such-and-such? I answered, ‘I do not know them.’ And I added the usual reasons why I should still make the same answer even if I did know them. Upon this, he digressed to the question of equivocation, and began to inveigh against Father Southwell,” whose conduct I defended by several arguments.[^100]

[^100: These arguments are purposely omitted in this place, and they are reserved for insertion later, when we propose to examine into the morality of the answers made by Father Gerard and others in their judicial interrogations.]

“They made no reply to me; but the Attorney General wrote everything down, and said he should use it against me at my trial in a short time. But he did not keep his word: for I was not worthy to enter under God's roof, where nothing denied can enter. I have, therefore, still to be purified by a prolonged sojourn in exile, and so at length, if God please, be saved as by fire.”

“This my last examination was in Trinity term, as they call it. They have four terms in the year, during which many come up to London to have their causes tried, for these are times that the law courts are open. It is during these terms, on account of the great confluence of people, that they bring those Priests to trial whom they have determined to prosecute; and probably this was what they proposed to do in my case: but man proposes and God disposes, and He had disposed otherwise. When this time, therefore, had passed away, there was no longer any probability that they would proceed against me publicly. I turned my attention consequently to study in this time of enforced leisure, as I thought they had now determined only to prevent my communication with others, and that this was the reason they had transferred me to my present prison, as being more strict and more secure.”

XVIII.

“I thus endeavoured to conform myself to the decrees of God and the tyranny of man; when lo! on the last day of July [1597], the anniversary of our holy Father Ignatius' departure from this life, while I was in meditation and was entertaining a vehement desire of an opportunity for saying Mass, it came into my head that this really might be accomplished in the cell of a certain Catholic gentleman, which lay opposite mine on the other side of a small garden within the Tower. This gentleman[^101] had been detained ten years in prison. He had been, indeed, condemned to death, but the sentence was not carried out. He was in the habit of going up daily on the leads of the building in which he was confined, which he was allowed to use as a place of exercise. Here he would salute me, and wait for my blessing on bended knees.”

[^101: We find from an extract of one of Father Garnett's letters in the Stonyhurst MSS. that this gentleman's name was Arden. ‘Oct. 8, 1597. Upon St. Francis' day at night broke out of the Tower one Arden and Mr. Gerard the Jesuit. There is yet no inquiry after him’ (P., vol. ii., f. 548). Father Bartoli, also, and Father More mention Arden as the name of Father Gerard's companion. Francis Arden was committed to the Tower, Feb. 22, 1584. He was probably a relation of Edward Arden, who was hanged Dec. 23, 1583, ‘protesting his innocence of every charge, and declaring that his only crime was the profession of the Catholic religion’ (Rishton's Diary in the Tower).]

“On examining this idea of mine more at leisure, I concluded that the matter was feasible, if I could prevail on my gaoler to allow me to visit this gentleman. For he had a wife who had obtained permission to visit him at fixed times, and bring him changes of linen and other little comforts in a basket; and as this had now gone on many years, the officers had come to be not so particular in examining the basket as they were at first. I hoped, therefore, that there would be a possibility of introducing gradually by means of this lady all things necessary for the celebration of Mass, which my friends would supply. Resolving to make the trial, I made a sign to the gentleman to attend to what I was going to indicate to him. I then took pen and paper and made as if I was writing somewhat; then, after holding the paper to the fire, I made a show of reading it, and lastly I wrapped up one of my crosses in it, and made a sign of sending it over to him. I dared not speak to him across the garden, as what I said would easily have been heard by others. Then I began treating with my gaoler to convey a cross or a rosary for me to my fellow-prisoner, for the same man had charge of both of us, as we were near neighbours. At first he refused, saying that he durst not venture, as he had had no proof of the other prisoner's fidelity in keeping a secret. ‘For if,’ said he, ‘the gentleman's wife were to talk of this, and it should become known I had done such a thing, it would be all over with me.’ I reassured him, however, and convinced him that such a result was not likely, and, as I added a little bribe, I prevailed upon him as usual to gratify me. He took my letter, and the other received what I sent; but he wrote me nothing back as I had requested him to do. Next morning when he made his appearance on the leads he thanked me by signs, and showed the cross I had sent him.”

“After three days, as I got no answer from him, I began to suspect the real reason, namely, that he had not read my letter. So I called his attention again, and went through the whole process in greater detail. Thus, I took an orange and squeezed the juice into a little cup, then I took a pen and wrote with the orange-juice, and holding the paper some time before the fire, that the writing might be visible, I perused it before him, trying to make him understand that this was what he should do with my next paper. This time he fathomed my meaning, and thus read the next letter I sent him. He soon sent me a reply, saying that he thought the first time I wanted him to burn the paper, as I had written a few visible words on it with pencil; therefore he had done so. To my proposal, moreover, he answered, that the thing could be done, if my gaoler would allow me to visit him in the evening and remain with him the next day; and that his wife would bring all the furniture that should be given her for the purpose.”

“As a next step, I sounded the gaoler about allowing me to visit my fellow-prisoner, and proposed he should let me go just once and dine with him, and that he, the gaoler, should have his share in the feast. He refused absolutely, and showed great fear of the possibility of my being seen as I crossed the garden, or lest the Lieutenant might take it into his head to pay me a visit that very day. But as he was never in the habit of visiting me, I argued that it was very improbable that the thing should happen as he feared. After this, the golden arguments I adduced proved completely successful, for I promised him a crown for his kindness; and he acceded to my request. So I fixed on the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin; and in the meanwhile I told my neighbour to let his wife call at such a place in London, having previously sent word to John Lilly what he should give her to bring. I told him, moreover, to send a pyx and a number of small hosts, that I might be able to reserve the Blessed Sacrament. He provided all I told him, and the good lady got them safely to her husband's cell. So on the appointed day I went over with my gaoler, and stayed with my fellow-prisoner that night and the next day; but the gaoler exacted a promise that not a word of this should be said to the gentleman's wife. The next morning, then, said I Mass, to my great consolation; and that confessor of Christ communicated, after having been so many years deprived of that favour. In this Mass I consecrated also two-and-twenty particles, which I reserved in the pyx with a corporal; these I took back with me to my cell, and for many days renewed the divine banquet with ever fresh delight and consolation.”

XIX.

“Now while we were together that day, I—though nothing was less in my thoughts when I came over than any idea of escape (for I sought only our true deliverer, Jesus Christ, as He was prefigured in the little ash-baked loaf of Elias, that I might with more strength and courage travel the rest of my way even to the Mount of God),—seeing how close this part of the Tower was to the moat by which it was surrounded, began to think with myself that it were a possible thing for a man to descend by a rope from the top of the building to the other side of the moat. I asked my companion, therefore, what he thought about it, and whether it seemed possible to him. ‘Certainly,’ said he, ‘it could be done, if a man had some real and true friends to assist him, who would not shrink from exposing themselves to danger to rescue one they loved.’”

“‘There is no want of such friends,’ I replied, ‘if only the thing is feasible and worth while trying,’”

“‘For my part,’ said he, ‘I should only be too glad to make the attempt; since it would be far better for me to live even in hiding, where I could enjoy the Sacraments and the company of good men, than to spend my life here in solitude between four walls.’”

“‘Well, then,’ I answered, ‘let us commend the matter to God in prayer; in the meanwhile I will write to my Superior, and what he thinks best we will do.’”

“While we remained together, we took counsel on all the details that would have to be carried out, if the plan were adopted. I returned that night to my cell, and wrote a letter to Father Garnett by John Lilly, putting all the circumstances before him. He answered me that the thing should be attempted by all means, if I thought it could be done without danger to my life in the descent.”

“Upon this I wrote to” Mr. Wiseman, “my former host, telling him that an escape in this way could be managed, but that the matter must be communicated to as few as possible, lest it should get noised about and stopped. I appointed, moreover, John Lilly and Richard Fulwood, the latter of whom was at that time serving Father Garnett, if they were willing to expose themselves to the peril, to come on such a night to the outer bank of the moat opposite the little tower in which my friend was kept, and near the place where Master Page was apprehended, as I described before. They were to bring with them a rope, one end of which they were to tie to a stake; then we, from the leads on the top of the tower, would throw over to them a ball of lead with a stout string attached, such as men use for sewing up bales of goods. This they would find in the dark by the noise it would make in falling, and would attach the string to the free end of their rope, so that we, who retained one end of the string, would thus be able to pull the rope up. I ordered, moreover, that they should have on their breasts a white paper or handkerchief, that we might recognize them as friends before throwing out our string, and that they should come provided with a boat in which we might quickly make our escape.”

“When these arrangements had been made and a night fixed, yet my host wished that a less hazardous attempt should first be made, by trying whether my gaoler could be bribed to let me out, which he could easily do by permitting a disguise. John Lilly therefore offered him, on the part of a friend of mine, a thousand florins [100l.] on the spot, and a hundred florins [10l.] yearly for his life, if he would agree to favour my escape. The man would not listen to anything of the kind, saying he should have to live an outcast if he did so, and should be sure to be hanged if ever he was caught. Nothing, therefore, could be done with him in this line. So we went on with our preparations according to our previous plan; and the matter was commended to God with many prayers by all those to whom the secret was committed. One gentleman, indeed, heir to a large estate, made a vow to fast once a week during his life if I escaped safely. When the appointed night came, I prevailed on the gaoler, by entreaties and bribes, to allow me to visit my friend. So he locked us both in together with bolts and bars of iron as usual, and departed. But as he had also locked the inside door that led to the roof, we had to loosen the stone into which the bolt shot with our knives, or otherwise we could not get out. This we succeeded in doing at length, and mounted the leads softly and without a light, for a sentinel was placed in the garden every night, so that we durst not even speak to each other but in a very low whisper.”

“About midnight we saw the boat coming with our friends, namely, John Lilly, Richard Fulwood, and another, who had been my gaoler in the former prison, through whom they procured the boat, and who steered the boat himself. They neared the shore; but just as they were about to land, some one came out of one of the poor cottages thereabouts, and seeing their boat making for the shore, hailed them, taking them for fishermen. The man indeed returned to his bed without suspecting anything, but our boatmen durst not venture to land till they thought the man had gone to sleep again. They paddled about so long, however, that the time slipped away, and it became impossible to accomplish anything that night; so they returned by London Bridge. But the tide was now flowing so strongly, that their boat was forced against some piles there fixed to break the force of the water, so that they could neither get on nor get back. Meanwhile, the tide was still rising, and now came so violently on the boat that it seemed as if it would be upset at every wave. Being in these straits, they commended themselves to God by prayers, and called for help from men by their cries.”

“All this while we on the top of the tower heard them shouting, and saw men coming out on the bank of the river with candles, running up and getting into their boats to rescue those in danger. Many boats approached them, but none durst go up to them, fearing the force of the current.[^102] So they stood there in a sort of circle round them, spectators of their peril, but not daring to assist. I recognized Richard Fulwood's voice in the shouts, and said, ‘I know it is our friends who are in danger.’ My companion indeed did not believe I could distinguish any one's voice at that great distance;[^103] but I knew it well, and groaned inwardly to think that such devoted men were in peril of their lives for my sake. We prayed fervently, therefore, for them, for we saw that they were not yet saved, though many had gone to assist them. Then we saw a light let down from the bridge,[^104] and a sort of basket attached to a rope, by which they might be drawn up, if they could reach it. This it seems they were not able to do. But God had regard to the peril of His servants, and at last there came a strong sea-boat with six sailors, who worked bravely, and bringing their boat up to the one in danger, took out Lilly and Fulwood. Immediately they had got out, the boat they had left capsized before the third could be rescued, as if it had only kept right for the sake of the two who were Catholics. However, by God's mercy, the one who was thrown into the river caught a rope that was let down from the bridge, and was so dragged up and saved. So they were all rescued and got back to their homes.”

[^102: The number of piers in Old London Bridge was so large, and offered so great an obstruction to the water, that it was always a service of danger to pass under the arches while the tide was running, and often the river formed a regular cataract at this part.]

[^103: The distance would be something over half a mile.]

[^104: Our readers will remember that at this time each side of the bridge was lined with houses, which looked sheer down into the river.]

XX.

“On the following day[^105] John Lilly wrote me by the gaoler as usual. What could I expect him to say but this: ‘We see, and have proved it by our peril, that it is not God's will we should proceed any further in this business.’ But I found him saying just the contrary. For he began his letter as follows: ‘It was not the will of God that we should accomplish our desire last night; still He rescued us from a great danger, that we might succeed better the next time. What is put off is not cut off:[^106] so we mean to come again to-night, with God's help.’”

[^105: Oct. 4, 1597, says Father Bartoli (Inghilterra, p. 426) quoting Father Garnett's letter of Oct. 8.]

[^106: Quod differtur, non aufertur (MS.).]

“My companion, on seeing such constancy joined with such strong and at the same time pious affection, was greatly consoled, and did not doubt success. But I had great ado to obtain leave from the gaoler to remain another night out of my cell; and had misgivings that he would discover the loosening of the stone when he locked the door again. He, however, remarked nothing of it.”

“In the meantime I had written three letters to be left behind. One was to the gaoler, justifying myself for taking this step without a word to him; I told him I was but exercising my right, since I was detained in prison without any crime, and added that I would always remember him in my prayers, if I could not help him in any other way. I wrote this letter with the hope that if the man were taken into custody for my escape, it might help to show that he was not to blame. The second letter was to the Lieutenant, in which I still further exonerated the gaoler, protesting before God that he knew nothing whatever about my escape, which was, of course, perfectly true, and that he certainly would not have allowed it if he had suspected anything. This I confirmed by repeating the very tempting offer which had been made him and which he had refused. As to his having allowed me to go to another prisoner's cell, I said I had extorted it from him with the greatest difficulty by repeated importunities, and therefore it would not be right that he should suffer death for it. The third letter was to the Lords of the Council, in which I stated first the causes which moved me to the recovery of my liberty, of which I had been unjustly deprived. It was not so much the mere love of freedom, I said, as the love of souls which were daily perishing in England that led me to attempt the escape, in order that I might assist in bringing them back from sin and heresy. As for matters of State, as they had hitherto found me averse to meddling with them, so they might be sure that I should continue the same. Besides this, I exonerated the Lieutenant and gaoler from all consent to, or connivance at, my escape, assuring them that I had recovered my liberty entirely by my own and my friends' exertions. I prepared another letter also, which would be taken next morning to my gaoler, not, however, by John Lilly, but by another, as I shall narrate presently.”

“At the proper hour we mounted again on the leads. The boat arrived and put to shore without any interruption. The schismatic, my former gaoler, remained with the boat, and the two Catholics came with the rope. It was a new rope, for they had lost the former one in the river on occasion of their disaster. They fastened the rope to a stake, as I had told them; they found the leaden ball which we threw, and tied the string to the rope. We had great difficulty, however, in pulling up the rope, for it was of considerable thickness, and double too. In fact, Father Garnett ordered this arrangement, fearing lest, otherwise, the rope might break by the weight of my body. But now another element of danger showed itself, which we had not reckoned on: for the distance was so great between the tower and the stake to which the rope was attached, that it seemed to stretch horizontally rather than slopingly; so that we could not get along it merely by our weight, but would have to propel ourselves by some exertion of our own. We proved this first by a bundle we had made of books and some other things wrapped up in my cloak. This bundle we placed on the double rope to see if it would slide down of itself, but it stuck at once. And it was well it did; for if it had gone out of our reach before it stuck, we should never have got down ourselves. So we took the bundle back and left it behind.”

“My companion, who had before spoken of the descent as a thing of the greatest ease, now changed his mind, and confessed it to be very difficult and full of danger. ‘However,’ said he, ‘I shall most certainly be hanged if I remain now, for we cannot throw the rope back without its falling into the water, and so betraying us both and our friends. I will therefore descend, please God, preferring to expose myself to danger with the hope of freedom, rather than to remain here with good certainty of being hanged.’ So he said a prayer, and took to the rope. He descended fairly enough, for he was strong and vigorous, and the rope was then taut: his weight, however, slackened it considerably, which made the danger for me greater, and though I did not then notice this, yet I found it out afterwards when I came to make the trial.”

“So commending myself to God, to our Lord Jesus, to the Blessed Virgin, to my Guardian Angel, and all my Patrons, particularly to Father Southwell, who had been imprisoned near this place for nearly three years before his martyrdom, to Father Walpole, and to all our Saints, I took the rope in my right hand and held it also with my left arm; then I twisted my legs about it, to prevent falling, in such a way that the rope passed between my shins. I descended some three or four yards face downwards, when suddenly my body swung round by its own weight and hung under the rope. The shock was so great that I nearly lost my hold, for I was still but weak, especially in the hands and arms. In fact, with the rope so slack and my body hanging beneath it, I could hardly get on at all. At length, I made a shift to get on as far as the middle of the rope, and there I stuck, my breath and my strength failing me, neither of which were very copious to begin with. After a little time, the Saints assisting me, and my good friends below drawing me to them by their prayers, I got on a little further and stuck again, thinking I should never be able to accomplish it. Yet I was loath to drop into the water as long as I could possibly hold on. After another rest, therefore, I summoned what remained of my strength, and helping myself with legs and arms as well as I could, I got as far as the wall on the other side of the moat. But my feet only touched the top of the wall, and my whole body hung horizontally, my head being no higher than my feet, so slack was the rope. In such a position, and exhausted as I was, it was hopeless to expect to get over the wall by my own unaided strength. So John Lilly got on to the wall somehow or other (for, as he afterwards asserted, he never knew how he got there), took hold of my feet, and by them pulled me to him, and got me over the wall on to the ground. But I was quite unable to stand, so they gave me some cordial waters and restoratives, which they had brought on purpose. By the help of these I managed to walk to the boat, into which we all entered. They had, however, before leaving the wall, untied the rope from the stake and cut off a part of it, so that it hung down the wall of the tower. We had previously, indeed, determined to pull it away altogether, and had with this object passed it round a great gun on the tower without knotting it. But God so willed it that we were not able by any exertion to get it away; and if we had succeeded, it would certainly have made a loud splash in the water, and perhaps have brought us into a worse danger.”

“On entering the boat we gave hearty thanks to God, Who had delivered us from the hand of the persecutor and from all the expectation of the people; we returned our best thanks also to those who had exposed themselves to such labours and perils for our sakes. We went some considerable distance in the boat before landing. After we had landed I sent the gentleman, my companion, with John Lilly, to my house, of which I have before spoken, which was managed by that saintly widow, Mistress Line. I myself, however, with Richard Fulwood, went to a house which Father Garnett had in the suburbs; and there Little John and I, a little before daylight, mounted our horses, which he had ready there for the purpose, and rode straight off to Father Garnett, who was then living a short distance in the country.[^107] We got there by dinner-time, and great rejoicing there was on my arrival, and much thanksgiving to God at my having thus escaped from the hands of my enemies in the name of the Lord.”

[^107: This may very likely be White Webbs in Enfield Chase.]

“In the meanwhile I had sent Richard Fulwood with a couple of horses to a certain spot, that he might be ready to ride off with my gaoler, if he wished to consult his immediate safety. For I had a letter written, of which I made previous mention, which was to be taken to him early in the morning at the place where he was accustomed to meet John Lilly. Lilly, however, did not carry the letter, for I had bidden him remain quiet within doors until such time as the storm which was to be expected had blown over. So another, who also knew the gaoler, took the letter, and gave it to him at the usual meeting-place. He was indeed surprised at another's coming, but took the letter without remark, and was about to depart with the intention of delivering it to me as usual; but the other stopped him, saying, ‘The letter is for you, and not for any one else.’”

“‘For me?’ said the gaoler, ‘from whom then does it come?’”

“‘From a friend of yours,’ replied the other; ‘but who he is I don't know.’”

“The gaoler was still more astonished at this, and said, ‘I cannot myself read; if, then, it is a matter which requires immediate attention, pray read it for me.’”

“So the man that brought the letter read it for him. It was to the effect that I had made my escape from prison; and here I added a few words on the reasons of my conduct, for the purpose of calming his mind. Then I told him, that though I was nowise bound to protect him from the consequences, as I had but used my just right, yet, as I had found him faithful in the things which I had intrusted him with, I was loath to leave him in the lurch. If, therefore, he was inclined to provide for his own safety immediately, there was a horse waiting for him with a guide who would bring him to a place of safety, sufficiently distant from London, where I would maintain him for life, allowing him two hundred florins [20l.] yearly, which would support him comfortably. I added that if he thought of accepting this offer, he had better settle his affairs as quickly as possible, and betake himself to the place which the bearer of the letter would show him.”

“The poor man was, as may well be supposed, in a great fright, and accepted the offer; but, as he was about to return to the Tower to settle matters and get his wife away, a mate of his met him, and said, ‘Be off with you as quick as you can; for your prisoners have escaped from the little tower, and Master Lieutenant is looking for you everywhere. Woe to you if he finds you!’ So, returning all in a tremble to the bearer of the letter, he besought him for the love of God to take him at once to where the horse was waiting for him. He took him, therefore, and handed him over to Richard Fulwood, who was to be his guide. Fulwood took him to the house of a friend of mine residing at the distance of a hundred miles from London, to whom I had written, asking him, if such a person should come, to take him in and provide for him. I warned him, however, not to put confidence in him, nor to acknowledge any acquaintance with me. I told him that Richard Fulwood would reimburse him for all the expenses, but that he must never listen to the man if at any time he began to talk about me or about himself.”

“Everything was done as I had arranged; my friend received no damage, and the gaoler remained there out of danger. After a year he went into another county, and, becoming a Catholic, lived there comfortably for some five years with his family on the annuity which I sent him regularly according to promise. He died at the end of those five years, having been through that trouble rescued by God from the occasions of sin, and, as I hope, brought to Heaven. I had frequently in the prison sounded him in matters of religion; and though his reason was perfectly convinced, I was never able to move his will. My temporal escape, then, I trust, was by the sweet disposition of God's merciful providence the occasion of his eternal salvation.”

“The Lieutenant of the Tower, when he could not find either his prisoners or their gaoler, hastened to the Lords of the Council with the letters which he had found. They wondered greatly that I should have been able to escape in such a way; but one of the chief members of the Council, as I afterwards heard, said to a gentleman who was in attendance that he was exceedingly glad I had got off. And when the Lieutenant demanded authority and assistance to search all London for me, and any suspected places in the neighbourhood, they all told him it would be of no use. ‘You cannot hope to find him,’ said they; ‘for if he had such determined friends as to accomplish what they have, depend upon it they will have made further arrangements, and provided horses and hiding-places to keep him quite out of your reach.’ They made search, however, in one or two places, but no one of any mark was taken that I could ever hear of.”

“For my part, I remained quietly with Father Garnett for a few days, both to recruit myself and to allow the talk about my escape to subside. Then my former hosts, who had proved themselves such devoted friends, urged my return to them, first to their London house close to the Clink prison, where they were as yet residing. So I went to them, and remained there in secrecy, admitting but very few visitors; nor did I ever leave the house except at night, a practice I always observed when in London, though at this time I did even this very sparingly, and visited only a few of my chief friends.”

“At this time I also visited my house, which was then under the care of Mistress Line, afterwards martyred. Another future martyr was then residing there of whom I have previously spoken, namely, Mr. Robert Drury, Priest. In this house about this time I received a certain parson who had been chaplain to the Earl of Essex in his expedition against the Spanish King, when he took Cadiz. He was an eloquent man and learned in languages; and when converted to the Catholic faith he had abandoned divers great preferments, nay, had likewise endured imprisonment for his religion. Hearing that he had an opportunity of making his escape, I offered that he should come to my house. There I maintained him for two or three months, during which time I gave him the Spiritual Exercises. In the course of his retreat, he came to the determination of offering himself to the Society; upon which I asked him to tell me candidly how he, who had been bred up in Calvin's bosom as it were, had been accustomed to military life, and had learnt in heresy and had long been accustomed to prefer his own will to other people's, could bring himself to enter the Society, where he knew, or certainly should know, that the very opposite principles prevailed. To this he replied, ‘There are three things, in fact, which have especially induced me to take this step. First, because I see that heretics and evil livers hold the Society in far greater detestation than they do any other Religious Order; from which I judge that it has the Spirit of God in an especial degree, which the spirit of the devil cannot endure, and that it has been ordained by God to destroy heresy, and wage war against sin in general. Secondly, because all ecclesiastical dignities are excluded by its Constitutions, whence it follows that there is in it a greater certainty of a pure intention; and as its more eminent members are not taken from it for the Episcopate, it is more likely to retain its first fervour and its high estimation for virtue and learning. Thirdly, because in it obedience is cultivated with particular care, a virtue for which I have the greatest veneration, not only on account of the excellent effects produced thereby in the soul, but also because all things must needs go on well in a body where the wills of the members are bound together, and all are directed by God.’”

“These were his reasons; so I sent him into Belgium, that he might be forwarded to the College at Rome by Father Holt, giving him three hundred florins [30l.] for his expenses. I gave the Spiritual Exercises also to some others in that house before I gave it up, among whom was a pious and good Priest named Woodward, who also found a vocation to the Society, and afterwards passed into Belgium with the intention of entering it; but as there was a great want of English Priests in the army at the time, he was appointed to that work, and died in it, greatly loved and reverenced by all.”

“I did not, however, keep that house long after the recovery of my liberty, because it was now known to a large number of persons, and was frequented during my imprisonment by many more than I should have permitted if I had been free. My principal reason, however, for giving it up was because it was known to the person who had been the cause of my being sent to the Tower. He had indeed expressed sorrow for his act, and had written to me to beg my pardon, which I freely gave him; yet, as he was released from prison soon after my escape, and I found that those among whom he had lived had no very good opinion of his character, I did not think it well that a thing involving the safety of many should remain within his knowledge. Mistress Line, also, a woman of singular prudence and virtue, was of the same mind. So I determined to make other arrangements as soon as possible....”

“It seemed best, therefore, that Mistress Line should lodge for a space by herself in a hired room of a private house; while I, who did not wish to be without a place in London where I could safely admit some of my principal friends, and perhaps house a Priest from time to time, joined with a prudent and pious gentleman, who had a wife of similar character, in renting a large and spacious house between us. Half the house was to be for their use and the other half for mine, in which I had a fair chapel well provided and ornamented. Hither I resorted when I came to London, and here also I sent from time to time those I would, paying a certain sum for their board. In this way I expended scarce half the amount I did formerly under the other arrangement, when I was obliged to maintain a household whether there were any guests in the house or not; though indeed it was seldom that the house was empty of guests.”

“I made this new provision for my own and my friends' accommodation just in good time; for most certainly had I remained in my former house I should have been taken again. The thing happened in this wise. The Priest who, as I have related, got me promoted from a more obscure prison to a nobler one, began to importune me with continual letters that I would grant him an interview. Partly by delaying to answer him, partly by excusing myself on the score of occupation, I put him off for about half a year. At length he urged his request very pressingly, and complained to me by letter that I showed contempt of him. I sent him no answer, but on a convenient occasion, knowing where he lodged, I despatched a friend to him to tell him that if he wished to see me, he must come at once with the messenger. I warned the messenger, however, not to permit any delay, nor to allow him to write anything nor address any one on the way if he wished to have an interview with me. I arranged, moreover, that he should be brought not to any house, but to a certain field near one of the Inns of Court, which was a common promenade, and that the messenger should walk there alone with him till I came. It was at night, and there was a bright moon. I came there with a couple of friends, in case any attempt should be made against me, and making a half circuit outside (that he might not know in what part of London I lived), I happened to enter the field near the house of a Catholic which adjoined it; and our good friend catching first sight of me near this house, thought perhaps that I came out of it, and in fact the Archpriest was lodging in it at the time. However that may be, I found him there walking and waiting for me, and when I had heard all he had to say, I saw that there was nothing which he had not already said in his letters, and to which he had not had my answer. My suspicion was therefore increased, and certainly not without reason. For within a day or two that corner house near which he saw me enter the field, and my old house which I had lately left (though he knew not that I had left it), were both of them surrounded and strictly searched on the same night and at the same hour. The Archpriest was all but caught in the one; he had just time to get into a hiding-place, and so escaped.[^108] The search lasted two whole days in the other house, which the Priest knew me to have occupied at one time. The Lieutenant of the Tower and the Knight Marshal[^109] conducted the searches in person, a task they never undertake unless one of their prisoners has escaped. From these circumstances it is sufficiently clear, both of whom they were in search and from whom they got their information.”

[^108: Atkinson was not always so unsuccessful. Sir Robert Cecil endorsed the letter quoted in a former note, ‘Atkinson's letter, the Priest that discovered Tychburn and was brought me by Mr. Fouler.’ Thomas Tichburn suffered at Tyburn, April 20, 1601, for his Priesthood.]

[^109: The Knight Marshal had jurisdiction within the precincts of the Court, that is, twelve miles from the lodging of the Sovereign, even on a progress, though not a chase. The Marshalsea was the prison originally attached to the King's house, and at first was intended only for the committal of persons accused of offences within the jurisdiction of the Knight Marshal. It stood in High-street, Southwark, on the south side, between King-street and Mermaid-court, over against Union-street (Cunningham's Handbook of London, p. 316). Queen Elizabeth's Knight Marshal was Sir Thomas Gerard, already mentioned as created by King James Lord Gerard of Gerard's Bromley.]

“But when they found me not (nor indeed did they find the Priest who was then in the house, living with a Catholic to whom I had let it), they sent pursuivants on the next day to the house of my host, who had by this time returned to his country seat, but by God's mercy they did not find me there either. It was well, therefore, that I acted cautiously with the above-mentioned Priest, and also that I had so opportunely changed my residence in London.”

XXI.

“I saw also that it would soon be necessary for me to give up my present residence in the country, and betake myself elsewhere; otherwise those good and faithful friends of mine,” the Wisemans, “would always be suffering some annoyance for my sake. I proposed the matter, therefore, to them, but they refused to listen to me in this point, though in all other things they were most obedient. But I thought more of their peace than of their wishes, however pious these wishes were; and therefore I laid the matter before my Superior,[^110] who approved my views. So I obtained from Father Garnett another of ours, a pious and learned man, whom I had known at Rome, and who at that time was companion to Father Ouldcorne, of blessed memory; this was Father Richard Banks, now professed of four vows. I took him to live with me for a time, that I might by degrees introduce him into the family in my place; and in the meantime I made more frequent excursions than usual.”

[^110: About this time Father Garnett thought of sending Father Gerard out of England, evidently from fear lest, owing to his zeal, he should be recaptured and be still more hardly dealt with, for on March 31, 1598, he wrote to Rome, probably to Father Persons: ‘Father Gerard is much dismayed this day when I wrote to him to prepare himself to go. He came to me of purpose. Indeed he is very profitable to me, and his going would be wondered at. I hope he will walk warily enough.... You know my mind; if you think it good, I desire his stay. All the rest are well’ (Stonyhurst MSS., P., vol. ii., f. 551).]

“In one of these excursions I visited a noble family, by whom I had long been invited and often expected, but I had never yet been able to visit them on account of my pressing occupations. Here I found the lady of the house, a widow, very pious and devout, but at this present overwhelmed with grief at the loss of her husband. She had, indeed, been so affected by this loss that for a whole year she scarce stirred out of her chamber, and for the next three years which had intervened before my visit, had never brought herself to go to that part of the mansion in which her husband had died. To this grief and trouble were added certain anxieties about the bringing up of her son, who was yet a child under his mother's care. He was one of the first Barons of the realm; but his parents had suffered so much for the Faith, and had mortgaged so much of their property to meet the constant exactions of an heretical Government, that the remaining income was scarcely sufficient for their proper maintenance. But a wise woman builds up her house and is proved in it....”

This lady was Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Roper, who was raised to the peerage in 1616 as Lord Teynham. In 1590[^111] she married George, the second son of William, Lord Vaux of Harrowden, but her husband died in 1594, during the lifetime of his father. When in the following year her father-in-law also died, she was left in charge of her infant son, Edward fourth Baron Vaux.

[^111: P. R. O., Domestic, Eliz., vol. 233, n. 3.]

As she wished me to reside in her house, “on my return to London I proposed the matter to Father Garnett, who was much rejoiced at the offer, knowing the place to be one where much good might be done both directly and indirectly. He said, too, that the offer had occurred most opportunely, for that there were some Catholics in another county more to the north, where Catholics were more numerous and there was no Priest of the Society, who had been long petitioning for the Father at present stationed at that house, and who would much rejoice at the prospect of having him among them. To this I urged that the place was large enough for two, and that I very much desired to have a companion of the Society with me, and I requested that he would assign me Father John Percy, with whom I had become acquainted during my imprisonment, not indeed personally, but by frequent interchange of letters. This Father had been brought prisoner from Flanders to Holland,[^112] where he was recognized and tortured; he was afterwards thrown into the foul gaol of Bridewell, and after remaining there some time made a shift to escape from a window with another Priest, letting himself down with a rope. Mistress Line made him welcome in my house, where he tarried for a time; but soon after went down into the county of York, and dwelt there with a pious Catholic. In this part he made himself so dear to every one, that though I had Father Garnett's consent, it was a full year before I could get him away from them.”

[^112: ‘He was sent to Tournay for his Noviceship in 1594, and towards the end of his second year over-application had so injured his head that he had to be forbidden to use any kind of prayer. Sent to recruit in his native air, he passed through Holland on his way to England. At Flushing he was taken by some English soldiers. The letter he was carrying showing who he was, they threatened him with torture unless he would say who had brought him over from Rotterdam. He was ready to confess anything about himself, but he would say nothing of any one else; so, instead of offering, as he had hoped to do that day, the Sacrifice of the Body of Christ, he offered that of his own, to undergo anything rather than injure others. They hung him up by the hands to a pulley, and then tortured him by twisting a sailor's rope round his head. During the torture he fixed his mind on the eternity of either pain or joy, and uttered nothing but “O eternity!” The harm the soldiers tried to do him turned out a remedy; for the head-ache and singing in the head, from which he had suffered in the Noviceship, diminished from that time and gradually ceased. He was taken to London in custody and committed to Bridewell, where his cell was an utterly unfurnished turret. He bed was the brick floor and a little straw, till he was helped by the care and charity of his Catholic fellow-prisoners, and of our Father Gerard. The latter, who was in the Clink, kept up a secret correspondence with him, and came to his help both with his advice and money. After about seven months he succeeded in making his escape through the tiling, together with two other Priests and seven laymen’ (Father More, Historia Provinciæ, l. viii., c. 23).]

“Since now to the desire of this noble widow was added the approval of Father Garnett, I so settled my affairs as to provide amply for the security and advantage of my former hosts. For I left with them Father Banks, a most superior man in every respect; and although at first my old friends did not value him so much, yet, as they became better acquainted, they found that the good account I had given them was no more than the truth, and soon came to esteem him as a father. I often afterwards visited their house, where I had found so great faith and piety.”

“When I was domiciled in my new residence, I began by degrees to wean my hostess' mind from that excessive grief; showing how that we ought to mourn moderately only over our dead, and not to grieve like those who have no hope. I added that as her husband had become a Catholic before his death, one little prayer would do him more good than many tears; that our tears should be reserved for our own and others' sins, for our own souls stood in need of floods of that cleansing water, and it was to the concerns of our own souls that all our thoughts and labours should be turned. I then taught her the use of meditation, finding her quite capable of profiting by it, for her mental powers were of a very high order. I thus gradually brought her first to change that old style of grief for a more worthy one; then to give eternal concerns the preference over worldly matters; and to consider how she might transform her life, which before was good and holy, into better and holier, by endeavouring as much as she could to imitate the life of our Lord and of His Saints.”

“She was ready to set up her residence wherever I judged it best for the good of religion, whether in London,[^113] or in the most remote part of the island, as she often protested to me. I considered, however, that though a residence in or near London would be better for the gaining of souls, yet that it was not at present very safe for me; nor, indeed, could she remain there in private, since she was well known for a Catholic, and the Lords of the Council demanded from her frequent accounts of her son, the Baron, where and how he was educated. Moreover, as she had the management of her son's estate while he was a minor, stewards and bailiffs, and other such persons, must have constant communication with her; so that it was quite out of the question her living near London under an assumed name; yet this was absolutely necessary if a person wished to carry on the good work in that neighbourhood. It was thus those ladies did with whom Father Garnett lived so long, who were in fact sisters of this lady's deceased husband, one unmarried, the other a widow.[^114] I saw, therefore, no fitter place for her to fix her residence than where she was among her own people, where she had the chief people of the county connected with her and her son, either by blood or friendship.”

[^113: The confession of Ralph Myller (9 Oct. 1584) gives us an insight into the late Lord Vaux's London house: ‘This examinant did afterwards meet one Robert Browne, who hath an uncle a Priest with the Lord Vaux, who is a little man with white head, and a little brown hair on his face, goeth in an ash-colour doublet coat and a gown faced with cony, and he was made Priest long sithence at Cambray as this examinate thinketh. This examinant spoke with the Lord Vaux and with his lady at Hackney, after that his son, Mr. George, and the said Robert Browne had told him that this examinant was a tailor of Rhemes; and on Sunday was fortnight this examinant did hear Mass there, whereat were present about xviii. persons, being my lord's household, and the Priest last before named said the Mass. The said Priest lieth in a chamber beyond the hall, on the left hand the stair that leadeth to the chambers, and the Mass is said in the chapel, being right over the port entering into the hall; and the way into it is up the stair aforesaid, on the left hand, at the further end of the gallery: and there is a very fair crucifix of silver’ (P. R. O., Domestic, Eliz., vol. 173, n. 64).]

[^114: Anne Vaux and Eleanor, widow of Edward Brooksby, daughters of William third Lord Vaux, by his first wife, Elizabeth, daughter of John Beaumont of Gracedieu, in Leicestershire, Esq. The mother of George Vaux was Mary, sister of Sir Thomas Tresham, of Rushton, in Northamptonshire, Knight.]

“The only difficulty which remained was about the exact spot. The house in which she was actually living was not only old, but antiquated. It had been the residence of her husband's father, who had married a wife who was a better hand at spending than at gathering, and consequently the house was very poorly appointed for a family of their dignity. There was another and larger house of theirs at” Great Harrowden, “a distance of about three miles, which had been the old family seat. This had also been neglected, so that it was in some part quite ruinous, and not fit for our purpose, namely, to receive the Catholic gentry who might come to visit me. In addition to this, it was not well adapted for defence against any sudden intrusions of the heretics, and consequently we should not be able to be as free there as my hostess wished. Her desire was to have a house where we might as nearly as possible conform ourselves to the manner of life followed in our Colleges; and this in the end she brought about.”

“She sought everywhere for such a house, and we looked at many houses in the county; but something or other was always wanting to her wishes. At last we found a house which had been built by the late Chancellor of England,[^115] who had died childless, and was now to be let for a term of years. It was truly a princely place, large and well built, surrounded by gardens and orchards, and so far removed from other houses that no one could notice our coming in or going out. This house she took on payment of fifteen thousand florins [1,500l.], and began to fit it up for our accommodation. She wished to finish the alterations before we removed thither; but man proposes, and God disposes as He wills, though always for the best, and for the true good of His elect.”

[^115: Sir Christopher Hatton, who died childless, November 21, 1591, had built a country house at Stoke Pogis, Bucks (Campbell's Lives of the Chancellors, 3rd edit., vol. ii., p. 180).]

“When I came to the lady's house, she had a great number of servants, some heretics, others indeed Catholics, but allowing themselves too much liberty. By degrees things got into better order; some became Catholics; others, through public and private exhortations, became by the grace of God more fervent; and some, of whom there did not appear any hope of amendment, were dismissed. There was one who brought great trouble on us. For on one occasion when we were in London, either from thoughtlessness or loquacity, or because the yoke of a stricter discipline, now begun in the family, sat uneasily upon him, he said to a false brother that I had lately come to live at his lady's house, and had carried on such and such doings there; and that I was then in London at such a house, naming the house of which I rented half, as I have before said; he told him also that he himself had gone to that house with his lady at a time when she and I were in town on business connected with her son, and that he had seen the master and mistress of that house when they called on his lady, as they had often done. My hostess had now returned into the country with this servant, leaving me for a short time in town. But the man had left this tale behind him, which soon came to the ears of the Council, how that I had my residence with such a lady, and was at this moment at such a house in London. They instantly, therefore, commissioned two Justices of the Peace to search the house.”

“I, who had no inkling of such a danger, had remained in town for certain business, and was giving a retreat to three gentlemen in the house before mentioned. One of these three gentlemen was Master Roger Lee, now Minister in the English College of St. Omers. He was a gentleman of high family, and of so noble a character and such winning manners that he was a universal favourite, especially with the nobility, in whose company he constantly was, being greatly given to hunting, hawking, and all other noble sports. He was, indeed, excellent at everything, but he was withal a Catholic, and so bent on the study of virtue that he was meditating a retreat from the world and a more immediate following of Christ. He used frequently to visit me when I was in the Clink prison, and I clearly saw that he was called to greater things than catching birds of the air, and that he was meant rather to be a catcher of men. I had now, therefore, fixed a time with this gentleman and good friend of mine, in which he should seek out, by means of the Spiritual Exercises, the strait path that leads to life, under the guidance of Him Who is Himself the Way and the Life.”

“But while he and the others were engaged privately in their chambers in the study of this heroic philosophy, suddenly the storm burst upon us. I, too, in fact, after finishing my business in town, had taken the opportunity of a little quiet to begin my own retreat, giving out that I had returned into the country. I was now in the fourth or fifth day of the retreat, when about three o'clock in the afternoon John Lilly hurried to my room, and without knocking, entered with his sword drawn.”

“Surprised at this sudden intrusion, I asked what was the matter.”

“‘It is a matter of searching the house,’ he replied.”

“‘What house?’”

“‘This very house: and they are in it already!’”

“In fact, they had been cunning enough to knock gently, as friends were wont to do, and the servant opened readily to them, without the least suspicion until he saw them rush in and scatter themselves in all directions.”

“While John was telling me this, up came the searching party, together with the mistress of the house, to the very room in which we were. Now, just opposite to my room was the chapel, so that from the passage the door of the chapel opened on the one hand, and that of my room on the other. The magistrates, then, seeing the door of the chapel open, went in, and found there an altar richly adorned, and the priestly vestments laid out close by, so handsome as to cause expressions of admiration from the heretics themselves. In the meanwhile I, in the room opposite, was quite at my wit's end what to do; for there was no hiding-place in the room, nor any means of exit except by the open passage were the enemy were. However, I changed the soutane which I was wearing for a secular coat, but my books and manuscript meditations, which I had there in considerable quantities, I was quite unable to conceal.”

“We stood there with our ears close to the chink of the door, listening to catch what they said: and I heard one exclaim from the chapel, ‘Good God! what have we found here? I had no thoughts of coming to this house to-day!’ From this I concluded that it was a mere chance search, and that they had no special warrant. Probably, therefore, I thought they had but few men with them. So we began to consult together whether it were not better to rush out with drawn swords, seize the keys from the searching party, and so escape; for we should have Master Lee and the master of the house to help us, besides two or three men-servants. Moreover, I considered that if we should be taken in the house, the master would certainly be visited with a far greater punishment than what the law prescribes for resistance to a magistrate's search.”

“While we were thus deliberating, the searchers came to the door of my room and knocked. We made no answer, but pressed the latch hard down, for the door had no bolt or lock. As they continued knocking, the mistress of the house said, ‘Perhaps the man-servant who sleeps in that room may have taken away the key. I will go and look for him.’”

“‘No, no,’ said they, ‘you go nowhere without us, or you will be hiding away something.’”

“And so they went with her, not staying to examine whether the door had a lock or not. Thus did God blind the eyes of the Assyrians, that they should not find the place, nor the means of hurting His servants, nor know where they were going.”

“When they had got below-stairs, the mistress of the house, who had great presence of mind, took them into a room in which some ladies were, the sister, namely, of my hostess in the country, and Mistress Line; and while the magistrates were questioning these ladies, she ran up to us, saying, ‘Quick, quick! get into the hiding-place!’ She had scarce said this and run down again, before the searchers had missed her and were for remounting the stairs. But she stood in their way on the bottom step, so that they immediately suspected what the case was, and were eager to get past. This, however, they could not do without laying forcible hands on the lady, a thing which, as gentlemen, they shrank from doing. One of them, however, as she stood there purposely occupying the whole width of the stair-way, thrust his head past her, in hopes of seeing what was going on above-stairs. And indeed he almost caught sight of me as I passed along to the hiding-place. For as soon as I heard the lady's words of warning, I opened the door, and with the least possible noise mounted from a stool to the hiding-place, which was arranged in a secret gable of the roof. When I had myself mounted, I bade John Lilly come up also, but he, more careful of me than of himself, refused to follow me, saying: ‘No, Father; I shall not come. There must be some one to own the books and papers in your room; otherwise, upon finding them, they will never rest till they have found you too: only pray for me.’”

“So spoke this truly faithful and prudent servant, so full of charity as to offer his life for his friend. There was no time for further words. I acquiesced reluctantly and closed the small trap-door by which I had entered, but I could not open the door of the inner hiding-place, so that I should infallibly have been taken if they had not found John Lilly, and mistaking him for a Priest ceased from any further search. For this was what happened, God so disposing it, and John's prudence and intrepidity helping thereto.”

“For scarcely had he removed the stool by which I mounted, and had gone back to the room and shut the door, when the two chiefs of the searching party again came upstairs and knocked violently at the door, ready to break it open if the key were not found. Then the intrepid soldier of Christ threw open the door and presented himself undaunted to the persecutors.”

“‘Who are you?’ they asked.”

“‘A man, as you see,’ he replied.”

“‘But what are you? Are you a Priest?’”

“‘I do not say I am a Priest,’ replied John; ‘that is for you to prove. But I am a Catholic certainly.’”

“Then they found there on the table all my meditations, my breviary, and many Catholic books, and what grieved me most of all to lose, my manuscript sermons and notes for sermons, which I had been writing or compiling for the last ten years, and which I made more account of, perhaps, than they did of all their money. After examining all these they asked whose they were.”

“‘They are mine,’ said John.”

“‘Then there can be no doubt you are a Priest. And this cassock, whose is this?’”

“‘That is a dressing-gown, to be used for convenience now and then.’”

“Convinced now that they had caught a Priest, they carefully locked up all the books and papers in a box, to be taken away with them. Then they locked the chapel door and put their seal upon it, and taking John by the arm they led him downstairs, and delivered him into the custody of their officers. Now when he entered with his captors into the room where the ladies were, he, who at other times was always wont to conduct himself with humility and stand uncovered in such company, now, on the contrary, after saluting them, covered his head and sat down. Nay, assuming a sort of authority, he said to the magistrates: ‘These are noble ladies; it is your duty to treat them with consideration. I do not, indeed, know them, but it is quite evident that they are entitled to the greatest respect.’”

“I should have mentioned that there was a second Priest in the house with me, Father Pullen,[^116] an old man, who had quite lately made his noviceship at Rome. He luckily had a hiding-place in his room, and had got into it at the first alarm.”

[^116: Patrem Pulvium (MS.). We give the English form of the name on the authority of Dr. Oliver, in his Collectanea, s.v. Pullen.]

“The ladies, therefore, now perceiving that I was safe, and that the other Priest had also escaped, and seeing also John's assumed dignity, could scarce refrain from showing their joy. They made no account now of the loss of property, or the annoyance they should have to undergo from the suspicion of having had a Priest in the house. They wondered indeed and rejoiced, and almost laughed to see John playing the Priest, for so well did he do it as to deceive those deceivers, and divert them from any further search.”

XXII.

“The magistrates who had searched the house took away John Lilly with them, and the master of the house also with his two men-servants, under the idea that all his property would be confiscated for harbouring a Priest.[^117] The ladies, however, represented that they had merely come to pay an after-dinner visit to the mistress of the house, without knowing anything about a Priest being there; so they were let off on giving bail to appear when summoned. The same favour was ultimately shown to Master Roger Lee, though it was with greater difficulty the magistrates could be persuaded that he was only a visitor. At last, then, they departed well satisfied, and locked up their prisoners for the night to wait their morrow's examination.”

[^117: In the Public Record Office there is a letter, dated July 22, 1599, purporting to be from Francis Cordale to his partner Balthasar Gybels, at Antwerp, which says, ‘I wrote to you of one Mr. Heywood's house searched and a man there taken. I have learned his name since to be John Lilly. He is sent to the Tower upon suspicion of helping Gerard the Jesuit out of the same place’ (Domestic, Eliz., vol. 271, n. 107).]

“Immediately on their departure, the mistress of the house and those other ladies came with great joy to give me notice; and we all joined in giving thanks to God, Who had delivered us all from such imminent danger by the prudence and fidelity of one. Father Pullen and I removed that very night to another place, lest the searchers should find out their error and return.”

“The next day I made a long journey to my hostess' house in the country, and caused much fear, and then much joy, as I related all that God had done for us. Then we all heartily commended John Lilly to God in prayer. And, indeed, there was reason enough to do so. For the magistrates, making full inquiries the next day, found that John had been an apothecary in London for seven years, and then had been imprisoned in the Clink for eight or nine more, and that he had been the person who had communicated with me in the Tower, for the gaoler's wife had been apprehended after her husband's flight, and had confessed so much. They saw, therefore, clearly that they had been tricked, and that John was not a Priest, but a Priest's servant; and they now began to have a shrewd suspicion, though rather too late, that I had been hidden at the time in the same house where they caught him, especially as they found so many books and writings which they did not doubt were mine. They sent, therefore, to search the house again, but they found only an empty nest, for the birds were flown.”

“John was carried to the Tower and confined there in chains. Then they examined him about my escape, and about all the places he had been to with me since. He, seeing that his dealings with the gaoler were already known to them, and desirous (if God would grant him such a favour), to lay down his life for Christ, freely confessed that it was he who had compassed my deliverance, and that he took great pleasure in the thought of having done so; he added that he was in the mind to do the same again if occasion required and opportunity offered. The gaoler, however, he exonerated, and protested that he was not privy to the escape. With regard to the places where he had been with me, he answered (as he had been often taught to do) that he would bring no one into trouble, and that he would not name a single place, for to do so would be a sin against charity and justice. Upon this they said they would not press him any further in words, but would convince him by deeds that he must tell them all they wanted. John replied: ‘It is a thing that, with the help of God, I will never do. You have me in your power; do what God permits you.’”

“Then they took him to the torture-chamber, and hung him up in the way I have before described, and tortured him cruelly for the space of three hours. But nothing could they wring from him that they could use either against me or against others, so that from that time they gave up all hope of obtaining anything against any one from him either by force or fear. Consequently they tortured him no more, but kept him in the closest custody for about four months to try and tire him into compliance. Failing also in this, and seeing that their pains availed them nothing, they sent him to another prison, where prisoners are usually sent who are awaiting execution, and probably it was their intention to deal that way with him, but God otherwise determined. For after a long detention here, and having been allowed a little communication with other Catholic prisoners, he was asked by a certain Priest to assist him in making his escape. Turning his attention, therefore, to the matter, he found a way by which he delivered both the Priest and himself from captivity.”

“I ought not, however, to omit an incident that happened during his detention in the Tower, since it is in such things that the dealings of God's providence are often to be very plainly recognized. While he was under examination about me and others of the Society, Wade, who was at that time the chief persecutor, asked him if he knew Garnett. John said he did not.”

“‘No?’ said Wade, with a sour smile; ‘and you don't know his house in the Spital[^118] either, I dare say! I don't mind letting you know,’ he continued, ‘now that I have you safe, that I am acquainted with his residence, and that we are sure of having him here in a day or two to keep you company. For when he comes to London he puts up at that house, and then we shall catch him.’”

[^118: Tali loco qui vocatur Spitell (MS). Spitalfields, a district without Bishopsgate, once belonged to the Priory and Hospital of St. Mary Spital, founded in 1197, in the parish of St. Botolph (Cunningham's Handbook of London, p. 463).]

“John knew well that the house named was Father Garnett's resort, and was in great distress to find that the secret had been betrayed to the enemy; and, though kept as close as possible, yet he managed in a few days by God's good providence to get an opportunity of sending some little article wrapped up in blank paper to a friend in London. His friend on receiving it carefully smoothed out the paper and held it to the fire, knowing that John would be likely to communicate by the means of orange-juice if he had the opportunity, and there he found it written that this residence of Father Garnett's had been betrayed, and that Father Garnett must be warned of it. This was instantly done, and in this way the Father was saved, for otherwise he would assuredly, as Wade had said, have betaken himself to that house in a day or two. Now, however, he not only did not go, but took all his things away, so that when the house was searched they found nothing. Had it not been for this providential warning from our greatest enemy, they would have found plenty; they would have found him, his books, altar furniture, and other things of a similar nature. Father Garnett, then, escaped this time by John's good help, as I had done previously.”

“After his escape John came to me, but though I desired much to keep him, it was out of the question, for he was now so marked a man that his presence would have been a continual danger for me and all my friends. For I was wont in the country to go openly to the houses of Catholic gentlemen, and it might well happen that John might come across persons that knew him, and would know me through him. Whereas but very few of the enemy knew me, for I was always detained in close custody, and none but Catholics saw me in prison, nay, such Catholics only as I knew to be specially trustworthy. I had, indeed, been examined publicly in London several times, but the persons concerned in the examinations very seldom left town, and if they had done so I should have been warned of it instantly, and should have taken good care never to trust myself in their neighbourhood. So I put John with Father Garnett, to stay in quiet hiding for a time; and when opportunity offered sent him over to Father Persons, that he might obtain, what he had long hoped for, admission to the Society. He was admitted at Rome,[^119] and lived there for six or seven years as a Lay-brother, much esteemed, I believe, by everybody. I can on my part testify about him to the greater glory of God, and that the more allowably because I believe he has died in England before this present writing, whither he returned with a consumption on him: I can, I say, testify that for nearly six years that he was with me in England, and had his hands full of business for me, though he had to do with all sorts of men in all sorts of places (for while I was engaged upstairs with the gentry and nobility, he was associating downstairs with the servants, often very indifferent characters), yet the whole of this time he so guarded his heart and his soul that I never found him to have been even in danger of mortal sin. Truly his was an innocent soul, and endowed with great prudence and cleverness.”

[^119: John Lilly entered the Society Feb. 2, 1602, æt. 37 (Bartoli, Inghilterra, p. 429).]

“But now that I have brought the history of John Lilly to its close, it is time to return to myself, who, having just escaped one danger, had like to have fallen into a second and still greater one, had not God again interposed His hand.”

XXIII.

“I mentioned just now that one of my hostess' servants told a friend of his, but an enemy of ours, that I habitually resided at his mistress' house, and that at that particular time I was at such a house in London. How this house was searched, and how they seized my companion and my manuscripts, but missed me, I have related. The Council, therefore, now knowing my residence in the country, issued a commission to some Justices of the Peace in that county to search this lady's house for a Priest. It had, in fact, began to be talked of in the county that she had taken this grand house in order that she might harbour Priests there in larger numbers and with greater freedom, because it was more private; and in this people were not far wrong.”

“Now at this time, that is, soon after my return from London, we had driven over to the new house to make arrangements for our removal thither, and with the special object of determining where to construct hiding-places. To this end we had Little John with us, whom I have before mentioned as very clever at constructing these places, and whom Father Garnett had lent to us for a time for this purpose. Having made all the necessary arrangements we left Little John behind, and Hugh Sheldon also to help him, who is now at Rome with Father Persons in the room of John Lilly. These two, whom we had always found most faithful, were to construct the hiding-places, and to be the only ones beside ourselves to know anything about them. The rest of us, however, returned the same day to our hostess' own house, and by the advice of one of the servants, God so disposing it, we came back a different way, as being easier for the carriage. Had we returned by the way we went, the searchers would have come early to the house where we were, and most probably catching us entirely unprepared, would have found what they came to seek. The fact was that the road by which we went to the new house ran through a town, where some of the enemy were on the watch and had seen us pass, but not seeing us return they concluded that we were spending the night at the new house, and went there the first thing in the morning to search.”

“But the house was so large that, although they had a numerous body of followers, they were not able to surround it entirely, nor to watch all the outlets so narrowly, but what Little John managed to make off safely. Hugh Sheldon they caught, but could get nothing out of him, so they sent him afterwards to prison at Wisbech, and from thence later to some other prison in company with many Priests, and at last in the same good company into exile.”

“When, however, the Justices found that they were wrong, and that the lady had returned home the previous day, they retraced their steps and came as fast as their horses could carry them to the old house. They arrived at our dinner-hour, and being admitted by the carelessness of the porter, got into the hall before we had any warning. Now as the lady of the house was a little indisposed that morning, we were going to take our dinner in my room, that is, Father Percy, myself, and Master Roger Lee, who had come down from London to finish his retreat which had been so rudely interrupted before. So when I heard who had come, that they were in the great hall, and that his lordship himself, who was indeed but a boy at that time, could not prevent them from intruding into his room, though he was also unwell, I made a pretty shrewd guess what they had come about, and snatching up such things as wanted hiding I made the best of my way to the hiding-place, together with Father Percy and Master Roger Lee. For it would not do for this latter to have been found here, especially as he had already been found in the house in London where I was known to have been, and would therefore have given good reason to think that I was here also. But we had to pass by the door of the room in which the enemy were as yet waiting, and exclaiming that they would wait no longer. Nay, one of the pursuivants opened the door and looked out; and some of the servants said that he must have seen me as I passed. But God certainly interposed, for it was surely not to be expected from natural causes that men who had come eager to search the house at once, and were loudly declaring they would do so, should stay in a room where they were not locked in, just as long as was necessary for us to hide ourselves, and then come forth as if they had been let loose, intrude upon the lady of the house, and course through all the rooms like bloodhounds after their prey. I cannot but think that this was the finger of God, Who would not that the good intentions of this lady should be so soon frustrated, but rather wished by so evident a display of His providence to confirm her in her determinations, and preserve her for many more good works.”

“The authorities searched the house thoroughly the whole day, but found nothing. At last they retired disappointed, and wrote to the Council what they had done. We soon discovered who had done the mischief (for he had not done it secretly) and discharged him, but without unkindness. I gave out also that I should quit the place altogether, and for a time we practised particular caution in all points.”

“In consequence of this mishap it became impossible for us to remove to the new house. For those same Justices, who were pestilent heretics, and several others in the same county, Puritans, declared they would never suffer her ladyship to live at peace if she came there, as her only object was to harbour Priests. Being deterred, therefore, from that place, but not from her design, she set about fitting up her own present residence for that same purpose, and built us separate quarters close to the old chapel, which had been erected anciently by former Barons of the family to hear Mass in when the weather might make it unpleasant to go to the parish church. Here, then, she built a little wing of three stories for Father Percy and me. The place was exceedingly convenient, and so free from observation that from our rooms we could step out into the private garden, and thence through spacious walks into the fields, where we could mount our horses and ride whither we would.”

“As we lived here safely and quietly, I frequently left Father Percy at home, and made excursions to see if I could establish similar centres of operation among other families; and in this Father Roger Lee (to give him his present title) helped me not a little. He first took me to the house of a relation of his, who lived in princely splendour, and whose father was one of the Queen's Council. This young nobleman was a schismatic, that is, a Catholic by conviction, but conforming externally to the State religion; and there seemed no hope of getting him any further, for he contented himself with velleities, and was fearful of offending his father. His wife, however, who was a heretic, had begun to listen with interest to Catholic doctrine, so that there was hope she might in time be brought into the Church. Their house was full of heretic servants, and there was a constant coming and going of heretic gentry either on business or on visit; it was therefore imperatively necessary that, as I could only go there publicly, I should well conceal my purpose.”

“We paid a visit, then, to this house, and were made very welcome, Master Lee for his own sake, as being much beloved, and I for his. On the first day I looked in vain for an opportunity of a conversation with the lady of the house, for there was always some one by. We were obliged to play at cards to pass the time, as those are wont to do who know not the eternal value of time, or at least care not for it. On the next day, however, as the lady of the house stept aside once to the window to set her watch, I joined her there, and after talking a little about the watch, passed on to matters which I had more in view, saying I wished we took as much pains to set our souls in order as we did our watches. She looked up at me in pure surprise to hear such things from my lips; and as I saw I might never get a better opportunity than the present, I began to open a little further, and told her that I had come there with Master Lee specially for her sake, hearing from him that she took interest in matters of religion, and that I was ready to explain the Catholic doctrine to her, and satisfy all the doubts she could possibly have; moreover, that I could point out the way to a height of virtue which she had hitherto never dreamt of, for that in heresy she could neither find that way, nor any who made account of it. She was struck with what I said, and promised to find some opportunity for further conversation, when we might speak more fully on the matter. I gave her this hint of a higher virtue, because she had been represented to me, as she really was, as a lady of most earnest and conscientious character.”

“She found the time according to her promise; all her difficulties were removed, and she became a Catholic. After reconciling her to the Church, I made some other converts in the same house; then I recommended her a Catholic maid, and suggested that she should keep a Priest always in the house, to which she gladly assented. This was a thing that might easily be managed, not indeed as it was in our house, where the whole household was Catholic, and knew us to be Priests; but a Priest could well live in the upper part of the house, from which all heretics might be kept away, especially now that some of the servants were Catholics. And, indeed, the accommodation was such that I do not know any place in England where a Priest who wished to be private could live more conveniently. For he could have, in the first place, a fine room to himself, opening on a spacious corridor of some eighty paces, which looked on a garden, the laying out of which had cost, as I was told, ten thousand florins [1,000l.]; in this corridor, moreover, was a separate room, which would serve excellently as a chapel, and another for his meals, with fire-places and every convenience. It was a pity, I said, that such a place had not a resident Priest, where the mistress was a devout Catholic, and the master no enemy to religion. Her husband, indeed, made no difficulty of receiving Priests; nay, he sometimes came to hear me preach, and at last went so far as to be fond of dressing the altar with his own hands, and of saying the breviary: yet with all this he still remains outside the ark, liable to be swept off by the waters of the deluge when they break forth, for he presumes too much on an opportunity of doing penance before death.”

“The lady then readily fell in with my suggestion of having a Priest in her house; so I brought thither Father Antony Hoskins, a man of great ability, who had lately come over from Spain, where he had spent ten years in the Society with remarkable success in his studies. Being placed there, he did a great deal of good on all sides, and remained with them almost up to the present time, when at length he has been removed and put to greater things. He did not, however, stay constantly at home, for he is a man whom, when once known, many would wish to confer with, so that he was forced to go about at times. At present there is another Father in the house, a most devoted man. But the lady directs herself chiefly by Father Percy, who this very week addressed me a letter in the following words:—‘Such a one’ (meaning this lady of whom I have been speaking) ‘is going on very well. She has put her whole house under the protection of our Blessed Lady of Loretto, and offers her heart to her, to serve her and her Son for ever, with all that she possesses; and in token of this she has had made a beautiful heart of gold, which she wishes to send to Loretto by the first opportunity. We desire, therefore, to hear from you by whom she can send this offering.’ Thus he writes about this lady. In this way then, by the grace of God, was this house, with its domestic church, established and confirmed in the Faith.”

“Master Roger also introduced me to some neighbours of his; among others to a gentleman of the Queen's Court,”[^120] Sir Everard Digby, “who had inherited a large estate, and had married a lady who was sole heiress to all her father's property,” Mary Mulshaw, of Gothurst, in Buckinghamshire. “Not one of this family was a Catholic, nor even inclined to the Catholic faith. The wife's father, who was the head of the house, was a thorough heretic, and had his thoughts entirely occupied in hoarding money for his daughter, and increasing her revenues. His son-in-law devoted himself wholly to juvenile sports. When in London, he attended at Court, being one of the Queen's gentlemen pensioners; but in the country he spent almost his whole time in hunting and hawking. Hence it happened that Master Roger Lee, who was a neighbour of his, and fond of similar sports, often joined him on such occasions, and brought his falcons to hawk in company. We two, therefore, took advantage of this acquaintanceship, and I was introduced to this gentleman's house as a friend and intimate of Master Lee's. We made frequent visits there, and took every opportunity of speaking of Catholic doctrine and practice. I took care, however, that Master Lee should always speak more frequently and more earnestly than I, that no suspicion might arise about my real character. Indeed, so far was this gentleman from having the least suspicion about me, that he seriously asked Master Lee whether he thought I was a good match for his sister, whom he wished to see married well, and to a Catholic, for he looked on Catholics as good and honourable men.”

[^120: In the margin of the MS. is written “Digbæus,” in the same hand as the text.]

“We had, therefore, as I said, frequent converse on matters of salvation; and the wife was the first to listen with any fruit, at a time when she was living in the country but her husband was up in town. Her parents were now dead, and she was mistress of the house, so that we were able to deal more directly with her. At last she came to the point of wishing to be a Catholic, and told me she should be glad to speak with a Priest. I could scarce forbear a smile at this. I answered, however, that the thing might be managed, and that I would speak with Master Lee on the subject. ‘In the meantime,’ I added, ‘I can teach you the way to examine your conscience, as I myself was taught to do it by an experienced Priest.’ So I told Master Roger that as she was now determined and prepared, he might inform her of my being a Priest. This he did, but she for some time refused to believe it, saying, ‘How is it possible he can be a Priest? Has he not lived among us rather as a courtier? Has he not played at cards with my husband, and played well too, which is impossible for those not accustomed to the game? Has he not gone out hunting with my husband, and frequently in my hearing spoken of the hunt and of the hawks in proper terms, without tripping, which no one could but one who has been trained to it?’”

“Many other things she adduced to show I could not be a Priest: to all of which Master Lee replied, ‘It is true that he said and did what you say; and unless he had done so, how could he have gained entrance here, and conversed with you, and by his conversation brought you to the Faith? For if he had presented himself as a Priest (which he would much prefer, were it feasible), how would your father, who was then living, have allowed his introduction, or you yourselves?’”

“She could not but admit the truth of this; yet she found it hard to believe that it was so. ‘I pray you,’ she said, ‘not to be angry with me, if I ask further whether any other Catholic knows him to be a Priest but you. Does so-and-so know him?’”

“‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘and goes to confession to him.’”

“Then she mentioned other names, and at last that of my hostess, who lived in the neighbourhood, but ten miles off.”

“‘Does she, too, know him as a Priest, and deal with him as such?’”

“‘Why,’ said Master Lee, ‘she not only knows him as a Priest, but has given herself, and all her household, and all that she has, to be directed by him, and takes no other guide but him.’”

“Then at length she confessed herself satisfied.”

“‘You will find him, however,’ added Master Lee, ‘quite a different man when he has put off his present character.’”

“This she acknowledged the next day, when she saw me in my soutane and other priestly garments, such as she had never before seen. She made a most careful confession, and came to have so great an opinion of my poor powers, that she gave herself entirely to my direction, meditated great things, which, indeed, she carried out, and carries out still.”

“When this matter was thus happily terminated, we all three consulted together, how we could induce her husband to enter also into St. Peter's net. Now, it so happened that he had fallen sick in London, and his wife on hearing it determined to go and nurse him. We, however, went up before her, and, travelling more expeditiously, had time to deal with him before she came. I spoke to him of the uncertainty of life, and the certainty of misery, not only in this life, but especially in the next, unless we provided against it: and I showed him that we have here no abiding city, but must look for one to come. As affliction oftentimes brings sense, so it happened in his case; for we found but little difficulty in gaining his goodwill. And as he was a man of solid sense and excellent heart, he laid a firm foundation from the beginning. He prepared himself well for confession, after being taught the way; and when he learnt that I was a Priest, he felt no such difficulty in believing as his wife had done, because he had known similar cases; but he rather rejoiced at having found a confessor who had experience among persons of his rank of life, and with whom he could deal at all times without danger of its being known that he was dealing with a Priest. After his reconciliation, he began on his part to be anxious about his wife, and wished to consult with us how best to bring her to the Catholic religion. We both smiled at this, but said nothing at that time, determining to wait till his wife came up to town, that we might witness how each loving soul would strive to win the other.”

“Certainly they were a favoured pair. Both gave themselves wholly to God's service, and the husband afterwards sacrificed all his property, his liberty, nay, even his life, for God's Church, as I shall relate hereafter. For this was that Sir Everard Digby, Knight, of whom later on I should have had to say many things, if so much had not been already written and published about him and his companions. But never in any of these writings has justice been done to the sincerity of his intention, nor the circumstances properly set forth which would put his conduct in its true light.”

“After this they both came to see me at my residence in the country. But while there he was again taken ill, and that so violently and dangerously, that all the Oxford doctors despaired of his life. As, therefore, in all likelihood he had not long to live, he began to prepare himself earnestly for a good death, and his wife to think of a more perfect way of life. For some days she gave herself to learn the method of meditation, and to find out God's will with regard to her future life, how she might best direct it to His glory. To be brief, she came to this determination, that if her husband should die, she would devote herself entirely to good works, observe perpetual chastity and exact obedience; that as for her property, which would be very extensive as they were without children, she would spend it all in pious uses according to my direction; she would herself live where and in what style I judged best for the advancement of God's honour and the good of her own soul; and she added that her desire was to wear poor clothing wherever she might be, and observe all the rules of poverty. All this was to be while the persecution might last in England. If, however, it should cease, and England should become Catholic, then she would give her house (a very large and fine one), and all the property her father left her, for the foundation of a College of the Society: and this would have been amply sufficient for a first-rate foundation.”

“This was her resolution, but God had otherwise arranged, and for that time happily. For when all the Oxford doctors gave up Sir Everard's case as hopeless, I, who loved him much, did not lose heart, but without his knowledge I sent for a certain Cambridge doctor, a Catholic, and a man of much learning and experience, whom I had known to cure cases abandoned by other physicians. On his arrival at our house, where Sir Everard Digby then was with his wife, after telling him all about the patient, I got him to examine the sick man himself, and learn from him all about his habit of body and general constitution. Then I asked him if he thought there was any hope. He answered, ‘If Sir Everard will venture to put himself entirely in my hands, I have good hopes, with the help of God, of bringing him round.’”

“The patient on hearing this said to me, ‘Since this doctor is known to your Reverence, and is chosen by you, I give myself willingly into his hands.’”

“By this doctor, then, he was cured beyond all expectation, and so completely restored to perfect health that there was not a more robust or stalwart man in a thousand. He was a most devoted friend to me, just as if he had been my twin-brother. And this name of brother we always used in writing to each other. How greatly he was attached me, may be seen from the following incident. Once when I had gone to a certain house to assist a soul in agony, he got to learn that I was in great danger there: upon this he at first expressed a terrible distress, and then immediately said to his wife that if I should be taken, he was resolved to watch the roads by which I should be carried prisoner to London, and take with him a sufficient number of friends and servants to rescue me by force from those who had me in custody; and if he should miss me on the road, he would accomplish my release one way or another, even though he should spend his whole fortune in the venture. Such, then, was his attachment to me at that time, and this he retained always in the same—nay, rather in an increased—degree to the end of his life; as he showed by the way he spoke of me when pleading for his life before the public court. At this time, however, as I said, he was restored to health; and he and his wife got together a little domestic church after the pattern of that in our own house, and built a chapel with a sacristy, furnishing it with costly and beautiful vestments, and obtained a Priest of the Society for their chaplain, who remained with them to Sir Everard's death.”

“What was done by this family was done by others also. For many of the Catholic gentry coming to our house, and seeing the arrangements and manner of life, followed the example themselves, establishing a sort of congregation in each of their houses, providing handsome altar furniture, making convenient arrangements for the residence of Priests, and showing especial respect and reverence to them.”

“Among those who came to this determination was a certain lady resident near Oxford, whose husband was indeed a Catholic, but overmuch devoted to worldly pursuits. She, however, gave herself to be directed by me as far as she could, having such a husband. I often visited them, and was always welcomed by both; and there I established one of our Fathers, Edward Walpole, whom I mentioned at an early part of this narrative as having left a large patrimony for the sake of following Christ our Lord, in the first year of my residence in England.”

“There was another lady also who had a similar wish: she was a relative of my hostess, and she also resided in the county of Oxford. Her husband was a Knight of very large property, who hoped to be created a Baron, and still hopes for it. This lady came on a visit to our house, and wished to learn the way of meditating, which I taught her; but as her husband was a heretic, it was impossible for her to have a Priest in her house, as she greatly wished. She took, however, the resolution of supporting a Priest, who should come to her at convenient times. She resolved, also, to make a meditation every day, and to give one or two hours daily to spiritual reading, when she had no guests in the house. On her coming to me every six months, I found that she had never omitted her meditation, nor her daily examination of conscience, except on one occasion when her husband insisted on her staying with the guests. Yet she had a large and busy household to superintend, and a continual coming and going of guests.”

“It happened on one occasion when I was in this lady's house, and was sitting with her after dinner, the servants having gone down to get their own dinner, that suddenly a guest was shown up who had just arrived. This was an Oxford Doctor of Divinity, a heretic of some note and a persecutor of Catholics; his name was Dr. Abbot.[^121] He had just before this published a book against Father Southwell, who had been executed, and Father Gerard, who had escaped from the Tower, because these two had defended the doctrine of equivocation, which he chose to impugn. After this publication, the good man had been made Dean of Winchester, a post which brought him in a yearly income of eight thousand florins [800l.]. This man then, as I said, was shown up, and entered the dining-room, dressed in a sort of silk soutane coming down to his knees, as is the manner of their chief ministers. We were in appearance sitting at cards, though when the servants had all left the room we had laid the cards down to attend to better things. Hearing, however, this gentleman announced, we resumed our game, so that he found us playing, with a good sum of money on the table.”

[^121: George Abbot was appointed Dean of Winton in 1559, in 1609 Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, from which in about a month he was translated to London, and thence in 1611 to Canterbury. In July, 1621, as he was shooting at a deer with a cross-bow, he shot the keeper, for which King James gave him a dispensation. In 1627 he was sequestered from his office, and his metropolitan jurisdiction put into commission, but about a year after he was restored. He died at Croydon, Aug. 4, 1633, æt. 71.]

“I may here mention, that when I played thus with Catholics, with the view of maintaining among a mixed company the character in which I appeared, I always agreed that each one should have his money back afterwards, but should say an Ave Maria for each piece that was returned to him. It was on these terms that I frequently played with my brother Digby and other Catholics, where it appeared necessary, so that the by-standers thought we were playing for money, and were in hot earnest over it.”

“So also this minister never conceived the slightest suspicion of me, but after the first courtesies began to talk at a pretty pace: for this is the only thing those chattering ministers can do, who possess no solid knowledge, but by the persuasive words of human wisdom lead souls astray, and subvert houses, teaching things that are not convenient. So he, after much frivolous talk, began to tell us the latest news from London; how a certain Puritan had thrown himself down from the steeple of a church, having left it in writing that he knew himself to be secure of his eternal salvation. About this writing, however, the learned Doctor said nothing, but I had heard the particulars myself from another quarter.”

“‘Wretched man!’ said I; ‘what could induce him thus to destroy body and soul by one and the same act!’”

“‘Sir,’ said the Doctor, learnedly enough and magisterially, ‘we must not judge any man.’”

“‘True,’ I replied; ‘it is just possible that, as he was falling, he repented of his sin: inter pontem et fontem, as they say. But this is extremely improbable; since the last act of the man of which we have any means of judging was a mortal sin and deserving of damnation.’”

“‘But,’ said the Doctor, ‘we cannot know whether this was such a sin.’”

“‘Nay,’ I replied, ‘this is not left to our judgment; it is God's own verdict, when He forbids us under pain of hell to kill any one: a prohibition which applies especially to the killing of ourselves, for charity begins from oneself.’”

“The good Doctor being here caught, said no more on this point, but turned the subject, and said, smiling, ‘Gentlemen must not dispute on theological matters.’”

“‘True,’ said I, ‘we do not make profession of knowing theology; but at least we ought to know the law of God, though our profession is to play at cards.’”

“The lady with whom I was playing, hearing him speak to me in this way, could scarce keep her countenance, thinking within herself what he would have said if he had known who it was he was answering. The Doctor, however, did not stay much longer. Whether he departed sooner than he at first intended, I know not; but I know that we much preferred his room to his company.”

XXIV.

“I must now return to London, and relate what happened after John Lilly was taken, and the gentleman imprisoned with whom I rented my London house. This house being now closed to me, I sought out another, but on a different plan. I did not now join in partnership with any one, because I was unwilling to be in the house of one known to be a Catholic. I managed that this new house should be hired by a nephew of Master Roger Lee, whom with his wife I had reconciled to the Catholic Church; and, as he was not known to be a Catholic, the house was entirely free from all suspicion. I had the use of this house for three years, and during that time it was not once searched; nor even before the Queen's death, though there were many general searches made, and the prisons were choked with Catholics, did they ever come to this house.”

“I had a man to keep the house who was a schismatic, but otherwise an honest and upright person. When I was in residence, this man provided me with necessaries; and when I was away, he managed any business for me according to my written directions. In all appearance he was the servant of the gentleman who owned the house, and so he was esteemed and called by the neighbours; and since, as a schismatic, he frequented their churches, they entertained no suspicion of him, nor of the house.”

“For myself, when I came to town, I always entered the house after dark, and in summer time scarce ever went out while I remained there. But my friends would come to visit me by ones and twos on different days, that no special attention might be drawn to the house from the number of visitors. Nor did they ever bring any servants with them, though some were of very high rank, and usually went about with a large number of attendants. By these means I provided better for them and for myself, and was able to continue longer in this way of life....”

“When I was in London I did not allow every one to come to my house whose desire to converse with me I was willing to gratify; but I would sometimes, especially after dark in winter time, go myself to their houses. On one occasion I was asked by a certain lady to her house to hear the confession of a young nobleman attached to the Court, who was a dear friend of her husband's. Her husband was also a Catholic and well known to me: though quite a young man, he had been one of the principal captains in the Irish war. And the young nobleman just mentioned was a Baron, and son to an Irish Earl, and at this present writing he has himself succeeded to the earldom on his father's death.[^122] This young Baron, then,” Lord Dunkellin, “wished to make his confession to me. As I had not known him before, I put a few questions to him, according to my wont, beforehand. I asked him, therefore, if he was prepared at once. He answered that he was. I then asked how often in the year he was accustomed to go to the Sacraments. ‘Twice or thrice in the year,’ he said.”

[^122: Richard de Burgh, commonly called Richard of Kinsale, from his conduct at that place, Baron of Dunkellin, succeeded his father as fourth Earl of Clanricarde, May 20, 1601. He was subsequently made Earl of St. Albans, and died Nov. 12, 1635. He married Frances, daughter and heiress of Sir Francis Walsyngham, Knight, widow of Robert second Earl of Essex. She died in 1632. Thus Walsyngham's only child became a Catholic.]

“‘It would be better,’ said I, ‘to come more frequently, and then less preparation would be necessary. As it is, I should advise you to take a few days for the exact and diligent examination of your conscience, according to the method that I will show you; then you will come with greater fruit, and with greater satisfaction to yourself and to me. And for the future I would recommend a more frequent use of the holy Sacraments.’ And I brought some reasons for my advice.”

“He listened to me very patiently, and when I had finished he replied, ‘I will do in future what you recommend, and I would willingly follow your counsel at present, if it were possible; it is, however, impossible to put off my present confession.’”

“‘Why is it impossible?’ I asked.”

“‘Because,’ he replied, ‘to-morrow I shall be in circumstances of danger, and I desire to prepare myself by confession to-day.’”

“‘What danger is this,’ I asked again, ‘to which you will be exposed?’”

“‘There is a gentleman at Court,’ he said, ‘who has grievously insulted me, so that I was compelled in defence of my honour to challenge him to single combat, and we meet to-morrow at an appointed spot at some distance from town.’”

“‘My lord,’ I exclaimed, ‘to approach the Sacrament in such a frame of mind is not to prepare yourself for danger, nor to cleanse your soul (though I doubt not it was with a good intention you proposed it), but rather to sully your soul more than ever, to affront God still further, and render Him still more your enemy. For to come to confession with a determination of taking vengeance is to put an obstacle to the grace of the Sacrament; and, moreover, this particular action on which you are resolved is not only a sin, but is visited with excommunication. I urge you, therefore, to give up this intention; you will be able to preserve your honour by some other way. Nay, the honour you think to preserve by this is not real honour, but merely the estimation of bad men founded on bad principles: men who exalt their own worldly ideas above the law and honour of God.’”

“‘It is impossible to withdraw now,’ he said, ‘for the thing is known to many, and has been taken even to the Queen, who has expressly forbidden us to pursue the matter any further.’”

“‘Well then,’ said I, ‘you have the best possible reason for laying aside the quarrel, namely, obedience to the Queen's behest. Moreover, you must remember that you are known for the intimate friend of the Earl of Essex, and that, if you overcome your adversary, the Queen (if it be only to spite the Earl) will certainly visit you with some heavy punishment for having disregarded her commands; but if you should kill him, unquestionably she will take your life. On the other hand, if you should be vanquished, what becomes of the honour you wish to defend, and if you should be slain in that state of soul in which you go to the fight, you go straight to eternal fire and everlasting shame, for while you are defending your body from your adversary's sword, you forget to parry the mortal thrust that the devil is aiming at your soul.’”

“But spite of all I could say, the fear of the world, which is fatally powerful with men of this rank, prevailed, and his reply was, ‘I implore you, Father, to pray for me, and to hear my confession if you possibly can.’”

“‘Certainly I cannot hear you,’ I said, ‘for that honour which you worship is not necessary to you, in the sense in which it is to those who are obliged to take their part in a war. Besides, you are the challenger, and you took this unlawful course when it was possible for you to follow some other method of vindicating yourself, and so whatever necessity there is for pursuing the matter has been created by yourself. But this is what I will do; I will give you from my reliquary a particle of the Holy Cross, inclosed with an Agnus Dei, and you shall wear it upon you. Perhaps God may have mercy upon you for the sake of this, and afford you time for penance. Understand, however, I do not give it you in order to encourage you in your bad purpose, but that you may wear it with all reverence and respect, so that, should you come into danger (which certainly I do not desire), God may be moved to preserve your life, in the consideration of the good will you have of honouring His Cross.’”

“He took my gift very thankfully and reverentially, and had it sewed inside his shirt over his heart, for it was arranged that they should fight in their shirts without cuirass. It happened, God so allowing it, that his adversary made a lunge at his heart and pierced his shirt, but did not touch his skin. He on his side wounded and prostrated his enemy, then gave him his life and came off victorious. He then came to me in high spirits, and told me how he had been preserved by the power of the Holy Cross; then he thanked me very earnestly, and promised to be more on his guard in future. The Queen soon after took a fancy to this young nobleman, and kept him close to her at Court for a time. But tiring soon of this sort of life, at his father's death he married the widow of the Earl of Essex. She was a heretic when he married her, but he soon made her a Catholic, and they both live now as Catholics in Ireland, as I hear.”

“That Knight, moreover, who introduced this young Baron to me, followed my counsel at that time, and after devoting several days to a diligent examination of conscience, made a general confession of his whole life, with a view of reforming it for the future. A little later he was desirous of returning to the Irish wars, but as I was in doubt whether this was lawful in conscience, he promised me to resign his appointment and return to England, if the Priests there, to whom I referred him as living on the spot, and therefore having a closer knowledge of the circumstances, decided that it was unlawful. Soon after his arrival in Ireland, in a certain fight, while he was bravely mounting a wall and animating his men to follow, he was struck dead by a musket-ball. He had, however, before the fight, carefully written me a letter and sent it off, informing me that he had consulted the Priests in the country, and had received this answer, that it was lawful to fight against the Catholic party, because it was not clear to all why they had taken up arms.”

“After his death a remarkable incident occurred, which I will relate. His wife, pious soul, who never had the least idea of her husband's death, about that time heard every night some one knocking at her chamber door, and that so loudly as to wake her. Her maids heard it too, but on opening the door there was no one to be seen. She therefore got a Priest to stay with her and her maids till the usual time of the knocking, and when the same noise and knocking at the door were heard, the Priest himself went to the door, but found no one. This knocking went on till such time as news of her husband's death reached her, as if it had been a warning from his Angel to pray for his soul....”

“Having held this house for three years, I let it to a Catholic friend, and took another house near the principal street in London, called the Strand. Since most of my friends lived in that street, they were thus able to visit me more easily, and I them. After my removal I discovered how entirely free from suspicion was the house which I had left, and in which I had dwelt for three years; for the servant who kept my house sent for a gardener with whom he had been acquainted in the other house (for the garden of the new house needed to be put in order), and the gardener remarked to him, ‘Some Papists have come to live in your old house:’ as though they who had previously dwelt there had been good Protestants.”

“This new house was very suitable and convenient, and had private entrances on both sides, and I had contrived in it some most excellent hiding-places; and there I should long have remained, free from all peril or even suspicion, if some friends of mine, while I was absent from London, had not availed themselves of the house rather rashly. It remained, however, in the same state up to the time of the great and terrible disturbance of the Powder Plot, as I shall hereafter shortly mention.”

“Meantime my friends brought me another who was heir to a barony, and is himself now a peer, and by God's grace I persuaded him to take on his shoulders the yoke of the law of Christ and of the Catholic faith, and made him a member of the Church. Another whom I had previously known in the world, and had seen to be wholly devoted to every kind of vanity, fell sick. He had abounded with riches and pleasures, and passed his days in jollity, destined, however, to fall from thence in a moment, had not God patiently waited, and in a suitable time led him to penance. He then was lying sick of a grievous illness, but yet had not begun to think of death. I heard that he was sick, and obtained an entry into his chamber at eleven o'clock at night, after the departure of his friends. He recognized me, and was pleased at my visit. I explained why I had come, and warned him to think seriously of the state of his soul, and, instead of a Judge, render God a Friend and most loving Father, however much he might have wasted all his substance. So then weakness of body opened the ears of his heart, and in an acceptable time God heard us, and in the day of salvation helped us; insomuch that he offered himself as at once ready to make his confession. I, however, said I would return on the following night, and advised him meantime to procure that there should be read to him, by a friend whom I named, Father Lewis of Grenada's Explanation of the Commandments: that after each Commandment he should occupy some little time in reflection, and call to mind how, and how often, he had offended against that Commandment; that he should then make an act of sorrow regarding each, and so go on to the next. He promised that he would do so, and I promised that I would return on the following night. This I did, and heard his confession; I gave him all the assistance I could, for the time had been short, especially for a sick man, to prepare for such a confession, but he dared no longer defer it, although he still seemed tolerably strong. I advised him to use the utmost care in discharging all his debts, which were great, through the extravagant expenditure in which he had indulged; I also exhorted him to redeem his sins by alms. He did both by the will he made the following day, and bequeathed a large sum for pious uses, which, as I heard, was honestly paid.”

“I also bade him prepare for the Holy Communion and Extreme Unction against the following night, and to have some pious book read to him meantime. He not only did what I advised, but exhorted all that came to visit him on the following day, to repent at once of their former life, and not defer their amendment as he had done: ‘Do not,’ he said, ‘look for the mercy which I have found, for this is to be presumptuous and to irritate God; for I have deserved hell a thousand times on this account.’ And much more to the same effect did he speak, with so much earnestness and freedom, that all marvelled at so sudden a change. They asked him to hide the cross which he had hanging from his neck (for I had lent him my own cross full of relics to kiss, and exercise acts of reverence and love); but he answered, ‘Hide it! Nay, I would not hide it, even if the most bitter heretics were here. Too long have I refrained from profession of the Catholic faith, and now, if God gave me life, I would publicly profess myself a Catholic:’ so that all marvelled and were much edified and moved at his words. He spoke thus to all the peers and great men that visited him. His conversion thus became publicly known, and many of the courtiers afterwards spoke of it. On the third night of my visiting him according to my promise, he again made his confession with great expressions of sorrow, and begged for the Sacrament of Extreme Unction, and when he received it, himself arranged for me more conveniently to reach the different parts of his body, just as though he had been a Catholic many years. Seeing him in such good disposition, I asked him whether he did not put all his trust in the merits of Christ and in the mercy of God. ‘Surely!’ said he; ‘did I not do so, and did not that mercy give me salvation, I should have been condemned to the pit of hell; in myself I find no ground of hope, but rather of trembling. But I feel great hope in the mercy and goodness of God, Who has so long waited for me, and now has called me when I deserved, aye, and thought of, anything but this!’ Then he took my hand and said, ‘Father, I cannot express how much I am indebted to you, for you were sent by God to give me this happiness.’ I found, moreover, that he had no temptation against faith, but most firmly believed and confessed every point, and I saw most clearly that God had poured into his soul the habits of many virtues. Then I erected an altar in his chamber with the ornaments which I had brought, and I said Mass, while he assisted with great devotion and comfort. I afterwards gave him the Viaticum, which he received with the utmost reverence. When I had finished everything, I gave him some advice that would be useful should he fall into his agony before my return, and I left him full of consolation. Now, see the providence of God: but a few hours after my departure, as he was persevering in petitions for mercy, and in acts of thanksgiving for the mercy he had received, he rendered up his soul to God. But before his death, he asked the by-standers whether certain purple and red robes could be applied to the use of the altar, which he had received from the King when he was created a Knight of the Order of the Bath. The investiture of this order takes place only at the coronation of the King, and the Knights enjoy precedence before all other Knights except those of the most noble Order of the Garter, almost all of whom are Earls or other peers. He, however, was a Knight of the Bath, and he wished that the robes with which he had been invested at the coronation should be devoted to the use of the altar; for he said that he had derived great comfort from seeing my vestments, which were merely light and portable, but yet handsome, of red silk embroidered with silver lace. So after his death they gave me his suit of the peculiar robes of that order, and out of them I made sets of vestments of two colours, one of which the College of St. Omers still possesses. Thus is the pious desire of the deceased fulfilled, in whose conversion I could not fail to see God's great goodness and providence.”

“About the same time I received into the Church a lady, the wife of a certain Knight, who is at the present day a very good and useful friend of our Fathers. Her husband was at this time a heretic, but his brother had been brought by me, through the Spiritual Exercises, to despise the world and follow the counsels of Christ. He introduced me to his sister, and after one or two interviews she embraced the Catholic faith, although she was well assured that she would incur great losses as soon as it should become known to her husband, as in truth it came to pass. For he first tried caresses, then threats, and left no means unemployed to shake her resolution, insomuch that for a long time she had nothing to expect or hope but to be separated from her husband, and stripped of all the goods of the world, that so in patience she might possess her soul. When her husband was on her account deprived of the public employment which he held, she bore it with great fortitude, and remained ever constant and even in mind. At length, by her virtue and her patience, she rendered her husband a friend to Catholics, and afterwards himself a Catholic. He was reconciled by the ministry of Father Walpole, to whom I had recommended her on my leaving England.”

“There were many other conversions, which I cannot mention separately, for I have already carried to too great length the narrative of these events, which are truly very insignificant if they are compared with the actions of others.”

XXV.

“One case more I cannot pass over, which gave me especial pleasure for the sake of the person concerned; for I do not know that any one was ever more dear to me.”

“Sir Everard Digby, of whom I have spoken above, had a friend for whom he felt a peculiar affection. He had often recommended him to me, and was anxious to give me an opportunity of making his acquaintance and gaining him over, if it possibly might be; but because he held an office in the Court, requiring daily attendance about the King's person, so that he could not be absent for long together, our desire was long delayed.”

“At last Sir Everard met his friend, while we were both together in London; and he took an opportunity of asking him to come at a certain time to his chamber, to play at cards, for these are the books gentlemen in London study both night and day. He promised to come, and on his arrival he did not find a party at play, but only us two sitting and conversing very seriously; so Sir Everard asked him to sit down a little, until the rest should arrive. Then, in an interval of silence, Sir Everard said, ‘We two were engaged in a very serious conversation, in fact, concerning religion. You know,’ he said, addressing the visitor, ‘that I am friendly to Catholics and to the Catholic faith; I was, nevertheless, disputing with this gentleman, who is a friend of mine, against the Catholic faith, in order to see what defence he could make; for he is an earnest Catholic, as I do not hesitate to tell you.’ Then, turning to me, he begged me not to be vexed that he betrayed me to a stranger. ‘And I must say,’ he continued, ‘he so well defended the Catholic faith that I could not answer him, and I am glad that you have come to help me.’”

“The visitor was young and confident, and trusting in his own great abilities, expected to carry everything before him, so good was his cause and so lightly did he esteem me, as he afterwards confessed. So he began to allege many objections to the arguments before used. I waited with patience until he ceased speaking, and then answered in few words. He urged his points, and so we argued one against the other for a short hour's space. Afterwards I began to explain my view more fully, and to confirm it with texts of Holy Scripture and passages from the Fathers, and with such reasons as came to my mind. And I felt, as I often did, God supplying me words as I spoke on His behalf in great might, not for the sake of me that spoke, nor for any desert of mine, but just as He gives milk to a mother when she has an infant who needs to be fed with milk. My young friend was of a docile nature, and could no way bear to speak against the truth when he saw it; so that he listened in silence, and God was meantime speaking to his heart with a voice far more powerful and efficacious. God, too, gave him ears to hear, so that the word fell not upon stony ground, nor among thorns, but into good soil, yea, very good, that yielded by God's grace a hundred-fold in its season. So before he left, he was fully resolved to become a Catholic, and took with him a book to assist him in preparing for a good confession, which he made before a week had passed. And from that time it was not enough for him to walk in the ordinary path of God's commandments, but God prepared him for higher things; and whatever counsels I gave him he received with eagerness, and retained not only in a faithful memory, but in a most ready will. He began to use the daily examination of conscience, and even learned the method of meditation, and made a meditation every day. He was forced to rise very early to do this before he went to the King, which in summer was at break of day, for the King went hunting every day, and he, by duty of his office, was necessarily present at the royal breakfast. He would, moreover, so with his whole soul devour pious books, that he always had one in his pocket; and in the King's Court and in the Presence-chamber, while courtiers and ladies were standing around, you might see him turn himself to a window, and there read a chapter of Thomas à Kempis' Imitation of Christ, a book with which he was most intimate; and after he had read it, you might see him turn in body, but not in mind, towards the others, for there he would stand rapt in thought, while the rest perhaps were supposing that he was admiring the beauty of some lady, or thinking over the means to climb to great honours. In truth, he had no need to take particular pains about this, for, in the first place, he was son and brother to an Earl, and, moreover, the place and office which he filled were very honourable, giving him the ear of the King every day. His wit could not fail to distinguish favourable opportunities for gaining his requests, and, in fact, the King had given him an office which he afterwards sold, but which, had he kept it, would have brought him in more than ten thousand florins [1,000l.] a year. In short, such was his position that he would undoubtedly have soon risen to great honours; for he made himself acceptable to all, and was not a little beloved, insomuch that after he had left the Court and given up all hope of worldly honour, I heard it said by some persons of the greatest eminence and experience in the ways of the Court, that they had never in forty years' space known any one so highly valued and beloved in every quarter.”

“But, what is far more important, he was beloved in the Court of the King of Kings, and inspired to desire and seek after greater and more abiding blessings. So he conceived the wish of trying the Spiritual Exercises, in the course of which he determined to desert the Court, and devote himself to those pursuits which would render him most pleasing to God and most profitable to his neighbour; so with as little delay as possible he made such a disposition of his goods as would enable him freely to make his escape from England. He then, to the surprise of all, asked and obtained the King's leave to go to Italy, where he still resides, and he is so well known to our Fathers that there is no need to write anything more concerning him; but this I can say, that wherever I have known him to have been, he has left men filled with great esteem for him, and expectation of yet greater things....”

“The conversions which took place in the country were not few, and some were cases of heads of families; but I have already gone to great length, and I will here recount one only, the beginning and end of which I saw to be good.”

“There was a lady, a kinswoman of my hostess, whose husband had now many years been a Catholic, yet neither her husband, nor any of her friends, nor my hostess herself, who loved her as a sister, could ever lead her to become a Catholic. She did not object to listen to Catholics, even to Priests, and was fond of earnest argument with them; but she would believe no one but herself, and indeed her talents were greater than I have often met with in a woman. My hostess often mourned over this lady, and grieved that no remedy could be found; she wished that I should once see her. She spoke highly in praise of her talents and amiable disposition, and of her life and behaviour in all respects, with the one solitary exception of her being an obstinate heretic. I asked my hostess, therefore, to invite her to pay us a visit, although she lived in a distant county. She came according to the invitation, and we took care that she should find me showing myself in public, and dressed as though I had been a guest just arrived from London. On the first two days we did but little, for we knew that she would have plenty of time afterwards, and I wished to remove all timidity from her; for though she had been accustomed to meet Priests at that house, yet they had kept mostly to their chambers. But as soon as I judged her to be convinced that I was a Catholic, but not a Priest, I began slowly to turn my conversation with her often upon religion. At first I spoke little, but to such purpose that she could not answer me; and so I left her, not urging her, but rather leaving her with a desire to hear more. At length, after a few days, I judged her thoroughly prepared, and I arranged that my hostess should begin to talk seriously upon these topics, and that when she saw me enter into the conversation and carry it on, she should leave us in company with one or two of the lady's daughters, for she had brought three with her. This having been done, we began the combat with, as it seemed to her, various success, for one or two hours; and then she listened to me as I spoke without interruption for two or three hours more. She spoke little in answer, and did not like on the spot to acknowledge herself vanquished, but she thanked me heartily, and went away quite red and flushed in the face. She was truly moved, or, rather, changed interiorly, and straightway she ran to my hostess and said, ‘Oh, cousin, what have you done?’”

“‘What have I done?’ replied the other.”

“‘Oh, who is it,’ she rejoined, ‘that you introduced me to? Is he such a one as you represented to me? At any rate, he is,’ ... and she spoke in much higher terms of my learning and language than I deserved, and she added that she could not resist what I urged, nor answer it.”

“On the following day God confirmed what He had wrought in her, and she surrendered at discretion, and accepted a book to help her to prepare for confession. Meantime, with the mother's consent and assistance, I instructed her three daughters, and when they had learned the catechism, I heard their confessions. The mother, however, during the time of her preparation, began to be filled with trouble and sorrow, not on account of leaving her heresy, but through fear of confession. I, on the contrary, encouraged her to persevere, and adduced arguments against her timidity, but I could not rid her of it, and so, seeing that she was ready as far as examination was concerned, but nevertheless put the matter off from day to day, and begged a little more time to prepare, I would not consent. I told her that this came from the enemy, who grieved to leave his habitation, and at length she saw and acknowledged this. For as soon as out of obedience she had made her confession, she felt relieved of a great burden, and filled with consolation; and she told me that now she was glad not to have delayed longer.”

“I have often found this, that some souls experience great trouble when first they make confession on being reconciled to the Church of God. Some persons even fall sick and faint, so as to be forced to cease speaking for a time and sit down, until they have recovered a little and are able to continue; and this has happened even when at their first coming they were in sound health, and ready to confess. And then when they recommenced, they again fell ill, and this happened two or three times in the course of their first confession. But when the confession was finished, they not only felt no sickness, but having received absolution, they went away full of joy and consolation. Some, in fact, have remarked to me, that did men but know what consolation is gained in confession, they would never be deprived of so great a happiness.”

“Among these was to be reckoned this lady, who came forth from confession full of consolation, and gave most hearty thanks to her cousin, for that by her means she had been admitted to share in so great a happiness. So great was God's mercy towards her, that thenceforth she gave herself wholly up to devotion. On her return home she devoted herself to making handsome vestments, and, whenever she was able, she procured the company of Priests. And not content with this, she was anxious to return wholly to our house, and to dwell with us, in order to have more frequent access to the Sacraments, and the opportunity of hearing the public and private exhortations that we had every Sunday and Festival-day. She stayed with us about two years, and all that time she gave herself up to devotion and the constant reading of pious books. She was clearly led to this course of life by the special mercy and providence of God; for at the end of the period I have mentioned, although she seemed stout and strong, she was suddenly attacked with disease, by which, within a few days, she was so weakened, that no skill of the physicians could restore her strength. She was warned to prepare for the life to come, and she repeated a good and careful confession of her whole life.”

“At length, finding herself in her last agony, she wished to write a letter to her brother, who was a heretic, and almost the greatest enemy the Catholics had in the county in which he dwelt. To him, then, she wished to send a letter, written by her daughter's hand, but subscribed with her own, to the following effect: That he knew she had long been a strenuous upholder of this new religion, so that he might be the more convinced that she would not have changed it without good grounds, and that she had certain and unanswerable authorities for the faith which she had adopted; wherefore she protested to him that ever since the time when she embraced the faith she had lived in peace of conscience, and that never before that time had she enjoyed true internal consolation; finally, she begged him to have a care of his soul, and proceeded thus: ‘I, your sister, now at the point of death, by these my last words, beg and beseech you to embrace the Catholic and ancient faith; and I protest that there is no other in which you can be saved.’ These were her sentiments when almost come into her last agony, from which I perceived that she was wholly converted from heresy, and full of charity towards her neighbour; so having asked her a few questions, and found that she was not troubled with any temptations of presumption or of despair, I gave her as much help as I could in forming and uttering acts of the opposite virtues. After which, when she was on the point of death, I offered her a picture of the Passion of Christ, and she embraced and kissed it with the greatest affection. I put also a blessed medal into her hands, and reminded her to invoke the name of Jesus in her heart at least, in order to gain the indulgences, although she could not speak. I then asked her to give some sign to show that she did thus from her heart, whereupon she caught hold of the medal and kissed it, repeating this action several times. Observing she made answer to me by signs, I bade her conceive a great sorrow for ever having offended God, Who was so good in Himself, and had shown so great mercy to her, and to give a sign of it by raising her hand: she did so with great earnestness; then to conceive sorrow that she had ever been in heresy, and had resisted God and the Church, of which also she gave a sign; then to conceive the wish that all heretics might be converted, and that she willingly offered her life for their conversion, and she again made the signal with great earnestness, and also took my hand within her own, which were already chill, and held it firmly, repeating the signs that she was pleased with the suggestions I made to her. And I continued up to her last gasp, encouraging her, and exhorting her to praise God in her heart, to desire that all creatures should praise and serve Him, and to offer her life for this end. And she gave me answer to everything, now raising, now lowering her hand; just as I asked her to do in assent to what I suggested. All the by-standers, who were numerous, and a Priest also who was among them, were in great admiration, and declared that they never witnessed such a death as this. For she continued, as I have said, responding to my suggestions up to the very last breath, raising her hand slightly when she could no longer raise it much. In these interior acts she gave up her soul, without any trouble of mind or convulsion of body, but like one going off to sleep, she went to rest in peace.”

“Her youngest daughter had already died holily in our house before her mother. The second daughter married a rich man, and brought him to me from a considerable distance to be made a Catholic. The eldest still lives in the same house, to be espoused not to man but to God, for she has a vocation to the Religious state. In the meantime she lives there religiously, and devotes herself to the service of Religious, as the lady of the house always did, and does still....”

“I gave the Spiritual Exercises in this house to many others, as well to those who formed part of the family as to others; and in each case the fruit which I hoped for was produced....”

“But suddenly all things were upset for a time, and all good hindered by the Powder Plot, as it is called. And if proof were wanting that I knew nothing of this affair, this alone would be sufficient, that at that very time I had sent several from England across the sea into these parts. One was a lady, who was going to be a Nun in the Benedictine Convent at Brussels, whither I had sent two others not long before, who are now in high authority there. Another had been an heretical minister, whom I had brought to the Faith and instructed. He was the last that I received into the Church before these disturbances. When these persons, with certain others, were on the point of crossing the Channel, orders were sent to allow no ships to leave; they were, consequently, all taken and thrown into prison, from which they were released two years ago. He who had been a minister is at present studying in the Roman College; and the lady of whom I spoke is now professed in the convent whither she was going when she was taken. Only one other minister besides the one just mentioned did I convert in England, and he is now a Priest and is working in that vineyard. I also sent over many youths to the Seminaries while I was in this last residence of mine, who will, by God's help, give fruit in due season.”

“But if we have received good things from God's hands, why should we not also bear with evil things?—if those things can be truly called evil which are sent from Him, and therefore sent that He may draw good from them, for those who receive them well, and humbly recognize and adore His providence, both when He gives and when He takes away. He had, indeed, given me many and great consolations in this residence; interior consolations chiefly, from conversions and from the signal progress in virtue of many souls; but exterior consolations were not wanting. For in external matters everything was well and abundantly supplied me. I had several excellent horses for my missionary journeys, and all that I could wish for to carry on the work I had in hand. Then, in the house itself, the arrangements were made in the best way both for our health and our convenience. And for companion I had Father Strange, who is now in the Tower[^123] (for Master Digby had obtained Father Percy from the Superior), and another Priest who resided a long time with us. We had, moreover, good store of useful books, which were kept in a library without any concealment, because they had the appearance of belonging to the young Baron, and of having been left him by his uncle,[^124] who was a very learned and studious nobleman, and was well known for his piety. He had, in fact, resigned the right and title of the barony to his younger brother, the father of the present lord, in order that he might more entirely and securely devote himself to God and his studies. If he had lived a little longer, he would assuredly have been a member of our Society, for on his death-bed this was the only thing that caused him regret, namely, that he could not then be admitted into the Society, a thing he desired most earnestly.”

[^123: Qui nunc in rure est (MS.). An evident mistake of the copyist for ‘in turre,’ as is clear from a former passage, where Father Gerard says, ‘Father Thomas Strange is at present suffering imprisonment in the Tower of London, where he has had to undergo many grievous tortures, and a long solitary confinement. This solitude indeed, if we look only to his natural disposition, cannot but be very irksome and oppressive to him; but he is not solitary who has God always present with him, consoling him, and supplying in an eminent degree and full abundance all those comforts which we are wont to go begging for from creatures.’]

[^124: Sir Ambrose Vaux, Prior of St. John of Jerusalem.]

“Our vestments and altar furniture were both plentiful and costly. We had two sets for each colour which the Church uses; one for ordinary use, the other for Feast-days: some of these latter were embroidered with gold and pearls, and figured by well-skilled hands. We had six massive silver candlesticks on the altar, besides those at the sides for the Elevation; the cruets were of silver also, as were the basin for the lavabo, the bell, and the thurible. There were, moreover, lamps hanging from silver chains, and a silver crucifix on the altar. For greater Festivals, however, I had a crucifix of gold, a foot in height, on the top of which was represented a pelican, while on the right arm of the cross was an eagle with expanded wings carrying on its back its young ones, who were also attempting to fly; on the left arm a phœnix expiring in flames that it might leave an offspring after it; and at the foot was a hen with her chickens, gathering them under her wings. All this was made of wrought gold by a celebrated artist....”

“But I, who was not sufficiently grateful to God for these benefits which I have mentioned, and many others, was compelled to leave them to others who could use them better and to greater advantage.”

“For since it was my chief friends who were involved in that disaster of the Powder Plot, the Council on this account believed me to be privy to it, and from the first sought for me with great persistence and severity. They sent certain magistrates to search our house most exactly, with orders, if they found me not, to stay in the house till recalled, to post guards all round the house every night, and to have men on the watch both day and night at a distance of three miles from the house on every side, who were to apprehend all whom they did not know and bring them before the Justices. All this was done to the letter. But immediately the news reached us of such a plot having been discovered, and we learnt that certain of our friends had been killed and others taken, expecting that in such a season we, too, should have something to suffer, we had made all snug before they came, so that they found nothing. They continued searching, however, for many days, till at last my hostess discovered to the Justice in chief command one of the hiding-places in which a few books had been stowed away, thinking that he would then desist from searching any further, under the impression that if a Priest had been in the house he would have been hidden there, yet they continued in the house for full nine days; and I, meanwhile, remained shut up in a hole where I could sit, but not stand upright. This time, however, I did not suffer from hunger, for every night food was brought to me secretly; nay, after four or five days, when the rigour of the search was somewhat relaxed, my friends even took me out at night and warmed me at a fire, for it was wintry weather, just before Christmas-tide. And when nine days had passed the searching party withdrew, believing it impossible I could be there so long without being discovered.”

“In the meantime they had taken a Priest, who, knowing nothing of the watch set about the place, was coming to our house for safety. This good Priest (by name Thomas Laithwaite,[^125] who is now of our Society, and is labouring in England) had left us a few days before at my request, when we heard of the Plot, in order to communicate with Father Garnett, and obtain from him for me instructions how to act in the present crisis. Even on his way thither he was taken, but escaped again for that time in the following manner. His captors took him to an inn, intending to bring him up for examination and committal the next day. On entering the inn he took off his cloak and sword and laid them on a bench; then, on pretence of looking after his horse and getting him taken to water, he went to the stable, and, as there was a stream near the house, he bade the boy lead the horse thither at once, and himself went along also. When they had come to the stream and the horse was drinking, ‘Go,’ said he to the lad, ‘get ready the hay and the straw for his bed, and I will bring him back when he has drunk.’ The boy returned to the stable without further thought, and he, mounting his horse, spurred him into the stream, and swam him to the opposite bank. Those in the inn, seeing his cloak and sword still lying there, had for some time no suspicion of his stratagem; but hearing from the stable-boy what had happened, they saw they had been outwitted, and immediately set off in pursuit. They were, however, too late, for the fugitive, knowing the way well, got to the house of a Catholic before night, and lay hid there for a few days. Then, finding that he could not get to Father Garnett, and thinking all danger had passed in our direction, he tried to return to me. But while avoiding Charybdis he fell into the clutches of Scylla; for, as I said above, he was taken on his way to our house, and dragged to London. They were not able, however, to prove him a Priest, and his brother was allowed to buy him his freedom for a sum of money.”

[^125: This name is written ‘Lathuilli’ in the MS. English names frequently suffer at the hands of this copyist. We have restored the true name by the aid of Dr. Oliver's Collectanea.]

“Two other Priests who were resident with me in that house (one of whom, as I said before, was Father Strange), at the beginning of their troubles wished to go to Father Garnett and remain with him. Both of them, however, were taken prisoners on their way; one was thrown into Bridewell, and was afterwards banished, together with other Priests, while Father Strange, the other, was sent to the Tower, where he suffered much, as has been before mentioned.”

XXVI.

“The history of the Plot, its causes and consequences, is but too well known; since it has been written by both friends and enemies, though perhaps by neither exactly as it ought to be. I myself, when I came from England to Rome, was ordered to put in writing an account of the whole affair, and did so as well as I could. There is no need, therefore, to repeat here what I wrote at length on that occasion....”[^126]

[^126: Father Gerard here gives a summary of his Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot.]

“I will now add a few words about myself before closing this narrative. I have stated in the other treatise, of which I spoke, that a proclamation was issued against three Jesuit Fathers, of whom I was one; and, though the most unworthy, I was named first in the proclamation, whereas I was the subject of one, and far inferior in all respects to the other. All this, however, I solemnly protest, was utterly groundless; for I knew absolutely nothing of the Plot from any one whatsoever, not even under the seal of confession as the other two did; nor had I the slightest notion that any such scheme was entertained by any Catholic gentleman, until by public rumour news was brought us of its discovery, as it was to all others dwelling in that part of the country.”

“When I saw by that long search of nine days that I was sought after and aimed at in particular, I wrote a public letter, as if to some friends, in which, by many arguments, and by protestations beyond all cavil, I maintained my entire innocence of the charges brought against me. Of this letter I caused many copies to be taken, and to be dropped about the London streets very early in the morning. These were found and read by many persons, and a copy was shown to the King by one of the Lords of Council, who was no enemy either of mine or of my cause. The King, as I heard, was personally satisfied by this. Afterwards, however, when information was given them of Father Garnett's hiding-place, and they conceived hopes of catching him, and of turning the whole charge on the Society, they thought it necessary to publish the names of some of ours as the principal contrivers of the Plot. So they put my name down, as well as those of the other two Fathers, of whom they had heard from a certain servant of Master Catesby. This man, however, before his death, repenting of this injury he had done them, confessed that he had been induced to say what he did of them against his conscience, by the fear of death on the one hand, and by the hope of pardon, and by the persuasions and suggestions of Secretary Cecil on the other. And it is possible that some persons at that time had a real suspicion that I was privy to the thing, because they knew that many of the gentlemen who had been taken were friends of mine, and were in the habit of visiting me at my London house. This, indeed, was acknowledged by one of them in his examination, though at the same time he affirmed that I knew nothing of their scheme. Nor did they ever get a single word against me from any of their examinations. Master Digby, indeed, who was known to be most intimate with me, and for that reason was most strictly examined about me, publicly protested in open court that he never dare mention a syllable of it to me, because I should never have permitted him to go on with it. When I heard of all this, and, besides, had learnt several particulars concerning Father Garnett, which proved that any knowledge he had was under seal of confession, and imparted to him by the only Priest of the Society who knew of it, and that also only in confession, it seemed to me that I was sufficiently cleared of the charge; and in order to bring this fact into notice, I prepared three letters to three Lords of the Council, a little before the death of the condemned conspirators, in which I showed more at full that I was completely ignorant of the whole matter, and pointed out how they might satisfy themselves of the same while those gentlemen were yet alive. Whether they did so or not, I do not know; but this much I know, that in the whole process of Father Garnett's trial, in which after the receipt of these letters they tried their utmost to defame the whole Society, and in particular to charge this Plot on the English mission, they never once mentioned me. They spoke, indeed, of three Fathers as guilty, but they named those two who had heard of it in confession, and Father Ouldcorne, not as privy to the Plot beforehand, but as an accomplice post factum.”

“Nevertheless, I took the greatest precaution to remain hidden; and I lay at a place in London known to no one. So by the protection of God I continued safe, and if it had seemed good I could have remained so still longer. I did not, therefore, leave England to avoid being taken, but as in that great disturbance it was no time for labouring, but rather for keeping quiet, I took a favourable opportunity that presented itself of passing over into these parts and reposing a little, that after so long a period of distracting work in all kinds of company, I might take breath and recover strength for future labours. Why, even at that very time when I was keeping so close, and when nearly all my friends were either in prison, or so upset that they could scarcely help themselves, much less me, though I had lost the house I had in London, through the fault of one who disclosed it, as I have said, and though strict watch was kept everywhere, and danger beset me on all sides; yet, before I had settled to leave England, I managed to hire another house in London very fit for my purpose, perhaps more so than the former. I managed also to furnish it with everything necessary, and made some good hiding-places in it; and there I remained in safety the whole of Lent before my departure. Besides this house I also hired another, finer and larger than this, which I intended should be in common between Father Antony Hoskins and me. This house after my departure was used by the Superior of the mission for a considerable time.”

“The first of these last-mentioned houses I brought into some little danger, about the end of Lent, in order to rescue one of our Fathers from imminent danger. The thing happened in this wise. The good Father, by name Thomas Everett, had gone to a gentleman's house in London, where there were some false brethren, or else some talkative ones; for the fact reached the ears of the Council. And as he is something of my height, and has black hair, Cecil thought it was I of whom notice was given him, and said to a private friend of his, ‘Now we shall have him,’ naming me. However, he had neither the one nor the other. For I, learning that the Father had gone to this place, where he could not possibly remain hidden, asked my friend, in whose house I had myself been concealed before I had procured and furnished my new abode, to fetch him and keep him close in his house for a time, which he did. Here he remained while the house he had just left was undergoing a strict search. Now it so happened that, after a few days, a search was also made in the very place to which he had been brought, on account of some books of Father Garnett's which had been seen, and which this gentleman used to keep for him. After rifling the place well and finding no one, for Father Everett had betaken himself to a hiding-place, they carried off the master and mistress of the house, and threw them into prison. Now when I heard this, and knew there was no Catholic left in the house, fearing lest the Father should either perish with hunger, or come forth to be taken, I sent persons from my own house, to whom I described the position of his hiding-place. They went thither, and called to him, and knocked at the place, for him to open it; he, however, would neither open nor answer, though they said that I had sent them for him. For, as he did not know their voices, he was afraid that this was a trick of the searchers, who sometimes pretend to depart, and then after a time return, and assuming a friendly tone, go about the rooms, asking any who are hidden to come out, for that the searchers are all gone. The good Father suspected that this was the case now, and therefore made no answer. My messengers remained a long time trying to reassure him, and at last were obliged to return, but so late, that they fell into the hands of the watch. They were detained in custody that night, and got off with some difficulty the next day. One of them, however, was recognized as having formerly lived with a Catholic, and was therefore believed to be a Catholic himself, and as it was now known that he lived in the house that I had hired, this brought that house into suspicion, though it had been ostensibly hired by a schismatic, who was under no suspicion at all. The consequence was that some four days later the chief magistrate of London, who is called the mayor, came with a posse of constables to search the house.”

“In the meantime, hearing that Father Thomas would not answer, and knowing well that he was there, to prevent his perishing from starvation, I sent the next night another party with the man who had made the hiding-place and knew how to open it. The place was thus opened, and the good Father rescued from his perilous position. They brought him to my house, and there he remained. I myself, however, before he arrived, had gone to a friend's house, a very secure place, for the purpose of staying there a little, as I had some fears that the apprehension of my servants a day or two back might bring the searchers to my house. My fears were well founded: for on Holy Thursday, while Father Everett was saying Mass, and had just finished the Offertory, there was a great tumult and noise at the garden gate; and the mayor used such violence, and made such quick work of it, as to have entered the garden, and the house, and to be now actually mounting the stairs, just as the Father, all vested as he was, and with all the altar furniture bundled up, had entered his hiding-place. So near a matter was it, that the mayor and his company smelt the smoke of the extinguished candles, so that they made sure a Priest had been there, and were the more eager in their search. But of the three hiding-places in the house they did not find one. So they departed, taking with them those men whom they found in the house, and who acknowledged themselves to be Catholics, and the schismatic also who passed for the house-holder. After this, having again released Father Everett from his hiding-hole and advised him to leave London, I determined not to use that house again for some time. And seeing that the times were such as called us rather to remain quiet, than to gird ourselves for work, I took the first opportunity of crossing the sea and coming into these parts.[^127]”

[^127: In a letter addressed by Father Ouldcorne to the Council, dated March 25, 1606, in which he relates all that had passed in the Tower between Father Garnett and himself, but in a way that could not be hurtful to either, the following passage occurs. ‘Also Mr. Garnett told me that while he was in the Gatehouse he received a note written in orange (but he told me not from whom) whereby he understood that Father Tesimond was gone over sea, and that Father Gerard would presently follow him after he had recovered a little more strength: “whereby” (said Garnett) “I gather he hath been lately in some secret place, as we were; but by this I hope he hath recovered his strength, and is also past over the sea”’ (P. R. O., Gunpowder Plot Book, n. 214).]

“I recommended my friends to different Fathers, asking them to have special care of them during my absence. As for my hostess,” Mrs. Vaux, “she was brought to London after that long search for me, and strictly examined about me by the Lords of the Council; but she answered to everything so discreetly as to escape all blame. At last they produced a letter of hers to a certain relative, asking for the release of Father Strange and another, of whom I spoke before. This relative of hers was the chief man in the county in which they had been taken, and she thought she could by her intercession with him prevail for their release. But the treacherous man, who had often enough, so far as words went, offered to serve her in any way, proved the truth of our Lord's prophecy: ‘A man's enemies shall be those of his own household;’ for he immediately sent up her letter to the Council. They showed her, therefore, her own letter, and said to her, ‘You see now that you are entirely at the King's mercy for life or death; so if you consent to tell us where Father Gerard is, you shall have your life.’”

“‘I do not know where he is,’ she answered; ‘and if I did know, I would not tell you.’”

“Then rose one of the lords who had been a former friend of hers, to accompany her to the door out of courtesy, and on the way said to her persuasively, ‘Have pity on yourself and on your children, and say what is required of you, or otherwise you will certainly die.’”

“To which she answered with a loud voice, ‘Then, my lord, I will die.’”

“This was said when the door had been opened, so that her servants who were waiting for her heard what she said, and all burst into weeping. But the Council only said this to terrify her, for they did not commit her to prison, but sent her to the house of a certain gentleman in the city, and after being held here in custody for a time, she was released, but on condition of remaining in London. And one of the principal Lords of the Council acknowledged to a friend that he had nothing against her except that she was a stout Papist, going ahead of others, and, as it were, a leader in evil.”

“Immediately she was released from custody, knowing that I was then in London, quite forgetful of herself, she set about taking care of me, and provided all the furniture and other things necessary for my new house. Moreover, she sent me whole sheets daily, recounting everything that occurred; and when she knew that I wished to cross the sea for a time, she bid me not spare expense, so that I secured a safe passage, for that she would pay everything, though it should cost five thousand florins; and, in fact, she sent me at once a thousand florins [100l.] for my journey. I left her in the care of Father Percy, who had already, as my companion, lived a long time at her house. There he still remains, and does much good. I went straight to Rome, and being sent back thence to these parts, was fixed at Louvain.”

“I have received two signal benefits on the 3rd of May, through the intercession, as I think, of blessed Father Garnett, who went to Heaven on that day. The first was as follows: When I had come to the port where, according to agreement, I was to embark with certain high personages, in order to pass unchallenged out of England, they, out of fear, excused themselves from performing their promise. And in this mind they continued till the hour of the day fixed for embarking. Now just at that time Father Garnett's martyrdom was consummated in London, and he being received into Heaven remembered me upon earth; for the minds of those lords were so changed, that the Ambassadors themselves came to fetch me, and with their own hands helped to dress me in Spanish costume, so that I might be taken for one of their suite, and so pass free. All went well, and I do not doubt that I owed it to Father Garnett's prayers.”

“The other and greater benefit is that three years later, on the same 3rd of May, I was admitted into the body of the Society, by the four solemn vows,[^128] though most unworthy. This I look upon as the greatest and most signal favour I have ever received, and it seems to me that God wished to show me that I owed this also to the prayers of Father Garnett, from an exact similarity in the circumstance of time between my profession and his martyrdom. For the day originally fixed for both had been the 1st of May, the Feast of the Holy Apostles SS. Philip and James, and in both cases unforeseen delays postponed the event till the 3rd of May.”

[^128: Both Father Bartoli and Father More remark that Father Gerard was admitted to the solemn vows of a Professed Father by a special favour, as his learning, owing to the short course of study through which he had passed, fell short of that which the Society requires as a condition of Profession. Father Bartoli says that this ‘most rare but most just privilege’ was conferred on him, ‘as virtue, in which he exceeded the standard, supplied for the studies in which he fell short of it’ (Inghilterra, p. 586).]

“God grant that I may truly love and worthily carry the Cross of Jesus, that I may walk worthy of the vocation whereunto I am called. This one thing I have asked of our Lord, and this will I continue to ask, that I may dwell in the House of God all my days, until I begin to prove myself grateful for so great a favour, and that though hitherto unfruitful, yet by the fertility of the olive-tree in which I have been grafted, I may at length begin to bear some fruit!”

XXVII.

Here the Autobiography of Father Gerard ends. Though he survived his escape from England thirty-one years,[^129] we have not much more to relate of the events of his life. We have, however, first a few notes to record on the concluding portion of the narrative.

[^129: Bartoli, Inghilterra, pp. 586, 592.]

First, with regard to the brave Elizabeth Vaux. She was re-arrested, long after the liberation of which Father Gerard has told us, for in a letter from Louvain to Father Aquaviva, the General of the Society, dated August 17, 1612, he gives the following account of her conduct, and that of her son, Lord Vaux, in prison. We translate from the Latin original.[^130]

[^130: Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. iii., n. 111.]

“Lord Vaux remains in prison under condemnation, but by no means cast down. He seems with invincible courage to trample on rather than to be deprived of the world, and not so much to have lost as to have contemned its goods. His praise certainly is in the mouths of all men. And his cause is so honourable to him, and to the Catholic religion, and so disgraceful to his enemies, that the King seemed to be ready to let the Baron go, and to restore him all his goods, when, God so disposing it, and preserving His servant for great things, some men making a more careful search than usual, found out that the mother of the Baron, who was herself under condemnation and in prison, but who retained all her fervour and devotion, had received a Priest into her cell on the very Feast of St. John Baptist. When the officers entered, they found a good Father who had just completed the Holy Sacrifice, and was in the act of distributing the most holy Body of Christ to those who were assisting. Mrs. Vaux herself, and two others, had communicated. The Priest turned back to the altar, and quietly received the remaining Hosts, lest they should fall into sacrilegious hands. The first man who entered the room, seeing the altar well appointed, and all of them kneeling before the Blessed Sacrament, was astounded; and forgetting the fierceness with which, under similar circumstances, most people rush upon a Priest, only uttered these words: ‘Has not your ladyship suffered enough already for this sort of thing?’”

“The wonder is of old standing on the part of those who do not understand how blessed is the life that God will give to those who never change their fidelity to Him, and who, fearing God more than the King, even though they have but just escaped death, still wish to bury the dead. So our good Father Cornforth was taken: a very holy man, whose life well deserves recording. He was carried off to the pseudo-Prelate of Canterbury, and as he could not conceal his Priesthood on account of those with whom he was taken, so neither would he for his own safety's sake, hide his Religious state. So he was sent off to that prison from which they usually take their victims when they want an offering for the god of heresy. Canterbury then went to the King in all haste and fury, and putting fire to the cotton to raise a flame, so inflamed the King's mind against the Baron, that he seems to have diverted him from his inclination to set him free to the very reverse. But notwithstanding all this, as the Baron has those counsellors for him who are most powerful with the King, we all hope that the King will soon be pacified, and that all will end well for our friend, especially if your Paternity and yours will help him with your holy prayers.”

In the Public Record Office we have various papers which add a little to what Father Gerard has here written. Letters[^131] dated February 26 and October 22, 1612, say that Mrs. Vaux, Lord Vaux's mother, was condemned to perpetual imprisonment for refusing to take the oath of allegiance, and that Lord Vaux was transferred to the custody of the Dean of Westminster. The Privy Councillor, who was their friend, was Henry Howard, Earl of Northampton. There are three letters[^132] extant from him to Viscount Rochester in behalf of the Vauxes. In the first he says that Lord Vaux's sister [Katherine, wife of Henry Nevill, Lord Abergavenny] has presented a petition that her brother and mother may, on account of the hot season, be removed from their keeper's house in town to that in the country; but they being imprisoned for life on a prœmunire, the matter rests with the King. And this, in the third letter, he says the Archbishop and Council consented to, if they can still be under charge of their keeper. The second letter thanks Lord Rochester for his intercession in behalf of Lord Vaux and his mother, and adds that they expect but little mercy where the Metropolitan [Archbishop Abbot] is mediator. Lastly, we have the grant[^133] to Lord Vaux of Harrowden of his lands, &c., at Harrowden and elsewhere, in the counties of Essex, Bedford, Nottingham, Lincoln, and Cambridge, which were forfeited to the King on his conviction in a prœmunire for refusing the oath of allegiance. Later on, May 4, 1625, Charles I. granted him a special pardon[^134] for “not repairing to the Protestant church and forbearing the same,” which is recited to be “a contempt of the King's crown and dignity.”

[^131: P. R. O., Domestic, James I., vol. 68, n. 67, and vol. 71, n. 24; Chamberlain to Carleton.]

[^132: P. R. O., Domestic, James I., vol. 70, nn. 25, 46, 55; dated August 3, 12, and 20, 1612.]

[^133: P. R. O., Sign. Man., vol. iii., n. 6.]

[^134: Rymer's Fœdera, t. xviii., f. 44.]

The proclamation for the apprehension of the three Fathers gives a description of Father Gerard.[^135] “John Gerard, alias Brooke, of stature tall, and according thereunto well set; his complexion swart or blackish; his face large; his cheeks sticking out, and somewhat hollow underneath the cheeks; the hair of his head long if it be not cut off; his beard cut close, saving little mustachoes, and a little tuft under his lower lip; about forty years old.” To this we may add the description[^136] of Father Gerard given by the ruffian Topcliffe, whose spelling is sufficiently “kewryoos” to be worth retaining. It is dated in the Calendar of the Record Office, 1583, but this is evidently erroneous, as Father Gerard escaped from the Tower in 1597.

[^135: P. R. O., Proclamation Book, p. 121.]

[^136: P. R. O., Domestic, Eliz., vol. 165, n. 21.]

“Jhon Gerrarde ye Jhezewt preest that escaip out of the Tower and Richard Blount a Seamry preest of estymacion, and a thirde preest intend to passe our rather after then wth the Lo Imbass at Dovr Rye or thirabowtts upon yt coast.”

“They have provided for a Culler to passe wthout suspycion a Seale lyke a Seale of the Counsall table to bleare the Eyes of Seartchers and officers. Therefore it were not amysse That some order were lefte wth my Lorde Trasorr that he gyve order that the Lres do passe under such a Seale from yr Lls. But under & wth summe prevey mark upon the lres besides the seale. Then any passendgr that carryethe a lre wthowte suche a prevy mrk Is fytt to be stayed for a tyme Until hee bee knowen.”

“Jhon Gerrarde, ye Jhezewt is about 30 years oulde Of a good stature sumwhat higher then Sr Tho Layton & upright in his paysse and countenance sum what stayring in his look or Eyes Currilde heire by Nature & blackyshe & not apt to have much heire of his bearde. I thincke his noase sum what wide and turninge Upp Blubarde Lipps turninge outwards Especially the over Lipps most Uppwards toword the Noase Kewryoos in speetche If he do now contynewe his custome ... And in his speetche he flourrethe & smyles much & a falteringe or Lispinge, or dooblinge of his Tonge in his speeche.”

“Yor honors as you will comāde me.”

“Ric Topclyffe alias.”

Endorsed—“Concerning Gerrard the Priest and others.”

What Sir Thomas Leighton's height may have been we do not know, but in the copy of this description sent by Cecil to Anne, Lady Markham,[^137] a pen has been passed through the words “Sir Thomas Leighton,” and the word “ordinary” is written in its stead. The proclamation was nearer the truth than Topcliffe as to Father Gerard's age, which was then forty-two.

[^137: P. R. O., Domestic, James I., vol. 18, n. 19.]

A correspondence between Cecil and Lady Markham betrays to us an offer made by her “to deliver the person of Gerard into the hands of the State.” Her object was to obtain the pardon and restoration of her husband, Sir Griffin Markham, who was in banishment for having taken part in Watson's conspiracy. One of Cecil's correspondents says,[^138] of “certain lady of Nottinghamshire, called the Lady Markham,” “this more I know, that there is not the like pragmatical-headed lady in this part of England.”

[^138: P. R. O., Domestic, James I., vol. 47, n. 96.]

Her letters[^139] are interesting for the mention of her two servants, who had gone to live with Father Gerard, but still more for the testimony she bears to the general belief entertained by Catholics in Father Gerard's sanctity, and to the improbability in the judgment of all who knew him of his being a party to the Plot.

[^139: P. R. O., Domestic, James I., vol. 16, n. 88; vol. 18, n. 4.]

“Right Honourable,—Your lordship may think me slack in performing that which I so freely made promise of, but the death of my father hath so much appalled me as I am not fit to do as I would. I did hear Mr. Gerard was taken, which something stayed me. Moreover, your lordship hath Mr. Ha. Hurlston in hold, who may direct you the best concerning him of any I know, as also I take it Sir Everard Digby came for Mr. Walley” [Father Garnett]; “but thus it is I cannot learn where Mrs. Vaux is, neither if I knew durst I visit her. And this is most strange to me, neither of those which were my servants comes to me, which makes me think they remove with Mr. Gerard, or are imprisoned, but I rather think they are shifted out of the way, because their attendance will make their master more acceptable, one of them being an exquisite painter and the other a perfect good embroiderer. The painter is a black man, and taller than the embroiderer, whose hair is yellowish, and was called Christopher Parker by his true name. The painter was called Brian Hunston. I am bold to inform you thus largely of them because I verily suppose they attend their wandering friend and master, but where, till I either see them or hear some directions, I cannot imagine; but I protest to your lordship, if I could learn I am resolved he should speak with you, if by any means I could procure it, for I fear this most vile and hateful Plot hath taken deep and dangerous root, because I meet with many that will as easily be persuaded there was no gunpowder laid as that holy good man was an actor in the Plot; and surely the generality did ever so much admire him, that they were happy or blessed in hearing him, and their roof sanctified by his appearance in their house. I am to go shortly into the country. If it would please your lordship to give me leave to send a man to my husband I should be much bound to you, for I cannot tell till I hear from him how to determine of those businesses occasioned by my father's death. I humbly beseech you commiserate my affliction and grant me this poor request, if it stand with your liking, and I shall ever pray for your increase of honour and happiness. So I humbly take my leave this 18th of November, 1605.”

“Your lordship's most humble to command,”
“Anne Markham.”

Endorsed—“The Lady Markham to my Lord.”

“Right Honourable,—Afore I came out of London I sent to know your lordship's pleasure, but mine uncle could not meet with Mr. Lewnus, and indeed I did think my credit was so decayed with the Padre that I could not do as I would, employ my best endeavours to perform thereby to express my great desire of your lordship's good opinion. Now I find either necessity of their part or my two servants' credits hath given me so much power as I shall shortly see Mr. Gerard, but for the day or certain time they are too crafty to appoint, but whensoever I will do my best to keep him within my kenning till I hear from your lordship, and then, my credit preserved, which is dearer to me than life, your command shall be as truly obeyed as if your most trusty servant were commanded. I do perceive there are great business in hand, and your lordship is, next to His Majesty, most shot at, but what the project is I dare not be very inquisitive of, because it is not ripe, as by circumstance I perceive; and I labour to make myself in good estimation with them, which would not be if I covet to know more than they like. This, I protest to God, is only to do service to your lordship. There had been some of them with me ere this, but great occasion hath drawn them to haste into other places, whither I know not. If the watch had continued but two days longer, Mr. Gerard had been pined out at Harrowden. I hear Ric. the butler is close in the Gatehouse, yet your lordship knows that prisons are places of such corruption as money will help letters to their friends to tell what they have been examined of, so they will guess shrewdly how to shift. I have none that I do trust about me with my resolution to do my best endeavours to preserve your lordship, therefore I am enforced to be brief. I beseech you pardon it in me, that writes in fear, but if it please your honour to send your note or directions to mine Uncle Harvey, I will expect till that he send them, and ever pray God to protect you from these most dangerous conspirators. For the true trial of my devotion in that prayer I will most sincerely labour your preservation, so I humbly take my leave this 3rd of January.”

“Your lordship's at command,”
“Anne Markham.”

“To the Right Honourable my very good lord the Earl of Salisbury. Haste this.”

Endorsed—“3rd January, 1605[-6]. Lady Markham to my Lord.”

The following is Cecil's answer.[^140]

[^140: P. R. O., Domestic, James I., vol. 18, n. 19.]

“Madam,—Although I do confess my great mislike of the daily resort and residence of the Priests, and especially the Jesuits, whose end can be no other than of pernicious consequence to this estate, yet, being in hope that warnings would make them retire from further tempting of law, I have used no extraordinary course for their apprehension, being, I confess, full of tenderness in matters of blood. But having now discovered, by many confessions of the late conspirators, that some of these Jesuits have passed so far as to be persuaders and actors in this barbarous conspiracy, which excludeth almost all offices of humanity from men that have softest hearts, I have thought good to take your offer for His Majesty's service, to deliver the person of Gerard (who is one of those) into the hands of the State. For which purpose, although your letter doth not well express what you would have done, whereby both the service may be effected and your name covered; yet I have procured a warrant, here inclosed, which will be sufficient to authorize and command any man to whom you shall direct it, which I have left to your own choice to put in, because I know not who they are which dwell thereabouts in whom you dare repose trust. And unless you have the warrant presently, and in the instant to execute, I know the inconvenience of the protraction. You shall therefore do very well to observe how the warrant is made, and thereby shall you perceive that the party to whomsoever you shall direct it is authorized sufficiently, and will receive this warrant from anybody's hands whom you shall send; so as if you will choose any of your own to carry it to any such gentleman as you shall like, that third party need not say he comes from you, but from some other, and yet he may bring the gentleman that you shall name upon the back of the warrant to execute all things according to your direction. Lastly, madam, this I say unto you, that either your religion is very foul, or you will make no difficulty to discover such a pernicious creature, as differs so far from the rest of the society (as I am persuaded); wherein I will add thus much further, that you shall be an instrument of reflecting His Majesty's good opinion to your husband, and confirm the conceit I have of you, that you would not trouble yourself and me in this kind unless you meant sincerely. And so I commit you to God. From the Court at Whitehall, this 15th of January, 1605[-6].”

“Your ladyship's loving friend,”
“Salisbury.”

“There are only three of your churchmen in this wicked predicament, Gerard, Father Walley, and Father Greeneway, so as it is indifferent to the State which of these be come by. This letter is sent according to your direction to Mr. Stringer, who shall receive it from the next post to him, and the packet to the post is signed by the postmaster's hand, and not by mine, who knoweth not the contents nor anything of you, and yet his hand will make the less suspicion. I desire you to keep safe both this mine own letter and the warrant, because I may have both delivered again hereafter, if there be no cause continuing to use them hereafter, and I will do the like with your letter, which I reserve for you.”

Endorsed—“To the Lady Markham.”

The “certain high personages” with whom he crossed the Channel were the Ambassadors of Spain and Flanders.[^141] The former was the Conde de Villa Mediana, the latter Don Pedro de Zuniga. It is remarkable that, though Topcliffe had said that Father Gerard intended “to pass over rather after than with the Lord Ambassador,” his conspicuous person should have been allowed to pass.

[^141: Bartoli, Inghilterra, p. 586.]

On reaching the Continent in safety, he went, as he tells us, straight to Rome, whence, we learn from Father More,[^142] he was sent to Tivoli for awhile, for rest of mind and body. He was then appointed English Penitentiary in the Basilica of St. Peter,[^143] and this was his field of work till the spring of 1611.[^144]

[^142: Hist. Prov., lib. vii., n. 43, p. 339.]

[^143: Archives of the English College at Rome, Scritture, vol. 30; 1632.]

[^144: Stonyhurst MSS., Father Grene's Miscell. de Coll. Angl., p. 19.]

We have a letter,[^145] dated “this Simon and Jude's daie, 1606,” from Father Andrew Whyte, afterwards the Apostle of Maryland, addressed, “To his especial good friende Mr. Garret geue these att Roome.” It was to ask him to speak to Father Persons to get Richard Green received into the Society, who had been sent to College by Father Gerard, and had been imprisoned “about the time of this late commotion.” Green “was received very kindly” by Father Walley [Garnett] “and provided for very charitably in a manner as one of the Society, with a promise that the year following he should be received without fail;” but now, as “few or none of Father Walley's writings or determinations were found, and Richard Fulwood gone which should have given particular testimony,” Father Whyte begs that “he may either be sent to the Novitiates of other countries with the license of the General, or else may have a promise to be next that is received at Louvain.”

[^145: Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. iii., n. 70.]

XXVIII.

To this Novitiate at Louvain we now turn, as it was thither that Father Gerard was next sent. It was the foundation of Donna Luisa de Carvajal, who by her will[^146] dated Valladolid, Dec. 22, 1604, left 12,000 ducats for the establishment of an English Novitiate. The document is an admirable specimen of true Spanish devotion and humility. After commending her soul to God by the intercession of our Blessed Lady, she proceeds—“For the love of God I humbly pray the Superiors of the Society of Jesus and the Præpositus of the Professed House, as a favour, to grant me some little place in their church where my body may be buried, in consideration of the devotion I have ever entertained for their holy Religious Order: to which Order, in the manner that I have thought would be most to the glory of God, I offer, with the greatest affection, a gift which, though but small, is all that I have. And if a burial-place be refused me in that church, my executors will obtain for me a resting-place in some other church of the Society: and if they are unable to obtain this, let me be buried in some monastery in which, for the love of God, they may be willing to give burial to a poor person like myself; and let my funeral be conducted in accordance with this my poverty. As executors I name Father Richard Walpole, the Vice-Prefect of the English Mission, and the Confessor of the English College in this city, or their successors. After them (and I have named them first from respect to their priestly dignity) I name the Condessa de Miranda, Donna Maria de Zuniga, Donna Maria Gasca, Don Frances de Contreras, Melchior de Molina, and Don Luis de Carrillo e Toledo, Conde de Caracena. First of all I declare that many years ago, when I was with my uncle, I made a vow to God to dedicate all my goods to His glory and greatest service. Then His Divine Majesty gave me large desires and vehement attraction to spend myself above all things for the preservation and advancement of the English Fathers of the Society of Jesus, who sustain that kingdom like strong columns, defend it from an otherwise inevitable ruin, and supply efficacious means of salvation for thousands and thousands of souls. Wherefore I offer them to the most holy Virgin our Lady, I place them under her protection, and I name and leave her universal heir of all my goods.... And I give possession of them henceforward to the most glorious Virgin, and in her name and place to Father Robert Persons, or failing him, to the Father who shall succeed him as Superior of the Mission: but with this condition and obligation, that such goods shall be applied to the founding of a Novitiate of English Religious of the Society of Jesus, in whatever kingdom or part of the world shall seem to Father Persons to be to the greater glory of God. But in the case that England shall be brought back to the faith and obedience of the Roman Church, my will is that the said revenue be transferred into that kingdom, for the foundation of a Novitiate of the Society there, unless it shall seem better to Father Persons, for reasons concerning the Catholic religion, to leave the Novitiate beyond the kingdom.”

[^146: More, Hist. Prov., lib. vii., cap. 3, p. 291.]

Time was not lost in carrying out the intentions of this pious benefactress.[^147] In 1606, Father Persons obtained possession of a large house in Louvain, which had been inhabited by the Knights of Malta, and thus came to be called St. John's, though the church attached to it was dedicated to St. Gregory the Apostle of England and other Saints. Father More, who lived there with Father Gerard, tells us that it was on high ground commanding the whole city; below was a walled garden, and on the slope of the hill pleasant walks amongst the vines which were ranged in terraces, and the whole, though within the city walls, as quiet and calm as befitted a house of prayer.

[^147: More, Hist. Prov., lib. viii., n. 8, p. 355.]

We do not know exactly the date of Father Gerard's arrival at Louvain, or the office to which he was first appointed there. The letter of the 17th August, 1612, to the General, from which we have already given a large extract concerning Mrs. Vaux, is dated from Louvain. It proceeds with an account of a miraculous cure at the intercession of Father Thomas Garnett, the nephew of the Provincial, who was martyred at Tyburn on the 3rd of June, 1608. This father was the first Novice of St. John's, Louvain. That Noviceship commenced in February, 1607, with six Priests, two Scholastics, and five Lay-brothers, Novices, under Father Thomas Talbot as their Novice Master. In 1614, St. John's received students in philosophy and theology, as well as Novices, when a house in the garden was fitted up for the Novitiate and Father Henry Silisdon was installed in St. John's as Rector of the new College. This arrangement did not last long, for at the end of the year the Novitiate was transferred to Liége. No less than fifteen letters have come down to us written by Father Gerard in the year 1614, addressed to the Prefect of the English Mission, Father Thomas Owen, Rector of the English College at Rome. They treat chiefly of the purchase of the new house at Liége, and the transfer of the Novitiate to that city. Some extracts relating to Father Gerard himself will be found interesting. Some of them are signed John Nelson and others John Tomson. In later years he seems to have been known only by the name of Tomson.

The choice of Liége as a residence seems to have been mainly owing to the disquiet caused to the Catholics in the Low Countries by the remonstrances of the English Government. We have some specimens of it in the following extracts, in which we find Father Gerard true to the natural fearlessness of his character. “Concerning[^148] my wariness in avoiding the eyes of spies, I have been all this year more sparing in that kind than divers friends here did think needful, although some one or two did think it dangerous to go any journey, as doubting I might be killed by the way, but this was but according to their accustomed fears with which I have been long acquainted. But, indeed, Father, I am so far from desire to go many journeys, that it is a pain to me to think of going anywhither, and the reason why I never went to any of those places your Reverence mentioneth in this year past (but only the last Lent to Maclin for Mr. Rouse) was not that I thought it dangerous (being known so well to live here public that it cannot be unknown to any spies), nor for that I wanted leave, for I had the other Provincial's particular and willing grant, without my own asking, to go to any place of these countries; but it was because I had rather be at home: and in the town of Lovaine itself, I go not abroad half so much as I think were needful for the contentment of others. I was not at the Teresians, where the Mother of the House (to whom I gave the Exercise four years ago) and Father Scott's[^149] sister do much desire my often coming, any more than once since the last Lent. At the Monastery of St. Monica's, my cousin Shurley hath requested my coming thither for these three or four months, to bestow one afternoon upon her and some younger Nuns whom she hath charge of, that they may altogether ask me what spiritual questions they may like best, and I have never yet found a fit time for it; and, indeed, I doubt I am to blame for it. The gentlemen in the town[^150] I doubt I visit not once in a quarter of a year, and I have some reason to think that either they think me careless of them, or afraid to be seen abroad, as though my case were very dangerous, which would also make them or any other that should come to town more fearful to come into my company, and consequently hinder the little good that I might do with them. But I hope I shall be as wary as your Reverence wisheth, and if this course go forwards of being Rector without the name of Rector, there will be less inconvenience, whosoever see me seeing me still as a private man.” In this he alludes to a plan of his own, that Father Blackfan should have the title of Rector, although he himself had been appointed to the Rectorship of the Novitiate.

[^148: Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. iv., n. 5.]

[^149: This is Father Thomas Laithwaite, also called Kensington (More, Hist. Prov., lib. ix., n. 1, p. 391; supra p. clxxvi).]

[^150: In 1617, Sir Thomas Leeds was Prefect and Sir Ralph Babthorpe Secretary of the Congregation of the Blessed Virgin at Louvain (Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. iv., n. 47). A considerable number of Catholic families had settled in Louvain, and in 1614 they were disturbed by a summons to appear in England under pain of losing their possessions. On a remonstrance being made by the Spanish Ambassador, King James disclaimed the summons, on which the magistrates of Louvain expelled the pursuivant from the town (More, Hist. Prov., lib. ix., n. 10, p. 406).]

The next letter is dated April 6, 1614.[^151] “I have yours of the 15th March, and see in that, as in all of yours, your fatherly care of me, which, by the grace of God, I will labour to deserve. I am well satisfied with Father General's order, and shall endeavour to get this building finished for the Novitiate as soon as I can, and then will settle to my book as much as my health and letters will permit.... Having writ thus far, I was called to go to Bruxels with Father Rector (by Father Blacfan's and Father Percy his advice) to speak with the Duke's[^152] Secretary, who telling Father Percy the last week that the Agent did solicit against me, and that he could not well answer him, unless he delivered him some reasons in writing for my innocency, this writing was promised him by Father Percy; but I being loath to have any such writing sent, as thinking it the likeliest means to raise a new persecution against me, though for the Secretary's satisfaction we drew and delivered him a brief note of four or five effectual proofs, yet both to the Secretary first, and afterwards to the Nuncio, I told this day that if any such writing were sent it would do me great harm, for Canterbury having such a writing would doubtless show it at the Council table, and then those lords who secretly do know me to be innocent, and wish me well, will be, as it were, forced to speak against me, lest they should seem to favour me, and so the King should be more incensed. The Nuncio did promise Father Rector and me that he would seriously deal both with the Secretary and the Prince himself in the cause.”

[^151: Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. iv., n. 6.]

[^152: The Archduke Albert, Governor of Flanders.]

Writing under date April 18, 1614,[^153] he shows that he thinks that too much importance had been given to the Agent's interference. “I think your Reverence was made to believe by letters sent about Easter, that there was some new troubles against me here, out of England, and consequently that there was need of such information to the Nuncio and Father Provincial as had been given. But when I heard of it, I said it was nothing but Trumbol his own device, in hope to work upon the weakness of the Prince; and so now it proves, for I am going to the Secretary himself with our Father Rector, as I wrote from Bruxells, and giving him a paper of some few points for my innocency, with the request he would not deliver it, but show it if he would to the Agent. The Secretary answered he would advertise me if it were needful; but since the note was showed unto Trumbol, and he showed to be satisfied with it, and afterwards meeting the Secretary told him that he took it to be only matter of religion; but that being now made matter of State, he, being a servant employed in matter of State, could not but seek to concur with them that employed him, as it were granting that himself was satisfied, and yielding a reason why he had moved the matter. And this being understood both by the Prince and the Nuncio, they were very glad of it.... I write this from Maclin, whither Sir William [Stanley] was desirous to have me come for his comfort now and after the death and funeral of his lady.”

[^153: Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. iv., n. 7.]

But such a man as Father Gerard was not likely to be left in peace in those intriguing times. In the August following, Father Silisdon writes to Father Owen.[^154] “Even now I have advice that His Majesty of England hath made two complaints to the Prince, and that the first is against Father Gerard's being in his dominions.” The consequence was that a transfer to another territory became desirable, and Father Gerard set his heart on migrating with his Novices to Liége. He writes from that city, under the signature of John Nelson, Sept. 19, 1614.[^155] “There be many causes to be alleged why here, rather than in any place; as the commodity of dealing with our English in the summer, the opportunity of keeping our Novices unknown, the excellent seat far beyond Lovaine, and that bestowed on us, the present helps sent for this beginning, with great likelihood of much more; the great favour which is to be expected from this Prince and his family, and is to be strengthened by my two cousins, Sir William and Mr. Morton, and Sir William hath written to him that he doth much joy in his cousin who is there to be Rector.” The two cousins of whom Father Gerard here speaks were two very powerful friends. The one was Sir William Stanley, who showed himself a kind friend to Father Gerard and his charge by negotiating the purchase of the property at Liége in his own name, and advancing the purchase money—at least, that portion of it which had to be paid down[^156]—probably (as Father Gerard speaks of the “seat being bestowed upon us”) regarding it as a gift. Whatever else was requisite for the purchase was provided by Brother William Browne, who, though[^157] grandson, brother, and uncle of Viscounts Montague,—his grandfather was Queen Mary's Ambassador to the Holy See—was himself content to spend his life in the humble duties of a Jesuit Lay-brother.

[^154: Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. iv., n. 17.]

[^155: Ibid., n. 22.]

[^156: Father Gerard bought a house and ten acres of land; and the price was less than “200l. in present money and the rent of 30l. with which the house and grounds are already charged, which then we may redeem by little and little, as we get friends to buy it out” (Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. iv., n. 23). As the rent could be redeemed at fifteen years' purchase, the whole price was thus under 650l.]

[^157: More, Hist. Prov., lib. ix., n. II, p. 406.]

The “Mr. Morton” was Sir George Talbot of Grafton, afterwards ninth Earl of Shrewsbury. He was a scholar of some repute,[^158] and an intimate friend of Maximilian, Duke of Bavaria. As Ferdinand, the Prince-Bishop of Liége, was Maximilian's brother, it was no little help to Father Gerard to be on “cousinly” terms with George Talbot. The Duke became a generous benefactor to the new House at Liége. In 1618 he sent Father Gerard, through Sir George Talbot, 5,000 florins for the Noviceship.[^159] In a letter dated Jan. 25, 1620, the Duke writes to Father Gerard, who had promised to pray that he might have a son: “I bound myself once by vow to your Blessed Ignatius, that if he would obtain this favour for me, I would give my son the name of Ignatius, and would build and endow a College of the Society wherever Father General might judge it most useful. What if God should purpose thus to provide for you?”[^160] In July of the same year he wrote: “We have sent you a contribution of 1,300 German florins by Father Mayer for a tabernacle for the Blessed Sacrament, and for a niche for an image of the Blessed Virgin.” Even after Father Gerard's departure from the House, Duke Maximilian's liberality to it did not fail. Father Silisdon, Father Gerard's successor as Master of Novices, removed the Novitiate to Watten,[^161] and not long after the Duke settled a permanent endowment upon the College of Liége, which was begun in the House that Father Gerard had established.

[^158: “Sir Basil Brooke telleth that our German friend is very well at his house, and in protection of the King, that Canterbury has used him very kindly, and entreated him, as one whose scholarship is famous, to make use of his library [as] it shall please him.” Father Silisdon to Father Owen, August 25, 1614. Endorsed by Father Owen—“Sir Geo. Talbott well entertained by K. and Cant.” (Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. iv., n. 17).]

[^159: More, Hist. Prov., lib. ix., n. 15, p. 414.]

[^160: Ibid., pp. 415, 424. Maximilian had two sons by his second wife, Mary Anne of Austria, when he was over 60 years of age, and the eldest he named Ignatius.]

[^161: The Priory of Watten, with its revenue of 3000 florins of Brabant, was transferred to the Society in 1611 by James Blase, O. S. F., Bishop of St. Omers. The proposal had been approved of by the King of Spain in 1604, and by Pope Paul V. in 1607, but the jealousy of the English felt by the Archduke Albert delayed the establishment of an English Novitiate there till his death in 1622 (More, Hist. Prov., lib. vii., nn. 5-7, lib. ix., n. 17, pp. 294-298, 416).]

Father Gerard's Socius or “Compagnion,” as he calls him, was Father Henry More, subsequently the historian of the Province. When discussing, before his appointment, those Fathers who were fitted for that office, after mentioning others, he says: “Father Nicholson is far short of either of them for my turn, for he is no good Latinist, I think little better than myself, though he be much better scholar; neither hath he any other language but Spanish, of which I shall have small use. Father Henry More hath French well, Dutch prettily, and Italian sufficiently, besides Spanish very well, and Latin as I would wish him.”[^162]

[^162: Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. iv., n. 20.]

As to his first Novices, he had twelve, which made what he styled “a pretty beginning.”[^163] They were “the two that expect at Liége, the two that are come from Rome, and four out of Spain, with Mr. Lewkner and Mr. Whitmore, besides Grafton, when he comes, and a tailor now servant in this house, who by all judgments here is as fit to be received as Brother Silvester, the young tailor now in the Noviceship, is fit to be dismissed.”[^164]

[^163: They soon increased in numbers, for in 1617 Father More says there was a Community at Liége of 45, of whom 30 were Novices (p. 424).]

[^164: Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. iv., n. 29.]

Of the two that “expected at Liége,” a previous letter had said, “Here be also Mr. Mansel and Mr. Owen Shelley, by the names of Mr. Griffin and Mr. Titchborn: both expect, the first with some loathness to stay long, the second is wholly resigned. The first is a pious man, and to those that know his fashion will be profitable for some uses in the Society, but the second will be practical and fit for anything, and in truth I think he will do very well.”[^165] This Father Owen Shelley was afterwards Rector of the College of Liége, and justified Father Gerard's judgment of his character.

[^165: Ibid., n. 23.]

Amongst the “four which are come out of Spain” were two that must have constantly served to remind their Rector at Liége of the Gunpowder Plot, as the remonstrances of King James' Agent had managed to do at Louvain. “One of them,” he says, “is akin to Father Garnett, and of his name, though we call him Gilford, as he was called at St. Omers. William Ellis, but we call him John Williams, for he was page[^166] to Sir Everard Digby, and taken with him, though he might have escaped, for his master offered him horse and money to shift for himself, but the youth said he would live and die with him; and so, being taken, was condemned at Stafford, and should have been executed. He was offered to have his life if he would go to their church, which he refused. In the end they saved him and some others. He never [yielded] in the least point. He hath good friends near Sir Everard Digby's whom I know, and he is heir to 80l. a year, if his father do him right.”[^167]

[^166: Infra p. 110.]

[^167: Stonyhurst, MSS., Angl. A., vol. iv., n. 29.]

At the close of this short notice of Father Gerard's Rectorship it will be but right to record an unfavourable judgment passed upon him, as it will help us to form a true appreciation of his character. It is the only instance that has come down to us of blame on the part of one of his own brethren. “I see a general fear in all ours, those of best judgment, of the success of Father Nelson's government, and unless he hath a companion that may moderate him, his zeal will, I fear, carry him too far; and I fear it so much the more because I see him loath to have anybody with him who is likely to propose anything to him contrary to his own zealous desires.” This is in a confidential letter[^168] from Father Silisdon to Father Owen, dated Oct. 31, 1614, so that, as it was written before the transfer to Liége, it was a misgiving lest he should be indiscreet as a Rector, rather than a judgment on his actual conduct as a Superior.

[^168: Ibid., n. 31.]

XXIX.

During his residence at Liége, amongst Father Gerard's correspondents were two venerable servants of God, Robert Cardinal Bellarmine, and Father Luis de la Puente, better known by the Latinized form of his name, de Ponte. As by a man's friends we can obtain an insight into his character, we have thought it desirable to give the few letters from these two holy men to Father Gerard that have come down to us. Cardinal Bellarmine's autograph is preserved at Stonyhurst.[^169] We translate the letter from the original Latin.

[^169: Ibid., vol. iii., n. 107.]

“Very Rev. and beloved Father in Christ,—I have received your Reverence's letter dated from Liége the 23rd November, with the little presents inclosed in it, an English knife, a little case (either bone or ivory, I do not know which), and three small toothpicks. I do not know whether these were sent me for use, or as having some special meaning. Whichever it be they were welcome, as a proof of friendship and brotherhood.”

“The memory of that excellent Mr. Oliver,[^170] whose acquaintance I made very late, has brought me no little sadness, or rather grief, not on his account, who is translated from this world to the joys of Paradise, but for the sake of many whom without doubt he would have converted to a good life if Divine Providence had permitted him to live awhile longer. But the good pleasure of God must ever be fulfilled, and the very same, in order that it may be fulfilled, must ever be pleasing to us under all circumstances.”

“I was pleased to read what your Reverence relates in your letter of your journeys; of your office of Master of Novices; of the building which you have bought at Liége; of the visitation of His Serene Highness Ferdinand, the Prince-Bishop of Liége, and of the promise that the Priory, at its next vacancy, shall be applied to the College. If my assistance in carrying this out can be of any use to you with the Pope, it shall not be wanting.”

“Of Dr. Singleton I have heard much, and have defended him to the best of my power, as long as I could, but the party opposed to him has prevailed. Nor do I see how I can help him at so great a distance, and especially as I should be suspected, because I am a Jesuit. The devil is envious of the harmony between the English at Douay and the Fathers of the Society, for which the good Cardinal Allen cared so much; but all means must be tried to re-establish a true and sincere friendship, and agreement in teaching; otherwise a kingdom divided against itself shall be brought to desolation. For many reasons I say freely that nothing can be done by me in his behalf; first, as I was just saying, because I should be under suspicion, being a Jesuit. Then because I am an old man of seven-and-seventy years of age, and I daily expect the dissolution of my tabernacle. Thirdly, because I cannot think of any manner in which I could help him. The common way of helping men of this sort is to give them ecclesiastical benefices, but here in Rome the multitude of those who aspire to and seek after such benefits is so great that their number is almost infinite. Nor are they only Italians, but Spaniards also, Frenchmen, Germans, who look for nothing but benefices at Rome. I myself, who was thought to have some influence with the Pope, have laboured for more than ten years for a Spaniard, an excellent man and a great friend of mine, to obtain for him a good benefice falling vacant in his own country. I could say the same of Flemish and German friends of mine. What then would be the case with English people, in whose country there are no ecclesiastical benefices for Catholics? But, since these temporal things are nothing when compared to eternal benefices, our friend Dr. Singleton must not be cast down if our Lord treats him now, as of old He treated His Apostles, who He willed should enter into the Kingdom of Heaven through many tribulations. But I must not be too lengthy, for I know that both he and your Reverence stand in no need of my exhortations. I know that your Reverence will have hard work to read my bad writing, but Father Coffin[^171] would have it that I should write to you with my own hand.”

“With this I bid your Reverence farewell. Commend me to the prayers of Dr. Singleton, and of all your College; but your Reverence's self especially, for our old friendship and brotherhood, must diligently commend me to the Lord our God.”

“From Rome, on Christmas Day, December 25, 1618.[^172]”

“Your Reverence's brother and servant in Christ,”

“Robert Card. Bellarmine.”

“To the Very Rev. Father John Tomson, S.J.,”
“Rector of the College of the English Novices at Liége.”

[^170: This would appear to be a mention of the death of the ‘son and brother of an Earl,’ Sir Everard Digby's great friend, who was converted when holding some office in personal attendance on King James, and, after his conversion, received the King's leave to go to Italy (supra p. clxvi.). The intermediate link is furnished in Father Gerard's letter to Father Aquaviva, Louvain, August 17, 1612 (Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. iii., n. 111). ‘Now at length our friend Oliver has passed over from Paris to England, for the Treasurer is gone, his and all good men's enemy.’ [Robert Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, died May 24, 1612] ‘and others are about to succeed him, who, as we hope, entertain for Oliver an ancient and particular affection. Besides, his eldest brother is dead, and the second brother left inheritor of all the honours and wealth, so that a manifold occasion is offered to this our friend of helping himself in temporal affairs, and others to some extent in spiritual and greater goods. Summoned by his family he has left in haste, humbly asking your Paternity's benediction; in the efficacy of which he disregards all that heretical fury or perverse malice can invent against him. The King is going this summer to his brother the new Earl's castle, to remain there awhile for hunting. Perhaps Oliver will take that occasion of presenting himself to the King, who liked him when he was in his service before he entered the service of God, and whom he has never offended in anything, except in choosing to be an abject in the House of God, rather than to dwell in the tabernacles of men.’ We have here the necessary data for determining that the convert in question was Sir Oliver Manners, fourth son of John fourth Earl of Rutland, knighted at Belvoir Castle, April 22, 1603, by James I. on his coming from Scotland. The eldest brother Roger, fifth Earl, married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Philip Sidney, and died without issue, June 26, 1612, when he was succeeded by his brother Francis.]

[^171: Father Edward Coffin was Confessor of the English College for nearly twenty years. He was succeeded by Father Gerard, who held the same office for the last fifteen years of his life.]

[^172: Dr. Oliver has misread this date 1611. Cardinal Bellarmine was born October 4, 1542, so that he would be in his seventy-seventh year in 1618-9.]

The two letters which have come down to us, addressed to Father Gerard by the venerable Father Luis de la Puente, were written just as his residence[^173] at Liége was drawing to a close. We translate from Father Grene's transcript of the originals.[^174]

[^173: Dr. Oliver says that Father Silisdon succeeded Father Gerard as Rector and Master of Novices in 1620, and transferred the Novitiate to Watten in 1622. Father More (Hist. Prov., p. 416) may certainly so be understood, but it is clear from the Florus Anglo-Bavaricus (p. 11) that Father Gerard was Rector in March, 1622, and that the transfer to Watten took place in 1625. And in the Archives of the English College at Rome (Scritture, vol. 30), in a notice of him written in 1632, he is said to have been Rector of the English Noviceship at Liége for eight years.]

[^174: Stonyhurst MSS., P., vol. ii., f. 532.]

“I. H. S.”

“P.C.”

“When I received your Reverence's letters, I was unable to answer them at once, for I was suffering from extreme weakness, which usually afflicts me every year all through the winter. Blessed be our great God, from Whose providence come health and sickness, life and death, and whatever prosperity and adversity there is in this world. The height of felicity in this life is to be superior to all these things, seeking only God's good pleasure in all things, for life in His will, and health, honour, happiness, spiritual progress, and all sanctity consist in the fulfilment of the will of God: and so every day I would that at every breath I could say, May Thy most holy and most sweet will be done in me, concerning me, and by me and about me, in all things and by all things, now and always and for ever. Amen.[^175] God always pours His spirit of prayer into those who so submit their will to His; wherefore the Psalmist says—‘Be subject unto the Lord and pray to Him,’ for when any one with prompt obedience and entire resignation humbly submits himself to God, God Himself, Who does the will of those that fear Him, in a certain way is made subject to him, so that He does whatever is asked, God becoming obedient to the voice of a man—not of any man soever, but of the man who obeys God. Oh, wonderful power of prayer and of obedience! Let us pray, my Father, that we may be perfectly obedient, and let us obey, that we may be able to pray, and to speak worthily with God.”

“It will help wonderfully both one and the other, to meditate profoundly on these two things: to wit, Who God is in Himself, and what He is towards us, and then what we are of ourselves, and what towards God. For whilst I think of God, His Trinity and Unity, most beautiful, most wise, most holy, most full of love for me, immense and everywhere present, the fountain of all good things that are in me and beyond me, from Whom I myself depend, and all that is mine, and everything that I use and enjoy, how can I do otherwise than love Him with all my strength? How shall I not praise Him and thank Him constantly? How shall I not give my whole self to His service? And these affections become the more ardent as I ponder that I have nothing of myself; that I am nothing, and that I and all that is mine would be reduced to nothing unless I were preserved by Him. Now whilst, within this immensity of God, I consider what I have been and what I am towards Him, I am horrified and tremble as I ponder on my malice, my ingratitude, my slothfulness. Hence arise feelings of hatred of self, of humiliation and self-denial, and various acts and exercises of penance, which not only nourish humility by which a man, through a truthful knowledge of himself, becomes vile to himself, but they also arouse a most ardent charity by which he loves his Supreme Benefactor, Who has conferred and still confers so many and such great benefits on one who is ungrateful and unworthy. Thus the mind is elevated to perfect contemplation and union with God Himself, and, as it were forgetful of itself, is immersed in Him, or rather God hides it in the concealment of His countenance from all disturbance of men.”

“Here is a short epitome of my mystical theology, which I have put out at rather greater length in my book; but why should I teach these things to a doctor of others and my own master? Surely I have become foolish, but your letters compelled me. Would that you would help me by your prayers, that what I write in my letters I may perform in deed. Forgive my humble and poor style, for I know not any more elegant; but I am sure that you do not care for words, but for the sense that is in the words. I value very highly the cross which you have sent me, and I will always bear it with me. I hope, by the intercession of the Blessed Virgin, who appeared in that tree,[^176] and who confers such benefits on those who are there and those who visit her, that I may be a partaker of those benefits, for though I am absent in the body I am present in spirit.”

“I humbly commend myself to the Holy Sacrifices of your Reverence.”

“Your Reverence's unworthy servant in Christ,”

“[Cross] Ludovicus de Ponte. [Cross]”

“Valladolid, March 23, 1621.”

Postscript—“By God's help I have finished a great work. Its title is, Expositio Moralis in Canticum Canticorum, containing exhortations on all the mysteries and virtues of the Christian religion. It is divided into two volumes, and each volume into five books. The arrangement is new and singular, but not without foundation in the Sacred Text. The matter is grave in itself, and very copious, taken out of Holy Scripture and the holy Fathers. The style is humble, but clear and chaste, and not out of harmony with matter that is spiritual and sacred, and therefore elevated. It is printed at Paris, and will soon reach Germany and Belgium. Would that it may be to the glory of God, the edification of the Church, and of use to one's neighbour.”

[^175: Fiat in me, de me et per me, et circa me, sanctissima et dulcissima voluntas Tua, in omnibus et per omnia, nunc et semper ac in æternum. Amen (MS.).]

[^176: An allusion, no doubt, to one of the Belgian Sanctuaries of our Blessed Lady, perhaps that at Montaigu.]

The other letter from the same Father was written in reply to one from Father Gerard announcing that he was about to leave Belgium.

“I. H. S.”

“P.C.”

“May the Almighty and most pitiful Lord accompany you in the journey that you begin, for with such a Guide and Companion you will be everywhere safe and cheerful, and making true progress. Let Him ever dwell in your memory, understanding, and will, for His most sweet providence especially protects those who make their journeys from obedience to Superiors, as Jacob did, who at his father's bidding journeyed through the desert into Mesopotamia, where he heard the voice of the Lord, which said to him, ‘I will be thy Keeper whithersoever thou goest.’ Trusting to this hope, and protected by this guardianship, you will happily fulfil what you have begun.”

“I commend myself to your Reverence's Sacrifices and prayers, for my weakness oppresses me much; but may the will of God be done in me and about me in all things and by all things, to Whom concerning all things be glory for ever. Amen.”

“[Cross] Ludovicus de la Puente. [Cross]”

“Valladolid, Feb. 2, 1622.”

With these saintly words our materials for writing the life of Father John Gerard abruptly fail us. Beyond what has been recorded we only know that he was sent first to Spain, and then to Rome, which he reached Jan. 15, 1623.[^177] He was Confessor to the English College till his death, July 27, 1637, at the ripe age of seventy-three, and upwards.

[^177: Stonyhurst MSS., Father Grene's Miscell. de Coll. Angl., p. 19, quoting “Baines his diary.”]

XXX.

In this Autobiography Father Gerard has laid before us his life in all the freedom and unreserve of a confidential communication with his Religious brethren and Superiors. It is not possible, we are convinced, for any impartial person to rise from its perusal without a deep conviction that Father Gerard was a gentleman and a Christian, a man of honour and religious principle; and in many cases this sense of his integrity will be accompanied with some of that personal regard and affection with which he inspired those who lived in intimacy with him. He bore too much for principle, and made too great sacrifices, for us to think that he would deliberately and perseveringly commit sin to free himself from blame. Yet this is the supposition that is involved in an attack upon his veracity in the compilation of his Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot.

It is quite true that he, and many others, considered themselves justified, when their own lives or those of innocent persons were at stake, in the use of assertions that were simple falsehoods in the ordinary sense of the terms employed. These they called equivocations; and we find no trace in the period of which we are writing of the modern sense of the word, that is, of a true expression which is really beside the point, though it is so employed that it is very unlikely to be seen to be so by the person to whom it is addressed, who thus is said rather to be suffered to deceive himself than to be deceived. Practically the distinction is hard to draw, and it has the disadvantage of seeming to make the morality of the expression depend on the quickness and readiness of the person in danger, who may be able to think of phrases containing a real ambiguity but which yet would throw the hearers off the right scent.

According to modern feeling, Father Gerard would have been quite justified in examining the trees and hedges in search of a falcon[^178] he had not lost, and inquiring of all he met whether they had heard the tinkling of the bird's bells, although it was to make them think that he had lost a falcon, in other words, to deceive them; but by the same modern feeling he would be held to be guilty of a lie when he said that he was the servant of a lord in a neighbouring county, though he might, without guilt, have worn that lord's livery as a disguise if he could have obtained it, which would have been a more effectual deception than any words.

[^178: Supra p. xxi.]

Again, according to modern judgment, John Lilly would be held guilty of a lie when he said[^179] of Gerard's books and manuscripts, “They are mine;” but quite guiltless when, with the same intention of making the magistrates believe him to be a Priest when he was not, he said, “I do not say I am a Priest, that is for you to prove.” Yet the latter expression was far more likely to deceive than the former. It was more like what a Priest, under the circumstances, would have said. Present feeling would condemn him of a lie for saying simply, that the books were his, when it would acquit him if he had thought of using far more deceptive expressions, such as “I am not bound to compromise myself by saying whose they are.”

[^179: Supra p. cxl.]

The only difference between modern morality and that on which Father Gerard acted was that now-a-days men say, “Have recourse to evasions.” Then men said, “Say what you like, it is their fault if they think it true.” It is evident that of the two courses of proceeding, the plain-spoken old way is the least open to abuse. No one certainly would have recourse to it excepting from a well-weighed plea of a sorrowful necessity. Whereas, on the other hand, evasions are not startling, and the conscience may lay but little stress on the presence or absence of justifying circumstances. For it is most necessary to bear seriously in mind that all Catholic divines then held, and now hold, that to make use of equivocation excepting under those peculiar circumstances that make it lawful, is in itself a sin, and thus no escape from the sin of lying. So Father Garnett plainly said when on his trial,[^180] “As I say it is never lawful to equivocate in matters of faith, so also in matters of human conversation, it may not be used promiscually or at our pleasure, as in matters of contract, in matters of testimony, or before a competent judge, or to the prejudice of any third person: in which cases we judge it altogether unlawful.”

[^180: Infra p. 244.]

It is but fair that, in reading the narrative of times when many lives hung on successful disguise and concealment, we should remember that the modern sense of equivocation was then unknown. Protestant moralists have spoken out their minds plainly enough on this subject.

“Great English authors, Jeremy Taylor, Milton, Paley, Johnson, men of very distinct schools of thought, distinctly say that under certain extreme circumstances it is allowable to tell a lie. Taylor says: ‘To tell a lie for charity, to save a man's life, the life of a friend, of a husband, of a prince, of a useful and a public person, hath not only been done at all times, but commended by great and wise and good men. Who would not save his father's life, at the charge of a harmless lie, from persecutors or tyrants?’ Again, Milton says: ‘What man in his senses would deny that there are those whom we have the best ground for considering that we ought to deceive, as boys, madmen, the sick, the intoxicated, enemies, men in error, thieves? I would ask, by which of the Commandments is lying forbidden? You will say, by the ninth. If then my lie does not injure my neighbour, certainly it is not forbidden by this Commandment.’ Paley says: ‘There are falsehoods which are not lies, that is, which are not criminal.’ Johnson: ‘The general rule is, that truth should never be violated; there must, however, be some exceptions. If, for instance, a murderer should ask you which way a man is gone.’”[^181]

[^181: Apologia pro Vita sua, by John Henry Newman, D.D. London, 1864, p. 418. The reader's attention is earnestly called to Dr. Newman's treatment of this subject, both at the page quoted, and in the Appendix, p. 72. To the Protestant authors quoted above may be added Mr. Froude (History of England, vol. ii., ch. vi., p. 57, note). “It seems obvious that a falsehood of this sort is different in kind from what we commonly mean by unveracity, and has no affinity with it.... Rahab of Jericho did the same thing which Dalaber did” [a Protestant, who gave false answers and swore to them, to save Garret, his fellow] “and on that very ground was placed in the catalogue of Saints.”]

This language would not have been used by Catholics. With them the word “lie” signified a simple falsehood; and an “equivocation” was a false expression used under such circumstances that if they to whom it was addressed were deceived by it, it was their own fault. They had then no right to the truth, and even in some cases it would have been a sin to tell them the truth.

In substance, however, though not in form, the doctrine of Gerard, Southwell, and Garnett, was the same as that of Taylor, Milton, and Johnson. But to confine ourselves to the practice of Father Gerard, this doctrine is not necessary for his defence, and if his conduct be fairly examined, he will be held, even from the modern point of view, to have done no wrong. Protestant moralists, as we have seen, permit men under certain circumstances to tell a lie with intent to deceive. And Catholic moralists permit under such circumstances assertions which would lead the hearers to deceive themselves by neglecting to advert to the limit of the speaker's obligation to tell the truth. But with regard to Father Gerard's legal interrogations, we may waive the question whether they are right or wrong in their morality, for we see clearly that he so expressed himself as to show that his words were not intended to be believed.

The real parallel to them, alleged by Gerard himself, as we shall shortly see, is the prisoner's usual plea of “Not guilty.” This is the only form in which the question is now put to a person accused. But in those days the question was put over and over again, and in every variety of form. To deny was really to plead “Not guilty,” and if this be lawful once, it was lawful whenever they were forced to repeat it. Not only was it a capital offence to be a Priest within the realm, but it was high treason to be reconciled to the Church, or absolved by a Priest, or to harbour or comfort one. Thus the interrogations addressed to prisoners were always intended to make them criminate themselves or others; that is, in the one case to cause them to plead guilty, so that they might be condemned to death on their own confessions; or, in the other case, to force them to become Queen's evidence, and be accessory to the infliction upon others of the extremest penalties enacted by an unjust law.

The first instance that occurs in Father Gerard's Life, is that when, after his apprehension, on being questioned he declared that he was quite unacquainted with the family of the Wisemans, and those who were examining him betrayed their informer by crying out, “What lies you tell! Did you not say so-and-so before such a lady as you read your servant's letter?” Then he adds, “But I still denied it, giving them good reasons however why, even if it had been true, I could and ought to have denied it.”[^182]

[^182: Supra p. li.]

Another time[^183] he was confronted with three servants of Lord Henry Seymour, who avouched that he had dined with their mistress and her sister, the Lady Mary Percy, that it was in Lent, and they told how their mistress ate meat, while Lady Mary and Father Gerard ate nothing but fish. “Young flung this charge in my teeth with an air of triumph, as though I could not help acknowledging it, and thereby disclosing some of my acquaintances. I answered that I did not know the men whom he had brought up.”

[^183: Supra p. lxviii.]

“‘But we know you,’ said they, ‘to be the same that was at such a place on such a day.’”

“‘You wrong your mistress,’ said I, ‘in saying so. I, however, will not so wrong her.’”

“‘What a barefaced fellow you are!’ exclaimed Young.”

“‘Doubtless,’ I answered, ‘were these men's statements true. As for me, I cannot in conscience speak positively in the matter, for reasons that I have often alleged; let them look to the truth and justice of what they say.’”

A third instance is the interview[^184] between Father Gerard and the widow Wiseman, in the presence of the Dean of Westminster, Topcliffe, and others. “They wanted to see if she recognized me. So when I came into the room where they brought me, I found her already there. When she saw me coming in with the gaolers, she almost jumped for joy; but she controlled herself, and said to them: ‘Is that the person you spoke of? I do not know him; but he looks like a Priest.’”

[^184: Supra p. lxxxii.]

“Upon this she made me a very low reverence, and I bowed in return. Then they asked me if I did not recognize her?”

“I answered: ‘I do not recognize her. At the same time, you know this is my usual way of answering, and I will never mention any places, or give the names of any persons that are known to me (which this lady, however, is not); because to do so, as I have told you before, would be contrary both to justice and charity.’”

Lastly, when examined[^185] by the Attorney General, after having received a letter from Father Garnett, warning him to prepare himself for death, and after having freely confessed that he was a Priest and a Jesuit, and that he had reconciled others to the Pope, and drawn them away from the faith and religious profession which was approved in England, “answers,” he says himself, “which furnished quite sufficient matter for my condemnation, according to their laws,” and after having denied that he had meddled in political matters; his examination proceeded as follows.

[^185: Supra p. cxiv.]

“Hereupon Mr. Attorney kept silence for a time, and then he began afresh to ask me what Catholics I knew; did I know such-and-such? I answered, ‘I do not know them.’ And I added the usual reasons why I should still make the same answer even if I did know them.[^186] Upon this, he digressed to the question of equivocation, and began to inveigh against Father Southwell, because on his trial he denied that he knew the woman who was brought forward to accuse him.[^187] She swore that he had come to her father's house and was received there as a Priest; this he positively denied, though he had been taken in that house and was found in a hiding-place, having been betrayed by this wretched woman. (A dutiful daughter truly, who thus betrayed to death both her spiritual and her natural father! Christ our Lord, however, came not to send peace, but a sword to divide between the good and the bad; and in this case he divided the bad daughter from the good parents.) Good Father Southwell, then, though he marvelled at the impudence of this miserable wench, yet denied what she asserted, and gave good reasons for his denial, well knowing and solidly proving that it was not lawful for him to do otherwise, lest he should add to the injury of those who were already suffering for the Faith, and for charity shown to him. Taking this occasion, therefore, he showed very learnedly that it was lawful in some cases, nay, even necessary perhaps, to use equivocation; which doctrine he established and confirmed by strong arguments and copious authorities, drawn as well from Holy Scripture as from the writings of the Doctors of the Church.”

[^186: Ostendi non esse hoc falsum dicere (MS.).]

[^187: This was the wretched Anne Bellamy, a young Catholic gentlewoman, who for some overbold denunciation of the persecutors was given into the custody of the ruffian Topcliffe, and was so deeply depraved by him, as to be brought to the almost incredible infamy of serving as his tool to inveigle and betray Priests.]

“The Attorney General inveighed much against this, and tried to make out that this was to foster lying, and so destroy all reliable communications between men, and, therefore, all bonds of society. I, on the other hand, maintained that this was not falsehood, nor supposed an intention of deceiving, which is necessary to constitute a lie, but merely a keeping back of the truth, and that where one is not bound to declare it: consequently there is no deception, because nothing is refused which the other has a right to claim. I showed, moreover, that our doctrine did no way involve a destruction of the bonds of society, because the use of equivocation is never allowed in making contracts, since all are bound to give their neighbour his due, and in making of contracts truth is due to the party contracting. It should be remarked also, I said, that it is not allowed to use equivocation in ordinary conversation to the detriment of plain truth and Christian simplicity, much less in matters properly falling under the cognizance of civil authority,[^188] since it is not lawful to deny even a capital crime if the accused is questioned juridically. He asked me, therefore, what I considered a juridical questioning. I answered that the questioners must be really superiors and judges in the matter under examination; then, the matter itself must be some crime hurtful to the common weal, in order that it may come under their jurisdiction; for sins merely internal were reserved for God's judgment. Again, there must be some trustworthy testimony brought against the accused; thus, it is the custom in England that all who are put on their trial, when first asked by the Judge if they are guilty or not, answer, ‘Not guilty,’ before any witness is brought against them, or any verdict found by the jury; and though they answer the same way, whether really guilty or not, yet no one accuses them of lying. Therefore I laid down this general principle, that no one is allowed to use equivocation except in the case when something is asked him, either actually or virtually, which the questioner has no right to ask, and the declaration of which will turn to his own hurt, if he answers according to the intention of the questioner. I showed that this had been our Lord's practice, and that of the Saints. I showed that it was the practice of all prudent men, and would certainly be followed by my interrogators themselves in case they were asked about some secret sin, for example, or were asked by robbers where their money was hid.”

[^188: In subornatâ gubernatione Reipublicæ (MS.). There is clearly some blunder here. Probably we ought to read ‘subordinatâ;’ yet, even so, the phrase is not very intelligible. We have judged of the sense intended, by the context.]

“They asked me, therefore, when our Lord ever made use of equivocations; to which I replied, ‘When He told His Apostles that no one knew the Day of Judgment, not even the Son of Man; and again, when He said that He was not going up to the Festival at Jerusalem, and yet He went; yea, and He knew that He should go when He said He would not.’”

“Wade here interrupted me, saying, ‘Christ really did not know the Day of Judgment, as Son of Man.’”

“‘It cannot be,’ said I, ‘that the Word of God Incarnate, and with a human nature hypostatically united to God, should be subject to ignorance; nor that He Who was appointed Judge by God the Father should be ignorant of those facts which belonged necessarily to His office; nor that He should be of infinite wisdom, and yet not know what intimately concerned Himself.’ In fact, these heretics do not practically admit what the Apostle teaches (though they boast of following his doctrines), namely, that all the fulness of the Divinity resided corporally in Christ, and that in Him were all the treasures of the wisdom and knowledge of God. It did not, however, occur to me at the moment to adduce this passage of St. Paul.”

In every one of these instances words are carefully introduced to show that the denials in question were uttered not with the intent of deceiving the hearers (though even that, according to the grave Protestant authorities recently quoted, would have been lawful), nor of allowing them to deceive themselves if they did not choose to advert to the circumstances in which the denials were made (as Catholic divines would have permitted);[^189] but avowedly in order that they might not be available as legal evidence against the speaker or his friends.

[^189: Sir Walter Scott's words have been often quoted, and they are fair specimens of what an honourable man considers lawful. As they were no hasty and unconsidered expressions, they are deserving of insertion in this place. Lockhart calls them “a style of equivoque which could never seriously be misunderstood.” To John Murray Scott wrote: “I give you heartily joy of the success of the Tales, although I do not claim that paternal interest in them which my friends do me the credit to assign me. I assure you I have never read a volume of them until they were printed, and can only join with the rest of the world in applauding the true and striking portraits which they present of old Scottish manners. I do not expect implicit reliance to be placed on my disavowal, because I know very well that he who is disposed not to own a work must necessarily deny it, and that otherwise his secret would be at the mercy of all who choose to ask the question, since silence in such a case must always pass for consent, or rather assent. But I have a mode of convincing you that I am perfectly serious in my denial—pretty similar to that by which Solomon distinguished the fictitious from the real mother—and that is, by reviewing the work, which I take to be an operation equal to that of quartering the child.” And, in a letter written two years later, he says: “I own I did mystify Mrs. —— a little about the report you mention; and I am glad to hear the finesse succeeded. She came up to me with a great overflow of gratitude for the delight and pleasure, and so forth, which she owed to me on account of these books. Now, as she knew very well that I had never owned myself the author, this was not polite politeness, and she had no right to force me up into a corner and compel me to tell her a word more than I chose, upon a subject which concerned no one but myself—and I have no notion of being pumped by any old dowager Lady of Session, male or female. So I gave in dilatory defences, under protestation to add and eik; for I trust, in learning a new slang, you have not forgot the old. In plain words, I denied the charge, and as she insisted to know who else could write these novels, I suggested Adam Fergusson as a person having all the information and capacity necessary for that purpose. But the inference that he was the author was of her own deducing; and thus ended her attempt, notwithstanding her having primed the pump with a good dose of flattery” (Lockhart's Memoirs of Sir Walter Scott, 1844, pp. 338, 389).]

To Father Gerard's defence of himself it may be as well to add that of Father Southwell,[^190] who was assailed by Sir Edward Coke.

[^190: We translate partly from Bartoli, Inghilterra, lib. v., c. 9, and partly from More, Hist. Prov., lib. v., c. 29.]

“The Father would have spoken further on this point [obedience to the laws] had they not attacked him on another,” objecting to him a statement of Anne Bellamy's, who deposed that Father Robert had instructed her, that if asked by searchers or persecutors if there was a Priest in the house, she could say “No,” though she knew there was one: nay, that if asked on oath, she could swear there was not. No sooner was this brought out than the Judges and officers of the court showed themselves highly scandalized, and were for stopping their ears:[^191] as if, forsooth, the seeking for Catholic Priests to put them to a traitor's death, or force them to apostatize, were a proceeding so clearly and so indubitably just, as to make it as clearly and indubitably unjust to hide them from such an ordeal, or to deny them to their pursuers: nor, indeed, would the harm be confined to the cruel execution of the Priest, but with him the whole of the family in whose house he was found would be liable to the same death of traitors. Coke, therefore, the Attorney General, made the most he could of this matter, insisting that such a pernicious doctrine tended to destroy all truth, and all reliance of men in each other's veracity, and if allowed to prevail, would upset all good government. Topcliffe also inveighed against it so exorbitantly, that Judge Popham silenced him. Father Robert then, as soon as he was allowed to reply, explained briefly what he had said to the witness, whose statement was not altogether exact, and addressing the Judge, said:

[^191: Father Bartoli here asks us to contrast the pious horror expressed by the officials at Father Southwell's doctrine with the fact related by Father Gerard (supra p. lxvii.) of the magistrate Young swearing on the Scriptures to what he knew to be false, that Father Southwell had expressed a desire to confer with a Protestant minister with the view of abandoning the Catholic faith.]

“‘If you will have the patience to listen to me, I shall be able to prove to you from the Holy Scriptures, from the Fathers, from theologians, and from reason, that in case a demand is made against justice and with the view of doing grievous harm to an innocent person, to give an answer not according to the intent of the questioner is no offence against either the divine law or the natural law. Nay, I will prove that this doctrine in no wise threatens the good government of states and kingdoms: and that, where the other necessary conditions of an oath are present, there is nothing wrong in confirming such an answer in that manner. Now I ask you, Mr. Attorney, Supposing the King of France (which God forbid) were to invade this country successfully, and having obtained full possession of this city, were to make search for Her Majesty the Queen, whom you knew to be hidden in a secret apartment of the palace: supposing, moreover, that you were seized in the palace and brought before the King, and that he asked you where the Queen was, and would receive no profession of ignorance from you except on oath: what would you do? To palter or hesitate is to show that she is there: to refuse to swear is equivalent to a betrayal. What would you answer? I suppose, forsooth, you would point out the place! Yet who of all who now hear me would not cry out upon you for a traitor? You would then, if you had any sense, swear at once, either that you knew not where she was, or that you knew she was not in the palace, in order that your knowledge might not become instrumental to her harm. Of this kind, in fact, was the answer of Christ in the Gospel, when He said that concerning the Day of Judgment no one had any knowledge, neither the Angels in Heaven, nor the Son: that is, according to the interpretation of the Fathers, such knowledge that He could communicate to others. Now this is the condition of Catholics in England: they are in peril of their liberty, their fortunes, and their lives, if they should have a Priest in their houses. How can it be forbidden them to escape these evils by an equivocal answer, and to confirm this answer, if necessary, by an oath? For in such a case, three things must be remembered: first, that a wrong is done unless you swear; secondly, that no one is obliged to answer everybody's questions about everything; thirdly, that an oath is always lawful, if made with truth, with judgment, and with justice, all which are found in this case.’[^192]”

[^192: This last consideration applies, of course, not to the general question of equivocation (for in that case it would involve a petitio principii), but to the sub-question whether supposing a simple equivocation lawful (i.e., allowing it to be no violation of veracity in some cases), it could ever be lawful to add to it the confirmation of an oath. Father Southwell maintains reasonably, that whatever it is lawful to say, it is lawful also to swear to, provided the other conditions for an oath are present.]

“He went on to exemplify his position by supposed queries of robbers and highwaymen; but he was interrupted by abuse.”

Father Garnett has defended himself at sufficient length in his speech on his trial;[^193] but as he there refers to his previous answers, we have thought it best to give insertion here to an autograph paper of his preserved in the Public Record Office.[^194]

[^193: Infra p. 244.]

[^194: Gunpowder Plot Book, n. 217A.]

“Concerning equivocation, which I seemed to condemn in moral things, my meaning was in moral and human conversation, in which the virtue of verity is required among friends, for otherwise it were injurious to all humanity. Neither is equivocation at all to be justified, but in case of necessary defence from injustice or wrong, or the obtaining some good of great importance, when there is no danger of harm to others, as in the case of Coventry,[^195] wherein I suppose it is a great advantage to me for to be admitted, and no harm can ensue to the city. For the city seeketh nothing but to be free from the sickness, and if it were possible that the city knew me to be free of certainty, they would admit me presently, which is confirmed by the custom of places beyond [sea], where, though they know a man to come from a place infected, yet after they have kept him in some several place, with convenient diet, for forty days, they admit him.”

“As for Mr. Tresham's equivocation, I am loath to judge; yet I think ignorance might excuse him, because he might think it lawful in that case to equivocate for the excuse of his friend, yet would I be loath to allow of it or practise it: he being not then urged, but voluntarily offering it himself, contrary to that which he had before set down, and especially being in case of manifest treason, as I will after explain. But in case a man be urged at the hour of his death, it is lawful for to equivocate, with such due circumstances as are required in his life. An example we may bring in another matter. For the divines hold that in some cases a man may be bound to conceal something in his confession, because of some great harm which may ensue of it. And as he may do so in his life, so may he at his death, if the danger of the harm continue still.”

“The case being propounded, supposing that I knew Gerard acquainted with this treason, and having been often demanded thereof, I still denying it, by way of equivocation, whether at the hour of my death, either natural or by course of justice, I may by equivocation seek to clear him again.”

I answer, that in case I be not urged I may not, but I must leave the matter in case in which it stand; but if I be urged, then I may clear him by equivocation, whereas otherwise my silence would be accounted an accusation. But all this I understand when the case is such that I am bound to conceal Gerard's treason, as if I had heard it in confession. For this is a general rule, that in cases of true and manifest treason,[^196] a man is bound voluntarily in utter and very truth by no way to equivocate, if he know it not by way of confession, in which case also he is bound to seek all lawful ways to discover, salvo sigillo.

“Henry Garnett.”

“29° Martii.”

“All the Doctors that hold equivocation to be lawful do maintain that it is not lawful when the examinate is bound to tell the simple truth, that is, according to the civil law, when there is a competent judge, and the cause subject to his jurisdiction, and sufficient proofs. But in case of treason a man is bound to confess of another without any witness at all, yea, voluntarily to disclose it; not so of himself.”

“And how far the common law bindeth in cases that are not treason a man to confess of himself, I know not. In the civil law, it is sufficient to have semiplenam probationem, that is, unum testem omni exceptione majorem, or manifesta indicia.”

“Our law I take to be more mild, and that a man may put all to witnesses without confessing, except in cases of treason. For, according to our law, non pervertitur judicium tacendo vel negando, as in the civil law, where is required reus confitens. But generally, when a man is bound to confess, there is no place of equivocation. And when he is not bound to confess according to the laws of each country, then may he equivocate.”

[^195: Cowetry (MS.). If this word is read thus correctly, it is a curious proof of the antiquity of the phrase ‘being sent to Coventry.’]

[^196: “One necessary condition,” says Father Garnett in another paper (P. R. O., Domestic, James I., vol. 20, n. 2), “required in every law is that it be just. For if this condition be wanting, that the law be unjust, then is it ipso facto void and of no force, neither hath it any power to oblige any. And this is a maxim, not only of divines, but of Aristotle and all philosophers. Hereupon ensueth that no power on earth can forbid or punish any action which we are bound unto by the law of God, which is the true pattern of all justice. So that the laws against recusants, against receiving of Priests, against confession, against Mass, or other rites of Catholic religion, are to be esteemed as no laws by such as steadfastly believe these to be necessary observances of the true religion.”

“Likewise Almighty God hath absolute right for to send His preachers of His Gospel to any place in the world. ‘Euntes decete omnes gentes.’ So that the law against Priests coming into the realm sincerely to preach, is no law, and those that are put to death by virtue of that decree are verily martyrs because they die for the preaching of true religion.”

“Being asked what I meant by true treason, I answer that that is a true treason which is made treason by any just law, and that is no treason at all which is made treason by an unjust law.”]

In the last paper Father Garnett is not speaking of equivocation used in defence of an innocent person, but of what we may call the persistent plea of “Not guilty,” and he there draws an interesting distinction between the Roman civil law and our own, which he calls “more mild,” in that it professed to regard a prisoner as innocent till he is proved to be guilty. Happily this is our practice now, as well as our profession, and our quotations are needed to enable us to form judgments of conduct in times that have happily passed away.

But with regard to the trustworthiness of Father John Gerard's evidence, as we have it before us in his Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot, even if the lawfulness of his proceedings were not admitted, all that we are concerned to show is, that untrue statements, made by a man under circumstances which, rightly or wrongly, he considers to justify him in making them, furnish no presumption whatever that, under other circumstances, affording to his conscience no such justification, his word cannot be trusted. It is an evident instance of the maxim that the exception proves the rule. Restraining himself carefully within the limits of what he held to be lawful under circumstances of extreme difficulty and great personal danger, are we not rather to conclude that, under far less pressure, he will as carefully confine himself to the laws imposed by his conscience? Clearly there is nothing in Father Gerard's practice under examination to cause us to hesitate in placing implicit trust in his word when he speaks as an historian; and, in addition, we are sure that no one will rise from the perusal of the exculpatory letters which we propose to subjoin, without a full conviction of his innocence and truthfulness.

XXXI.

But before we close this subject by producing these letters, we think it desirable to answer in detail two particular accusations that have been brought against Father Gerard's veracity by a modern writer. Canon Tierney says:[^197] “To show how very little reliance can be placed on the asseverations of Gerard when employed in his own vindication, it is only right to observe that, referring to this transaction” [the Communion of the conspirators after their oath of secresy] “in his manuscript narrative, he first boldly and very properly asserts, on the authority of Winter's confession, that the Priest who administered the Sacrament was not privy to the designs of the conspirators; and then ignorant of Faukes' declaration which had not been published, and supposing that his name had not transpired, as that of the Clergyman who had officiated upon the occasion, he returns at once to the artifice which I have elsewhere noticed, of substituting a third person as the narrator, and solemnly protests on his salvation that he knows not the Priest from whom Catesby and his associates received the Communion!”

[^197: Dodd's Church History, ed. Tierney, vol. iv., p. 44, note.]

Dr. Lingard also says simply that the Communion was received by the conspirators “from the hand of the Jesuit missionary Father Gerard,”[^198] apparently unconscious that he had ever denied it.

[^198: History of England, ed. 1849, vol. vii., p. 44.]

We have little doubt that the house in which the oath of secrecy was taken and holy Communion received, was really Father Gerard's house. The “house in the fields behind St. Clement's Inn,” as Faulks calls it; “behind St. Clement's,” as it appears in Winter's confession, seems to be the house described by Father Gerard as that which he occupied up to the time of the Powder Plot, “nearer the principal street in London, called the Strand,”[^199] in which street most of his friends lived. But he was not the only Priest who lived in that house. At least two other Priests[^200] resided habitually with him. One was Father Strange, who was in the Tower when the Autobiography was written; the other, whose name he does not give, “was thrown into Bridewell, and was afterwards banished, together with other Priests.” Then there was also Thomas Laithwaite,[^201] who afterwards became a Jesuit, who frequented the house if he did not live there. Father Gerard says, “There I should long have remained, free from all peril or even suspicion, if some friends of mine, while I was absent from London, had not availed themselves of the house rather rashly.” What meaning can this have but that Catholics were allowed, in Father Gerard's absence, to come to the house too freely to receive the Sacraments, so that it became too widely known that it was his house?

[^199: Supra p. clxii.]

[^200: Supra pp. clxxiv., clxxvii.]

[^201: Supra p. clxxvi.]

Immediately after binding themselves by oath to secrecy, the minds of the conspirators must have been preoccupied with the thoughts of the tremendous undertaking to which they had just pledged themselves; and it is very unlikely that mention should be made, in subsequent conversation among them, of the name of the Priest, whom they had only seen at the altar, especially as he “was not acquainted with their purpose.”[^202] The only two conspirators who mention Father Gerard's name are Faulks and Thomas Winter. Faulks was a stranger, who had “spent most of his time in the wars of Flanders, which is the cause that he was less known here in England.”[^203] We have no trace of any personal intercourse between Thomas Winter and Father Gerard. What can have been more natural than that they should have been told to meet at Father Gerard's house, and that those who did not know him by sight should have concluded that it was Father Gerard's Mass that they heard? It surely is more probable that they should have been mistaken in a name than that Father Gerard should have been guilty of perjury in contradicting, from a place of safety, that which was no accusation against him, but a harmless statement that, in ignorance of the oath taken, he had given Communion to certain Catholics.

[^202: Faulks' confession, P. R. O., Gunpowder Plot Book, n. 54.]

[^203: Infra p. 59.]

Faulks' confession was extorted by torture. King James had given orders, “The gentler tortours are to be first usid unto him, et sic per gradus ad ima tenditur, and so God speede your goode work.”[^204] Faulks was under none of the “gentler tortures” when in a tremulous hand he wrote “Guido” on that declaration. “The prisoner is supposed to have fainted before completing”[^205] the signature. Before the words exculpating Father Gerard from all knowledge of the conspirators' purpose, the word Hucusque appears in the handwriting of Sir Edward Coke, who has underlined the sentence in red. The ideas of justice of this great lawyer permitted him to publish the mention there made of Father Gerard's name, and to suppress the statement of his innocence. There is also a red line drawn beneath the following words in Thomas Winter's examination: “But Gerard knew not of the provision of the powder, to his knowledge.”[^206]

[^204: In the King's own hand. P. R. O., Gunpowder Plot Book, n. 17.]

[^205: Calendar of State Papers, by M. E. Green. James I., 1603-10, p. 247.]

[^206: P. R. O., Gunpowder Plot Book, n. 164.]

The second accusation brought by the same writer,[^207] is couched as follows: “Relying upon the fidelity of Gerard, who declares upon his conscience, that he has ‘set down Father Garnett's words truly and sincerely as they lie in his letter,’ Dr. Lingard has printed what is given by that writer, and from it has argued, with Greenway, that Garnett on the 4th of October, the date assigned to it both by Gerard and Greenway, was still ignorant of the nature of the Plot. The truth, however, is, that although the letter was written on the fourth, the postcript was not added until the twenty-first of October; that from this postscript the two Jesuit writers have selected a sentence, which they have transferred to the body of the letter; and then, concealing both the existence of the postscript and the date of the 21st, have represented the whole as written and dispatched on the 4th. The motive for this proceeding, especially on the part of Greenway, is obvious. That writer's argument is, that the Parliament had been summoned to meet on the 3rd of October, that Garnett had not heard of the intention to prorogue it to the following month (this, to say the least, is very improbable); that, for anything he could have known to the contrary, the great blow had already been struck, at the very time when he was writing; and, consequently, that, had he been acquainted with the intentions of Catesby and his confederates, he would never, at such a moment, have thought of proceeding, as he says he was about to proceed, towards London, and thus exposing himself to the almost inevitable danger of falling into the hands of his enemies.... Now the whole of this reasoning is founded on the assumption that the letter bore only the single date of the 4th. On the 21st, the supposed danger of a journey to London no longer existed. At that period, too, Garnett, instead of proceeding towards the metropolis, had not only removed in the opposite direction, from Goathurst, in Buckinghamshire, to Harrowden, the seat of Lord Vaux, in Northamptonshire, but was also preparing to withdraw himself still further from the capital, and by the end of the month, was actually at Coughton, in the neighbourhood of Alcester. In fact, what was written on the 4th, he had practically contradicted on the 21st, and to have allowed any part of the letter, therefore, to carry this later date, would have been to supply the refutation of the very argument which it was intended to support. Hence the expedient to which this writer has had recourse. The postscript and its date are carefully suppressed; and we are told that, looking at the contents of the letter, Garnett, when he wrote it, could have known nothing of the designs of the conspirators: ‘Quando scrisse questa lettera, che fu alli quattro d'Ottobre, non sapeva niente del disegno di questi gentilhuomini, altro che il sospetto che prima havea havuto’ (Greenway's MS., 51b). Without stopping to notice the falsehood contained in the concluding words of this sentence, and without intending to offer an opinion here, as to the principal question of Garnett's conduct, I may still remark that even the friends of that Jesuit universally admit him to have received the details of the plot from Greenway about the 21st; and that this fact alone may be regarded as supplying another and a sufficient motive both to the latter and to Gerard, for the suppression of that date.”

[^207: Dodd's Church History, by Tierney, vol. iv., p. cii.]

This note by Canon Tierney produced its effect on Dr. Lingard, and that historian, in the edition of his work published in 1849, remarks upon the matter as follows.[^208] “The object for which this letter was made up in the shape which it thus assumes in Gerard's MS., is plain from the reasoning which both he and Greenway found upon it. They contend that, if Garnett had been privy to the conspiracy, he must have believed on the 4th that the explosion had already taken place on the 3rd, the day on which the Parliament had been summoned to meet; though no reason is assigned why he might not, as well as others, have been aware of the prorogation to the 5th of November, and they add that, under such belief, he would never have resolved to encounter the dangers of making, as he proposed to do, a journey to London, though in fact he made no such journey, but changed his route, and was actually, at the time in which he wrote, on his way to the meeting appointed at Dunchurch. Hence it became necessary to suppress the postscript, because it was irreconcileable with such statements. There was, moreover, this benefit in the suppression, that it kept the reader in ignorance (1) of the real date of the letter, the 21st of October, the very time when it is admitted that Greenway made to Garnett a full disclosure of the Plot; and (2) that Garnett took that opportunity of blotting out a most important passage in the letter written on the 4th, with a promise to forward the same passage later in an epistle apart; two facts which would furnish strong presumptions against the alleged innocence of the Provincial.”

[^208: Vol. viii., p. 543.]

One word in passing, in reply to the “two facts which would furnish strong presumptions against” Father Garnett's innocence. 1. Dr. Lingard has forgotten that “the full disclosure of the Plot” was made in confession, and that Father Garnett could make no use of it in any way, until the conjuncture arose when the penitent gave him leave. 2. It is true that a passage, written to Father Persons on the 4th October, was erased by Father Garnett on the 21st; but what presumption does this furnish? The “promise to forward the same passage later in an epistle apart,” could not mean that he would write him word of the Powder Plot when it was safe to do so. Is it likely that a conspirator would have written to his friend, with all the chances of a letter being intercepted, that they were proposing to blow up the Houses of Parliament? What would he have gained even had he but risked a phrase as oracular as that of the letter to Lord Mounteagle? Such a supposition assumes that Father Garnett was not only guilty of the Plot, but that he had lost all common sense and ordinary caution; and that he was indebted to the accidental return of his letter to his hands, seventeen days after he had written it, for an opportunity of destroying proof under his own hand that he was guilty. If this consideration is not conclusive, we have but to refer to the context, as given from the original by Mr. Tierney himself,[^209] and our sense of the ridiculous must settle the question. Father Garnett must have been the most erratic of letter-writers, if he could insert a reference to the Gunpowder Treason, or to any other treason, between two such subjects as the choice of Lay-brothers and his own want of money. The letter ends as follows.

[^209: Tierney's Dodd, vol. iv., p. cv. The original letter is now in the archives of the Archbishop of Westminster.]

“‘I pray you send word how many Coadjutors’” [Jesuit Lay-brothers] “‘you will have. I have one, a citizen of London, of very good experience, which may benefit us, in buying and selling without taxes. But he is fifty years old: and I think it not amiss to have, at the first, some ancient men for such. Send your will herein.’”

“A short but separate paragraph of three lines is here carefully obliterated.”

“‘I am in wonderful distress, for want of the ordinary allowance from Joseph’” [Creswell, the Superior in Spain]. “‘I pray you write for all the arrearages, which, if it may all be gotten, I can spare you some. Thus, with humble remembrance to Claud’” [Aquaviva, the General], “‘Fabio, Perez, Duras, and the rest, I cease, 4o Octobris.’”

But let us address ourselves to the grave accusation made against Gerard and Greenway. That Dr. Lingard should have made such a statement at all is owing, first, to the fact that at the time when he was preparing the new edition of his History, he had no longer access to the manuscript of Father Gerard, of which he had had the use[^210] when originally compiling his work. The reader, who has Gerard's Narrative now beneath his eyes, can speedily convince himself of this fact. And, secondly, to a misunderstanding of Canon Tierney's note, for which that writer's expressions are to blame. If it had been true, as Dr. Lingard understood Mr. Tierney to say, that Gerard and Greenway drew the same argument from the date of Father Garnett's letter, their conduct would have been entirely indefensible, and they would have deserved the blame brought against them.

[^210: Vol. iii., p. 37, note.]

The truth however is, and in this lies an ample defence for both of them, that this is not so. Father Gerard quotes Father Garnett's letter only and solely to illustrate the state of the Catholics in England. For this purpose, the date of the letter he was quoting was entirely unimportant. Indeed, he originally quoted the letter without any date; and then he interlined the date of Oct. 4th, but laying no more stress upon it than he had laid on the dates of the other letters of July 24th and August 28th. For the same reason it would not occur to him to note that the passage respecting Ireland was taken from a postcript. It was enough for him that he gave Father Garnett's very words, as he declared “upon his conscience” that he did; and that he had Father Garnett's authority for the account that he was giving of the condition and state of feeling of Catholics. When he turned to the letter for a date, it was natural enough that he should take that which was endorsed upon it by Father Persons, who, having erased the date of the 21st which he had originally written upon it, had substituted the 4th, and “in another corner of the paper also, where it appears most likely to catch the eye, inscribed the same date thus, ‘4° 8bris.’”[^211] As there is no ground for blaming Father Persons for thus endorsing a single date on a letter which continued to bear two, so neither is it reasonable to blame Father Gerard for quoting the letter under one date only. It is clear, therefore, that there is no accusation whatever against Father Gerard, and if Father Greenway had not drawn from the date of the letter the argument regarding Father Garnett, none would ever have been made. It is gravely to be regretted that Mr. Tierney should have said that there was “a sufficient motive both to the latter and to Gerard for the suppression of that date.” This expression evidently misled Dr. Lingard, and led him erroneously to speak of “the reasoning which both he [Gerard] and Greenway found upon it.” Had Dr. Lingard not trusted to Mr. Tierney, but referred to Gerard's Narrative, he would have said of the whole charge that which he has said[^212] of the alterations of names in the first part of the letter. Of this his expression is, “Had his object been only to present the public with an account of the persecution to which the English Catholics were at that moment subjected, there would not have been great cause to complain.” This was his only object,[^213] and therefore there was, in Dr. Lingard's judgment, no great cause to complain.

[^211: Tierney's Dodd, vol. iv., p. cvi.]

[^212: Vol. vii., p. 542.]

[^213: See Narrative, infra p. 79.]

Father Greenway derived his information of the letter from Father Gerard's Narrative, of which he was translator. Whether the argument he has founded on the date of the letter has any and what force is not here under discussion, but it is evident that he propounded it in good faith. The original letter was in existence to confute him. If he had seen it or noticed the postscript and its date, he would never have exposed himself to such a confutation. He was misled, innocently enough, but seriously, by the manner in which the letter appeared in Father Gerard's pages which he was translating.

In a word, the accusation is this. Gerard and Greenway found an argument on the fact that a letter of Garnett's was dated the 4th of October, when they knew that it was in his hands on the 21st. And the answer is this. Gerard may have known, but had no need to notice, the fact of the double date, as he founded no argument whatever upon it: Greenway, who did found an argument on it, had no reason for suspecting the existence of a later date on the letter.

XXXII.

Having thus vindicated the fair fame of these Fathers from the unmerited imputations brought against them, it remains for us to produce the letters which were written expressly to prove Father Gerard's innocence of all complicity with the conspiracy. We first take from the Public Record Office[^214] his letter to the Duke of Lenox, enclosing letters to the Earl of Salisbury and Sir Everard Digby. These are the letters described by Father Gerard himself in the twelfth chapter of his Narrative.[^215]

[^214: Domestic, James I., vol. xviii., n. 35.]

[^215: Supra p. clxxix; infra p. 208]

“Right Honourable,—Seeing all laws, both divine and human, do license the innocent to plead for himself, and the same laws do strictly require and highly commend an open ear in any of authority to give audience and equal trial to a plaintiff in such a case, my hope is that your Grace will excuse this my boldness in offering up by your hands my humble petition for trial of my innocence touching the late most impious treason, whereof I am wrongfully accused, by some lost companions, I assure me, who, to save themselves from deserved punishment, will not stick to accuse any innocent of any crime wherein their bare word may pass for proof. There is none so innocent but may be wrongfully accused, sith innocency itself in our Lord and Master was accused and condemned as an enemy to the State and no friend to Cæsar. The servant must not look to be more free from wrongs than his Master was. But happy is that man by whom the truth is tried in judgment and innocency cleared.”

“I durst not presume, being branded with the odious name of traitor, to offer my petition to my Sovereign (to whom, as God is witness, I wish long life and all happiness as to my own soul). But if by your Grace's means (of whose piety and worthy disposition I have heard so much good) the humble suit of a distressed suppliant (prostrate at His Majesty's feet) may be offered up, I hope it shall be found not unfit for your Grace to offer, and most fit and reasonable for so wise and righteous a Prince to grant.”

“My humble petition is only this. That, whereas I have protested before God and the world, I was not privy to that horrible Plot of destroying the King's Majesty and his posterity, &c., by powder (wherewith I am now so publicly taxed in the proclamation), that full trial may be made, whether I be guilty therein or not. And if so it be proved, that then all shame and pain may light upon me; but if the truth appear on the contrary side, that then I may be cleared from this so grievous an infamation and punishment not deserved. Two kinds of proofs may be made in this cause, which I humbly beseech your Grace, for God's cause, may be performed. One is, that all the principal conspirators (with whom I am said to have practised the foresaid Plot of Powder against the Parliament House) may be asked at their death, as they will answer at the dreadful tribunal unto which they are going, whether ever they did impart the matter to me, or I practise the same with them in the least degree, or whether they can but say of their knowledge that I did know of it. And I know it will then appear that no one of them will accuse me, if it be not apparent they do it in hope of life, but do give signs that they die in the fear of God and hope of their salvation.”

“And as by this trial it will appear (in this time most fit for saying truth) that there is not sufficient witness against me, so I humbly desire also trial may be made by examining a witness, who can, if he will, fully clear me, and I hope he will not deny me that right, especially being[^216] ... the place of right and justice himself. Sir Everard Digby can testify for me, how ignorant I was of any such matter but two days before that unnatural parricide should have been practised. I have, for full trial thereof, enclosed a letter unto him, which I humbly beseech may be delivered before your Grace and the other two lords, whose favour and equity I have likewise humbly entreated by these letters unto them. All which I am bold to direct unto your Grace's hands, presuming upon your gracious furtherance, not having other means, in this my distressed case, to have them severally delivered. God of His goodness will reward, I hope, in full measure, this your Grace's favour and pity showed to an innocent wrongly accused, who would rather suffer any death than not to be found ever faithful to God and his Sovereign,”

“John Gerard.”

“This 23rd of January.”

Addressed—“To the Right Honourable the Duke of Lenox, these deliver.”

Endorsed in Cecil's hand—“Gerard the Jesuit to the Duke of Lenox.”

“Right Honourable,—Although I can expect no other from one in your place, but that you should permit the course of justice to proceed against any that are proved guilty of treason to His Majesty and the State, especially in so foul and unnatural a treason as was lately discovered, yet I cannot but hope where there is so much wisdom, and so vigilant a care for the preservation of this State, your lordship will also be pleased to hear, and forward to make trial, who may be wrongfully accused, knowing right well that it is as necessary in any Government to protect the innocent as to punish the offenders.”

“What proof there is of my accusation I know not, and therefore cannot answer it. But this I know: that none can truly produce the least proof that ever I was made privy to that treason of which I am accused, and much less a practiser with the principal conspirators in the same, as I am denounced to be. Therefore, sith I know not my accusers, God I hope will be judge between them and me, to Whom I refer my cause, and in Whom my trust is, and ever shall be, that He will right me.”

“In the meantime my humble request is, that your lordship, who have been so often seen to be pitiful towards any in distress, and a potent helper to those who were oppressed (a special ornament in so eminent a person, and much commended and rewarded by God Himself), will show your accustomed commiseration in my case, and afford me therein such audience as may be sufficient to make trial of my innocency. Wherein your lordship shall imitate the just proceeding of the highest Lord, from Whom both yourself, and all that govern, have all your power. For God Himself, although He know all things before He call us to account, yet, to give us the form of just proceeding, is said in Holy Scripture to be ever careful in hearing what the accused can say for himself before He proceeds to give sentence. So we read that God said to Abraham, ‘Clamor Sodomorum etc., multiplicatus est, etc., descendam et videbo utrum clamorem qui venit ad me opere compleverint, an non est ita, ut sciam.’ So again in the Gospel when He heard a complaint against His steward, He would not proceed against him without full audience, but called him and said, ‘Quid hæc audio de te? redde rationem villicationis tuae.’ These most high and worthy examples I trust your lordship will follow in my case, as you have been known to do with others. And then I doubt not but that shall appear true which I have most sincerely protested before God and the world.”

“My humble petition therefore is, that a witness may be asked his knowledge who is well able to clear me if he will, and I hope he will not be so unjust in this time of his own danger as to conceal so needful a proof being so demanded of him. Sir Everard Digby doth well know how far I was from knowledge of any such matter but two days before the treason was known to all men. I have therefore written a letter unto him, to require his testimony of that which passed between him and me at that time. Wherein, if I may have your lordship's furtherance to have just trial made of the truth whilst yet he liveth, I shall ever esteem myself most deeply bound to pray for your lordship's happiness both in this world and in the next. In which hope I will rest, your lordship's prone and humble suppliant, never to be proved false to King and country,”

“John Gerard.”

“This 23rd of January.”

Addressed—“To the Right Honourable the Earl of Salisbury, Principal Secretary to His Majesty, these.”

Endorsed in Cecil's hand—“Gerard the Jesuit to my son.”

“Sir Everard Digby,—I presume so much of your sincerity both to God and man, that I cannot fear you will be loath to utter your knowledge for the clearing of one that is innocent from a most unjust accusation, importing both loss of life to him that is accused, and of his good name also, which he much more esteemeth.”

“So it is that upon some false information (given, as I suppose, by some base fellows, desirous to save their lives by the loss of their honesty) there is come forth a proclamation against my Superior, and one other of the Society, and myself, as against three notorious practisers with divers of the principal conspirators in this late most odious treason of destroying the King's Majesty and all in the Parliament House with powder. And myself am put in the first place, as the first or chiefest offender therein.”

“Now God I call to witness, Who must be my Judge, that I did never know of it before the rumour of the country brought it to the place where I was, after the treason was publicly discovered. And if this protestation be not sincerely true, without any equivocation, and the words thereof so understood by me, as they sound to others, I neither desire nor expect any favour at God's hand when I shall stand before His tribunal. But because this protestation doth only clear me in their opinion who are so persuaded of my conscience that they think I would not condemn my soul to save my body (which I hope by God's grace shall never be my mind): therefore, to give more full proof of my innocency to those also may doubt the truth of my words, I take witness to yourself whether you, upon your certain knowledge, cannot clear me. I wrote a letter before Christmas which I hoped would be sufficient to have cleared me; wherein, beside a most serious protestation (such as no honest man can use if he were guilty, as for my part my conscience doth persuade me), I alleged some other reasons which did make it more than probable, in my opinion, that I was neither to be charged with this late treason, nor chargeable with former dealing in State matters. But I did of purpose forbear this proof (which now I allege), although I did assure myself it would clear me from all just suspicion of being privy to that last and greatest treason; and I did forbear to set it down, in regard I would not take knowledge of any personal acquaintance with you, especially at your own house, not knowing how far you were to be touched for your life, and therefore would not add unto your danger. But now that it appears by your confession and trial in the country that you stand at the King's mercy for greater matters than your acquaintance with a Priest, I hope you will not be loath I should publish that which cannot hurt you, and may help myself in a matter of such importance. And as I know you could never like to stoop to so base and unworthy a humour as to flatter or dissemble with any man, so much less can I fear that now (being in the case you are in) you can ever think it fit to dissemble with God, or not to utter your every knowledge, being required as from Him, and in the behalf of truth. Therefore I desire you will bear witness of the truth which followeth (if it be true that I affirm of my demand to you, growing upon my ignorance in the matter then in hand) as you expect truth and mercy at God's hand hereafter.”

“First, I desire you to bear witness whether, coming to your house upon All Souls' Day last, before dinner, with intention and hope to celebrate there, and finding all things hid out of the way and many of your household gone, you did not perceive me to be astonished at it, as a thing much contrary to my expectation. Whereupon I asked you what was become of them. And when you told me you had sent them into Warwickshire, and your hounds also, and yourself were going presently after, about a hunting match which you had made, though I seemed satisfied for the present because a stranger was there with you, yet whether I did not soon after (when I had compared many particulars together which seemed strange unto me) draw you into a chamber apart, and there urge you to tell me what was the reason both of that sudden alteration in your house and of divers other things which I had observed before, but did not until then reflect upon them so much, as, for example, the number of horses that you had not long before in your stable, the sums of money which I had been told you had made of your stock and grounds, which (said I) in one of your judgment and provident care of your estate, are not likely to be done without some great cause, and seemed to think you had something in hand for the Catholic cause. Your answer was, ‘No, there was nothing in hand that you knew of, or could tell me of.’ And when I replied that I had some fear of it by those signs, considering you would not hurt your estate so much in likelihood without some cause equivalent (for I knew very well you meant to pay the statute, and so stood not in fear of losing your stock), and therefore willed you to look well that you followed counsel in your proceedings, or else you might hurt both yourself and the cause, your answer was (which I have remembered often since), ‘That you respected the Catholic cause much more than your own commodity, as it should well appear whensoever you undertook anything.’ I asked you once again whether, then, there were anything to be done, and whether you expected any help by foreign power, whereunto you answered, holding up the end of your finger, that you would not adventure so much in hope thereof. Then I said, ‘I pray God you follow counsel in your doings. If there be any matter in hand, doth Mr. Walley know of it?’ You answered, ‘In truth, I think he doth not.’ Then I said further, ‘In truth, Sir Everard Digby, if there should be anything in hand, and that you retire yourself and company into Warwickshire, as into a place of most safety, I should think you did not perform the part of a friend to some of your neighbours not far off, and persons that, as you know, deserve every respect, and to whom you have professed much friendship, that they are left behind, and have not any warning to make so much provision for their own safety as were needful in such a time, but to defend themselves from rogues.’ Your answer was (as I will be sworn), ‘I warrant you it shall not need.’ And so you gave me assurance that, if there had been anything needful for them or me to know, you would assuredly have told me. So I rested satisfied and parted from you, and after that I never saw you nor any of the conspirators. These were my questions unto you. And thus clear I was from the knowledge of that Plot against the Parliament House, whereof, notwithstanding, I am accused and proclaimed to be a practiser with the principal conspirators. But I refer me to God and your conscience, who are able to clear me, and I challenge the conscience of any one that certainly expecteth death, and desireth to die in the fear of God and with hope of his salvation, to accuse me of it if he can. God, of His mercy, grant unto us all grace to see and do His will, and to live and die His servants, for they only are and shall be happy for ever.”

“Your companion in tribulation though not in the cause,”

“John Gerard.”

Postcript—“I hope you will also witness with me that you have ever seen me much averted from such violent courses, and hopeful rather of help by favour than by force. And, indeed, if I had not now been satisfied by your assurance that there was nothing in hand, it should presently have appeared how much I had misliked any forcible attempts, the counsel of Christ and the commandment of our superiors requiring the contrary, and that in patience we should possess our souls.”

Addressed—“To Sir Everard Digby, prisoner in the Tower.”

Endorsed in Cecil's hand—“Gerard the Priest to Sir Everard Digby.”

[^216: Here the paper is torn, and three or four words are consequently illegible.]

From Father Bartoli[^217] we take a letter written from Rome, twenty-five years after the Powder Plot, addressed by Father Gerard to Dr. Smith, Bishop of Chalcedon, and Vicar Apostolic of England. The translation from Bartoli's Italian version is a very old one; the date of the letter is September 1, 1630.

[^217: Inghilterra, lib. vi., cap. 6, p. 513.]

“My Lord,—Not long since I received information that a manuscript dissertation, with the title of Brevis Inquisitio, &c., had been circulated in your parts; in the course of which it is pretended that a certain person continues to glory, to the present day, that by working under ground in the mine of Mr. Catesby and other conspirators, by excavating and carrying out the soil with his own hands, he has often found his shirt wet through and dripping with sweat as copiously as if it had been dragged through a river; and that this person is no other than myself, according to the opinion expressed in the letter. I despised such an idle tale as undeserving of an answer, knowing it, as most others must know it, to be not only most false, but, moreover, most remote, from probability. I only begged of a good Priest, who was setting out for England, to make known to your lordship what I had heard concerning such a deed laid to my charge, so contrary to all truth and justice; and that I hoped you would not give credit to it, but rather on hearing it mentioned by any one, would show the falsehood as it is. But in the meantime, while the Priest is yet on his journey, I have learned from good authority that the book has been printed and published, curtailed indeed of that story, which is, however, circulated in manuscript through the hands of many, with every circumstance and embellishment; whence has arisen the general opinion that I am the person there spoken of, the testimony of a Priest being alleged, who says that he has heard me boast of it. Truly I cannot sufficiently express my astonishment on perceiving that there can be found a Catholic, and if a Priest so much the worse, who has so shameless a conscience as to dare assert what he must necessarily know to be false, and injurious to one who never did him any harm or injury whatever. This I can affirm of myself with respect to every Priest in England, to many of whom I have often afforded assistance, but, to my knowledge, have never offended one. Your lordship, moreover, must be aware how very improbable it is that I should boast of a crime so false, so horrible. Now, with all due reverence, I call God to witness that I had no more knowledge of the conspiracy than a new-born infant might have; that I never heard any one mention it; that I had not even a suspicion of the provision of gunpowder for the mine, excepting only when the Plot was detected, made public, and known to every one, and when the conspirators appeared openly in arms in the county of Warwick; then only did I hear of it for the first time, by a message brought to the place where I resided; and this place was so ill provided that of itself it proved I could have no knowledge of the conspiracy, either from the expressions of others or from my own suspicions; there being in that place neither men nor arms sufficient to defend us from the marauders, who on every occasion of similar commotions issue forth and unite in bodies for plunder. Neither did this happen for want of sufficient means to furnish and reinforce the house with men and arms, but solely because we had no suspicion of a commotion, much less any knowledge of a conspiracy. Besides this, the accomplices in the Plot were subjected to the most rigorous examination, and questioned concerning me; and although some of them under the torture named one or others of those who were privy to the conspiracy, nevertheless all constantly denied it of me. Sir Everard Digby, who of all the others, for many reasons, was most suspected of having possibly revealed the secret to me, protested in open court and declared that he had often been instigated to say I knew something of the Plot, but that he had always answered in the negative, alleging the reason why he had never dared to disclose it to me, because, he said, he feared lest I should dissuade him from it. Therefore the greater part of the Privy Councillors considered my innocence established, it being proved by the concurrent testimony of so many, and by a letter in which I defended and cleared myself from such a groundless suspicion. In that letter, besides the reasons therein produced in proof of my innocence, I protested before Heaven and earth that, so far from being engaged in the conspiracy, I was as ignorant of it as man could be. Being at that time in imminent danger of falling into the hands of the Privy Councillors, who with the most refined diligence sent in every direction in quest of me, I had thoughts of surrendering myself up to every torment imaginable, and what is more to be regarded, to the terrible and disgraceful charge of perjury, if having me in their power they could convict me, by legal proof, of being privy to the conspiracy. There was a time, when under Elizabeth they held me prisoner for something more than three years, during which period, many times and in as many ways as they chose, did they examine me, to discover in general if I had ever meddled in affairs of State. I challenged them to produce in proof a single character in my hand, a single word, or anything else sufficient to show it, and then to punish me when convicted with the most cruel death that could be inflicted. There never was brought forward the smallest trace or shadow of a proof. How much more improbable is it that I should consent to a Plot so inhuman, I who, from the natural disposition of my soul, independently of supernatural motives, hold in abhorrence everything that has the smallest appearance of cruelty. This I can affirm with truth, that from the time I first embraced the profession of life in which I am engaged, down to the present moment, I have never, by God's mercy, desired the grievous harm, much less the death, of any man in the world, although he may have been my most inveterate enemy: how could I then have had any hand or part in the sudden, unexpected, and on that account tremendous death of so many personages of such high quality, for whom I have ever borne the greatest respect. A person was employed to scatter copies of my forementioned letter through various streets of London, and one in particular was delivered to the Earl of Northampton, and by him laid before the King, on whom my reasons so far prevailed to his satisfaction that he would have desisted from the rigorous search made after me, had not Cecil, for his own private ends, rendered him more violent than ever. For being persuaded that some of the conspirators had plotted against his life in particular, and knowing that most of them were my friends, he hoped if he could once lay hold of me, to find out from me how many and who were the conspirators. For this sole reason he never rested until he had again persuaded the King, as a thing evidently known to him and clearly demonstrated, that I was not only an accomplice but the ringleader in the Plot, and therefore to be the first named in the proclamation; which was so done. Perceiving from this that the persecution was not likely to abate, and that I might be discovered and arrested, I took the advice to withdraw myself for a time, and to ‘give place to wrath,’ and, after so many years of hard labour in England, with the Apostles ‘to come apart into a desert place and rest a little:’ nor was there any other principal motive of my leaving the kingdom. In fine, this is the simple naked truth; I was totally ignorant of the provision of gunpowder and of the mine; I was and I am as innocent of this and of every other conspiracy as your lordship or any other man living; and this I affirm and swear upon my soul, without any equivocation whatsoever; in such sort, that if the facts do not correspond truly to the meaning of the words, or if I had any information of the forementioned Plot before it was made public to the whole world, as I have before said, I own myself guilty of perjury before God and men; and as far as it is true that I had no knowledge of it, so far and no more do I ask mercy at the throne of God: and it is very probable that it will not be long before I must appear at the divine tribunal, considering my age and the present contagion in the neighbourhood; for if it should reach us it is hardly possible I can escape, on account of the assistance which it is my duty to render to this Community, whose souls are committed to my care.[^218] Therefore I am induced to hope that your lordship will not consider me so careless and prodigal of my eternal salvation, after having spent so many years in no other employment than that of seeking to know and to accomplish the will of God, and of teaching the same to others, as to be now willing to burthen my conscience and risk the salvation of my soul by a protestation so solemn and spontaneous, if my conscience were not pure, my cause evident, and my words true in all sincerity. Now, as I doubt not that God, the Supreme Judge, Who sees and knows all things, will pass sentence on my cause according to its merits, so I hope that your lordship, now knowing me to be innocent, will not wish me to appear guilty, by permitting to stand against me without contradiction an accusation so false and of such enormous infamy. Since this accusation derives its greatest force from the authority of your lordship, who, it is publicly said, gives credit and support to it, I beseech you, by that love which you have for charity and justice, to oppose the falsity of the calumny by the truth of this my justification. With respect to the Priest, whoever he may be, by whose false allegation your lordship appears to have been deceived, I desire with all my heart he may meet with true repentance before he dies, so that we may all live together and love God in a blessed eternity.”

[^218: He was then Confessor in the English College at Rome.]

Next, we find, in Father Henry More's History of the English Province S.J.,[^219] a letter from Father Thomas Fitzherbert, Rector of the English College at Rome, of which house Father Gerard was then Confessor. It is not necessary for us to translate it from his Latin version, as it exists in English amongst the Stonyhurst MSS.[^220] It is dated some months later than the foregoing letter of Father Gerard, and was sent by Mutius Vitelleschi, General of the Society, to the Bishop of Chalcedon, by the hands of Fathers Henry Floyd and Thomas Bapthorpe, who were at the same time bearers of a second letter from Father Gerard to Bishop Smith, extracts from which we subjoin, translated from Bartoli.[^221]

[^219: Lib. vii., n. 44, p. 339.]

[^220: Angl. A., vol. iv., n. 92.]

[^221: Inghilterra, pp. 510, 512.]

“Right Rev. and my honorable good Lord,—Having understood that one of our Society hath been of late traduced, tacito nomine, in a printed book as to have bragged that he had sweat in working in the Powder Plot, and that your lordship have named him, and as it seemeth, dost believe him to be Father John Gerard, I think myself obliged to represent to your lordship's consideration some things concerning him, and that matter, as well in respect of the common bond of our religion and his great merits, as also for that he is at this present under my charge (albeit I acknowledge myself unworthy to have such a subject), and lastly for the knowledge I have had many years of his innocency in that point ever since that slanderous calumny was first raised by the heretics against him, at which time I myself and many other of his friends and kinsmen did very diligently and curiously inform ourselves of the truth thereof, and found that he was fully cleared of it even by the public and solemn testimony of the delinquents themselves, namely of Sir Everard Digby (with whom he was known to be most familiar and confident), who publicly protested at his arraignment that he did never acquaint him with their design, being assured that he would not like of it, but dissuade him from it; and of this I can show good testimony by letters from London written hither at the same time, bearing date the 29th of January, in the year 1606. Therefore, to the end that your lordship may the better believe it, I have thought good to shew the same to some very credible persons, who are shortly to depart from hence, and do mean to present themselves to your lordship, of whom you may (if it please you) understand the truth of it. Besides that for your better satisfaction, I have also by our right reverend Father General's express order and commission commanded him in their presence upon obedience (which commandment we hold by our Rule and Institute to bind, under pain of mortal sin) to declare the truth whether he had any knowledge of that Powder Plot or no, and he hath in their presence protested upon his salvation, that he had never any knowledge of it, either by Sir Everard Digby, or any other, until it was discovered, and that he came to know it by common fame; besides that alleged many pregnant proofs of his innocency therein which I omit to write, because he himself doth represent them to your lordship by a letter of his own; and of this also the witnesses aforesaid may inform your lordship if you be not otherways satisfied. In the meantime, I have only thought it my part to give this my testimony of his solemn protestation and oath, and withal to send to your lordship the enclosed copies of two clauses of letters from England and Flanders touching this matter, not doubting but that your lordship's charity will move you to admit the same as sufficient to clear him of that calumny, seeing there was never any proof produced against him, nor yet any ground of that slander but the malicious conceit and suspicion of heretics, by reason of his acquaintance with some of the delinquents, in which case a solemn protestation and oath, as he hath freely and voluntarily made, may suffice both in conscience and law for a canonical purgation to clear him from all suspicion as well of that fact as of all collusion or double dealing in this his protestation, especially seeing he hath always been not only integerrimæ famæ, but also of singular estimation in England for his many years' most zealous and fruitful labours there, and his constant suffering of imprisonment and torments for the Catholic faith. Besides that, he hath been ever since a worthily esteemed and principal member of our Society, and given sufficient proof of a most religious and sincere conscience, to the edification of us all. This being considered, I cannot but hope that your lordship will rest satisfied of his innocency in this point, and out of your charity procure also to satisfy others who may have, by any speech of your lordship's, conceived worse of him than he hath deserved; for so your lordship shall provide as well for the reparation of his fame as for the discharge of your own conscience, being bound both by justice and charity to restitution in this case, as I make no doubt but that your lordship would judge if it were another man's case; yea, and exact also of others if the like wrong had been done either to yourself, or to any kinsman, dear friend, or subject of yours, all which he is to me; and, therefore, I am the bolder, I will not say to expect this at your lordship's hands (because it doth not become me), but humbly to crave it of you as a thing which I shall take for a favour, no less to myself than to the Society; and so this to no other end, I humbly take my leave, wishing to your lordship all true felicity, this 15th of March, 1631.”

“Your lordship's humble servant,”

“Thomas Fitzherbert.”

“Ex literis P. Ægidii Schondonchii Seminarii Audomarensis Rectoris 1 Martii 1606:”

“‘Dum has scribo accepi literas recentissime datas a viro claro quibus significavit Dominum Everardum Digbæum, dum a Judicibus pronuntiaretur in eum mortis sententia, coram eisdem protestatum esse nullum penitus in Anglia Jesuitam hujus rei fuisse conscium, Nam, inquit, familiaris Patri Gerardo si quis alius, neque unquam ausus fui indicare tantillum, veritus ne conaretur frangere nostros conatus. Itaque sancte asseruit se id solo ex puro Catholicæ ac Romanæ Ecclesiæ zelo neque ullo alio humano respectu suscepisse.’”

“Out of the letter of Father Michael Walpole written to Father Persons, the 29th of January, 1606:”

“‘Touching Gerard's letter which I have seen, I can only say this much, that it seemeth to me to be so effectual, as nothing can be more, so that I am fully persuaded that the King's Majestie himself and the whole Council remain satisfied of him [in] their own hearts, and his Majesty is reported for certain to have declared so much in words upon the sight of his letter.’”

“In the end, after his name, he writeth as followeth:”

“‘This letter is confirmed since by Sir Everard Digby's speech at his arraignment, in which he cleared all Jesuits and Priests (to his knowledge) upon his salvation. And in particular, that though he was particularly acquainted with Gerard, yet he never durst mention this matter, being fully assured that he would be wholly against it, to which my Lord of Salisbury replied, affirming the contrary, and that he knew him to be guilty.’”

The first extract of the letter enclosed from Father Gerard runs thus:

“It is known to all how those of any blood have loved and served King James. My father knew it to his cost, for he was twice imprisoned for attempting to set free the glorious Queen Mary, the King's mother, and to secure the succession to her children: which intent of his own was so clear to the Ministers of State, that besides imprisonment, to purchase his life of them cost him some thousands of crowns, especially the first time when there were but three accused and he one of them, and of the other two, one lost his life. Of all which King James was mindful when he came from Scotland to be crowned King of England, and my brother at York offered him his service and that of all his house. ‘I am particularly bound,’ said he, ‘to love your blood, on account of the persecution that you have borne for me, and of that his love he there gave him the first pledge by making him a Knight.’”[^222]

[^222: Bartoli, Inghilterra, lib. vi., c. 6, p. 510.]

The remaining extract concludes our series of exculpatory letters:

“I send your lordship a copy of the three letters that I wrote to three Councillors of State, that you may see in them how I trusted to my innocence, when I offered to put it to the proof in the two ways which I there proposed to them. Further than this, though the conspirators had been put to death, and I saw that the course proposed by me to the Councillors was not accepted, while the matter was fresh, and I yet in London, I requested of our Fathers that I might present myself in person to the Council of State, which I would have done had they but given me leave; and if the Council would have proceeded against me, not on the score of religion, but for the conspiracy only, which alone was in question, and for which, if they had found me guilty of it, they might have done to me their very worst. This request I can swear that I made and renewed several times to our Fathers, and there are some yet alive who can bear witness to it; but it did not seem good to them to consent to it.”

The matter does not seem to have rested here, unless there is some mistake in a date, for Dr. Lingard[^223] quotes from a MS. copy, dated April 17, 1631, an affidavit made by Anthony Smith, a Secular Priest, before the Bishop of Chalcedon, “that in his hearing, Gerard had said in the Novitiate at Liége, that he worked in the mine with the lay conspirators till his clothes were as wet with perspiration as if they had been dipped in water; and that the general condemnation of the Plot was chiefly owing to its bad success, as had often happened to the attempts of unfortunate generals in war.” It would seem as if this were a repetition of the original accusation, in answer to which the letters given above were written. Of the attack on Father Gerard, Dr. Lingard says, “For my own part, upon having read what he wrote in his own vindication, I cannot doubt his innocence, and suspect that Smith unintentionally attributed to him what he had heard him say of some other person.”[^224]

[^223: History of England, ed. 1849, vol. vii., p. 549.]

[^224: There is a letter extant from Father Blount, the Provincial, to the General, dated Feb. 10, 1632, which has been understood to relate to the accusation against Father Gerard, or to a similar accusation against some other member of the Society. It must, however, relate to some other matter, as it says, “Vivit enim adhuc author ipse criminis,” and that the alleged offence took place five years before the entrance into the Society of the Father in question.]

XXXIV.

It remains for us only to give an account of the manuscripts that have been used as well in the Narrative of the Powder Plot as in the Autobiography of its author.

Father Christopher Grene, who was English Penitentiary at St. Peter's, died in Rome in 1697.[^225] This Father was a most diligent collector of all the documents that related to the history of the persecutions of Catholics in England.[^226] He copied volumes of such documents, several of which are still extant. In one which is preserved at Stonyhurst, entitled by him, Miscellanea de Martyribus et Persecutione in Anglia signanda lit. M. ... incept. anno 1690, he informs us that there were various books called Collectanea in the Archives of the English College at Rome, distinguished by the letters of the alphabet, of the contents of which he gives us an account. At folio 51 we have: “Ex libro Collectaneorum in folio signato lita C in Archo Colli Angl. hoc die 24 Jan. 1689. A relation of ye Gunpowder Treason and of Father Garnett's araignmt and martyrdome, &c., written by Father John Gerard: 'tis ye the original written soon after ye sayd martyrdome. It contains 85 sheetes of paper, and is an excellent work, and should be printed.” After a short analysis of the book, the pages quoted agreeing with the Stonyhurst MS. of the Narrative, we have, “A p. 176 in eod. libro Collectan. C una relatione del P. Filippo Bemondo[^227] della sua Missione in Inghilta,” &c. The last page of the Stonyhurst MS., bearing the endorsement, “A Relation of ye Gunpowder Treason, ye execution, &c. Also of F. Garnett's arrayment,” is numbered 176. The first page bears in Father Grene's handwriting the inscription, “Of the Gunpowder Treason, written by F. John Gerard, alias Tomson, it is the originall.” We are thus enabled to recognize our manuscript as the commencement of Father Grene's volume C. The subsequent history of the MS. is related in the two following letters, which Dr. Oliver appended to the copy that he made of the Narrative. It is only necessary to add that the Rev. Marmaduke Stone, to whom the second letter is addressed, transferred the Academy of Liége (as it was called after the suppression of the Society), of which he was made President in 1790, to Stonyhurst, in 1794. In 1803 he was appointed Provincial in England by the General of the Society in Russia. In all probability, therefore, the MS. was given by Father Thorpe to Father Stone, at Liége, and by him was brought to Stonyhurst, where it now is.

[^225: Oliver's Collectanea S. J.]

[^226: Father Martin Grene wrote a letter (Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. v., n. 69) to his brother, January 1, 1665, addressed, “for Mr. Christopher Grene, at Hilton” [Hilton, i.e., Hill-town, meant Rome, as in the same language customer was the Archpriest, physicians were Priests, workmen, secular Priests, journeymen, Jesuits, &c.]. His brother had asked him to give what help he could to Father Bartoli. Speaking of the Gunpowder Plot, he says, “I had once occasion to inform myself of that history, and I found none better than the two books of Eudæmon Johannes, the one Ad actionem Edouardi Coqui Apologia pro P. Hen. Garnetto, the other, Parallelus Torti ac Tortoris. Though the things be there spread and scattered, yet they are (if collected) very pertinent to clear Father Garnett and ours; for example, among other things this is one, that the traitors had among themselves made an oath that they would never speak of their designs to any Priests, because they knew they would not allow of it; also, that they were specially offended with the Jesuits for preaching patience and submission. There are divers other circumstances which manifestly excuse ours. I had a relation made me by one of ours who had it in Civil [Seville], which clearly shows that the whole Plot was of Cecil's making; but it being only told by an old man, who forgot both times and persons, I believe I shall never make use of it. Yet I have heard strange things, which, if ever I can make out, will be very pertinent. For certain the late Bishop of Armagh, Usher, was divers times heard to say that if Papists knew what he knew, the blame of the Gunpowder Treason would not lie on them. And other things I have heard, which, if I can find grounded, I hope to make good use of. It may be if you write Civil to my brother Frank, he will, or somebody else there, give you some light in this business.”]

[^227: This Philip Beaumont was Father Oswald Tesimond, alias Greenway, (More, Hist. Prov., l. vii., n. 40, p. 336).]

The following extract is taken from a letter addressed by the Rev. John Thorpe from Rome, August 12, 1789, to Henry, eighth Lord Arundell.

“The collection of ancient papers at the English College here consisted of two sorts. The first belonged to the Stuart family, and was deposited there only after the old Chevalier retired into Italy. Neither Rector nor any other person in the College knew anything of the contents, which were locked up in a strong chamber, of which the keys were kept in the Palace of SS. Apostoli, and everything was carefully removed to that palace several months before the oppression of the Society. The other collection related to ecclesiastical matters, from the time of Henry VIII. to the beginning of the present century; it had been a repository of all papers and letters of many indefatigable men in preserving a faithful remembrance of whatever was interesting to religion during that period. But different removals of these papers, which were very many, had thrown them into disorder. Father Booth can tell in what state he left them. I have before mentioned to your lordship a MS. relating to our British saints, written in the manner of a calendar, in which many curious passages of history frequently occurred. I do not think it had been seen either by Father Alford (who wrote the annals of our British Church up to the year 1180) or by Mr. Wilson, who digested the English Martyrology that was daily read at St. Omer. Other MSS. of this kind were also in the same place, while I lived in the College. Afterwards, when the storm began to blacken over us, divers attempts were made to put these papers into a place of security; but every means miscarried. They never belonged to the College, and among what are the College archives many very interesting papers remain belonging to the Jesuits. The papers above mentioned were finally destroyed by one accident or another, to prevent further fears of molestation in those days of arbitrary persecution. If anciently there had been any valuable MSS. in the old hospital, they were supposed to have been removed when it was converted to the purpose of a College, because scarce anything more than accounts of pilgrims, house expenses, and like articles, remained under that date, and even these in no regular order. Thus I apprehend that no material intelligence of remote historical facts can be gathered from hence.”

“I will now venture to tell your lordship of a curious MS. that a very unforeseen accident brought into my hands, at a considerable distance of time from the oppression of the Society, and from the total removal of the Jesuits from the College. It is a long account of the Gunpowder Plot, from beginning to the end in the original handwriting of Father John Gerard. It is a folio volume of about 300 pages, composed with an extensive knowledge of the persons concerned, and of whom several curious anecdotes are recounted. Father John Gerard suffered much on occasion of that Plot, wherein the prosecutors tried every means to involve him in one manner or another. During the plundering and ransacking of the Houses at the oppression, such an account was reported to have been found in the Novitiate by the notorious Alfani, and it immediately was sought for by our countrymen, and instructions were said to have come from our Court at London for obtaining it at any price. But on further examination that account contained no more than relations of the religious lives and edifying death of those Jesuits who suffered on that occasion. I have never heard what became of those papers, but suppose them to have been destroyed, with very many others of no less edification. I must find some good place wherein to deposit the relation above mentioned; it is very curious, though it contains no new intelligence of the fact described in it. It is written with a singular candour that distinguishes the good religious man, and with a politeness that marks the gentleman. Your lordship may signify all this with my best respects to Mr. More” [the last English Provincial before the suppression], “desiring his counsel on the manner of disposing of this valuable MS., every line of which may be esteemed a relic for the eminent sanctity of the writer.”

Lastly, we have an extract from a letter written from Rome, March 26, 1791, by the Rev. John Thorpe to the Rev. Marmaduke Stone, President of the English Academy at Liége.

“Among other things with me is one very singular piece, which I look upon as a kind of property of your House, at least in the light wherein it stood twenty years ago. It is an original folio MS. all in the handwriting of venerable Father John Gerard, wherein he gives an ample relation of the Gunpowder Plot; and it is, I believe, the only relation extant that was written by a person accused of being in any manner acquainted of it. This article demands your secrecy, and it is earnestly recommended to it; but your counsel is also asked, where and how this rare depositum should be placed. Religion has nothing to fear from it. A summary of its contents was sent some time ago to England, and was in the hands of Lord Arundell. At the time of the Society's suppression here, a commission came hither from England (supposed to be given by the Court) for purchasing at any rate, if any such relation should be found among the Jesuits' archives. A long Latin account of Father Garnett's sufferings was triumphantly seized among the papers of the Novitiate, and occasioned the vulgar mistake of what was sought being really found; but the contents, when understood, notoriously demonstrated the contrary. This is written in English, in that easy devout style for which everything of the writer is remarkable. It is a valuable relic.”

Though we cannot exactly determine the date of the MS., we can approximate to it pretty nearly. First of all, it is clear from the mention of Sir Thomas Gerard's knighthood at p. 27, that the book was written before the creation of baronets in 1611. At page 282, Father Southwell's martyrdom is said to have happened eleven years before. As he died in 1595, and Father Gerard escaped from England in May, 1606, the Narrative would seem to have been written in the latter part of that year. We have, besides, Father Grene's statement that it was “written soon after the martyrdom” of Father Garnett, and Father Gerard's own assertion in his Autobiography: “I myself, when I came from England to Rome, was ordered to put in writing an account of the whole affair, and did so as well as I could.”

The original MS. of the Autobiography no longer exists. Father Grene had seen it; for an analysis of it, transcript. ex autographo ipsius, in his hand is in the second volume of the MSS. kept at Stonyhurst under the name of Collectanea, which we have quoted under the letter P. The MS. we have used,[^228] which belongs to Stonyhurst, bears the title, “Narratio Patris Joannis Gerardi de rebus a se in Anglia gestis.” It purports to be a copy from an original at the Novitiate of St. Andrew, in the hands of Father Francis Sacchini, the historian. We have no means of knowing whether it is the same copy as that which existed, according to Father Grene,[^229] in the volume of the Collectanea called D, in the English College at Rome. He mentions it under the title of “Narratio P. Joannis Gerardi de tota vita sua. Copia.” The Autobiography was composed in 1609, as is plain from the mention of Robert Drury's martyrdom, which our author says happened two years before the time when he was writing. This good Priest suffered at Tyburn, Feb. 26, 1607.

[^228: For our translation we are indebted to the pen of Father Kingdon. Portions of it have appeared in the Month, and, rendered into French by Father Forbes, in the Etudes Théologiques at Paris.]

[^229: Collectanea M, f. 52 h.]

We now leave Father John Gerard in the hands of the reader, parting from him with sincere respect, and sharing good old Father Grene's affection for him, who in some notes, written in preparation, apparently, for an English Menology, has set down as applicable to Father Gerard the phrases, “Non ipse martyrio, sed ipsi martyrium defuit,” and, again, the Church's antiphon for St. Martin, “O beatum virum, qui totis visceribus diligebat Christum! O sanctissima anima, quam etsi gladius persecutoris non abstulit, palmam tamen martyrii non amisit.”

Additional Notes.

P. x. and p. 26.—Elizabeth, the mother of John Gerard, was the eldest of the three daughters and co-heiresses of Sir John Port, and at her father's death, June 6, 1557, Etwall became the property of Sir Thomas Gerard. This is the “dwelling-house within two miles of” Tutbury “Castle where” Mary Queen of Scots “was kept,” where Father Gerard lived when a child for three years. Sir John's second daughter, Dorothy, took Dale Abbey in Derbyshire to her husband, George Hastings fourth Earl of Huntingdon; and Margaret, the third daughter, by her marriage conveyed Cubley in the same county to Sir Thomas Stanhope, grandfather of the first Earl of Chesterfield.

Father Gerard had three sisters, Mary, wife of John Jenison; Dorothy, wife of Edmund Peckham; and Martha, wife of Michael Jenison. In the British Museum (Harl. MSS. 6998, f. 197) there is a report, dated June 16, 1595, from Edward Cokayne, evidently a Derbyshire magistrate, of assistance given by him to William Newall, “one of the messengers of Her Majesty's Chamber,” in searches in that county. The following paragraph relates to one of Father Gerard's sisters: “The first house that we searched according to his direction was the house of one Mr. Jenison, that married one of my Lady Gerard's daughters, she being a great recusant, and not her husband: howsoever, it is reported that there is great resort of strangers, but what they be, we cannot learn, neither at this time did we find any there, but pictures in the chambers according to their profession. Only one West that was a messenger between the seminaries was fled six weeks before we came, and whither he is gone, as yet we cannot learn.”

P. xii.—It is not easy to reconcile the dates at this period of Father Gerard's life. He could not have been nineteen when he went to France, for he lived at Rhemes three years, one at Clermont, and about a year in England before he was committed to the Marshalsea; he was a full year in that prison, and after his discharge his recognizances were renewed for perhaps another year before leaving England for Rome, and he was in the College about seventeen months before he was ordained Priest towards the close of 1587, when he yet wanted several months of the canonical age for the Priesthood, that is, twenty-five. From this we should gather that when he first went to Rhemes he was under seventeen, which would have been in 1580.

On the other hand, it is equally difficult to understand the date given in the Douay Diary, August or September, 1577, which would make him fourteen. Perhaps this was a visit to the continent before going to Oxford, which he says was when he was fifteen, spending a year there and two years afterwards with Mr. Leutner as a tutor. The Douay Diary has the following entry. “1577. Aug. 29 die, advenerunt ex Anglia Mr. Paschallus vir nobilis, et quidam Aldrigius mercator: eodem etiam tempore adventavit Mr. Gerrardus D. Tho. Gerrardi Equitis Aurati filius.”

P. xv.—The following is the entry respecting Father John Gerard in the Liber Annalium of the English College at Rome: “Joannes Gerardus Anglus dioecesis Lichfeldiensis annum agens 23m, aptus ad theologiam positivam, receptus fuit in hoc Anglorum Collegium inter alumnos SSmi. D. N. Sixti V. a P. Gulielmo Holto hujus Collegii Rectore de mandato Illmi. Hippoliti Cardis. Aldobrandini Viceprotectoris sub die 5o Aprilis Anno Dni. 1587, cum fuisset antea Convictor per septem menses.”

“Anno Dni. 1587 mense ... accepit ordines minores, et mense Augusto Subdiaconatum, et Diaconatum 9o mense die 16.”

His name appears in the Pilgrims' Register of the English College, as having been there received Aug. 5, 1586 (Stonyhurst MSS., Father Grene's Miscell. de Coll. Angl., p. 19).

P. xvi.—The Douay Diary gives us the dates of Father Gerard's arrival at Rhemes and his departure thence, together with the names of his fellow-travellers. It is clear that if they left Rhemes on the 26th of September, and remained at Eu until they could receive an answer from Rome, they could not possibly have landed in England so soon as the end of October. “1588. Sept. 21 die, Roma ad nos venerunt D. Rodolphus Buckland, D. Joannes Gerard filius D. Thomæ Gerard Equitis Aurati, D. Arthurus Stratford” [whom Gifford, the spy, called Shefford], “D. Edouardus Oldcorn presbyteri. Die 26 Angliam ituri discesserunt D. Jo. Gerard, D. Rodolphus Buckland, D. Arthurus Stratford et D. Edouardus Oldcorn.”

P. xxx.—In the Public Record Office (Domestic, Eliz., vol. 244, n. 7) are two forms of indictment of Richard Jackson, Priest, for saying Mass, and of various members of the Wiseman family for being present at Mass, on the 25th August and the 8th September, 34 Eliz., 1592. The endorsement is “Masse-mongers.”

P. xxxviii.—Line 22, for “Worcestershire” read “Warwickshire.” See p. 282.

Pp. xlv., lxx.—In his examination Brother Emerson frankly acknowledged himself to be a Jesuit Lay-brother, and “sometime Campion's boy.” A copy of his examination is in the British Museum (Harleian MSS., 6998, f. 65). It is dated April 17, 1593, and bears the marginal note “Ley Jesuite.” “Ralph Emerson of the bishopric of Durham, scholar, of the age of forty-two years or thereabouts, examined before Sir Owen Hopton, Knight, Mr. Doctor Goodman, Dean of Westminster, Mr. Dale, Mr. Fuller, and Mr. Young, who refuseth to be sworn, but saith first that he hath [been] in prison these nine years—namely, three years and a quarter in the Counter in the Poultry, and the rest of that time hath been in the Clink—committed by Mr. Young for bringing over of books, called my Lord of Leicester's books as he saith, and hath been examined before Sir Francis Walsingham, and before Mr. Young, and before others divers times, and was never indicted to his knowledge.”

“Item, he confesseth that he is a Lay Jesuit, and took that degree at Rome fourteen years since, and was sometime Campion's boy, and sayeth when he took that Order he did vow chastity, poverty, and obedience to the Superior of their House, and if he sent him to the Turk he must go.”

“Item, being urged to take the oath of allegiance to Her Majesty, refuseth the same, and saith he may not take any oath.”

“Item, he saith he hath neither lands, goods, nor other living, but will not set down by whom he is maintained and now relieved.”

“Item, he refuseth to be reformed, and to come to Church, affirming that he will live and die in his faith.”

“Item, being demanded whether if the Pope should send an army into this realm, to establish that which he calleth the Catholic Romish religion, he would in the like case fight for the Queen's Majesty on her side against the said army, or on the army's side, saith that he will never fight against Her Majesty, nor against the religion which he professeth.”

“Concordat cum originali.—H. Fermor.”

P. xlvi.—Father Tesimond, in the Italian narrative already mentioned (p. ccxlviii) as forming part of Father Grene's volume C (fol. 185), says that, when he came to England in 1597, Father Garnett was living in a house called Morecroftes, at Uxbridge, twelve or thirteen miles from London. There may have been a friendly house at Brentford, for this was their place of meeting on one occasion when they had suddenly to leave Uxbridge on account of a search.

P. liii.—Dominam ipsam domus in suo cubiculo cum puellis suis clauserunt (MS.) More probably “with her daughters” than “with her maids.” William and Jane Wiseman had three children, Jane, Dorothea, and Winifred. John who married Mary, daughter of Sir Rowland Rydgeley, had two daughters, Lucy and Elizabeth, and an only son, Aurelius Piercy Wiseman, who was killed in a duel in London in 1680. The following inscription on his grave, in Wimbish Church, is given by Wright (History of Essex, vol. ii., p. 134): “Here rest the sad remains of Aurelius Piercy Wiseman, of Broad Oak, in this parish, Esq., the last of the name of that place, and head and chief of that right worshipful and ancient family, who was unfortunately killed in the flower of his age, December 11, 1680.”

P. lvii.—From the Life of Anne Countess of Arundel, published in 1857 by the Duke of Norfolk (p. 308), we learn that, during the Earl's imprisonment, “she hired a little house at Acton, Middlesex, six miles distant from London.”

P. cxl.—Father Tesimond relates a search some two years earlier than this, in which Father Joseph Pollen escaped capture (Stonyhurst MSS., C, fol. 184).

Pp. clxvi. and cciii.—Sir Oliver Manners wrote the following letter in Italian to Father Aquaviva, General of the Society, from Turin, April 17, 1612, shortly before his eldest brother's death (Stonyhurst MSS., Angl. A., vol. vi.). “I cannot tell you what comfort I received from the letters of your Paternity. The troubles I then had will tell it better than I can, for, when I was seriously ill, my brother the Earl sent to say that I was to expect no more help from England, as the King has entrusted my houses and estates to him, and would not permit him to send me a penny. Precisely at that moment the letters of your Paternity reached me, and seemed to me sent by the Lord to make me touch with my hand how His Divine Majesty never abandons those who hope in Him and suffer for His love; and as at that time I had a great desire of suffering more and more, if so it should please our Lord, so my strength returned to me far more rapidly than I could have expected, and thus I assured myself that it was the Divine will that I should reach my intended goal, there to do something for His service, sive per vitam sive per mortem. And so I undertook my journey, and have already reached Turin. To-morrow I start for Lyons. In England I cannot expect anything better than that which has befallen the Baron” [Vaux], “my companion, who is in prison by the King's express orders, and expects to lose all he has; for his mother is already condemned to the punishment called præmunire, that is, the loss of all temporalities and perpetual imprisonment, for refusing the oath of allegiance, as they call it. The grace I ask from God is so to bear myself that I may always show myself grateful for the many favours of your Paternity, as becomes a disciple of the Society, and for this intention with all humility I asked to be armed with your blessing, and I beg to be partaker of the Holy Sacrifices and prayers of your Paternity and of all the Society. In conclusion with all reverence I kiss your hand.”

P. clxxxiv.—The following is the confidential report made to the General respecting Father Gerard, previous to his profession. By a singular chance the paper in which it is contained is the only one of similar reports that has come to our hands. It is amongst the Stonyhurst MSS. (Angl. A., vol. vi.). Father Gerard's name is the ninth on the paper. We translate from the Latin: “Father John Gerard, English, forty-five years old, nineteen in the Society, twenty-one on the English mission.” [The writer was not aware of the true date of his admission into the Society.] “He studied at Rome in the English College controversy and cases of conscience for four years.” [These four years must include his three years residence at Rhemes.] “He was admitted in England, where he made his noviceship. He is a very spiritual man; he is endowed with an admirable power of gaining souls; he has also more than middling talent for preaching; and he is held to be not unfit for government. If these talents can supply the defect of learning, taking also into account all that he has suffered for the Catholic faith, then he is proposed for the four vows. It would be a consolation both to himself and to the many Catholics of note, by whom he is held in high esteem. But if not, then he is proposed for profession of the three vows.”

P. cxc.—Among the papers of Sir Edward Phelips, preserved at Montacute House, Somersetshire, of which a copy has been deposited in the Public Record Office by the Historical MSS. Commission, we have the examinations of two of Mrs. Vaux' servants, one of whom is the “Ric. the butler” of whom Lady Markham speaks.

“The examination of Francis Swetnam, servant to Mrs. Elizabeth Vaux, and served her in the bakehouse, taken the third of December, 1605. Saith that he hath been a recusant these two years, but will now come to the Church, for that he had rather adventure his own soul than loosen his five children, but cannot give any reason why he should adventure his soul by coming to Church. Saith that he was taken in his mistress' house and brought up with her to London, but denieth that he was ever at any Mass, or that he knoweth any Priest, and cannot deliver any other material thing to be set down. The mark of Francis Swetnam, Jul. Cæsar, Rog.r Wilbraham, E. Phelipps, Jo. Croke, George More, Walter Cope, Fr. Bacon, John Doddridge” (f. 25).

“The examination of Richard Richardson, butler to Mrs. Vaux. He saith he hath served his mistress about six years, and hath not come to Church since he was eleven year old. Saith that since Midsummer last Catesby was at Harwardds [Harrowden] only one time, which was about St. Luke's Day; and Sir Everard Digby was there only twice, the former time about the 6th of August and the later time about St. Luke's Day; and that Francis Tresham was not there this twelvemonth; Mr. Rookwood these three years; and that Winter, Grant, Percy, Morgan, were never there during his service. And for matter of faith or revealing of Priests or Masses, he desireth to be spared, because it concerneth his soul. Richard Richardson, Jul. Cæsar, Rog.r Wilbraham, Jo. Croke, John Doddridge, Walter Cope, George More, Fr. Bacon.” Endorsed—“6° December, 1605” (f. 32).

These papers (f. 58 et seq.) likewise contain Serjeant Phelips' Brief for the prosecution of Sir John Yorke for complicity with the Powder Plot, about 1612. The first three of “five general heads” of accusation are: “1. That Gerard was received by Sir John Yorke both before and after the Powder Treason. 2. That secret passages and places were made for Gerard at Golthwaite. 3. That a private diet was provided for him.” A few specimens of the evidence will show that, whoever it was who frequented Sir John Yorke's house, at all events it was not Father Gerard, who never set foot in England after May, 1606. Francis Brown: “He hath seen Gerard the Jesuit at Sir John Yorke's house called Golthwaite both before and after the Powder Treason. He hath seen Gerard the Jesuit within this seven years at least twenty times. The last time was at Audebroughe in Christmas last [1610], when Gerard lay secret in the house all the Christmas. And once he went up into the chamber where Gerard was sitting by the fire. And resteth assured that Sir John Yorke knows where Gerard is. That there was no half year passed since the Powder Treason but he saw him at one of Sir John Yorke's houses, and mentioneth four particular times.” The marginal note is, “The servants to Sir John Yorke all deny the conveying of Gerard or the knowledge of him, whereof Johnson was put to torture and denied it.” William Browne the elder “names the place where he met him in North Wales, soon after the Powder Treason and before the Proclamation.” William Browne the younger: “On Martinmas Day was two years, in a Close called Burnings, near Sir John Yorke's house, near a ford, he met Johnson on foot, and a man like to the person described by the Proclamation to be Gerard on a mare of Sir John Yorke's called White Friar.” Robert Joye: “As he was working in the hall at Golthwaite in the summer before the Powder Treason, about the later Lady Day in harvest, Marmaduke Lupton, the steward to Sir John Yorke, came to him and told him it was my lady's pleasure he should remove out of the hall and work in the buttery. Whereupon he removed into the buttery, and Lupton put the door to. Whereat he marvelling pulled open the door a little, and saw Lupton bring in a reasonable broad man. And the Lady Yorke came out of the parlour and met him in the entry that goeth to the kitchen, and up the stairs to the garret she said, 'Welcome, Mr. Gerard,' which this examinate perfectly heard, for there was but an inch board between. Mr. Gerard was carried up to the garret chamber, and remained there a month, not coming openly down. Heard Lupton, Grange, and Almond many times severally ask the cook secretly whether Mr. Gerard's meat were ready.” Sampson Baines: “The Lady Yorke did use to appoint what meat he should dress for dinner, and what for the chamber, which was commonly two dishes and no more.” The margin here has, Margaret Almond: “She carried no meat at any time to any strangers, saving such as were her master's and lady's friends. She made shift to carry up meat, though she go with a crutch and have but one leg.”

P. cxciii.—From the following letter it appears plain that the names of the Ambassadors are wrongly given. And a witness named Parsons, examined Dec. 12, 1605, says that a “Priest named Tempest went over with the Spanish Ambassador about Bartholomew-tide last” (Montacute Papers, f. 46). So the Conde de Villa Mediana left England in the latter part of August, 1605.

Father Baldwin from Brussels to Father Persons at Rome, May 20, 1606. “Since my last, five days ago, arrived at —5 (St. Omers), 469 (Father Gerard), where also is one” [Richard Fulwood] “whom 456 (H. Garnett) was wont to use in all his chief business of passage, receiving and retaining of all things. I take it he be 229 (Jesuit) also. They are yet 627 (secret), and so it is requisite for a time, especially in that the 194 225 (Marquis Ambassador) brought them, and by his dexterous and courteous manner had great care of them. The Marquis of St. Germain came hither two days ago, and both he and D. Blasco de Arragon came as well informed of our English matters as I could wish. They have made relation accordingly to the Nuncio, and this morning to me, who have been with them a long while. They praise the courage and constancy of Catholics marvellously, and have an apprehension of the daily increase of them, as also that the better sort in England are inclined Catholicly and such in profession. They speak much of the zeal of the Lady of Shrewsbury and of the indignation of the King, who, hearing of the manner of Father Ouldcorne's death and requesting all Catholics to pray for him and say De profundis, there were found so many to say that aloud, as they were esteemed a great part of the number, and so many by signs and voices to have given show of Catholic profession, as all were amazed. Thus they report; and also that Father Garnett was to be executed the day which they came away, in Paul's Churchyard, although another writing from St. Omers says that it was deferred the day following, for that the day first appointed was May Day, and Father Garnett, being advertised of his death, should answer, ‘What then, will you make a May-game of me?’ Howsoever, it is held for certain that he is dead, and that Marquis told the Nuncio that therefore he departed the sooner, as unwilling to be present at such a tragedy.... I think Father Gerard may live in these countries after that Mr. Owen is delivered (of whom the Archduke mindeth to have great care), yet he who is said to have had correspondence with him, one Philips the decipherer, is now committed to the Tower. And it were very necessary one of ours remain in Paris, for which place Father Keynes might serve for a time, at least in that he is not a man noted, and hath the French tongue, as having lived there. Father Schondonch is of my opinion, and Father Gerard will do well in his place after some month or two, if things alter not much, for he can hardly be in any other place in regard of his indisposition, if it be as I have heard. I shall soon know more thereof. Father Lee were good in England in my opinion, for the consolation of many of ours, and Father Gerard's friends, all which I remit to your consideration.”

The same to the same, July 3, 1606. “I have not as yet received from England from any of our Fathers; only John Powell, the interpreter of the Spanish Ambassador, relateth what passed at the execution of Father Garnett, upon the 13th May Stylo Novo and the 3rd Stylo Vetere. He hath given exceeding satisfaction to all sorts, and much confounded our enemies of the one sort and other. He was drawn according to the usual manner to Paul's Churchyard upon a hurdle and straw; his arms were not bound neither when he was executed. Such concourse of people as hath not been seen.... The Spanish Ambassador would not remain in London that day; he hath got his shirt, and some of his blood is sent to Spain, which I have seen here, also his apparel is gotten, as I hear. Here now is Richard Fulwood, who telleth me that Father Gerard is very sick at St. Omers; that said you would have him come to Rome. I fear me that journey will kill him.”

Father Gerard quickly rallied from his sickness, for in less than a fortnight after this he wrote from Brussels to Father Persons, under the pseudonym of Fr. Harrison. The letter is so characteristic of the man that, though long, we give it in full, from the original at Stonyhurst (Angl. A., vol. vi).

“July 15, 1606.”

“Jesus. Maria.”

“Pax C.ti.”

“Most dear and respected Father,”

“I have received your letters of the —— last, wherein you show your fatherly care and undeserved love unto me, as were sufficient to bind unto you any grateful heart, although he were not tied with former obligations. But I am so much and so many ways bound unto you before by favours of the highest kind, that these do only tie me unto you with new knots, though I was before so wholly yours and so firmly tied that sincerely I had rather not to be than be untied. I beseech you, sir, that you will be pleased to present my humble duty unto Father General, in whose favour though your good word do procure me that place which I can no ways deserve, yet this I hope you may promise for me, that I will now begin to do my best endeavours, that I may be framed in all things as is fit for a child of that most holy family whereof he hath the care, that both by my voice and hands he may acknowledge me for his child, the better to deserve the blessing of so great and good a father. I would now acknowledge my duty by letters, but that I am ashamed of my Latin, and loath to trouble with so rude lines, unless there were further occasion or that you thought it needful. But I hope to come and do my duty in person so soon that it will not be necessary to signify it by letters. I will stay as you appoint until I have your letters for my coming forward, and in the meantime will not be solicitous one whit, having no desire in the world whereof I would not most willingly leave the whole care unto you, and indeed desiring to have no other desires but yours so far as I may be able to discern them, after that I have expressed my reasons as I know you would have me to do, and after that you know me better and my many great wants, which, that they may be more exactly known unto you, makes me so desirous to be with you for some time, howsoever it may please you to dispose of me afterwards. And if the chief cause why you think it best for me to stay awhile in these parts be for that you would have me secret as yet, and especially not to be seen with you there whilst the appellants are negotiating their uncharitable accusations of their brethren, then I suppose you will think I may be fully as secret there as here, if I be first wary in my coming into the town and then be your prisoner for some time (which I most desire), and then go to St. Andrew's, without visiting any holy places and being seen in the town until you think it convenient. And because, in my second and third letters, I expressed my earnest desire of this private course at my first coming, I suppose I shall hear from you in your next letter or the next but one, that you think best I come forward, unless you wish my stay for some other reasons than the desire of my being secret. I grant I might perform my desire of some time of recollection either in Louvain or in the new House if it go forwards, under Father Talbot; but I have many reasons why I desire first to be with you for some time, which I think you would allow of if you knew them. And I would be glad also if it might be to begin in St. Andrew's, to draw there some lively water out of the chiefest fountain, and this rather in the winter than to come the next spring, because I much fear my health if I be there in the heats. But after I have been there for some time, for so long time as you shall think it convenient that I stay in that school, I shall be glad to be Father Talbot's Minister here, or to have some office of action under him, if my health do require any exercise of body. I hear there is one prepared for Minister that is very fit, but I could have care of the Church, and then perhaps should get some stuff to furnish it from some friends of mine in England; or I could have care of the garden, for I am excellent at that (if you will permit me to praise myself), for that was much of my recreation in England, and I hope my brother will witness with me that he hath seen a good many plants of my setting and tasted the fruit of some of them. But indeed, dear Father, if it may stand with your liking, I would be very glad to see you and be with you for some days before I settle anywhere, how private soever my abode there be, either at the first or for the whole time of my stay, as yourself shall see it best. As for the settling of any with my friends, I have done it before my departure, leaving my old companion and dear friend, Father Percy, in the place where I was, who is so much esteemed and desired by them as none can be likely to be more profitable. Most of my other special friends I commended partly to Father Antony [Hoskins], and partly to him, both which are most grateful to all my friends and acquaintance, and indeed I know not any two there that, in my simple opinion, better deserve it. As concerning Father Roger Lee's going into England, if you please that I write justly that I think, there be divers reasons for which I think it, at this time, very inconvenient. First, in that he is so profitable where he is, that it will not be easy to find another will do so much good in that place; and, in one word to express my opinion, for ought I see, the most good of the House, both for external discipline and for progress in spirit, dependeth upon his care and effectual industry, wherein I should think it more needful to provide him more helpers of like desires and practical endeavours (who would conspire with him and have talents to effect both with the good Rector and with the scholars, that which they should together find to be most expedient). The Fathers which be there do very well, but all are not of like apprehensions and proceedings, and I suppose if yourself did see all particulars, you would think Father Roger to be a strong helper to the good of that House, and that it would nourish much if it had some others of his like. I know not where to name one upon the sudden, unless it be Father Henry Flud [Floyd], whose zeal and practical proceedings I think would be very profitable for that House, if he may be spared, and truly in my opinion upon the good of that House dependeth much the good and quiet of the other Colleges, besides much edification to many, both friends and enemies, unto whom this is a continual spectacle.”

“But besides this reason (which alone I take to be sufficient) I wish Father Roger's stay for the good he may hereafter do in England, which I do hope will be great, and therefore great pity it should now be lost before the fruit of so likely a tree can come to ripeness. For, sir, yourself can better judge that none can be much profitable in England until he have gotten acquaintance there, and until his acquaintance by their trial of him have gotten a great opinion and estimation of him, which then they will spread from one to another, and every one will bring his friend, who upon hearing will be desirous to try, but after trial will say unto the friend that brought him, ‘Jam non propter sermonem tuum credimus sed ipsi,’ &c. By this means one shall have, after some continuance, more acquaintances and devoted friends than he can satisfy, and more business in that kind than he can turn his hands unto; but this is supposing he may at the first go up and down to get this acquaintance, and to be so known unto many; and until he have means so to do, if he have never so good talents, yet he shall not do so much good as a meaner person that is better acquainted. Now in this time I do verily think, if the laws be put in execution, there will be no means at all to get acquaintance, but the best acquainted shall have difficulty to help his known friends, and to be helped by them with safe places of abode as [I have declared at] large in my last letters, and they must lie much still and private and do [good part of] their [work by means of le]tters. Therefore, although I know Father Roger would be as much esteemed of my special friends as any that could be sent (unless my brother” [probably Sir Oliver Manners] “had served his apprenticeship and were made a journeyman, for of his skill and workmanship in framing the best wedding garment there is great and general hope conceived) yet, things staying as they do in England, and Father Roger so well acquainted now with the place where he is, and thereby also more profitable there than a stranger could be, although as fit for the place as himself (which truly I think will be hard to find) my friends also being already furnished in England: these reasons move me to think it neither needful nor best that Father Roger go thither as yet: which yet in a more quiet time I shall be bold to beg for, if I see the College where he is so furnished that without great loss it might want him. I find Father Roger desirous of England if it were thought best, but wholly desirous to do that which yourself do think most convenient, but when I urge him to speak his very thoughts whether he do not think the College would be at want, he cannot deny but that the College hath need rather of more than less help, and surely I think if it were another's case of whom he might with humility acknowledge how profitable he is, I do think he would absolutely do his best to hinder it as I do.”

“For the answer to your questions, though in my last long letters I did in part answer to most of them before I received yours, yet now I will briefly again set down my opinion to the several points, Father Baldwin having written of them in his last, I being at St. Omers; but now I am come to him, being advised by the physician there to go to the Spa for the drying up of my rheum, which here I shall take further counsel of, how far it is needful, and whether the great rains have not made the waters of less force. I am here private, and more private than I could be at St. Omers whilst the banished Priests are passing by. I think I shall hear within two or three posts your further pleasure; if not, I will return and then begin to talk with the youths there, or do any service I can as you appointed in your last. In the meantime, with many humble thanks for your many undeserved favours, I rest this 15th of July.”

“Your Rev. son and servant wholly to command,”

“Fr. Harrison.”

Address—“Al molto Rev. in Christo Padre, il Padre Roberto Parsonio, Rettore del Collegio delli Inglesi, Roma.”

To these we must add an extract from a letter of Father Persons dated December 29, 1606, and evidently written while Father Gerard was at Tivoli (Stonyhurst MSS., P., vol. ii., f. 447). “The man you name, to wit, Ger[ard] passed this way some months gone, but made little or no abode, lest offence might be taken thereat, only I can say that during the few days which he remained he gave great edification for his behaviour and sundry great testimonies of his rare virtue, but most of all of his innocency concerning that crime whereof he was imputed in the proclamation, about which himself procured that his General should judicially examine in presence of divers witnesses, commanding him in virtute sanctæ obedientiæ to utter the truth therein to his Superior, whereupon he swore and protested that he was wholly innocent therein, which the rest of his behaviour doth easily make probable. I shall cause him to be advertised by the first commodity of the note you write about his friends.”

P. ccviii.—As Father Gerard certainly left Belgium in 1622, and therefore could not have been in the Tertianship at Ghent in 1624, there must be a mistake in the name of the Father who reconciled to the Church James, Lord Maltravers, in the July of that year, as related in the Life of Anne Countess of Arundel (p. 232). It is there said that “before his death he was so fortunate as to be visited by Father John Gerard, a Priest of the Society, who, together with others, lived there” [at Ghent] “in the house which his grandmother a little before had erected.... By that Father he was in fine reconciled to the Holy Church.”

P. 240.—James Garney, servant to Sir Everard Digby, “confesseth the journey to St. Winifred's Well and the particular places where they lay, and that Darcy [Father Garnett] and Fisher [Father Percy] were with them, and the whole company thirty horse” (Montacute Papers, f. 52).

Pp. 240 and 254.—Father Ouldcorne in his letter to the Privy Council (P. R. O., Gunpowder Plot Book, n. 214) says respecting the verse of the hymn of All Saints: “Also he [Father Garnett] told me they charged him with a prayer that he should pen or make against the beginning of this Parliament: but he said that he denied that ever he penned or made any such. ‘Perhaps’ (said he), ‘they have heard that sometimes this summer I have wished Catholics to pray, for that we had cause to fear there would be more severe laws made against us this Parliament than had been as yet. Or else they have heard how sometimes upon occasions I have told how Cardinal Allen had got an indulgence of Gregory XIII. for all those that did devoutly for the conversion of England say that verse which is in the hymn of All-Hallow Day, Gentem auferte perfidam, &c., and the Psalm lxxviii., Deus venerunt gentes.’”

P. 306.—Father Garnett to Anne Vaux from the Tower (P. R. O., Gunpowder Plot Book, n. 245). “Mr. Hall [Father Ouldcorne] dreamed that Father General would have him and me professed. He said that I was professed already. ‘Yea,’ quoth he, ‘but I will have him professed of ten or eleven vows more.’ And there were provided two fair tabernacles or seats for us. And so he awaked, and falling asleep again, had the same dream.” Anne Vaux to Father Garnett (ibid., n. 246). “Mr. Hall his dream had been a great comfort, if at the foot of the throne there had been a place for me. God and you know my unworthiness. I beseech you help me with your prayers.”

A Narrative Of The Gunpowder Plot.

Jesus Maria. The Preface.

The blessed Apostle, Master, and Teacher of us Gentiles, instructing the Romans in the cause and means of their salvation, affirmeth, that God hath ordained we must be conformed to the image of His Son, our Lord and Saviour Jesus, “Et quos præscivit (saith he) et prædestinavit conformes fieri imaginis filii sui.”[^230] Upon which place St. Jerome and other Doctors do teach that it is the will of God, both in this life and in the next, to frame and fashion us both in grace and glory unto that most perfect pattern.

[^230: “For whom He foreknew, He also predestinated to be made conformable to the image of His Son” (Rom. viii. 29).]

So that if we will reign with Christ, we must expect to suffer with Him in the way unto His Kingdom, “si compatimur et conglorificabimur: si commortui sumus et convivemus; si sustinebimus et conregnabimus.”[^231] Yea, with that condition we are accepted, and in that measure we must look to be rewarded, ut “sicut socii passionum sumus, sic simus et consolationis.”[^232]

[^231: “If we be dead with Him, we shall also live with him: if we suffer, we shall also reign with Him” (2 Tim. ii. 11).]

[^232: “As you are partakers of the sufferings, so shall you be also of the consolation” (2 Cor. i. 7).]

This, therefore, hath been the course and manner of proceeding of Almighty God with His elected servants; even from the beginning, and will continue unto the end of the world. So when there were but two men born upon the earth, and those brethren, yet one did persecute the other, the wicked did kill the innocent. The Patriarchs had all their several probations, and lived but as pilgrims in the world; the Prophets sustained many persecutions, and sundry of them were put to cruel deaths for avouching the truth. The best and chosen part of God's servants towards the end of the Old Testament were proved and purged with many tribulations, they were diversely tormented and slaughtered in such manner as that saying of the Prophet David was justly applied unto them, “Carnes sanctorum tuorum et sanguinem ipsorum effuderunt in circuitu Jerusalem, et non erat qui sepeliret.”[^233] And St. Paul doth reckon up in few words the many pressures both of those and other Saints of the Old Testament, saying, “Lapidati sunt, secti sunt, in occisione gladii mortui sunt, circuierunt in melotis,” etc.[^234]

[^233: “The flesh of Thy saints and the blood of them they have shed round about Jerusalem, and there was none to bury them” (1 Mach. vii. 17).]

[^234: “They were stoned, they were cut asunder, ... they were put to death by the sword, they wandered about in sheep-skins,” &c. (Heb. xi. 37).]

So that this being the case and condition of the servants and Saints of God even before the law of grace, much more may we expect, and it will be expected at our hands, that seeing now our King and Captain, Christ Jesus, doth go before us with a Cross, we should all, and each of us in particular, both willingly and joyfully take up our crosses and follow Him: seeing Truth Himself came down from Heaven to lead us by Himself this way unto life everlasting, good reason we should follow Him in the same path, “quia nemo venit ad Patrem nisi per eum.”[^235] If Christ did confirm it by many scriptures, “quod oportebat Christum pati, et sic intrare in gloriam suam,”[^236] much more must we contend to enter in at the same gate, although it be narrow and strait, especially seeing we enter not into our own but into His glory. And it were a monstrous thing that the head should go in at one door, and the parts of the body in at another; neither can it be so, unless the parts be divided from the head, and consequently not quickened with the same spirit that giveth life to the body, than which nothing in this world should be so dreadful.

[^235: “No man cometh to the Father but by Me” (St. John xiv. 6).]

[^236: “Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and so to enter into His glory?” (St. Luke xxiv. 26).]

This made the Apostles willingly to accept of that portion which Christ did leave them, as it were, for an inheritance in this world, when he said, “In mundo pressuram habebitis,” and again, “plorabitis et flebitis vos, mundus autem gaudebit, vos autem contristabimini;”[^237] that knowing well, that His promise was most assured, and that their sorrow should be turned in gladness, “et hoc gaudium nemo tolleret ab eis.”[^238]

[^237: “You shall lament and weep, but the world shall rejoice, and you shall be made sorrowful.... In the world you shall have distress” (St. John xvi. 20, 33).]

[^238: “And your joy no man shall take from you” (St. John xvi. 22).]

The same lesson have all the Saints of God learned and in all ages have practised. The vineyard of Christ was watered for 300 years together with continual showers of blood running abundantly out of the holy veins of slaughtered martyrs, from whence, although there did rise a plentiful harvest of famous conversions and gain of souls, and at the last succeeded the peace and propagation of the Church, in so much that crowns and sceptres of Kings and Emperors were submitted unto it, yet did not Peter's ship sail long with a prosperous gale, though Christ were in the ship, Who would not suffer it to sink; for He did sleep again, and suffer the bark to be tossed with many furious storms by Arians and other succeeding heretics who rising in several ages did impugn the verity of our Christian faith, as before the heathens had fought against the divinity of the Father, so then the Arians against the divinity and equality of the Son, and others in their times and turns against the several articles of the Creed, until the Grecians raised war also against the third principal part thereof, denying the procession of the Holy Ghost from the Son; and lastly, now, towards the end of the world, the heretics of our age, Luther and his progeny, do perfect that imperfect work, and fight against God's truth in the last articles of the Creed with all their force. Wherein, although the fury of their raging waves do beat in vain against the ship of Christ, against which “nec portæ inferi prævalebunt,”[^239] yet is the ship in the meantime in the midst of the storm, “motus autem magnus factus est in mari et navicula operitur fluctibus.”[^240] And this much more in our afflicted country of England for the present than in any other, which now may justly be said to be that “stagnum in quod descendit procella venti ita ut compleatur navis nostra fluctibus et periclitamur.”[^241] So that no marvel though His disciples be there troubled, though yet we should not be terrified, having Him ever present with us, “qui imperat ventis et mari et obediunt ei,” and of Whom it is truly said, “Ego dormio, et cor meum vigilat.”[^242] For although He seem to wink for the time, and to dissemble the injuries that are done unto His servants, yet is His Heart awake, and His will doth both watch to defend and ward us from evil in the meantime, and He will in time, when He seeth it fit and best for us, impose silence to our adversaries, and give peace to His tried servants.

[^239: “The gates of hell shall not prevail” (St. Matt. xvi. 18).]

[^240: “A great tempest arose in the sea, so that the boat was covered with waves” (St. Matt. viii. 24).]

[^241: “There came down a storm of wind upon the lake, and they were filled and were in danger” (St. Luke viii. 23).]

[^242: “I sleep and My Heart watcheth” (Cant. v. 2).]

This is then the state of this present age, and this the course which God hath ever continued from the first, to purge and perfect His Church by oppositions, by tribulations and afflictions; that He may hew the stones here hard by the quarry, which must afterwards be placed in their due order and ranks in His heavenly temple, where no blows with the hatchet must once be given, no sound of the hammer must be heard, that may hinder the happiness or disturb the harmony of that heavenly city. Here in this vale of misery all are beforehand fitted and prepared (as the Church doth sing in a holy hymn speaking of the like matter)—

Tunsionibus, pressuris,
Expoliti lapides,
Suis coaptantur locis
Per manus artificis,
Disponuntur permansuri
Sacris ædificiis.[^243]

[^243: “Stones, polished smooth by blow and pressure, are fitted together each in place by workman's hand, and set in order, ever to abide in the sacred fane.”]

And this being so, and so much to the advantage of those who are so exercised and perfected by the same, so prepared by crosses to receive crowns of everlasting glory, we may gather thereby both what mind they should be of, that are in the battle, and what their thoughts and actions that are lookers-on.

For the first, no doubt but remembering Whose cause it is we do sustain, Whom we have for our King and Captain in the combat, and Who it is that hath promised to assist us in our sufferings, and to reward and crown us for our labours sustained and victories obtained in this spiritual battle. [As[^244] before hath been touched,] there[^245] is no doubt but we should think it most just and requisite to sustain all difficulties in the cause of so great and good a Lord, most honourable to follow such a Captain, and most comfortable and commodious to serve and suffer for such a [Master][^246] and so true and liberal a [rewarder]; and therefore grant that we are bound by many titles with ready will and earnest desire, yea, with true contentment and assured confidence to bear the poise of this persecution.

[^244: The passages in this Preface enclosed in brackets are alterations in the original MS. made in another but contemporary handwriting. The erasures in the original are given in the footnotes.—Ed.]

[^245: I say. Orig.]

[^246: Such a Lord and so true and liberal a paymaster. Orig.]

But it is no less apparent what in the meantime should be conceived of our case, and what should be performed by those that are not in the present labours which we poor men are forced to sustain, nor under the [scourge][^247] which God for the time doth suffer to be laid upon us. No doubt but they also should humble themselves under the mighty hand of God, considering that their time of temptation and trial may also come (as it is an easy matter when one house is on fire for the next neighbours' houses to [take the same fire][^248]), and withal that they are to conceive worthily and honourably of their brethren, whom they now see to be tried and purified in the furnace of many tribulations by the heavenly goldsmith, thereby the better to beat and fashion the metal of their eternal crowns; with whom in the meantime they should concur and cooperate by their charitable assistance in prayers and other helps.

[^247: Whip. Orig.]

[^248: To be inflamed. Orig.]

This may well be thought to be their part, and so they may expect to be partakers with us also in the retribution, which we expect at the hands of God. So doth the Apostle counsel the Corinthians, touching corporal assistance to their absent and afflicted brethren. Having praised the Macedonians for the like, he saith, “Non enim ut aliis sit remissio, vobis autem tribulatio, sed ex æqualitate. In præsenti tempore vestra abundantia illorum inopiam suppleat, ut et illorum abundantia vestræ inopiæ sit supplementum,” etc.[^249] In like manner may we desire and expect help from our neighbours, that they out of the abundance of their present peace and power to do us good, will help in what they can, every one in that wherein he most aboundeth: Princes with their power and authority, in being mediators for us to our King for some mitigation of our afflictions; courtiers, in often soliciting for this help at their Princes' hands; the Clergy, by often offering the Divine Sacrifice, and holding up their hands with Moses unto God for us, that we may not faint in the battle; preachers, by often commending our case unto the people; the Religious, by applying their prayers and merit for the continuance and increase of our constancy; and secular persons, in such several manners as they are best able to perform; the wise, in commending and justifying our cause; the rich, in opening their purse unto our present needs, and maintaining of such scholars as are preparing in our seminaries to be workmen for the harvest. Yea, the poorest and meanest sort of our Christian Catholic brethren [abroad] may assist us much by their good wishes and good words when occasion is offered; and all by their daily prayers both to God and His Saints for us, “ut possimus accipere armaturam Dei, et resistere in die malo, et in omnibus perfecti stare,” etc.[^250] And so by this means assisting us about our tents and provision, either in furnishing or in guarding the same, although they be not present with us in the battle, yet will our just David give them their share and part in our victory and spoils, every one according to the measure of his aid and assistance.

[^249: “For I mean not that others should be eased and you burthened, but by an equality. In this present time let your abundance supply their want, that their abundance also may supply your want” (2 Cor. viii. 13, 14).]

[^250: “Take unto you the armour of God, that you may be able to resist in the evil day and to stand in all things perfect” (Ephes. vi. 13).]

But here, if any do seem to complain of our want of constancy and patience in suffering—and some perhaps be rather ready to blame than to pity us, in regard of a late attempt of some Catholic [gentlemen][^251] in our country, most worthy indeed to be blamed and misliked [for the rashness and temerity thereof]—we expect notwithstanding more equity and charity at their hands than to condemn the whole number for the error of a few, or to deem that action the effect of all our desires, or fruit of our endeavours; [whereas][^252] the contrary is most true, and so testified by the chief of the [conspirators themselves][^253], and proved by the process of all examinations and proceedings in law against the [said] delinquents, as shall after appear.

[^251: Catholics. Orig.]

[^252: For. Orig.]

[^253: Contrary party. Orig.]

[^254] Yea, the [dealers][^255] in that tragical device had so little hope of help from other Catholics, either spiritual or temporal, towards their designments in that plot, that they neither did nor durst impart the same even to their nearest and dearest friends, in whom otherwise they had all confidence and trial both for secrecy and fidelity in other matters, as the chiefest and wisest amongst them all did testify at the bar in public audience. Neither did any Priest once dream of the matter, or so much as know of it by way of confession [or otherwise] until the [whole plot was][^256] contrived, and had been [by all likelihood] put in execution if the Parliament had gone forward on the first or second days in which it was appointed. But when the said session was prorogued the third time, and some of the conspirators in long delays, [besides the general light which they presumed to have drawn by certain obscure questions which to that end they had proposed, though their purpose was not understood by them that gave the answers,] were desirous to have some [more particular] advice of some one or two of the most learned and virtuous they could find, they opened the matter in confession unto one of the Society, and by him in like manner unto his Superior, with most strict charge unto both of all secrecy, according to the privilege and seal of that holy Sacrament. At which time the Superior did not only charge the other to dissuade and forbid that unlawful and inhuman action, but did likewise by all lawful means himself seek to hinder it, as shall appear in the sequel of [the ensuing narration][^257].

[^254: Sir Everard Digby in clearing the Society.]

[^255: Actors. Orig.]

[^256: Until the whole matter was plotted and prepared and had been without doubt. Orig.]

[^257: This discourse following. Orig.]

If then they had neither help nor heartening, neither counsel nor encouragement from any Catholic [man and much less Priests, but rather to the contrary from][^258] those few that by chance, and in that most secret manner, came to know of it much against their will, how can it then be laid unto the rest? How can others be blamed for it where all were ignorant of the matter [except only the said][^259] two persons, and those did seek to hinder it with all their power? Doth equity or charity permit to lay the fault on those that were not guilty? or to attribute part of the blame to those that were noways partakers in the crime? Yea, doth not charity rather move the minds of just men to take pity and compassion of those few that were offenders [rather than] to be stirred with indignation against them, and for their sakes against others that are innocent? “Vera justitia (saith St. Gregory) compassionem habet, falsa verò dedignationem.”[^260] And doth not St. Bernard counsel us to excuse the fact if we can; if not (as in this present matter where it is so apparent to be evil), yet to excuse the intention; and in the hardest and plainest case that may be, at least to search out what motives and incentives they might have urging them to such an error.

[^258: But the contrary from. Orig.]

[^259: But. Orig.]

[^260: “True justice hath compassion, but that which is false indignation.”]

Truly, if we [may][^261] judge of their minds by the words that came from them even when they had no hope of life, or by all the signs that were to be seen either in those that died in the field, or those that were put to public justice, [at the very last instant of their lives,] we should rather be moved to think that [not so much][^262] impatience [as] zeal (although “non secundum scientiam”) did stir them up to that strange and [violent][^263] attempt, for so they all deeply and seriously protested at their death. Assuming belike the Machabees for their example, who seeing numbers of their brethren to suffer patiently the unjust oppressions of their adversaries, answering only in words unto them and saying, “Moriamur omnes in simplicitate nostra et testes erunt super nos cœlum et terra quod injuste perditis nos.”[^264] They would not follow the example of their [said] brethren therein; [but being of more intolerant heat and fervour than the rest, said one to another][^265], “Si omnes fecerimus sicut fratres nostri fecerunt et non pugnaverimus pro animabus nostris et justificationibus nostris, nunc citius disperdent nos a terra.” This, [I say, seemed to have been in their minds and apprehensions][^266] if we may judge of them by their carriage in their greatest extremities, with which also they opened unto the world other motives [both at their arraignment and death], which they thought to be of no small moment; as the many and great calamities they had long endured; the promises of toleration received from the King, now contradicted both in word and action; all hopes cut off of help from other Princes either by force or favour, seeing many of them would not so much as believe the persecution to be great, but rather give credit to their persecutors' tales, seeking by all subtle means and many instruments sent abroad for the purpose to have the contrary believed in foreign countries; which, with the general peace concluded [with all Catholic Princes round about], and no peace granted to Catholics, but their penalties increased, and like so to continue by the likelihood of continuance of that flourishing issue with which God hath blessed our King (which they thought did alter the state of their sufferings very much from that it was in Queen Elizabeth's time). These things did seem to move them much, and as they thought necessarily to seek a remedy, if not for themselves, yet for the relief of others, which they being but a few, and out of hope of any help from the most and best of the Catholics of England, could not possibly effect, [as erroneously they conceived,] but by some such stratagem, wherein the chiefest strength should be resolution and secrecy, both which in the chosen number of so few persons they thought abundantly provided for. They took not indeed the course of the Machabees, which they deemed in their case to be merely impossible. But they affirmed their end to be same, and their cause and reasons much more important. So Catesby protested at his death in the field, and Digby at the bar, that not for themselves but for the cause of Christ; not for their wives and children, but for the Church, the Spouse of Christ, and saving so many thousand souls, the children of God, from eternal flames, they attempted with fire to cut off the chiefest heads and only causes of that greater ruin. “Yea,” said Digby [ready now to die], “in respect of this cause, I little regard, or rather I could be well content, both to offer my life and fortune and also to have my posterity rooted out for ever.” So that if we shall judge of these men by their zeal, or their zeal by all the signs by which men's minds are judged (especially in cases of extremity where human respects give little cause to move dissimulation), we may the better follow St. Bernard's rule and interpret charitably [with compassion] their [final] intention, although [their immediate motives were unlawful, and therefore] the action for many and great respects neither was nor is to be allowed.

[^261: Should. Orig.]

[^262: No impatience but zeal. Orig.]

[^263: Desperate. Orig.]

[^264: “Let us all die in our innocency, and heaven and earth shall be witnesses for us that you put us to death wrongfully.” “If we shall all do as our brethren have done, and not fight against the heathen for our lives and our justifications, they will now quickly root us out of the earth.” 1 Mach. ii. 37, 40.]

[^265: But said one to another. Orig.]

[^266: This might seem to have come into their minds if we shall judge. Orig.]

And if St. Bernard did think this manner of interpretation of others' actions to be requisite in the lovers of charity, I hope then I may much more require that at least others will support with patience that act of impatience in that small number of our brethren and [not impute it to the whole number of Catholics; no, nor beyond the rule of charity to condemn the delinquents themselves by extreme exclamations and maledictions, as some do, but rather according to the Apostle's rule in lenity of spirit to have pity of them, and reproving their fact, esteem of their persons and other parts, as otherwise they depend, of whom myself and many others can testify that, setting aside this unfortunate evil action, by all good men deplored, they were known and held, before they fell into the same, to have been as wise, temperate, circumspect, and devout gentlemen as commonly England had, and such as would not have committed a voluntary injury against any man for a world][^267].

[^267: That they will follow the rule of the Apostle, saying, “Fratres, si præoccupatus fuerit homo in aliquo delicto, vos qui spirituales estis hujusmodi instruite in spiritu lenitatis.” This is not to condemn them severely, to cry out against them, to inveigh bitterly against the men and their minds and intentions whatsoever: oh no, “in spiritu lenitatis,” saith the Apostle. We that be Catholics in England do all with one voice grant the fact to be evil, we neither did nor would for a world have concurred with the action; but we pity the persons whom we knew to be otherwise wise and circumspect as any they left behind them; yea, devout and zealous men as any one shall see in a kingdom, and divers of them of so tender consciences that they would not to save their life have deceived their neighbour of a penny, or wittingly have admitted the least offence to God. Orig.]

Thus we disclaim from all participation of this [fact] intended by a few in their deceived zeal. Yet we follow not the example of those that will not follow the rule of charity in their judgments. And much more we do and may stand upon the justice of our cause, and prove that it is altogether against the rules of reason, justice, and charity, to lay the fault of a few upon the whole number of Catholics in that country; who neither did nor would have concurred, nor were partakers either by work or will in so barbarous a cruelty intended: no, nor so much as imagined there could enter such a thought into the hearts of any of their company.

The verity whereof with the innocency of all Catholics in that respect will plainly appear by the narration following of the whole matter how it passed, which at the earnest request of some principal friends on that side the sea I am moved to set down. And although I know myself much less able than they imagine to pen it in such manner as the greatness of the matter and rareness of such an event deserveth, yet I hope to satisfy their desire for the matter itself, if not their expectation for the manner of handling, promising to [set down] the story truly as it passed, without partiality to the one or other side; and to conceal no circumstance (whereof I could have sufficient information) which may truly explain the intentions, actions, and events of the whole matter, wherein I had perhaps more helps to know both many and true particulars than others could easily procure.

The whole I intend and offer to God's glory and the good of souls: desiring only this of the pious reader, that as I will perform my part in truth and fidelity in the whole narration, so he will not be wanting of his part to perform the rules of equity and charity both towards me and the matter I write of; especially towards those that in so honourable a manner do daily and hourly sustain the cause and quarrel of Christ, not only “in[^268] sole et pulvere,” but “in sanguine,” also “et vulneribus multis.” And so “alter alterius onera portantes adimplebimus legem Christi.”[^269]

[^268: Not only ‘in the sun and dust’ but ‘in blood’ also and ‘many wounds.’]

[^269: “Bear ye one another's burdens, and so you shall fulfil the law of Christ” Gal. vi. 2.]

Or thus it may end:—

And so we suffering for the cause and they assisting in the cause “alter alterius onera portantes” (according to the counsel of the Apostle) “adimplebimus legem Christi.” And being with charity joined in the works of grace we shall by the author of charity be conjoined in the rewards of glory, “quæ præparavit Deus diligentibus se.”

Chapter II. [I.] The State Of Persecuted Catholics At The Queen's Death And The King's Entry, With Their Hopes Of Relaxation By Him, Whereof They Failed.

I was desirous by the former chapter to make known unto you the state of things how they passed in England until the end of Queen Elizabeth's reign; wherein though I was more long than I had thought to be, yet little methinks is said in comparison of that feeling which we must needs have that live here, and see daily before our eyes “abominationem desolationis stantem in loco sancto;”[^270] that have so many causes to put us often in mind of the glory and splendour of the Church robbed and spoiled by the first schism under King Henry, overthrown and defaced by heresy, beginning to prevail under King Edward; and wholly trodden upon and cruelly persecuted during all the long reign of Queen Elizabeth, in which all means were used that policy could invent, or power perform, to root out all Catholics and Catholic religion out of England.

[^270: “The abomination of desolation standing in the holy place” (St. Matt. xxiv. 15).]

To which effect they continually devised and imposed all kinds of penalties upon such as would profess the Roman Faith. They made sundry and most severe statutes (as may appear in the end of this book) against all practice of Catholic religion. They made it death to receive the absolution of a Priest; yea, death to harbour a Priest in house, or to give him a cup of drink, or any assistance in his need; death to persuade any to the Catholic religion. They laid the premunire, which is a punishment worse than death, for keeping an Agnus Dei, or hallowed grains, or such like comforts of soul, that come from Rome. Finally, whatsoever the wit or malice of the least pitiful hearts could find out, all that was inflicted and laid upon our backs. For commonly they were such that were put in authority, either in searches, or examinations, or executions—such were authorized, such were countenanced, and borne out whatsoever insolencies they committed against us, of which infinite examples might be alleged. As for death itself, though it was the ordinary pain of the law against Catholics for practice of their Faith (acts of religion being now made acts of treason), and so came often in practice; yet was it not so heavy a load as we felt by the other laws, and the outrageous execution of them, in far worse sort than yet the laws permitted or had devised against us. True it is they put to cruel death many and worthy persons. One famous and religious Queen, mother to this King who now reigneth—an act not oft recorded in other persecutions, though never so severe. One also of the ancient Earls they put to death in like manner by the sword; two or three others of the chiefest whilst they were in prison. Other noblemen died in banishment; and many persons of great families and estimation were at several times put to death under pretence of treason, which also was their cloak to cover their cruelties against such Priests and Religious as were sent into England by authority from His Holiness to teach and preach the Faith of Christ and to minister the Sacraments. But he that would endeavour those things in this time was not “amicus Cæsaris,”[^271] and as such, both the Priest himself must be condemned and he that would show him any favour.

[^271: “Cæsar's friend” (St. John xix. 12).]

Of this kind the number was great that suffered (our difficulty considered in preparing them, and penury of so fit workmen), but their worth was much greater than this short treatise can or may contain: it is worthily reserved for a more full discourse, and indeed it will require a just volume by itself. It shall suffice us here to know, that as all were holy and full of spirit, fit for men that are sent in such an Apostolical mission, so many of them excelled in rare gifts, and for such were known and esteemed highly by Catholics before their apprehension. There was of them a Campian, so eloquent, and so much overmatching the heretics in public disputation (although they came fully armed and provided against a prisoner after tortures, preparing himself to die), that a courtier went from the disputation presently to the Queen, and said if that man were suffered to live he were enough to pervert the whole realm. Convert, they would have said, but that heresy would not permit their tongue to tell the truth. There died with him a most valiant Sherwin, full of St. Laurence his fervent spirit, and ten other Priests, redoubted servants of Christ, each one singular in their kind. Amongst whom one other was of the Society, called Brian; a man of such devotion to the Passion of Christ, that when he was extremely racked before his martyrdom, his mind being fixed in the meditation of Christ His Passion, he felt not their torments, nor any pain but only a little in one hand, upon a lively impression he then had of the pain our Lord suffered when His holy hands were pierced. What should I reckon up a Cornelius, so famous in preaching that all Catholics followed him as children do their nurse when they long for milk, and the man so full of the Apostle's charity, that with one fervent speech in imitation of the offer which St. Paul made to be “anathema pro fratribus,”[^272] he expelled a devil out of a person whom he was exorcising. I know the time and place where it was performed; and where another wicked spirit confessed in a possessed person that his fellow was cast out by Cornelius his charity. This good Father was the third of the Society which suffered death by public justice for profession of the Catholic Roman Faith.

[^272: “I wished myself to be an anathema from Christ for my brethren” (Rom. ix. 3).]

What a famous man, and how much beloved was Father Southwell! whose excellent parts England cannot forget; and if it would be so ungrateful, yet his works there extant, so full of spirit and eloquence both in prose and verse, would suffice abundantly to make the cruelty of his persecutors much accused, and his life so shortened much lamented, who living would have been so profitable and pleasing to all sorts. His value and high merit before God was much to be seen, in that he was delivered over by God's ordinance to encounter hand to hand the cruelest tyrant of all England, Topliffe, a man most infamous and hateful to all the realm for his bloody and butcherly mind; and this man had Father Southwell many weeks together in his house alone to use him at his pleasure, where he kept him in his boots as he was taken, with bolts of iron upon his arms, and in a chamber without any bed or straw to lie upon, where he was to turn himself upon his side, and lie upon the floor like a dog when he list to sleep, as full of lice as he might hold. There also he put him nine times most cruelly upon the torture, which Father Southwell at his arraignment professed was more grievous to him than nine deaths could or would have been. About that time also suffered at York another famous Priest of the Society called Father Henry Walpole, whom first they had tortured fourteen times in the Tower, and that in very extreme manner. This gentleman was known to be of excellent parts before his going over to take that happy course of Religious life, in so much that with his sweet conversation and devout carriage he won divers to be Catholics even then before he was Priest, and it was expected he would have proved an excellent workman in that harvest, if the cruelty of heresy had not cut him off. But his merits were such as God would defer his crown no longer, and so at his first landing he was apprehended in the north, and therefore carried thither again to be executed, after they had in vain made trial at London to make him confess by torments something against the state of Catholics and their profession or practice. When he came to die all men admired his patience, and religious humility, and mortification, wherein he very much excelled.

It were too long, and not for this place to reckon up the great number of rare men both Religious and Secular Priests that suffered in Queen Elizabeth's times, “quibus dignus non erat mundus.”[^273] But yet this persecution by death, though it were cruel to them that suffered, and most injurious to the Catholics that were by that means bereaved of their most beloved Fathers, yet were the persecutions in other respects more grievous to be borne and much more intolerable. Their torturing of men when they were taken to make them confess their acquaintance and relievers, was more terrible than death by much, as Bl. Father Southwell professed at the bar; and this the rather both because the pain continued longer and was often iterated, and chiefly for that it was not an end of their probation in this world, but many after such torments are forced to walk on their voyage towards Heaven for many years, being uncertain of their perseverance in that estate of fervent love to God with which they offered themselves for Him to torments, and would more gladly have done it unto death, if such had been His pleasure at that time.

[^273: “Of whom the world was not worthy” (Heb. xi. 31).]

Besides the spoiling and robbing laymen of their livings and goods, with which they should maintain their families, is to many more grievous than death would be, when those that have lived in good estate and countenance in their country shall see before them their whole life to be led in misery, and not only themselves, but their wives and children to go a-begging. And some, in like manner, that lose not all at once, but have somewhat left, are worse than the rest, for they have not so much as is proportionable to their charge, and yet being known to have something, can have no colour to live on alms, as others do (even some of very worshipful families), and live much better than diverse of these that have this little left them.

And to these the continual and cruel searches, which I have found to be more terrible than taking itself. The insolencies and abuses offered in them, and in the seizures of goods, the continual awe and fear that men are kept in by the daily expectance of these things, sith every malicious man (of which heresy can want no plenty) is made an officer in these affairs, and every officer a King, as it were, to command and insult upon Catholics at their pleasure. These, and the like aggrievances, Catholics having now sustained during the whole reign of Queen Elizabeth, was it not now time for them to hope that God would say unto them, “Levate capita vestra quia ecce appropinquat redemptio vestra?”[^274] We had now suffered more than the full number of years, not days, of this deluge of persecution pouring down upon us. Was it not now time for us to look out and to long that the earth would begin to dry and afford us some quiet habitation upon it? Were we not now to expect that some gracious bird would bring us an olive branch in sign of peace, which we had looked for so long and desired so much? True it is that most Catholics had great hope and expectation of this King James, then King of Scotland only. And this hope, as a human help of no small force, did join with God's grace and bring some comfort with it, amidst the many discomforts sustained under the long-continued reign of Queen Elizabeth.

[^274: “Lift up your heads because your redemption is at hand” (St. Luke xxi. 25).]

First, they did, and might, expect that the son of such a mother (who not only lived a Catholic in her kingdom and in prison, but died also because she was a Catholic) would himself also be a friend to Catholics at least, if he would not be a follower of Catholic religion. St. Monica, by her tears and prayers, did win her son, St. Augustin; the hope was also in England that “filius tantorum meritorum perire non poterat.”[^275] And who could think that the son would join in friendship and confidence with them, and with only them that had betrayed and slain both his father and mother, and who had kept himself so long like a ward in his own kingdom. Besides they could see no cause why King James should follow the course that Queen Elizabeth had done. For she in the beginning of her reign was persuaded by her Council that for reason of State it was needful she should break with the See Apostolic and maintain the new religion, that might depend upon her supremacy and supreme authority expressed by the laws of Parliament. This they pretended to be needful, first, in respect of her nativity, which they knew was not esteemed legitimate by the See of Rome. Again, in regard of the particular favour which it was known the same See did bear unto Queen Mary, then Dowager of France and Queen of Scotland, living and reigning there in all prosperity; who therefore was much envied and feared by Queen Elizabeth and her Council at that time. Unto which also was added the well-known affection of all Catholics in England unto the said Queen Mary, in respect of her true descent from King Henry VII. and her constant love and profession of the Catholic faith: these seemed great motives to Queen Elizabeth, and sufficient to lead her into the labyrinth of an heretical course. But these could not be objected unto our King James, who was the true and hopeful issue of his so worthy mother and the same so glorious a martyr. Neither could he fear the favour or furtherance of the See Apostolic, which favoured him much and assisted him many ways whilst yet he was but King of Scotland and professed a contrary faith. What might he then have expected if he had offered himself and his realm of England unto the obedience of the Church, if he had trodden that path which all his ancestors had walked, and wherein both they and the kingdom of England did so much flourish. Yea, what applause, what congratulation, what assurance of friendship and assistance against all his enemies might he have expected as most certain, both from His Holiness, and the like from all Christian Princes? Yea, truly, this seemed so strong a reason to induce His Majesty to that happy course, that many Catholics, knowing his wisdom and learning, could not persuade themselves how it could be possible that he would be drawn to any other manner of proceeding, especially seeing that as on the one side all peace with the Christian world was sure to be knit in firmest league of friendship; on the other side, they could not see how he could expect any long or assured peace with the pillars of God's Church, if he should begin to persecute the same afresh, as the late Queen had done before him. For it were in vain to begin that war against the Church, if he meant not to do his best endeavours to root out the same out of the world, if he could; because he might be sure the more he proceeded therein the more he would exasperate both God and all good men against him. This mind Catholics could not expect in a Prince of so great judgment and so many good parts, as they had cause to think him to be of. These hopes also were much strengthened by his own words, published unto the world in that fatherly and princely gift of his unto his son, wherein amongst many other grave and wise documents unto the young Prince, one is, that he do cherish and make much of those servants whom he hath known to be faithful unto his parents, of which his counsel he first giveth divers true and judicial reasons, and afterwards confirmeth the same with his own experience, affirming in plain words he found those most true and trusty to himself who had been faithful followers of hers, and so on the contrary side in like manner. To this effect His Majesty delivered his mind unto his son, and therewith great and comfortable hopes unto all Catholics, that they who had been true lovers and followers of his mother should find favour, and that such as had either done or suffered greatly in her service should find an answerable requital and advancement.

[^275: “The son of such great merits could not perish.”]

These hopeful signs of future favour were yet much in particular confirmed by the constant report and asseveration of divers, who in the said Queen Elizabeth's reign had lived under His Majesty in Scotland, as well English as of the Scottish nation, who did everywhere affirm and divulge both at home and abroad, and in all Princes' Courts of the world (as it is well known to the said Princes), the great and singular hope and expectation that was to be conceived of this King for his good nature and rare parts, as mansuetude, compassion, equanimity, high esteem of his said mother and of all those that had faithfully loved and served her. And albeit that for his religion he could be no other than as he had been brought up and instructed, yet was he averse from all severity of persecution against such as were of different religion, especially the Catholic; granting it to be the ancient mother religion of all the rest, though in some things now amiss in his opinion. And that out of his own reading he had observed that all his ancestors, Kings and Queens both of England and Scotland, without exception had been of the Catholic Roman faith and religion, and that himself was the first among them all that ever professed a different religion from them. These reports were spread by many and in many places. But some others more particular and assured are said to have been sent by particular embassagies and letters from His Majesty unto other Princes, giving hope at least of toleration to Catholics in England, of which letters divers were translated this year into French and came so into England, as divers affirmed that had seen them. Yea, and further than this, I am well assured that immediately upon Queen Elizabeth's sickness and death, divers Catholics of note and fame, Priests also, did ride post into Scotland, as well to carry the assurance of dutiful affection from all Catholics unto His Majesty as also to obtain his gracious favour for them and his royal word for confirmation of the same. At that time, and to those persons, it is certain he did promise that Catholics should not only be quiet from any molestations, but should also enjoy such liberty in their houses privately as themselves would desire, and have both Priests and Sacraments with full toleration and desired quiet. Both the Priests that did kneel before him when he gave this promise (binding it with the word of a Prince, which he said was never yet broken), did protest so much unto divers from whom I have it. And divers others, persons of great worth, have assured me the same upon the like promise received from His Majesty, both for the common state of Catholics and their own particular.

Now, more than this I think could not be, to give assured hope unto Catholics of some present relaxation by his gracious help from the many miseries and afflictions they had so long endured, being as much as they could expect or he perform until his settling. How ready Catholics were in all countries to receive him for their King, how forward to proclaim him, yea, how joyful to entertain and welcome him with all care and cost that might be, all the realm is witness. Insomuch that some set vessels of wine in the streets for all comers to drink, in show of their gladness; other Catholic noblemen at London cast store of money about the streets in sign of their universal joy. What cost all sorts of Catholics bestowed upon such furniture as was fit to welcome and meet both King and Queen, with the Prince who came at several times! All was done with such applause and jubilee as did well witness the joy and hopes they had conceived.

But now what shall we think to have been the state of all Catholic minds when all these hopes did vanish away; and as a flash of lightning, giving for the time a pale light unto those that sit in darkness, doth afterwards leave them in more desolation? What grief may we imagine they felt generally, when not only no one of these hopes did bring forth the hoped fruit, nor any promise was performed, but when, on the contrary side, His Majesty did suffer himself to be guided and as it were governed by those that had so long time inured their hands and hardened their hearts with so violent a persecution; yea, when he did not only confirm the former laws with which we were afflicted, but permitted new and more grievous vexations to fall upon us than before we had felt, and prepared yet more and more heavy whips wherewith to scourge us? Truly the event proved contrary to all our hopes. For, first, it was observed that some weeks after his being in England, he began to use far different speech of and against Catholics than was expected from the son of such a mother. And when soon afterward there ensued his first Parliament, he made a bitter speech (now extant in print) against them all; but especially, to our greater increase of grief and despair of comfort, against the See Apostolic, much different from that was expected, where so great favours and tokens of love had been received.

Now, whereas Catholics expected his published and promised honour to his mother and rewards unto her servants, it grieved them much when they saw no memory at all made of so memorable a mother either in word or work; she lying until this day obscurely in that place where her enemies cast her after cutting off her head: nor any man gratefully looked on or respected that belonged unto her or that made mention of her. As for those that did or suffered anything in her cause and quarrel, there is not any advanced nor yet recompensed for the great losses which some of them sustained in her behalf. Not long after the said Queen's imprisonment in England, there were three, two knights and one gentleman, that intended her deliverance and assistance to her settling again in her kingdom of Scotland [one of the three was Sir Thomas Stanley, next brother to the Earl of Derby, who had much land and many friends in that country where she was prisoner; the second was Sir Thomas Gerard, whose dwelling-house was within two miles of the castle where she was kept, and at that time had means sufficient to do good service in that behalf; the third was one Mr. Roulston, an esquire of good worth in the same country, and a very devout Catholic man and a stout gentleman].[^276] The meanest of which three had a son, being then a pensioner in the Court, who betrayed the whole matter and caused them all to be clapt in the Tower, where they were kept a long time in strait prison, and Mr. Roulston was condemned to die, against whom they were able it is likely to prove more particulars of the secret (by his son's means), than against the others. But it cost the others large sums of money and sale of land before they could be freed.

[^276: The passage within brackets is erased in the original.]

After this, about twenty years ago, there was another matter intended by fourteen gentlemen, Mr. Babington, Mr. Salesberie, and others of the choice of England, for the said Queen's deliverance and restoring to her right; wherein, though they were ensnared and entrapped by some politic heads that sought both their overthrow and thereby a seeming justifiable pretence to cut off the said Queen also, yet it was apparent by their examinations and executions, taking their death in so devout and resolute manner, that they intended sincerely the Queen's delivery for the advancement of the Catholic cause. At the same time, also, one of the foresaid knights[^277] was again committed to the Tower for the same cause, and kept there at least two years, though he had been so wary of his trust that they could not prove anything against him to put him to death with the rest; but it cost him much this time again, as that prison is ever wont to do to those that live in it, but especially to those that get out. Nor these nor any others of like deserts in other kind have been rewarded. True it is that the elder son of the knight,[^278] going to meet the King at his coming into England, His Majesty told him before divers (from whom I had it), “That he must love his blood, for that he and his had suffered persecution for him.” These were his words, showing indeed in His Majesty a good consideration of his servants and inclination to do for them; but it is likely that others overrule the matter, for,[^279] though he made that gentleman knight at that time, yet that was to him no advancement whose ancestors had been so for sixteen or seventeen descents together; but since he hath had no preferment at all, but rather kept back, as being known that his house hath ever been Catholic, though himself having long time followed the Court do not profess it as he should.

[^277: Sir Thomas Gerard. Erased in orig.]

[^278: Sir Thomas Gerard. Erased in orig.]

[^279: Underlined in orig. probably for erasure.]

Another[^280] worthy gentleman also, one Mr. Abington, was in the Tower for the same cause when the fourteen gentlemen were there prisoners. And this gentleman, having lately some Priests taken in his house, was condemned to die; and though his life be spared for a time (they say, in respect of his former suffering; but, indeed, obtained by the Lord Mounteagle, whose sister he hath married), yet is his house taken from him, one of the fairest in all the country, and all his lands and goods forfeited: which is much more grievous than death to a man of his devotion and resolution. These and many such examples are seen and noted in the realm, and not any seen to be advanced nor regarded that truly served or suffered for his mother: yea, rather the contrary; that His Majesty was so prevented and preoccupated with divers that pursued and both sought and wrought the ruin of his mother, that he seemed to give himself wholly into their hands, and not only himself but Catholics also, to be afflicted by them at their pleasure.

[^280: This whole paragraph is marked in the original.]

All this, we say, moved great exasperation and exulceration of minds, mixed with grief and despair, foreseeing that all would pass worse for Catholics under his reign than in Queen Elizabeth's time; when those that did persecute under her were doubtful what side might prevail or bear sway after her death, and therefore would be more sparing, and divers would seek to make the principal Catholics their friends against those times of uncertain event, which could not be far off in respect of the great age of Queen Elizabeth and her want of issue; whereas now no such fear is thought needful nor any such caution in policy requisite, the King being young and his issue like to continue and to uphold their proceedings: so that they may more freely and without fear persecute at their pleasure. Besides unto this general fear, which all Catholics had in seeing these former hopes of theirs to fail them, was added a full experience that neither hopes were to be by them expected nor promises by others to be performed. For whereas His Majesty, out of his gracious disposition, had promised much favour towards Catholics, both to other Princes and to divers particular Catholics that went unto him before his coming in, now the contrary was so much practised and all these promised favours so plainly denied, that they might not be so much as once spoken of or remembered that ever any such had been.

For, first, when at the end of the first Parliament the Puritans packed together therein, as well against His Majesty and his desires in the matter of union of the two kingdoms as also against the Catholics, and urged many new laws to their prejudice and for their greater affliction, His Majesty, that with one word might have staid their fury by saying (as it is accustomed in such cases when a Prince will show favour) that he would deliberate and consider of the matter, he confirmed first all the most sharp and rigorous laws and statutes which the late Queen or her father or brother had made against Catholics for afflicting them or shedding their blood. And, secondly, he adjoined new statutes of his own that augmented greatly the grievances of the former (which afterwards shall be set down), so as every sort of men, but especially the Puritans (that by all means desired to make the King odious unto Catholics), applied unto them presently those words of the young King Roboam to his aggrieved people—“My father pressed you with a grievous yoke; but I will aggravate the same yet more. My father beat you with whips; but I will scourge you with scorpions.” So that it is easy to guess with what terror and affliction the Catholics remained at that time. By all which we may plainly see, that not only all hopes were failed whereupon Catholics did build their comforts, but that it was also seriously endeavoured by some to give now all assurance of the contrary opinion, and so to drive men to despair, presuming perhaps that some amongst so many thousands would not be so patient as to bear it long, but that despair would urge them to some desperate attempt, whereby the chief causers of this persecution might give the better pretence of the cruelty they intended against them for the satisfaction of foreign Princes, that they might suppose these laws to be afterwards devised and not before determined or practised. And it is no marvel though divers Princes have been long in this error, knowing not the state of things with us; yea, rather being possessed of a contrary opinion to the truth of our sufferings by instruments employed of purpose, as also their whole estates were in like manner by the ordinary news, which were written in the gazettes to the end to be divulged. But Catholics that felt the smart before, had cause to believe the contrary, and that they received[^281] one blow upon the face with the fist, to make them fetch another against the wall. Yea, it is verily thought by many of the wiser sort, that these very things, with others that followed, were the spurs that set those gentlemen upon that furious and fiery course which they afterwards fell into; and being otherwise too forward of themselves, and not apt in those things to be retained with the bridle, did urge them to take the bit in their teeth and run headlong (being thus filled with despair of any good from this King's government) to that desperate course of cutting off the same to set up one of his younger children—a thing very much lamented by all the body of Catholics in England, whose thoughts were only bent how to possess their souls in patience, notwithstanding all the causes of grief and despair of remedy which I have alleged, and more that I must allege in the chapter following.

[^281: Were first beat till they cried, and then beaten for crying. Erased in orig.]

Chapter III. [II.] The Increase Of Persecution And All Kind Of Molestations Unto Catholics, With Their Failing Of All Hopes, Procured By The Puritan Faction.

Such as be acquainted with the state of affairs in England cannot be ignorant that there be many at this time of the Puritan faction put in authority and place of government, especially concerning the persecution of Catholics. All which, as they be further gone in heresy than the ordinary sort of moral Protestants be, so are they more violent enemies against all Catholics and Catholic proceedings. And this not only in respect of that spirit of heresy, which doth in greater measure possess them, but for reason of policy also they hold it very requisite. For although the Protestants are at this time the chief in Government, and their laws and ordinances preferred both in ecclesiastical and secular causes, yet are not the Puritans out of hope (if the Catholic party were taken away) to prevail against them in time, either by force or friendly means procured from their complices in other countries, in which kind they are much stronger than the Protestants, or else by force of argument and the Word, wherein they persuade themselves to have great power. And true it is, that under the pretence of more pure profession of Calvin's doctrine and a greater outward show of a more formal religion, they do win daily some or other new-fangled heads unto their sect from the Protestants, whose grounds are more uncertain to themselves, and nothing certain unto them but the following of the will and pleasure of those that guide the State, whatsoever they hold or ordain to be professed or practised. But as for the Catholics, they are holden and tried by the Puritans and the other also to be inflexible for matter of their faith, as having most sure and infallible grounds to rest upon, alleging for the same all kind of authority, showing antiquity with universal consent of all nations; and remaining now, as others of their side have done before them, in perfect union amongst themselves in all points of their belief. So that the Puritans having no hope at all that ever their private spirit shall be able to prevail against such an army of impregnable proofs by force of reason or argument they seek therefore, by all means they can devise, the overthrow of Catholics much more earnestly than the Protestants do, who are in themselves commonly less violent; and being placed at the helm in the chief seats for commodity and honour, are content to rest when they are well, and are not so busy and stirring as the Puritans are, whose rising spirit cannot be at rest until they be in possession of that which the others enjoy and they desire. Hereupon it followeth that the Puritans are most forward continually to incense the King against us; most violent also to execute all laws, and lay all kind of molestations and afflictions upon us, and besides most desirous of all occasions whereby to put us utterly in despair of help or favour, and so to force some or other to unfit courses, that the rest may be punished for their sake. And truly, as they were the men that did frame the Bills against us in the first Parliament after the King's entry, and did follow the matter most hotly to have both the former cruel laws remain in force and new penalties imposed upon Catholics, so when His Majesty had granted and confirmed all their desires against us, it is strange to see with what fury they sought in all places to execute the same cruelties—yea, much further in most places than the laws themselves did allow or would permit. And it is to be noted, that although the Puritans are not generally put in authority or used for the government of the Commonwealth (as men known to bear but hollow hearts unto the King, and to be much disgusted with his proceedings), yet are they ordinarily employed in the punishing and executing all kind of rigour against Catholics, as being tried by experience to be most vigilant in finding them out, most violent in afflicting them and most pitiless in their pains. So that in every shire, those Justices which be known to be most forward in the Puritan faction, though otherways they be little employed in matters of the country or esteemed of by the State, yet they are the men that are put in commission against Catholics—they are the searchers, they are the informers, they are the Judges, and they are made, as it were, the kings of Catholics.

[^282] From hence it came that the pressures of Catholics were much increased after the first Parliament and before that rash attempt of those gentlemen who were urged to that conspiracy (as most men think in those parts that know how things passed) by extremities which they saw to increase so fast, and their despair of helps in vain expected. For then presently, the execution of all laws against Catholics, both old and new, being committed for the most part to the Chief Justice, who is known to be hot and vehement in the Puritan faction and a bloody enemy to the said Catholics; and he, by direction of others and his own desire, having picked out men in every shire of the same humour to execute the same laws with all the rigour and despite they could devise. Then followed afresh the exaction of 20l.[^283] a month, which was imposed by Queen Elizabeth upon every Catholic that would not go unto their service, although for a time after the King's coming there was hope given both by King and Council that it should not be exacted: but then the whole was urged together with the arrearages. Yea, and not contented with twelve months in the year (as Nature hath appointed by course of the sun), they would have the payment for thirteen months in the year, after the account of four weeks in the month, contrary to the rule of ancient law affirming that Pœnæ non sunt ampliandæ. But if Catholics could enjoy for this payment any reasonable quiet, they would think themselves in great ease. But there is a law for the poorer sort of Catholics, that they shall forfeit two parts of their lands and leases, and all their goods and chattels whatsoever that can be found; upon which law (being executed as the Puritans use to do) many and great molestations do further ensue; for by this means they are not only indicted and cast into jails and prisons and their lands seized, as the statute alloweth, but also their goods embezzled and their cattle driven away. And if they find no cattle which they are assured to be the recusants', but that his fields be rented and stocked by other men, they drive that cattle also and put them to prove whose they were; and thereby terrify all men from hiring their said lands, wherein they also add diverse other particular afflictions that exasperate greatly the sufferer. These matters being committed for the most part to their handling, that care not how much or how far they strain poor Catholics, whereof no marvel if it come to pass according to the proverb—Qui nimium emungit elicit sanguinem—“He that scrapeth or rubbeth too much, draweth blood at last.”

[^282: Execution of penal laws upon Catholics.]

[^283: Interlined 80 crowns and in another hand 88 at least.]

It hath been also a matter of no small grief and complaint, that whereas there be now in England certain hungry and ravenous people that importuned the King for relief, having no rents or revenues in the land and yet living at a high rate and great charges many ways, His Majesty to give them content hath willed them to seek out Popish recusants which he might bestow upon them; wherein they then become diligent to inquire them out and restless in prosecuting them to the uttermost, and think all they can get too little: as it is indeed too little to satisfy their needs; which was a thing foreseen and foretold by some who yet are no prophets nor sons of prophets, but Protestants of the wiser sort, who, as it is said, when it was consulted of amongst all the Peers of the realm, before the King's coming, concerning his admission to the crown, some amongst them alleged that it might well be feared that the lean and hungry oxen which Pharao saw in his dream would devour all the fat and goodly oxen which their English fertile ground had fed so well before, and that these ravenous beasts would eat them up and yet seem to be nothing satisfied. Thus they.

And truly the meaner sort of these to whom Catholics were thus given, were not satisfied with the Catholics they could find out, but they also procured divers to be presented and indicted for recusants who were but well-wishers unto Catholics and went to church themselves; and yet some of them could not be delivered except they would publicly abjure their faith at the Assizes and Sessions, whereof sundry rueful examples might be given. In all which, the case seemeth to divers both grievous and odious, that true and freeborn subjects of good quality should be given as it were in prey to others. And for that the sequel of this matter appertaineth to many, the exasperation also rising thereof must needs be very general.

[^284] Now if we should stand upon the particular enumeration of the calamities which fall upon Catholics by private persons, and especially Puritans put in authority over them, the many insolences and molestations which are offered in the searches which are used in most odious manner, and so have been ever since this first Parliament, it would much afflict the hearts of the pious readers. And it is to be thought that many particulars thereof are not known to His Majesty, though all exercised and executed in his name and under his authority. What a thing is it for a Catholic gentleman to have his house suddenly beset on all sides with a number of men in arms both horse and foot, and not only his house and gardens and such inclosed places all beset, but all highways laid for some miles near unto him, that none shall pass but they shall be examined! Then are these searchers ofttimes so rude and barbarous that, if the doors be not opened in the instant when they would enter, they break open the doors with all violence, as if they were to sack a town of enemies won by the sword, which is a strange proceeding, and proper only to our persecuted state at this time, for it is not used elsewhere, but with us so common that no man can have assurance of one hour's quiet or safety within the walls of his own habitation, which yet in just and peaceable commonwealths should be his fortress and castle. Whereupon it seemed so strange to the Scottish gentlemen that came into England with His Majesty, that divers of them said—“If we in Scotland should be thus used, or that any should enter our house by force and against our will, we should presently have killed them.” If they said this for this forcible entry only, what may be said for their manner of proceeding being entered? Which I will therefore set down more in particular, that by this the reader may judge of our usage in other things.

[^284: The violent manner of searches.]

The searchers being thus entered, it hath been usual with pursuivants to run up the stairs and into the chambers with their drawn swords, enough to drive the weaker sort of women and children out of their wits. Then they begin to break off locks and open all the doors of the house presently, that they may at one time search in many places. Then if they find no Priest nor suspected persons for Priests in any of the chambers or closets, they go presently to search for secret places, and this they do most cunningly and strictly, sounding the floors and walls to see if they can find any hollow places. They do also measure the walls of the house and go round about the house on the outside to see if one part do answer to another, in hope to find some void part left hollow, wherein a man may be hid. Sometimes, if the walls be not made of stone, but of wainscot or other weak matter, they will thrust through it with their swords in many places, hoping that in some place or other they may light upon a Priest, and this they do also in the roof of the house, upon suspicion there may be some conveyance, though they cannot find the entry into it, as, indeed, the doors of the secret places are commonly made with such art as it is hard to find them or espy them, otherwise it were not possible to keep Priests so long as some Catholics do and have done. But the searchers, if they find any likely cause of suspicion, not contented with that dangerous manner of trial with their swords (in which cases some Priests have escaped very hardly of being wounded or slain), they then break down the walls wholly and enter themselves to search with candles and torches in all such dark places and in housetops, where sometimes nothing but mice or birds have come of many years. This we hope will be a means to prevent the diligent search of God's judgments wherein he saith—“Scrutabor Jerusalem in lucernis.”[^285] But if this be permitted by God's judgment to be done to His servants in this life, what shall be done to the doers of this in the next? “Si in viridi ligno hæc faciunt, in arido quid fiet?”[^286] “Incipit judicium (saith St. Peter) a domo Dei. Si autem primum a nobis, quis finis eorum qui non credunt Evangelio?”[^287] But to return unto our narration.

[^285: “I will search Jerusalem with lamps” (Soph. i. 12).]

[^286: “For if in the green wood they do these things, what shall be done in the dry?” (St. Luke xxiii. 31).]

[^287: “For the time is that judgment should begin at the house of God. And if first at us, what shall be the end of them that believe not the Gospel of God?” (1 St. Peter iv. 17).]

When the searchers find not any Priest for all this cruel diligence they have used, they will not yet give over, but supposing there is or may be some so secretly hidden that yet he is there for all that they have done, then they appoint a watch about the house and every part thereof of fifty or sixty men, and sometimes more, and these with guns and bills, &c.; and this they keep for many days together (intending to starve him out), sometimes for six, yea, ten and twelve days' continuance. Sometimes, also, they place watchmen in the chambers of the house within, both to keep that no Catholic shall stir to relieve the Priest (though commonly they make them sure for that by locking them up all in one part of the house together, which they mean least to search as being least suspected); and besides that they may hearken if any little stirring be behind a wall, yea, but the breathing or coughing of a Priest (which was the means indeed by which Fr. Cornelius before mentioned was found out and apprehended), to which end also they do sometimes cunningly speak aloud, one to another, that they will begone away because they can find nothing, and seem to make a noise as though they did depart; then will they go softly into the chambers a little after and seem to be of the house, and knock softly at every wall, willing the good man to come forth, for now the searchers are gone, thanks be to God. This subtlety is usual to these men—“Sed deficient scrutantes scrutinio et exaltabitur Dominus et sagittæ parvulorum sicut plagæ eorum.”[^288] And truly sometimes the protection of God is wonderful in these cases, that men do escape their hands, when by human means one would think it were wholly impossible, of which I have known many examples.

[^288: “They have searched after iniquities: they have failed in their search ... and God shall be exalted: the arrows of children are their wounds” (Psalm lxiii. 7, 8).]

But the searchers, in the meantime, when they can find no Priest, whom they chiefly desire to take in any man's house, because then his lands and goods and life also are all forfeited:—but if that will not be, then they rifle every little corner for church stuff, for copes and vestments, chalices, pixes, and such. For these they break open chests and trunks; then to cabinets and little boxes for letters, hoping to find some spiritual advice in them (though not to follow it, God knows), but thereby to infer that they are Priests' letters with whom they have acquaintance; or if they find any Agnus Deis, or beads or medals that they can prove are hallowed, then also all the lands and goods of the parties are seized and themselves condemned to perpetual prison, which was the case of Mr. Tregian, a worthy gentleman of great estate. Many examples of all these particulars might be alleged, but it were too long for the reader, and not safe for the parties of whom the stories must be told, especially if they be truly set down in such barbarous manner as they were performed, which is sometimes so uncivil that they will search the very beds where man and wife do lie at their first breaking into the house, when they come in the night, as in London, it is most commonly, yea, sometimes into the beds where women lie in childbed. Yea, they will not spare grave ancient matrons and women of great place. One ancient lady, lying in Holborn, in London, was in this sort so rudely handled by them that she fell sick upon it and lived not long after—a grave lady, and a woman of great virtue.

Briefly, their insolences are so many and so outrageous, and thereby the miseries and afflictions of Catholics were so much increased and multiplied, that it seemed to many very intolerable to be long endured. The only hope might be that which at those times Priests did labour to persuade, and divers of the graver Catholics were yet content to believe, might be possible (as in darkness, the least glimpse of light, though but far off, doth bring some comfort, in hope it may come nearer), and that was the memory of His Majesty's faithful promises, which, being given on the word of a Prince, they thought could not be violated, unless they should hear himself to speak the contrary. This only hope did yet live in some, though many apparent proofs to the contrary did continually weaken it. But this little spark of light also was soon after clean put out, no doubt by the industry and malicitious procurement of the Puritans, whose custom it is to incense the King against Catholics by some false information, and thereby to draw from His Majesty certain bitter speeches and invectives against Catholics, which then themselves are forward to publish, thereby to put Catholics the more in despair, and by despair into some cause giving of further afflictions, like him that will beat a child to make him cry, and then beat him because he crieth.

But first, that which did seem to extinguish wholly all hopes of help from His Majesty was, that whereas, in the beginning of the year 1605, it pleased him to call a conference between the Protestant Bishops and the chief of the Puritan side, in which conference or disputation the King, as head of the Church of England in ecclesiastical matters (which the Puritans acknowledge not), sat as chief moderator or judge in all things—though I say it was his pleasure to give unto the Puritans a day of hearing, yea, three days together full audience of all that they could say or allege for themselves and for their novelties and newly coined heretical inventions, yet would he not once admit the Catholics to be heard or any for them, notwithstanding their prescription and long-continued possession in their religion, and that they hold no other faith than that which was warranted from erring by Christ Himself, received from the seat of the Apostle St. Peter, commended for universal by St. Paul, planted in our own country with miracles, watered with the blood of acknowledged martyrs, strengthened with the authority of all the ancient Doctors, practised and delivered unto us by known and granted Saints, honoured and professed by all his ancestors, approved, commended, and commanded by all the ancient Parliaments and laws of the realm; notwithstanding all these and many other titles unto truth of doctrine which we can allege, prove, and convince to be on our side, and only to stand for us, yet we were put to silence, our mouth was shut, yea, and stopped also (at the instance of the Puritans), least we should be heard to cry that might not be suffered to speak. Which, that you may the better see to be most true, you shall understand that when His Majesty, having heard the Puritans at full, and knowing them to be a restless and imperious company if they should be approved in their opinions, and dangerous to his person and State (as he had often trial in Scotland) if they should be permitted to grow to greater strength—for this cause he and his Council thought it needful to define all matters in controversy between the Protestants and them wholly in every point against the Puritans, but then, being willing to give them satisfaction in some things, “Et nesciens quomodo aliter placeret eis, nisi in capitibus nostris,”[^289] he first, in the whole conference, uttered divers things that were very afflictive to Catholics, proceeding from the mouth of their King, whom they had so much honoured and in whom they had hoped. Then, drawing towards the end of the said conference, he urged the Bishops very much to a diligent inquiry and punishment of the said Catholics (which needed not, I wis, in respect of their known malice and vigilancy against them). At which time His Majesty said he observed and discovered three degrees of recusant Papists, as he called them; one that refused to go to the communion but not to the service or sermons, the other refused to go to communion or service but not to sermons, the third refused all three, in which distinction His Majesty did comprehend those also whom we count schismatics and well-wishers only, we esteeming, indeed, none for Catholics, nor admitting any unto the Sacraments of the Church, but those which refuse all communion with heretics in any of the three.

[^289: “For how can he otherwise appease his master, but with our heads?” (1 Kings xxix. 4).]

But all these kinds His Majesty said were carefully to be sought out and prosecuted, &c. And when the Chancellor there present, and ready to devise new afflictions unto Catholics for the satisfaction of the Puritans and his credit with the King, proposed for a greater and sharper galling of them, that ordinary processes de excommunicato capiendo might be exercised upon them, saying that no other punishment would vex them so much; for that by force of this they should be barred from making testaments; they should also be holden as outlaws and used accordingly; no man needed to pay them any debts, nor any tenant their rents, unless they list; and what injury soever they then receive, they can have no remedy. This huge and universal affliction the Chancellor had no scruple to entreat for us, and that he might have license to give out commandment for the same, and that all under officers might be punished that any way failed thereof. Whereunto, saith the book wherein all this conference is printed at large, His Majesty yielded and gave consent. By which one consent you may imagine how great a sea of molestations he did let forth upon the said Catholics, and no less also by his consent to the 104 Canons at that time set down and agreed on, all which were devised and planted by the said Bishops to beat and batter the said Catholics withal. By this it is easy to judge what cause all Catholics had by this time of extreme diffidence of help from thence where it was most expected. And that Catholics might know the better what to trust unto concerning all their former hopes conceived or promises received, the contrary was afterwards more plainly made known unto them by divers persons in authority, and that in serious and public manner, of which I will only allege two examples, by which you may guess at the rest; both which are published in print by themselves in a book intituled The late Commotion in Herefordshire, &c., printed by J. Charlton and F. Burton. One is that upon the 5th of August, in the year 1605, the then named Bishop of London, now of Canterbury, preaching at Paul's Cross, did utter a certain protestation of His Majesty, made, as he saith, before God and His Angels, that he was so constant and firm for the maintenance of the English religion which now he professed, as that he would not only spend his own dearest blood in defence thereof together with all his kingdoms if he had ten times so many as he hath; but moreover desired of God, that if He saw any of his children would be of other mind after him, He should take them away in his lifetime, that he might see them brought to their grave before him, to the end that their shame might be buried in his lifetime.

[^290] All which words of the King's related by the Bishop, the author of the book doth avow were spoken by His Majesty principally against Papists and their hope of toleration or mitigation of their pressures, which he saith to be a vain hope, &c. The other example is the Lord Chancellor his speech in the Star Chamber some days before this, to wit, Thursday, the 20th of June in the same year, where, speaking unto the Judges before they went their circuit, and to the Justices of Peace, gentlemen and others, that were to return into their countries after the Term ended and relate what they had heard in London, he delivered in vehement sort a large and sharp speech as from His Majesty's sense, words and commandment against all sorts of Catholics, but especially Priests, Jesuits, and recusants, and such as did acknowledge the authority of the Pope of Rome, ordaining and charging in His Majesty's name that all Judges in their circuits, all Justices of Peace in their districts, all gentlemen in their countries, and other people in the places where they should abide, should inquire after them, pursue and seek them out, that they might be punished, adding thereunto a certain new rigour of punishment not before in use, but designed now by His Majesty, as he said, to wit, that every Justice of Peace, though himself were no Papist, yet if he were thought to favour or tolerate Papists, or if his wife, children, or servants were Papists, they should lose their offices and be removed out of the Commission of Peace, as unfit members to hold that place (which could be for no other reason, but lest by some means or other some little favour might happen to some Catholic by their means, as a town that is very strictly besieged is commonly barred from all relief both by sea and land). Finally, he concluded with that in effect which the Bishop spake at Paul's Cross concerning the vain hopes of Catholics for any toleration or alleviation of their afflictions; hereunto adding a speech (saith the book) of His Majesty's concerning the folly of Papists, how they were besotted, yea and more than bewitched to suppose any such matter of toleration, wondering whereupon they should build their false hopes, adding also that His Majesty had vowed unto his Privy Council, that if he did know that any of his children after him would go back from this, he would lay his curse upon him.

[^290: The L. Chancellor, his speech in the Star Chamber.]

These and the like speeches do our chiefest enemies, the Puritans, use to draw from His Majesty, and afterwards cause to be divulged also to no small prejudice of the mutual love and goodwill, reverence, and respect, which ought to be between the Prince and his subjects, as between the father and his children: they being not ignorant what effect such speeches do work, and that any injury is more easily borne at a Prince's hand than contumely against a multitude.

Whereupon they have further procured that ordinarily when His Majesty cometh to dinner or supper, some one shall be ready to give occasion of hard speeches against the Catholics; and this is commonly the office of Mr. Mountague, dean of his chapel, who was in profession so earnest a Puritan that he would not wear the cap or surplice (which Protestants admit) before the King's coming for any persuasion; but since, in respect of the deanery in that place of credit, he is content to dispense with his conscience, though his mother, the Lady Mountague, have given him her curse for his labour, and saith she will not acknowledge him for her son in respect of that dissimulation, as she calleth it. But howsoever it be, his partners, the Puritans, make evil use of his place, being such as may so often and so easily have the King's ear, whereunto he is so ready, that, besides other tricks, he hath this now and then, to bring some Catholic book in his bosom, with the leaf turned into some place or other where the author doth speak any thing that may offend His Majesty, as, namely, of the Bishop of Rome, especially when it toucheth his spiritual authority over Princes; which His Majesty reading or hearing read, and growing thereby into heat of disputation, refutation, or reprehension, uttereth oftentimes words which these men and their adherents do no less odiously urge and divulge afterward, than craftily and maliciously they procured before. As for example, that His Majesty doth hold all Catholics that esteem of the Pope's authority for traitors, and especially recusants that will not in respect of their religion communicate with Protestants in their service and sacraments, and finally that none can hold all points of Catholic religion and be a true subject; with divers other such speeches which gall and grieve the hearts of Catholics above measure, all which are afterward avouched by the standers-by in His Majesty's name, by citing his authority for it. Whereof we could allege too many examples, which we pretermit, for that it is likely that His Majesty had not so grievous meaning therein against his Catholic subjects, as the words do sound or as by such seditious people is wont to be inferred or urged, the sooner to put men into despair.

[^291] And yet we must confess that one circumstance hath greatly increased the fear of all Catholics touching His Majesty's meaning in this most deeply touching point, which is, that his Attorney-General (a man not lightly esteemed in his profession of the common laws of our country) having made a book whereby he would fain prove Catholic recusants to be traitors, wresting and enforcing the common laws of the realm to that same purpose; and presenting the said book unto the King, it was not only gratefully received by His Majesty, but highly commended also, and the doctrine allowed, so far forth that the King affirmed the same by oath and said, “By my sall, I do hold them all for traitors indeed, and it is here very sufficiently and truly proved.” And this was spoken publicly at His Majesty's table, divers noblemen standing by, and some that were not ill-affected to Catholics and knew their minds and deserts unto His Majesty to be much contrary to this construction.

[^291: Sir Edward Coke, now L. Chief, in his 5th part of Reports.]

This therefore being known to Catholics, it is easy to be seen how first their hopes were turned into fears and then their fears into full knowledge that all the contrary to that they hoped was intended and prepared for them. It being well known that this book was made by the Attorney according to the direction of the Council, to prepare the mind of His Majesty and the other Peers of the realm against the ensuing Parliament then to make laws against Catholics of such nature and force as are fit and usual to be made against traitors; and therefore cunningly they caused it first to be delivered to His Majesty in public place, presuming that when the King had approved the book, and showed himself of the same opinion, no subject durst seem to think the contrary, and therefore that none would be slack in giving assent to any laws intended, how cruel soever. And this is thought to have been a great cause of hastening the impatience and temerity of those gentlemen who (as we find now by their examinations) about these times conspired to work their designment against the Parliament, as thinking by like, that sith they were condemned for traitors and to be used for such at the Parliament, they had no way to defend their life but by seeking to hinder the Parliament, and that also, by so doing, they should be no more esteemed traitors than they were already, nor their brethren neither, being all esteemed and condemned beforehand for such. So that if they failed of their purpose, they should not increase any evils to themselves or others; and if their desires took effect, then they should free both (which otherwise they thought impossible), besides the delivery of infinite souls from schism and heresy, from sin and damnation, which they all protested at their death was their principal intention.

But howsoever their intention was for the cause of their enterprise (which I leave to the judgment of God), sure we are the thing intended was most unfit, and a thing that I suppose hath brought more grief to the hearts of Catholics generally in England than ever anything did in all this time of their sufferings. But by this we may see how rash and temerarious attempts extremity doth sometimes suggest, and that the counsel was wise which Abner gave to Joab, when he did prosecute his victory with too great violence. “An ignoras,” saith he, “quod periculosa sit desperatio?”[^292] As if he should say, Art thou so skilful a captain and art ignorant that despair doth often drive those that fly to turn head again with new and redoubled forces? especially when the despair of escaping by flight is so great that they see rather increase of hope than of danger by fighting, which hope of theirs men will then seek to strengthen with their uttermost forces; whereof the event is often such as it turns the danger on the contrary side, of which kind many examples are daily seen. And that not only in men, that by natural reason are led to choose the less danger, but in the poorest and most fearful creatures also that be, which of their own natures are so timorous that they fly at the very sight of man, as we see in many silly beasts both in house and fields; yet when they are so pursued and pressed, as they are put in desperation of their life, they turn again and leap in a man's face itself. So that this course of giving too much cause of despair is holden dangerous by all wise men, and as such is carefully foreseen and prevented in most commonwealths. But our rulers had been so long acquainted with our patience, and made trial thereof by so many and so urging cruelties, that they thought themselves sure the Catholics would never attempt anything in their own defence that might offend the State, howsoever they were used. And surely so it had continued still, as it hath long done, if this enterprise had been in their power to prevent. But it was carried with that secrecy and with such manner of proceeding as it was not possible for others to hinder it, nor seemed probable that any did intend it; as now it will appear more plainly in the chapters following.

[^292: “Knowest thou not that it is dangerous to drive people to despair?” (2 Kings ii. 28).]

Chapter III. How Upon These And The Like Motives Divers Gentlemen Did Conspire And Conclude Upon Some Violent Remedy.

By that which hath been set down in the former chapter, every prudent man will easily conceive what was like to be the sense and feeling of all Catholics in this so great increase of their long-endured afflictions, in this utter despair of any help from His Majesty (in whose promised clemency all their hopes were placed), and in a certain expectation of other most cruel and newly-invented laws to be further imposed upon them at the next Parliament as against traitors not worthy to live in a commonwealth, and as such already published in books framed and printed by authority, and so censured and pronounced by the King himself. In what other state could they be but a general and most afflicting desolation, and as the Prophet Esay saith, “Omne caput languidum et omne cor mœrens”[^293] from the highest to the lowest.

[^293: “The whole head is sick and the whole heart is sad” (Isaias i. 5).]

But the cogitations of men, as they were all much afflicted in such an inundation of evils upon them without hope of ease or end, so yet no doubt they were very different according to the divers states of minds in plenty or penury of grace, and partly also according to their different natures and dispositions, some more able and apt than others to bear injuries with patience. We know right well, and all England will witness with us, that the greatest part by much did follow the example and exhortation of the Religious and Priests that were their guides, moving them and leading them by their own practice to make their refuge unto God in so great extremities, “Qui nunquam deserit sperantes in se;”[^294] “Nec patietur nos tentari supra id quod possumus, sed faciet cum tentatione proventum ut possimus sustinere.”[^295] “Immo modicum passos ipse proficiet, confirmabit, solidabitque.”[^296] This we found to be believed practically by most, and followed as faithfully, preparing themselves by more often frequentation of the Sacraments, by more fervent prayer, and by perfect resignation of their will to God, against the cloud that was like to cover them, and the shower that might be expected would pour down upon them after the Parliament, unto which all the chief Puritans of the land were called, and only they or their friends selected out of every shire to be the framers of the laws, which thereby we might easily know were chiefly intended and prepared against us. But in so great a multitude all are not so perfect, some few fainted in courage, and, as St. Cyprian noteth of his times, did offer themselves unto the persecutors before they felt the chief force of the blow that was to be expected.

[^294: “Who hath not forsaken them that hope in Him” (Judith xiii. 17).]

[^295: “Who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you are able, but will make also with temptation issue, that you may be able to bear it” (1 Cor. x. 13).]

[^296: “Who after you have suffered a little, will Himself perfect you and confirm you and establish you” (1 St. Peter v. 10).]

Others again (as since it hath appeared) were much different from these, and ran headlong into a contrary error. For being resolved never to yield or forsake their faith, they had not patience and longanimity to expect the Providence of God, “qui attingit a fine usque ad finem fortiter et disponit omnia suaviter.”[^297] They would not endure to see their brethren so trodden upon by every Puritan, so made a prey to every needy follower of the Court or servant to a Councillor, so presented and pursued by every churchwarden and minister, so hauled to every sessions when the Justices list to meet, so wronged on every side by the process of excommunication or outlawry, and forced to seek for their own by law, and then also to be denied law, because they were Papists; finally both themselves and all others to be denounced traitors, and designed to the slaughter. These things they would not endure now to begin afresh after so long endurance, and therefore began amongst themselves to consult what remedy they might apply to all these evils (and few greater than these by the daily destruction of innumerable souls, as they alleged at their death), so that it seems they did not so much respect what the remedy were, or how it might be procured, as that it might be sure and speedy, to wit, to take effect before the end of the Parliament from whence they seemed to expect their greatest harm.

[^297: “She reacheth from end to end mightily and ordereth all things sweetly” (Wisd. viii. 1).]

And this I do guess to have been the likeliest motive, to make that stratagem of the Parliament House to come into their head, unless perhaps they did think it was impossible for them to prevail any other way. Now peace being concluded by other Princes, they could not expect any sufficient aid from them. And they saw that other Princes were willing with the peace in regard of their own affairs (which might be cause sufficient), although there the peace of Catholics was not included; yea presently upon the concluding of that, they saw and felt that the persecution began afresh and in far worse manner than before (as in the precedent chapters hath been related), yet they found that their case would not be understood in many Princes' Courts, but rather the Ambassadors and other instruments employed by their persecutors believed, than their case credited when it was laid down by witnesses of unstained integrity. And seeing for these causes no hope of help from others, they knew well that of themselves by open rising in field they were not able to resist and repel the force of the whole State, both because all Catholics would not join in those courses, and because both Protestants and Puritans would then join together against them; therefore this public course being not probable to take effect, it is like they fell to search out what private way might be within their power and yet might be effectual. And then, as it seems by their confessions (made after to the Council), Mr. Catesby proposed that fatal and final course of overthrowing the Parliament House, alleging for his reason that which before I gathered to be his mind out of his own words: that so, said he, we may deliver our country from the servitude she is in, and at one instant deliver us from all our bonds, and although we can have no foreign help, yet so may we plant again the Catholic religion in our country. Thus you may see how good desires may be followed by unfit means, and how much a man may be deceived when he doth follow but his own ways, how good or great soever the motives be or the wished effect of that he goeth about, for “non est faciendum malum ut inde eveniat bonum.”[^298]

[^298: “We must not do evil that good may come.”]

And when one of his companions, called Mr. Winter, proposed that the matter was so great and imported so many that it would be well considered of, Mr. Catesby answered, “The nature of the disease was such that it required so sharp a remedy, and that the Parliament was the place where all the laws had been made against Catholics, and therefore the fittest for the makers of those laws there to receive their punishment, especially there being then chosen all the Puritans of the realm, of purpose to make much more cruel laws than before; so that at one blow they should cut off all the greatest enemies of God's Church, and the greatest persecutors both of their souls and bodies, which they could not do by any other possible means; and not doing that, they would never prevail nor save the whole country from destruction of their souls, nor their brethren and themselves from slaughter of their bodies.” Thus he. This, therefore, seeming probable and pious to their deceived judgments, they fell upon that conclusion, that they would prepare for it as soon as they could, but in such secret manner that no living creature for no cause should understand of their designments but themselves that then consulted, who were but five in number, and they would take an oath of secrecy upon a Primer to that effect. Only some months after, when they found some more help was needful for them, they concluded that three of the five, whereof Mr. Catesby and another of the chiefest to be two, might impart it to some other chosen person to draw him into the action. So great care they had, that it might not be so much as suspected by other Catholics, and especially they meant to keep it from their ghostly Fathers and all kind of Religious men or Priests, knowing well they should never have their assent to an action of that nature. And besides, for that they had no doubt at that time or any scruple in the matter for the causes before alleged, gathered out of Mr. Catesby his words, though afterwards when the matter depended much longer than they expected, upon some occasion or other that belike was offered, they began to doubt of one circumstance, and then sought resolution, but in such cunning and close manner, as shall afterwards appear in the process of the story. And thirdly, for that they feared their ghostly Fathers would assuredly draw them out of that course if they should have understanding of it, which to be a principal cause of their keeping the matter so secret from them, may appear by the speeches which Sir Everard Digby used afterwards at the time of his arraignment.

The five that concluded first upon this preposterous Plot of Powder were these, Mr. Robert Catesby, Mr. Thomas Percy, Mr. Thomas Winter, Mr. John Wright, and Mr. Guy Fawks, as appeareth by the confession of the said Mr. Thomas Winter: ¶[^299] out of whose examinations with the others that were made in the time of their imprisonment, I must gather and set down all that is to be said or collected of their purposes and proceedings in this heady enterprise. For that as I have said, they kept it so wholly secret from all men, that until their flight and apprehension it was not known to any that such a matter was in hand, and then there could none have access unto them to learn the particulars. But we must be contented with that which some of those that lived to be examined, did therein deliver. Only for that some of their servants that were up in arms with them in the country did afterwards escape, somewhat might be learned by them of their carriage in their last extremities, and some such words as they then uttered, whereby their mind in the whole matter is something the more opened, and all as I have heard then I will faithfully relate.

[^299: Where this kind of mark ¶ is found, my meaning is to have a new line begin. Orig. in marg.]

But first that these first conspirators may be the better known, together with the matter and manner of their conspiracy, it shall be good to let you see in particular what the persons were.

Mr. Catesby (who as it seems by many circumstances was the first inventor and the chiefest furtherer of the Plot) was a gentleman of an ancient and great family in England, whose chief estate and dwelling was in Warwickshire, though his ancestors had much living in other shires also. Some of his ancestors had borne great sway in England. But commonly the greatest men are not the best. Some others have been of great esteem for virtue, as namely one knight of his house (I take it some four or five descents ago) was commonly known and called in all the country, “good Sir William Catesby,” of whom this memorable thing is recorded; that when he had lived long in the fear of God and works of charity, one time as he was walking in the fields, his good Angel appeared and showed him the anatomy of a dead man and willed him to prepare him, for he should die by such a time. The good knight presently accepting of the message willingly, recommended himself with a fervent prayer unto our Blessed Lady in that place and then went home and settled all his business both towards God and the world, and died at his time appointed. This story is painted upon a wall in the church of Ashby, where that knight and other of Mr. Catesby's ancestors lie buried. Myself have both seen the pictures and read the prayer in that place.

Mr. Catesby his estate in his father's time was great, above 3,000l. a year, which now were worth much more; but Sir William Catesby, his father, being a Catholic and often in prison for his faith, suffered many losses and much impaired his estate. This son of his when he came to the living was very wild, and as he kept company with the best noblemen of the land, so he spent much above his rate and so wasted also good part of his living. Some four or five years before Queen Elizabeth died, he was reclaimed from his wild courses and became a Catholic, unto which he had always been inclined in opinion, though not in practice. But after this time he left his swearing and excess of play and apparel and all wild company and began to use daily practices of religion instead of them, insomuch that his former companions did marvel to see him so changed; for he concealed his being a Catholic a long time. After that, about three years before the Queen's death, when the Earl of Essex did intend and attempt by force to put down some of those that ruled the State and meant (as it is thought) to have brought in His Majesty that now is into the realm at that time, and to that end combined many noblemen and gentlemen together in the enterprise, then was Mr. Catesby a principal man in the action, having first received a faithful promise from the Earl of toleration at least for all Catholics: yea and to that end he procured some other Catholics to join also.

In that business, though it was weakly performed by those that had the chief carriage, especially that Earl of Essex, yet did Mr. Catesby show such valour and fought so long and stoutly, as divers afterwards of those swordsmen did exceedingly esteem him and follow him in regard thereof, and only commended Sir Christopher Blunt and him, both which were often compared together, as well for their performance, as for the hurts they received; though Mr. Catesby kept his very secret in prison, being in hope to escape with a ransom, as he did, paying 2,000l., but it cost him 3,000l. before he got out. All which I therefore relate, as a chief means of his getting aid and followers in the other enterprise following, in which although he and his complices did us as great a wrong as might be, and took themselves a most wrong course in their deceived zeal; yet I will not wrong them with false reports in anything, nor wrong the reader so much, as not to let him plainly know what kind of men they were, and to that end do relate both their good and their evil.

When Mr. Catesby was cured of his hurts and had paid his ransom and procured his liberty, he was so much esteemed and respected in all companies of such as are counted there swordsmen or men of action, that few were in the opinions of most men preferred before him, and he increased much his acquaintance and friends. Upon which occasion he then began to labour to win many to the Catholic faith, which he performed, and brought many to be Catholics of the better sort, and was a continual means of helping others to often frequentation of the Sacraments, to which end he kept and maintained Priests in several places. And for himself he duly received the Blessed Sacrament every Sunday and Festival-day, and grew to such a composition of manners and carriage, to such a care in his speech (that it might never be hurtful to others, but taking all occasions of doing good), to such a zealous course of life, both for the cause in general and every particular person whom he could help in God's service, as that he grew to be very much respected by most of the better and graver sort of Catholics, and of Priests, and Religious also, whom he did much satisfy in the care of his conscience; so that it might plainly appear he had the fear of God joined with an earnest desire to serve Him. And so no marvel though many Priests did know him and were often in his company. He was moreover very wise and of great judgment, though his utterance not so good. Besides he was so liberal and apt to help all sorts, as it got him much love. He was of person above two yards high and, though slender, yet as well proportioned to his height as any man one should see. His age (I take it) at his death was about thirty-five, or thereabouts. And to do him right, if he had not fallen into this foul action and followed his own judgment in it (to the hurt and scandal of many), asking no advice but of his own reasons deceived and blinded under the shadow of zeal; if, I say, it had not been for this, he had truly been a man worthy to be highly esteemed and prized in any commonwealth.

Mr. Thomas Percy was of the name and kindred of one of the ancientest and greatest Earls in England, though I think he was not very near in blood, although they called him cousin. His estate was not great, depending most upon the same Earl that now is of the house of Percies, under whom he had the keeping of a castle and the receiving of his rents, with the overlooking and command of his tenants in those parts. For the most part of his youth he had been very wild more than ordinary, and much given to fighting, so much that it was noted in him and in Mr. John Wright (whose sister he afterwards married) that if they had heard of any man in the country to be esteemed more valiant and resolute than others, one or the other of them would surely have picked some quarrel against him and fought with him to have made trial of his valour. This Mr. Percy was for most of his time affected to Catholics and a friend unto them, and did labour and was the means to get some out of prison; but himself far from professing the same, or following their counsel or example, until within five or six years before his death, and I think about the time of my Lord of Essex his enterprise he became Catholic; for he was also one in the action and a very forward man, hoping that some ease at least would have come to Catholics by the means. After that he was much more reclaimed, and grew in time, by keeping Catholics' company, and often frequentation of the Sacraments, to leave all his old customs, and to live a very staid and sober life, and for a year or two before his death kept a Priest continually in the country to do good unto his family and neighbours, though himself came thither but at times, living for the most part in London, where he was made one of the Gentlemen Pensioners in Ordinary, and so continued till his death. He had a great wit and a very good delivery of his mind, and so was able to speak as well as most in the things wherein he had experience. He was tall, and of a very comely face and fashion; of age near fifty, as I take it, for his head and beard was much changed white.

Mr. Thomas Winter was a younger brother of the house of Huddington, in the county of Worcester, whose eldest brother and another younger than himself were also brought after into the action by his means. This gentleman had spent his youth well as it seemed by the parts he had, for he was a reasonable good scholar, and able to talk in many matters of learning, but especially in philosophy or histories very well and judicially. He could speak both Latin, Italian, Spanish, and French. He had been a soldier both in Flanders, France, and, I think, against the Turk, and could discourse exceeding well of those matters. And was of such a wit, and so fine carriage, that he was of so pleasing conversation, desired much of the better sort, but an inseparable friend to Mr. Robert Catesby. He was of mean stature, but strong and comely and very valiant, about thirty-three years old or somewhat more. His means were not great, but he lived in good sort, and with the best. He was very devout and zealous in his faith, and careful to come often to the Sacraments, and of very grave and discreet carriage, offensive to no man, and fit for any employment. I wish therefore he had been employed in some better business.

Mr. John Wright was a gentleman of Yorkshire, not born to any great fortune, but lived always in place and company of the better sort. In his youth and for the most of his time very wild and disposed to fighting and trial of his manhood, as I touched before. He became Catholic about the time of my Lord of Essex his attempt, in which he was; and after that time kept much with Mr. Catesby and some other gentlemen of his friends and acquaintance. He grew to be staid and of good sober carriage after he was Catholic, and kept house in Lincolnshire, where he had Priests come often, both for his spiritual comfort and their own in corporal helps. He was about forty years old, a strong and a stout man, and of a very good wit, though slow of speech; much loved by Mr. Catesby for his valour and secrecy in carriage of any business, which, I suppose, was the cause why he was one of the first acquainted with this unfortunate enterprise.

Mr. Guido Faulks spent most of his time in the wars of Flanders, which is the cause that he was less known here in England, but those that have known him do affirm that as he did bear office in the camp under the English coronell on the Catholic side, so he was a man every way deserving it whilst he stayed there, both for devotion more than is ordinarily found in soldiers, and especially for his skill in martial affairs and great valour, for which he was there much esteemed. And that was the cause, as it may be thought, why Mr. Catesby and the rest of the conspirators cast their eyes upon him before others, when they desired one out of Flanders to be their assistant.

But would to God these gentlemen had used their talents better and employed them to the service of God and their country, for which they were given, and not to the offence of the one and destruction of the other, as we find now to our great increase of grief amidst the rest of our many calamities and heavy burthen of persecution, of which the memory of this matter is not the least. Undoubtedly they were men of able parts to perform much in God's service, and so it is like they would have continued as they had begun if they would have feared sufficiently their own fancies, and followed the grave example and advice of those from whom they sought for help in all other matters that concerned their soul. And yet at length they began to doubt in some points of this also, as shall appear in the chapter following.

Chapter IV. How After They Had Begun Their Enterprise, They Fell Into Some Scruple, And Went About To Satisfy Their Conscience By Asking Questions Afar Off, Of Learned Men, Without Opening The Case.

It appeareth by the confession which Mr. Thomas Winter made unto the Lords of the Council, being published in print by order from the said Council, that these gentlemen having concluded upon this course of violent remedy (because they resolved to undertake it as their last refuge and remedy of all the evils they sought to prevent), Mr. Catesby, who first proposed this fatal blow to be given to the Parliament House, did also first propose unto them the last trial which he thought likely to prevail for redress of those evils by quiet means; and to use his own words, there related by Mr. Winter, “First (said he to Mr. Thomas Winter) because we will leave no peaceable and quiet way untried, you shall go over and inform the Constable (who was then upon his coming in) of the state of the Catholics here in England, entreating him to solicit His Majesty at his coming hither, that the Penal Laws may be recalled, and we admitted into the rank of his other subjects.” Mr. Winter went over and delivered his message unto the Constable as in the name of all the Catholics of England, whose answer was, that he had strict command from His Majesty of Spain to do all good offices for the Catholics; and for his own part, he thought himself bound in conscience so to do, and that no good occasion should be omitted. Thus much the Constable promised at that time, and no doubt performed it both wisely and charitably in what he could. But it is an easy matter to satisfy with hopes of future favours, when he that receives the promises shall not be present to see the performance.

So soon as the peace was concluded, and the Constable [of Spain] departed, the stream of persecution began to run more violently than before. Searches were more frequent, the seizure of goods more ordinary and violent, the payment of 20l. a month with the arrearages also were enacted, and (which terrified most) the Puritans, who were the chief men selected and summoned for the Parliament, were so full of their designments against Catholics, that they could not choose but [cast out great threats][^300] against them in every place where they came; some affirming they would now set up their rest and have their will of Catholics; some that they would leave no Catholics in England after a while; others that they hoped to see them all hanged ere it were long. Yea, I know a town myself whither some Puritans came to seize some goods of Catholics long before the Parliament, where the party whose goods were taken, complaining of the rigour in the manner of proceeding, the officers answered, “They hoped to see all the Catholics' throats cut shortly, therefore this was nothing.” Things therefore standing in these terms with Catholics, these gentlemen resolved to expect no further trials, but, as I said, concluded upon their intended stratagem, bound each other by oath to the highest degree of secrecy, and so it seems they went about their business, never fearing any fault in the thing itself, nor fall that might come to Catholics by their error; and thus it continued for a good space with them.

[^300: “Eructare verbum malum.” Orig.]

They hired a house by the water side (as may appear in Mr. Winter's confession) where they might first land their powder when they had bought it, and from whence they might easily transport it by boat also unto the place appointed, which was a house close by the Parliament House, hired by Mr. Thomas Percy, as a fit residence for himself near the Court, being Pensioner, and to wait daily in his quarters. And Mr. Faulks went as his man to keep the house. In this house, to prevent occasions of often going out, because they would not seem to be many in the house, they bought baked meats and made provision at once for a long time. They began to work underground at such times as they could least be heard, and wrought the mine until they came to the wall of the Parliament House, which finding to be hard stone, they were long about a little progress, and were to be more wary than before in respect of the noise. Whilst they were thus together, and proceeding daily as they might, they had leisure, saith Mr. Winter, to fashion all their business, and to discourse of all things that were to be done in the matter, whereby it may seem their first resolution of the thing itself was sudden, and such as young heads and forward minds do often bring forth, without due consideration of circumstances and likely events, which would not have been if they had asked counsel in the cause; but rather, if the matter had been of that quality that it had been fit to have proceeded in it (as this was most unfit of all others), then would all the circumstance of importance have been foreseen beforehand, and all likely events forecast, and according to them the resolution left off or undertaken. But these gentlemen, as it seems then, with that leisure and opportunity of being so much in private together, began to fashion their business, after they had begun the enterprise. Then they began to think how they should get into their hands the next heir, whom they might set up and strengthen against the meaner sort of Puritans that would be left; so that his authority being used in his nonage, the Catholic religion might be erected, and he so brought up, as that he would at his full years be a patron of the same. And Mr. Percy undertook that charge, being one that might best be seen in the Court, in regard of his place. Then they discoursed what foreign Princes they should acquaint with the business, in respect of their help after against the heretics, if they did stand out long. And they resolved to acquaint none; first, because they could not oblige them by oath to secrecy, so as they might be sufficiently assured thereof, which they esteemed the most necessary point of all others, and the strength of the whole business; secondly, for that it seemed they were doubtful the matter would be misliked by other Princes, as indeed they had cause to think it, not likely only, but certain; and so no doubt they would have found it, if it had been imparted to any, especially if the least notice had come unto His Holiness, who had ever showed a special care of our King, and had great hope that in time he would do well both for himself and his country. Then also they began to think what Lords they should save out of the Parliament. And first they resolved they would save as many as they could. Then they descended more into particulars, to consider whom they might draw out of the danger, without danger of discovering unto them the cause why, or so that they might have the least suspicion of the matter intended.

And here, belike, finding it would be very hard to save so many as they desired, and yet withal to save the secrecy of their enterprise (in which consisted the safety of themselves and of the cause), here it is very likely they began to have that scruple in which afterwards they sought to satisfy their conscience, but not in right and plain matter as they should, by explaining the case of which they demanded, but afar off, as a thing by chance coming into their mind, and concerning rather a point of warlike affairs in general, than any particular intention of theirs at that time to be put in practice. For whilst they were in the middle of their discourses (saith Mr. Winter), understanding that the Parliament should be anew adjourned, they left off their work for that time, and went to keep Christmas in several places, which was always their custom, to avoid suspicion. Then the chiefest of them took the present commodity offered by meeting with learned Priests that holy time, and meant to inform themselves of such doubts as were risen concerning the lawfulness of the business they had in hand. And, having a great opinion both of the learning and virtue of the Fathers of the Society, Mr. Catesby desired to get, by cunning means, the judgment of their Superior, so as he should never perceive to what end the question were asked. Therefore coming to Father Garnett, after much ordinary talk, and some time passed over after his arrival, one time he took occasion (upon some speech proposed about the wars in the Low Countries or such like) to ask how far it might be lawful for the party that hath the just quarrel to proceed in sacking or destroying a town of the enemy's or fortress when it is holden against them by strong hands. The Father answered that in a just war it was lawful for those that had right to wage battle against the enemies of their commonwealth, to authorize their captains or soldiers, as their officers, to annoy or destroy any town that is unjustly holden against them, and that such is the common doctrine of all Divines: in respect that every commonwealth must by the Law of Nature be sufficient for itself, and therefore as well able to repel injuries as to provide necessaries; and that, as a private person may vim vi repellere, so may the commonwealth do the like with so much more right as the whole is of more importance than a part; which, if it were not true, it should follow that Nature had provided better for beasts than for men, furnishing them with natural weapons as well to offend as to defend themselves, which we see also they have a natural instinct to use, when the offence of the invader is necessary for their own defence. And therefore that it is not fit to think that God, Who by natural reason, doth provide in a more universal and more noble manner for men than by natural instinct for beasts, hath left any particular person, and much less a commonwealth, without sufficient means to defend and conserve itself; and therefore not without power to provide and use likely means to repel present injuries, and to repress known and hurtful enemies. And that, in all these, the head of the commonwealth may judge what is expedient and needful for the body thereof. Unto which Mr. Catesby answering that all this seemed to be plain in common reason, and the same also practised by all well-governed commonwealths that ever have been, were they never so pious or devout. But, said he, some put the greatest difficulty in the sackage of towns and overthrowing or drowning up of forts, which, in the Low Countries, and in all wars is endeavoured, when the fort cannot otherwise be surprised, and the same of great importance to be taken. How then those who have right to make the war may justify that destruction of the town or fort, wherein there be many innocents and young children, and some perhaps unchristened, which must needs perish withal? Unto this the Father answered, that indeed therein was the greatest difficulty; and that it was a thing could never be lawful in itself, to kill an innocent, for that the reason ceaseth in them for which the pain of death may be inflicted by authority, seeing the cause why a malefactor and enemy to the commonwealth may be put to death is in respect of the common good, which is to be preferred before his private (for otherwise, considering the thing only in itself, it were not lawful to put any man to death); and so because the malefactor doth in re gravi hinder the common good, therefore by the authority of the magistrate that impediment may be removed. But now, as for the innocent and good, their life is a help and furtherance to the common good, and therefore in no sort it can be lawful to kill or destroy an innocent. But, said Mr. Catesby, that is done ordinarily in the destruction of these forts I spake of. It is true, said the Father, it is there permitted, because it cannot be avoided; but is done as per accidens, and not as a thing intended by or for itself, and so it is not unlawful. As if we were shot into the arm with a poisoned bullet, so that we could not escape with life unless we cut off our arm; then per accidens we cut off our hand and fingers also which were sound, and yet being, at that time of danger, inseparably joined to the arm, lawful to be cut off, which it were not lawful otherwise to do without mortal sin. And such was the case of the town of Gabaa, and the other towns of the tribe of Benjamin, wherein many were destroyed that had not offended. With which Mr. Catesby seeming fully satisfied, brake presently into other talk, the Father at that time little imagining whereat he aimed, though afterwards, when the matter was known, he told some friends what had passed between by Mr. Catesby and him about this matter, and that he little suspected then he would so have applied the general doctrine of Divines to the practice of a private and so perilous a case, without expressing all particulars, which course may give occasion of great errors, as we see it did in this.

Now Mr. Catesby having found as much as he thought was needful for his purpose, related the same unto the rest of the conspirators, and all were animated in their proceedings without any further scruple for a long time, but applied all by their own divinity unto their own case, persuading themselves belike, that they had all the conditions of a lawful war with the Puritans and Protestant parties. First, a just cause, in defence of their goods, lives, and liberty, both of themselves and their brethren, and especially for the delivery and safety of so many thousand souls inthralled by sin and heresy; secondly, they thought they found in themselves a right intention to suppress evil and erect and strengthen that which was good and needful; thirdly, about authority to commence the same, I suppose they had most difficulty, and do not see how they could satisfy their own reason (much less the rules that are required in schools) in that behalf, seeing they did know so well, and had been so often told by the said Father Garnett and others of their spiritual guides, that His Holiness had given strict charge there should be nothing attempted against His Majesty [and the State], but that all Catholics should seek in patience to possess their souls, and thereby, and not by force, to plead for favour. I know not therefore from what ground they could imagine themselves to have authority, although in a far less matter. For it is not likely that they should think of the opinion of some that hold “quod defensio manualis cum sit de Jure Naturali non potest auferri per Superiorem vel contrarium præcipi.”[^301] And besides, that is to be understood in ipso conflictu, and not longe ante, as in this case of the Parliament.

[^301: “That, as the right of hand to hand defence is of the Natural Law, the Superior cannot take it away, or enjoin the contrary.”]

But it is an easy matter for an earnest desire to draw a man's opinion after it, and so their great and unadvised zeal to remedy the wrongs done to Catholics both in soul and body, might perhaps make them think that this opportunity of the Parliament being omitted, they should never again have power or opportunity to defend the Catholic party. And that there was not sufficient access to inform Superiors of the case of Catholics, neither that their extremities were believed, and that if they were truly known, they neither would nor could be tolerated when remedy might be applied, in which they thought themselves as it were the officers and hands of the commonwealth, in whose hands and power it was then to perform it as they thought, but would not be so if they should ask counsel or leave of others, because so great a secret could not be kept in the mouths of many, and those not in like manner or measure affected to the business. Thus we may see how oftentimes it happens that a greedy affection and desire of the prey doth not let the bird consider or see the danger of the net which hangeth between the prey and it. And so as it is in too earnest pursuit of riches, that “qui volunt divites fieri incidunt in tentationem et in laqueum diaboli,”[^302] so in this case, their vehement desire of their prefixed end, did make them oversee a number of inconveniences and perils both of soul and body, that did hang upon this lamentable enterprise, which they did afterwards find, and as I hope repented: and others for their fault have felt more at leisure since this matter happened.

[^302: “For they that will become rich, fall into temptation, and into the snare of the devil” (1 Tim. vi. 9).]

But we that be innocent in the case, and were no ways accessary to the cause giving, must not repine at God's judgments, if He suffer us to be beaten for the error by others committed: Et si in vincula conjiciamur quasi mala operantes et ante reges et præsides ducamur quasi non existentes amici Cæsaris,[^303] yet we must be comforted in the testimony of our own conscience, that we do hate all treason against our Prince as much as those that punish us for traitors, and would no ways have joined in this if we had known it, but our earnest endeavours against it should have given sufficient testimony of a contrary mind in us, as may and will appear in the chapter following was done by Father Garnett when he began to fear they had something in hand, although he could never guess or suspect so strange a practice as they were then in plotting or rather in perfecting to be performed.

[^303: “Though we be cast into bonds as evil doers, and be brought before Kings and rulers as not being Cæsar's friends.”]

Chapter V. How Father Garnett Beginning To Suspect Somewhat By Certain Generalities He Understood Of The Gentlemen, Wrote Divers Letters To Rome For Prevention Of Rebellion.

When Mr. Catesby had thus satisfied his particular doubts out of this general doctrine, both he and his company went forward in their former purposes and after Christmas met again and began to labour afresh in the mine, to work through the wall of the Parliament House which they found to be difficult and long in doing. Whereupon by mutual consent they took in another assistant who was Mr. Christopher Wright, younger brother to John Wright before described in the third chapter, by whom also this other may be known without new description. For though he were not like him in face, as being fatter and a lighter coloured hair and taller of person, yet was he very like to the other in conditions and qualities, and both esteemed and tried to be as stout a man as England had and withal a zealous Catholic and trusty and secret in any business as could be wished: in respect whereof they esteemed him very fit to be of their company and so caused him to take the oath of secrecy and he received the Blessed Sacrament thereupon (as they had also done) and so admitted him. Not long after they admitted also another, which was Mr. Robert Winter, the eldest brother to Thomas Winter before spoken of.

This Robert Winter was a gentleman of good estate in Worcestershire, about one thousand marks a year, and had matched with the daughter of Mr. John Talbot, an ancient Catholic and one of the greatest men in the whole shire for blood, for living, and for power. Mr. Robert Winter was also an earnest Catholic, though not as yet generally known to be so. He was a wise man and of grave and sober carriage and very stout, as all of that name have been esteemed. This gentleman then with like ceremonies and obligation to secrecy was joined to their number and made them up seven; who all laboured hard in the mine to get through the foundation of the house, which was a hard stone wall of three yards thick. And so they continued working until near Easter, at which time finding that a cellar under the side of their house (which was until that time in the possession of others) was then to be let for rent, Mr. Percy presently took the same, as if it were to lay in fuel for his house and they found it so commodious for their purpose, that they left off their other laborious work in the mine; and in the cellar placed all their powder and covered the same with billets, in such sort as it could not be suspected: intending to store it better with powder and other necessaries nearer to the time of the Parliament which then was adjourned.

In the meantime Father Garnett understanding by some friends that Mr. Catesby was much missing from the places where he was wont continually to resort for spiritual helps; and hearing also, that he and other gentlemen of his forward humour did keep much together and had many secret meetings, he began to suspect they had something in hand that might tend to some commotion and that they did labour to get adherents for some attempt to be performed in forcible manner. Whereupon he wrote presently to his Superiors at Rome, that by their means there might be procured from His Holiness a prohibition to be sent unto Catholics from attempting anything by way of force, and of this kind he wrote divers letters which myself have seen since that time. And having had good commodity to see the copies of them lately in a place where they are safely kept, I will set down his own words written in several letters, that the reader may see his wise and quiet proceeding and the mild spirit of the man, much different from the calumnious reports his enemies have given of him concerning this action and directly contrary to the turbulent spirit of those that have been professed teachers of heresy both in those and other countries.

And first he wrote one letter to his Superiors in the year 1604, dated on the 29 of August, whilst the peace was yet in treaty and some hope yet living in Catholics that their peace would also be included, in which he hath these words (showing how difficult a matter it was for Catholics to be heard in their own cause even by some of those that were to plead for them). “Some,” saith he, “are so jealous of their peace that whosoever dealt earnestly with them to further religion, they sticked not to say that they were seditious and statesmen. ‘Nunquid pax est perniciosa religioni?’[^304] said one of them. But no wise men misliked the peace and we hope for good of religion, which Catholics do patiently expect.” These are his words: and truly if all that had to do in the matter had dealt as effectually for us in that kind as the Constable did in the small time of his stay there, perhaps things might have gone better with us than they did; but as he received promises which were not performed after his departure; so others were with like policy made believe that things did not go so hard with us as indeed we felt them: although it be true that the hardest of all began after the peace was fully concluded. In the same letter of Father Garnett's one may see also what difficulty he had on the other side with some Catholics to keep them quiet if some mitigation should not be obtained for them after so long expectance, wherein he meant belike Mr. Catesby and some such whom he most feared, about which he wrote these words following in cypher: “If the affair of toleration go not well, Catholics will no more be quiet. What shall we do? Jesuits cannot hinder it. Let Pope forbid all Catholics to stir.” These are his words, which sufficiently declare both his desires and endeavours to further peace and to hinder the contrary.

[^304: ‘Can peace be hurtful to religion?’]

About a month after he wrote another letter in answer of one he had received from his Superiors not long before (as I perceive by the party that hath the keeping of these letters), wherein they did require to be informed whether himself or any of the Society in England were against the peace, or did favour or further unquiet proceedings in any respect; for that such an information had been sent to Padua out of England, but not known by whom, unto which he answered as followeth: “That which was written to Padua, that the King is much moved against Catholics through the fervour of some Jesuits, is known to be false here by all, as well enemies as friends. For they were the setters on of the suit for peace, and the Agent always used their counsel, and without their credit and friends he had never gone so forward. Besides, an Earl of great account commended publicly the Jesuits in the Parliament House, as persons wise, learned, and of sincere conscience, and great setters forwards of peace. In Watson's business it is well known how many had been entangled, and what danger would have followed if they had not hindered. For although they cannot hinder what every tumultuous head intendeth, yet can they carry with them to peaceable courses the best and most Catholics. Finally, our enemies see our courses and stick not to say that we flatter the Council, whose good opinion we have gotten. Thus humbly saluting yourself and all our friends, I cease this 21 of September.” Thus the good Father, in whose words we may see how, with truth and sincere dealing, he was able, and had need to defend himself and his Company from virulent surmises and false informations on both sides; some informing they did bend to the one extremity, and some thinking they did lean unto the other; but virtue is in the mean, in which path both he and his did walk.

And as for that matter of Watson's, thus much I can say upon my knowledge, that when the Plot was revealed unto Father Gerard to have his counsel and furtherance therein, he first refused absolutely to meddle in the matter, and wished the other party to desist himself and to dissuade others from it, as a thing absolutely unlawful and many ways hurtful. Then presently, for better prevention thereof, he sent to London of purpose, both to inform his own Superior, Father Garnett, and the Archpriest, Mr. Blackwell, wishing they would presently forbid all their acquaintance from entering into the cause, and to stay it what they could; by which course he thought he had done sufficient to hinder the proceeding of the matter, not knowing then that any others were interested therein but those few Catholics from whom and of whom he had heard it. But afterwards, understanding again that the intention did go on, and that they were to be at London at Midsummer to effect their intent (which was to apprehend the King's person as he should be hunting in a park); and seeing that Midsummer was then at hand, and the time so short, that he feared much no warning to the parties themselves would be sufficient to stay them, he then, to be more sure of the safety of His Majesty's person, made known the whole intention unto one of His Majesty's servants, a Scottish gentleman and a Catholic, and as such well known unto His Majesty, who presently made haste unto the Court to open the matter unto the King himself; but found it was known the day before he came, and so spake nothing of it, being not then needful, nor he willing without cause to be acknowen of his acquaintance with Father Gerard: for which cause also I do here suppress his name; but if occasion were, I doubt not but he would be willing to bear witness with what care and fidelity the said Father Gerard did seek to prevent the danger to His Majesty. All which having heard from Father Gerard himself upon his protestation to be true in every point as I have here related, I do the rather set it down, because he was one of the three afterwards most wrongfully accused of this other much greater and more pernicious conspiracy, whereof he had not so much as the least knowledge, as will afterwards more plainly appear.

But to return to the letters of Father Garnett. When once he began to suspect that the gentlemen aforesaid had something in their heads, and perceived by divers words and signs, that they were the more strange with the Society; and as it were offended that the Society were still so earnest to persuade all men to expect the Providence of God, and the help that might be procured by the mediation of other Princes, wherein also they assured all Catholics that His Holiness would effectually procure them to do their best. These gentlemen were impatient to hear of any longer stay upon unlikely hopes, and therein esteemed the Society hinderers of their good, as may appear by a letter of Father Garnett, written in the 8 of May, 1605, wherein he hath these words set down all in cypher: “All are desperate, divers Catholics are offended with Jesuits; they say that Jesuits do impugn and hinder all forcible enterprises. I dare not inform myself of their affairs, because of the prohibition of Father General for meddling in such affairs.” Then out of cypher followeth: “And so I cannot give you exact account; this I know by mere chance.” Thus much Father Garnett, whereby may appear both what commandment he had received from his Superiors and how carefully he performed it, even to the offence of these forward-minded Catholics, who were then well forward in their cruel enterprise. For this was after they had left the mine, and hired the cellar, as I said in the last chapter, as more commodious for their purpose. But of all that Father Garnett had not then the least imagination, only so much as he gathered by generalities, he informed his Superiors that they might hinder. Whereupon, having soon after received answer of these from Father Persons, with strict charge in the name of His Holiness, with Father General's letters also to the same effect, that he and his should continue, by all means possible, to hinder any insurrection or undutiful proceedings against His Majesty or the State. Unto those letters Father Garnett made this answer following, dated the 24 of July, the same year 1605.

“Magnifice Domine,”

Accepimus Dominationis vestræ litteras, quas, eâ quâ par est reverentiâ erga suam Sanctitatem et vestram Paternitatem amplectimur. Et quidem pro meâ parte quater hactenus tumultum impedivi. Nec dubium est quin publicos omnes armorum apparatus prohibere possimus; cum certum sit multos Catholicos absque nostro consensu nihil ejusmodi (nisi urgente necessitate) attentare velle. Duo tamen sunt quæ nos valde solicitos tenent. Primum ne alii fortassis in unâ aliquâ Provinciâ ad arma convolent, unde alios ipsa necessitas ad similia studia compellat. Sunt enim non pauci qui nudâ suæ Sanctitatis jussione cohiberi non possunt. Ausi sunt enim, vivo Papâ Clemente, interrogare, num posset Papa illos prohibere, quominus vitam suam defendant? Dicunt insuper, suorum secretorum Presbyterum nullum fore conscium, nominatim vero de nobis conqueruntur etiam amici nonnulli nos illorum molitionibus obicem ponere. Atque ut hos aliquo modo leniremus et saltem tempus lucraremur, ut dilatione aliquâ adhiberi possint congrua remedia, hortati sumus ut communi consilio aliquem ad Sanctissimum mitterent, quod factum est, eumque ad Illustrissimum Nuncium in Flandriam direxi, ut ab ipso suæ Sanctitati commendetur; scriptis etiam litteris, quibus eorum sententiam exposui, et rationes pro utrâque parte. Hæ litteræ fuse scriptæ ac plenius fuere, tutissime enim transferentur. Atque hæc de primo periculo. Alterum est aliquanto deterius, quia periculum est ne privatim aliqua proditio aut vis Regi offeratur, et hoc pacto omnes Catholici ad arma compellantur. Quare, meo quidem judicio duo necessaria sunt; primum ut sua Sanctitas præscribat quid quoquo in casu agendum sit; deinde ut sub censuris omnem armorum vim Catholicis prohibeat, idque Brevi publice edito, cujus occasio obtendi potest nuper excitatus in Walliâ tumultus qui demum in nihilum recidit. Restat ut (cum in pejus omnia quotidie prolabantur) oremus S. Sanctitatem his tantis periculis ut brevi necessarium aliquod remedium adhibeat, cujus sicut et Rdæ. Ptis. vræ benedictionem imploramus.[^305]

“Londini, 24 Julii, 1605.”

“Magcæ. Dnis. Væ. Servus”
“Henricus G.”

[^305: “We have received your letters and accept them with all the reverence due to His Holiness and your Paternity. For my part four times up to the present I have hindered disturbances. Nor is there any doubt that we can prevent all public taking up of arms, as it is certain that many Catholics would never attempt anything of this sort without our consent, except under the pressure of a great necessity. But two things make us very anxious. The first is lest some in some one province should fly to arms, and that then very necessity should compel others to like courses. For there are not a few who will not be kept back by a mere prohibition of His Holiness. There were some who dared to ask, when Pope Clement was alive, whether the Pope could prohibit their defending their lives. They further say that no Priest shall know their secrets; and of us by name even some friends complain that we put an obstacle in the way of their plans. Now to soften these in some way, and at least to gain time, that by delay some fitting remedy may be applied, we have advised them that by common consent they should send some one to the Holy Father, which they have done, and I have sent him into Flanders to the Nuncio, that he may commend him to His Holiness, and I have sent by him letters explaining their opinions and the reasons on both sides. These letters are written at some length, as they will be carried very safely. And this for the first danger. The other is somewhat worse, for the danger is lest secretly some treason or violence be shown to the King, and so all Catholics may be compelled to take arms. Wherefore, in my judgment, two things are necessary: first, that His Holiness should prescribe what in any case is to be done; and then, that he should forbid any force of arms to the Catholics under censures, and by Brief publicly promulgated, an occasion for which can be taken from the disturbance lately raised in Wales, which has at length come to nothing. It remains that as all things are daily becoming worse, we should beseech His Holiness soon to give a necessary remedy for these great dangers, and we ask his blessing and that of your Paternity.”]

By these we may see that Father Garnett having now great suspicion that these gentlemen had something in hand against the State, or perhaps perceiving by some general signs there was some such matter, he sought presently to apply the surest remedy from His Holiness. And true it is, as will appear after in Father Garnett's arraignment, that Mr. Catesby offered sometimes to tell him that they would not endure to be so long so much abused, but would take some course to right themselves, sith others would not respect them or could not relieve them; unto which general speeches Father Garnett would give no ear, nor durst not enter to inquire further of the matter, in respect of a prohibition from his Superiors, which he touched in the former letters. But yet upon this general knowledge, you see how earnestly he wrote for an authentical instrument of prohibition from such authority as he knew they would not resist, although perhaps his own words, in a matter of so great weight, would not suffice for all, though for the most and best it would, as before he also touched.

And it seemed soon after, as he thought that he had done some good with those gentlemen also, whom he feared most, or else that they had promised him to lay aside all thought of those matters, until they had answer from the gentleman whose sending, as you see, he had proposed to defer their hot desires until a cooling card might be sent from Rome, in answer of this his letter. For soon after, he wrote other letters of the 28 of August, wherein (having first declared how both his houses were discovered unto the Council, and he thereby utterly unfurnished of a safe place, and thereupon resolved to spend most of the summer in travel to visit a holy well of St. Winifred, which is a great pilgrimage in England, and to do what good he could at friends' houses by the way, both going and coming, until a fit house could be provided for him, wherein he might settle for the winter); this declared, he wrote as followeth: “And for anything we can see, Catholics are quiet, and likely to continue their old patience, and to trust to the King or his son for to remedy all in time. The increase of Catholics is great, and I hope in this journey (which I undertake to-morrow, both for health and want of a house) I shall have occasion of much good. I leave for substitute,” &c. And so he proceedeth to show whom he left to dispatch his London business in his absence. But where Father Garnett said in this letter that for ought he could see Catholics were quiet, his meaning was, no doubt, quiet from any attempts, as he supposed. For as for other quietness, or repose from persecution, you shall see what quiet there was by another letter of his written in October following, towards the end of his journey; which, being the true relation of the present state of things to be seen in such a man's letter, I think best to set it down verbatim: “My very loving Sir, we are to go within few days nearer London, yet are we unprovided of a house, nor can find any convenient for any long time. But we must be fain to borrow some private house for a time, and live more privately until this storm be overblown. For most strict inquiries are practised, wherein if my hostess be not quite undone, she speedeth better than many of her neighbours. The courses taken are more severe than in Queen Elizabeth's time. Every six weeks is a several court; juries appointed to indict, present, find the goods of Catholics, prize them, yea in many places to drive away whatsoever they find ‘contra ordinem juris,’ and put the owners, if perhaps Protestants, to prove that they be theirs, and not of recusants with whom they deal. The Commissioners, in all countries, are the most earnest and base Puritans, whom otherwise the King discountenanceth. The prisoners at Wisbich are almost famished; they are very close, and can have no help from abroad; but the King allowing a mark a week for each one, the keeper maketh his gains, and giveth them meat but three days a week. If any recusant buy his goods again, they inquire diligently if the money be his own, otherwise they would have that too. In fine, if these courses hold, every man must be fain to redeem once in six months the very bed he lieth on. And hereof (that is of twice redeeming) besides other precedents, I find one in this lodging of ——, where now I am.” (In his letter it is described, but here not fit to set down.) “The judges now openly protest that the King now will have blood, and hath taken blood in Yorkshire; that the King hath hitherto stroked Papists, but now will strike. And this is without any least desert of Catholics. The execution of two in the North is certain, and whereas it was done upon cold blood, that is, with so great stay after their condemnation, it argueth a deliberate resolution of what we may expect. So that there is no hope that [Pope] Paul [V.] can do anything; and whatsover men give out there, of easy proceedings with Catholics, is mere fabulous. And yet I am assured, notwithstanding, that the best sort of Catholics will bear all their losses with patience. But how these tyrannical proceedings of such base officers may drive particular men to desperate attempts, that I cannot answer for. The King's wisdom will foresee. In my journey,” &c. So he proceedeth to relate some particular occurrents that happened in his journey not needful here to be set down, yet towards the end of the letter he setteth down this: “I have a letter from Field in Ireland who telleth me that of late there was a very severe proclamation against all Ecclesiastical persons, and a general command for going to the church, with a solemn protestation that the King never promised nor meant to give toleration.” All these are Father Garnett's words truly and sincerely set down as they lie in his letter written by his own hand, dated the 4th of October, 1605,[^306] which I am the more glad I lit on, because it doth agree so just with my former relation of the state of England touching persecution of Catholics before the time of this late conspiracy; whereby some may see, by the plain words of so grave a witness as Father Garnett was, how much they are deceived, when they think that the persecution was caused by the conspiracy, and not, e contra, the conspiracy intended and attempted by those gentlemen out of impatience to bear so great abuses, and that from so base and cruel enemies as the Puritans are, who were everywhere made princes over Catholics, though otherwise not thought worthy to be esteemed or countenanced.

[^306: This date is an interlineation. Father Gerard has not noticed that the passage “I have a letter from Field,” &c., is taken from the PS. of this letter, and that the PS. bears date 21 Octobris. For this omission he has been severely blamed by Mr. Tierney.—Ed.]

All these, I say, be Father Garnett his letters, whereof I have seen the copies and have truly set down his own words as they are in the same (as I assure the reader upon my conscience), and the letters themselves, as I understand for certain, are as yet to be seen in Rome under his own hand, if occasion require. And by all these it is most apparent that Father Garnett was as careful as a man could be, to observe the strict commandment he had received both from His Holiness and from Father General and Father Persons his Superiors not to assent to any tumult, but to use all means he could to keep Catholics in quiet and in their former long combined patience, which he performed of his part with all sorts, and therein prevailed with the most and the best, as himself noteth. And how effectual his persuasions were, may also appear in that, when the gentlemen were up in arms, no Catholic of account would come to assist them, no, not those that were hard by the place; and men of great power, much greater than those that were risen: yea and some of them near of kindred, some nearly allied unto them; and yet they would neither go, nor send them any assistance; yea they shut their gates against them, when others came to demand it. Such was their resolution to obey the order they had received and to keep themselves quiet, according to the commandment they had from His Holiness, by the means of Father Garnett made known unto them. And whereas, Father Garnett did fear at the first, and afterwards find, that he could not rule some others so well, them he persuaded to defer at the least all such practices, until they had sent to know His Holiness' will: he, in the mean time, labouring, as you have seen, to have an effectual prohibition by a public instrument from the same authority. So that, it is most apparent, he was not only innocent from any furtherance or approbation of the treason itself; but also, an earnest hinderer of all kind of undutiful courses and violent attempts: and therein a most diligent and religious observer of his Superiors' will and commandment. Yet all this would not serve to work sufficient patience, or any longer expectance in the minds of these foresaid gentlemen, who, although they bare Father Garnett in hand that they would expect answer, this, as it seems, was but a show of expectance in them, and continued only until they saw the Parliament was almost at hand, and that it was too late for him to send further notice to his Superiors, and receive their answer. And they, in the mean time, proceeded, as afterwards Father Garnett also chanced to know, very much against his will, as will appear in that which followeth.

Chapter VI. How In The Mean Space, The Conspirators Proceeded In Their Purpose, And Drew In More Complices, And What They Were.

Whilst the great persecution before recited did reign so much, and brought with it so many and so great afflictions upon all sorts of Catholics, as before you have read, and whilst Father Garnett did verily persuade himself that notwithstanding all those great difficulties, all was and would be borne with patience, until further order could be taken, and the same patient toleration publicly commanded which he had privately counselled; these foresaid gentlemen who had commenced a course before that time which Father Garnett did little dream of, although they did bear him in hand whom they saw resolute for quiet courses, that they would expect until order came from authority, after their messenger had been heard, whom they had sent to explain their griefs according to his counsel, yet they, persuading themselves (as they afterwards affirmed to some that were with them, when they were in arms in the country, but were not taken with them) that if contrary order to their designments should come from higher authority (as they feared in likelihood it would, and therefore were loth to expect so long) that the same was only upon mistaking of their case or upon some hope perhaps His Holiness might have that things would be better with Catholics after a time, and that favour would be procured by fair means; and this hope grounded upon promises from those that had deceived many with the like and never kept any yet that they made in that kind. They therefore, thinking themselves to have had so long trial hereof, would not be staid, as it seems, from their present purpose by future expectations, but proceeded in what way they had begun, and provided still more powder to such a quantity as made up in all thirty-six barrels, some bigger and some less; all which they placed so in the cellar under the Parliament House, as must needs have overthrown the same and some other buildings also that had been near unto it, if it had been set on fire as was intended; especially having placed thereon many billets of wood to cover the same powder and some bars of iron also of purpose: all which being blown up with the powder, would have made sure to tear and rend the Parliament House in pieces.

Thus having disposed all things in the cellar as they would have them, they absented themselves much from thence; because they would give no cause of note over that place more than others, whereof they were ever very careful. And so they had good cause, being men as likely to be noted by the State for men of action and performance, as any in the realm; and then, being withal known to be resolute Catholics, their often meetings or haunting much to one place, especially near the Court, would not have been free from suspect. For the same cause also, during all the time they wrought in the mine or cellar, they would have but small company, and were but seven acquainted with the matter, all which I named before. Only one man of meaner condition they admitted there into the secret, to help them in making provision of their powder, and that was one Bates, a servant of Mr. Robert Catesby's, whom he had great opinion of for his long tried fidelity towards him, which the poor fellow continued even until he saw his master dead; and then, it is like, his heart was dead withal, for he showed some fear after, when he was taken, which gave others occasion to work upon his weakness and to give some beginning of colour towards the accusation of divers that were not guilty in the matter, as shall afterwards appear. But these foresaid gentlemen having left the cellar, as they desired to find it, were then to seek for further helps wherewith to effect their designments when that act should be performed. For then their purpose was (saith Mr. Winter in his printed confession) to seize upon the person of the young Prince, if he were not in the Parliament House, which they much desired. But if he were, then upon the young Duke Charles, who then should be the next heir, and him they would erect, and with him and by his authority, the Catholic religion. If that did also fail them, then had they a resolution to take the Lady Elizabeth, who was in the keeping of the Lord Harrington in Warwickshire; and so by one means or other, they would be certain to settle in the crown one of the true heirs unto the same. But to perform this part of their exploit required more hands and help than as yet they had at command. Wherefore they bethought themselves what help they might adjoin unto them in that great secret, without likely danger and yet with the assistance which they wanted, which partly required some more men of strength both in mind and body; but chiefly for supply of money, which if they had in readiness, and that placed in those countries where they meant to gather to a head, and where, for the most part, all sorts are either Catholic or affected to Catholics, they thought then they could want neither men nor any needful provision.

To this effect they first acquainted Mr. Ambrose Rookewood with the business, a gentleman of good worth in the county of Suffolk and of a very ancient family and himself the heir of the eldest house. This gentleman was brought up in Catholic religion from his infancy and was ever very devout. His parents also were very virtuous and suffered much persecution for their Faith, both in payment of money and loss of their goods and many other molestations; yet was their house a continual receptacle for Priests, and a place wherein many other Catholics did often find great spiritual comfort, the house being a very fair great house and his living very sufficient. But that which moved them specially to make choice of Mr. Rookewood was, I suppose, not so much to have his help by his living as by his person, and some provision of horses, of which he had divers of the best: but for himself, he was known to be of great virtue and no less valour and very secret. He was also of very good parts otherwise as for wit and learning, having spent of his youth in study. He was at this time, as I take it, not past twenty-six or twenty-seven years old and had married a gentlewoman of a great family, a virtuous Catholic also, by whom he had divers young children. Yet it seemed all those did little move him nor any respect to his living or fortune, though he had enjoyed them but a little time; whereby I do gather, they made a great account of this business, in respect whereof, it seems, they made account of nothing.

Next unto him was a Warwickshire gentleman, one Mr. John Grant, a man of sufficient estate for his own charge, and lived well in his country; but of no great ability to help in the business, otherwise than by his acquaintance (being well beloved and allied in that country where they were chiefly to need help). But for his own person he was as fierce as a lion, of a very undaunted courage as could be found in a country: which mind of his he had often showed unto pursuivants and prowling companions, when they would come to his house to search and ransack the same, as they did to divers of his neighbours. But he paid them so well for their labour not with crowns of gold but with cracked crowns sometimes, and with dry blows instead of drink and other good cheer, that they durst not visit him any more, unless they brought great store of help with them. Truth is, his mettle and manner of proceeding was so well known unto them, that it kept them very much in awe and himself in much quiet which he did the rather use, that he might with more safety keep a Priest in his house, which he did with great fruit unto his neighbours and comfort to himself. This gentleman therefore they adjoined to their company, as they had done Mr. Rookewood, giving to them both the oath of secrecy, according to their custom.

Then they called in one Mr. Robert Keyes, a grave and sober man, and of great wit and sufficiency, as I have heard divers say, that were well acquainted with him. His virtue and valour were the chiefest things wherein they could expect assistance from him; for otherwise, his means were not great, but in those two, by report, he had great measure. More was the pity that such men, so worthy to be esteemed, should lose themselves in such a labyrinth of erring courses.

But of all others, he that was most pitied and generally most commended of all men, was the next whom Mr. Catesby thought fit to acquaint with the matter, therein to have his help and assistance in all kinds, both for counsel and forces and provision of money, of horses and armour and men and followers; in all which, put them all together and there was not such a man amongst them. And this was Sir Everard Digby, a Knight of great living and great account in his country. He was of an ancient and great family, whose ancestors were a great help to the suppressing of Richard III. the tyrant, and the bringing and setting up of King Henry VII. from whom our King James is lineally descended: whereupon King Henry did make Knights in the field seven brothers of his house at one time, from whom descended divers houses of that name, which live all in good reputation in their several countries. But this Sir Everard Digby was the heir of the eldest and chiefest house, and one of the chiefest men in Rutlandshire where he dwelt, as his ancestors had done before him, though he had also much living in Leicestershire and other shires adjoining. His estate was not fully come into his hands, for his mother lived, who had above seven or eight hundred pounds a year; but he had in his hands above 2,000 marks a year. This gentleman was always Catholicly affected, and heir unto the piety of his parents, as well as to their living: for they were ever the most noted and known Catholics in that country. And although this gentleman being left a ward by his Father's untimely death, was not brought up Catholicly in his youth, but at the University by his guardians, as other young gentlemen use to be; yet when he came to be of riper years, and had the guiding of himself and his own estate, he affected most the company of Catholics and finding by them the necessity not only of believing but of practising also and professing that religion, he presently made election rather to suffer with Catholic religion, and to bear with Catholics the cross of persecution than to rise with heresy and to be advanced in the Court, which until then he had followed, and was as likely to be raised as any there, if he would have followed the time. For indeed to do him right, he was as complete a man in all things that deserved estimation or might win affection, as one should see in a kingdom. He was of stature about two yards high, very little lower than Mr. Catesby but of stronger making; of countenance so comely and manlike, that when he was taken and brought up to the Court (not in the best case to make show of himself as you may imagine), yet some of the chiefest in the Court seeing him out of a window brought in that manner, lamented him much, and said he was the goodliest man in the whole Court. He was skilful in all things that belonged unto a gentleman, very cunning at his weapon, much practised and expert in riding of great horses, of which he kept divers in his stable continually with a skilful rider for them. For other sports of hunting or hawking, which gentlemen in England so much use and delight in, he had the best of both kinds in the country round about, insomuch that he made that the colour of his going into Warwickshire at this time, and of drawing company together of his friends, as it were to a match of hunting which he had made. For all manner of games which are also usual for gentlemen in foul weather, when they are forced to keep house, he was not only able therein to keep company with the best; but was so cunning in them all, that those who knew him well, had rather take his part than be against him. He was a good musician and kept divers good musicians in his house; and himself also could play well of divers instruments. But those who were well acquainted with him do affirm that in gifts of mind he excelled much more than in his natural parts; although in those also it were hard to find so many in one man in such a measure. But of wisdom he had an extraordinary talent, such a judicial wit and so well able to discern and discourse of any matter, as truly I have heard many say they have not seen the like of a young man, and that his carriage and manner of discourse were more like to a grave Councillor of State, than to a gallant of the Court as he was, and a man but of twenty-six years old (which I think was his age or thereabouts). And though his behaviour were courteous to all, and offensive to none, yet was he a man of great courage and of noted valour, which at his end he showed plainly to the world, all men seeing and affirming that he made no account at all of death. He was so studious a follower of virtue, after he became Catholic, that he gave great comfort to those that had the guiding of his soul (as I have heard them seriously affirm more than once or twice), he used his prayers daily both mental and vocal, and daily and diligent examination of his conscience: the Sacraments he frequented devoutly every week, and to that end kept a Priest in his house continually, who for virtue and learning hath not many his betters in England. Briefly I have heard it reported of this Knight by those that knew him well, and that were often in his company, that they did note in him a special care of avoiding all occasions of sin and of furthering acts of virtue in what he could; to which end he was not only studious to bring as many to be Catholics as he could (studying books of purpose to enable himself in that kind), and brought in divers of that sort and some of great account and place. Not only in this highest kind, wherein he took very great joy and comfort, but also in ordinary talk, when he had observed that the speech did tend to any evil, as detraction or other kind of evil words which sometimes will happen in company, his custom was presently to take some occasion to alter the talk, and cunningly to bring in some other good matter or profitable subject to talk of. And this, when the matter was not very grossly evil, or spoken to the dishonour of God or disgrace of His servants; for then, his zeal and courage were such, that he could not bear it, but would publicly and stoutly contradict it, whereof I could give divers instances worth relating, but am loth to hold the reader longer; having written thus much of him, that it may appear what was the cause why he was so much and so generally lamented, and is so much esteemed and praised by all sorts in England, both Catholics and others, although neither side do or can approve this last outrageous and exorbitant attempt against our King and country, wherein a man otherwise so worthy, was so unworthily lost and cast away to the great grief of all that knew him and especially of all that loved him. And truly it was hard to do the one and not the other.

The last of all that was called to be partaker in this treacherous plot was Mr. Francis Tresham, a gentleman of Northamptonshire of great estate, esteemed then worth 3,000l. a year. His parents had been long time Catholic and his father often in prison for his conscience, although he paid the statute duly besides of 20l. a month for his refusing to go to Church with heretics. This gentleman had been wild in his youth, and even till his end was not known to be of so good example as the rest, though, towards his later years, much reclaimed and good hope conceived of him by divers of good judgment. I think Mr. Catesby (who was his near kinsman) did chiefly acquaint him with the matter in regard of his help by provision of money which Mr. Tresham was as well able to do as the best, and thought to be as likely to be both faithful and forward as any, having been, before, a companion with them in that action of the Earl of Essex in Queen Elizabeth's time, and both then and since, continually discontented with the proceedings of the State. But it is thought by most, that Mr. Tresham had not that zeal for the advancement of the Catholics' cause in respect of itself, as the others had. And it seems by Mr. Winter's confession, they also repented afterwards that they had made him of their council, fearing him to be the man who had opened the matter and so defeated them of their purpose; whereof I must treat in the next chapter.

But these gentlemen being thus added to the number of the conspirators, they then began to conclude amongst themselves how everything should be acted, as saith Mr. Winter. They designed Mr. Faulkes to be the man that should strike that first and fatal stroke and attend upon the powder ready prepared in the cellar, to set it on fire with a match, when the hour appointed should be come, which should be the first day of the Parliament, because then the King would certainly be there, and all the Lords also (but those whom they meant to keep from thence by some means or other), likewise all their Bishops and most of the chiefest Puritans of the land.

Mr. Percy his office should be (with a certain company ready to assist him) presently after that first blow to enter the place where the young Prince or the Duke Charles were kept, to seize upon his person, who being safely placed in the custody of Catholics, presently they would have proclaimed him King. Sir Everard Digby was in Warwickshire at the time appointed, as it was agreed amongst them, where, under pretence of a hunting match (having brought his hawks and hounds to Dunsmore Heath for the purpose, and hunted there two or three days before), he gathered many of his friends together, and had himself great store of men, and many fair and goodly horses. He had also made great provision of armour and shot, which he sent before him in a cart with some trusty servants, and had made ready above 1,000l. in ready coin, as his servants since have averred that did escape, and one of them delivered up great part of the money to the King's officers so soon as he saw his master fallen into the lapse.

Their intention was that if they failed of the Prince or Duke about London, which was not unlike they should, then would some of them hasten down to Sir Everard Digby after the blow were given, others stopping the ways that no news might pass but by their permission; and then should Sir Everard Digby have made sure, with his forces and friends, to have taken the Lady Elizabeth out of the Lord Harrington his hands, whom then they would presently have proclaimed heir-apparent to the Crown. Then had they (as is expressed in their confessions) a proclamation ready penned, wherein they would have commanded all sorts of men, by authority of the Prince or Princess, who would have been in their custody, to assist the quiet settling of the young King or Queen in their seat. They would have offered freedom from all taxes and impositions, and payments of subsidies, and such like; and for religion, they would have left it as yet free for all sorts to follow their own conscience without compulsion, which afterwards they meant (saith the printed confession) to have set better in order. And so indeed the Catholics are able to perform it, if they might have freedom, by many means more effectual than force of arms, in such an unsettled State as that must needs have been for a time; and by many means more effectual than heretics have, who therefore only use the sword. For, if the truth might freely be preached, if the lives and examples of Catholics, and especially of Religious Orders, might be seen and suffered in public, if those that be followers of the Apostles, and expert in their trade of fishing for men, might be freely permitted to use and show their skill in gaining of souls, no doubt then but the sun shining so bright, as it would be seen to do in the doctrine of Truth, would disperse the clouds of error; no doubt but the candle set upon the candlestick would give light unto many minds that now are groping in the Egyptian darkness of heresy. And no question but many and great fishes would be taken, when the night being past, our Lord would both license and direct His servants to cast their net on the right hand, and that such a net as would not break, the net of Peter that is entire and undivided, although it be able to catch at one draught a hundred, fifty and three great fishes, wherein is designed by a great and certain number an uncertain and not to be numbered gain of souls, that the Apostles and Apostolic men should gain to Christ. And this these gentlemen hoped had been the time. But God, in Whose only hands and disposition are the moments of time, and Who hath placed bounds and limits unto the sea, and saith unto it, “Usque huc venies et non procedes amplius et hic confringes tumentes fluctus tuos:”[^307] He Who is the Master must be also the Measurer of time, and He will not easily make men of His council when their afflictions shall end and how far they shall proceed; especially such men as themselves will not follow counsel, but run headlong upon such a course as this, which no wise man could or would have counselled. No, on the contrary side, that was verified in this practice which Christ foretold unto St. Peter, when upon zeal he drew his sword in defence of his Master,

[^307: “Hitherto thou shalt come, and shalt go no further, and here thou shalt break thy swelling waves” (Job xxxviii. 11).]

“Omnes qui acceperint gladium, gladio peribunt,”[^308] said our Lord, forewarning all men, that howsoever they may receive the sword or use it, when it is given them by authority (as it is to all lawful governors and officers in commonwealths), yet to take the sword (which noteth a private will or power not authorized) is not without a fault, nor shall be without a fall. And so it happened to these conspirators, as the sequent chapter will declare.

[^308: “All that take the sword, shall perish with the sword” (St. Matt. xxvi. 52).]

Chapter VII. How, The Parliament Drawing Near, The Whole Plot Was Discovered, And That Which Ensued Thereupon.

The mercies of God are great, and His patient expectance of us, granting time and occasions and motives to repent, is most gracious and full of longanimity. The foresaid conspirators had intended and prepared, as you have heard, the utter destruction and overthrow both of the King with the chiefest of his family, of the Council also, with most of the nobility, and with their clergy, and others that belonged to both the Houses of Parliament. But the mercies of God were such, that He would not permit so great and universal a ruin to light upon so many, and amongst them so many worthy persons, amongst whom, it is to be hoped, His infinite wisdom hath foreseen many upon whom His goodness will bestow His grace hereafter, and so make them vessels of election, who now perhaps, in ignorant zeal, do persecute the servants of Christ and Christ in them.

And if there were any there who finally will prove but cockle in the field, yet the Father of the family would not have them so digged out as His unskilful servants desired, “ne forte eradicantibus illis zizania, eradicatum fuisset simul et triticum.”[^309] We hope and pray for much good unto many of those, who should have been present at that eruption of fire, if it had succeeded according to their intent, which God forbid. And God did forbid it, for no doubt it was His will it should be discovered, which happened in this manner. About ten days before the Parliament should have begun the Lord Mounteagle (whose affection to Catholics hath long time been known unto divers) being at his own house and at supper, a man came to his page in the street and delivered him a letter wishing him to deliver the same unto his Lord's own hands, which the page performed, but made no stay of the bringer thereof, who presently departed. The Lord Mounteagle not knowing the hand, and seeing no name subscribed, caused one of his men to read it unto him, and it was of this tenour.

[^309: “Lest perhaps gathering up the cockle, you root up the wheat also together with it” (St. Matt. xiii. 29).]

[^310] “My Lord, out of the love I bear to some of your friends, I have a care of your preservation, therefore I would advise you, as you tender your life, to devise some excuse to shift off your attendance at this Parliament, for God and man have concurred to punish the wickedness of this time. And think not slightly of this advertisement, but retire yourself into your country, where you may expect the event in safety. For though there be no appearance of any stir, yet, I say, they shall receive a terrible blow this Parliament, and yet they shall not see who hurts them. This counsel is not to be contemned, because it may do you good, and can do you no harm, for the danger is past so soon as you have burnt the letter. And I hope God will give you the grace to make use of it, to Whose holy protection I commend you.”

[^310: The letter sent to the Lord Mounteagle.]

This was the letter which the Lord Mounteagle having considered, and seeing so dangerous matter contained in it, he presently went to the Lord of Salisbury, who is Chief Secretary to His Majesty, and delivered the letter unto him, with relation of all circumstances in the receipt and reading of the letter. The Lord of Salisbury seemed not at the first to make any great account of it, yet said he would acquaint some other Lords of the Council with the same, and commended the Lord Mounteagle for his fidelity and care of His Majesty's safety, and of the State, and presently showed the letter to the Lord Chamberlain, and then both of them thought the letter might have some relation with other informations the Lord of Salisbury had received from beyond seas, concerning some business intended by the Papists; and they seemed to think there might be some perilous attempt intended. And therefore they two concluded to join with them three other of the Council, to wit, the Lord Admiral, the Earl of Worcester and Northampton, to be acquainted with this matter; who having all of them concurred together to the examination of the contents of the said letter, they did conclude (saith the book written of the discovery of this treason) that how slight soever a matter it might at the first appear, yet was it not absolutely to be contemned, in respect of the care which it behoved them to have of the preservation of His Majesty's person. Yet they resolved, for two reasons, first to acquaint the King himself with the same, before they proceeded to any further inquisition in the matter, as well (saith the book) for the expectation and experience they had of His Majesty's fortunate judgment in clearing and solving of obscure riddles and doubtful mysteries, as also because the more time would in the meanwhile be given for the practice to ripen (if any was) whereby the discovery might be the more clear and evident, and the ground of proceeding thereupon more safe, just, and easy. And so according to their determination the said Earl of Salisbury did repair to the King upon the Friday after, being All-Hallow-day, which was the day after His Majesty's arrival from Royston, where he had been at his hunting exercise, and was come up to London to be present at the beginning of the Parliament. The Earl therefore finding the King alone in his gallery, without any other speech or judgment giving of the letter, but only relating simply the form of the delivery thereof, he presented it to His Highness. The King no sooner read the letter, but after a little pause, and then reading it over again, he delivered his judgment of it in such sort, as he thought it was not to be contemned; for that the style of it seemed to be more quick and pithy than is usual to be in any pasquil or libel, the superfluities of idle brains. But the Earl of Salisbury perceiving the King to apprehend it deeplier than he looked for, knowing his nature, told him that he thought by one sentence in it, that it was like to be written by some fool or madman, reading to him that sentence in it, “For the danger is past as soon as you have burnt the letter,” which he said was likely to be the saying of a fool; for if the danger was past so soon as the letter was burnt, then the warning behoved to be of little avail, when the burning of the letter might make the danger to be eschewed. But the King by the contrary, considering the former sentence in the letter, “That they should receive a terrible blow at this Parliament, and yet should not see who hurt them;” joining it to the sentence immediately following already alleged, did thereupon conjecture that the danger mentioned should be some sudden danger by blowing up of powder. For no other insurrection, rebellion, or whatsoever other private and desperate attempt could be committed or attempted in time of Parliament and the authors thereof unseen except only if it were by a blowing up of powder, which might be performed by one base knave in a dark corner: whereupon he was moved to interpret and construe the later sentence in the letter (alleged by the Earl of Salisbury against all ordinary sense and construction in grammar) as if by these words, “For the danger is past as soon as you have burned the letter,” should be closely understood the suddenty and quickness of the danger, which should be as quickly performed and at an end, as that paper should be of blazing up in the fire, turning the word of “as soon” to the sense of “as quickly;” and therefore His Majesty wished that before his going to the Parliament, the under rooms to the Parliament House might be well and narrowly searched. The Earl of Salisbury wondering at this His Majesty's commentary, which he knew to be so far contrary to his ordinary and natural disposition, who did rather ever sin upon the other side, in not apprehending nor trusting the advertisements of practices and perils when he was freely informed of them, and interpreting rightly this extraordinary caution at this time to proceed from the vigilant care he had of the whole State more than of his own person, yet he thought good to dissemble still unto the King, that there was any just cause of such apprehension, and ended the present talk with some merry jest as his custom is. But though he seemed to neglect it to His Majesty, yet he could not be at rest till with the Lord Chamberlain he came again unto His Majesty, at which time it was agreed that the said Lord Chamberlain should according to his custom and office view all the Parliament Houses both above and below, and consider what likelihood or appearance of any such danger might be gathered: but yet this was deferred until the afternoon before the sitting down of the Parliament, which was upon the Monday following: at what time, he according to this conclusion went to the Parliament House accompanied with the Lord Mounteagle, where having viewed all the lower rooms, he found in the vault under the Upper House great store and provision of billets, faggots, and coals: and inquiring of Whyneyard, keeper of the wardrobe, to what use he had put the lower rooms and cellars, he told him that Mr. Thomas Percy had hired both the house and part of the cellar or vault under the same and that the wood and coal therein was the said gentleman's own provision. Whereupon the Lord Chamberlain looking into the room perceived a fellow standing in a corner, who called himself the said Percy his man, and keeper of that house for him, but indeed was Guido Faulks, the man that should have acted that monstrous tragedy.

The Lord Chamberlain looking upon all things with a heedful eye, though in outward show he seemed careless, presently addressed himself to the King, and in the presence of the Lord Treasurer, the Lord Admiral, the Earls of Worcester, Northampton, and Salisbury, he made his report what he had seen and observed there, affirming that he did wonder not a little at the extraordinary great provision of wood and coal in that house where Thomas Percy had so seldom occasion to remain, as likewise it gave him in his mind, that his man looked like a very tall and desperate fellow. This could not but increase the King's former apprehension, whereupon he willed that those billets and coals should be searched to the bottom: and of the same opinion were the Lords there present, although they thought it fit to have it done in the night, and by a Justice of Peace only under pretence of searching for some of the King's stuff that was missing; and this for two reasons; one was lest if nothing were found, it should seem the King and State were too suspicious of every light toy; also for that they said it would lay an ill-favoured imputation upon the Earl of Northumberland, one of His Majesty's greatest subjects and Councillors: this Thomas Percy being his kinsman and most confident familiar.

Thus far the book of the discovery of this treason discourseth of the manner how the same did come to light. And because the same was set forth by authority, with desire that men all should conceive this to be the manner how it came to light, it may be thought that so it was. Yet there want not many others of great judgment, that think His Majesty and divers of those Councillors also, who had the scanning of the letter, to be well able in shorter time and with fewer doubts to decipher a darker riddle and find out a greater secret than that matter was, after so plain a letter was delivered, importing in so plain terms an intended punishment both by God and man, and so terrible a blow to be given at that very time and yet the actors invisible. And those that be of this opinion do persuade themselves the matter came out by some other means, and that this letter was but framed and sent of purpose to give another show of casual discovery both to hide the true means and to make the especial preservation of the King and State to be better discerned to come from God Himself. Unto which opinion they were the rather inclined by the circumstance of the matter. First, in that the Lord Mounteagle did that night wherein the letter was to be delivered, appoint a supper to be made for him at his own house a mile or two out of London, where he had not supped or lain of a twelve-month and more before that time, and therefore strange that party should seek him there. Then the manner of delivery seemed strange, to be so weakly handled by any that had judgment as to be delivered to a page and to be read by his Lord in the time of supper, when he could not with safety have concealed the matter, if he would. Again it was so written, as that my Lord of Salisbury might well say it was like to be the writing of a fool or a madman. For no other assuredly would have committed so great a secret to ink and paper in so plain manner and that so long before the time; especially there being many other means likely enough to be effectual for the staying of my Lord Mounteagle from the Parliament that one day, and that without his danger of concealing any practice against the State. For if some special friend had seemed to be in extremity and sent for him in the instant, he would not have failed him. Besides many sudden occasions would have sufficed, as a certain and present opportunity of some commodious bargain for provision of money or jewels or such like, which courtiers often have want of, if another, time would not have served, would have been more likely to call him that very morning than this letter so delivered to stay him ten days before.

But although many were of opinion that this was not the first means of this discovery, yet none that ever I could hear of, was able to give a certain judgment, which way indeed it was discovered. It seems the gentlemen themselves did most fear Mr. Francis Tresham to be the man that should send this letter unto the Lord Mounteagle, which Lord had married Mr. Tresham his sister. But that was nothing likely, for he was very witty; and surely the sending of such a letter in such a manner was nothing wittingly contrived, if it were done bona fide; neither would Mr. Tresham have adventured his life and estate (which was great) for his brother-in-law, if he had not thought him worthy of further trust. For if he did not think the letter would persuade, why should he write it so plainly to the overthrow of the business and so also of himself, which if the Lord followed not his counsel, must needs follow. And if he did believe it would persuade, why did he not rather do it by word of mouth the very morning it should have been done, which for divers reasons had been most likely to be effectual; whereas on the other side he might well think the Lord Mounteagle could not discern by the letter, whether it came from friend or foe, being without name and in an unknown hand: and from a friend he could not think it being sent in so simple and yet so public manner. If from a foe, he were undone, if he did conceal it. No, Mr. Tresham had too much wit to deal so sillily in a thing of such importance. More did doubt want of fidelity than of wit in Mr. Tresham, and therefore it was rather supposed, by most that doubted him to be the man, that he first opened the matter unto the Council, as thinking thereby to be raised to some place of credit, which then he might think himself with wit and living able to bear out with the best. This opinion was the rather believed afterwards, when it was evident that none of the rest had done it, who were privy unto the matter; but that every one of them either died in the field because they would not be taken, or being taken were all executed and so left not the least suspicion of having opened the matter. Again, this opinion was increased when the matter being discovered, all the gentlemen fled into Warwickshire and then according to their former designments, rose in arms, thinking to have made a head. But Mr. Tresham staid still in London and never stirred foot, though as far in as the best. And thirdly, the opinion was yet more confirmed when afterwards Mr. Tresham was also taken and kept close prisoner, at which time the general bruit was, that he confessed all he knew; but none of his confessions were published, neither did himself ever come to light afterwards, but died in the Tower; so that it is not known what he had discovered first or last, or what he would have confirmed, or repented, if he had come unto his trial and execution as the rest did.

But whosoever was the discoverer of this matter or by what means soever it came to light, we are much to thank God that it was discovered, from whom we must acknowledge the benefit received as from the chief cause, “a quo omne donum optimum et omne bonum procedit,”[^311] and these especially which most concern the public good.

[^311: “Every best gift and every perfect is from above” (St. James i. 17).]

The letter therefore being so understood as before I declared, and the place itself being viewed by the Lord Chamberlain giving such cause of suspicion, as is already noted, that night following being Monday night (when the Parliament should have begun and ended also the next day) Sir Thomas Knevet, a gentleman of His Majesty's Privy Chamber, was sent to search the place at midnight under pretence of looking for some other things as was before devised. When he came to the Parliament House before his entry into Mr. Percy his lodging, he found the foresaid man that had the keeping of the house for Mr. Percy standing without the house and seeing him with his clothes on and booted at so dead a time of the night, the Justice apprehended him: and after went forward to the searching of the house, where after he had caused to be overturned some of the billets and coals, he first found one of the small barrels of powder, and after, all the rest, to the number of thirty-six barrels great and small. And thereafter searching the fellow whom he had taken, found three matches and all other instruments fit for blowing up of the powder ready upon him: which made him instantly to confess what his intent was, affirming withal that if he had happened to have been within the house when he was taken, as he was immediately before at the ending of his work, he would not have failed to have blown up the Justice, house and all, belike imagining that some part of the danger might have lit upon the Court and done some harm to those, to whom he most desired it. For otherwise I know not what meaning he should have, unless by his own sudden death also, which would have followed, he meant to escape the extremity of torture which he might well expect: but this we did not hear that he attempted afterwards to himself nor seemed to desire it.

This done, the prisoner was carried fast bound unto the Court and the news of all particulars presently carried unto the King by those of the Council who lay in the house, although it were but four hours after midnight. Afterwards all the rest of the Council being sent for into the town, they examined the prisoner, who both to the Council and to all the rest that spake with him that day, appeared so constant and settled upon his grounds, as all the Council said they thought they had found another Mutius Scævola born in England. For notwithstanding the horror of the fact, his sudden surprising, the terror which might have been stricken into him by coming into such a presence and the restless and confused questions that every man all that day did vex him with, yet was his countenance so far from being dejected, as he often smiled in scornful manner, not only avowing the fact, but repenting only with the said Scævola his failing in the execution thereof, whereof, he said, the devil and not God was the discoverer: answering quickly to every man's objection, scoffing at many idle questions that were propounded unto him and jesting with such as he thought had no authority to examine him. All that day the Council could get nothing out of him concerning his complices, refusing to answer to any such questions which he thought might discover the plot and laying all the blame upon himself, whereunto he said he was moved only for religion and conscience sake, denying the King to be his lawful sovereign or the anointed of God, in respect he was an heretic; and would acknowledge no other name to himself but John Johnson, servant to Thomas Percy. But after he had been three or four days in the Tower and was threatened the rack only, as the printed book saith (though the common voice was, that he was extremely racked the first days), then, whether to avoid torments, or for that he might understand that the gentlemen had discovered themselves by rising up in arms in the country, he then named some of his complices, with his own name also, and how the matter was broken unto him, and how begun and prosecuted, as I have before declared; yet I cannot find by his confession which is published in print, that he named above six of those who had wrought in the mine and provision of the powder and who then were all known to be up in arms. And here we must leave this prisoner, who now was known to be Guido Faulks, close kept in the Tower; and will let you see what course the rest of the conspirators took, when they understood the matter was plainly discovered.

First, upon the knowledge that such a letter was delivered to the Lord Mounteagle ten days before, they grew very doubtful of the matter, and fearing only Mr. Tresham in that kind, had divers meetings with him to examine and try him how far he had proceeded. But he forswearing all and that he knew nothing how it came about, they had divers consultations what were best to do; but (as Mr. Thomas Winter saith in his confession) first that Mr. Catesby resolved, he would not fly his country, he would see further yet. And then they sent Mr. Faulks to see if all were well in the cellar, who adventured to go notwithstanding the doubt and returned to them at night and told them all was yet well, which it seems gave them some hope, yet afterwards when they heard what conference had passed between my Lord of Salisbury and His Majesty about the letter, they gave it lost the second time, and then Mr. Catesby would not go until Mr. Percy were come up, who came the next day and he would needs abide the uttermost trial. But upon Tuesday morning (which was the day appointed for the fact) Mr. Faulks being taken in the search that night as is declared, they heard and saw so many and so plain circumstances, that they must needs know the whole matter was discovered and no hope at all that way to be left them. Then they, being all excellently well horsed, rode into the country keeping the highway; but so fast a pace and with such a resolution, that it was very hard to overtake them and would not have been easy to have stayed them. They rode two and three together; and they did ride that day notwithstanding the foulness of the winter ways to Dunchurch (which I take it, is almost eighty[^312] miles), where Sir Everard Digby stayed in readiness to have surprised the person of the King's daughter in case they had brought other news. But they bringing such news as was little expected and less welcome, as it may well be supposed, they all entered into consultation what was best to be done, and it was much marvelled at by divers of Sir Everard Digby his friends, who were there with him in company for his match of hunting, to see so many gallant gentlemen come in of sudden so late in the evening and so well appointed. And seeing them enter into serious consultation in a chamber apart, they knew not what to make of it; but soon after they might perceive, when they all came out, as men resolved upon some enterprise. And Sir Everard caused all his men and horses presently to be ready and departed with them. Mr. Catesby also and other of the gentlemen had prepared their horses and furniture ready in that place beforehand, although they thought they should have used it with more advantage. For now when the matter was known and bruited in the country, that such an act should have been performed in London, which had failed and that all was safe there, and that it was apparent these were the conspirators by the course they took, none would come to assist them;[^313] nor had they any with them, but such servants and followers as themselves had provided beforehand under other pretences, which therefore for danger of giving suspicion could not be many. Neither do I think they were ever above eighty in the whole company, although the fame in other countries went first that they were 150, then 300, and some said they were 1,000 strong. But if that had been so, it is like the matter had not been so soon ended, as it proved to be.[^314] But these conspirators, as it seems, hoped the matter would prove otherwise than it did, and that many would have joined with them, when once they saw them gathered to a head. And to make their rising the more bruited and withal to furnish themselves of some horses for the great saddle, they went presently to Warwick and there out of a house which is adjoining to the Castle, they seized upon certain great horse belonging to some noblemen and gentlemen which were kept there by a rider to be taught. From thence they went and took all my Lord Winsor's armour, which by report was able to furnish a much greater company then ever they had with them. From thence they went forward through Worcestershire towards Staffordshire, offering no violence or hurt to any.[^315]

[^312: Is above 60. Erased in Orig.]

[^313: Neither friends to their persons, nor friends to their religion. Erased in Orig.]

[^314: But this bruit, indeed, had been the likeliest way to increase their number by the resort of other Catholics from other countries, if the fact itself had not disliked other Catholics, and their minds had not been well prepared beforehand to refuse all such attempts by the persuasion of Father Garnett and others by his direction, according to the order sent from His Holiness and the like commandment also from Father General and Father Persons, as before hath been declared. Erased in Orig.]

[^315: But expecting belike that divers Catholic gentlemen of those countries (where there be very many, and some of great worth and large estates) should have come unto them. And Mr. Thomas Winter was sent unto one of the greatest (whose daughter Mr. Robert Winter aforesaid had married), but he caused his gates to be shut against him and would not so much as hear him speak. And yet the said gentleman was afterward in great trouble and had like to have lost all his estate, as bearing good-will unto them. Erased in Orig. The lines of erasure extend over the following sentence also.]

The country in the meantime began to rise on every side, yet none did as yet set upon them, nor until Friday following;[^316] and on Thursday night they came to one Mr. Stephen Littleton's house in Staffordshire, who had adjoined himself unto them. And being there it pleased God to send them such a fortune as seemed very much to alter their resolutions, and made them resolve neither to fight nor fly, but to give up themselves willingly unto death. For in the morning early when some were gone abroad to discover what companies were coming, and others were preparing their shot and powder in a readiness, because there was some of the powder that they thought to be somewhat dankish which they set before the fire and were busy about it, whilst behold, a spark falling out of the fire took hold of the powder, and that blowing up, hurt divers of them, especially Mr. Catesby, Mr. Rookewood, but most of all Mr. Grant, whose face was much disfigured, and his eyes almost burnt out. This loe[^317] made them see it was not best for them to proceed in their commenced course; and, as it seems, they took it for a sign of God's will that He would not have them prepare to resist, but rather to prepare themselves to suffer, which they did. For, as Mr. Thomas Winter said in his confession, when himself (with Mr. Littleton being abroad in the fields to discover) had understood of this heavy chance, and the matter being told him by his man in worse sort than indeed it was (to wit, that Mr. Catesby, Mr. Rookewood, and Mr. Grant were burnt up with powder, and the rest of the company dispersed upon sight thereof), he resolving not to fly, as Mr. Littleton advised him, but first to see and bury the body of his friend Mr. Catesby, so returned back to the house, and there found the gentlemen reasonable well in respect of what he had heard, and asked them what they resolved to do. They answered, “We mean here to die.” Then said Mr. Thomas Winter, “I will take such part as you do.” Then they all fell earnestly to their prayers, the Litanies and such like (as since some of the company affirmed that escaped taking, being none of the conspirators, but such as joined with them in the country); they also spent an hour in meditation, and divers of their company departed to shift for themselves, the house being not yet beset.

[^316: This must be in. Orig. in marg.]

[^317: Compare the German “Lohe,” a flame. Some English dictionaries give “Low,” a local and obsolete word, with the same meaning.—Ed.]

About an hour before mid-day the High Sheriff came with the forces of the country and beset the house. Mr. Thomas Winter going into the court of the house was shot into the shoulder with which he lost the use of his arm. The next shot was the elder Wright, who was stricken dead. After him the younger Wright, and fourthly Mr. Rookewood, but he was only wounded in four or five places, and so taken and afterwards put to death at London. So were also Mr. Thomas Winter and Mr. Grant and all the rest but Mr. Catesby and Mr. Percy, who resolved they would not be taken, but rather suffer death at that time in the field. Wherefore Mr. Catesby took from his neck a cross of gold which he always used to wear about him, and blessing himself with it and kissing it, showed it unto the people, protesting there solemnly before them all, it was only for the honour of the Cross, and the exaltation of that Faith which honoured the Cross, and for the saving of their souls in the same Faith, that had moved him to undertake the business; and sith he saw it was not God's will it should succeed in that manner they intended or at that time, he was willing and ready to give his life for the same cause, only he would not be taken by any, and against that only he would defend himself with his sword.[^318] This done, Mr. Catesby and Mr. Percy turned back to back, resolving to yield themselves to no man, but to death as to the messenger of God. None of their adversaries did come near them; but one fellow standing behind a tree with a musket shot them both with one bullet, and Mr. Catesby was shot almost dead, the other lived three or four days.[^319] Mr. Catesby being fallen to the ground, as they say, went upon his knees into the house, and there got a picture of our Blessed Lady in his arms (unto whom he was accustomed to be very devout), and so embracing and kissing the same he died.

[^318: He also protested there was no more the conspiracy than those who had there published themselves by that public rising in arms. Erased in Orig. This is not good to be in, because of Mr. Tresham, who was one, and not with them. In marg. in another hand.]

[^319: If he lived so many days, he should have carried from that place and examined, etc. In marg. in yet another hand.]

Some of the chiefest of them did think to have escaped, as Sir Everard Digby, Mr. Robert Winter, and Mr. Stephen Littleton; and these two last knowing the country better than the other, did indeed escape for the time.[^320] Sir Everard Digby thinking also to take that course, offered all his servants that they might take their horses and money and shift for themselves. But his page and one other said they would never leave him but against their will. Therefore being well mounted, they three went together, but they found the country so up on every side, and all drawing towards the place where the voice was the conspirators were beset, that it was not possible for them to pass or go unknown, especially Sir Everard Digby, being so noted a man for his stature and personage, and withal so well appointed as he was. Whereupon he did rather choose (after he had gained a little ground) to strike into a wood, and thought there in a dry pit to have staid with his horses until the company had been passed. But they tracked his horses unto the very pit side, and then cried out, “Here he is, here he is.” Sir Everard being altogether undaunted, answered, “Here he is indeed, what then?” and advanced his horse in the manner of curvetting (which he was expert in) and thought to have borne them over, and so to break from them, esteeming them to be but ten or twelve persons, whom he saw about the pit, and though he made them easily give way, yet then he saw above a hundred people hard by and coming upon him: so that seeing it in vain to resist, he willingly yielded himself to the likeliest man of the company, upon a desire he had to have some time before his death for his better preparation, and withal out of a desire (as it afterwards appeared) to have done some service to the Catholic cause by word, sith he saw he could not do it by the sword. For being then taken and carried up to London prisoner and to the Court, he made earnest request to have spoken with His Majesty if it might have been admitted, intending to lay down the causes so plainly which had moved them to this attempt, and withal how dangerous it was for His Majesty to take the course he did, as that he hoped to persuade at least some mitigation, if not toleration, for Catholics.

[^320: And got to some friends' houses, where they lived safe for a month or more, but afterwards were discovered and taken. Erased in Orig.]

But the Council knowing well how judicial a man he was, and how well able to work his intent with sound reasons, would not assent unto his desire, but sent him presently prisoner unto the Tower, where also all the rest of the conspirators that were taken at Mr. Littleton's in Staffordshire were presently lodged upon their bringing up, which was as soon as their hurts would give them leave to travel. So that only four were slain in the country, Mr. Robert Catesby, Mr. Thomas Percy, Mr. John Wright, and his brother, Christopher Wright. The rest were all put into the Tower for further trial according to law, which were these: Sir Everard Digby, Mr. Ambrose Rookewood, Mr. Thomas Winter, Mr. John Grant, Mr. Robert Keyes, Mr. Francis Tresham, and Mr. Guido Faulks, who were there before; unto them also were adjoined afterwards, Mr. Robert Winter and Mr. Stephen Littleton, who being discovered[^321] in one place where they had been at least a month, they went into a house of the Widow Littleton's a woman of great estate, and there were kept in a chamber by Humphrey Littleton, her alliance, she being then at London; but their being in that house was found out by the cook of the house, in the provision of meal, and so by him they were discovered, and taken by the next Justices and so carried up to London and laid with the rest in the Tower. All[^322] these prisoners were divers times examined, but only two of their examinations published in print, which were of Mr. Guido Faulks and Mr. Thomas Winter, both which agreed in one, only Mr. Winter's was the larger, and contained much of the matter which I have before expressed, concerning their first intention, the names and number of the conspirators, the course they took to keep it secret, their manner of proceeding in the whole, and their intention afterwards to set up one of the King's children, and with them the Catholic religion. And both in all their examinations and the whole process of the matter it appeared plainly they were all and the only conspirators. The rest of the Catholics were free, as shall more appear in the chapter following.[^323]

[^321: Let all this be in and stand for the end of this chapter, until you come to that which is blotted out. Orig. in marg.]

[^322: This must be in. Orig. in marg.]

[^323: All unto this place must be in. Orig. in marg. They affirmed constantly there were no other conspirators than were taken. And as for Priests, they did both then and at their death protest there was none in the action, insomuch that it was generally voiced and believed through England that there was no Priest accused or could be touched with the treason, which gave generally great satisfaction both to Catholics and others. And so in right it should still have continued; but the Puritans did much envy that they should be free from blame, upon whom they wished rather that all might light. And therefore they began to practise and work the contrary opinion, first in the King, and afterwards in public show unto the country, as shall afterwards appear. Erased in Orig.]

Chapter VIII. How Upon Examination Of The Prisoners It Was Apparent That No Other Catholics Could Be Touched With The Conspiracy. The Same Also Confirmed By His Majesty's Own Words, To The Great Comfort Of Catholics.

When all these conspirators were brought to the Tower (which is the ordinary prison for such as are found guilty or suspected of high treason, and especially for persons of account, or in causes of great moment), they were all severally and several times examined by the Lords of the Council, and then it was in vain for them either to hide the matter, which was apparently known in the great preparation of powder which had been found, or to conceal the persons or qualities of the conspirators, who had all published themselves in prosecuting their first intended treason with a second attempt of public rebellion. Therefore all did acknowledge the fact, though none would directly yield it to be an offence to God, though they said it was so unto their Prince and the present State of the country. Their examinations did all agree in all material points, and therefore two only were published in print, containing the substance of the rest. And indeed the sum of that which I have been able to say in this narration touching either their first intentions or the names or number of the conspirators, or concerning the course they took to keep the matter so absolutely secret, or, finally, touching the manner of their beginning and proceeding in the whole matter; for that (as I noted before) it being kept as such a vowed secret in the heads and hearts of so few, and those also afterwards apprehended before they could have means to declare the particulars in any private manner, therefore no more can be known of the matter or manner of this tragedy than is found or gathered out of their examinations. The effect whereof I have set down before, in prosecution of the story, and shall not need here to repeat.

But this they all agreed in, that no other Catholics were to be touched with the matter, nor had any ways assisted them therein, but those who were now well known to the whole realm by their public rising in arms, of which also the greatest part did but join with them in the second, and had not any knowledge at all of the first attempt. Hereupon it followed, that whereas at the first breaking out of this monstrous Plot most men according to their humour and aversion from Catholics and their religion, would give their censure, that sure many Papists would be touched with this matter, and especially the Priests no doubt were the devisers and incentors of this intended fiery treason. Now after all these prisoners had been often and seriously examined, their general voice was turned and their conceit changed, and it was as general a report both in London and through England, that not one Priest could be touched with the Plot, nor any other Catholics but those that were already taken, and some few others that were well known by their public rebellion, and were in chace in the country and much watch laid for them everywhere, with public proclamation and description of their persons, as is usual in such cases. This, you must think, was a great comfort unto Catholics in so great a distress; and this comfort was much increased also, when Catholics did see that His Majesty did free most of his Catholic subjects from imputation of this crime in his proclamation about this matter, dated the 7th of November, which was after the examination and confessions of Faulks; wherein naming eight principal heads or contrivers of this conspiracy, who had published themselves in the country.

For in that proclamation, though at the beginning out of his persuasion of a contrary religion, he do say that they were persons known to be so utterly corrupted with the superstition of the Romish religion, as seduced with the blindness thereof; yet afterwards in the body of the same proclamation he doth prudently and more equally distinguish between them and other Catholics, affirming that by good experience he was so well persuaded of the loyalty of divers of his said Catholic subjects, that he held himself assured they do as much abhor this detestable conspiracy as himself, and would be ready to do their best endeavours (though with expense of their blood) to suppress all attempts against his safety and the quiet of his State, and to discover whomsoever they should suspect to be of rebellious and traitorous disposition, &c. Which equanimity of His Majesty distinguishing between the guilty and the guiltless, did much edify and content all wise and grave men of what religion soever, who cannot but greatly detest and condemn the attempt, under what pretence, cause or intention soever, it were conceived.

And as the whole multitude of Catholics were free from all consent or knowledge thereof, and could not in justice be touched therewith, so much less the religion which they profess, which in her doctrine doth no ways allow or avow any such attempt, whatsoever the enemies thereof, and namely the Puritans, may persuade His Majesty to the contrary; as it appeared they began not long after to labour His Highness upon this occasion, to be so conceited of Catholics (if they were perfect Catholics indeed) and so much more of their religion; seeming to think it more likely in them that were better grounded and more exact professors of the same religion. To which effect were His Majesty's words in his public speech in the Parliament House not long after, in the hearing of all the Puritans,[^324] seeming desirous to give contentment to all parties. For first after all the conspirators had been thoroughly tried and examined in the Tower (as I have declared), and that it was now apparent by all the success of the matter, and by all their examinations, that not only the multitude of Catholics were clear, but also that there were no more to be touched than were already discovered, insomuch that the general voice and opinion of all men was changed, as is said before, then did His Majesty in his public speech confirm again his good opinion of his Catholic subjects in that behalf; but withal seemed to believe the Puritans further in their malicious reports of us and our minds, than upon due trial His Majesty will find to be true. For in the said speech after he had first given due thanks to God for his happy delivery from so great a danger, then he declared whom he took to be the practisers and plotters of this treason, and seeming to point as it were to the conspirators already discovered, those he showed to be men unto which he had not given any cause of disgust. “If, (saith he) these conspirators had only been bankrupt persons, or discontented upon occasion of any disgrace done unto them, this might have seemed to be but a work of revenge. But for my own part, as I scarcely ever knew any of them, so cannot they allege so much as a pretended cause of grief.[^325] And the wretch himself in hands doth confess that there was no cause moving him or them but merely and only religion.” Where by the way we may observe both out of the reason which His Majesty allegeth, and out of their own protestations, wherein they all agreed, that no particular grudge or respect to themselves was their motive to this action, but their zeal to the common cause, though not “secundum scientiam.”

[^324: Who had much laboured to possess the King with that opinion as being most for their advantage. Erased in Orig.]

[^325: By which we may gather that their grief and motives were chiefly for the common cause, as was gathered before out of their own words and protestations. Erased in Orig.]

Then His Majesty proceedeth in his speech, admiring “that Christian men and Englishmen, and one of them his sworn servant in an honourable place, should enter into such a practice, wherein, saith he, their following obstinacy is so joined to their former malice, as the fellow himself that is in hand cannot be moved to discover any signs or notes of repentance, except only that he doth not yet stand to avow that he repents for not being able to perform his intent” A great testimony being spoken by the King himself, both of the man's great courage, which could not be brought down with so great torments as he had then sustained, and besides of the great opinion he had in his deceived conscience that the thing was lawful, sith he would not even then repent that he had intended it, but only seemed no more to desire the thing itself, which he might also see God would not have go forward. And truly this testimony of His Majesty's words doth make me the rather to believe that of him which was reported by divers of credit, to wit, that at his apprehension he had a shirt of hair found upon his back when he was first searched.

[^326] It followeth then in the King's speech (after the rehearsing more at large the wonderful manner of his deliverance by his strange interpretation of the letter, as I set down before), then he cometh to declare that he doth not condemn his other Catholic subjects for the fault of those few, and laboureth to restrain the Puritans from that conceit; whereby it appears they had laboured also to put that opinion into His Majesty's head and heart against all Catholics, if his wisdom and upright judgment had not been the greater. “It resteth now (saith he) that I should shortly inform you what is to be done hereafter upon the occasion of this horrible and strange accident. As for your part that are my faithful and loving subjects of all degrees, I know that your hearts are so burnt up with zeal in this errant, and your tongues so ready to utter your dutiful affections, and your hands and feet so bent to concur in the execution thereof (for which, as I need not to spur you, so can I not but praise you for the same), as it may very well be possible that the zeal of your hearts shall make some of you in your speeches rashly to blame such as may be innocent of this attempt; but upon the other part I wish you to consider, that I would be sorry that any being innocent of this practice, either domestical or foreign, should receive blame or harm for the same. For although it cannot be denied, that it was the only blind superstition of their errors in religion that led them to this desperate device; yet doth it not follow that all professing that Romish religion were guilty of the same. For as it is true that no other sect of heretics, not excepting Turk, Jew, nor Pagan, no not even those of Calicut (who adore the devil), did ever maintain by the grounds of their religion that it was lawful or rather meritorious, as the Romish Catholic call it, to murder Princes or people, for quarrel of religion, &c.; yet it is true on the other side, that many honest men blinded peradventure with some opinions of Popery (as if they be not sound in the questions of the Real Presence, or in the number of the Sacraments, or some such School question), yet do they either not know, or at least not believe all the true grounds of Popery, which is indeed the Mystery of Iniquity. And therefore do we justly confess that many Papists, especially our forefathers, laying their only trust upon Christ His merits at their last breath, may be and oftentimes are saved; detesting in that point and thinking the cruelty of Puritans worthy of fire, that will admit no salvation to any Papist. I therefore thus do conclude this point, that as upon the one part many honest men seduced with some errors of Popery may yet remain good and faithful subjects; so upon the other part, none of those that truly know and believe the whole grounds and School conclusions of their doctrine, can ever prove either good Christians or good subjects,” &c.

[^326: The Puritans so ready to execute severity upon all Catholics that they were restrained by the King.]

[^327] These be the words of His Majesty's speech in Parliament,[^328] wherein we may observe two things. First, that the Puritans had laboured and in some sort prevailed with His Majesty to make him believe, that it is holden by the doctrine of Catholics lawful to kill and murder Princes, &c, wherein that they might the better persuade and work His Highness' mind to their opinion, or rather his opinion to their desire, they did set forth two pestilent books full of subtle falsehood, one of the which I had occasion before to write of, which was directed to that unlawful end to prove all Catholics traitors by the laws of the realm. The other was yet a more impudent and malicious book, entitled The Popish Positions, wherein by a number of Canons and sayings of Popes and Doctors, falsely alleged and sophistically inferred, the Puritans labour to prove that it is by the Catholic doctrine holden and approved for lawful to kill and murder Princes, &c., and therefore not possible they should be good subjects but traitors, and so to be esteemed and used. In which case I leave it to the reader's judgment what was the mark they shot at. But I may not leave him in that error (if by chance he be one that know not our opinions) that we either hold or teach so erroneous and wicked doctrine, as they would infer out of many places which themselves understand not, and others which they falsely allege. I will not stand to answer any particular of the book, which is not for this place, and shall be no doubt much better and more at large performed by others. But this I desire the reader to remember, that out of this very story, wherein yet there is a sorer proof against us in this point, so far as concerneth the only practice of a few, than can be equalled in the examples of many ages; yet doth it plainly appear that Catholics do hold and teach the very contrary, as if it please him to turn back unto the answer which Father Garnett gave unto Mr. Catesby in questions of the like kind but of far less moment, he shall plainly see. For although he was not demanded any such barbarous question as whether it were lawful to murder Kings (unto which his answer would have been quick and sharp no doubt, as becometh a Religious man, whose ears must be hedged about with thorns against any such traitorous tongues), but the demand being only this: “For whom it was lawful to make war and how far to proceed therein,” he showed that no war was lawful without authority, nor any authority able to give leave but from those that had the government of the commonwealth. His answer therefore was much contrary to this malicious inference of his untrue reporting enemies, although he then spoke unto a confident friend, where he feared no rehearsal of the matter; and to one also that he feared to be too forward in those causes, and therefore if he had been desirous to set him more forward in that mind, and had been of that opinion himself, or that opinion true and lawful to be practised, which our enemies slander us withal, surely he would then have delivered his mind plainly to that effect. But the truth is so far on the contrary side, that all Catholics received strict commandment from the See Apostolic, that in no case they should stir or attempt anything against His Majesty or the State, and this both from Pope Clement VIII. of pious memory, and from Paulus Vtus. that now sitteth in the Chair, who both before and since his assumption to that supreme dignity of governing the Church of Christ, hath showed himself most earnest to procure the quiet, safety, and security of our Sovereign, both by liking and allowing of the leagues that other Catholic Princes have made with him, as also by often intimation and signification into England both by letters and message, that no Catholic people should go about to interrupt or trouble the same by their impatient proceedings. This likewise was the commandment sent from the General of the Society and Father Persons to Father Garnett, as hath been showed before. This was also Father Garnett his practice and earnest endeavour, as may plainly be seen in his own letters before set down; and may be seen also in the proof and sequel of this business, sith it may plainly appear he prevailed much with all the best sort of Catholics in England, as his letters do also import that he hoped he should, whereas these conspirators rising in arms, and with protestation that they rise only for cause of religion, unto the which they were well known to be fervently addicted, and no light-headed or hare-brained persons, but men known to be full of valour and of wit, and esteemed also before this action by all that knew them well, to be full of virtue. Yea, although divers of them were much befriended and allied in those countries where they took arms, and the countries also very well stored with many Catholics of worth, yet for all this, so far had Father Garnett prevailed with them, or rather the commandment of His Holiness delivered by him, that none would or did come to help them, or offer to stand for the cause in that kind or course of forcible attempt. No, neither friends to their persons nor friends to their religion would either by themselves or their forces give them any help at all. And yet they sought it earnestly, insomuch that they sent Mr. Thomas Winter to one Catholic gentleman of a noble house and great account, and whose daughter also his brother, Mr. Robert Winter, had married, and yet this gentleman being a known and constant Catholic, and a man otherwise very stout and withal of great power in those parts, he was so far from helping or assisting them in any sort, that he would not so much as hear Mr. Winter speak, but caused his gates to be shut against him. And yet the said noble gentleman was afterwards in great trouble and had like to have lost all his estate, which is very great, upon presumption that he did bear some good will unto them. So that hereby it is most apparent, how contrary the doctrine and practice also both of Superiors and subjects in Catholic religion is from that which the Puritans did labour by their books to persuade, and it seems His Majesty was in part wrought to believe.

[^327: The first chief point of the King's speech.]

[^328: Concerning his opinion of his Catholic subjects. Erased in Orig.]

But whatsoever the Catholics do herein, it is well known that the Puritans do both hold it for sound doctrine, and are not ashamed to teach it as lawful and necessary, and to practise it also (not as these few Catholics did, out of their own opinion ill-applied, and blamed for it by all of their own side), but as proceeding out of their doctrine, yea and warranted by the same, or rather urged upon the people by the preachers of the said doctrine, for which they say they bring the Word in great plenty.

I will not here cite Luther and Calvin, who are very copious in this kind, and will be fittest for those to bring that answer the foresaid books. It sufficeth here to consider our home examples and that of the chief apostles and pillars of the religion now professed under His Majesty's name and authority in Scotland, to wit, John Knox, the first broacher and preacher thereof, and Buchanan's chief assistant therein, and master also and bringer up of His Majesty's person. Both which in their public writings do not only place the restraint, coaction, punishment, arraignment, condemnation, deposition, yea and execution also of Princes in the people's hands when they govern not well (according to their judgment), but further also do wish that public rewards should be appointed by the same people for such as kill tyrants, as commonly there are, say they, for those that kill wolves or bears or take their whelps. So they. Whereunto if we add these authors' own inference in the same places here quoted, which is, that when the people are negligent in punishing evil Princes, their particular ministers may cite them; yea, and by excommunication cast them into hell, and make them unworthy to enjoy life upon earth, as their own words are. By this doctrine, and by their practice according to the same (whereof His Majesty is best able to bear witness out of his own trial), the reader may judge how different the state of Princes' safety is under the one and the other doctrine and discipline, and from the one and the other sort of subjects. And by this I leave him to discern whether the Catholics or the Puritans deserve better to be compared with Turk, Jew, or Pagan, or the inhabitants of Calicut, in respect of cruelty or disobedience growing out of their doctrine.

And surely His Majesty was not ignorant of the mind and doctrine and manner of proceeding of the Puritans in this point; but out of his wisdom, he thought it best rather to please them for the time in seeming to believe what they had written of us than to rehearse their own doctrine, whereof he had tasted too much, knowing right well that their patience was not able to bear to be rubbed upon the back, which indeed was much galled in that kind of doctrine about government. So that herein we may think it pleased His Highness to practise[^329] that in this his grave and princely speech in the Parliament House, which sometimes before he had used to say in mirth, when he would show the difference between the Papists and Puritans, in matter of patient sufferance. For His Majesty would often affirm that he had in his realm two asses, an old ass and a young ass. The old ass, which was the Papist, would willingly and patiently bear what loads soever he laid upon his back; but the young ass, which was the Puritan, was so unruly, that if he laid the least burden upon his back, he would never leave wincing and flinging until he had gotten it off, and perhaps would do much harm in the meantime with his heels. And we must for this time bear with so much the more patience this imputation as a punishment for the ill desert of these few gentlemen, although it be most apparent that our doctrine and our general practice deserve much the contrary, which also His Majesty in the same speech doth seem to allow as true in the minds and manners of most of his Catholic subjects; and in that regard doth wisely and graciously restrain the too great forwardness and fury of the Puritans, which, he saith, he counteth worthy of fire, allowing the Catholics neither for saved souls in Heaven, nor good subjects in earth.

[^329: Upon this occasion of the disobedience in these few gentlemen. Erased in Orig.]

[^330] But yet whereas His Majesty doth distinguish between the learned and unlearned Papists, and seemeth to think those which know the less, and believe and follow the fewer of our grounds and points of doctrine, to be the better sort of Catholics, and more likely to be the better subjects and more obedient both to God in Heaven and to their Kings and Princes on earth: this is the second point I touched before, which I must grant I do not well understand. For being granted that some of our religion be good, and God's servants, and go to heaven, I do not see how it is possible that those who know and practise more of that with which the others were good, can thereby become the worse.

[^330: The second chief point of the King's speech.]

For as it is most assured, that none can have grace in this life, nor glory in the next without faith—“sine qua impossible est placere Deo:”[^331] so no faith but the true faith which Christ delivered to His Church, and the Apostles planted in His Church, can be this necessary foundation to this good estate of a soul either in grace or glory. “Fundamentum enim aliud nemo potest ponere praeter id quod positum est.”[^332] Therefore these simpler Catholics being saved must needs both have had faith, and that the true faith of Christ. Now I suppose the true faith of Christ can teach none to be disloyal. Again this faith of Christ, being but one (as there is but one Lord and one baptism), cannot be divided, or in part believed and followed and in part refused, “quam nisi quisque fideliter firmiterque crediderit, salvus esse non poterit, eamque nisi quis integram inviolatamque servaverit, absque dubio in æternum peribit.”[^333] So that the most simple Catholics both do and must believe and profess the same faith in all points which the learned do, although they are not bound explicite to know all particulars more than the articles of their Creed and the Sacraments and other needful helps to salvation which they are to use; for the rest it sufficeth they believe the Church in all things as being “Columna et firmamentum veritatis,”[^334] and the same also one article of their Creed, which all are bound both to believe and know; and so consequently the simpler sort believe implicite and virtually all that is generally taught and believed by School Doctors for matter of faith: and so their faith and the grounds of their faith being all one, can work no different effect. And if there should be any difference, methinks the better lot should not light to the share of the more simple, for then it would be good to be unskilful in the law and in the grounds of faith, contrary to that which God saith by His Prophet, “Conticuit populus meus, eo quod non habuerit scientiam: quia tu scientiam repulisti, repellam et ego,”[^335] &c. And this was the ordinary cavil against us in the late alteration of religion (though unjustly imposed), as though we had willingly kept the people in ignorance, and therefore would not permit them the Scriptures in English. But as reason did then, so since experience hath proved that was not the cause; but as nurses that feed their children, as St. Paul did his, first with milk and then with solid meat, so we. And this to prevent their danger, which since we see hath followed, that rule being neglected under pretence, forsooth, of remedying the ignorance which Papists were kept in. But if then the case of the ignorant had been the better, we had the more wrong to be blamed for doing the best. Finally, this faith which may and often hath saved some of the ignorant Papists; as it is but one, and must be entirely believed and professed, so it is also holy, as being the faith of Christ (as before I proved), and the foundation of that Church which is “una et sancta,” &c.: and being holy it cannot follow that the greater measure should hurt, where the less doth good; for as we see, if a little fire give warmth, a greater will give a greater heat, and the sun which giveth light being under a cloud, will shine more brightly when it is fully seen: so that the more virtue is in the agent, and the more the same is applied, the more is the same effect brought forth in the patient, unless it be “propter debilitatem organi,” as in our eye against the light of the sun when we gaze upon it, which defect is not in our soul, the same being made for God Himself as for the final end of man, and therefore capable still of more and more increase of grace, as we see in the Apostles, &c.; and as God saith by His Prophet, “Dilata os tuum et implebo illud.”[^336] Therefore it must needs follow that the more and more perfectly and exactly the rules and grounds of this holy faith are known, the more holy it doth make the knowers and believers and followers of the same. Neither can it possibly be otherwise; for as our Lord Himself saith, “Non potest arbor bona fructus malos facere.”

[^331: “Without faith it is impossible to please God” (Hebr. xi. 6).]

[^332: “For other foundation no man can lay but that which is laid” (1 Cor. iii. 11).]

[^333: “Which unless every one shall believe faithfully and firmly, he cannot be saved: and unless a man shall keep it whole and inviolate, without doubt he will perish for ever.”]

[^334: “The pillar and ground of the truth” (1 Tim. iii. 15).]

[^335: “My people have been silent because they had no knowledge; because thou hast rejected knowledge, I will reject thee” (Osee iv. 6).]

[^336: “Open thy mouth wide and I will fill it” (Ps. lxxx. 11).]

Well may it happen, and doth often (as His Majesty did wisely and truly note), that “particular men of all professions and religions have been, some thieves, some murderers, some traitors,” &c., but this then is contrary to their doctrine, if their doctrine be that good Tree of which our Saviour speaketh, and which He planted in His Church. For that being “Arbor bona non potest malos fructus facere,” where we must understand, “quatenus talis arbor.” The best tree that is hath some fruit that doth miscarry. Some are blasted in the bud, some shaken off with the wind, some pecked with birds, some with one mischance and some with another miscarrieth before it come to ripeness or perfection; but by these we never measure the goodness of the tree. But if we see an apple or apricock hang upon the tree of perfect colour, of just bigness and shape, so that we may see it is come to that perfection which the tree can naturally bring it unto, then according to the taste of the fruit, we judge the goodness of the tree. If then the fruit be sour, we call the tree a crab-tree; if bitter, so we also term the tree and say it is nought; and justly, being warranted by Him that made them, “Quia non potest arbor bona fructus malos facere, nec arbor mala fructus bonos facere.”[^337] So that here is the difference: an evil tree cannot bring forth good fruit, that is, neither grace nor glory can grow into a man's soul out of evil doctrine, and so that soul not possible to be saved, unless his branch be cut from his own root and grafted into the stock of the good tree to receive the juice and sap of the same, as St. Paul saith we Gentiles were into the trunk of the Jews' fruitful olive. On the contrary part, a good tree may have some miscarry, but then it is not long of the tree, but of other mischances. And so the Catholic doctrine being holy, and in this very point of obedience holy, as teaching that all subjects are bound to obey, not as Luther teacheth, for policy only, making all men equal and to have no superior but Christ; nor as I showed before out of Knox and Buchanan; but as the truth is, and as St. Paul teacheth, that there is distinction of degrees and the subjects bound to obey, and that not ad libitum, or outwardly only, “ad oculum servientes,”[^338] but in conscience and of necessity, “et tanquam Domino,” and as to our Lord Himself, to Whom we serve in obeying our superiors according to His commandment. This is the doctrine of the Holy Catholic Faith in this point, wherein although some may miscarry and take wrong courses, as these few of late did, following their own conceits and desires against the direction and wills of those who delivered the contrary doctrine (as hath been declared), yet this is no impeachment to the Tree, nor to the rest of the fruit. This act of theirs cannot be laid upon the doctrine which is holy and bringeth forth no disobedient fruit, but the contrary in great measure, and that so much the more in those that know more and are the more perfect in the grounds thereof, as being the fruit which this “Arbor bona” hath brought to best perfection.

[^337: “A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can an evil tree bring forth good fruit” (St. Matt. vii. 18).]

[^338: “Not serving to the eye ... but ... as to the Lord” (Col. iii. 22, 23; Eph. vi. 6).]

And this clearness and innocency touching this late attempt is not only thus apparently proved to be in the whole body of Catholics, but was then the general opinion of all, the Puritans excepted, who are ever ready to impugn “agnitam veritatem.” His Majesty, as you have seen, did partly affirm it and granted some other part, out of which you see it is convinced.

The prisoners being all at that time often and carefully examined, they affirmed constantly and jointly (though severally examined) that there were no other conspirators than were taken and publicly known. And as for Priests, they did both then and at their death protest there was none in the action: whereupon His Majesty in the whole course of his speech did only lay the fault upon them that were discovered, and did seem to excuse the rest, as you have heard. So that it was as generally, as justly believed and voiced through England, that other Catholics were all free, and no Priest at all accused or could be touched with the treason, which gave no small satisfaction both to Catholics and others. And so in right it should have continued. But the Puritans did much grieve and envy that those should be free from blame, upon whom they rather wished that all might light. And therefore they began to practise and work the contrary opinion, first in the King, and afterwards in public show unto the country, as shall appear in the next chapter.

Chapter IX. How The Fathers Of The Society Were By Industry Of The Heretics Drawn Into This Matter, To Incense The King Against Them, And For Them Against The Catholic Religion.

The Prophet doth in few words very fully express the desires and endeavours of such as are most guided by that spirit of pride, who is a professed enemy to God and to all good men. “Superbia eorum (saith he) qui te oderunt, ascendit semper.”[^339] As if he should say to Almighty God, not only the apostate Angel himself doth hate Thee, and all those for Thy sake whom he seeth Thee to love; but those also, who are full of his rising and resisting spirit, do still raise themselves against Thee and all Thine, but most against those whom they see Thee most to favour, or most to use and employ in Thy service. “Ascendit semper:” their spirit still fighteth against those whom at least they think the highest; although in this man's judgment often erreth, guessing by outward signs and not being able to search the heart of man, as He doth that is “Scrutator cordis et renum,” is therefore not able to judge, or their judgment to be taken for a certain proof, who be most in God's favour. But this their practice was plainly proved true in this present matter, whereof we have already treated and are as yet further to declare. For although we are to presume that His Majesty and the Council did proceed without passion in the matter, His Majesty having in many parts of his speech showed great equanimity and gracious opinion of his faithful Catholic subjects; yea, although His Highness did in the same speech correct the malice of Puritans against all Catholics in general, and did seek to repress their fury, which he saw so ready by word and action to oppress all Catholics upon this occasion offered, and to persecute the innocent multitude for the fault of a few: yet all this would not suffice to quench or assuage that fire (as the King did wisely observe and so express it in his speech) “with which their hearts were burnt up in this errant.” But as they had before determined, so they never left labouring, until they had wrought their will, and found out a device which they hoped would serve both to discredit and discourage Catholics; and beginning with some of the chiefest (as they thought), to proceed with better colour in punishing and persecuting of the rest.

[^339: “The pride of them that hate Thee ascendeth continually” (Ps. lxxiii. 23).]

Therefore whereas they did know very well how great esteem Catholics did generally make of the Fathers of the Society, and how much they did all for the most part (especially the better sort) rely upon their advice, reputing them to be men of great learning and judgment, and chiefly to be of approved virtue and spirit and both skill and experience in direction of souls: at these Fathers therefore did these Puritans resolve to level their first poisoned arrows, drawn out of the quiver of malice and shot from the bow of open injustice. But you must understand that this is not the first time they have aimed at this mark. No; they have been the men upon their eye of envy and spite hath ever been fixed since the first coming into England of those two famous men, Father Persons and blessed Father Campian, whose wisdom and spiritual instructions did so settle the hearts of Catholics in profession of their faith and whose exhortations both private and public did so kindle the zeal of devotion in all their minds, that the heretics might see another face of things in the persecuted state of the English Church, unto which afterwards being added the frequent and learned books of the one, and the challenged and performed disputation of the other (with all which they were convinced and confounded), these were motives sufficient to set malice on fire against them, and their Society for their sake, although they had found no like causes in their followers. But when they saw the like course to be continued; of exemplary virtue in Father Edmonds,[^340] of wise direction for progress in devotion in blessed Father Garnett, and of learned and spiritual books in blessed Father Southwell; also when they had tried the constancy of blessed Father Walpole and others to be inflexible and not to be drawn either by force or favour to their will, either against God's honour or the good of their neighbours; when they found that no one of the Society that were sent into England could ever be wrought by them neither by torments to yield in infirmity, nor yet by their subtle examinations to be overreached so far, no not so much as out of simplicity to accuse the least Catholic of his acquaintance, or so that any did come in trouble by any undiscreet answer of theirs.

[^340: Father William Weston was known by this name.—Ed.]

This long and sufficient trial hath made them so much malign the men of that Society, that they have never ceased labouring by one means or other to practise all hostility against them, as against their chief enemies. From hence hath proceeded the many slanders they have sought to publish of them: from hence the many false and foul reports in several kinds, which they by themselves have published in books and procured the like to be done by all others whom they could work unto their will, as namely those of Mr. Watson's writing, which he so much repented at his death, asking humble pardon both of God and of the Society for the many falsehoods and slanders fathered upon them in the same. From hence also did proceed the disobedience of some scholars against the Fathers in the Seminaries, secretly wrought in their minds by some instruments which the chief of these Puritans had employed to that end and purpose. Finally, from hence as from a troubled fountain have flowed all the streams of disgraces and disturbance and persecutions both against the Fathers themselves, and against the places where they have been presumed to be; yea, against all those who have been conceived to be favourers or well-willers to them: insomuch that in hatred of the Fathers, they would often show favour to the places where other Priests were taken. But if the Priest were a Jesuit, or but a friend of theirs, and one that were known to love them and to follow some of their spiritual courses, of which number I acknowledge myself to be; then should they and their receivers be sure to drink of the whip and to have summum jus instead of mercy. And as they at the first, when Seminary Priests did come in apace and did much good, made severe laws against them, punishing with pain of death the receivers of them, in all which they exempted the old Queen Mary Priests, because they saw the others, with their apostolical zeal and fervour, to work much greater effect in the minds of men; so now in the practice of those laws, they made a plain distinction between all Priests and Jesuits, whom they esteemed the greatest enemies to the proceeding and increase of heresy. And, but howsoever that is, would to God there were a divorce between them and heresy (unto which as yet their minds are so much wedded) undoubtedly they should then find they had no friends in the world more faithful, nor any that would be more ready to serve them in the service of God, than those whom now they hate and persecute so much, upon a contrary supposed ground, and the same most contrary to all truth and justice.

But their minds being in this manner settled upon their courses, and so grounded in opinion of chief resistance in the Fathers of the Society and by their means, they resolved absolutely by one means or other to effect that which they had so much desired and so many ways laboured for. And having this opportunity of colour offered, of this late attempt of the foresaid gentlemen, and knowing the same to be so odious not only to His Majesty and the Council, but in like manner to all the graver and better sort of Catholics both in England and elsewhere, they did imagine that if they could with any little show of pretence but father this matter upon those Fathers, they should by that means either have all, or at least some of their desires performed against them. For if they could not convince them to be guilty, yet because the matter was so hateful, they hoped either in the meantime whilst the matter were in handling and not fully cleared, to procure that they might be called out of England (which hath long time been a chief part of their desires) or at least to make many Catholics both shy of them and fearful to deal with them; whilst they by extraordinary and exquisite searching might apprehend the most of them. Or at the least, if none of these took effect (as thanks be to God, the contrary through God's providence was proved true), yet they might hereupon ground the pretence of just occasion to enact those severe laws against Catholics, which they had determined and prepared long before, as I showed in the former chapters.

Now therefore they began with all diligence to seek out likely pretences for their purpose: and it was no hard matter to find a staff to beat these dogs prepared by Christ, the Chief Shepherd, against the wolves that seek to devour His flock. For although they could not find in all the several examinations and confessions of the conspirators now in prison any little proof that they were in the Plot, but the contrary to be averred by them all with solemn protestation, yet they would have it suffice for a likelihood, that divers of these gentlemen were known unto divers of the Fathers and did sometimes come unto them for helps in the Sacraments. But so did many hundreds besides those gentlemen: and the Fathers dispense faithfully those divine mysteries to all, without exception of any, if they find them desirous and prepared, and without suspicion of any to bear undutiful minds.[^341] And if all the acquaintance, yea, or the familiar and inward friends unto these gentlemen should have been called in suspicion, not only many other Catholics in England, who neither are nor can be appeached of any such matter, should be convented, but as well, many of their own side, even some of those that sat as judges of them in the Parliament. Briefly, a bad excuse must stand for good, where no better can be found, and where the matter is resolved, and the parties condemned, before the proof can be found or the witnesses produced. But behold one single and he but a seeming witness was found, or rather was supposed to be found; for he also failed them, as I shall after declare.

[^341: To be lions within when they seem lambs without. Erased in Orig.]

There was one Bates a servant to Mr. Robert Catesby, of whom I made mention before; and this man having been employed by his master in the whole action for provision of powder, &c., and seeing himself so far in danger as the best, and yet not stored with so much grace and generous mind as was needful, nor perhaps entering the action with so seeming good motives as those gentlemen, who protested they did it merely for service to God and exaltation of religion; which it may be feared was not the motive to this fellow,[^342] being but a serving-man and never of any extraordinary capacity or devotion, but only trusty to his master, and belike, in respect of that employed. Therefore now when he saw his master gone, and all hopes by him failed, it may well be this wind would make his house to shake, if it were so built upon the sand; and when he saw likewise the likely storm coming of death which he was to expect, and of torments also in likelihood, if he did not seek to please: these loe were great temptations to the poor fellow and sufficient to toss and bend that reed which way the wind would blow; especially those fears being seconded with hopes of favour; which were also promised, as shall afterwards appear in his words, when he repented his frailty before his death. And so this[^343] fellow being earnestly urged by persons of great authority to confess some proofs or likelihood that the Jesuits were in this action, the poor man, of frailty and desire of life (as afterwards himself affirmed), told them that his master and another of those gentlemen had been not past a fortnight before the action broke out, at a nobleman's house where three Jesuits were, to wit, Father Henry Garnett, Father Osmund Tesimond, and Father John Gerard. He affirmed also that himself was sent with a letter by his master after they were up in arms, to a house in Warwickshire, where two of the said Jesuits were, vidlt., Father Garnett and Father Tesimond: and that Father Tesimond then went with him to his master, who was at Mr. Winter's with the rest of the company; but that the said Father Tesimond staid not with them, but rode presently away; yet did the poor fellow in his weakness yield so far as to say, that he thought Father Tesimond did know of the Plot, which yet he affirmed not of the other two.

[^342: Bates was a very honest and devout man. Orig. in marg. in another hand.]

[^343: Poor. Erased in Orig.]

This was the ground and the only foundation upon which they built that great and slanderous calumniation against all the Jesuits in England; whereas this was no proof at all, but only the single conceit of one simple man, and that only set down as a mere thought of his own head, and but of one of the three. For as for the seeing of them all three at my Lord Vaux's, it is certain that was not true. For I have inquired of the matter since, and so have found it, as I say, to be false; besides, Father Gerard in his letters sent unto the Council in his own purgation, did protest he had not seen that Bates of at least a twelve-month before, and these letters were so sent, as they were received by the Council, whilst Bates was living and in their hands. But Bates perhaps might think it true that he was there at that time, that being the place which was generally supposed to be his chief abode, and so esteemed by the Council themselves, as appeared by the several searches had been made there for him, before as well as after this false suspicion. Besides if he would be there at any time, Bates might think it likely he would not be absent at that time, when two aunts of the Lord Vaux that now is, were come thither in their return from a long journey, who had not been there together of many years before; especially because Bates did suppose that Father Garnett, who was the Superior of all the Society in England, did continue with those two sisters, and was then come with them unto the same house, as Bates did imagine, and that Father Tesimond also did meet him there. All which might be very likely, if Father Garnett did go along in that journey with those devout gentlewomen; for it might well be supposed Father Gerard would not then be missing, but would rather be there of purpose to give his Superior the best entertainment he could procure, and this, if it were so, was cause sufficient, without any thought of the other cause of meeting, which I have heard Father Gerard himself protest, he did not so much as imagine before the thing itself was known to all men. And as for Mr. Catesby his being there, he was near cousin both unto the same Lord Vaux, and his mother who kept the house, and to those two gentlewomen whom he met there at that time, as he had done in many other places, both before and since this conspiracy was dreamt of. And as for Sir Everard Digby, there was more occasion of his being there, and there at that time (as I have since learned), for that he was a near neighbour and a great and tried friend unto the same Lord Vaux and his mother, as it was very well known unto divers of the Council, and the same also allowed of and well liked by them, with whom he had dealt concerning the said Lord and his mother about a match that should have been between the Lord Chamberlain[^344] his daughter and the young Lord Vaux.

[^344: Earl of Suffolk. Erased in Orig.]

So that Sir Everard Digby had many serious occasions to come to my Lord Vaux's; and then in particular, as I have learned since, being come from his ancient house and chief living which lay in Rutlandshire, from whence he could not go unto the house[^345] where his wife and family lay, but he must pass by the door of my Lord Vaux his house, which also made him there an ordinary guest.

[^345: Of his ordinary abode. Erased in Orig.]

So that all this supposal had been nothing if it had been true; and as Bates neither did nor could affirm it to be true that the three Jesuits were there, but only that the two gentlewomen were there, taking their sister's house in their way at their return, and his master also, and Sir Everard Digby met them, of which one also came merely by chance; what the other did I know not. And whereas I say that Bates did not affirm this of the Jesuits, no, nor of their only being in the house, so absolutely as he did affirm that he afterwards saw Father Garnett and Father Tesimond in Warwickshire, shall appear in his own words, when I set down his letter, whereof I have the true copy.

But yet this doubtful and uncertain affirmation of his, which, if it had been most true and certain, had been also certain to be no proof at all or just cause of presumption, where there were so many other causes concurring which would have required the being of Father Gerard in that house at that time (if that were the place of his most residence), yet was this no cause made cause sufficient of great trouble to that noble family. For presently there was commission granted out for a most severe search to be made in that house of my Lord Vaux's, and also in another house of the said Lord's three miles off, lest perhaps Father Gerard might be kept there in that troublesome time. The commission was directed to the most forward Puritans of the country, with strict charge not only to search narrowly for the said Father, but whether they found him or not, to keep possession of the house and the keys of the rooms, until the Commissioners should have further order from the Council. All this and much more was performed in so strict manner as might be. For although the Lord Vaux and his mother were very much beloved and respected in all the country, he being the most ancient Baron and first in place of all the shire, and so linked to most houses of worth within the shire that it was hard to find any man of account therein that was not either akin or allied or a dear friend unto their house; yet all this notwithstanding, the search was most severe, as I have been credibly informed by those that were present. The house was beset with at least a hundred men, and those well appointed. The young Lord made no resistance, as having no cause to fear, but brought the Commissioners presently in to his mother, who delivered unto them all the keys of her house, and willed them to use their pleasure. They searched for two or three days continually, and searched with candles in cellars and several dark corners. They searched every cabinet and box in her own closet for letters, in hope to find some little scroll that might show Father Gerard had been an actor in this treason, or that she or her son had received some knowledge of it. But they found not with all this diligence the least tittle of advantage in the matter, insomuch that the chief man in commission for this search (though an earnest Puritan) yet sent a very full information unto the Council that he had found the house most clear, the young Lord and his mother very respective unto authority, admitting any kind of search or inquiry that he could desire and yet very confident in their own innocency; and that he found not any preparation in the house for war, or any show at all that they had the least knowledge of any such attempt intended.

Notwithstanding, this information sent after full trial made by search, the Council sent for the young Lord and his mother up to London presently, where they were both examined; the young Lord by my Lord Salisbury alone, who cleared himself so by his answer that he was no further restrained, but only commanded to stay in the city of London. His mother was examined before the whole Council, where she did clear herself fully from all cause of suspicion in that treason, and affirmed constantly, that although she were a firm Catholic, and so would live and die by the grace of God, yet that fact she did as much mislike and condemn as themselves; and that so she had been taught by those that had care of her soul. They urged her that she knew Father Gerard, and had received him many times into her house. She answered she hoped none could justly accuse her that she had received either him or any other Priest, and that she would not accuse herself, the same being a Penal Law. They insisted she was bound to tell of him, for that he was known to be a traitor and a chief plotter of this action. She answered with serious protestation, that she had never the least cause to think so of him (if she did know him, as they presupposed); and said that she had heard so much good of the man (though she did not know him) that she would pawn her whole estate, yea, and her life also, that he was not guilty of that Plot, nor justly to be touched with it. Then the Council produced a letter which she had written unto the Sheriff of Warwickshire, her cousin, for the delivery of two Priests, who were taken passing through the country after the stirs were begun, which letter the sheriff had sent unto the Council (more like a Puritan as he is, than a kinsman as he should be). This letter, said the Lords of the Council, being written for the delivery of Strange, the Jesuit (now in the Tower, and since very sore tortured, as I shall afterwards declare), and for another Priest, one of Blackwell the Archpriest his assistants, and the same also written in so earnest and effectual manner, doth convince you to be guilty of treason in that Statute of aiding Priests.[^346] She answered that she wrote for them indeed, and that she desired much to set them free, but she knew them not to be Priests, but took them for Catholic gentlemen that came sometimes to her house as others did, and looked nothing like Priests. Then finally, some of the Council said, that whereas she was now in the King's mercy to live or die, she should have her life and lose nothing of her estate, if she would tell where Gerard the Jesuit was to be found. She answered, she knew not; but if she did know she would not tell it them to save her life and many lives. “Why then,” said they, “Lady, you must die.” “Why then, I will die, my Lords,” said she, “for I will never do the other.” So they sent her away to prison, not to an ordinary gaol, but to a rich Alderman's house in London, where she was well respected, and yet kept so close that not her own son might come to see her, only she had a gentlewoman of her own to attend her. There were also divers of her servants committed to several prisons, and often and strictly examined with many menacings if they would not confess Father Gerard to have been at the Lord Vaux his house, but nothing could be wrung out of them. The house in the country was all this while watched within and without for nine or ten days together, that if Father Gerard were still in the house hid in any secret place, he either might be starved to death, or by famine forced to come out. And for two or three miles round about the house there was watch kept in the country, and all passengers examined in desire to find the said Father, but all in vain; for where God will protect, man's forces or policies are frustrate, “et deficient scrutantes scrutinio.”[^347]

[^346: So that you are now in the King's mercy. Erased in Orig.]

[^347: And searching they will fail in their search.]

Soon after this search was past, Father Gerard lying secretly in another country, and understanding how that house had been severely searched for him as for one of this conspiracy, he thought it fit and needful to show his innocency in the matter by a public letter, which he performed presently, and I have read the letter. It contained, first, some reasons why he did seek to clear himself, and that by the way of protestation, the matter being true and just and in re gravi. Then he did solemnly and seriously protest before God and all the Court of Heaven, that he was never privy to the matter, nor had heard so much as one word of that Plot of Powder before the thing itself was discovered and the knowledge thereof brought unto him by public fame; and that his meaning was, he had not known of it either in secret or otherwise, no, not so much as in confession. Also he did exclude all equivocation so far forth, that if he did in any sort equivocate in this protestation, he did yield himself as guilty of the whole both in the sight of God and men. Further he alleged divers reasons why it was not likely he should know thereof, as in respect of the badness of the matter, which he utterly disliked and condemned, no man more. In respect of his estate and the prohibition he had received from his Superiors, not to meddle with any State matters at all; and much less with any such outrageous attempt. Also, that the Council had tried him sufficiently in those matters in the time of Queen Elizabeth's reign, when they had him in their hands from three years and more, often labouring to have found him guilty, or to have him confess he had dealt in State matters; but he was ever found clear, insomuch that they could not produce the least word of his writing or witness against him in all that time of his imprisonment, nor find him guilty in the least point, although they put him to the uttermost trials to see whether force or favour would sooner prevail with him. Then further in this letter he alleged, that if in Queen Elizabeth's time it could not be proved he had meddled in any matters of State, much more it was to be presumed he would be far from dealing in this highest kind of treason, and that against this King, for whom it was well known his father had suffered and lost much, whereof it pleased His Majesty to take knowledge unto his brother at his first coming to the Crown. And lastly, he said he was so far from ever consenting or knowing of any such matter, that he offered freely, if either before his taking or after,[^348] it could be proved, that ever he had any kind of knowledge of that Plot of Powder, that then he would freely give them leave, whensoever it should please God to deliver him into their hands, to put him to all the torments could be imagined, and pull one piece of him from another, and withal that all men of what side or sect soever should then repute him as a perjured creature, and to have neither faith to God nor man. This was the effect of his letter in brief, the letter itself containing a sheet or two of paper, which letter being published in London, did give great satisfaction not only to Catholics (who could not easily believe such reports of him before) but even to the Protestants themselves. Yea, it was showed unto the King himself by an Earl in great favour with His Majesty, and His Highness for that time was very well satisfied therewith.

[^348: Whensoever it should please God to permit it. Erased in Orig.]

But notwithstanding this and the general opinion which most men conceived of his innocency, and although there were no proof at all or sufficient grounds to proceed against any of the rest, yet such was the settled resolution of some to bring them into the suspicion and slander of this treason, that they proposed it unto His Majesty as a thing very requisite, to have a public proclamation sent forth against the Jesuits, and first to begin with these three, meaning to bring in the rest also by degrees. The King referred the matter unto the Council, as his manner is. The cause was therefore discussed at the council-table, and being proposed by those that were of great authority in that place, it was not much gainsaid, at least for two of the three. But for the third, which was Father Gerard, it was answered by some, that there was no reason he should be put in the number; and one Earl at the table, being of great account both for wisdom and learning, said that sith Gerard had so fully cleared himself by so ample a protestation and was a gentleman, he thought it was very hard to lay so severe a punishment upon him, upon the single accusation of one witness, and he but a base fellow and in fear of his life. For it was then supposed that Bates did accuse all these three, and perhaps so proposed also to make the matter seem more justly grounded. But it was not so, as will appear in the words of Bates his letter hereafter. But neither this pious answer, nor truth itself, which I doubt not answered for all the three in the conscience of those that most furthered this cruel course, could anything at all prevail against the course which was before intended, insomuch that it was there resolved a proclamation should presently be sent forth against those three before named. Yea, and Father Gerard was put in the first place, as if he had been the principal person of the three, which though some do think to have been done only by the penner of the proclamation in respect of his blood or kindred in the world, which they (looking only with fleshly eyes) make more account of than of spiritual dignities; yet sure it was done of purpose, to make him the more odious thereby, and to hide the want of proof which they had against him: that when all men did see him set before the other two, whereof one was his Superior, and the other his ancient every way, they might the rather think there was some great matter found out against him. And so all men might be incensed the more to betray him or apprehend him, for that was the chief intention of the proclamation against all the three. And to that end in the proclamation, first the names of the persons and the nature of their supposed offence was set down; then a subtle inducement joined with a serious commandment unto all men to discover them and to help to apprehend them, unto which also was annexed large promises to those that should be found the particular instruments of their apprehension; and lastly, a severe protestation that whosoever should presume to be a harbourer, maintainer, or concealer of any of them, or should not do their best for their discovery or apprehension, that they should hope for no mercy, but that the laws should be most severely executed upon them, as upon persons no less pernicious than the actors and concealers of the main treason itself. In the end of all the three persons were described, that they might the better be known, by their stature, their colour, and countenance. By all which it may appear how violent a desire of their apprehension those had who procured the proclamation, as the most forcible and likely means to that effect. I pray God avert the violence of His justice from their souls, and send them to find mercy, when this forcible proceeding of theirs doth come to be examined. For otherwise a dreadful doom must be expected, “quia potentes potenter tormenta patientur: horrende et cito apparebit eis,”[^349] saith the wise man. I pray God they may prevent it, before it light upon them; otherwise this blow will hurt and wound the strikers much more than them against whom it was intended.[^350]

[^349: “Horribly and speedily will He appear to you, for a most severe judgment shall be for them that bear rule” (Wisd. vi. 6).]

[^350: One thing was observed by many at that time as markable in respect of the event, although the foresight were but casual, which was a prediction by one of their kind of prophets, one Gresham, a man of special fame amongst them for skill in astrology and making of almanacs, with certain predictions of events, not only of the weather, but of other accidental matters depending of man's free-will, and therefore far past his skill to divine of. Yet this man, in an almanac which he had set forth for that year of 1605, had assigned for every particular day some special event of things that should then happen. Amongst the rest, the mark which was set upon the day of the date of this proclamation, and in which it was published in London, was this, “Might against right;” which, seeing it was prepared and printed before the proclamation was thought of, it gave many cause to think that the pen of this man was guided by a better foresight than his own, and directed to set down the truth by the same power that could make the beast that Balaam rode upon to reprehend his master, and afterwards caused that covetous Prophet to bless the people of God and to foretell the truth, much against his own inclination and the intention of his coming. Erased in Orig.]

This proclamation being published in London, it was presently carried into all the market-towns of England (as the custom is) to be there proclaimed, to the end that all men taking notice of the names and the description of the persons of these three supposed traitors, it might be unpossible in any short time for any of them to pass safely through any town, but that they would be descried, discovered, and apprehended. So that they were now to be esteemed in all human likelihood, “tanquam oves occisionis,” like sheep designed to the slaughter. “Sed ira viri justitiam Dei non operatur;”[^351] and whom God will protect “nemo potest rapere de manu illius.”[^352] God provided for them such friends as knew their innocency well, and did most willingly adventure with them, not regarding the threats nor respecting the promises in the proclamation of a straw. Yea, I know where some of them refused the earnest entreaties of some persons of great worth instantly desiring to have had them in their houses. But they were well and safely provided for, for insomuch that until this day two of them were never in danger to fall into their enemies' hands, “sed liberati sunt de manu Herodis et de omni expectatione plebis Judæorum.”[^353] And the third was provided for sufficiently in a house of great safety, and where he might have continued long enough without danger, if he had not been by God's permission betrayed into their hands as his Master was; “sed advenerat hora ejus.”[^354] And he that betrayed him for “Quid vultis mihi dare?”[^355] had a halter for his pains, as Judas had, though he died not desperate, as Judas did, but very penitent for his fact, as the sequent chapters shall declare.

[^351: “For the anger of man worketh not the justice of God” (St. James i. 20).]

[^352: “No one can snatch them out of the hand of My Father” (St John i. 29).]

[^353: They are “delivered out of the hand of Herod, and from all the expectation of the people of the Jews” (Acts xii. 11).]

[^354: But his hour was come.]

[^355: “What will you give me?” (St. Matt. xxvi. 15).]

Chapter X. How Father Garnett, The Superior, Was Discovered And Taken In Worcestershire And Brought Up To London: And Of His First Entreaty And Examination.

When all England was filled with this new rumour by means of this proclamation, that now the Jesuits were also found to be in the Plot of Powder, and especially those three, who therefore were named and described and publicly proclaimed, though Catholics did generally believe the contrary of them, many being witnesses of their innocency, and of their often and earnest persuasions to peace and quietness, and to patience in this time of persecution. And though many wise men did say in their hearts, “Quam accusationem affertis adversus homines istos?”[^356] because they saw them traduced by the proclamation in general words as heinous traitors and contrivers of the whole Plot, and as men so proved to be by the several examinations of the prisoners in the Tower. But when they looked for these proofs in the examinations, even those which were chosen out amongst the rest to be published in print, as the chiefest and most fit for the full discovery of the whole Plot and the plotters of the same; and finding there no one word of any of them, but the contrary, in that the whole course of the matter was there seen to be carried by others there mentioned with all particulars of their proceedings. And hearing also by many certain reports that the prisoners did all protest there was no Priests at all guilty of the conspiracy, or that did any ways assist them therein: these and the like reasons did make the wiser and more reasonable sort, even of Protestants themselves, to think, as the truth was, “quod ex invidiâ tradidissent eos.”[^357]

[^356: “What accusation bring you against” these men? (St. John xviii. 29).]

[^357: “For envy they had delivered” them (St. Matt. xxvii. 18).]

But this was no impediment to the forcible authority of the proclamation, which went out under the King's name. And instead of particular accusations, it must suffice for the present, “quod si non essent hi malefactores, non tradidisset eos potestas regia;”[^358] and indeed other proofs they could have none at all against all the three neither then nor since, although against two of them, to wit, against Fathers Garnett and Tesimond,[^359] they framed afterwards some pretended matter in particular, much like to that whereof their Master was accused, “quod subverteret gentem et prohiberet tributum dari Cæsari:”[^360] “Sed sufficit discipulis ut sint sicut Magister eorum.”[^361] In the meantime Father Garnett thought best to retire himself to a house of great safety near unto the place where then he was, and there meant to lie private till the heat of this persecution were passed, and that it might be more safe travelling towards London where he meant to settle as he had been accustomed. The house was called Henlip, two miles distant from the city of Worcester, and so large and fair a house that it might be seen over great part of the country; and indeed it was so fair and commodious a house that it had often caused the owner of it much trouble, being an eyesore unto some Puritans of great wealth that were neighbours, within some miles, and nothing so well seated; who therefore procured often warrants to search that house in hope to find some Priest there, for which the house and the whole estate of the gentleman might be forfeited to the King, and so begged by them that were the causers and actors of such apprehension. But this being often essayed was never permitted by God until this time, “quæ erat hora illorum et potestas tenebrarum.”[^362]

[^358: If they were not malefactors, the royal power would not have delivered them up.]

[^359: Greenway. Erased in Orig.]

[^360: “Perverting our nation, and forbidding to give tribute to Cæsar” (St. Luke xxiii. 2).]

[^361: “It is enough for the disciple that he be as his Master” (St. Matt. x. 25).]

[^362: Which was their “hour and the power of darkness” (St. Luke xxii. 53).]

The proclamation being published containing, besides other persuasions, large promises to any that would be discoverers of any of the three; it happened that there was a gentleman called Humphrey Littleton, then fallen into trouble for receiving and concealing Mr. Robert Winter, one of the principal conspirators, and Mr. Stephen Littleton, his kinsman, who had joined himself unto the conspirators in rebellion. These two having escaped from this Stephen Littleton his house, where the rest of the conspirators were, some slain and some taken (as before hath been declared), and having escaped taking a month and more in several places where they lay hid, did finally come to this Humphrey Littleton for harbour: and he received them into his kinswoman's house, where he then lay, and kept them in his own chamber, where they were discovered and apprehended.[^363] Humphrey Littleton therefore being in danger of his life for having harboured them, and seeing so large promises of favour and rewards to those that would discover any of the three, thought to save himself from a temporal punishment by doing that which deserved an eternal pain, and sent up word unto the Council, that he had been not long before at Mr. Abington his house, called Henlip, before mentioned, where he heard a Jesuit preach called Ouldcorne, who did there reside for the most part, and where he thought also Garnett was to be found.

[^363: If this be particularly set down in the former chapter, it may be here left out. Orig. in marg. in another hand.]

Upon this information a warrant was presently despatched into the country to Sir Henry Bromley, a Knight, who was the next Justice of account unto Mr. Abington's house, and who was best experienced in searching of that house, which he had often performed before upon less likelihood of speeding than now he carried with him by means of this discovery, and the extraordinary authority he had to use his pleasure. He came therefore to the house on a Sunday morning very early, accompanied with above a hundred men with him, armed and furnished all “cum gladiis et fustibus”[^364] and with guns, and all kind of weapons, more fit for an army than an orderly search. And beginning to beat at the gate with great importunity to be let in presently, the Catholics within the house soon perceiving their intention, made all the haste possible to hide both the Priests and Church stuff, and books, and all such persons and things as belonged to the Priests, or might give cause of suspicion. In the meantime sending to the gates, as the custom is, to know the cause of their coming, and to keep them in talk with messages to and fro, from the master or mistress of the house, all to gain time, whilst they within were hiding all things in the most safe secret places they had.

[^364: “With swords and clubs” (St. Matt. xxvi. 47).]

But Sir Henry Bromley, impatient of this delay, caused the gates with great violence and force of men to be broken down, which yet he could not perform in so short a time (by reason they were very strong and answerable to the greatness of the house) before they within had made all safe which they would hide from this violent invasion. The Knight being entered by force, sent presently some principal persons with men enough to assist each of them into all the several parts of the house, as well to take possession of the same, as to make stay of any persons that were suspicious, and to be sure that nothing should then be hidden after his entry. Himself showed unto the mistress of the house (Mr. Abington himself being not then at home) his large commission to search, and the proclamation against those for whom he would search. She yielded to his authority, and gave him full power to do his will. He began after the accustomed manner, to go through all the rooms of the house, which were many and very large; he had with him Argus his eyes, many watchful and subtle companions, that would spy out the least advantage or cause of suspicion, and yet they searched and sounded every corner in that great house till they were all weary, and found no likelihood of finding that they came for, though they continued the daily search, and that with double diligence, all the whole week following. But upon Saturday two laymen that did usually attend upon the two Priests, and were hid in a place by themselves, being almost starved to death, came out of their own accord. For they had placed the Priests in another secret conveyance where there was some provision of victuals laid up for their sustenance a few days; but themselves were forced to go into a place on the sudden, which though it were safe from finding, yet had no provision at all to eat, and, as I have heard, they had but one apple between them in all those six or seven days. Whereupon they thought it best to come out; and yet not that so much to save themselves from death by famine, as for that they perceived the resolution of the searchers to be of staying in the house until they had either found or famished those whom they knew to be within. Therefore these two virtuous men being in hope that upon their taking, the searchers would be satisfied and depart (as either thinking them to be Priests, or that if there had been any more to be found, they would also have been forced to come out), this hope made them resolve to offer themselves to their enemies' hands, to save the lives of those whom they loved better than themselves. And their coming out was in such manner as could endanger nothing but themselves; one of the two especially, whose name was Nicholas Owen, abounding in discretion, which was the man that attended on Father Garnett, and is thought by all men to have been a Brother of the Society, of whom we shall have occasion to speak afterwards, for he suffered many and great torments, and is now a glorious martyr.

They therefore perceiving that some of the searchers did continually by turns watch and walk up and down in the room where they were hidden, which was a long and fair gallery four square, going round about the house, they watched their time when the searchers were furthest off, and came out so secretly and stilly, and shut the place again so finely, that they were not one whit heard or perceived when or where they came out, and so they walked in the gallery towards the door, which they thought belike to have found open. But the searchers being turned back in their walk, and perceiving two strange men to be there, whom they had not seen before, presently ran unto them, and asked what they were. They answered they were men that were in the house, and would be content to depart if it pleased them. The others asked whether they were Priests: they answered they were Catholics, and that further they would not answer, being no doubt desirous to be taken for such, the better to satisfy the insatiable mind of those blood-suckers. Then being asked where they had been all that while, they answered they had hid themselves, being Catholics, to avoid taking. And being urged to tell or show the place where, they absolutely refused.

But the searchers knowing well that it must needs be in the gallery by all circumstances, began afresh to search more violently than ever, and to break down the wainscot with which the gallery was lined, and the walls also in a number of places. And so they continued with all violence for five or six days after, and leaving no place untried in so great leisure as they had, it pleased God to end the misery in which they kept those two good Fathers by their so long and strait inclosure, and to deliver them “in manus quærentium animam illorum,”[^365] by permitting the searchers at last to light upon the place itself, where they had been hid so many days, “sustentati aquâ, angustiæ et pane tribulationis.”[^366] For the Fathers were resolved (as since I have been informed) there to have ended their days (which could not much longer have continued, the uneasiness of the room and their slender provision considered) rather than by coming out to have endangered their friends in whose house they had been so charitably entreated. But it was God's will to have their great patience and many virtues better known by their public sufferance of violent death, than it could have been if they had been in that manner privately pined up in a corner. The searchers therefore having found and entered the secret place, they took out the two Fathers out of their close and painful prison, and they seized upon such Church stuff and books as were also laid up in the same place, which had made the room more strait and uneasy for the Fathers than otherwise it would have been. When the Fathers were taken, they soon knew who Father Ouldcorne was, because he had continued in that country many years and was well known and highly respected by most of the Catholics in all those parts.

[^365: Into the hands of those that sought their life.]

[^366: Fed “with bread of affliction and water of distress” (3 Kings xxii. 27).]

He had also been often seen by many heretics of the country, and was once in their hands before in Queen Elizabeth's time, taken on the sudden by some that came to search the house, as he was walking with another gentleman in the garden. But then out of his ready wit he escaped their hands; for coming with the searchers to the door, which went of the parlour into the garden, and finding it locked (which it is like the servants had done after they perceived the search, because they would have respite to pull down the altar and to hide the Church stuff and other things of peril), Father Ouldcorne, therefore, finding this door shut, called the servants hastily, as if he did reprehend them for keeping out the Queen's officers, and when they came to open the door he stept in first, as if he did continue his speech of finding fault with their long stay, and suddenly clapt to the door upon the searchers, leaving them shut out and in the garden with the other gentleman; himself presently got into a secret place, perhaps the same which now was found, though then they could not find neither it nor the man again, though they sought him long and with great diligence. And the like strange escapes had happened to Father Garnett often, though in other manner.

And so we see, that when God will protect, he can hide a Felix between two walls, and make spiders His workmen to cover the entry with their webs. And again, when it is His pleasure to deliver up His servants to their last conflicts, no secret, no hide, no defence shall serve; but He will deliver them like sheep to the devouring of wolves, when He hath ordained them to so high an honour, as to suffer for His holy name, “ut simul compatiantur in hoc sæculo, qui conregnaturi sunt in futuro.”[^367] So it fell out to these two holy men, who after they had spent so many years in the gaining of souls, labouring both faithfully and fruitfully in God's vineyard, so that they might say with the blessed Apostle, “Bonum certamen certavimus, cursum consummavimus, fidem servavimus:”[^368] what was now remaining but that they should be called by the just Judge to receive “illam coronam justitiæ quæ reposita erat illis,”[^369] and which therefore the Apostle doth not only appropriate to himself, but “iis etiam qui diligunt adventum Christi,” which truly was performed by these two in great measure, as both in their life and at their death they showed abundantly. Thus therefore Father Garnett and Father Ouldcorne being taken, and Father Ouldcorne soon known who he was, they laboured much to know whether the other were Father Garnett or no, and though they brought divers unto him to see if they did know him, yet they could find none for a good while that could and would discover who he was, until at last one poor man was brought, who had drunk too much of that cup of contradiction with which the craft of heresy hath sought of late to infect the minds of some of the weaker sort, thereby to divide, and so to destroy the kingdom of faith in our country; and this poor man, I hope rather out of simplicity than malice, took knowledge of him, having known him before and been beholden to him, and called him both by his own name Garnett, and by other names that he had known him to go by, by which he was also described in the proclamation. And this silly man did utter it with a kind of spleen, as seeming to hope that now the Jesuits would bear less sway than he thought they had done. It is thought he hoped for some favour from the Council for this his good service unto them (though a Priest, and then a prisoner in Worcester); but I cannot hear that he reaped any fruit besides a wounded conscience “ex hâc delatione et accusatione fratris sui;”[^370] and Father Garnett's answer unto him was with great mildness and charity, according to his custom. Sir Henry Bromley now having what he desired, presently despatched posts unto the Council with this news, and kept the prisoners at his own house in the meantime until he might receive further order.

[^367: That they may suffer together in this world, who are to reign together in the world to come.]

[^368: We “have fought a good fight,” we “have finished the course,” we “have kept the faith” (2 Tim. iv. 7).]

[^369: The crown of justice which was laid up for them, and for those also who love the coming of Christ.]

[^370: From this delation and accusation of his brother.]

Unto these foresaid prisoners, Mr. Thomas Abington, the master of the house where they were taken, was also now adjoined, who came home to his own house two days after the search began, and was presently apprehended, that he might be in safety if any of these supposed traitors should chance to be taken in his house: because then by the laws he loseth both life and living. Sir Henry Bromley soon after receiving order from the Council to bring up Father Garnett and Father Ouldcorne with a good guard and strength to London, he performed presently their commandment, and went towards London attended with a great number of horses for the more safe custody of his charge. But the more he conversed with Father Garnett, the more he grew in estimation of him, and the more he showed in all things to respect him, although the man be otherwise a very earnest Puritan, and one of the forwardest that way of all Worcestershire. It happened by the way that the Minister who went with Sir Henry Bromley as his chaplain or preacher, seeing Father Garnett so modest and to speak so little, especially of matters of controversy, thought belike that he had been utterly unskilful in them, and desirous to get himself some credit in that kind, began to provoke Father Garnett to the combat; but Father Garnett, loth to give offence unto any, and esteeming the example of modesty more fruitful to a proud heretic than to contend with one so likely to resist the known truth, did once or twice put him off with a mild answer, showing only what the other should believe in such a case, and forbearing to allege any further reasons. Whereupon the heretic grew more insolent (as their custom is), and then began in sort to triumph in the hearing of others, which Father Garnett perceiving, and then doubting that his good meaning would be so easily discerned by his silence as misconstrued, without giving further answer to the Minister, he hastened his horse a little to overtake Sir Henry Bromley that rode before, and told him how his Minister had divers times provoked him to disputation, which he had purposely forborne, being loth to give offence unto him in whose custody now he was; and partly also, because he knew such disputations to be often fruitless where there is no judge of authority to restrain the subdued party from entering into terms of blasphemy and such like, which himself was not willing to hear, and therefore thought it better in such a case to be silent. But that if it pleased Sir Henry to hear the one and restrain the other in case it should be offered, he then for his part was very ready to give his Minister satisfaction to anything he would or could propound. Sir Henry commended very much his wisdom and government in the manner of his proceeding, and called the Minister presently, willing him to propound all things freely that he would, but yet with modesty. So the Minister began to discourse after their diffuse manner, producing many things not digested into any good method, nor founded upon any sure grounds of faith or learning. Father Garnett suffered him to speak his fill, as long as he seemed to continue in one matter, and then desired leave to speak. Then he in few words and excellent order related the substance of all that the other had said, and then repelled it with so substantial grounds, and with such demonstration of learning, and that even in those kinds which they most esteem and stand upon, which is the Scriptures and Tongues, that it put the Minister to silence and the Knight to great admiration, and all the audience were so satisfied both with his modesty and profound learning as it was reported presently by them all over London, to the great commendation of the good Father. But Sir Henry Bromley did seem so greatly to admire and affect him, that he affirmed to divers gentlemen of account, when he came to London, that he never in his life met the like man to Mr. Garnett either for modesty, wisdom, or learning, and that he would kneel before the King to save his life, if he were not found guilty of the Powder.

When they were come to London, the two Fathers were first committed close prisoners to the Gatehouse, their two servants to other prisons. When Father Garnett was carried into the prison, there stood a great number of prisoners at the gate expecting to see him as he passed, whom he seeing, asked aloud, “Is there any of you that be in for the Catholic faith?” And divers Catholics answering, “Yes, yes, we are Catholics, and prisoners for our conscience,” “Then,” said he, “I am your fellow.” So he was locked up in a chamber.

And it was two days after before he was examined, whereof the reason was guessed to be in that the Council, hearing so much fame of his virtue, gravity, and learning, and knowing well how much he was respected by many great persons, and esteemed also by the Ambassadors of the Catholic Princes then residing in London, it made them very wary, and to deliberate much how to proceed with him, and would not call him to examination before they had informed themselves of as much as they could learn of his words and carriage at his taking and bringing up to London, many of which (to our great grief and loss) are unknown to us; for that the three that were taken and brought up with him are all put to death, and were kept close until their death, and the times also have been so troublesome since, that we could not have such means as we desire to meet and talk with those that were eyewitnesses of many notable accidents, which we hope to do hereafter, and to have many things brought to light which will be greatly to God's glory and all our comfort.

The third or fourth day after Father Garnett was committed to the Gatehouse he was sent for to be examined by five or six of the Privy Council, at which time, as ever after, they used him with great respect, unusual from meaner Commissioners than the Privy Council when Priests are examined, and especially those of the Society, whom, as being more hated by them, they are accustomed to revile with many bitter and disgraceful terms, whereof traitor is the least. But to Father Garnett the contrary was so far used that the Lords themselves would seldom speak unto him but they would put off their hat, and sometimes hold it off a good while, and they did usually call him Mr. Garnett at every word. Of this his first examination we have not the particular; but this only in general, that he answered so to all their questions that he gave them great satisfaction, and they after his departure gave him great commendation. Yea, one of the Council said, “he could not be misliked but for matter of doctrine only. As for the Powder he was clear of it.” So he was sent back to the Gatehouse for the time. But that time was very short, for he was soon after lodged in a stronger hold and in a straiter prison, where neither any that wished him well could come near him to understand how he was used, and where there wanted not instruments full of subtlety and cruel hatred against him, who would be sure to use him far otherwise than so mild a disposition and so worthy a man deserved.

Chapter XI. Of Father Garnett, His Carriage To The Tower And Subtle Usage There. Also Of The Usage Of Fr. Ouldcorne And Nicholas Owen, Ralph, And John Grisoll In The Same Place.

The expectation of this matter touching Father Garnett was great in every place, and the conceits of men very diverse and their discourses different what would become of so notable a man, being so famous for learning and piety and modesty as that his very enemies could speak no other but much good of him, unless they would so apparently wrong their judgments by judging contrary to the sight of all men. Some thought he should have favour, because they saw him used with such respect; some deemed it most likely they meant to permit his friends to redeem his life, as not finding sufficient pretence to put him to death, and therefore better to gratify some courtier with that which would be given for his life; in which hope I know one devout gentlewoman who offered 500l. as a fee to a courtier, that was very likely to obtain it if that had been their intention. Others judged this stay that was made of sending him to the Tower was but to give such hope to Catholics, and to see who would make suit for him in any kind; others, again, that it was done to try his constancy first by fair means, meaning afterwards to make trial of him by contrary usage, if that would not serve the turn. Briefly, the general report was that he was free from the Plot, and not to be touched with this conspiracy, which even Protestants affirmed to be most likely, in that he was not accused by any of the conspirators, as might be easily seen in their printed examinations, for that above all the rest would have been printed, if by favour or force or fear it could have been wrung out of them. Now as for Catholics, it was generally their opinion that he was innocent, for they knew very well he could not be guilty who had so often and so effectually laboured to stay them from all attempts or disobedience, though in matters of much less moment than this so cruel intention against the Parliament House.

But whilst all London and England was full of expectation what issue this cause would have, and every man gave his judgment of the matter according to his several humour and opinion, that course was taken which was from the first intended, and he was delivered up to the Lieutenant of the Tower, a fit instrument for such a purpose, as being a man most pliable to the will of those that had no will to do Father Garnett good. And the man's mind and manner of proceeding may be seen by his first salutation to Father Garnett when he was brought into the Tower, for presently he began to revile him, saying “he was a plotter of all treasons.” But Father Garnett gave him no answer, and being demanded why he did not answer to those accusing words, he said “he was not moved with his words, for Christ his Master had taught him by His own example to bear quietly such contumely.”

His lodging and first usage there was not evil in exterior things (supposing the condition of the place), which doth allow no bed or any such provision to any prisoner but such as himself doth provide from his friends abroad; which help, until it be procured, a prisoner there may by favour have some straw to lie upon, and that was Father Garnett his couch until such necessaries could be sent unto him, which in his case could hardly be procured without danger to the senders, nor but by divers circumstances. First he was to send to some known prisoner or notorious Catholic, not as acquainted with him, but as by request in the way of charity. Then that party did send unto his friends, and after that it was not long in doing, but yet all done with great circumspection, as not doubting but all those that brought such things to that Catholic's house that must seem to send them, would be watched narrowly, and perhaps dogged to their home, which is an ordinary practice in all such cases.

Being now settled in the Tower, the Council came thither to examine him, but found him always the same man, both constant in his faith and function, and faithful to his friends. For though they pretended they would not deal with him in any matter concerning his Priesthood (desiring, indeed, to have his case esteemed different from others against whom they had formerly proceeded), yet were many questions such as if he had answered either weakly or unwisely he must needs have brought many of his friends to great trouble; as, where he had lived for a long time, how he had been maintained, what places he was at in that last journey, what company he had met at the places which they affirmed he did stay in, and finally, whom he knew or had had any dealings withal. But he quit himself so wisely, and answered so resolutely in them all, as did sufficiently declare he neither could lawfully, nor would upon any condition detect others, knowing nothing by them but the exercise of Catholic religion and practice of virtue. Finally, there was not any whosoever of high or low degree that came in trouble by his default or oversight. There were also many occasions offered in those several examinations of showing his skill and knowledge in matters of learning. In particular for matter of equivocation, wherein he was much and often urged, and ever gave them such satisfaction as in reason they could wish no more. The particulars of divers such-like things we cannot as yet procure, they are kept so close (as commonly it is most done where they find least advantage); only that matter of equivocation being spoken of again at the bar by Mr. Attorney,[^371] then he referred to the former full satisfaction he had given them in his several examinations, though there again he repeated some points thereof briefly, as shall appear when we come to handle his arraignment.

[^371: Who must needs have a fling at it, because his place was not to speak much before, when the Council did examine him. Erased in Orig.]

The Council, finding that no advantage was to be gotten of him in his examinations, either against himself or others in this chief matter, they committed the care and charge of proceeding with him in that kind unto the Lord Chief Justice and the Attorney-General, to wit, Popham and Coke, both professed enemies to Catholics and their religion, who were so forward or rather so desirous to undertake the business, that (as it is said) they offered, if they might have their full scope to deal with him as they thought good, they would undertake to prove him guilty in the Plot of Powder. I pray God, that of the Prophet David be not proved against them both, “Veloces pedes eorum ad effundendum sanguinem,”[^372] when they shall be cited to a higher Tribunal, where neither the one shall plead nor the other be judge, but both be judged “secundum mensuram quâ mensi fuerint.”[^373]

[^372: “Their feet are swift to shed blood” (Psalm xiii. 3).]

[^373: According to the measure they have meted.]

Father Garnett was delivered over to their pleasure,[^374] and it pleased them to examine him very often. In all which, though they found no advantage at all, yet, after three or four examinations, they were so bold as to give it out that he had confessed all. But this was for another end. For hereupon presently the Attorney spake in the Parliament House to have eight Jesuits condemned of this treason by the High Court of Parliament, vidlt., Garnett, Hall, Greenway, Gerard, Hamon, Westmoreland (there being no such of the Society), Cresswell, and Baldwin. But the Parliament refused to condemn these men without better proof of their being guilty, and therefore willed the Attorney (seeing he had Garnett's examinations) to lay down the next day the proofs before them, which he promised to do in so clear manner as their lordships should rest satisfied of their guiltiness, and that by Garnett's own confession. At the time appointed he brings his proofs, which all proved no confession of Father Garnett (as he had promised), and indeed nothing else but mere conjectures, imaginations, and inferences of his own, and that with so little colour of likely truth as no man applauded the motion, although there were very many that were no friends to the parties accused (to speak the least), and so Mr. Attorney his motion died, and was never after revived. Yea, a nobleman coming from the Parliament at that time, said to his friend, that these lawyers were so accustomed to lie that they could say truth in no place. But indeed Mr. Attorney must be excused for this time, the cause and case being very particular and a thing much sought for and long desired; and if it could have been thus huddled up without further examination, that so many of the Society might have stood convicted by Act of Parliament, it would have been (as they well hoped) a stain of record to the whole Society. But it pleased God otherwise to afflict and exercise his servants at that time “et infatuavit Deus consilium Achitophel.”[^375] I wish him from my heart a better end than Achitophel had, though his device and advice in this matter was of like malice. There were also some questions sent unto Father Garnett from the Parliament itself, and he answered to all their demands by writing in such sort as gave good satisfaction.

[^374: As Job to the accusing enemy, to persecute by bloody interrogations and other vexations also, as they should find it needful, reserving his life. Erased in Orig.]

[^375: And God infatuated “the counsel of Achitophel” (2 Kings xv. 31).]

The Chief Justice and Attorney, in the meantime, did often visit Father Garnett, but not in that manner that they may expect to hear for their labour, “In carcere eram et visitastis Me.”[^376] They did daily vex him with subtle examinations and cruel interrogations, but finding they could win nothing by these means, they devised, by treacherous stratagems, to discover the secrets of his heart, if any were concealed by him of which they might take advantage. And to this end caused the keeper that had particular charge to keep his prison close and surely locked, and who alone was admitted to come unto him and to bring him his meat and other necessaries which he wanted. This man was directed to feign himself much moved with Father Garnett his behaviour and words (as, indeed, they were sufficient to move a better and wiser man than him that had not been without grace), and to pretend that he began to be much inclined and almost won to the Catholic faith, and, in the meantime, to show himself very friendly, and promise to be faithful to Father Garnett in anything wherein he might do him service. And the fellow was so cunning in this art of cozenage, and set so fair a gilt upon his copper, that the good Father, being full of charity, “quæ omnia credit et omnia sperat,”[^377] did hope the best of his mind, though he meant not to trust him so far as might greatly endanger either himself or others until he had better trial. But yet he made use of his offer so far as to send by him some notes of ordinary matters (as the fellow might think); first unto a prisoner in the Gatehouse, a virtuous Priest and his kinsman of his own name, unto whom he sent a short letter concerning some necessaries that he wanted, which letter being written with ordinary ink, he wrote besides in the margent and in the free parts of the paper some other things with the juice of orange, which could not be seen without holding to the fire, and would not have been suspected if the letter had only by casualty come to light. But this faithless messenger, opposing his malice to the Father's charity, carried the letter presently to be scanned, which imported (besides the writing in black) a brief relation of the Father's estate, the effect of his examination, and that he was so clear of the Powder that the same could not be proved against him. When this letter was thus read by warming at the fire, because it could not then be delivered to the Priest, they therefore counterfeited the Father's hand and sent it to Mr. Garnett in the Gatehouse, to deceive him also and to make him to return answer to the Father, that so he might think himself secure, and be emboldened to commit yet further trust unto this false messenger.[^378]

[^376: “I was in prison and you came to Me” (St. Matt. xxv. 36).]

[^377: “Which believeth all things, hopeth all things” (1 Cor. xiii. 7).]

[^378: This letter was so cunningly counterfeited that it could not be distinguished from Fr. Garnett his own hand, and it was signed also and so licensed to pass with the lieutenant his brand unto it. Yet all such necessaries as the Father writ for and the other sent were seized upon by the Lieutenant, and the Priest himself brought after in great trouble for returning this charitable answer. Erased in Orig.]

Then the Father, knowing how great care his friends abroad had of him, hoped he might use this man in like manner unto Mrs. Ann Vaux, a noble gentlewoman, and aunt unto the Baron I had occasion to speak of in the former chapters, who had for a long time showed great devotion and charity, serving Christ in His servants, much like, in her intended course, to those holy women of Matt. 27. whom the Evangelist speaketh, “Quæ secutæ sunt Jesum a Galilæa ministrantes ei.”[^379] This gentlewoman, out of her great and faithful charity to Father Garnett, followed him, indeed, not only when she might with liberty enjoy the comfort of his spiritual and fatherly counsel, but also with great constancy and an undaunted mind, seeking by all means possible how she might assist him in his troubles. She therefore, being most desirous to perform all friendly offices to Father Garnett, and, as charity is ever more careful of another's want than fearful of their own danger, and more solicitous to provide for the one than to prevent the other: understanding that Mr. Garnett in the Gatehouse had received a letter safely (as it was thought) by the means of this keeper, she procured to speak with the man, and finding by all outward signs that he did much affect the good Father (whom she well knew to deserve so much affection), she thought she might be bold to send unto her good Father by him. And so she did, desiring to know what he wanted, and what she might perform to procure him any comfort. So that under hope of this safe means there passed divers letters between them by this keeper, all which were first delivered by him to those that had employed him in that bad office; who procured the letters to be so finely counterfeited, that being delivered they were received on both sides for the true hands of the first writers. And so their trust was deceived on both sides, and their letters sent by so false a messenger were continually read, which they thought had passed so safely. By which train they afterwards entrapped the gentlewoman and bred her trouble, as I will declare in his place.

[^379: “Who had followed Jesus from Galilee, ministering unto Him” (St. Matt. xxvii. 55).]

But in the meantime, finding nothing by all this that might touch Father Garnett in that degree which they most desired (there passing nothing in those letters but either spiritual comforts from the good Father, or relation of his estate and examinations, and how he would have some matters disposed of which belonged to his charge, and which he had not means before to give order for, in respect of the late great troubles which had happened); therefore, this not succeeding as yet to their full desire, though they kept this still on foot, yet they invented and put in practice another subtle craft, so much further from suspicion as it was nearer home, where the Father might to his thinking freely speak unto his friend without fear that his words should come to scanning, which letters are often subject unto.

[^380] To this end they placed Father Ouldcorne in a chamber near unto Father Garnett. And one time this sly companion and cunning or rather cozening keeper, making show of great love to Father Garnett, told him there was a thing wherein he knew the Father would take great comfort, and which he would be willing to grant (as desiring to do him any service), but that he durst never as yet tell him of it, least it should be espied by others, and then he was undone. And this was, forsooth, that he might at some convenient times come to speak with Father Ouldcorne; and that he would willingly grant them both this favour, so that Father Garnett would promise never to disclose it, and give the like charge unto Father Ouldcorne. This being promised, the fellow showed Father Garnett the way unto the wall of Father Ouldcorne's chamber, wherein there was a cleft by which they might well speak together and hear one the other, if they did speak of any loudness. This was accepted by both the Fathers as a great courtesy; as indeed it is no small comfort in such a place to men of their quality, if this honey had not been stuffed with too much gall. But this dogged fellow dogged them so closely, as they could never meet but he would be of the council, though unseen by them; for the place was purposely so contrived as that the sound of their words must needs be carried to another place not far off, where this keeper would stand and some other with him, to have a double witness in their double dealing. Whereupon it happened not long after that these two Fathers, thinking themselves secure in this point, took some fit time (as they thought) to have each other's help in the Sacrament of Confession. And after they had ended their spiritual business, they began to confer of each other's estate, demanding what had been asked and what answered in the times of their examinations. Amongst other things, Father Ouldcorne demanding of Father Garnett whether Mr. Winter's going into Spain and his negotiation there were not laid to his charge, to this the Father answered, “He could answer that well enough, for after that time he had the King's general pardon at the time of his coming to the crown, that other business with Spain being in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.” Then Father Ouldcorne also demanded whether he were not pressed with this matter of the Powder Treason, as being a likely thing they would urge that above all other matters against him. Father Garnett answered, that “so they did; but that they could prove no such matter against him, and that no man living could touch him in that matter, but one.” This, lo, was the word that afterwards bred him so much trouble, and others of his friends so much grief, until by his public answers he had cleared their doubts, and by his death put the matter out of doubt, that he was not to be charged with any crime in the matter of that treason, but that there was one man alone that could accuse him so far forth as might give a likely pretence to their laws to proceed against him, especially his enemies being his judges, and they not judged or ruled by the law of conscience, in which the Father was clear. This word, as the rest also, was overheard by the keeper and another easing-dropper, his companion in that listening and cony-catching office. Then they thought they had enough. This was carried with all speed unto the Council, with no small joy; as it was foretold by Christ should befall his followers. “Mundus gaudebit, vos vero contristabimini.”[^381] But this lot is not ever to lie on their side; for He that permits this to His servants for a time, hath promised also “quod tristitia vestra vertetur in gaudium,” and then “gaudium vestrum nemo toilet a vobis.” Then shall be verified, “Væ vobis qui ridetis nunc, quia flebitis,”[^382] and that with fruitless and yet everlasting tears. God grant they may see and shun the danger, which is far greater and more to be feared than that which did or could befall this good Father by this seeming misfortune. But to proceed.

[^380: The hole in the wall where the FFrs. were overheard.]

[^381: “The world shall rejoice and you shall be made sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be turned into joy ... and your joy no man shall take from you” (St. John xvi. 20, 22).]

[^382: “Woe to you that now laugh, for you shall mourn and weep” (St. Luke vi. 25).]

[^383] Then it was resolved presently, that either by fear or force they would wring out of him who this person was that only could accuse him, and how far he could be accused. Then they resolved also to pull off the vizard from the dissembling face of the false keeper, and that he should no more show his former readiness to please or pleasure the good Father; but only that he should bring the good gentlewoman into the snare, which he had before drawn her into by his faithless promising, which he performed in this manner. Finding the devout gentlewoman desirous to see her good Father at the window of his prison, he promised to satisfy her wishes therein, and appointed a time when she should come to the Tower privately, and he would carry her to a place where she should at the least see him, if not speak with him. She failed not of her time; but coming thither found such signs and causes of distrust, that she returned sooner than she had intended, and was followed by persons prepared for the purpose, to see whither she would go to take her lodging, thereby not only to bring her, but her friends also in question. The gentlewoman, perceiving herself to be dogged, would not go to her own lodging nor to any Catholic house; but wisely intended to have gone into the prison of Newgate, where there was great store of Priests and other Catholics, unto which many of all sorts had continual access. Thus far they let her pass quietly, but when they saw she intended to go no further, they presently staid her, and with some rough usage carried her back unto the Tower, from whence she came, and there committed her prisoner, which is a very unwonted place for women to be committed in. But her extraordinary zeal towards her good Father deserved this extraordinary honour of being thereby more noted and spoken of, by this confession both of her faith and fervour, which was so much the more honourable as the confession was more public, and that was so much the more, as the place was more eminent where she was imprisoned.

[^383: The trouble of Mrs. Ann Vaux.]

Presently after her imprisonment, there were many false rumours spread and slanders raised, according to their custom in such cases (where they desire most to obscure the most known virtues and best deserving persons) for it was reported in many mouths that Father Garnett was married to this gentlewoman, and such like stuff, which forsooth they would have therefore the rather believed in that she was forward to adventure for him, and to go to see a man in so great danger as he was: not understanding how much more force true charity hath than fond affection, but “Animalis homo non percipit ea quæ Dei sunt.”[^384] And they measure others by their own desires, not feeling any spark of that heat which moved so many good Maries to follow Christ and His Apostles, nor tasting any part of their comfort, who ministering corporal food unto their spiritual Pastors, receive also from God by their ministration that heavenly manna “quod nemo novit nisi qui accipit.”[^385] But those reports soon died, when they saw her sober and modest behaviour, giving very good example and as great edification by her carriage as she did satisfaction by her answers in all the time of her imprisonment, never relenting or repenting the forward zeal she had showed to help her good Father in his need; but rather contrary, that she should as willingly bestow her life as her labour to do God service in that kind. And so my Lord of Salisbury did give her testimony at Father Garnett's arraignment.

[^384: “The sensual man perceiveth not these things that are of the Spirit of God” (1 Cor. ii. 14).]

[^385: Which no man knoweth but he who receiveth it.]

About this time also was Mr. Garnett, the Priest in the Gatehouse, brought into further trouble for the letter he had received by the treacherous keeper, although it was signed and so licensed with the Lieutenant his hand, who had also, notwithstanding this leave given, seized upon all such necessaries as were then sent unto Father Garnett by this good Priest, and he was now also called into question about the whole matter, and strictly examined, and so removed from the Gatehouse to the Tower, where he remained in likely expectation both of torture and death for his charity shown to Father Garnett, to whom no man could show any friendship, and be withal esteemed “amicus Cæsaris.”

Then the Council appointed a set time of coming to the Tower to examine Father Garnett upon this advantage they had by cunning won of him out of his own words. There came thither to that end the Lord of Salisbury, the Lord of Suffolk, the Lord Northampton and others. How Father Garnett had been used in the meantime for his preparation to this business we cannot learn, but we have cause to think it was not so well at this time especially, as he out of his modesty was content to affirm of his usage in general, being asked the question at his arraignment. For when he was brought before the Lords, he was in a very strange plight, so thirsty as not able to spit or speak; beer was called for, and he drank two glasses before them; withal he was so drowsy, as not able to hold up his head; he complaining that he had not slept in five nights before. It was reported by divers of good intelligence in London, that he was watched of purpose and kept from sleep to make his head light, and himself less able to bear that which should be imposed upon him; also that he had some mixtures of intoxicating drink given him which should obscure his understanding and distemper his body. But in respect that Father Garnett being asked the question in public, did not take knowledge of any extraordinary hard usage in those kinds, I for my part do rather think it was done, but in such manner as himself could not perceive, by mixing his drink or meat with such confections as might work both those effects to distemper his body and hinder his sleep, and yet the Father not know when or how it was procured.

At this time he was so heavy in his head, that being not fit to be examined, the Lords permitted him to go sleep an hour, and then being awaked, he was brought unto them again, but was little better. Then they did examine him of many things concerning the Powder Treason, and particularly seemed to take knowledge that one had confessed something of him in that kind, and asked seriously whether there were not some one that could accuse him therein: which he confidently denied as thinking himself as secure from being accused in the knowledge of the matter as he was in conscience clear from all consent or approbation of the thing itself. When they saw him so absolute in denying this point, they carried him to the house of torture and there did torture him for some time; it is thought not very long.[^386] For then they opened the whole secret, how he had been overheard speak at the hole in the wall with Father Ouldcorne, and that he said, there was one man that could accuse him, of which words they produced two witnesses that said they heard him speak them; and how many more were brought in we know not. But Father Garnett then seeing his trust deceived and the matter discovered, thought it best for divers reasons not to stand in it any longer; but said that “in tantâ nube testium,”[^387] he would utter the matter justly as it was, that being the time wherein he might lawfully do it, and before he could not: the knowledge that he had being a secret committed to him in confession, which the penitent did only license him to utter, to save himself from torture, but not in any other case.

[^386: But the time we cannot certainly learn. Erased in Orig.]

[^387: In so great a cloud of witnesses.]

Then being taken down from the torture, he was demanded, how far he was of counsel or a furtherer of the Plot of Powder. He answered he was never any furtherer of it, but did ever both mislike it in his heart, and in what he could did hinder it. And being asked how it was, or by whom he might then be accused; he answered that he could not be otherwise accused of it, but that he had only a simple knowledge of it, and that also in so secret a manner as that it was never lawful for him to utter it, being in confession. They asked him how it came to be more lawful now to utter it than before. He said, in respect that now he had leave granted by the penitent, who had licensed him to utter it, rather than endure torture for keeping his confession secret. And being urged by some of the Lords, why it might be lawful to utter the secret of confession to save himself from torture, and not lawful to utter it for the saving of so many great persons from death, &c, he answered it was lawful in neither case, but by the license of the penitent, who only could “dilatare” or “restringere sigillum secreti,”[^388] which appertained to himself. Being then required to tell who that party was; he answered, they should see, he would deal plainly with them in all things, it being now lawful to utter his knowledge therein; and said, “the man was Father Oswald Tesimond.”

[^388: To enlarge or restrain the seal of the secret.]

This acknowledgment of Father Garnett's was after censured by many; and even by some of his friends and well-wishers esteemed a weakness in him. But if the causes that moved him thereunto be well weighed (as they were no doubt very well considered by him) the matter will not be found to deserve any imputation of fear or imprudence in Father Garnett. For after it was once bolted out at the hole in the wall that he was to be accused of it (which thing indeed made the overture to all) if he had then insisted upon denial, that would neither have saved his life, nor his estimation touching that matter; yea rather, it would have left him suspected of further practice as a principal plotter of the matter, and withal would have made all the rest of his true assertions the more distrusted. Whereas by telling the plain truth, that he only heard it in confession, he did both show himself and the party from whom he heard it to be free from being either principals or parties in the action, especially declaring unto them as he did how the matter passed, to wit, that Father Tesimond came unto him much troubled about the matter, desiring for the ease of his conscience to go to confession, and therein declared, that such an intention and practice was opened unto him; wherein he might have some doubt whether he had done his duty. For though (as I have heard it affirmed by some of credit, that since have spoken with Father Tesimond) he did utterly mislike the practice, and refuse to assist them any way, either by counsel or otherwise, yet doubts or scruples fit for confession might arise in his mind two divers ways. First, on the one side he might be doubtful whether he had sufficiently dissuaded them from it, and used the best and most effectual reasons to withdraw them from proceeding therein, both in respect of the matter itself and of the charge he had from his Superiors not to meddle with any matter of State, much less of that quality that concerned the life of any, or attempts against the Prince. So on the other side, he might have some motions to doubt whether in that case[^389] God did not intend by them to punish heresy and revenge the cause and quarrel of his servants with a temporal affliction to some of their chiefest afflictors, which he knew well would be much more severely punished in the next world if it be not repented in this. Therefore being uncertain of the secret judgments of God, and seeing them so resolute in it, and to protest they did it only for the redeeming of the Church from persecution in England and like danger in other places, if the root of heresy should continue; but especially that they did it to save so many souls as daily were cast away, whilst heresy was in that strength and power, against which also, they said, no other means was left in human likelihood by which they could hope redress of so many evils, much greater without comparison than the loss of such as were to perish in the action. Remembering therefore the reasons they alleged, though he was sure he might not himself be an actor or furtherer thereof in any kind, yet perhaps he might doubt how far he was bound to hinder it in others. And so the matter on both sides might breed some doubts, and whether he feared he had done too much, or too little, in the cause, yet his fear on either side might be cause sufficient of confession;[^390] and his confession a sign that he rather disliked than approved the Plot in any sort. For either he must confess that he had hindered it or not. If that he had hindered it, then he was no furtherer of it; if that he had not hindered it sufficiently, then it was apparent he misliked the Plot, and meant to hinder it. But the truth indeed was (as I have heard it) that he had sought to hinder it by persuasion; but was doubtful whether in so earnest and effectual manner as might be likely to prevail with so absolute resolutions.

[^389: Being no causer of it himself, he should not have left them to themselves without seeking to divert them from their purpose; not knowing whether. Erased in Orig.]

[^390: And the confession being only of his knowledge what others had opened unto him of their intentions so long time after they had begun the practice. Erased in Orig.]

Father Garnett, therefore, opening the plain truth of the matter according to the leave he had of the penitent in that case, did not any way prejudice, but rather relieve, both his own and his penitent's case as things then stood. But some will say, what needed Father Garnett have opened the name of the party, and not rather indefinitely have affirmed that some one in confession did open it unto him. But this (if it be well considered) would not have served. For, first, if he had named no person, he could never have taken away the fear and jealousy of the King and State, knowing assuredly that one man yet lived that was privy to the matter, and for ought they knew might be still in the same mind, and live in place, or be of power, to effect some mischief. Besides, by such concealment, he might fear great troubles would follow to many Catholics, especially that all the friends of the Society would have been troubled with continual examinations, searches, and vexations; and that his particular acquaintance should assuredly have been suspected, imprisoned, and convented before the Council as traitors under this pretence; and so to save one man from trouble he should have been the cause of trouble to many, besides his own extremity of torture, which would have been with all force and fury laid upon him until he had told the truth. And to name any other person living, it was not lawful, because not true; and to name one of the gentlemen that were slain would not have been sufficient, he having said that one man living might accuse him. And to name in particular Father Tesimond did not seem to give any just cause of increase to the hard opinion they had of him before, knowing by Mr. Winter of his going into Spain with him (though they mistook the cause) and by Bates[^391] of his going unto the gentlemen in Warwickshire after they were up in arms, though there also they misinterpret his intention. But this supposed, and he thereby as much laid for and as likely to suffer (if he were taken) by their former conceits, as by this one particular, this circumstance of his uttering it in confession might rather extenuate than aggravate his peril in just reason and the opinion conceived of him. For as I showed before, it proved a dislike of the action, or an endeavour against it, or both, and this before his confession. Then Father Garnett adding thereunto his further charge, that he should do his uttermost to dissuade and divert them from their purpose, and he promising to do his best, all these points do prove sufficiently that he was neither contriver nor counsellor, nor yet consenter to the Plot, of all which he stood then accused in the proclamation, so that the knowledge of the truth might seem to help and not to hinder him in anything.

[^391: Of his knowledge thereof from him, and. Erased in Orig.]

[^392] These and many more effectual reasons no doubt were considered by Father Garnett, which moved him not to conceal the whole truth of his knowledge, and the means how it came unto him; which cannot therefore be justly imputed to any frailty or imprudence in him, but rather esteemed as an argument of his care to take away jealousies from the King, who could not fear any further power or practice in Father Tesimond; to prevent troubles from Catholics; to free himself and the other also from opinion of any consent unto the Plot; but especially to clear all the rest of the Society from so much as the least knowledge that any such thing was intended. Which truth may evidently be proved out of Father Garnett's words, “That one only could accuse him of his knowledge thereof;” for if any more of the Society had known thereof, it is certain they would and must have confessed the same to him, if they took it for a fault; if otherwise, at least have sought his advice out of confession. So that no more imparting the matter to him, it was apparent no more did know of it; and therefore very likely to be God's especial providence that Father Garnett should be overheard to speak these words unto his confident friend in private (whereby it was most apparent he meant not to be heard by others), that thereby all others might be cleared; though for the time it occasioned his further trouble, which God doth often permit to His elected servants, for their further increase of glory in another world.

[^392: All others of the Society apparently cleared from any knowledge of the Plot.]

This, therefore, Father Garnett acknowledged then in his examination before the Council, that they might see, as he told them, he dealt truly and plainly with them in all things. And they asking him why he did not before acknowledge so much, but did protest against it, he answered it was not before lawful for him to do it, because he had no leave but in that case; and that it was a thing both lawful in all laws, divine and human, and ordinary also in their own practice, for men to plead not guilty, until they be convicted by witness, which he especially might do in this case, this being no sin or crime in him, and was bound to do until this time, it being before “sigillum secreti confessionis,”[^393] which now was released by the penitent's leave.

[^393: The seal of the secret of confession.]

So they left Father Garnett for the time; but carried with them matter enough, as they thought, to convict him of this treason in show of the world. To which end it was presently given out through the whole town, that he had confessed all, and now they could prove the Jesuits to be principal plotters of this treason, and him and Greenway to be chief authors and devisers of the same; and it was in most men's mouths that all this was under Garnett's hand confessed. And this presently carried unto the Ambassadors there residing, that by them it might be divulged in others States; and so a falsehood first grounded, might be more hard to be removed by sequent information of the truth, and their proceedings against Father Garnett might seem more justifiable. This report, although it troubled the Catholics of England much until they knew the contrary, yet could they not believe it, being so well acquainted with the giving out of such things, as the chiefest do desire to have believed, although the truth be often found on the contrary side.

In the meantime Father Ouldcorne was also called in further question about this conference and about his knowledge of the treason; but they found him always like himself, both virtuous and wise and constant in both, and as, indeed, he knew nothing thereof, so he ever professed his absolute innocency therein and patiently endured the extreme torments they put him unto, as I have heard five hours every day, four or five days together, which was a greater extremity than one will easily believe that hath not tried it.

Likewise one that did attend upon Father Ouldcorne, and did assist him in his journeys and many good works when he was at liberty, did now suffer with him, as he afterwards died with him. His name was Ralph ———;[^394] and he was divers times put upon the torture; but the certain number or measure of the times I cannot yet learn. But he patiently and constantly endured all without revealing any one place or person of his master's acquaintance.

[^394: Ralph Ashley, for eight years Father Ouldcorne's servant, is believed, like Nicholas Owen, to have been a Lay-brother of the Society.—Ed.]

But, above all, they were most troubled and tormented that were known most to belong unto Father Garnett; of which kind they had first taken one John Grissold, an honest faithful man, who had the keeping of a house where the foresaid Mrs. Ann Vaux and a kinswoman of hers did use to dwell near unto London, and where they imagined Father Garnett did also remain with them. This honest man being taken in the beginning of the troubles, was first committed close prisoner to the Gatehouse and there lodged in a dungeon upon the bare ground, for the keeper (though he were earnestly entreated by the other prisoners) would not allow him so much as straw to lie upon, pretending that if he had any straw to lie on, he would with that set fire on the house. This man did both endure his affliction with great patience and answer in all his examinations with great constancy and fidelity. But afterwards, when Father Garnett was taken and prisoner in the Tower, the Commissioners desiring to get matter against him, removed this man to the Tower also, and there put him to the torture with great extremity and very often, almost every day for a long time together, as we did confidently hear reported; with which and with other bad usage in his diet and lodging, he was for a long time after like to die, and it was thought by many that he was dead, and doubtless he escaped very hardly.

But the man that was most extremely used and with extremities brought unto the last extremity, which is death itself, was one Nicholas Oven, commonly called and most known by the name of Little John. By which name he was so famous and so much esteemed by all Catholics, especially those of the better sort, that few in England, either Priests or others, were of more credit. This man did for seventeen or eighteen[^395] years continually attend upon Father Garnett, and assist him in many occasions. But his chief employment was in making of secret places to hide Priests and Church stuff in from the fury of searches; in which kind he was so skilful both to devise and frame the places in the best manner, and his help therein desired in so many places, that I verily think no man can be said to have done more good of all those that laboured in the English vineyard. For, first, he was the immediate occasion of saving the lives of many hundreds of persons, both ecclesiastical and secular, and of the estates also of these seculars, which had been lost and forfeited many times over if the Priests had been taken in their houses; of which some have escaped, not once but many times, in several searches that have come to the same house, and sometimes five or six Priests together at the same time. Myself have been one of the seven that have escaped that danger at one time in a secret place of his making. How many Priests then may we think this man did save by his endeavours in the space of seventeen years, having laboured in all shires and in the chiefest Catholic houses of England? Then for spiritual good, it is to be noted he was partner with them all in the gain of souls wherein he did preserve them; and to which end he intended directly all his works, labouring in that painful and dangerous business to keep them in safety for the saving of souls, which it appeared well he respected more than his own body, for he was not ignorant that his office was much subject to the danger of spies, and that when he should happen to be taken he was sure to be extremely handled to wrest out of him the secrets of other men's houses. And so, de facto, he did prove it ten years before this his last apprehension, at which time being taken with Father Gerard, though it were not known directly that he was the man that used to make secret places, neither the time as then all out so violent (things passing much with us by storms and calms, as in times of former persecution), yet was he then put to extreme torture, and used besides with all cunning to see if either force or fear would make him to relent. But when they found that he was so constant he would not yield in the least point, and so discreet withal that they could not take any advantage of his answers either against himself or others, having no evidence at all nor witness to come in against him, they could do no more but keep him still in prison, which they did until Catholics, that could hardly want him abroad, with a good round sum of money did purchase his liberty.

[^395: 18 or 19. Erased in Orig.]

One reason that made him so much desired by Catholics of account, who might have had other workmen enough to make conveyances in their houses, was a known and tried care he had of secrecy, not only from such as would of malice be inquisitive, but from all others to whom it belonged not to know; in which he was so careful that you should never hear him speak of any houses or places where he had made such hides, though sometimes he had occasion to discourse of the fashion of them for the making of others. Yea, he did much strive to make them of several fashions in several places, that one being taken might give no light to the discovery of another. Wherein he had no doubt great aid from Almighty God, for his places were exceeding fortunate (if so we may term the providence of God), and no marvel, for he ever began his work with communicating that day he entered upon it, and, as much as his labour would give him leave, did continually pray whilst he was working. But the contriving of his works in the safest manner were also very much assisted by an extraordinary wit and discretion which he had in such measure as I have seldom in my life seen the like in a man of his quality, which is also the opinion of most that did know him well. But, above all, that which did most commend him both in the sight of God and man, was his innocent life and earnest practice of solid virtues. For the first it was such, that I think no man can say that in all that seventeen or eighteen years they heard him swear by any oath, or ever saw him out of charity; yea, I have heard his ghostly Fathers affirm very seriously, that in all that time they never knew him to have committed mortal sin, nor anything that might be doubted to be such. His practice of the chiefest virtues was such that he had gotten great habits both in the religious virtues of poverty, chastity, and obedience, and no less in humility, patience, and charity, which upon all occasions were very plainly seen in his conversation and actions, insomuch that he was as a pattern of those virtues in every house where he came. One trial of his patience I cannot omit, because it was most apparent and worthy memory.

He was sent on a time to London by his Superior to fetch certain household stuff behind him upon a horse that was somewhat resty. He loaded his horse in an inn, and afterwards got up in the saddle with great difficulty; but then the horse would not forward, whether misliking his load or no, it is uncertain; but instead of going forward he rose so high with his forefeet that he fell backward and fell upon the man and burst his leg; which sore hurt he did bear with so great patience, and in like sort the dressing thereof divers times, but especially when being false knit, it was needful to have it broken the second which was worse than the first, that they all admired him in the inn, where he was forced to lie a long time. And whereas his friends were much afraid he would there have been discovered in his long abode, yet his patience and virtue got him so much love that he received no harm, but was ever after most welcome to the place.

Upon this hurt and the ill-setting of the leg-bone, one leg was a little bended and shorter than the other, whereof he had some halt, but so little as you could scarcely discern it; wherein, as he was made somewhat like in his pace unto blessed Father Ignatius (whose child and scholar he was), so did he labour to follow his steps in his Rules and holy Institution, whereof he was a most religious observer, and as we generally think a Lay-coadjutor of the Society, admitted by Father Garnett some years before his death, though his humble and discreet carriage was such as you could not discern any liberty of fellowlike conversation that he took thereupon with any of the Society, but rather carried himself in all things as a servant. And I have some reasons more in particulars to think that he was assuredly admitted of the Order, yet those can better tell that are of the Society here in England.

Now to come to the manner of his death. It was such as might be expected from so innocent and holy a life; yea, such as the enemy did therefore much malign and to seek to hide, and that with disgrace in all he might. Being taken with Father Garnett, as hath been said, he was first committed to the Marshalsea, and not close prisoner of purpose (as it is thought) to observe who would come unto him; but he was too wise to give any advantage. When Father Garnett was committed to the Tower, he also was sent thither, there to be tortured, and that with all extremity, as it was before intended when he was first known to be taken; for even then a chief Councillor said, “Is he taken that knows all the secret places? I am very glad of that. We will have a trick for him.” And so indeed they tricked him when they had him in the Tower, for they tortured him so long and so often that his bowels gushed out together with his life; which when they did espy, thinking to cover their own cruelty with his slander, they gave it out that he had slain himself with a knife that was lent him to eat his meat withal. And to make this report to go for current amongst the common people, they set forth a ballad with his picture, ripping out his own bowels with a knife as he lay in bed, his keeper being also in the chamber busy about some other thing. But this false slander was so improbable that even his enemies did not believe it, much less his friends that were so well acquainted with his innocent life and long-continued practice in virtue, besides his former tried constancy in that kind. For all men did see it stood with no likelihood that, after all his torments so patiently sustained, he should then of impatience or fear of more torments cast away himself; for then he would rather have done it before his torments, or after the first time to prevent the next, for he was beforehand well assured they meant to use him with all extremity; and yet all the while he was in the Marshalsea, or where his carriage might be seen, no sign of fear or trouble of mind could be discerned, but an humble and quiet settled mind, using great diligence in prayer, as one that prepared himself to his last conflict, which he might well expect, especially knowing the state of his body, as he did, which I will by-and-bye declare. Again, if he would have yielded to sin to save himself from pain, would he not rather have yielded to their desires and discovered the secret places that he knew, for which he might be well assured not only to escape torments, but to be most highly rewarded, as one that could have done them more service in that kind than any man in England whosoever, and might have brought more Priests into their hands and more gentlemen's and noblemen's livings into their possession than any one man could; yea, he might have made it almost an impossible thing for Priests to escape, knowing the residences of most Priests in England, and of all those of the Society, whom he might have taken as partridges in a net, knowing all their secret places which himself had made, and the like conveyances in most of the chief Catholics' houses in England, and the means and manner how all such places were to be found, though made by others. So that as no one man did more good than he in assisting the labours of all the Priests that were workmen in that vineyard, so no ten men could have done so much harm as he alone might if he had been so disposed; by which he well knew he might have made himself great in the world, not only by their rewards for so great and extraordinary service, but also by the spoil of Catholics' goods, being so many and so great, as he might have come to the rifling of, and have had no doubt much thereof for his own share, especially the Church stuff, which he knew to be very rich in some places, and where and how it was laid up. These motives therefore of riches, credit, and pleasure, being joined with assurance of life and liberty, had been more likely baits for him to have bitten at, if he would have swallowed the hook of sin for the avoiding of torment, than by the torment of death voluntarily assumed, not to end his torments, as he well knew, but to begin a never-ending and that also much more intolerable torment in hell-fire. He wanted neither wit nor knowledge in spiritual things to discern the great difference between these two; especially seeing on the one side with pleasures and riches in the world to be joined a longer life, and so a time wherein he might at last hope to do penance and be saved. Whereas on the other side he could see nothing but present death without comfort, and that but “initium dolorum,”[^396] the door, as it were, into the house of horror, despair, and everlasting torments.

[^396: “The beginnings of sorrows” (St. Matt. xxiv. 8).]

No; the truth was this: the man had lived a saintly life, and his death was answerable, and he a glorious martyr of extraordinary merit. God assisted him with so much grace that in all his torments he gave not the least sign of relenting, not any sign of impatience, not any one word by which the least of his acquaintance either did or might come in any trouble, of which three kinds they could not so much as feign any little instance to set forth with their forged slander, but set out the bare lie without any colour or likelihood at all. Indeed, I think they intended not to have killed him by torture, though they meant to give him enough, and more than ever any sustained of whom we can find records. For he hung in the torture seven hours together, and this divers times, though we cannot as yet learn the certain number, but day after day we heard of his being carried to torments. Now true it is, and well known to many, that the man had a rupture in his belly, taken with excessive pains in his former labours; and a man in that case is so unable to abide torments, that the civil law doth forbid to torture any man that is broken. He, therefore, being not only tortured, but that with so much extremity and so long continuance, it could not be otherwise but that his bowels should come out; which, when they perceived, and minding as yet to continue that course with him, they girded his belly with a plate of iron to keep in his bowels, but the extremity of pain (which is most, in that kind of torment, about the breast and belly) did force out his guts, and so the iron did serve but to cut and wound his body, which, perhaps, did afterwards put them in mind to give it out that he had ripped his belly with a knife. Which, besides all the former reasons, is in itself improbable, if not impossible. For first, in that case, knives are not allowed, but only in time of meat, whilst one stands by, and those such as are broad at the point, and will only cut towards the midst. And if one be sore tortured (though much less than he was), he is not able to handle that knife neither for many days, but his keeper must cut his meat for him. But his particular case proceeded yet further, for his weakness was such that when a kinswoman of his (to whom they sent for some relief for him) desired to see by his handwriting what he would have, his keeper answered, “What would you have him write? He is not able to put on his own cap: no, not to feed himself, but I am forced to feed him.” This man was likely, then, belike, to do such a deed with a knife which he was not able to grasp. But afterwards, the same party, seeking further to know his estate, and coming to the keeper to learn, as desirous to help him with anything that was needful, he secretly wished her to trouble herself no more, for, said he, “The man is dead, he died in our hands.” This was known presently to divers Catholics, though reported in private, as it was spoken, for fear of further examination and trouble. For after they had published that he had killed himself, and seeing it was not believed, the only argument they had to give it credit was to commit those to prison that spake against it, of which there were divers examples to terrify others. “Sed Deus revelabit abscondita tenebrarum et manifestabit consilia cordium.”[^397] And of this great and worthy martyr there is no question but many witnesses will one day be produced to the glory of God and His servant, and the safety of their own souls if ever they come to penance. In the meantime I desire my soul may have part with his, and myself may be assisted with his holy prayers. About whose life and death I have been the longer, to show how much the truth of his virtuous life and glorious death is contrary to the published slander. This happy soul suffering all this, only for his conscience and constant practice of charity, not being so much as accused of any other crime.[^398]

[^397: But God “will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts” (1 Cor. iv. 5).]

[^398: Now I must set down their proceedings by course of law against the gentlemen that were the conspirators in the treason (of which I formerly treated), and this I will do in this chapter following. Erased in Orig.]

Chapter XII. Of The Arraignment, Condemnation, And Execution Of The Conspirators, With The Full Clearing Of Some Of The Society Falsely Accused In This Arraignment.

About[^399] this time was discovered unto the Council the place where Father Garnett was, insomuch as they gave present order for his apprehension, as I will declare in the next chapter; but it could not be so soon effected as it was hoped and desired, so that in the meantime, although they were most desirous to defer the execution of the conspirators as long as might be, coveting to have found matter in Father Garnett whereby he might have been joined to them as a party at least, if not a principal contriver and author of their plot, yet finding his apprehension not to be speedy, and having no proofs and therefore weak hopes of proving him guilty, they could not well defer the trial of the conspirators so long time. Therefore upon the —[^400] of January, they were all carried from the Tower to Westminster Hall by water, being nine in number: vidlt., Sir Everard Digby, Knight, Mr. Robert Winter, Esquire, Mr. Ambrose Rokewood, Esquire, Mr. John Grant, Esquire, Mr. Thomas Winter, and Mr. John Winter, brothers unto Robert Winter, Mr. Guido Faulks, Mr. Robert Keyes, and Thomas Bates, servant to Mr. Robert Catesby, of all which mention hath been made in the precedent chapters, sufficient both to declare the quality and conditions of each one of them, unto which I remit the careful reader, if he be desirous to renew his memory and to join the consideration of their life with the inspection of their death.

[^399: This great diligence and often iterated examinations of Father Garnett continued so long that it was almost the end of March before they could bring matters to that pass which hath been declared, and so that they might have any little show to prove the Father guilty against the laws of the realm for his only concealing of that which by the laws of God he could not reveal. Erased in Orig.]

[^400: The 27th.—Ed.]

Being brought to Westminster Hall before the Court was ready to sit, they were staid some half-hour in the Star Chamber, where in that little time of stay all men did note a great resolution in them, not seeming to fear or respect either judgment or death itself; nor showing any sign of sorrow for their attempt, in regard of their intention thereby to have pulled down heresy and set up the Catholic religion. Their state of mind and manner of carriage may in part be discerned by that printed pamphlet, which was presently set forth, entitled A true report of the Imprisonment, Arraignment, and Death of the late Traitors, wherein although all their particular words and actions were of set purpose left out, which might sound to their commendation, and many words of contumely and disgrace heaped upon them and their religion also in the most odious manner that could be devised; yet even that which is there set down of them did confirm very many in opinion that they thought themselves clear from offence to God in the matter, and that they were thereby made the more willing to suffer for the same cause. For there it is set down “that they spake little but in commendation of their conceited religion; also, that they asked no mercy either of God or the King for their offence, but seemed as though in their conscience they thought the work to be meritorious; also, that some did seem to enforce a stern look, as if they would fear death with a frown; also, that they did only pray by the dozens upon their beads.” Thus they scoff at the iteration of the Ave Maria and the set number of them which Catholics use in saying their beads. But by all these it appears they were nothing daunted with that which they expected, but were well persuaded of their cause, although they knew it was and would be condemned by the world. All which I do the rather set down, as well for the verity of the story, as that all men may see how needful it is even for the best minds to follow counsel, although their intentions be never so direct; seeing men of so excellent parts ran into so foul an error, and attempted so dangerous an enterprise against the whole State, by their own rash and heady courses, against the advice of their spiritual guides. For if they would have followed the advice of Father Garnett, they had never fallen into this grievous disorder.

When the Court was set, they were all brought into the hall and placed upon the scaffold at the bar to answer to their indictments. And, first, their indictments were read, wherein, as the manner is, their whole designment was laid open, together with the names and number of the conspirators, and the beginning and prosecution of the whole Plot, in such order as hath been before declared out of their confessions, only now they intermixed many untruths devised of their own head against the Jesuits, accusing them without any instance of time or place, and without any proof or witness at all, not only as parties of the conspiracy, but as principal actors, yea, and authors of the whole Plot. And to this end they did name those three as principal, whom they had before put in the proclamation, vidlt., Garnett, Tesimond,[^401] and Gerard; yet always adding unto them “and other Jesuits,” whereby it is apparent they meant by degrees to bring in the whole Company, having no proof against any, more than evil will suggested. For this was before they came to know that Father Garnett and Father Tesimond were acquainted with it in that secret manner that they could not reveal it,[^402] at which time both they dissuaded it, and by all lawful means did labour to hinder it. But here both they and Father Gerard by name, and other also without name, were accused of it, who never had the least knowledge or imagination of such a matter. And yet to make the matter good against them, here they were accused in this indictment, where none of them were present to answer for themselves; and were joined with the conspirators who were sure to be convicted and condemned of the fact, that the Jesuits might also seem to stand convicted and proved guilty with them; and this not only as partners, but, as I have said, as principal counsellors and causers of the whole treason. To which end they brought in in the indictment certain solemn meetings and consultations between the aforesaid three Jesuits[^403] and the principal of these gentlemen, especially Catesby, Winter, Percy, Faulks, and Wright; at which time these Jesuits (said the indictment) did persuade those gentlemen that the King being an heretic stood excommunicate, and therefore might be deposed, and finally persuaded them that there was no better way to effect that and restore Catholic religion than to blow up the Parliament House with gunpowder. All this was there fathered upon the Jesuits, whereof there was no one word true, as hath already and shall hereafter more apparently be showed.

[^401: Greeneway. Erased in Orig.]

[^402: As in the last chapter hath been declared. Erased in Orig.]

[^403: And with divers others. Erased in Orig.]

And first, the prisoners unto this indictment did all plead not guilty, which though it be an ordinary course for all to do, until they have answered for themselves what they can, and then be cast by the verdict of the jury, yet in their case it was thought strange; they having all confessed the fact before in their several examinations. It was asked therefore afterwards of Mr. Guido Faulks, how he could plead not guilty, being so apparently taken in the place where the powder was laid up, and with matches and instruments about him for the purpose he intended, and seeing that also he never denied the fact nor the intention; but had confessed himself privy to the whole designment and of the most secret counsel from the beginning. It was much marvelled, therefore, how he amongst all the rest could plead not guilty; unto which he answered that he granted all to be true which they now spake of himself; but that he pleaded not guilty to the indictment, in regard of the meetings and consultations there alleged between the Jesuits and them, of which he said he knew nothing nor ever heard of any such counsel or persuasion from them. Now unto this his speech, which did so clearly discharge the Jesuits from all the imposed crime, what answer, think you, was given? Truly a very poor one. Forsooth, that all that was put in for form of law, because it must be presupposed.

But must untruths be presupposed in the place of justice, where right and truth stand to be tried from faults and falsehood, as gold and brass distinguished by the touchstone? And if some consultations must for form sake be set down before the acts themselves be said to be concluded of or commenced, yet must the innocent needs be thrust into the number and made the principals in the parley? Let us suppose the indictment had been drawn by some lawyers that had been no good friends to the Chief Justice and Attorney and Solicitor there present, and that their three names had been put into the indictment instead of the three Jesuits there named, and the whole matter laid upon their counsel and persuasion; would this have seemed to them to be just dealing and fit for the place of justice, only for that such consultations must be presupposed? Well, the time must come (and God knoweth how soon) when they and all that were the compilers of that indictment shall stand at the bar in a higher court, where their indictment will also be read, being already written by themselves in these their actions, “Eadem enim mensura, quâ mensi fuerint, remetietur eis.”[^404]

[^404: For with the same measure with which they shall have meted, it shall be measured to them again.]

[^405] But to proceed in the narration. When the indictment was read, and they all pleaded not guilty, then according to the custom in such cases, the King's Serjeant-at-Law (whose name was Sir Edward Philips) endeavoured to lay open the indictment that the cause of those that stood indicted might seem the more odious unto the jury and all the standers-by. After him Sir Edward Coke, the King's Attorney-General, began his speech, wherein first he laboured to excuse the long stay that had been made of that trial and arraignment of the conspirators, which he supposed many did marvel to see so long deferred, supposing the grievousness of their fact and the apparent evidence that was to be brought against them. For excuse whereof he alleged divers reasons which some of the standers-by thought very insufficient; as, namely, that Mr. Robert Winter and Mr. Stephen Littleton were not long before taken. But what if it had been some months after before they had been apprehended (as it might well have been if by accident they had not been discovered), should then the execution have been deferred until their taking? Also he alleged, that if they had made more haste, they might have hanged Johnson instead of Faulks. But that had been a small matter, they being sure of the same man, and he of his punishment, which would have been neither greater nor less to him if he had received it by a wrong name. If Johnson and Faulks had been two several men, and then one hanged for the other, such a mistaking of the men or matter had been indeed an error, and to be prevented with some longer stay. But Mr. Attorney did not allege that which was the chief cause of this stay of execution, to wit, an earnest desire to have brought the Jesuits upon the stage if they could have been proved guilty, as they did their names into the indictment without any proof at all; yea, contrary to the published examinations and the now public witness of the conspirators themselves, as there it appeared. Secondly, Mr. Attorney did seek to excuse himself to foreign Princes in that he was forced to produce their names in that odious action, which he said he would not otherwise have done, but that he was enforced thereunto by the confessions of the conspirators, which he was to urge against them, and said he, the names of foreign Princes were so woven into the matter by their confessions, that they could not conveniently be left out. In all which I must allow of Mr. Attorney his modesty and care not to offend so great persons, who, though they were named, yet in no sort accused by any of the conspirators.

[^405: The Attorney his Speech.]

[^406] But here in defence of the innocent, we have cause to demand of Mr. Attorney why he was not also careful to forbear the offence of a much higher Majesty, that is, of God Himself, by accusing His servants wrongfully, without any cause at all given by them, or occasion offered by the confession of the conspirators, in which they were not so much as named? Yet Mr. Attorney would needs enforce those meetings and consultations to be true which the indictment had mentioned, and which, you heard before, the conspirators disclaimed, and in respect thereof did all plead not guilty: although for their own part, they denied not the fact, nor the consultations which they had amongst themselves before they concluded of the matter. Mr. Attorney, notwithstanding, would needs insist in the same disproved falsehood, and added thereunto another most egregious untruth, never so much as thought of by the party accused, as he hath often and most seriously protested to his private and confident friends, and once in my own hearing. The tale is this: that Father Gerard did give the oath of secrecy and perseverance in this treason unto the conspirators, and then heard their confessions and ministered the Blessed Sacrament unto them. Than which a more false and pernicious slander could not be raised or reported of any man living, nor more contrary to his very natural disposition and known manner of proceeding, as all men will answer for him that are much conversant with him.

[^406: Father Gerard false accused and fully cleared.]

But I would ask Mr. Attorney upon what ground he did raise and report this false surmise? Did any one man ever accuse him of it, or could it be justly gathered by any little word or tittle of their confessions? They are printed and published, and I have them now by me whilst I write this. I have often read them over, and my eyes are not of so quick a sight as to discern the least cause of surmise leading to any such matter. But perhaps Mr. Attorney had it by revelation. Certainly he neither had nor brought any proof at all of so foul an accusation, which had been requisite to a man of his place. And it had been well he would have considered for his own credit that which all men know, that if there had been any such thing confessed by the conspirators, without which he could never know it, infallibly it would have been set down in their confessions; which I prove apparently by this reason: Mr. Attorney here affirmeth that he was forced to speak of other Princes, because their names were so intermixed or woven (as he termeth it) into their confessions, that he could not declare the one without the other. If then that which he saith he was so unwilling to speak of was publicly set down in their printed confessions, because they were annexed by the examinates to the discourse of their said confessions, how much more would this against a Jesuit have been left in (which here they charged him withal)[^407] if any such thing had been true, or confessed for such by the conspirators? I hope Mr. Attorney will not say that he suppressed the matter for good-will unto him, and was more loth to have his name spoken of in so odious a cause than the names of those Princes which he would so fain have concealed, but that he could not unweave their confessions so much, into which they were inserted.

[^407: And namely Fr. Gerard. Erased in Orig.]

But if you will indeed know the true reason why this absurd fiction was not set down in their printed confessions, and yet was here averred by Mr. Attorney, you must understand that the author of that first relation and discourse of all this treason and of the course and proceeding thereof (wherein the treason itself of gunpowder, the discovery thereof, the rebellion of the conspirators, their apprehension, and their confessions, were all published with all known, due, and true circumstances) was so careful of his authority and the credit of his narration, that he would not blemish the same with reporting any known untruth. And indeed the author was said to be of no less authority than the King himself; as it is easy to be gathered out of another book set forth soon after by the Earl of Salisbury, entitled An Answer to certain Scandalous Papers, in which, he saith, speaking of that discourse, “that every line discovered where Apelles' hand hath been.” Now, on the other side, Mr. Attorney being not so sure a friend to truth, nor so careful of his own credit in that point, did not stick to allege this dream or device of his own for a true narrative, than which there never was a more foul untruth devised, the party accused being no more privy unto the giving or taking of any such oath, nor to any such plot or purpose in any one of the conspirators than the Attorney himself was, or whosoever doth think himself the furthest from it. And so it may appear that others of greater authority and judgment than Mr. Attorney were persuaded of him. For although when the matter first broke out the Council perhaps might have some suspicion that he was privy unto the Plot, in respect he was supposed to be acquainted with some of the gentlemen that were in the conspiracy, and thereupon his name put in the proclamation, yet after the conspirators were taken, and had been examined, and no proof at all found against him, or mention made of him in any of their confessions, it seems that the wisest, and those that had most to deal in the matter, did hold him free; and therefore neither the Earl of Salisbury nor of Northampton did produce any such accusation against him, although in their several speeches they had often occasion to mention that matter of the oath taken by the conspirators (which oath, as Mr. Winter directly saith in his confession,[^408] was taken by themselves being alone and private in a chamber):[^409] for these be the words of Mr. Winter's confession related in the foresaid discourse of the whole treason set forth by His Majesty himself, as before hath been declared. “First,” saith Mr. Thomas Winter, “Mr. Percy said unto Mr. Catesby and myself, ‘Shall we always, gentlemen, talk and never do anything?’ Then Mr. Catesby took him aside and had speech about somewhat to be done; so as first we might all take an oath of secrecy, which we resolved within two or three days to do. So as there we met, Mr. Catesby, Mr. Percy, Mr. John Wright, Mr. Guy Faulks, and myself; and having upon a Primer given each other the oath of secrecy in a chamber where no other body was, we went after into the next room and heard Mass and received the Blessed Sacrament upon the same. Then did Mr. Catesby disclose to Mr. Percy, and I together with Jack Wright tell to Mr. Faulks, the business for which we took this oath, which they both approved; and then was Mr. Percy sent to take the house, where the mine was to be begun,” &c.

[^408: Related in that discourse set forth by His Majesty, as I said before, was concluded of amongst themselves and. Erased in Orig.]

[^409: And that after they went into another chamber to confess and to receive the Blessed Sacrament: so that it appears most evidently by His Majesty's own narration of the conspirators their confessions that Mr. Attorney did that public audience speak or deliver, &c. Erased in Orig. The following passage in the text from For these be the words to he doth not know are in the margin of the Orig.]

Here it is most apparent, that in this great business they consulted only with themselves; they took the oath by themselves; they imparted the matter amongst themselves; and assented unto it of themselves; and did admit neither counsel, nor persuasion, nor presence of any other in talking of the same. As for their hearing Mass and receiving the Blessed Sacrament, who seeth not but that might be done, and the Priest not privy to the matter? Whereof they made no scruple at all, as appears by their present receiving, but esteemed the case and cause meritorious and not belonging to confession. And yet who that Priest was, I have heard Father Gerard protest upon his soul and salvation that he doth not know. This confession of Mr. Thomas Winter is likewise approved in the confession of Mr. Faulks related also in the same discourse of this late intended treason, and contradicted by none. But we must pardon Mr. Attorney this overlashing in this his discourse, which seemed rather to be intended against the Jesuits, than to prove the prisoners guilty that were there present before him; for it appeared by his words in divers places, that the chief mark he shot at was, like another Aman, to root out the whole Order of them, not out of England only, but out of the world, if he could; for to that end he compared them with the Order of the Templars, which was suppressed by the See Apostolic. To that end it pleased him, out of his too great liberty of speech, to accuse them of teaching damned heresies, and besides, that they approve for lawful and meritorious the killing of Kings. In which last point, to show his good-will as well to the Head as to the members, he joined them with the Pope himself, affirming that Pope Sixtus Vtus did not only allow of the fact of that Dominican who killed the King of France, but did highly commend the same in a public oration in his Consistory. No marvel therefore if Mr. Attorney did pass the bounds of justice in his reports of those three Jesuits, and had no regard of truth in that fiction of his own fathered upon Father Gerard in particular, sith he showed so great a malice against the whole Order in general, and was so bold as to accuse the Pope himself in that public place, contrary to the rule of modesty in his speech, which himself had before acknowledged to be needful; and contrary to the counsel that is given in such cases, that at least his memory should be good, if his words were not true. But for the further convincing of that fiction, and full clearing of Father Gerard, I will afterwards briefly set down what course he held, to show his innocency both from that and all other participation in this treason.

Now to proceed to Mr. Attorney his speech. He endeavoured to lay open the foulness of the treason intended, with all the parts and circumstances thereof; and showed how great harm and ruin might have come to the commonwealth by their rash and unnatural attempt. Yet for the persons of those that were the conspirators, whereof some were slain and most of them were present, he said, “though some reported them to be persons of mean account, yet,” said he, “not to wrong them, they are gentlemen of good houses and of excellent parts, howsoever most perniciously seduced, corrupted, and Jesuited” (this was his phrase), “of very competent fortunes and estates;” besides he named three that were of very noble houses. But the most of his speech was directly or indirectly still bent against the Jesuits, as the men most maligned by him, and that, in respect of their religion and the industry they use to promote the same, for other matter he had not there, which he could with any justice or truth allege against them.

When it came to the prisoners' turn to answer for themselves, although they had pleaded not guilty, as I said before, that was partly in respect of those conferences between the Jesuits and them, which were not true and therefore by them denied; partly also for that although they acknowledged the fact, yet they accounted themselves not guilty of any crime in the sight of God,[^410] Whom they sought to serve and please in the action, and would not for any other respect have attempted it. To this effect answered Mr. Robert Winter and his brother Thomas, the elder of which, though he were known to be a man both wise and stout, yet he said but little in that place, as it is thought, for that he saw it was in vain to justify the action, and yet he would not condemn it, but showed a willing mind to suffer for the fact which he confessed. In like manner the younger brother, Thomas, though he were a man of very good discourse and had delivered his mind at large before the Council about the whole matter, and that in so good order and with such resolution that he was much commended and pitied by them all, so far that the Earl of Salisbury said if his case were any other but for this Powder Treason, he would have saved his life; yet now in this place he said little or nothing for himself, rather showing a contented, ready mind to suffer: only he asked mercy of the King for his brother, who was, as he said, drawn into the action by himself. It is not amiss to see what is said of them both by that pamphlet which was then by some base person published of their arraignment and execution; for that being written in as disgraceful manner of them as could be devised, it is the surer witness of anything that may be well interpreted of their mind. Of the elder he hath this, that he said little, but had a guilty conscience, that he swallowed and concealed his grief and made little show of sorrow for that time. Of the younger, he saith that he thought himself already half a saint for his whole villainy, that he said little that either made show of sorrow or sought mercy, but only made a request to the King for his brother, &c. By which relation set down to their disgrace, it may appear what opinion they had of the attempt itself and of their present state of mind in regard of their intention in the former.

[^410: The speech of the prisoners at the bar.]

Mr. Rookwood spake more at large, declaring how he had ever been brought up in the Catholic religion, and taught to fear God from his infancy; that he was the rather induced to attempt this enterprise, as thinking it the only likely means to restore the Catholic religion; that his friendship also and love to Mr. Catesby was such as moved him the sooner to follow his counsel and example: he requested, withal, favour for his wife and children. Of him the aforesaid book hath these words, “That he would fain have made his bringing up and breeding in idolatry to have been some excuse to his villainy; but a fair tale could not help a foul deed.” So he.

Of Mr. Grant the book hath this. “Grant, stubborn in his idolatry, nothing penitent for his villainy, asked little mercy; but, as it were, careless of grace, received the doom of his desert.” In which words one may sufficiently see the state of the man's mind to be answerable to the description in the —[^411] chapter, though in other language here expressed, where the Catholic religion is, as you see, esteemed and called idolatry.

[^411: The sixth.—Ed.]

The youngest brother of the three Winters did speak little, but only that he did not begin nor assist to the Plot of Powder, but was after drawn in by the example and persuasion of his brother.

Mr. Faulks did show a mind answerable to his former proceedings, and gave that reason for his pleading not guilty which I set down before in this chapter: for his own part freely and willingly acknowledging the fact, for which he was ready to suffer.

Mr. Keyes did speak but few words, but such as did make show of great spirit. He affirmed that the persecution was such before they undertook this business, and himself had his goods seized with such violence, that to live in such misery seemed worse than death, and therefore to free both himself and others, he was glad of this occasion.

Bates, being the last of the eight which were all included in one indictment, and being but a serving-man, showed more servile fear both now and at his death than any of them all, answerable perhaps to the motives that made him first to undertake it, which being most like to be the love to his master, or some such human respect, so now he showed most sense in foregoing that which it seems before he had most respected.

Last of all was read a particular indictment of Sir Everard Digby, of which he stood indicted and convicted already in the country in the county of Northampton, where the matter was imparted unto him by Mr. Robert Catesby, and where he gave his consent with promise to provide 1,500l. in money, with horses and other furniture fit for assistance and prosecution of the enterprise, as he himself had formerly confessed and now again acknowledged at the bar. Therefore when his indictment was read to this effect, and he required to speak what he would in his own defence, he answered that he could not deny the fact nor would defend it, but that he must needs defend his intention, which was to please God and profit others by the action; that his motives were neither for ambition and desire of worldly preferment, nor discontentment of his worldly estate, which it was well known he had no cause to mislike, nor yet was he moved thereunto by malice or ill-will against any particular person; but that his motives were these. First, that which moved him to listen and to trust and to conceal the matter being opened unto him, was his love to Mr. Catesby, for whose love and friendship he would have adventured his estates and fortunes. But another greater reason which moved him indeed to enter into the action was the relief of Catholics, for whom he saw no other remedy, seeing that the King, he said, had broken his word and promise of giving relief unto them, at least by toleration; which promise, said he, they received from him by divers messages; and whereof now there was no hope at all, but rather that they did all expect and see a preparation to make other laws in that Parliament more strict than the former, and that they had to that end packed all the Puritans together, which was the cause that moved them the rather to attempt that matter against the Parliament House. But the chiefest motive he said was the cause of religion, which alone, said he, seeing it lay at the stake, in that behalf he neglected his estate, his life, his name, his memory, yea, and his posterity and all the world and whatsoever the world could afford him. These were his words as near as they could be taken, which were noted by very many, and he exceedingly pitied even by many of those that were enemies to his religion, in which he showed so great a resolution and zeal, with so great estimation thereof and contempt of himself in regard thereof, which many of the hearers did so generally commend and so publicly affirm that they could never forget it, he being known to have enjoyed and that he might still have enjoyed as much worldly contentment as any man of his estate in England. After this he made some petitions unto the King and Council, that whereas his fault against the State had passed no further than himself, he neither having drawn others into the action nor performed anything to the hurt of others, therefore he desired in like manner that his punishment might be extended no further but to himself, and so that his wife and children might neither of them sustain loss, but the one enjoy her jointure, the other his lands, so far as they were entailed upon them in law before this matter was thought of. Also that his debts might be discharged out of his estate; and for himself he craved no other favour but that, if it pleased the King, he might be beheaded instead of hanging. Lastly, whereas he had noted in the indictment and in Mr. Attorney his speech, divers of the Fathers of the Society to be accused as principal counsellors and persuaders unto this enterprise, he there protested that in his conscience he thought them all clear. And in particular for Father Gerard he could best testify, being best acquainted with him, and therefore was bound in conscience to set down his knowledge that “he was wholly innocent and did never so much as know of the matter, yea (said he), I never durst tell him of it, for fear he would have drawn me out of it.” This was his testimony and protestation in that public place, being ready to receive the sentence of death; which he was likewise beginning to iterate again at the time of his death, but that he was interrupted. Now concerning this matter, if it were not for staying the reader too long from the story itself, I could here set down certain letters sent unto the Council by Father Gerard at this very time, which would make it apparent that he never knew of the conspiracy until all England knew it. But for that this chapter will grow too long, I will only set down the course he took to clear himself and the contents of the letters in few words, though I have now the copies by me procured of purpose to have been set down in this place.

I made mention before in the —[^412] chapter how Father Gerard, before the proclamation came out, seeing himself to be searched for as guilty of this conspiracy, did write a long letter of protestation that he was wholly innocent and had not the least knowledge of the matter. This letter was seen to divers and even to the King himself, as hath been said, and gave good satisfaction. But notwithstanding this, some heavy friends of his (to whom he never gave any cause of offence) procured a proclamation to be set forth against him and two others of the Society, as hath been said; which when he perceived, and knowing very well that there was no proof at all which was or could be brought forth against him, he presently wrote four letters and sent them to London, three of which were to three of the chiefest of the Council and one to Sir Everard Digby, then prisoner in the Tower. The letters to the Council were to the Duke of Lenox, the Earl of Northampton, and the Earl of Salisbury; in all which he did humbly and instantly require, that whereas he was accused of so great a crime, in which he was not partaker in the least degree, nor ever in any sort made privy unto it, that it would please them for God's cause and for their love to equity, to show him so much justice as to afford him such trial as might be made of his innocency; whereof he proposed in those letters, two kinds, the one affirmative, the other negative. The one was that the letter to Sir Everard Digby, which was sent enclosed in theirs and unsealed might be delivered in their presence, and he examined upon the points thereof, containing a discourse between him and Father Gerard but three days before the Plot of Powder was publicly discovered, by which discourse (if any such discourse were then between them) it was most apparent that Father Gerard knew nothing in the world of the conspiracy. And of the verity of that discourse, the Council might by that letter make full trial, in which the time and place and words that passed between them were expressly set down, all which, if Sir Everard Digby did not affirm and agree with his letter, he would grant they had some proof against him. The trial by negatives which he required was this: that it would please them to cause all the conspirators at the hour of their death to be publicly examined, whether ever any of them had imparted the matter unto him, or would but say upon their conscience that he had the least knowledge thereof, either by them or any other means. And if they did not all of them deny it (being urged, as they would answer the Highest Judge, to speak the sincere truth), he would then yield they had some proof against him, so that the parties that should so accuse him did it not in hope of pardon, but did certainly know they should die and did make show to die in the fear of God and hope of their salvation.

[^412: The ninth.—Ed.]

These two ways of trial were proposed and most earnestly requested by Father Gerard in those his letters, which were as sufficient to try the truth of the matter (all circumstances considered) as any could be wished. And these letters were sent in such time to London, as that they certainly came to the Council's hands that very day of the arraignment of the conspirators; so that there was time enough to have had both kinds of trial made which he required, and in equity and justice might require.

But neither of them were performed. And it is thought generally that they were forborne, because it was sufficiently known beforehand that thereby he would be proved clear, whereof the Council were before that persuaded; but that they were willing to have the proclamation go forward against him, as against the rest, to hinder him thereby from conversion of souls and drawing many from them to the Catholic faith, and that of the better sort, with whom his conversation and practice was for the most part; which made them so desirous to take him by means of the proclamation, even after they knew he was not guilty of this treason whereof he was accused.

And see the providence of God. That Sir Everard Digby, knowing nothing at all of this Father's demand of trial by his testimony, yet hearing him so wrongfully accused in the process against them, he did of his own accord there publicly protest his knowledge of the Father's innocency, yea, and of his inclination also against such practices, which was more than the Father desired in his letters should be demanded. Now, because these trials were not made which Father Gerard so earnestly requested, he therefore, before his going out of England, did publish these letters to some of his friends, that the world might see how clear he was, and what equal and full trial he offered to show his innocency.

Now, whereas it was reported that Bates had accused Father Gerard, and that, upon his accusation Father Gerard was put in the proclamation with the others, that is also apparently disproved by Bates his own letter, written a day or two before his arraignment, and sent unto a Priest his last ghostly Father, who did help him with the Sacraments after his examinations and some weakness showed in them, as may appear also by his letter, whereof the original is kept under his own hand, and may be seen to be the same handwriting which is annexed unto his examinations themselves. The true copy is this:

“Sir, I humbly thank you for your great comfort and pains taken for me. I praise God I find myself more stronger to resist, and do hope shall more and more. Sir, when I was at Hobadge House, where my master was slain, that morning at my going away from him, by reason of the misfortune that fell amongst us by powder, Mr. Christopher Wright flung me out of a window an 100l., and desired me, as I was a Catholic, to give unto his wife and his brother's wife 80l., and take 20l. myself. I took out by guess some 22l., as I think, and left it with a friend of mine, and desired him, if I did miscarry in this action, he should bestow it amongst my children. Now, I would entreat you to give my fellow George instructions what to do in it. I refer it to you. Mr. Wright had of me at times, in money and kine, as much as came to some 28l., but my master told me he would pay me, but he did not. Now whether my wife may take that money out of that I refer to you. Also, further, I have dealt with my keeper to deal with the Clerk of the Council for my pardon, and have promised an 100l. if it may be had, which I made account that money should have served that turn; but I am out of all hope for that, unless it be God's will to deliver me. This morning I was sent for down, and there was a fellow ready with a new suit of fustian, and my keeper made me to essay it, and neither said it was for me nor anything, but I know it was provided for me. The meaning I know not. And before that my Lord of Salisbury asked me what I wanted, and caused the keeper to buy me a new gown, and bade him use me extraordinary well. All this makes me full of doubts, for I fear it is but to serve their own turns of me and then to hang me. Is it not best for me, if the clothes be offered me, to refuse them? I pray you resolve me in that, for I have a purpose to tell the keeper, ‘I have clothes good enough to serve me as long as I live, I fear, and therefore will none.’ I beseech you to send me word what your opinion is in these things being offered me. At my last being before them I told them I thought Mr. Greenway knew of this business, but I did not charge the others with it, but that I saw them all together with my master at my Lord Vaux's, and that after I saw Mr. Walley and Mr. Greenway at Coughton, and it is true. For I was sent thither with a letter, and Mr. Greenway rode with me to Mr. Winter's to my master, and from thence he rode to Mr. Abington's. This I told them and no more. For which I am heartily sorry for, and I trust God will forgive me, for I did it not out of malice but in hope to gain my life by it, which I think now did me no good. Thus desiring your daily prayers I commit you to God.”

This is the true copy of his letter, by which it appears that a man so weak and so ignorant, as here he showeth himself to be, might easily be wrought upon, especially by those means that here he expresseth were used to him; and that such an one to save his life would strain his conscience far, as indeed he did when he saith that he saw those three at my Lord Vaux's; for in truth he did not, nor saw Father Gerard of a year or two before; but if he had seen him in that place at that time, yet that had been no accusation of this treason (as is sufficiently proved in the —[^413] chapter where the same matter is handled); and as himself directly saith in this letter, that he did not accuse him at all, nor Father Walley, nor the other neither of knowledge; but only that he thought he knew of the business: whereby it appears that it is not true, which was afterwards affirmed in Father Garnett's arraignment that Bates had told Mr. Greenway of the matter in confession. And this Bates being the only one of the conspirators of whom it was reported that he had accused Father Gerard, which here in plain words you see himself doth say he did not, it remains apparent that never any did accuse him. And this letter under Bates his own hand being haply brought to Father Gerard a little before his departure out of England,[^414] he did annex the true copy of the same unto the letters before mentioned, which he had sent unto the Council, and sent them unto a friend to be published by him after his departure; and of them all there be divers copies taken, of which myself have one, in which there is this clause amongst others for his clearing, which methinks doth offer enough, if reason may be accepted and the promise there alleged performed. After he had offered and humbly desired of the Council two sufficient kinds of trial of his cause before specified, seeing that neither of them were performed, in his letter wherewith he published those offers made, he citeth a sentence out of my Lord of Salisbury his book then newly come forth, wherein the Earl declared his mind to be no ways bent to seek the blood of any but such as had themselves laboured to seek the blood of others, saying that he only desired, “Necis artifices arte perire suâ.”[^415] This sentence (worthy indeed the pen and practice of a Councillor in so eminent authority[^416]) Father Gerard desired should be made the rule or square whereby the line of his accusation might be straitened; and offered that if it could be duly proved, that ever, either in this most unnatural treason or in any other action, he had wrought or sought the death of any man, let him then be punished with as cruel a death as wit of man could devise, and find no eye nor heart to pity him. This was his offer, and then he addeth further: “But if,” saith he, “neither this can be proved nor any proofs of my innocency (whereof there be divers produced for me and none against me) may be in my case admitted, but that I must remain, &c., yet I would not the world should think it doth or can bereave me of that quiet and contentment of mind, which I have in the confident expectation of God's protection and favour;” and so he goeth forward, laying down sufficient reasons for both to the full satisfaction of the reader, both of his innocency touching this accusation and of his willing acceptance of God's blessed will and disposition.

[^413: The ninth.—Ed.]

[^414: When he meant to publish those foresaid letters he had sent unto the Council, and did withal. Erased in Orig.]

[^415: That the craftsmen of death should perish by their own craft.]

[^416: As the Earl of Salisbury now is placed in. Erased in Orig.]

Now to return unto Sir Everard Digby. After he had ended his speech with the foresaid protestation,[^417] that he thought assuredly all the Fathers were innocent of this treason, and that he knew for certain that Father Gerard had not so much as any knowledge at all thereof, then the Earl of Northampton made a speech, which he chiefly directed to Sir Everard Digby in answer of that point, especially where Sir Everard urged the King's promise for toleration. And, first, the Earl said that, if he could lament any man upon earth in that case, he could pity him in respect of his worth many ways, and the good opinion he had formerly conceived of him. He witnessed also that Queen Elizabeth esteemed him much, and, to his own knowledge, had spoken of Sir Everard with great grace. Then, after a sufficient discourse, proving by sound reasons the foulness of this treason, his Lordship came to that promise of the King, which there he utterly denied, and proved it by Watson his confession before his death, who had been a chief man to divulge the same before. And that Watson affirmed likewise, he had given out such hopes before contrary to his knowledge, only to move Catholics to a willing acceptance of the King. All which, though we admit as true, being affirmed by the Earl as spoken to himself, yet Catholics are not thereby persuaded that Watson received no such hopes from His Majesty when he kneeled before him in Scotland. For they think it much more likely that Watson, being in this peril of death and in the power of the Council, would misreport his former persuasion of mind and the cause thereof, thereby to please the more, and by pleasing to obtain favour, which divers of his other words at that time, related also in this speech, did plainly show he did both desire and hope for. Whereas, when he returned out of Scotland he had no such cause to dissemble, and to relate such assured promises to so many Catholics, as it is known he did, if himself had been out of hope thereof; yea, and that he did not therein dissemble his sequent actions did apparently prove. For he was the first man that laboured to persuade Catholics to take arms against His Majesty, as hath been declared before (though, thanks be to God, he could prevail but with a very few therein), which, happening within the first year, it appears he ran that contrary course so soon as he had the contrary opinion; which, if he had brought with him out of Scotland (as he affirmed to the Earl of Northampton in the time of his imprisonment), then had it been more easy for him to have persuaded Catholics there was no hope to be had, and so to have kept him out, than after he had assured them the contrary, and the King was settled in his throne, then to persuade them thereunto, which then was much more difficult and unlikely. And, therefore, nothing likely he would first have been so forward to plant that tree, which so soon after himself did first endeavour to cut down, and that with hazard and loss of his life, unless he had first expected other fruit than afterwards he found. But Watson's reports were not the greatest grounds that Catholics did build their hopes upon. Divers men, his betters much, did affirm the same, whose words were more esteemed than either Watson's or Percy's in that cause. It was not the least part of needful policy that such a conceit should run for current in the minds of Catholics generally, and such hopes to be thought likely at that time by whomsoever they were given out, which I will not here dispute; for that persuasion, no doubt, did strengthen much the Catholics' mind, which was found so ready to receive their King with all peace and comfort. And I make no question but if it pleased His Majesty to perform as much as then was hoped, it would prove no less profitable in all respects unto the stability of peace and happiness than pleasing to the receivers, in regard of their ease and mitigation of their afflictions.

[^417: Of his knowledge touching Father Gerard his innocency. Erased in Orig.]

Unto the speech of Sir Everard Digby the Earl of Salisbury did likewise answer in defence of the King's word, esteeming that Sir Everard did seem to tax His Majesty with breach of promise, which many think was not the intention of the prisoner, but only to show that, such general hopes being conceived upon some likely ground as they presumed, and now seeing all hopes to fail, they were the more easily induced to run this other course for the redress of their own miseries. And so, against the likelihood of these hopes, the Earl's speech did prove fully that the King had always professed the contrary religion most earnestly, and that His Majesty was so far from giving hope of toleration that he would not endure the least motion thereof to be proposed. And yet the Earl in the same speech declared how His Majesty had dealt favourably with divers principal Catholic gentlemen who were sent for to the Court in the time of Watson his treason before mentioned; at which time finding them free from having their hands in any treason (said the Earl) they were dismissed with encouragement to persist in their dutiful carriage, and that the payments for not going to Church should be forgiven them in respect of their so much loyalty showed at the King's entry, and for that they had afterwards kept themselves so free.[^418] In this speech the Earl of Salisbury did show great zeal to defend His Majesty from the least touch of breach of his promise, and therein to disprove that which he thought would be conceived of Sir Everard Digby's words. And though otherwise he acknowledged Sir Everard to be his alliance by marriage, yet it is thought that in regard chiefly of this his speech, he had not his petition granted of being beheaded, but was with all the rest adjudged presently to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, according to the ordinary form of judgment in case of high treason. So then, having received the sentence of death, they were all returned to their prisons until Thursday and Friday following, which were the days of their execution; only Mr. John Winter (being the youngest of the three brothers) was not then put to death, but carried after into the country and suffered at Worcester, as shall afterward be declared.

[^418: This clause may be omitted in this place, and serve better to be alleged in the last chapter. Orig. in marg.]

[^419] On Thursday, therefore, being the 30th of January, four of the eight were drawn upon sledges and hurdles from the Tower to St. Paul's Churchyard, where they were to suffer, vidlt., Sir Everard Digby, Mr. Robert Winter, Mr. John Graunt, and —— Bates. And being arrived there, first Sir Everard Digby was taken off the hurdle and led up to the scaffold, of whom the pamphlet before alleged set forth of their judgment and death as much to disgrace them as might be, yet hath these words, “First went up Digby, a man of a goodly personage and a manly aspect. He enforced himself to speak as stoutly as he could; his speech was not long and to little good purpose, only that his belied conscience (being but indeed a blinded conceit) had led him into this offence, which, in respect of his religion (alias indeed idolatry), he held no offence, but, in respect of the law, he held an offence, for which he asked forgiveness; and so, with vain and superstitious crossing of himself, betook him to his Latin prayers, mumbling to himself, refusing to have any prayers of any but of the Romish Catholics, went up the ladder.” Thus he. By which relation, though set down with much ill-will against him and his religion, yet it is easy to see thereby what state of mind he died in. The truth is he gave great satisfaction to all the standers-by.[^420] When he was first brought up to the scaffold, after he had commended himself to God, being wished, as the custom is, to acknowledge his treason for which he died, he did accordingly acknowledge the fact intended according to his judgment, but withal he declared that his motives were no evil will to any, nor any love to himself for worldly respects, but the ending of persecution of Catholics, the good of souls, and the cause of religion. In which regard he could not condemn himself of any offence to God, though he granted he had offended the laws of the realm, for which he asked their pardon, and was willing to suffer death, and thought nothing too much to suffer for those respects which had moved him to that enterprise. The preachers standing by, as the fashion is, did move him to pray with them. He absolutely refused, and desired the assistance and prayers of all good Catholics, himself fell to his prayers with such devotion as much moved all the beholders. And when he had done, he stood up and saluted all the noblemen and gentlemen that stood upon the scaffold, every one according to his estate, to the noblemen with a lower congé, to others with more show of equality, but to all in so friendly and so cheerful a manner, as they afterwards said, he seemed so free from fear of death as that he showed no feeling at all of any passion therein, but took his leave of them as he was wont to do when he went from the Court or out of the city to his own house in the country; yet withal he showed so great devotion of mind, so much fervour and humility in his prayers, and so great confidence in God, as that very many said[^421] they made no doubt but his soul was happy, and wished themselves might die in the like state of mind. He was no sooner turned off the ladder but very speedily cut down, and that with such haste as that he fell upon his face, and so somewhat bruised his forehead, yet, though he could not be dead, he made no resistance at the block whilst he was in quartering; and after his bowels and heart were cast into the fire, and his head cut off, the hangman holding it up as is usual to do, it was noted that there was no alteration at all in his countenance, but had the same man-like and comely aspect he had before his death.

[^419: Sir Everard Digby his death.]

[^420: Who returned from the execution full of pity towards so worthy a man, yea, so full of admiration of his fortitude and great opinion of his devotion that they could talk almost of nothing else all that day. Erased in Orig.]

[^421: Here wants something. In another hand, erased in Orig.]

[^422] After him went up Mr. Robert Winter, of whom the foresaid pamphlet hath this, “After him went Winter up to the scaffold, where he used few words to any good effect; without asking mercy either of God or the King for his offence, went up the ladder, and making a few prayers to himself, staid not long for his execution.” By which words it may appear that Mr. Winter died much in the like mind and manner as the other gentleman before him. He was esteemed in his life to be one of the wisest and most resolute and sufficient gentlemen in Worcestershire, where he dwelt, as formerly hath been declared.

[^422: Mr Robert Winter his death.]

After him went up Mr. Graunt, who showed extraordinary zeal, as it may appear by the foresaid book, which saith “that he, being abominably blinded with his idolatry, though he confessed his offence to be heinous, yet would fain have excused it by his conscience and religion. He having used a few idle words to ill effect, was, as his fellows before him, led the way to the halter, and so, after his crossing of himself, to the last part of his tragedy.” Whereby it appears he alleged the same reasons and died with the same resolution the former had done.

Last of them was Bates, of whom the book saith “that he seemed sorry for his offence, and asked forgiveness of God and the King and of the whole kingdom, prayed to God for the preservation of them all; and, as he said, only for his love to his master (Mr. Robert Catesby) drawn to forget his duty to God, his King, and country.” These words which Bates spake at his death, and the mind he showed, declare sufficiently what hath been said of him before; and his motives being but human respects (as here he acknowledgeth), no marvel though he had showed less store of grace and assistance thereof both before and at his death. But seeing he showed to die penitent for his fact, it is to be hoped he found mercy at God's hands. Thus ended the execution of this day. And many of the beholders returned full of pity and compassion towards so worthy-minded men as the first three were, especially Sir Everard Digby, whose fortitude of mind they did so much admire, and had so great opinion of his devotion that for all that day and some time after they could talk almost of nothing else.

The next day, being Friday, were drawn from the Tower to the Old Palace in Westminster over against the Parliament House, Mr. Thomas Winter, the second brother of the Winters, Mr. Ambrose Rookwood, Mr. Robert Keyes, and Mr. Guy Faulks. By the way, as they were drawn upon the Strand, Mr. Rookwood had provided that he should be admonished when he came over against the lodging where his wife lay; and being come unto the place, he opened his eyes (which before he kept shut to attend better to his prayers), and seeing her stand in a window to see him pass by, he raised himself as well as he could up from the hurdle, and said aloud unto her: “Pray for me, pray for me.” She answered him also aloud: “I will; and be of good courage and offer thyself wholly to God. I, for my part, do as freely restore thee to God as He gave thee unto me.”

[^423] Being all come to the place of execution, first Mr. Thomas Winter was led to the scaffold, as the principal in the business, who was from the first acquainted therewith, and a chief actor therein. Of him the book saith that “he seemed after a sort as it were sorry for his offence, and yet crossed himself,” saith he, “as though those were sufficient wards against the devil; that he protested to die a true Catholic, and so went up the ladder.” Truth is, Mr. Thomas Winter spake not much at his execution, seeming more willing to prepare himself for death; whereat some of the standers-by marvelling, who knew him to be a wise and well-spoken man, seemed desirous to have him speak at large. But he answered he had spoken at large unto the Council concerning all their intentions and the causes that moved them to that enterprise, and he hoped he had given satisfaction in the whole; that this was no time to discourse; he was come to die, wherein he desired the prayers and assistance of all good Catholics. Only this he said in particular, that whereas divers of the Fathers of the Society were accused of counselling and furthering them in this treason, he could clear them all, and particularly Father Tesimond, from all fault and participation therein. And indeed Mr. Thomas Winter might best clear that good Father, with whom he was best acquainted, and knew very well how far he was from counselling or plotting that business. For himself, having first told the Father of it (as I have heard), long after the thing was ready, and that in such secret as he might not utter it, but with his leave, unto his Superior only, the Father, both then and after, did so earnestly persuade him, and by him the rest, to leave off that course (as his duty was), that Mr. Winter might well find himself bound in conscience to clear this Father from his wrongful accusation of being a counseller and furtherer of the Plot.[^424]

[^423: Mr. Thomas Winter his death.]

[^424: This sentence in the original is underlined, and marked with crosses in the margin.]

[^425] Next him came Mr. Rookwood, who made a speech of some longer time, acknowledged and asked forgiveness for his offence to His Majesty and the State. He prayed earnestly for the King and Queen and all their children, and wished them long life and a happy reign, and last of all (which, the foresaid book saith, was to mar all the pottage with one filthy weed) he prayed God to make the King a Catholic. And so, desiring favour for his wife and children, protesting, saith the book, to die in his idolatry, a Romish Catholic, he went up the ladder, and hanging until he was almost dead, was drawn to the block, where he gave his last gasp. The devotion and resolute mind of this gentleman was very well known to many, and he was very much pitied, as he had been much beloved.

[^425: Mr. Rookwood his death.]

After him came Mr. Keyes, of whom the book saith thus: “That he, like a desperate villain, used little speech, showed small or no sign of repentance, went up the ladder stoutly, where, not staying the hangman's turn, turned himself off, and with the swing broke the halter, but after his fall was quickly drawn to the block and there divided into four parts.” But he did not, as here it is said, leap down of himself, but when he thought himself ready he showed his ready mind to go off the ladder without force, lest the hangman should take him on a sudden, when his mind was not actually upon it, and so be cause of some little reluctation.

Last of all Mr. Faulks was led to the scaffold, of whom the book hath this: “That his body being weak with torture and sickness he was scarce able to go up the ladder; also that he made no long speech, but after a sort seeming to be sorry for his offence, asked a kind of forgiveness of the King and the State for his bloody intent, and, with his crosses and idle ceremonies, made his end upon the gallows and the block.” Thus saith the author of that pamphlet, and where he said that Mr. Faulks seemed to be sorry after a sort, and asked a kind of forgiveness, he maketh it apparent that he did as his fellows had done, acknowledge their intended action to be displeasing to the King and State, whose favour they desired, and therefore in that respect asked them forgiveness; but that they did not hold it for an offence to God in respect of their intention to please Him and serve Him in the whole, as thinking when they began the action and professing when they ended their life that there was no other likely means to restore religion in England. And would to God herein they had been as well advised as they were absolute to believe and follow their own advice. Then had they neither hurt themselves nor others by this rash and heady enterprise, most unfit for subjects to undertake against their Prince and country, especially all attempts being so forbidden by His Holiness as they were, and so often and earnestly dissuaded by the Fathers of the Society, as hath been declared. And yet it is strange to see how impudently that heretical pamphlet which I have cited before so often of their arraignment and death (set forth by one T.W., I know not who), doth rail first at the Pope himself and then against all Jesuits and Priests, as against the authors and plotters of this business. For he saith: “Thus I have ended my discourse of the arraignment and execution of these eight traitors.” Then a little after he prosecuteth in this manner: “Was there ever seen such a hellish Plot since the betraying of the Lord of Heaven? If the Pope were not a very devil, and these Jesuits, or rather Jebusites and satanical seminaries, very spirits of wickedness, that whisper in the ears of Evahs to bring a world of Adams to destruction, how could nature be senseless or reason so graceless,” &c. So he proceedeth, inveighing against His Holiness and religion, and all that he imagined did favour or further the same religion in any great measure.

But silence is the best answer to such witless and wilful assertions, uttered against the truth so many ways manifestly proved. But this fellow, and such as he is, will rather “impugnare agnitam veritatem”[^426] than omit any opportunity to revile against the Pope and those that most do stand for his authority; which is no news for poor Catholics in England to hear of daily to their grief, long before this act was commenced or thought of by these few laymen, who had not the counsel or help of any one Priest amongst them. Yea, for these many years the most part of their sermons is in this relative kind, devising names of reproach against His Holiness, so far forth that many youths, when they are first brought to be Catholics, will hardly be brought to think that he is a natural man, and not some devil or monster, as they have heard him often described. And this custom of the heretics is so common, and yet so grievous for zealous Catholics to endure, that it is rather to be pitied than marvelled that these few gentlemen, being men of great spirit, did want patience to endure any longer when they saw all other hopes of help to fail them. We hope all others will be warned hereafter, and temper their zeal by the counsel of their guides, which, if these had done, according to the earnest wishes and serious labours of Father Garnett, then had not he sustained so many troubles (as I am now to declare) for their trespass, which he by all lawful means sought to hinder.

[^426: Impugn the known truth.]

Chapter XIII. Of The Arraignment And Condemnation Of Father Garnett.

Whereas it was now plainly and directly known unto the Council (by the means and in the manner aforesaid) how far this matter could be laid unto Father Garnett's charge; and that they had no further expectation to find him guilty of any help or furtherance at all given by him to this Powder Treason, it was resolved to proceed against him only upon his simple knowledge thereof which he had received in confession; esteeming it not fit to let go this opportunity, sith no greater advantage could be gotten; especially seeing by this time all men were full of expectation what would become of the matter after so long time of trial and so many and strict examinations. It was hoped also, that howsoever he might excuse himself from fault in the sight of God for not revealing the seal and secret of confession, yet that he could not justify it before the world: it being accounted treason by the laws of England to know of treason intended and not to reveal it. In which law (now) the knowledge which is had by confession is not excepted; because confession itself being in England rejected, the good and necessity of the secrecy thereof is not so much esteemed, as their public peace and prosperous proceedings in their worldly estate. Upon this ground therefore it was hoped they had matter enough against Father Garnett both to make him odious to the people, and all Jesuits for his sake; and therefore it was intended, that his trial should be performed in the most public and solemn manner they could devise, thereby to disgrace the more both him and his religion; for so in express words the Earl of Salisbury did twice publicly affirm in the time of his arraignment; and that otherwise such preparation and solemnity had not been needful for the arraignment of a poor religious man, and said “he held himself much honoured that day to be an assistant where God's cause should be so much honoured” (meaning the Protestants' religion). And how should this be performed? “By discrediting,” said he, “the person of Garnett, on whom the common adversary had thought to confer the usurpation of so eminent jurisdiction.” So that one may see plainly the whole day's work was bent against religion; and whatsoever was pretended against Father Garnett in this matter, all was directly intended “in odium Catholicæ Fidei.”[^427] And so we may see in the process of the accusation, when the Attorney brought against Father Garnett all other former matter that had been forged against the martyrs in Queen Elizabeth's time, with which (if they had been true) yet they could no more have charged Father Garnett with them in justice, than the child that was then unborn.

[^427: In hatred of the Catholic faith.]

Therefore the day appointed being come, which was a Friday, the 28th March, about eight of the clock, he was brought from the Tower in a coach with the Lieutenant of the Tower, Sir William Wade, and another Knight, the curtains being close drawn about them. Which manner of carriage to judgment being very extraordinary and not used to any before him, the people did much wonder at it, and thought it strange he should be so carried, considering that most of those that were indeed conspirators in the treason were men of better birth and blood than he (which by them is much respected) and yet were used in much different manner. But some did more truly guess that this was not done for any grace unto him (whom they sought to disgrace in all they could), but to grace their own cause, by making him seem a man of greatest account amongst the Papists, against whom they meant to object and hoped to prove the Powder Treason, and so all Papists to be as it were proved guilty in him they chiefly esteemed and followed. But the curtains doubtless were kept close, that the people might not be moved with the sight of so reverend a man, or he moved upon any occasion to speak unto them in his own clearing.

There were set in place of judgment in the Guildhall the Lord Mayor of London (who in that Court is the King's Lieutenant), the Lord Charles Howard, Earl of Nottingham, the Lord Thomas Howard, Earl of Suffolk, the Lord Somerset, Earl of Worcester, the Lord Henry Howard, Earl of Northampton, the Lord Robert Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, with Sir John Popham, Lord Chief Justice of England, the Lord Chief Baron, and Justice Yelverton, Commissioners for His Majesty in that behalf, The Lieutenant of the Tower being come with Father Garnett to the place of judgment, he returned his writ unto the Council (by virtue whereof he had kept the prisoner) together with the body of the prisoner there present.[^428]

[^428: But the Commission was not read, which was expected as needful. Erased in Orig.]

The indictment was read and the prisoner called to hold up his hand at the bar, as the fashion is. The effect of the indictment was this. “That Henry Garnett, alias Walley, alias Farmer, alias Darcy, had conspired with Robert Catesby and the rest of his confederates (the 9th of June last past, in the parish of St Michael in the ward of Queenhithe in London) to withdraw the hearts of the subjects from their due obedience to God and their King, and to deprive the King of his crown, to kill him and the Prince, and to slaughter the whole Parliament assembled, to raise rebellion, to change religion, to ruin the commonwealth and to bring in strangers: and that this 9th of June he met with Catesby and Tesimond and did treat of means to accomplish the same, and did conclude that Winter, Faulks and others should blow up with powder the Parliament House.” To this indictment the prisoner pleaded “not guilty,” and for his trial referred himself to God and his country as the manner is. Whereupon a jury of substantial citizens was impanelled, and twelve of them sworn to try the issue between His Majesty and Henry Garnett according to the evidence produced against him; which being done, the indictment was read the second time, and then Sir John Crooke, Knight, the King's Serjeant, began to plead in this manner (as near as it could be remembered by two or three sufficient men that were present and did carefully observe both that and all the other speeches).

[^429] “‘Nihil est occultum,’” said he, “‘quod non manifestabitur; nihil secretum quod non revelabitur.’[^430] Thus saith the Truth itself, ‘qui consilium pravorum dissipat:’[^431] which as it is generally true, so is the truth thereof laid open in the discovery of the late horrible treason, which though it were closely carried, yet by the providence of God, it hath been most apparently revealed. And truly when I cast mine eyes upon this prisoner, the rotten root of this corrupted tree of treason, I am stricken with great horror to think that under the cover of so grave a countenance, should lurk such a poisoned heart. He is a man, ‘multorum nominum sed nullius boni nominis’[^432]—of no good name, nor honest conversation, but infamous for many treasons, and especially for this last and most abominable treason, whereby he intended the subversion of the King, Queen, Prince, State, and religion; and for testimony of his guiltiness therein,” he said, “they should have ‘loquentia signa, testimonia rerum,’ and ‘confitentem reum,’ nay, ‘reos confitentes,’[^433] that is the persons guilty accusing one the other. We have,” said he, “Garnett and Hall accusing Greenway, as shall be laid open by the ensuing discourse of him to whom it belongeth.”

[^429: The speech of Mr. Crooke, the King's Serjeant.]

[^430: ‘There is nothing hid, that shall not be revealed; nor secret that shall not be known’ (St. Matt. x. 26).]

[^431: God ‘disappointeth the counsel of the wicked’ (Job v. 13).]

[^432: Of many names but of no good name.]

[^433: Speaking signs, the testimonies of circumstances, and the confession of the accused.]

[^434] This speech being ended, Sir Edward Coke, His Majesty's Attorney-General, began his speech with a low voice, that so his words could not at the first be so distinctly heard: but it tended to this effect. “That this was a later act of this horrible Powder Treason, that first he craved pardon of their Lordships that he might reiterate some things of which he had formerly discoursed, ‘quia nunquam nimis dicitur, quod nunquam satis discitur.’[^435] Secondly, he craved pardon that without offence to any he might nominate some great persons, who were sometimes interested in some of these causes; but he would do it without any disgrace at all unto their persons, because,” said he, “there is great difference to be made between times of hostility and times of amity. Thirdly, he desired to satisfy two sorts of people that might marvel this execution of justice should be so long deferred; the first of such, as might think such delays inconvenient lest the impunity of the malefactors might seem to patronize the offence; the second of such persons, as might think the delay of trial argued his clearness in the cause. To those both he answered, that the Lords of the Council (whose great wisdom he would not in that place much commend, because ‘coram laudare est clam vituperare’[^436]) had spent many days in examinations of those affairs, and that the prisoner had been twenty-three [times] examined; so that the trial could not have been much sooner.” (But this seemed to many rather an excuse than accusation to the prisoner, in whom there could not with so much labour and in so long time be found any crime to be justly imposed, for “frustra fit per plura quod fieri potest per pauciora.”[^437]) “But to draw nearer the cause of the prisoner,” said Mr. Attorney. “Henry Garnett, alias Walley, &c, is a man grave, discreet, wise, learned, and of excellent ornaments both of nature and arts.” (He might have added grace also, if he had had grace to see it.) “And one that, if he will, may do His Majesty as much good service as any subject I know in England.” (By this and the like speeches which it seems they used often, to work him to yield from profession of his faith, it is apparent they would have given him both life and much preferment, if he had not rather chosen to die for God than to live to the world.) “Besides this man,” saith he, “was a scholar in Winchester, from thence went to Oxford, and there was well esteemed.” (This Mr. Attorney did mistake, for he was never student in Oxford.) “But he hath abused his learning to the ruin of his country, as we shall hereafter declare in the discourse following, wherein I will speak of nothing but of this late horrible treason; which treason for distinction sake, I will call the Jesuits' treason: for the Jesuits were the authors thereof; therefore I will not do them the wrong to take from them anything which is theirs, especially seeing in every crime ‘plus peccat author quam actor,’[^438] as it appeareth by Adam and Eve and the serpent.” (But here he presupposeth Father Garnett had counselled the Plot, as the indictment had said before, but that never was, nor ever can be proved.) “In this discourse I will speak of circumstances and observations touching the matter in hand: of no other circumstances but of treason, and of no other treasons but the Jesuits' treasons; and of no other Jesuits' treasons but such as shall particularly concern this prisoner, seeing all have been practised, since he was their Superior; and these circumstances I will divide into precedent, concurrent, and subsequent.”

[^434: The speech of the Attorney-General.]

[^435: For that can never be said too often which cannot be sufficiently well learnt.]

[^436: Public praise is private blame.]

[^437: It is a mistake to use many means when a few will suffice.]

[^438: The author of an evil is more guilty than the actual perpetrator.]

“For the precedent circumstances; you must understand this man hath been in England this twenty years, and from the very first hour he set foot in England hath been a notorious traitor, because he came in contrary to a statute made the year before his coming in, Anno 27º. of our late sovereign of happy memory, whereby it was made high treason for any Priest that had received Orders from any authority derived from the See of Rome beyond the seas, which I beseech your Lordships to observe; for of Queen Mary's Priests nothing was spoken in the law.” (And the reason hereof is given in the former ——[^439] chapter, but here it is apparent, that this treason so earnestly urged, was merely matter of religion, as in all former martyrs.) “Contrary to which statute this prisoner came in, and by consequence at that very instant was a traitor. But he will say, this is a new law; these laws were never heard of before Luther's days; this law is a cruel law, a bloody law, prohibiting men to exercise their function, to gain souls to God; and that their religion is the old religion, where ours is the new and confined in England, where on the contrary side their religion is universal and embraced of the greatest part of this Christian world. And thus for the maintenance of their rotten religion, do they seek to disgrace our gospel and do calumniate just laws with title of cruelty. But to this I answer,” saith he, “that if our religion be as ancient as Luther, it is more ancient than the Jesuits are.[^440] Albeit it neither be contained in those narrow limits of place, nor bounds of time, which they feignedly imagine, having been ever since the time of Christ and His Apostles. For we do not deny but Rome was the Mother Church and had thirty-two virginal Martyrs for her Popes a row; and so continued till in succeeding ages it brought in a mass of errors and idle ceremonies. But you will ask, where our Church lurked before Luther's coming for some hundreds of years. But I say it makes no great matter where it was, so that I be certain it was; for as a wedge of gold, if it be mixed with a mass of other metal,” &c. (By your leave, Mr. Attorney, if I know not where the true Church is, I cannot be of it: if I be not of it, I cannot be saved: and if this be no matter to you, yet to God's children it is a great matter. And your simile of the wedge is lame of all the feet: for the Church if it be invisible to all men is gone, “quia ore fit confessio ad salutem,”[^441] and so Christ had no true servants on earth; but this is like your dream before that the true Church could degenerate into errors, and yet those coming in, no man being able to name the time, the place, nor the person, that did alter any substantial point of faith. But can Mr. Attorney think that Christ our Lord would put His candle under a bushel, which He had lighted with so great labour? And that which He saith no man will do, as being an idle and foolish thing, yet will Mr. Attorney have the Wisdom of God to do? But good Mr. Attorney, give me leave to believe Christ our Lord before you; and therefore that the city could not be hid which Christ had built upon a hill. And so your imagined gold is turned into alchymy, and passeth away in smoke; but if the material wedge of gold be hid, men say you know where to find it, if you will but search your coffers with half the pains you took to find out this invisible wedge of gold. Pardon me for this digression, I could not well let such false follies pass without a word or two; but I will not trouble the reader any more, but leave it to others: neither should I or any other have had need to admonish Mr. Attorney, if Father Garnett had been suffered to speak at large, as he was often of set purpose interrupted. But let us proceed in Mr. Attorney his speech.) “For as a wedge of gold, if it be dissolved and mixed with a mass of brass or other metal, it doth not lose its nature, but remaineth gold still, although we cannot determine in what part of the mass it is contained, but the touch-stone will find that out; so though our Church hath ever been since Christ His time in the world, yet being mixed and covered with innovations and errors we cannot tell in what part it was.” (This is the truest word in all Mr. Attorney his speech, but presently linked with the contrary, for he saith:) “And I dare say it is now more extended than theirs is, for we have all England, all Scotland, all Germany, all Denmark, a great part of France, all Poland, and some part of Italy. Now as for the statute which they call a bloody and cruel statute, I will make it apparent to be the mildest law, the sweetest law, the law most full of mercy and pity,” (It is a great pity it were not executed upon Mr. Attorney:) “that ever was enacted by any Prince so injuriously provoked as she was. And if I prove not this, then let the world say that Garnett is an honest man. And to prove this, we must remember that Pius or rather Impius Quintus, the Pope, in the eleventh year of our late Queen deceased, sent over a Bull of Excommunication against Her Majesty, discharging all her subjects from their allegiance, whereupon arose the insurrection in the North, and other rebellions, for which divers were apprehended and executed. And here we may observe the misery of Popish Catholics, who if they do obey the Bulls of the Pope are apprehended and hanged as traitors; and if they do not obey them, are by the Pope excommunicated and cursed. But to go forward: from this excommunication also proceeded that the Popish Catholics refused to come to our churches; so that the reason of refusal is not religion, but the Pope's Bull, which now being not of force, there is no doubt but that they both may and will come to our churches.” (False.) “Then after the suppression of the rebels in the North, the Popish Catholics being thought too weak to make a party, then did the Pope give them a toleration ‘rebus sic stantibus et donec commoda executio Bullæ fieri posset.’[^442] Then to make a party of Popish Catholics against the Queen, was sent in Campion and a crew of Priests with him, that laboured to pervert Her Majesty's subjects and draw them to bloody practices, which Her Majesty sought to prevent, and withal out of her singular clemency made a law, and that the fullest of pity that could be devised, to wit, That they should keep themselves there (beyond the seas), and not to come into her dominions under pain of high treason. Now tell me I pray you, was this law made to spill their blood?” (Yes, either to spill the Blood of Christ by the loss of souls, if the Priests came not in, or if they did, then theirs.) “No, it was made to save their blood, by keeping them there, which by coming hither would be spilt in bloody practices” (which were fathered upon them, that it might not seem to be cause of religion.) “Then comes in Garnett in the twenty-seventh year of the Queen. His purpose was to prepare the way against the great compounded navy, which may well be called a compounded navy, because it consisted of the ships of all nations in Christendom, that either they could beg, hire, or borrow. He came in, I say, to be the forerunner of this navy. The Pope was the inciter and the Spaniards the actors; and this great navy was overthrown, not so much by our power, as by themselves, their own ships severing and scattering them. So that we may well apply those verses to our late sovereign, which Claudian sung to his Emperor Theodosius:”

[^439: The Ninth.—Ed.]

[^440: (So the Attorney, and truly it is a grief to pass forward in this narration and not to refute such absurd speeches as a man findeth therein, but if I should do so this chapter would be much too long, and it is already sufficiently done by others. He proceedeth:). Erased in Orig. The passage is in a different hand.]

[^441: “With the mouth confession is made unto salvation” (Rom. x. 10).]

[^442: While circumstances should remain as they were, and until it should be fitting to carry out the Bull.]

O nimium dilecta Deo, cui militat æther,
Et conjurati veniunt ad classica venti.[^443]

[^443: O well beloved of God, for whom the very air fights, and the winds conspire to come to the trumpet call.]

“But was this a sufficient warning to the Romish Catholics to desist from their treasonable practices? No, for when they saw that open invasion served not their turn, they took themselves to private treacheries; insomuch that I dare boldly say” (but not truly) “there passed no four years without some one or other treason. For shortly after came Patrick Collyn, sent from Father Holt and Father Sherwood, two Jesuits, to kill the Queen. Shortly after cometh Lopez to poison the Queen, incited likewise by the instigation of the Jesuits.” (This Lopez was a Jew, the Queen's physician, living in London, a rich man, and knew no Jesuit in the world, nor was acquainted with any Catholics in England that I know of.) “After him came Yorke and Williams from Father Holt, who likewise had plotted to kill the Queen. Not long after him comes Squire, sent by Father Walpole from Spain, to poison Her Majesty.” And here Mr. Attorney desired licence to advertise the Lords that each of these treasons were accompanied with some devilish book. “As for example, the plot of Patrick Collyn was accompanied with the book of Philopater written by Cresswell the Jesuit, their ledger in Spain. Then cometh Squire with his plot, and this was accompanied with another most pernicious book written by Dolman, alias Persons, their great ledger[^444] in Rome. And now we are come to the Spanish treason, which was in the forty-fourth year of our late sovereign. And that you may know there was a Spanish treason, you shall understand that Thomas Winter, and Father Greenway, alias Tesimond, the Jesuit, went over commended by Garnett to offer their obedience and service to the King of Spain, and to promise him their assistance, when time should serve for advancement of his title to the crown of England, and withal to entreat him to send them an army, to be conveyed hither by the galleys of Spinola; which army, if it were great, should land in Kent; if it were small, it might land at Milford Haven; that they should bring with them a round sum of money, and in the meantime to bestow some annual pensions upon certain discontented persons here; and that they for their part would prepare two thousand horses, which in such attempts were like to be the greatest want. This motion being made to the King, they were brought unto him; from him they were directed to the Duke of Lerma, who received them gracefully, and finally for their answer they were referred to the Conde de Miranda, who assured them the King his master liked very well of their motion and would be ready to further them in their just request, and would henceforward account the English as his own Castilians. With this resolution Thomas Winter and Greenway returned, expecting the next summer the arrival of their navy. And here were not wanting the books I mentioned before; but what books? They had no books indeed; but that want was supplied with two Breves or Bulls, as we call them, and they were most pernicious and treacherous, which by God's providence came lately to light. The first was directed ‘Principibus et Nobilibus Catholicis totius Regni Anglicani.’[^445] The tenour of this first was an admonition that ‘postquam contigerit miseram fœminam e vitâ excedere,’”[^446] &c. Here you may mark this foul-mouthed monster that calleth our dread sovereign of happy memory, “miseram fœminam;” being one of the most renowned of Princes. (Here the reader indeed hath cause to mark a foul mouth, that durst call the Vicegerent of God Himself a foul-mouthed monster; nor will he mark that the Bull speaking only of the time after the Queen's death, was not to accompany the army, which, if any such were intended, was to come at a certain prefixed time; yea, it rather showeth the Pope would have nothing attempted in her lifetime.) “But well,” saith he, “what followeth in the Bull? Marry, when it shall happen that miserable woman shall depart this life, they shall not admit of any other to succeed in her place, ‘quâcumque propinquitate sanguinis niteretur,’[^447] except that first they promise not only to tolerate the Catholic religion, but also do bind themselves by oath to maintain it and no other: and this to deprive King James from his rightful inheritance” (nay, rather to move him to be Catholic, and so to get him also a much greater kingdom in Heaven). “To exclude him therefore cometh this roaring Bull, that warned them also to give notice of her sickness or death, as soon as may be, when it should happen, to his Legate in Flanders. And so accordingly presently upon her indisposition, Christopher Wright was despatched with letters of commendation from Garnett the Jesuit, as appeared by a confession then produced and read. And here, my Lords, let me observe another circumstance very markable; that these peculiar traitors were severally commended by Garnett the Jesuit, as for example, Thomas Winter went over: wherefore? For treason; and yet was he commended by Garnett the Jesuit. Christopher Wright went over: wherefore? For treason; and yet was he likewise commended by Garnett the Jesuit. Guy Faulks was sent over: wherefore? For treason—that is, to solicit and deal with Owen, that Spinola and Sir William Stanley might draw their forces near to the sea-side, that when the time served they might come over with the more expedition: and yet he also is commended by Garnett the Jesuit. Sir Edward Baynham was sent over to acquaint the Pope with this business, when the blow should be given” (By this known untruth the rest may be judged of the better:) “which Edward Baynham was a fit messenger between the Pope and the devil; and yet he had also letters of commendation from Garnett the Jesuit. So that hereby it is apparent that Garnett was not only privy, but consenting to their several practices. Now when King James was settled in this kingdom, and received of all, then did Garnett burn the Bull. But out of that Bull did Catesby infer that it was lawful for him to entertain any practice against our sovereign that now is; for, said he, it is as lawful for us to expel him and cast him out now, seeing by experience he doth persecute religion, as by the Breve it was lawful to resist him and reject, when we did but fear he would not favour Catholics.” (True it is Mr. Catesby did argue thus; but was answered by Father Garnett, that the case was not like before and after admission, and that we must not by ourselves attempt anything, the Pope now commanding to be quiet.) “The other Bull was to the Archpriest and his associates, commending their patience and longanimity, and willing them to counsel all sorts of lay people to be forward in execution of the Pope's command. Well then, out of these circumstances, I infer that Garnett was not only privy, but an author and actor in this treason.”

[^444: Prefect. Erased in Orig.]

[^445: To the Catholic Princes and Nobles of the whole Kingdom of England.]

[^446: When it shall happen that that miserable woman shall depart this life.]

[^447: Whatsoever be the nearness of blood on which his claim rests.]

“But now let us consider other circumstances that are ‘omni acceptione majores.’[^448] Your Lordships must understand that Garnett would not be known to any of the actors in these bloody practices, but only to Catesby, being a man ‘vafro et versuto ingenio et profundâ perfidiâ,’[^449] so that all we have against him must be chiefly drawn from himself.” (Indeed Mr. Catesby was dead, and never affirmed any such thing, and the rest of the conspirators in their examinations and public speeches affirmed the contrary; so that Mr. Attorney did want proof very much, when he brought in a dead man to be witness, like to them that brought the sleeping soldiers at Christ His sepulchre to be witnesses that his body was stolen whilst they were asleep.) “Well then, this Garnett confesseth that Catesby had in general imparted to him that something would be done by the Catholics, but could not reveal in particular what it was without the consent of two others of his consorts, which Garnett saith he dissuaded him from; but how know we that he did so? Only by his own words, who useth to deal sincerely in nothing that concerneth himself. But I will prove that he did not dissuade them, but did encourage them, even to the Powder Treason itself.” (Here, by the way, I would gladly ask Mr. Attorney how he doth save the accusation recited in the indictment from a false slander, where it is said that Garnett and Greenway did in the beginning meet with Catesby at Queenhithe, and there conclude upon destroying the King and Queen and the Parliament House by powder? How could this be true, seeing that here now long after, and after the gentlemen had concluded as it seems of the matter, and bound one another to secrecy, so that as you see Mr. Catesby could not reveal it to Father Garnett without leave of two others, Father Garnett was all this while ignorant of it: yea, and now also had but a general knowledge of something to be done, from which also he dissuaded them? We may see in this contradiction Father Garnett his innocency; and that Mr. Attorney should be mindful of what he hath said, if he will not say the truth. But let us see how he seeketh to prove by likelihoods, that here Father Garnett, getting some knowledge of the thing in general, did persuade it in particular.) “For Father Garnett,” said he, “confesseth moreover that Mr. Catesby did in general terms propound a case unto him, whether it were not lawful to destroy many enemies assembled together to our ruin, although some innocents must needs be inwrapped in the slaughter. To this Garnett answered that in just war when a town or castle is besieged that could not be taken without battering the walls, and that not to be performed without perishing of some innocents, in that case, if the advantage which redounded to the general good by the death of those enemies were greater than the loss should be by the destruction of those innocents, that then it was lawful. I beseech your Lordships mark here, that Garnett approveth this fact in particular; for this resolution was Catesby's whole ground; and this I prove by Rookwood his confession (which he brought forth), and therein it appeared that when Catesby made the first overture of this matter unto him, he conceived great horror of the fact in respect of the innocents that were to be there, whereunto Catesby answered, that he had advice of the most learned, that it was lawful, not by proposing the case in particular, but in a like.” (Here Mr. Attorney, by his plain proof which he promised, hath proved himself to be guilty of a malicious and false inference, and Father Garnett to be clear from all furtherance to the Plot. For, first, this case was put to Father Garnett before the time this general notice of something in hand was given him by Mr. Catesby: though here Mr. Attorney did maliciously put it after, to make it seem that Father Garnett might gather some light what should be meant by them, hearing now this particular case out of the former general knowledge, which the Attorney saith he had before received. But the general knowledge came after, which I prove by these alleged words of Mr. Attorney. For here he saith, he had resolution in this case before he acquainted Rookwood; and that general knowledge was given after the matter was commenced: for, so he said, there was something in hand, but he could not tell him without leave of two; at which time Father Garnett refused to know the matter, but dissuaded it in general. Now that he proveth also Father Garnett clear from persuasion or consent, I prove by his own words, where he saith that Mr. Catesby persuaded Mr. Rookwood to yield, upon the resolution he had received of the like case, not of the same case; whereby it appears, they first concluded of it amongst themselves, and the rest consented to it, without Father Garnett his knowledge or privity, much less his counsel. Now whereas Mr. Attorney will needs conclude, that because Mr. Catesby did infer the lawfulness of the particular out of the resolution in general, therefore Father Garnett should be guilty of the powder; by the same reason he may prove many Doctors in the Schools, and the most learned writers that are or have been, to be guilty of the same treason; for they deliver the same doctrine in the same case, as it was put to Father Garnett. And as they, being wholly ignorant of the matter, cannot be touched with it, for delivering their true opinion, so Father Garnett, when that case was put, thought of nothing less than that they had any such intent. And afterward when he perceived something in general, that he also laboured to hinder by persuasion: and so no way to be blamed, but much to be commended, if he had his right).

[^448: Unexceptionable.]

[^449: Of a cunning and subtle wit and profound perfidy.]

“Then further,” says Mr. Attorney, “Garnett, under pretence of a journey to St. Winifred's Well, and I know not what marriage, retired himself into Warwickshire, which was the rendezvous for all the conspirators, pretending he had no place to abide in until the Parliament.” (It is well known to many Catholics that all the safe lodgings which Father Garnett had about London were lately before discovered, and that was a chief cause of his journey; and it was unfit to take a new house about London, before they might see what laws would be made at the Parliament, which were expected would be such as there would be no abiding there.) “He also made a prayer for the great business about the Parliament time, which was”

Gentem[^450] auferte perfidam
Credentium de finibus,
Ut Christo laudes debitas
“Persolvamus alacriter.”[^451]

[^450: Take away the faithless people from the boundaries of the Faithful, that we may joyfully give due praises unto Christ.]

[^451: This was the hymn of that time, being the Feast of All Saints, and so applied by Father Garnett to the hindrance of heretics in making heretical laws intended against Catholics. Erased in Orig.]

Now for the subsequent circumstances Mr. Attorney produced, an interlocution between Father Garnett and Father Ouldcorne in the Tower; which thing is before declared at large and therefore needs not here be set down, the chapter growing too long by other points not before so much declared. Only this here is to be noted, that Mr. Attorney reported the matter otherwise than it was; for he said, that by reason the Tower was full of prisoners, the Lieutenant was constrained for want of room to lodge them in two chambers joining one upon another, which they perceiving did often discourse together, and being overheard by the Lieutenant's men passing to other prisoners, some of them were placed near adjoining to overhear them.[^452] And so out of that interlocution, and Father Garnett his confession taken by the Lords after the same, he proved that Father Garnett was told in confession of the Powder Treason; which point alone he was able to prove against Father Garnett, and the which Father Garnett acknowledged, but proved it to be both lawful and necessary for him to proceed as he did therein. Then Mr. Attorney began to exaggerate the greatness of the treason, because it was intended against so worthy a Prince, and so noble a progeny, in whose praises he spent a long time; but not needful to be set down in this place. Then he praised and sought to please the City of London, affirming that the King, in desire to give contentment unto the city, had caused that solemn trial to be made in that place, which belonged to the public justice of the city.

[^452: Thus he. But he did not know that my Lord of Salisbury would afterwards tell the case truly that it was done of policy. So we see that Mr. Attorney can add and diminish like a cunning orator. Erased in Orig.]

Then he returned to Father Garnett, and said that he and the Jesuits had plotted these foresaid treasons against all these so worthy persons; and that the Jesuits were Doctors of four D's; first of Dissimulation, wherein he made an invective against the doctrine of equivocation, showing a written book of that matter which had been taken in some search, the title whereof was written with Father Garnett his own hand, “Against lying and untruths;” and, said Mr. Attorney,[^453] “If this doctrine might be admitted, that men may swear and forswear what they list, there would be no martyrs: the holy Ridley, Cranmer, and Latimer would not have been martyred.” (These were three notorious heretics burnt in Queen Mary's time.) “The thirty-two Popes, that were virginal martyrs, would not have suffered on a row. This doctrine was begun by Arius, who having a schedule of the Catholic doctrine in his left hand, and another of his own opinion in his bosom, laid his right hand upon his breast and sware he believed and would maintain that doctrine he had in his hand during his life.” (Many such things he said against “equivocatio,” either mistaking or misreporting wholly the state of the question.) The second D, he said, was Deposing of Princes, for which he produced a place out of Philopater, affirming that heretics cannot bear rule over Catholics; and another out of Dolman's book of titles to the like effect, also two places of Simanha, whom he termed the Spanish Jesuit. The first, that all heretics were excommunicate de jure at Easter, and were excommunicate de facto. The second was that a Prince once excommunicate “amittit jus regnandi;”[^454] and not only for himself, but for his heirs. The third D, is the Disposing of kingdoms, for proof whereof, he alleged that they would have disposed of the kingdom of England to the Infanta of Spain, without any memory of King James. The fourth and last D, was the Deterring of Princes with fear of their excommunications, and I know not what. And then, with some invectives against Jesuits, he dehorted all men from conversing with them, with this saying, “Qui cum Jesu itis, non itis cum Jesuitis.” “Neither,” said he, “are their Priests less perilous than they of whom I hope I may presage the destruction near at hand; for seeing I am informed they are in number about four hundred, they may fitly be resembled to the four hundred false prophets that Micheas had in his company;[^455] for as they were possessed of lying spirits and then perishing, so may we hope that these Priests and Jesuits publicly teaching this doctrine of lying and equivocating are near their downfall.” And then making a low reverence he concluded his speech.

[^453: (Either mistaking or misreporting the state of the question). Erased in Orig.]

[^454: Loses the right of reigning.]

[^455: Dreamed of. Erased in Orig.]

[^456] Mr. Attorney having ended,[^457] Father Garnett, having first made his reverence with a very modest countenance began his speech, first craving pardon for the weakness of his memory, if he should fail to give them satisfaction in any particular that had been objected against him. “But I trust,” said he, “with the help of Mr. Attorney, I shall fail in nothing of consequence. And considering the whole discourse of Mr. Attorney, I find the things by him treated of, may be reduced to four principal heads: the first, concerning our doctrine in general; the second, concerning recusants in general; third, concerning Jesuits in general; the last, concerning myself in particular.”

[^456: Father Garnett his speech.]

[^457: His long discourse. Erased in Orig.]

[^458] “And for the first, Mr. Attorney inveigheth greatly against that point of doctrine wherein we teach that equivocations in some cases may be lawfully used, as a doctrine which he supposeth to hinder Martyrs from their crowns and to break the bonds of human society; neither of which can ensue out of that doctrine, as we do teach it. For we do not teach (as Mr. Attorney affirmeth) that it is lawful to equivocate in matters of faith; but we teach the contrary most expressly, rejecting that doctrine as an heresy, condemned long since in the Priscilianists. Yea, some Catholics have suffered death for answering directly to questions which they might have avoided, but that they feared they should then equivocate in matters of faith, or seem to deny their religion. And, my Lords, because I have discoursed to your Lordships of this point heretofore, and to other learned men sent to me in the Tower, I will be the shorter at this present: and as I say, it is never lawful to equivocate in matters of faith, so also in matters of human conversation, it may not be used promiscually, or at our pleasure; as in matters of contract, in matters of testimony, or before a competent judge, or to the prejudice of any third person: in which cases we judge it altogether unlawful. But only we think it lawful when it is no way prejudicial to others and to be used for our own or our brother's good, or when we are pressed to questions that are hurtful to be answered unto, or urged upon examination to answer to one who is no competent judge, or who would force us to open matters not liable to his court: as if they should examine me of the secrets of my heart, or the secrets I have heard in confession; because these secrets are not liable to any external court, I may in these cases, for avoiding of inconvenience, and redeeming my own vexation, lawfully use some reservation. Neither doth this liberty prejudice any whit human conversation; but it is conformable to reason, agreeable to the doctrine of the holy Fathers, and to the consent of all learned men, without contradiction of any one that ever I heard or read of, who teach generally with St. Thomas of Aquin, affirming the same which I have said, in several places, and specially in that place where he teacheth that if a Confessor should by any man whosoever be examined concerning points which he knoweth only by confession, he may lawfully, yea, he is bound to disavow them. And this doctrine is also found in the Scripture itself; for confirmation whereof, I will cite only two places. The first is that place where our Saviour being demanded concerning the Day of Judgment by His disciples made answer, ‘De die illâ nemo novit, neque Angeli Dei, neque filius hominis, nisi solus Pater.’[^459] But certain it is that Christ our Saviour did know of the Day of Judgment, not only as He was God, but as He was Man also, as all holy Doctors and Divines do constantly affirm. Wherefore it cannot be denied but therein He used some mental reservation. For lying can no ways be tolerable and much less practised by Him that is the rule and measure of all truth, as St. Augustine excellently proveth in that place where he distinguisheth eight kind of lies, all of them being sins; and the least of those when it is ‘mendacium officiosum,’ to the good of some, without the hurt of any. So that seeing this saying of our Saviour cannot be verified otherwise but, as St. Augustine expoundeth it, with this secret reservation that He knew it not to reveal it, it cannot be denied but these reservations in some cases are lawful. The second example is, where He said to His Disciples, ‘Vos ascendite ad diem festum hunc: ego autem non ascendo ad diem festum istum.’[^460] And yet, notwithstanding, the Evangelist affirmeth that after they were gone to the feast, ‘tunc et ipse ascendit ad diem festum non manifeste, sed quasi in occulto,’[^461] which argueth that in this general denial to go, He meant only that He would not go in public, which in His mind He reserved.”

[^458: 1. Concerning Catholic doctrine in general.]

[^459: ‘Of that day or hour no man knoweth, neither the Angels in heaven, nor the Son, but the Father’ (St. Mark xiii. 32; Cf. St. Matt. xxiv. 36).]

[^460: ‘Go you up to this festival-day: but I go not up to this festival-day’ (St. John vii. 8).]

[^461: ‘Then He also went up to the feast, not publicly, but as it were in private’ (St. John vii. 10).]

Here my Lord of Salisbury interrupted the prisoner and said, that because the truth was oftentimes more plainly discovered by interposition of questions and answers, than by a continual speech delivered together, he would ask of Mr. Garnett one question concerning that doctrine he delivered. “For you teach it,” said he, “to be unlawful to equivocate before a competent judge, and I trust you take us to be such. At the least I do. Now did not you deny in the Tower unto me with earnest asseveration, that you had not any conference with Hall, until the witness was produced against you, and then you confessed it? Is not this to equivocate before a competent judge, and in a matter of small consequence?” To this the prisoner answered that he did so because, until the witness came, he did think the matter wholly secret, and therefore not liable to the examination of any judge, though otherwise competent; besides he deemed it prejudicial to a third person, whom then he accounted an honest man. Then he went forward in his speech.

“The second point of our doctrine,” said he, “that Mr. Attorney greatly inveigheth against, is the doctrine of deposing of Princes and excommunicating of Kings. Whereof although I could discourse at large, yet for that I am unwilling in this honourable assembly to speak anything which may be offensive to His Majesty or to them, I will only say a word or two in just excuse of myself and my brethren, the Catholics of England. And, first, I beseech your Lordships to consider that our doctrine in this point is the very same which is taught and holden by all Catholic Divines and other subjects in all Catholic Universities and countries of the Christian world, which subjects are not by their Princes censured for this doctrine or condemned as traitors, nor their doctrine judged to be seditious or treasonable. And therefore I cannot see why we, concurring with them and with all our predecessors in this kingdom, without innovation or changing any one principle or tittle in that matter, should be so severely branded with such notes of infamy. Secondly, for clearing our case the more, I will observe a great difference to be made between our Sovereign that now is, and other Princes that have once embraced and professed the Catholic faith and do afterwards revolt and decline into heresies, parting themselves from that body unto which they were before united, disjoining and dividing themselves from that Head to whom before they had submitted themselves and by whom they were governed; for they incur the censures which those authors, cited by Mr. Attorney, do speak of, and are punishable by that power which in precedent times they admitted. But His Majesty's case is different from theirs; for he maintaineth no other doctrine than that which from his cradle he hath been nourished and brought up in. And therefore those general sentences are not by any private man to be applied to his case in particular.” Here the Earl of Salisbury again interrupted him and demanded if the Pope could excommunicate King James, his Sovereign. The prisoner answered, “My Lord, I cannot deny the authority of His Holiness.” Then my Lord of Salisbury demanded, whether if he should be excommunicated, it were lawful for his subjects to rebel against him. “My Lord,” said he, “I have already answered that point. I beseech your Lordship to press me no further. You have my opinion in the Canon of Nos Sanctorum which I before alleged.” Then Mr. Attorney produced the Canon, which was publicly read with derision of divers standers-by, who thought it ridiculous that the Pope should have such authority over Princes.

[^462] After this the Father proceeded and the second thing he would answer unto, should be recusants in general, “who,” saith he, “are accused by Mr. Attorney that they only grounded their recusancy upon the excommunication of the Queen by Pius Vtus, which, if it were true, then Mr. Attorney did infer that, seeing that our Sovereign that now is stands not excommunicate, it were lawful to repair to the churches and service of England. But if this were lawful, doubtless Catholics would have done it before this, thereby to avoid the penalty of those statutes which in that case are enacted. Neither is it true, that Mr. Attorney so constantly avoucheth, that till the eleventh year of Queen Elizabeth all Catholics did resort to their churches. For I knew many Catholics at that time living, that I am certain never went to Protestants' churches in their lives. And Sir Thomas Fitzherbert of my knowledge did not only refuse it before that time himself, but also had written a treatise to prove that it could not be tolerated in any Catholic; and it is apparent to the world that before that time many Catholic Bishops and Priests were imprisoned for their refusal. Whereby it is evident that their recusancy is not founded upon any excommunication; but only upon mere matter of conscience, judging it unlawful to communicate in their service[^463] with such as have separated themselves from the Church. Which doctrine is as ancient as the condemnation of the Arian heresy; for even then the Catholics refused in divinis to communicate with the Arians, albeit they had Priests, Masses, Altars and their whole service, the same both in substance and ceremony. Which doctrine hath also been taught by the most learned of the Protestants, Calvin, Luther, Beza and others, who all teach it to be unlawful to be present at our service, not only at Mass, which they count idolatry, but at Evensong also. Yet I grant this point was not so clearly understood by Catholics here until the Council of Trent, where twelve most grave and learned men were appointed to consult and conclude of this matter; who without controversy determined, that it was in no case lawful to communicate with the heretics in their service, no, not to avoid any torment whatsoever. And their decision was by the whole Council approved; although the same was also concluded of by the Council of Nice above 1,300 years ago.” Here again he was interrupted by my Lord of Salisbury, saying, “You go about to seduce the people.” The rest of his speech only tended to the City of London, and seemed to tell them they should see such an anatomy of the Popish doctrine, that he hoped after that it would not have so many followers, with other words to like effect; which speech being ended, the prisoner resumed his discourse and said:

[^462: 2. Concerning recusants in general.]

[^463: In divinis. Erased in Orig.]

[^464] “The third thing I determined to speak of was the Jesuits in general; of whom some have been by Mr. Attorney accused of undertaking several treasonable attempts, as the matters of Patrick Collyn, Yorke, Williams, and Squire, of all which I can say no more but this, that I have had the hands and protestations of those Fathers that are accused, as Father Holt and Father Walpole, who on their salvations affirm they never treated with the parties concerning any such matter; and that it was very unlikely, seeing the enterprisers of them were no Catholics, or but feigned Catholics, as Yorke and Squire were, who died Protestants, and were of so little acquaintance with those Fathers that it was no way probable they would employ them in matters of such weight. And howsoever they might in time of torture, or for fear, be brought to accuse themselves, yet at their death some of them discovered the practices and protested they died innocent of the facts for which they suffered, as Williams and Squire did. And for Father Sherwood, accused also by Mr. Attorney, there neither is nor was any such Father of the Society. Indeed there was one of that name that entered the Society; but he died before he came to be Priest. But I am sure there was none such of the Society, as Mr. Attorney accuseth.”

[^464: 3. The Jesuits in general.]

[^465] “Now for myself in particular. First I protest I am clear from approving, and much more from furthering, either this or any other treasonable attempts, and have ever thought and taught them to be unlawful; and have by all my best endeavours laboured to divert and suppress them. True it is,[^466] that I did understand in general by Mr. Catesby,[^467] that he would have attempted something for the good of Catholics; which I dissuaded him from so effectually, that I well hoped he would have desisted from all such pretences. And this I revealed not, because as a Religious Priest I thought to suppress it between him and me; which course our Saviour prescribeth, warning us, that if our brother offend in anything, we should admonish him between him and us: and if this prevail, ‘Lucratus es fratrem tuum,’[^468] saith our Saviour; and if that reclaim him not, then we may proceed further. Now, my Lords, because I was persuaded that upon this admonition he would give over his former designs, I held myself in conscience discharged from making any further discovery of that practice. Howbeit that in your common law I think that insufficient, in regard it deemeth it not convenient to leave the safety of the commonwealth depending on the discretion or peculiar provision of any private person. But yet, my Lords, that I did dislike such proceedings, and as much as I could did endeavour to reclaim them, your Lordships may gather by the express commandment which I procured by means of our Superior, whereby was expressly forbidden all attempts against the King in general, and also by the endeavours I used as seriously as I could to procure the like prohibition, and that under pain of some heavier censure: which I would never have endeavoured, if I had any way approved it. And I knew very well His Holiness much disliked all such courses; and, as I was informed, commended my care and vigilancy in seeking to repress the former stirs, wherein Watson and Clarke did join with others the first year of the King's coming into England. And lastly, in that I knew them to be contrary to our Religious obedience (of which virtue in the Society we make special account), by which we were expressly forbidden to meddle in any such causes.”

[^465: 4. Father Garnett in particular.]

[^466: Albeit I must acknowledge. Erased in Orig.]

[^467: Long since. Erased in Orig.]

[^468: ‘Thou shalt gain thy brother’ (St. Matt. xviii. 15).]

Here Mr. Attorney interrupted him and said, that he did not forbid them, for he could prove no such matter, but only by his words, who used to speak the best in favour of himself, “and,” said he, “for that prohibition which you procured, I do not think you did it for love to us, but for your own ends, lest that by some matter of small importance your main plot should be prevented and hindered.” To this he answered, “That all were prohibited in general, and therefore it could not be in favour of any one in particular.” (Besides that prohibition was procured long before Father Garnett knew of this particular designment of those gentlemen, which as it appears by all proofs, was long after the powder was all placed, and but a little time before it should have been put in execution.) “And, Mr. Attorney,” said Father Garnett, “howsoever you labour to misconstrue my intentions, my meaning was so as I have said. And to proceed further, I am blamed also for giving letters of commendation to Mr. Thomas Winter and Faulks and others that went over (as now it appears) for accomplishing of treasons. And to this I answer, that I gave them indeed letters of commendation; but I protest I knew not that they went over about matters of treason, for that I never inquired of their businesses. But if I knew them to be Catholic men and of good conversation, then,[^469] without further inquiry, I gave them letters to testify so much to my friends beyond seas, desiring their favours and furtherance for them in any ordinary matter of courtesy or charity. And the like letters I have given to divers other Catholics that were no ways to be touched with any treacherous attempts: and these were altogether unknown to me.”

[^469: Upon means made unto me. Erased in Orig.]

Here my Lord of Salisbury did interrupt him. “Mr. Garnett,” said he, “did you give them the letters without knowing the end why they were sent over?” “Yea, my Lord,” said he. “Why,” said my Lord of Salisbury, “did not you yourself tell me that you did nominate Sir Edmond Baynham as a fit man to go over to the Pope?” “My Lord,” said Father Garnett, “I told your Honour thus much: that it was thought convenient that some one should inform His Holiness of the estate of our country, and that it was a great charge to send over one of purpose for that business; knowing therefore that Sir Edmond Baynham was going over, and had been so resolved for above two years, I thought it better, that now he might discharge that care and save that charge, than that one should be sent over to the Pope of set purpose to inform of the state of England.” “Nay,” said my Lord of Salisbury, “you told me that Sir Edmond Baynham went over to acquaint the Pope with this Plot of Treason, and that therefore you would not have him said to be sent by you, because the Pope would be offended that you employed a layman in that business.” “My Lord,” said Father Garnett, “at the going over of Sir Edmond Baynham I did not know of that treason myself, and therefore could not think that Sir Edmond went to acquaint him with it.” (Note the modesty of this Father that would not contradict the Earl, although the matter touched him very near; but rather proved, by a necessary consequence, that he could not say so unto him, than he would seem to aver the other had misreported his words.) “Nay I am persuaded,” said the Father, “that Mr. Catesby would not have revealed the matter in particular to the Pope himself. Howbeit, afterwards I imagined with myself that peradventure Mr. Catesby by his means might intend to acquaint His Holiness with some pretence in general for the Catholic cause, which they would undertake if His Holiness should approve it And this I supposed only because Mr. Catesby promised me that he would not go forward with any attempt till the Pope had been acquainted and made privy to it And I said to your Lordship, that therefore I would not that Sir Edmond should be sent from us; for that it would displease the Pope we should send or employ any person whomsoever in the affairs of England; but refer them to others, whom it more concerned.”[^470]

[^470: This part may be omitted. In marg. against this sentence.]

Then Mr. Attorney replied that Mr. Faulks had confessed that Sir Edmond Baynham was to give notice unto the Pope of this their attempt: and to this effect was produced a confession of Faulks which said that Sir Edmond Baynham was sent to Rome to acquaint the Pope with the matter when the blow should be given, and to crave his assistance and furtherance in all. To this he answered: “What they determined, I know not. And it may be, they thought at that time to have conveyed him some letter to give him notice thereof. But it is more than I know, and very unlikely that the first news should come by me, for the common fame and rumour thereof would have prevented my letters by a great while.” Then said Mr. Attorney: “You see, my Lords, what great care this man had for the preventing of this so great a danger; and yet he saith he did not approve nor consent to it. But I will prove that he did both; for, as I have said before, he gave Catesby the resolution that it was lawful to be done not in that case, but in another like to it; which notwithstanding was the sole ground Catesby stood upon, as appeareth by Rookwood's confession, before alleged and now again produced and read. Besides he made a prayer for the good success of the Powder Treason, about the time it should have been put in practice, he having known thereof in particular before by Greenway his confession.”

[^471] To this the prisoner answered: “That the case was proposed to him in general, and so he resolved it, being a case common in all just wars, where if a town could not be taken, or a wall beaten down without the death of some innocents, all casuists do hold that fact to be lawful. But that Mr. Catesby misapplied this general question, was neither fault nor approbation of mine; which when I heard[^472] of, I conceived a great horror at the thing itself, and thought it would be a scandal and disgrace to Catholics; and therefore, besides the former means which I had used to suppress it, I did also in my prayers desire some milder course might be taken, if it were God's will.” “Nay,” said my Lord of Salisbury, “you prayed not with that condition; for you said to me in the gallery, that although we did not approve of your Masses, yet you did think assuredly that they had done us good; for you prayed heartily that it might not come to pass, except it were for the good of the Church.” Father Garnett answered “that he said not so; but that he desired God to make a milder course, if it were His holy will. As for the prayer upon All-Hallow Day, wherein you note those words so precisely, ‘Gentem auferte perfidam,’ you must understand it was the hymn of the same Feast, which in my exhortation I admonished the hearers to iterate unto Almighty God for the Catholic cause, the Parliament being then at hand, and great fears in us of more severity ensuing towards us; and therefore I meant not the Powder Treason, but to desire God that He would put in the mind of His Majesty and the Lords there assembled in the Parliament not to permit those rigorous laws to pass against us, which we feared would at that time be concluded of, and to restrain the too much forwardness of some others in the company that were more violent against us.” “Indeed,” said Mr. Attorney, “you said you would so colour it.” “No, in truth,” said the Father, “that was my true intention.”

[^471: The case concerning innocents, answered by Father Garnett.]

[^472: The prayer objected to Father Garnett answered by him.]

Then witnesses were called into the Court which had heard the interlocution; and Mr. Attorney spake in commendation of one of them, saying he was a great linguist, a Justice of Peace, and a learned man, and one that would do wrong to no man. Father Garnett said he thought so too, but he might be mistaken, for that which he said was no more but that he could answer that point very well, for he would say (as in truth it was) that he meant, that the laws intended might not pass against us. “And how say you, Mr. Fawcet, bethink yourself, were you not mistaken?” (Here one may see the good Father had some hope left, that some sparks of grace and true dealing had been left in the man according to his former promises of friendly meaning; but he found the contrary, and that they were agreed together what they would aver, “convenientes in unum adversus christum Domini,”[^473] for he answered,) “No,” said he, “we both understood it so and writ it down so, and have had so great care to do you no wrong, that we omitted divers things wherein we agreed not, and nothing was set down, but with both our consents.” “No,” saith my Lord of Salisbury, “if we would touch you with the testimony of one witness, we could charge you with further matters than these, but we will not do so, that the world may see what mildness and mercy we use in execution of justice, and to this end my Sovereign determined that your trial should be in this honourable assembly. For who is Garnett that he should be called hither; or we should trouble ourselves in this Court with him? which I protest were sufficient for the greatest Cardinal in Rome, if in this case he should be tried. No, Mr. Garnett, it is not for your cause that you are called hither, but to testify to the world the foulness of your fact, the errors of your religion, and His Majesty's clemency. For these causes His Majesty ordained your trial should be in this Court before this honourable assembly, wherein we may glory as much as if the greatest Cardinal in Rome were pleading at the bar. And, therefore, the witness is a man of reputation and who would do you no wrong.”

[^473: Agreeing together against the anointed of the Lord (Vid. Psalm ii. 2).]

Mr. Garnett said he thought so too, but he might be mistaken. “No,” said my Lord of Salisbury, “he was near you enough to understand your words: for Hall and you, of policy, were lodged so near one to the other and in such a place where your interlocutions might be easily heard.” (Here it appears Mr. Attorney his speech was idle when he said it was for want of rooms and by chance that they were overheard; but he did not foresee that the Earl meant to make the truth in this point of policy serve his turn for a further policy, as here it appeareth. Unto which end also the good usage was directed to satisfy the Ambassadors who were then present, and others that were like to inquire of his usage in particular.) “For Christian policy is not to be condemned in any well-governed commonwealth, and if we should not use such courses, I know not how we should deal with such people as you. You have in your pamphlets so described us for cruelties and persecutions. But let him testify that is here at the bar, whether he hath not been used with extraordinary favour? How say you, Mr. Garnett, is it not so?” “My Lord,” said the Father, “I must acknowledge my entreaty to have been very honourable, for which I esteem myself much bound to His Majesty.”

Then my Lord of Salisbury urged that he was bound to have discovered the Powder Treason which he knew by Greenway his confession, “being no sacramental confession by your own laws,” said he, “for it had no contrition and was de futuris, and so could not be a Sacrament in your own religion.” (This point is answered where the thing itself is particularly declared at the time and place when it happened. Here the Father did only answer to the Earl's chief intention and said:) “Though he nothing doubted but Mr. Greenway had contrition and all things needful to make it a sacramental confession, yet howsoever the party were penitent or not, the Confessor may not reveal it without mortal sin, if he utter himself in confession, and not in derision of the Sacrament.” Then said the Earl of Northampton, “Mr. Garnett, Greenway in his reservative clause was more careful of you than of the King or commonwealth, in giving liberty to you to reveal it in time of your own danger, which should have been rather to have prevented the danger to the King and commonwealth.” Father Garnett answered that Mr. Greenway having it himself also from them by confession, was restrained and limited how far he should give leave to open it; and that the Confessor hath no extensive liberty at all further than the penitent gives unto him.

Then said the Earl of Nottingham, “Mr. Garnett, if a man should tell you in confession that he would stab the King with a dagger to-morrow, are you not bound to reveal it?” “My Lord,” said he, “unless I could know it by some other means, I might not.” Hereupon the people fell into a great laughter, not understanding that the secrecy of confession concerneth a greater good in the life of many souls, than the corporal life can be of any particular man. When the laughter ceased, the Father proceeded and said, “In that case, my Lord, my duty were to dissuade the party from it, to refuse to give absolution, and by all[^474] means to labour to divert it, which might not open the confession.”

[^474: Indirect. Erased in Orig.]

Then said the Earl of Northampton, “Mr. Garnett, you were consenting to the Powder Treason, for you did not forbid it: and it is a case by every good Priest approved, that ‘Qui non prohibet cum potest, jubet.’”[^475] “My Lord,” said the Father, “I did prohibit it, as much as in me lay.” My Lord of Northampton replied, “Why did you not then make it known to those that could and would have hindered it?” Father Garnett answered, as before, that he could not do it, because he knew it only in confession. Then the Attorney pressed him in this manner. “Although you could not discover Mr. Greenway, by whose confession you knew it, yet might you have well discovered what you understood concerning Catesby and his associates, whose confessions you heard not.” The Father answered, “What sin soever is heard in confession, although it concern not the penitent but some other, cannot lawfully be revealed.”

[^475: Not to prohibit when possible, is to order.]

Mr. Attorney then urged him with his being in Warwickshire at that time when these troubles should have happened, amplifying it again, as in his former speech he had done. To which Father Garnett answered that by reason of a journey which he had made that summer to St. Winifred's Well, he passed through that country, and was by the entreaty of some of his friends and some occasion also of business detained there for a time, not suspecting any such troubles would have happened in that place: which, if by any forecast he could have foreseen, they might well imagine he would in discretion have been a good way off from that place and country.

“But,” said my Lord of Salisbury, “what did you, Mr. Garnett, the 6th day of November, when Bates came to you with a letter from Catesby, after the Plot was discovered and they in open rebellion?” “My Lord,” said Father Garnett, “I said I would not meddle with him that had wrought himself into such treasonable attempts, and thereby endangered himself and his friends.” “Yea, but,” replied the Earl of Salisbury, “did not you send Greenway to Catesby, who went to raise the countries abroad?” “My Lord,” said Father Garnett, “he went without my knowledge; neither could I gather by any speech of his that he had any such intention, as Bates could testify, if he were alive.” And indeed Bates had said as much as that in his letter, before set down verbatim in the 11th chapter, which was more than Father Garnett could know of.

Then, for conclusion, Mr. Attorney desired license to read a letter written by Mr. Tresham, lying upon his death-bed in the Tower, wherein upon his salvation he cleared Father Garnett of any notice of the Spanish treason, protesting that he had wronged him in it, and that he had not seen Father Garnett of fourteen years before. “Now,” said Mr. Attorney, “to prove this untrue, here is a confession of Mrs. Ann Vaux, who (though otherwise a very obstinate woman) yet in this she confesseth plainly, that within these three years Tresham had been several times at her house with Father Garnett, and twice this last year, at which times Father Garnett had given him very good counsel. So that you see,” saith Mr. Attorney, “they will swear and forswear anything.” The like said my Earl of Salisbury upon the same occasion.

But they did not (or would not) mark, that Mrs. Ann Vaux her confession doth make nothing at all against Mr. Tresham his protestation; for he said not he had not seen Father Garnett within the last three years; but that he had not seen him of fourteen years before the Spanish treason, which was the year before the Queen's death; as his words are plain, and the cause also of his writing doth make it plain, for his intention was only to clear the Father of the Spanish treason, which he had wrongfully accused him of, and therefore it was a very material proof that he had not seen him of fourteen years before that business;[^476] but they would needs draw his meaning to be, that he had not seen him of fourteen years before the writing of the letter. But this was their misconstruing, not his equivocating; yea, then his words had been very unproper, for he should rather then have said, “I have not seen him of fourteen year, or this fourteen years;” but whereas he said, “I did not see him of fourteen years before,” he must needs mean of fourteen years before the time he spake of, which was the Spanish treason. Therefore they were to blame, that did so much insult upon Mr. Tresham after his death, as though he had been found to have protested an untruth. But they did it to take occasion to infer thereby that other protestations also were like to be untrue, which divers of the conspirators had made before their death to clear the Fathers. But against theirs, no pretence of exception could be alleged; but only that theirs might be false, because this was false: which had been an evil consequence, although this had not been true. But this of Mr. Tresham's was true: and the others undoubted, and no ways to be disproved. And it is worthy to be noted how Almighty God did permit them now, at the end of this long day's trial of Father Garnett, to bring forth this letter (whereby they thought so clearly to disprove such testimonies as might be afterwards brought for Father Garnett), which letter did indeed so clearly prove him innocent in that former dealing with Spain, whereof there were more likely presumptions against him than about this Powder Treason.

[^476: This may be left out. In marg.]

The cause and manner of writing this letter was this. Mr. Thomas Winter had confessed that six gentlemen were acquainted with that Plot, but could say nothing of Father Garnett, that he did so much as know of it. Mr. Tresham acknowledged in his first examinations that himself was acquainted with it, vdlt., that money and men should have come from thence; and being found more fearful and easy to be wrought upon than the rest, he was urged to confess Garnett to be privy thereunto; to which he answered, “Perhaps he was.” On which words reflecting afterwards when he lay in extremity of sickness in the Tower, and prepared himself to die, he thought the Council would take advantage against Father Garnett by that which he had said: therefore before his death he caused his man to write in his name unto the Earl of Salisbury, protesting upon his salvation, that Mr. Garnett was not acquainted therewith, &c, as before was set down out of the letter read. This letter he was not then able to sign himself, he was so weak at that time, and therefore caused his wife to do it, and commanded her, as she would answer it before God, to deliver it to my Lord of Salisbury, for the discharge of his conscience; but afterwards growing somewhat better, he did call for the writing again, and signed it with his own hand. And his wife after his death, because she could not be admitted to come to my Lord of Salisbury, inclosed it in a letter of her own, and sent it to his Lordship. And the man that wrote this letter, being afterwards taken by Sir William Wade, Lieutenant of the Tower, for fear of his threats, affirmed his master had written the letter himself (not daring to be known, that he had written it at his master's appointment), but afterwards being at liberty, he went to the Recorder and affirmed before him, that it was his master that had caused him to write it, and had himself subscribed it: and for this the man was committed to a close and strait prison, to Bridewell, the worst prison about London.

Notwithstanding all this, upon the reading of this letter, my Lord of Salisbury presupposed it as granted that Mr. Tresham did mean to equivocate in this letter, which the good Father did not contradict, not observing perhaps the circumstance of Mr. Tresham his words before alleged, which was no marvel, being clean wearied out with so long standing at the bar, and answering to every man's questions before, which more concerned himself; and himself so often interrupted in his own discourse, that it was misliked by divers of the standers-by; yea, the King himself, who was there in private, sent word at length to my Lord of Salisbury, he should give the prisoner leave to speak freely. My Lord of Salisbury therefore took occasion upon this supposition to speak at large, and said, though he would not meddle with Mr. Garnett in matters of divinity, yet because he had been particularly employed in that service, he desired to demonstrate with what sincerity and moderation His Majesty's justice was carried in all points. And so he discoursed of the manner of the proceeding therein, and said it was not performed with such solemnity in respect of Garnett, who was but a private man, but to discredit in his person his religion, and to credit the Gospel, and also to show the King's just proceedings to the world, and withal to favour the City of London, in doing it in the sight of the city. Then he showed how gently Father Garnett had been used, more like a nurse-child than otherwise, and that in this arraignment divers things had been permitted to be read, which made for Father Garnett; as namely this testimony of Mrs. Vaux, who, said the Earl, would sacrifice her life to do him good. And so he concluded, affirming that the whole course of proceedings in that matter had been mixed with such clemency, as he thought there was none so malicious that could calumniate. My Lord of Northampton also made a speech much to the like effect, to show the foulness of the Plot of Powder, the just and merciful proceedings of the King, and the presumptions of Father Garnett his being guilty.

Which done, the jury was willed to go together, and Father Garnett, ere they departed, desired them they would take such things as he had denied, to be justly and truly disavowed, except they had more evidence to the contrary; and desired them to give their verdict only upon that which was acknowledged to be true, and not upon any other presumptions. And so indeed (by God's providence) it was performed: for they went together for a short time, and presently returned and pronounced him guilty directly for not revealing this treason.[^477]

[^477: Which was indeed. Erased in Orig.]

He was then asked whether he had any more to say for himself, and my Lord of Salisbury told him it was the King's pleasure he should have free leave to speak (but this leave was pronounced very late, after so many hours of continual interruption). The Father answered he had no more to say but God save the King; and referred himself to the mercy of God and the King, and that he desired their Lordships to recommend his cause unto His Majesty, whom if it would please to grant him life, he would labour to deserve it the best he could, his conscience reserved. If otherwise, he was prepared to die.

Then Serjeant Crooke prayed judgment might be given. The crier was willed to proclaim silence. The Lord Chief Justice, Sir John Popham, pronounced sentence of judgment against him, which was, to be hanged, drawn, and quartered.

The Earl of Northampton made a second speech to this effect unto the prisoner. “Nothing is, that hath not been: nor nothing hath been, that is not. That all which hath been spoken this day might be rightly understood, you are condemned not for religion or your profession; but for treason verified by pregnant proofs. It is necessary to look into the ground of this action and safety of the King; which by the Scripture is sufficiently commanded and proved, that there is no cause sufficient to depose Princes, neither tyranny, nor adultery, nor idolatry, nor apprehending of Priests, nor simony, nor heresy, nor apostacy. No power upon earth can dispossess him. That Popes have attempted it sometimes, hath been abuse crept in within these five or six hundred years, but the ancient Popes would never do it, yea, St. Gregory calleth the Emperor, his Lord. No man may lay hands upon the King, as is proved by many examples in the Old Testament. You are commanded in the New Testament to obey your Princes; and so all the ancient Fathers teach. For the Prince's life is in no man's power, but in the hands of God Himself. All examples of Scripture prove you ought not to touch his body, but to persuade his soul. You allege the Canon of Nos Sanctorum to prove it in the Pope's power to depose Princes for some causes; but it never can be proved lawful by any learning or law for this 1600 years. Therefore whosoever doth maintain it, is in a foul and most gross and grievous error.”

This was about six or seven o'clock at night. Then the Court broke up; and Father Garnett being condemned to die was returned back to the Tower until the day of his execution. The King as he went from the place of trial, where he had been in private, was heard to say, they had done the prisoner wrong to interrupt him so often; and also, that if he had been in the prisoner's place he could have defended himself better in some points. The Protestants were generally much appalled at the beginning of Father Garnett his speech, and some that came from the hall said, that never any man did speak so at that bar. But towards the end, they did weary him exceedingly with so many interruptions and interrogations. But it did comfort the Catholics much that he was condemned only for concealing the treason which he had only heard in confession; and consequently his condemnation and death was only for concealing confession, which is a most happy cause, and the case of a martyr, as all the Catholics did then account him, and as the justice of his cause did then approve him: and God hath since his death declared by diverse signs, of which I will afterwards speak in their fit place.

Chapter XIV. Of The Arraignment And Execution Of Father Ouldcorne And Those That Suffered With Him, And Of The Occurrences There, With A Brief Relation Of His Life.

Whilst Father Garnett was kept as yet in the Tower and the expectation great[^478] what would become of him, not only of all the people, but of many principal persons also (the resolution of the Council concerning him being known to very few), and whilst, in the meantime, the whole afflicted company of his friends and spiritual children did join in earnest prayers unto God for him; whilst this was the thought and the business of the poor distressed Catholics, it was determined by the State that Father Ouldcorne should be sent into the country, where Father Garnett and he were taken, there to be arraigned, condemned, and executed. Wherein assuredly the providence of God, and His sweet disposition was plainly to be seen both towards the good Father himself and all the Catholics of that shire. For doubtless a more grateful thing could not have happened to that Father than to suffer in that place where he had laboured so long, and now to water those plants with his innocent blood which he had, with the help of God's grace, so carefully planted, and so many years watered before with Catholic doctrine and instructions of good life. Neither could anything have been provided more profitable or pleasing to that country than to have him die amongst them, whom in his life they did so highly and so worthily esteem, and to see his constancy at the end of his course, whose virtues they had seen and admired in so many years' conversation. Briefly, they might well and did esteem it a great happiness to see him go to a crown of glory who had assisted so many of them to the obtaining of grace, “ut coronati essent in misericordiâ et miserationibus.”[^479] And so to have him a patron to their country for time to come who had been a pattern to them in the way of virtue whilst he walked amongst them.

[^478: In every place. Erased in Orig.]

[^479: That they might be crowned with mercies and compassion (Cf. Ps. iii. 4).]

This good Father, therefore, about the midst of Lent was sent from the Tower towards the county of Worcester, and with him Mr. Thomas Abington, in whose house both Father Garnett and Father Ouldcorne were taken; with them also Mr. John Winter, the youngest of the three brothers, who was before condemned when his brothers and the rest of the conspirators were condemned, but was not executed with them, because the Council would have some of them executed in the country for the greater terror; and rather this than the rest, because he was no actor about the Powder, but only a party in the rebellion, which, therefore, was thought fittest to be punished where it was performed: and withal it was the rather deferred until this time of Father Ouldcorne his execution, to make a show unto the people that Father Ouldcorne was to be touched with the same conspiracy or rebellion for which it was known the other suffered. With him also was sent down Ralph ———[^480] of whom I spake before, who had for some years faithfully served Father Ouldcorne in his spiritual business and negotiation for souls, and was taken with him, and brought up to London with him, and had suffered torture in the Tower with him, and now was carried down with him, and was to go to Heaven with him.

[^480: Ralph Ashley, for eight years Father Ouldcorne's servant, is believed, like Nicholas Owen, to have been a Lay-brother of the Society.—Ed.]

As they went through Holborn, going out of London, Mrs. Abington[^481] did meet her husband, Mr. Thomas Abington, and, with many tears, took her leave of him, but yet promised to labour earnestly with the King for his pardon, which she hoped to obtain the rather by her brother's means, who was the Lord Mounteagle, now in special favour, as you may guess, being the man that had discovered the Plot of Powder.[^482] Mr. Abington wished her to be of good comfort, for himself was not troubled; and withal, willed her to put His Majesty in mind how he had suffered four years' imprisonment for his good mother, for whom also his elder brother was executed, and that himself had never undutifully thought against him or his in his life. They were all carried down to Worcester like prisoners, and prisoners supposed to be guilty of most heinous treason, and their usage by the way and at their coming to Worcester answerable thereunto.

[^481: The Lord Mounteagle's sister. Erased in Orig.]

[^482: As you might read in the beginning. Erased in Orig.]

They were arraigned at the Lent Assizes, which is a Court of public justice holden twice a year in every county for the trial, as well of country causes in law, as for life and death, touching all such malefactors as are taken and do belong to those shires in which the Assizes are holden. Therefore, at the Lent Assizes at Worcester were brought to the bar Father Edward Ouldcorne and Ralph ——, also Mr. Thomas Abington and Mr. Humphrey Littleton, of whom I have declared before that he was the man in whose chamber Mr. Robert Winter and Mr. Stephen Littleton were taken. In which respect this Humphrey Littleton, hoping to deliver himself from danger of the law (upon the large promises that were contained in the proclamation to any that would be the means of taking Father Garnett), discovered Mr. Abington his house, where both Father Garnett and Father Ouldcorne were taken. And yet it was not God's will he should for so evil a deed have his expected pardon, for his greater good, as it is to be hoped, for, seeing worldly hopes and promises to fail him, he sought for mercy[^483] at God's hand, and became very penitent for his fault and frailty showed in that discovery. Mr. Abington was indicted and condemned upon the statute of relieving Priests, although he did allege for himself that which had been sufficient to clear him, vdlt., that he was absent from his own house, and who might come in his absence he knew not, nor could hinder; and, before he came, they were so shut up and besieged in secret places, that they could not be gone; therefore he, neither being cause of their coming nor staying, could not justly be found guilty of that penal statute. But they knew so well his constant love to Catholic religion (which had been so often times and so well tried before), and his devotion also and respect unto Priests was so well known unto them, that they made no scruple at all to presume that those two Fathers were there with his approbation and good liking; in which respect they doubted not to condemn him as guilty, although, before the time of execution, there came a reprieve from London, obtained by his wife and the Lord Mounteagle of His Majesty; and so his life remaineth still at the King's pleasure, and his lands and goods forfeited: which lands of his, because they should have returned to his heirs in case he had been put to death (this statute being but of felony and not of treason), they might be a motive to save his life, that so the gain might be greater by his life than by his death it could be.[^484] The gentleman showed great constancy, courage, and devotion at the receiving his judgment, as he had often done before in his examinations and conventions before many several commissioners for the cause of religion, where at all times he did answer with such learning, judgment, and sufficiency (being a man of great reading and of a very good understanding), that his adversaries were generally unwilling to deal with him in that kind. And several Bishops of Worcester (to whom he had been prisoner)[^485] had received diverse foils at his hand both in private and public conferences.

[^483: Where it is ever found by those that seek it with a penitent heart, which he did, and acknowledged his fault to be exceeding great in betraying those Fathers. And both there publicly in the Shire Hall did ask Father Ouldcorne publicly forgiveness and again at the time of his execution, acknowledging that he had done both them and all the Catholics of England great wrong in being cause of their apprehension. Erased in Orig.]

[^484: I am uncertain whether he was condemned of felony or treason, because of harbouring a proclaimed traitor. In marg. in another hand.]

[^485: And the Bishops of Worcester in particular (whose prisoner he had been before that). Erased in Orig.]

Mr. Humphrey Littleton was indicted and condemned of high treason, for receiving and harbouring the two gentlemen before named, Mr. Robert Winter and Stephen Littleton, who were proclaimed traitors. He acknowledged that fact, which he could not deny, but yielded he had much more deserved death for his treason to God in betraying his servants those two good Fathers, than in any ill intention he had unto the State, in not delivering up those two for whom he was condemned.

Father Ouldcorne his indictment was so framed that one might see they much desired to have drawn him within the compass of some participation of this late treason; to which effect they first did seem to suppose it as likely that he should send letters up and down to prepare men's minds for the insurrection. But for this they had no other ground but that he was a man so much esteemed by the best Catholics in those parts, and those countries were the place which it seemed the conspirators did most trust upon for assistance. They also did seem to think that he had written some letters for the relief and conveying away of Mr. Robert Winter and Mr. Stephen Littleton after their rebellion, and before they came to Humphrey Littleton's, where they were apprehended. Also, they accused him of a sermon made in Christmas, wherein he should seem to excuse the conspirators, or to extenuate their fact, and, withal, that speaking with Humphrey Littleton in private about the same matter, he should advise him not to judge of the cause, or to condemn the gentlemen by the event, alleging some examples and authorities to prove that God doth not always give present success to such causes as yet He doth approve and will afterwards prosper. “Sed nullam istarum causarum poterant probare, Patre rationem reddente, quoniam neque in Legem, neque in Regem quicquam peccavit.”[^486]

[^486: But none of these causes could they prove, the Father showing that he had not sinned in anything, either against the law or against the King.]

And for the first, being a mere supposition, without any proof or instance to be alleged, it could not have any force against him, whereas his protestation was of great force in denial thereof, affirming seriously, upon his death and salvation, that he never knew anything at all of that treason, and that he was as innocent thereof as the child new-born. And for the second, as they without proof did suppose that he had holpen to convey away Mr. Robert Winter and Mr. Stephen Littleton, being his ghostly children and dear friends, he cleared himself very sufficiently from so unjust an accusation. But, withal, did prove very learnedly there at the bar, that if he had so done, yet he could not be justly condemned for that by any law, all circumstances considered of his estate and theirs, they having been reputed for so virtuous men before this error, and might justly be presumed to be very penitent now for this enterprise so unadvisedly undertaken.[^487] For the last, he utterly denied he had spoken anything, either in public or private exhortations, to justify the attempt of the conspirators, and declared there what he had said and with what intention. And Mr. Humphrey Littleton, who had been his accuser in those points, did there publicly ask him forgiveness in the Shire Hall, and said he had much wronged him.

[^487: In which case the gravest casuists of this time. Erased in Orig.]

But when none of these things could be proved against him, yet, being a Priest and a Jesuit well known to have gained many souls to the Catholic faith, he was found guilty by the jury and condemned by the judge to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, as in case of treason, and as blessed Father Campian and Father Southwell and others of his predecessors had been before him. He received the sentence with joy, and told them there in public that he had been tortured in the Tower five hours five several days together, one after another, which, if it were five hours at a time even one of the days (as his words were understood), then was it a most great extremity that he sustained. For one hour's torture will make the hands so swollen and so sore (besides the pain in the other parts of the body), that it is a very cruel thing to put a man to the like the next day after. “Sed Deus non deserit sperantes in se, in quo omnia possumus.”[^488]

[^488: But God, in Whom we can do all things, does not forsake them that hope in Him (Cf. Jud. xiii. 17).]

Ralph —— was also indicted and condemned, upon supposition that he had carried letters to and fro about this conspiracy. But they neither did nor could allege any instance or proof against him, and he solemnly protested, upon the salvation of his soul, that he had never known of the treason in the least degree. So that he could not be condemned nor suffer for any other cause but for the helping and assisting the good Father there condemned with him, in his spiritual functions. Which cause, as it was glorious in itself, so for it the good and virtuous man did very gladly accept both sentence of death and death itself, as he showed most apparently after, when he came to his execution.

Thus they received all four sentence of death, but Mr. Abington was reprieved, and they three were kept in the jail together, with Mr. John Winter, until the next Monday after, which was the day of execution. In the mean time Father Ouldcorne added one gem more unto his crown by the conversion of an obstinate sinner, who was condemned to die for his notorious wickedness. This man “cum in eâdem damnatione esset, necdum tamen timebat Deum,”[^489] but the very day before he was to die went singing and whistling up and down the prison, and jesting now with this man and then with another, which thing being observed by Mr. John Winter, the young man, pitying much the lamentable state of soul of that poor heretic, began to admonish him that such neglect of his future account could not proceed but from a great blindness of soul and obduration of heart, affirming, withal, that in the Catholic religion he had been taught a much different manner of proceeding, especially at such a time. The careless heretic answered him he saw no cause to be sad, for he should be with the Lord before the next day at that time. Mr. Winter replied that he could not be sure of that, and that it depended much upon his care and penance and preparation in the mean time. The heretic replied he need not to take care for that which Christ had taken care for sufficiently. By which answer and manner of proceeding of this poor man,[^490] one may plainly see the spiritual blindness[^491] and desperate danger which heresy hath brought souls unto in this country, this being not only an opinion which some of them do hold, but an absolute point of their faith to believe, that they[^492] shall certainly be saved, and that so soon as they are dead (because they believe no Purgatory). Yea, this is with them not only a point of faith, but their very justifying faith, by which, they say, they must be saved without necessity of good works. Wherefore no marvel, though this poor fellow did out of that ground build his secure and careless proceedings, laying all upon Christ His back, wherein they pretend that they attribute much to the Passion of Christ, and that we dishonour the same by requiring the necessary concurrence of our own cooperation.

[^489: Being under the same condemnation, and not as yet fearing God (Cf. St. Luke xxii. 40).]

[^490: Blinded soul. Erased in Orig.]

[^491: The great blindness of heart. Erased in Orig.]

[^492: Are elected and. Erased in Orig.]

Mr. Winter, finding the heretic obstinate, and yet seeing and pitying his lamentable estate, told him he was far wide, “but,” saith he, “if you will talk with the Father that must die with you to-morrow, he will make it plain unto you that you are in error, and will show you the right way how to save your soul.” The man answered he cared not with whom he talked, for he knew no man could prove him to be in error. Mr. Winter called the Father, who was retired to his prayers, and hearing of this opportunity of doing good, came gladly, took the man aside, and began to catechise the man with such judgment, learning, and spirit, that he first led him out of the labyrinth of his errors, then taught him what was necessary for him to believe and know expressly, and in all the rest to[^493] submit his judgment to the Catholic Church, which he proved unto him invincibly could not err nor lead into error. Then taught him how to prepare himself to become a member of that Church, and having instructed him how to examine his conscience carefully, sent him away to do it by himself, and promised that night to hear his confession. The man returned from the Father greatly satisfied and contented, and forthwith applied himself to his business, left all his companions, and got himself into a corner, there to recount his years so carelessly spent, and so little thought of before that time. His companions, wondering at this sudden alteration, came to invite him to be merry and drink with them, as he had before, but he sent them away with this answer, that he had serious business to think of. That night the good Father kept his promise, and reduced this stray sheep into the flock of Christ, supplying with his prudence and skill that which, in so short a time and so raw a scholar, was likely to be[^494] imperfect in the preparation of his penitent. Yea, he made good proof in this one patient how great dexterity and skill he had in the curing of diseased souls. For, with the effectual assistance of God's grace, he wrought this man's mind, not only to a constant belief of the Catholic faith, but to a fervent profession also of the same, and a public demonstration of a perfect conversion. For the next morning, when the Father was laid upon the hurdle and drawn to the place of execution, according to the use and the form of sentence which was pronounced, this neophyte, being led in company of other prisoners in a foot-path hard by the horse-way, when he saw his Father come by lying upon the hurdle, he suddenly slipped from the rest of the company and stepped into the horse-way and followed the hurdle directly, though the way were foul and no footman went in it but himself. The keepers and the rest of the prisoners called upon him, and asked him why he did so. He answered, he would follow his Father to his death, whom he hoped to follow after death to a better place. “Why,” said they, “art thou become a Papist?” “I am a Catholic,” said he, “I thank God and this good Father, and so I mean to die.” They replied that he was a notorious thief, and known to have committed many mischiefs. “It is true,” said he, “I was so indeed when I was of your religion. I was then a Protestant and a thief, now I am a Catholic and penitent; and as heresy was the cause of my disorders then, so now the Catholic religion is the cause and means of my repentance.” And in this mind and manner of proceeding he continued till his death, to the admiration of all who had known his former courses, which gave occasion to divers to see and acknowledge the great difference between those trees which brought forth such different fruits.

[^493: Believe and. Erased in Orig.]

[^494: Must needs be very. Erased in Orig.]

Father Ouldcorne, being come to the place appointed for their death, first with great fervour commended himself to Almighty God, to the Blessed Virgin, and to his patron, St. Jerome, to whom he was ever very much devoted. He then declared unto the people that he came thither to die for the Catholic faith and for the practice of his function, seeing that they neither had nor could prove anything against him which, even by their own laws, was sufficient to condemn him, but that he was a Priest of the Society of Jesus, wherein he much rejoiced, and was ready and desirous to give his life for the profession of that faith which he had taught many years in that very country, and which it was necessary for every one to embrace that would save their souls. Then, being asked again about the treason and taking part with the conspirators, he protested there again that he never had the least knowledge of the treason, and took it upon his death that he was as clear as the new-born child from the whole Plot or any part thereof. Then, commending his soul with great devotion, humility, and confidence into the hands of God and to the Blessed Virgin, St. Jerome, St. Winifred, and his good Angel, he was turned off the ladder, and hanging awhile, was cut down and quartered, and so his innocent and thrice happy soul went to receive the reward of his many and great labours.

After him followed Ralph, his faithful follower and companion of his labours, who showed at his death great devotion and fervour, as may be guessed by this one action of his; for whilst Father Ouldcorne stood upon the ladder and was preparing himself to die, Ralph, standing by the ladder, suddenly stepped forward and takes hold of his good Father's feet, embracing and kissing them with great devotion, and said, “What a happy man am I, to follow here the steps of my sweet Father!” And when his own turn came, he also first commended himself by earnest prayers unto God, then told the people that he died for religion and not for treason, whereof he had not had the least knowledge; and as he had heard this good Father before him freely forgive his persecutors and pray for the King and country, so did he also. Then, before he was stripped of his clothes (which is usual to all such as are afterwards to be quartered, that their bodies may be the sooner cut up after they are laid upon the block), he, perceiving a Catholic maid of his acquaintance stand weeping by the gallows, he ungartereth himself, and, with dexterity, casteth them so unto her that others could not perceive that he did it of purpose. But the maid doth still keep the garters as great jewels, and thereby it may appear what opinion he had of his own innocency and the cause of his death. He showed at his death great resolution joined with great devotion, and so resigning his soul into the hands of God, was turned off the ladder, and changed this life for a better.

At this time also suffered Mr. John Winter, who, as I have said, was condemned at London with his two brothers and the rest of the conspirators, but reserved to die at this time for reasons before declared in the beginning of this chapter. He died with great show of devotion and good state of mind, as might appear also by his fervent endeavours the night before to help towards the conversion of that soul before mentioned. He acknowledged the fact for which he died, to wit, that he had risen in arms and joined himself to the other conspirators; but affirmed that he did it only to restore the Catholic religion: and so took his death patiently and with show of a contented, willing mind in respect of that intention.

Then suffered also Mr. Humphrey Littleton, who, before his death, and before the Father was put to death, did there again ask him forgiveness, and said he had wronged him much: also he asked forgiveness of Mr. Abington in particular, and of all Catholics in general, in respect that he was the cause of the apprehension of the two Fathers at Mr. Abington's house, for which he acknowledged he deserved death much more than for the relieving of Mr. Robert Winter and his cousin, Mr. Stephen Littleton, for which he was to suffer. He died with show of great repentance, and so with sorrow and humility and patient acceptance of his death made amends for his former frailty and too unworthy desire of life.

There had also suffered the like death[^495] for the same occasion, vdlt., for relieving of Mr. Robert Winter and Mr. Stephen Littleton before they were apprehended, one Perkises and his man in the same city of Worcester, the 27th of January before[^496]: and about the same time, for the same cause, two others in Wolverhampton: all which I suppose to have been Catholics, in that it was not likely those gentlemen would commit themselves to the fidelity of any others; but as yet I cannot learn the certainty. That same Mr. Stephen Littleton was sent down into Staffordshire, to be tried and executed in Stafford, in respect that his house was in that shire where all the conspirators were last received, and where some of them were slain and the rest taken. For which assistance given unto the conspirators, and for joining with them in open rebellion, Mr. Stephen Littleton was condemned and executed. At his death he acknowledged the fact, and said he did it only for religion, for which he was ready and willing to die. He showed great resolution and devotion, to the satisfaction of all the country.

[^495: In the same place and. Erased in Orig.]

[^496: After the old account. Erased in Orig.]

With him were sent down twelve or thirteen others, some gentlemen, some serving-men, who were arraigned and executed in the same place, who, although they were taken with their masters being in rebellion, yet they stood unto it they did it only for religion; and divers of them were offered their lives if they would go but once to heretical service, which they refused to do, and, consequently, died most happily, “eligentes potius absque opere incidere in manus hominum, quam peccare in conspectu Domini, et morientes propter justitiam regnum cœlorum adepti sunt.”[^497] But as for Father Ouldcorne and Ralph, their case was so clear that no Catholics in all the country doubted to call them, and to call upon them presently as Martyrs, and did strive exceedingly for some part of their holy relics. Besides, Almighty God did testify by special signs the great merits of blessed Father Ouldcorne, which I think fit here to set down, after some brief rehearsal of the course of his life, so far as it hath come unto my knowledge.

[^497: Choosing rather without offence to fall into the hands of men than to sin in God's sight, and dying for justice's sake, they have gained the Kingdom of Heaven.]

Father Ouldcorne was born in the county of York of honest and faithful parents, who brought him up in the Catholic religion, and in his young years kept him to school; so that he was a good grammar scholar when he first went over beyond the seas, which was about the twenty-second year of his age, and some twenty-seven or twenty-eight years ago.[^498] He first studied in France in the English Seminary at Rheims some two or three years, and from thence was sent to the English College at Rome, where he remained ——[^499] years. He heard his course of Logic, Philosophy, and —— years of Divinity, in all which he profited very well, being of a very good capacity. But his chief care and desire was to profit in spirit, which he did in such sort as was greatly to the satisfaction of all his Superiors, and the edification of the whole College. No man more careful to observe the rules, no man more forward to the practice of any mortification, often begging leave of his Superiors to go to hospitals and to serve in the kitchen, with other such like practices of humiliation, which he knew to be usual in the Society, unto which he had a vocation a long time before he could obtain his desire; though he was not deferred for any want of liking which his Superiors had, either of his spirit or other talents; but rather in their desire to further as many good spirits and sufficient men as they could to the end of the College, and to furnish the Clergy of England with able men against the time that God should please to have mercy upon our country. For the opinion his Superiors had of him was well declared in the particular choice they made of him, to send him into the kingdom of Naples and Sicily to negotiate for the College and to procure some alms, in a time of great want, when the College was far in debt, being overcharged with the number of scholars, more than their receipts were able to maintain; and yet the charity of the governors thereof such, and the want of fit workmen in the English harvest so great, that they would not lose good spirits when they offered themselves to that vocation. Father Ouldcorne, therefore, was sent about this business; and did perform it with such discretion and fidelity, that he brought a good round sum of money unto the College at his return.

[^498: Father Ouldcorne suffered April 7, 1606, æt. 45. So Dr. Oliver. Father Gerard, infra. p. 285, says that he was “near fifty years old.”—Ed.]

[^499: Seven, according to Father Henry More.—Ed.]

In the year 1588, he and Father Gerard were received together into the Society by the Rev. Father Claudius Aquaviva, General of the same, upon the Assumption of our Blessed Lady; and within five or six weeks after were sent together into England, in company with two other Priests who were not of the Society. By the way Father Ouldcorne gave very great edification unto all his company with his religious behaviour, showing in all his actions great humility and readiness to help and assist any of them in their needs. When they came to the sea-side, they understood of the extraordinary difficulty to pass into England, and of such persecution in England at that time, as had not been of long time before, the Earl of Leicester (who then ruled and overruled all under Queen Elizabeth) having made a solemn vow, that within a twelvemonth he would not leave one Papist in England; but God with His mercy prevented the malice of that persecutor, and called him out of this life within half the time that he had limited for the life of others. But in the meantime he caused divers to be put to death, both Priests and others, and set watch and ward in every town, so that none could pass the country that were not known, and could not satisfy the officers of their dwelling and manner of life. In which regard those Fathers of the College where Father Ouldcorne and Father Gerard stayed whilst a passage was preparing, would not by any means let them pass, thinking it impossible they should land safely and get safely to London.

Whereupon they wrote back to Rome, to know their Superiors' mind, yet with earnest suit that it might please them to permit their going forward. They received answer from Father Persons, that the times were much more periculous than was expected when they went from Rome, yet sith the cause was God's, and their will so good to prefer the safety of others' souls before the safety of their own bodies, they might in the name of God proceed, if their desire still continued; but that it was left unto their own election. These letters were received with great joy, and the two Fathers, within few days after, got a ship wherein they embarked, thinking to have landed in the north parts of England; but sailing along the coast of England one evening, and seeing a shore where they might be set on land, and no town nor house near them to see where they landed, they resolved to commit themselves to the providence of God, and caused the sailors[^500] to cast anchor until it was dark, and then in a cock-boat to set them on land. When they were landed, having first commended themselves to God, they purposed to have gone forward in the first way they could find, to get as far from the sea-side before morning as they could; but they found that every path did lead them to some house or other, where the dogs making a noise,[^501] they durst proceed no further in that course; but got them into a wood, and there stayed all night, whilst it rained a good pace. But yet they were as merry as might be, and well contented with their wet lodging, as I have heard one of them affirm from whom I have these particulars. Towards day they commended their business earnestly to God, and, after their prayers, resolved not to adventure both to go one way to London, but to take several courses, that so if one were taken in the time of danger, the other might scape. They therefore looked into their provision of money, and he that had more gave it unto the other to make it equal, and then they embraced and gave one the other their benediction; and one went out on the one side of the wood, the other went out of the other hand. They never had been in that country before, nor knew any one person in the country, nor the way to London, where they promised to meet. But God provided for them both.

[^500: Shippers. Erased in Orig.]

[^501: And finding it so in two or three trials. Erased in Orig.]

Father Ouldcorne joined himself to some company that he found travelling that way, and being himself of an excellent wit and very sociable in company, he did so join those companions that they desired his company to London, and so they, being known in the way, did pass freely through watch and ward, and he also as one of their company was permitted to go without any further questions. Father Gerard was stayed by the watch in the first town he went through, and was carried by the watchmen to the chief officers of the town, who were then at their heretical service (it being Sunday morning). These officers willed the watchmen to bring him into service, and afterwards they would examine him. But Father Gerard refusing to go into their church, the officers were the more displeased, and sent twice or thrice commanding him to come in. But in the end, when they saw he would not, they were glad to come out to him, and examined him of many particulars, unto which he answered readily; yet they threatened to send him to the Commissioners of the shire. And when he expected no other but to have been sent first to them and then to prison, these officers said, “He looks like an honest man. Let him go; we will not trouble him.” That first danger being past, he came safely unto the city that was the chief of that shire; and there, by special providence of God, did light into the company of some Catholics, and at last came acquainted with one gentleman of good worth, who provided him a horse and fit apparel for travel in that country, and carried him out of the city in his own company and to his own house; from thence let him have horses and a man with him to London, so that he passed very safely. And this gentleman sent earnest request unto his Superior that he might return into that country, which he granted; and so Father Gerard stayed a long time in that gentleman's house, who was his first host, and by his means got acquaintance in all that country and the countries thereabouts.

Father Ouldcorne and he met at London according to their first appointment, and by good hap found the Superior then at London, though his ordinary abode were then in Warwickshire, almost a hundred miles from London. There were then no more of the Society in England but Father Henry Garnett, the Superior, and Father Robert Southwell, who was since martyred about eleven years ago,[^502] and Father Weston, who was then in prison,[^503] where he remained until this King's time, for the space of seventeen or eighteen years, and then was banished with divers other Priests. So that at liberty there was no more but Father Garnett and Father Southwell, and these two Fathers last come, of which Father Gerard was sent back to the country where they landed, and Father Garnett took Father Ouldcorne with him into the country where he remained. And there he employed him in divers missions round about,[^504] and found him so practical and industrious that he doubted not to send him to the most difficult enterprises. Amongst the rest there was one gentlewoman,[^505] sister unto a very honest Catholic gentleman, their great friend. But this gentlewoman was an heretic, and could not by any reasons or persuasion be reduced from her errors, though divers Priests had talked with her and much labour had been spent in vain about her. But no doubt she was reserved for Father Ouldcorne, for he being sent unto her, within a few days brought her to be a perfect Catholic; and afterwards she continued ever so devout that she did more good than any Catholic in all the country, and with her Father Ouldcorne did chiefly remain for sixteen or seventeen years together. In which time of his abode in those parts it is not easy to be believed how many obstinate heretics he converted, how many weak Catholics he confirmed, how many scholars he sent over to the Seminaries and religious women to monasteries, how many houses he brought to that degree of devotion that he might and did settle Priests in them. Indeed, I may safely say of him, without amplification, that “in illis partibus totas fere fundavit rexitque ecclesias domesticas.”[^506] Yea, in my knowledge, he assisted Father Garnett also with yearly provision of money, procured from his own acquaintance, towards his charges and maintenance of others, when the Society grew to be there of greater number. All the chiefest gentlemen and best Catholics of the country where he remained, and the countries adjoining, depended upon his advice and counsel, and he was infatigable in his journeys. I neither do nor have known any one Priest in England that did go so many journeys as he did, especially towards the latter end of his time, when he grew to be acquainted in so many places, and so much esteemed in all places, that he could never almost stay three days at home but he should be sent for.

[^502: Father Southwell was executed February 21, 1595, æt. 34.—Ed.]

[^503: Father Weston was apprehended in 1586, and, after imprisonment in the Clink, was sent to Wisbech Castle in 1587. In 1598 he was prisoner in the Tower of London, and he was banished in 1603.—Ed.]

[^504: The place where he remained. Erased in Orig.]

[^505: Her name is given by Father More as Dorothy Abington.—Ed.]

[^506: He founded and governed nearly all the domestic churches in those parts.]

Yet was he for many years together of very weak health, proceeding partly of his pains-taking and partly of study, unto which he was very much addicted, and spent in it almost all the time that he had free from needful business. By which means about some eight or nine years ago he did spit blood in great abundance, but being very carefully tended and provided of all helps needful in such a case, he recovered; yet afterwards, with his like labours and earnest manner of preaching (in which he had a very good talent, though his voice were somewhat hoarse and painful unto himself, yet audible unto his hearers), he fell again to spit blood three or four times, which brought him to that weakness that no man thought he could recover. And being much consumed, he grew to have a cancer in his mouth, which afterwards was miraculously cured, as himself did tell me the story in this very manner.

When the physicians did give their judgment that the cancer could not be cured, but that he must have some parts of the roof of his mouth cut out, and some bones also, he resolved first to try what help he could have from St. Winifred, a notable Virgin and Martyr, who hath in those parts a well famous for many miracles, where she was beheaded. Thither did Father Ouldcorne resolve to go on pilgrimage before he tried any further physic. And in his journey coming to a Catholic house, where he meant to celebrate, he found upon the altar divers relics, and amongst the rest a little stone of St. Winifred's Well with drops of blood upon it (as many of the stones have that are taken up in that well and in the current that runs from it). This stone Father Ouldcorne took and went aside into a place by himself, and fell earnestly to his prayers, desiring St. Winifred's help for his health, if so it were best for the service of God. Then he put the stone into his mouth and held it there some time, and behold within half an hour his mouth was perfectly well. He went forward to St. Winifred's Well, and there also recovered the strength of his whole body, and returned home so strong and in such sort that all wondered exceedingly. And after this time[^507] he was more able to endure pains than he was before; and whereas once a year, commonly about the same time, he did usually grow weak and enter as it were into his consumption together, he used then no other physic but to go to St. Winifred's Well, whence he ever returned with perfect strength and health, which lasted him until that time twelvemonth again. All which particulars I set down as himself did recount them unto me.

[^507: (As himself did constantly affirm unto me). Erased in Orig.]

Thus he continued his labours until it pleased Almighty God to call him to receive a full reward for his so faithful service and fruitful endeavours: at which time he was near fifty years old.[^508] The manner of his apprehension with Father Garnett, also of his strict examinations and cruel tortures received in the Tower, I have set down in the former chapters, and in this chapter I have declared how he was carried down to Worcester and there condemned and executed in the place which of all others he would have chosen, if he might have had his wishes, “Domino voluntatem faciente timentium se.”[^509]

[^508: And his head full of grey hairs, the rather occasioned by his much loss of blood before mentioned. Erased in Orig.]

[^509: Our Lord doing the will of those who fear Him.]

After his death it pleased Almighty God to testify his fervent charity and received crown of glory by these two notable signs. For, first, the place where his bowels were cast into the fire (as the custom is), being in the open field and subject to rain and all injury of weather, yet did the fire continue burning there, and could not be extinguished for sixteen or seventeen days together, until at last the town of Worcester, fearing a miracle, did send to put it out with violence. But they could not hinder the people from seeing the wonder to be great, and more than natural, giving unto Catholics just cause to remember with what zeal of burning charity he had for the like number of years sought to enkindle their hearts with heavenly fire, like the true disciple of Him that said, “Ignem veni mittere in terram et quid volo nisi ut ardeat.”[^510]

[^510: “I am come to send fire on the earth, and what will I but that it be kindled?” (St. Luke xii. 49).]

In like manner there was seen to grow within the court of Henlip (which is Mr. Abington his house, where Father Garnett and Father Ouldcorne were taken, and where Father Ouldcorne had for many years together deserved a crown of glory), a formal crown of grass, both higher and of different colour from the rest of the grass round about it. And the wonder was the more in respect that the gates of the house being broken down at the time of the search, and so continually standing open, and both swine and other kind of cattle coming in, yet none of them would either eat of that grass or did tread upon it to deface it; yea, when neighbours did cut it down, in like manner as they had extinguished the fire, yet did it grow up again in like height and form as it was before, and so continued to the great admiration of all the country thereabouts. But it is to me much greater marvel that they will not open their eyes and see “quam mirabilis Deus in sanctis suis.”[^511] I hope in God the time will come when the city of Worcester will see and acknowledge both the burning charity with which blessed Father Ouldcorne lived and died amongst them, and the crown of glory which he hath received at the hand of God for his faith so truly kept and his course so happily consummate. His life was holy; his death saintly. God send us part of his blessed merits and intercession.

[^511: How “God is wonderful in His Saints” (Ps. xxii. 36).]

Chapter XV. Of The Execution Of Father Garnett, With A Brief Relation Of His Life. [And of the signs by which it hath pleased God to show his innocency and martyrdom. Erased in Orig.]

After the condemnation of Father Garnett and the execution of Father Ouldcorne, they kept Father Garnett still in the Tower, to the marvel of many, from the time of his arraignment, which was the twenty-eighth of March, until the third of May. In the meantime there was of purpose spread many false rumours of his, that forsooth he would yield and go to church with heretics, and that they should see him preach publicly heretical doctrine, and such like; all which things God knows were far from his thoughts, as he showed by his great constancy, and in express words also when he came to die. But this was done to diminish the great and worthy opinion which was conceived of him generally, and to cause some bad rumours to be spread of him in other countries before his death, that the truth itself, when it came to be opened by his constant suffering, might have the less credit, at least in some men's minds, where the contrary prejudicate opinion should be before settled.

All this time, which God of His gracious providence gave unto the holy man for his better preparation and perfecting of his fervent and religious desires, his enemies also gave him good occasion to increase his merits, often soliciting him[^512] to declare who was intended for Protector by the Catholics if the Plot had gone forward, whereby it was thought likely that the Earl of Northumberland would have been deeply touched. And to this end it was constantly affirmed by some that knew much how things passed, that both life and favour were often and earnestly offered him, if he would have yielded in that point. But Father Garnett was far from any such base and unworthy mind: neither could he ever be brought to repair his own liberty with the ruins of others.[^513]

[^512: To draw some other great person into. Erased in Orig.]

[^513: This may be considered whether it be convenient to be left out. In marg. in another hand.]

Wherefore when it was plainly seen that there was no hope to draw him to anything unlawful or unfit for a Religious Priest, it was then determined presently that he should suffer. And the day was assigned to be the first of May, which being told unto Father Garnett, he misliked the choice they had made of that day, as well in regard it hath not been usual to put any to death upon such great Feasts, as for that it hath long time been a custom in England upon that day in the morning early, for the people to go into the fields and come home with green boughs in their hands in sign of joy, and to spend most of that day in triumph and pastime. To which effect Father Garnett made answer, “What, will they make a May game of me?” which words of his (as it afterwards proved) he was by God's providence directed to speak. For when it was told to the Council what he said, they saw it was not fit, and altered the day from Thursday, which was May-day, until the Saturday following, which was the Invention of the Holy Cross, and the day no doubt assigned by Almighty God for his martyrdom; for, of all other days in that season, the martyr himself was most affected unto that, having ever had a special devotion unto the Cross and Passion of Christ; wherefore as he misliked the unfit choice of the other day, so he rejoiced exceedingly at this election, and prepared himself gladly to find this cross which God would send him upon that day, and by that cross to find the way to Heaven. He showed himself a true disciple and follower of the Apostle “et gloriatus est in cruce Domini nostri Jesu Christi, in quo est salus, vita et resurrectio ejus, per quem salvatus et liberatus est.”[^514]

[^514: And he gloried in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, in Whom is his salvation, life, and resurrection, by Whom he is saved and delivered.]

The manner of his preparation we cannot learn, all things being kept so close in that most close and strict prison, where none but his only keeper could possibly come to him; and that keeper a most malicious naughty fellow, as before hath been showed. But we may well judge of his preparation by the effects of his well prepared mind and his cheerful carriage, which, in so grave a man, was a sign of great peace and contentment of mind. When the desired day was come, Father Garnett was brought down from his chamber in the Tower, where first there met him one of the cooks of the house, who used to provide him his meat,[^515] and this man took his leave of him saying, “Farewell, good sir;” upon whom Father Garnett looking with a pleasant smiling countenance, said, “Farewell, good friend Tom, this day I will save thee a labour to provide my dinner.” And going a little further towards the hurdle, there met him also the Lieutenant's wife to take her leave, who said, “God be with you, and comfort you, good Mr. Garnett, I will pray for you.” To whom, with a joyful countenance, he gave thanks, saying, “I thank you, good madam, and for your prayers, you may keep them at this time; and if it pleaseth God to give me perseverance, I will not forget you in my prayers.” Then being brought unto the hurdle, there he was laid as the order is, having a black cloak somewhat long upon his other clothes, and a hat on his head. All the way as he was drawn (with three horses), he held his hands together, lifted up somewhat towards Heaven, and kept his eyes shut for the most part, as a man in deep contemplation.

[^515: Dinner. Erased in Orig.]

The place of the execution was St. Paul's churchyard, on the west end,[^516] over against the Bishop's house; provided so by God, that as by his virtuous life and doctrine he had confuted heresy, so by his constant death he might confound both it and the teachers thereof. In that place there was a great scaffold made, and a gibbet in the midst of the scaffold. And such multitudes of people, noble and ignoble, so many standings set up by carpenters to hire out for money, that a mere place to stand on would cost twelvepence well; and the party from whom I chiefly have many of these particulars (being a Priest of great credit and estimation) was glad to give twelvepence only to stand upon a wall. All windows were full, yea, the tops of houses full of people, so that it is not known the like hath been at any execution. When he was taken up from the hurdle, his arms being still unbound, there met him the Dean of St. Paul's and of Winchester,[^517] with a company of other ministers. And the Dean of St. Paul's said unto him (both he and the rest having their hats in their hands and with great show of reverence), “Mr. Garnett, I am sent unto you from His Majesty, to will you, that now being in the last hour of your mortal life, you will perform the duty of a true subject, to which you are obliged by the laws of God and nature; and therefore to disclose such treasons as you know intended towards His Majesty's danger and the commonwealth.” By this it may appear they had often laboured him to confess something, and could never get anything in that kind, which moved them now again to make this last trial. To this Father Garnett answered, “Mr. Dean, it may please you to tell His Majesty, that I have been arraigned, and what could be laid to my charge, I have there answered, and said as much as I could; so that in this place I have no more to say.”

[^516: Side. Erased in Orig.]

[^517: Dr. John Overal, afterwards Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, and Dr. George Abbot, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury.—Ed.]

Then the Dean and other ministers began to persuade him to a true and lively faith (meaning their own solifidian doctrine), but in this he cut them off quickly, desiring them not to trouble themselves, nor him; and said that for his estate of soul he needed not their instructions; he came prepared and was resolved. Which two last words are of themselves sufficient to convince all the slanders his enemies would fain have imposed upon him, and to declare what he had done in his private prison, whereof as yet we cannot learn the particulars. Then he was brought upon the scaffold, where there was both the Sheriffs of London, the Recorder, with the Deans and Doctors before mentioned, and some other petty officers, as also some Catholics of reckoning, and well-wishers,[^518] all which he saluted very kindly and cheerfully.

[^518: Staying for him. Erased in Orig.]

And first he asked whether there was not some place to pray;[^519] but the Recorder began to say unto him, that he and others were there by order from His Majesty, to bring him to remembrance of his treason, and that he should acknowledge he was justly condemned, and ask the King's forgiveness. To which he answered, he had not committed any treason nor offence against His Majesty, nor was ever guilty of the Powder Treason in the least degree, but had earnestly dissuaded and sought to hinder both that and all other attempts against His Majesty; neither could they condemn him for anything, but for not opening the secret of confession, in which only he had knowledge of that Powder Treason, and in which he had done according to his function, and therefore could not justly be condemned for it; neither had any ways willingly offended His Majesty. But so far forth as this concealing of the treason (unto which he was bound in conscience) did any ways offend His Majesty or the State, he did ask them forgiveness with all his heart.

[^519: And perceiving that there was no place of retiring, he began to speak of the present festivity of the Cross. Erased in Orig.]

Thereupon the Recorder taking hold, said to the hearers, “Do you hear, gentlemen? He asketh the King forgiveness for the Powder Treason.” To which Father Garnett answered, “You do me wrong: for I have no cause to ask forgiveness for that whereof I was never guilty, nor was privy to it in such sort that it may justly be imputed to me for concealing it.” The Recorder then would gladly have made good his former speech with facing down the Father, and said: “What! will you deny your own hand? We have it under your hand, that you knew of it by other means than confession, that Greenway told you of it by way of consultation, and that Catesby and Greenway came together to be resolved of you.” “No,” said the Father, “Mr. Catesby never told me of any particular. And for Mr. Greenway, I knew it only, as I have said, by confession, which therefore I could not lawfully open, until now that I had leave so to do. Neither would I have named him as I have done,[^520] but lest any might think him guilty of counselling or furthering in the matter, and[^521] to the end the very truth might be known, because false reports make him thought more guilty than he is. What is under my hand I will not deny, but you shall never show my hand contrary to what I have spoken.”

[^520: In the matter. Erased in Orig.]

[^521: Further to be touched than he is. Erased in Orig.]

The Recorder answered, “You do but equivocate, and if you will deny it, after your death we will publish your own hand, that the world may see your false dealing.” The Father answered, “This is no time to talk of equivocation, neither do I equivocate. But in troth, in troth, you shall not find my hand otherwise than I have said.” Which double asseveration did satisfy the hearers much, though he would not be satisfied that was resolved and prepared to contradict. Wherefore the Recorder said to one of his followers, “Let him see his own handwriting.” “You cannot,” saith the Father, “show me any such writing of my hand.” Then he that should have had the note, said it was not there; it was left at home (at which divers of the standers-by laughed in their sleeves). “No,” saith the Father, “neither here nor at home you have any such.”

Then they asked him whether he had anything to say unto the people. He answered his voice was low and himself weak; he doubted they could not hear him. But yet he[^522] turned him to the people and said, “Upon this day is recorded the Invention of the Cross of Christ; and upon this day I thank God I have found my cross, by which I hope to end all the crosses of my life, and to rest in the next by the grace and merits of my Blessed Saviour. As for the treasons which are laid against me, I protest now at my death that I am not guilty of them, neither had knowledge of the Powder but in confession, and then I utterly disliked it and earnestly dissuaded it. Yea, I protest upon my soul I should have abhorred it ever, though it had succeeded. And I am sorry with all my heart that any Catholics had ever any such intention, knowing that such attempts are not allowable, and to my own knowledge contrary to the Pope's mind. And, therefore, I wish all Catholics to be quiet, and not to be moved by any difficulties to the raising of tumults, but to possess their souls in peace. And God will not be forgetful of them, or of His promise, but will send them help and comfort when it is most to His glory and to their good.”

[^522: Went to the side of the scaffold. Erased in Orig.]

Then some one that stood near unto him, seeking to interrupt him, and saying, “But, Mr. Garnett, were not you married to Mrs. Ann Vaux?” thereupon he, turning himself from the people to those about him, said, “That honourable gentlewoman hath great wrong by such false reports. And for my own part, as I have been always free from such crimes, so I may protest for her upon my conscience that I think her to be a perfect pure virgin, if any other in England or otherwise alive. She is a virtuous good gentlewoman, and, therefore, to impute any such thing unto her cannot proceed but of malice.”

Then, no more being said unto him, he prepared himself to execution, and asked if he might be permitted to pray, to which was answered, he might. Then he kneeled down at the ladder-foot, and there prayed for a good space in devout and religious manner. Then he helped to strip himself of his cloth unto his shirt, which was somewhat long, and himself had also sewed down the sides thereof almost to the bottom, that the wind might not blow it up, which was noted by many as a sign of great modesty in the Father. About that time a minister seemed again to insinuate himself as desirous to speak unto him in way of exhortation, but the Father desired him to hold himself contented, and not to trouble him any further.

And being upon the ladder, after he had made the sign of the Cross and desired the prayers of all good Catholics, one said unto him aloud, “Mr. Garnett, it is expected you should recant from your religion and become a Protestant,” for so it was given out that he would do, and afterwards preach at Paul's Cross. The Father answered, “God forbid. I had never any such meaning, but ever meant to die a true and perfect Catholic.” And then, looking upon the people with a pious and undaunted countenance, he wished them to consider well the state of their souls, assuring them, upon his conscience and salvation, there was no other way for their eternal bliss but to live and die in the profession of the Catholic faith. Then said the Dean of St. Paul's, “But, Mr. Garnett, we are all Catholics.” “No, no,” said Father Garnett, “you are not, for such are only Catholics as live in unity and profession of one faith, under one supreme head of God's Church, which is the Pope's Holiness, and you must be all of the Catholic Roman Church, or you cannot be saved.”

Then he prayed for the King, Queen, Prince, the Council, and the whole State. Then he desired the hangman to give him warning before he did cast him off the ladder. Then, making the sign of the Cross with “In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti,” he said, “Adoramus te, Christe, et benedicimus tibi, quia per sanctam crucem tuam redemisti mundum;”[^523] then, “Maria Mater gratiæ, Mater misericordiæ, tu nos ab hoste protege et horâ mortis suscipe;”[^524] then, “In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum,”[^525] which he repeated twice or thrice; then,[^526] “Per crucis hoc signum (blessing himself) fugiat procul omne malignum. Infige crucem tuam in corde meo, Domine;”[^527] then returned again to “Maria Mater gratiæ, Mater misericordiæ, tu nos ab hoste,” &c. Then he told the hangman he was ready, and being desirous to carry the Cross with him out of the world imprinted in his heart,[^528] he crossed his arms over his heart upon his breast, and so was cast off the ladder, and his arms continued so across as he had placed them (not being bound, nor he making any struggling at all with death) until he had rendered his spirit to his Redeemer.

[^523: “We adore Thee, O Christ, and we bless Thee, because by Thy holy Cross Thou hast redeemed the world.”]

[^524: “Mary, Mother of grace, Mother of mercy, protect us from the enemy, and receive us at the hour of death.”]

[^525: “Into Thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.”]

[^526: Again, “Maria mater gratiæ, Mater misericordiæ, tu nos,” etc. Erased in Orig.]

[^527: “By this sign of the Cross, may all that is wicked fly far away. Fix Thy Cross in my heart, O Lord.”]

[^528: (Unto which he was so much devoted). Erased in Orig.]

Neither was he cut down before he was perfectly dead. For the people was so much moved with his modesty, and so altered from their former hard conceits of him by the sight of his constancy, and by his protestation of innocency at his death, that they prevented the hangman with a loud cry that he might not cut him down too soon. Who thereupon, having permitted him to hang awhile, would then have cut him down when he presumed him to be half-dead; but the people cried out again, “Hold, hold,” and so again the third time, not permitting him to be cut down until he was thoroughly dead. Yea, and one of the citizens took him by the legs and pulled him to put him out of his pain, and that he might not be cut down alive. Which kind of favours are nothing usual when the people do presume men die for treason, and were not used to the gentlemen that suffered before, although men of good sort, and much beloved and esteemed before this enterprise.

And it was much marvelled how the people durst do this so publicly, seeing the State so generally bent against Father Garnett in this cause. But most of them proceeded much further than this. For when he was cut up and his bowels cast into the fire, and his heart pulled out and showed unto the people with these words, which are ever used in such cases, “Behold the heart of a traitor,” there was not heard any applause, or those that cried, “God save the King,” which is always usual when the heart or head is holden up in that kind.

Yea, so strange and unexpected an alteration there was in the very heretics themselves that some of them said, without doubt he was in Heaven; others said, “He died like a Saint;” others, that he looked not like a contriver of treason. Yea, and some ministers themselves were heard to say that questionless his soul was in Heaven. And, generally, the people went away much satisfied of his innocency and sanctity.

The Priest, of whom I spake before, who saw and heard most of these things, going down from his standing, went under the scaffold in desire to get some drops of his blood, which he did, and found divers there hunting for the same prey. Besides, his shirt was presently gotten by a person of great account, and most of his apparel also was redeemed by several persons, and are now esteemed of more than their weight in gold.

One marvellous thing happened whilst his body was dividing on the block, about a straw or ear of corn, which did strangely leap out of the basket into which his head and quarters were cast as they were cut up. This straw did leap into the hand of a Catholic, who stood by with great desire to get some part of the martyr's blood, but durst not be seen to take it. But, for that the chiefest marvel that concerneth this straw was not discerned at the first, but was discovered some days after, to the great comfort of Catholics and wonder of many: therefore I reserve it for the next chapter, as also some other marvel seen about Father Garnett's head.

Now, therefore, having declared how he finished his holy life,[^529] I will here set down so much of his whole course therein as I could learn from some of those that have been very inward with him, that it may the more plainly appear how his religious virtues did prepare and perfect him to this last conflict and conquest over the world.

[^529: With a happy death. Erased in Orig.]

He was born in the county of Derby. His parents were well esteemed, and well able to maintain the charge of their family. His father was given to learning, insomuch that he made profession thereof, and taught Free School in the next shire-town, which was of Nottingham.[^530]

[^530: The chapter is unfinished.—Ed.]

Chapter XVI. Of The State Of Catholics After Father Garnett His Execution: How God Did Comfort Them With Some Miraculous Events, And How Their Zeal Increased, Notwithstanding The Increase Of Persecution.

It was certainly expected by the Puritans and enemies of the Catholic cause that, together with the death of Father Garnett, the hopes also and courage of Catholics would have died, and that, when they should see so chief a man so publicly arraigned and executed under the title of so foul a matter, none would after that adventure to deal with the Society, which was the principal mark at which they aimed, with all their solemnities and unwonted preparation in the foresaid passages both of his trial and death. But the wisdom of God (against which the wit of man doth labour in vain), having determined to conform His elected servants unto His own image, and that as well by pressures and crosses in this world as by rewards and crowns of glory in the next, hath ever used a contrary course to the expectation of His enemies, and doth not permit His Church by persecutions to be dejected, but doth rather dilate the palm-tree when it is suppressed, “et facit cum tentatione proventum ut possimus sustinere, educens nobis aquam de petra, oleumque de saxo durissimo.”[^531] And He that doth daily make the most barren and stony mountains to bring forth the sweetest oil for our corporal uses, much more for the good of our souls doth use to make sweet the yoke of persecutions with the oil of His grace and mercy, “computrescere faciens jugum a facie olei.”[^532]

[^531: And makes “with the temptation issue, that” we “may be able to bear it” (1 Cor. x. 13), bringing forth for us “water out of the rock” (Ps. lxxvii. 16), “and oil out of the hardest stone” (Deut. xxxii. 13).]

[^532: Making “the yoke” to “putrefy at the presence of the oil” (Is. xi. 27).]

Therefore much otherwise than was expected, this holy seed of Father Garnett's slaughtered body falling upon the earth did bring forth great fruit. His mortified and divided parts did quicken and unite the minds of many that were before distracted with fears and uncertain reports, and his innocent blood did water the field of Christ in this country, and brought forth a plentiful harvest; yea, it did mollify the hearts of some that were before very hard to believe well of the Society, touching these imposed crimes. For although very many Catholics were before well satisfied of Father Garnett his innocency, and especially those that had dealings with him could not be ignorant how far he was from any such attempts, that laboured so much to suppress the least disorder in that kind; yet generally the heretics were otherwise persuaded, giving credit to those reports that were everywhere bruited of him. And some friends also stood doubtful how far he might be touched therein, upon the constant asseveration of his guiltiness in the cause, and that also given out by persons of no mean account. But when they heard him clear himself so fully at his arraignment from all concurrence or connivency in the matter, and perceived plainly he could and would have said much more in that place, if he had not been so often interrupted of purpose to put him out, and to disturb both his own memory[^533] and the understanding of his hearers. And when at his death they viewed his innocency, patience, and religious manner of suffering, and saw most apparently both by the one and the other that no one of the Society was to be touched with any help or furtherance, or any willing assent unto that conspiracy, nor any one of the Company[^534] have had the least knowledge thereof by any means whatsoever, but himself and that one Father from whom he had it, and they restrained by the secret of confession from opening it to others, and dissuading and hindering the same by all lawful means they could use. These things being plainly seen, and to be testified by so many witnesses as were there present both at his judgment and death, did fully satisfy all doubts, and clear the conceits of such as did before suspend their judgments of him. But especially when by his great patience and constancy seen at his death, his rare virtues did more appear, and his lamp, “quæ erat lucerna lucens et ardens,”[^535] did show itself so much the more brightly, his earthly vessel being broken, to the confusion of his enemies, and increase of comfort and courage to the faithful soldiers of our true Gideon.

[^533: The memory of the prisoner. Erased in Orig.]

[^534: Whosoever but he. Erased in Orig.]

[^535: Which “was a burning and a shining light” (St. John v. 35).]

Then, as I related in the last chapter, not only the Catholics and his friends that were beholders were much confirmed, and their tears turned into triumph for the victory which this champion of God had gotten of the slanders of the world and malice of sin and heresy, but many also of his enemies did bear witness of his innocency, “dicentes, Verè hic homo justus erat,”[^536] and wished their souls with his. Such force hath truth, that it cannot be conquered, and innocency, that it cannot be confounded. Well may it be oppressed for a time, but it cannot be suppressed; “aporiamur, sed non destituimur, persecutionem patimur sed non derelinquimur, dejicimur sed non perimus.”[^537] Yea rather, in the greatest needs our merciful God doth send the greatest comforts, and where His enemies do think most to triumph over Him, there doth He ofttimes manifest the truth, and set forth His own glory and the innocency of His servants with most apparent signs.

[^536: “Saying, Indeed this was a just man” (St. Luke xxiii. 47).]

[^537: “We suffer tribulation, but are not distressed: we are straitened, but are not destitute: we suffer persecution, but are not forsaken: we are cast down, but we perish not” (2 Cor. iv. 8, 9).]

And so it happened in this case of Father Garnett: for whereas the Fathers that suffered before in Queen Elizabeth's time were well known to all men to suffer only for their conscience, insomuch that although some matter or other were ever feigned to make it seem that they suffered for treason, yet the fictions were so palpable of matters never intended, nor so much as thought or heard of before the time they were objected, and those that were said to be joint-conspirators ofttimes so mere strangers that they never had seen or heard of one the other before: these apparent contradictions did make so manifest their innocent cause, that there need no divine testimonies to a truth so evident. But in this latter cause of Father Garnett, the case was somewhat different in the opinion of many, though his innocency the same, and the equity of his cause equal with the former. In this, it was very true, there was a real ground upon which the adversaries might raise a pretence of seeming truth in their accusation. There was a great and dangerous conspiracy intended and plotted and proceeded in by those gentlemen of whom I have before discoursed. Divers of these gentlemen were known to Father Garnett, and some of them had often used his help and the help of others of the Society in their spiritual affairs. And this matter also they had at length opened a little before it should have been executed unto two of the Society in the secret of confession, as I have before declared. Therefore in this case Almighty God did think it more needful in His divine providence to give testimony of His servant's innocency than in former times, when the cause itself was so plain, that it could not be contradicted.

[^538] The first sign by which it pleased God to show the merit and glory of this His martyr was concerning his relics, which were eagerly sought for by many Catholics at the very time of his martyrdom. Amongst the which there was one young man,[^539] who[^540] stood by the block where the martyr's body was cut up, with great desire at least to get some drop of his holy blood.[^541] And whilst he had these thoughts, not daring to take where he desired for fear he might be espied, it fortuned that the hangman having cut off the martyr's head and showed it to the people (as the custom is), he cast it into a basket standing there of purpose, full of straw, to hold the head and quarters when they were divided. Out of this basket did leap a straw, or ear void of corn, in strange manner into the hand of this young man, which he beholding, and seeing some blood upon it, kept it with great care, and no little joy that he had obtained his desire. He carried it away safely and delivered it unto a Catholic gentlewoman[^542] of his acquaintance, who kept it in a reliquary with great devotion; and after three or four days,[^543] a devout Catholic gentleman coming thither, she showed him the bloody straw, which he was also glad to see and reverence; but beholding the same more curiously than the others had done, he saw a perfect face, as if it had been painted, upon one of the husks of the empty ear, and showed the same unto the company, which they all did plainly behold, and with no small wonder, but with much greater joy did acknowledge the mighty hand of God, Who can and doth often use the meanest creatures to set forth His glory, and is able both out of stones and straws to raise a sufficient defence for His faithful servants.

[^538: Of the miraculous straw.]

[^539: This was John Wilkinson, who afterwards became a student at St Omers, and on his death-bed in that College dictated a narrative of Father Garnett's execution and the finding of the straw, which is given by Father More, Hist. Prov. Angl. S. J., lib. vii., n. 35.—Ed.]

[^540: Is now a scholar in the English College at St. Omers. Erased in Orig.]

[^541: In such sort as it might not be espied. Erased in Orig.]

[^542: Her name was Griffin.—Ed.]

[^543: Two or three months. Interlined in Orig. Wilkinson himself says, “Paucis post diebus.”]

They put up the straw again with great admiration, and kept it now with much more reverence and devotion than before. This was quickly published to many of the chiefest Catholics about London, who much desiring to see this wonder, it was carried unto divers, who all are witnesses of this truth. At length it came to the Council's ear, and some of them desiring much to see it, it was granted, being now in the keeping of a great person,[^544] but with promise to have it safely restored; so that some of them did see it, and did much admire it, affirming that it must needs be more than natural. Others after desired to see it and to seize upon it, because now the fame did grow so great of this image of Father Garnett drawn by the hand of God, whose image and memory they sought to deface in all they could, that they feared the evidence of the miracle would plead against their proceedings and prove him innocent whom they had punished as guilty. Therefore the Bishop of Canterbury[^545] sought to have the miraculous straw into his hands, but it was denied, and none would acknowledge where it was to be found. He learned out the party to whom the keeping of it was first committed, and sent for her[^546] husband, who was a known Catholic and a virtuous man. He examined him strictly how it came to pass, and where the straw was. The Catholic affirmed the truth of the thing, and described it unto him in words; but said it was not now in his keeping, and he knew not where to find it. And when they could get no other answer of him, they committed him to prison; but afterwards, having sundry and great friends in the Court, he got out upon bonds to appear again at certain days' warning.

[^544: Father More says it was the Spanish Ambassador, and he gives an attestation of the Baron de Hobocque, dated in 1625, attesting that he had seen it in 1606, when he was in London as Ambassador of the Princes of the Netherlands.—Ed.]

[^545: Dr. Richard Bancroft.—Ed.]

[^546: The gentlewoman's. Erased in Orig.]

In the meantime it happened that two were miraculously cured by application of the same straw. One was a gentlewoman in great peril of her life by danger of childbirth, who, when she had sustained long and painful travail and could not be delivered of her burthen, and now was out of hope of life, unless she might obtain some help from God, some of her friends made earnest means to get this holy straw to bring unto her; which being obtained, and the straw brought and applied with great reverence, presently she received help, and was delivered by the mighty hand of God and merits of the martyr, whom no midwife's skill or endeavours could help before.

Another was the gentlewoman herself who first had this miraculous relic delivered her to keep. For she being very much subject to sickness, and sometimes in such extremity therewith that you would not think she could be able to live an hour, it happened that in one of her extremest fits, when she could find no medicine or means that could bring her any ease, she earnestly desired a special friend to make suit for the straw to be returned unto her for a small time, which was granted; and as soon as it came (she receiving it with great devotion and reverence) she presently found ease, and within half an hour was so perfectly well that she rose from her bed, and went to entertain some strangers that then were in the house, and “erat una ex discumbentibus.”[^547]

[^547: “Was one of them that were at table” (St. John xii. 2).]

This sudden and strange cure of hers being spoken of by divers Catholics, it came out to be known unto the Council, who sent again for the husband of the gentlewoman, and took this new occasion to commit him the second time to prison.

The Council afterwards understanding that this miraculous picture in the straw had been showed to divers painters in London, they sent for the painters, and willed them to make the like portrait to that which they had seen in a like empty ear of corn; but they all answered it was not possible for them to do it: neither could the draught of that face, in so little a room and so loose a groundwork as that empty ear, be otherwise drawn than by supernatural power. And this testimony they gave of it that had both skill to judge and no will to favour the Catholic cause (being in opinion heretics), but only convinced in their understanding by the evidence of the miracle.[^548]

[^548: Father Richard Blount, in a letter dated Nov. 8, 1606, says—“A Catholic person in London having kept, since the execution of Mr. Garnett, a straw that was embued in his blood, now these days past, being viewed again by the party and others, they espy in the ear of the straw a perfect face of a man dead, his eyes, nose, beard, and neck so lively representing Mr. Garnett, as not only in my eyes, but in the eyes of others which knew him, it doth lively represent him. This hath been seen by Catholics and Protestants of the best sort and divers others, who much admire it, &c. This you may boldly report, for, besides ourselves, a thousand others are witnesses of it.” And in another letter, dated March, 1607, “It cannot be a thing natural or artificial. The sprinkling of blood hath made so plain a face, so well proportioned, so lively shadowed, as no art in such a manner is able to counterfeit the like.” Father More, whose history was published in 1660, says that the straw was kept in the Jesuit College at Liége. The last mention we have met of it is by the Abbé Feller, in his Dictionnaire Historique, which was published at Liége in 1797, and therefore after the suppression of the Society, “L'épi est aujourdhui entre les mains d'un de mes amis, qui le conserve soigneusement” (Art. Garnett).]

Another marvellous thing which it pleased Almighty God to show for a public testimony of the glory which blessed Father Garnett now possesseth, is a visible and apparent circle of red about his head in the form of a crown, which was and is to be seen about his head, where it is set up, as the custom is, with the heads of others that died for treason. This hath had so many witnesses as would go to behold it, which were not a few, and besides, they did affirm that his face did continue so comely and with so pleasing a countenance, as it seemed rather the head of a man alive than separated from the body; and all his quarters also so purely white, that it was much admired by all that did behold them.

To these I may adjoin the crown of grass which did grow in Mr. Abington his court, in the house where both blessed Father Garnett and blessed Father Ouldcorne were taken, which may be taken as a sign of his glory and crown of immortality as well as Father Ouldcorne's. And of this I spake sufficiently in the last chapter but one. I could hereunto add a vision which both of these blessed Fathers had in the Tower the 7th of March before their martyrdom, the very night before they were hung upon the torture. It happened in this manner. Father Ouldcorne in his sleep did seem to behold a very sumptuous throne set up, with great care and cost adorned, at which sight when Father Ouldcorne much admired, not knowing to what end it should be prepared, it seemed unto him that there entered into the room the most[^549] Reverend Father General, and with him some other ancient Fathers; and that Father Ouldcorne did demand of Father General what should be the meaning or intention of that throne so much adorned; and that the Father should answer that both Father Garnett and himself should presently be professed. To which Father Ouldcorne made answer that Father Garnett was already professed. Then Father General replied, he would now have him make a more excellent profession than before. This vision Father Ouldcorne the next morning told unto his keeper, desiring he would tell it unto Father Garnett, which he performed; and Father Garnett assured him the very same thing, in the same manner, had also that night appeared unto him. But Father Ouldcorne did see it again the next night after. This was so generally spoken of in the Tower about that time, that if there had been no other means afterwards to know the truth, that alone had been sufficient to publish it.

[^549: Our. Erased in Orig.]

Now, when the other foresaid marvels were seen about his head after his martyrdom, and that the miraculous image of the straw was visibly seen by many Catholics, and generally known to all, you may well think that Catholics were greatly animated, receiving now, in their greatest distress, such comforts from the merciful hand of God, “qui est Pater misericordiarum et Deus totius consolationis, qui consolatur nos in omni tribulatione nostrâ.”[^550] And, indeed, the effect of these heavenly comforts was such in the hearts of poor afflicted Catholics, but especially the force of the martyr's blood and the merits of his innocent death (which now was plainly seen by all well-meaning men, and acknowledged by many also of his enemies, as before I have related), that whereas the Catholics did already feel a sharp shower of persecution in continual searchings and imprisonments and vexations much more than in former years they had experienced; and whereas they might easily discern a greater storm coming towards them, seeing, as it were, a thick and dark cloud coming on apace, carried furiously with the wind in such sort that it was likely to spread itself over all their hemisphere, intending to make a destroying deluge, no less universal than violent: though they might plainly see and hear daily thundered in their ears what cutting and cruel laws were intended and prepared against the Parliament which then was at hand: though they were assured beforehand that the penal statutes which then were to be enacted were so many and so merciless that their life would be more tedious (and terrible to many minds) than death itself: though they could find no friends that could or would now oppose themselves “murum pro domo Dei;”[^551] the noblemen that were Catholics or esteemed friends to Catholics, together with all principal recusants, being clapt in prison; and all others that before did seem to favour the cause now being blown away with this storm of persecution, and carried with the current of the present stream rather to oppose themselves against Catholics, both in word and action, than any ways to seek the release or relaxation of their present afflictions or prepared penalties: though all this, and more than I can in this place commodiously set down, were felt and feared by the Catholics at this time, yet such was the goodness of God towards us, such the force of His grace obtained by the merits of these holy martyrs, that presently, upon the death of blessed Father Garnett, you might see his innocent blood had warmed all their hearts; you might see in them a new fervour, expecting persecution with a peaceable and cheerful mind; you might see them everywhere begin to prepare themselves neither to resist nor run away, but how to bear the blows of persecution with Christian patience.

[^550: Who is “the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort, Who comforteth us in all our tribulation” (2 Cor. i. 3, 4).]

[^551: “A wall for the house of Israel” (Ezech. xiii. 5).]

And although there were some few examples of human frailty, making choice rather to do against their conscience in going to heretical service than to adventure the loss of their earthly commodities, yet these were so few in number, and so followed afterwards with the remorse of conscience and the justice of God, that their example did rather confirm than weaken the constancy of other Catholics. I could hear but of three men of any note then fallen in that sort, whereof one was a knight, of a worthy family, and himself ever a devout Catholic; his lady also, ever forward but much affected to those[^552] men that would not at the first submit themselves to [the] Archpriest, whom His Holiness had appointed to be their Superior in England. This good gentleman, as I heard, having long paid the statute for his recusancy, which is 20l. a month, now upon this increase of persecution, and the commodity of his recusancy which should accrue unto the King being given unto a Scottish man, the Catholic gentleman offered him 2,000l. for a fine, and to pay the rent of 20l. a month, as he was wont to do beside; but the Scottish man refusing to take his offer upon hope to make a greater gain of him, the knight would not endure to be made a prey to a man of so insatiable a mind, and therefore resolved for the time to forfeit rather the greater goods, the goods of grace, and said he would conform himself to the law. He went, therefore, to their heretical service, and saved the forfeiture of his worldly estate, but with so great a torment of conscience that, poor gentleman, he fell into such fits of melancholy and distemper therewith, that it was generally given out that he was distract of his wits.

[^552: Party. Erased in Orig.]

There was another knight also, more rich in worldly substance than furnished with spiritual money to maintain the war against his spiritual enemies. This man, seeing persecution to come against him with double forces to the strength of grace which he had provided to resist, “rogavit ea quæ pacis erant,”[^553] and did it in such manner as that “omnes qui viderunt, inceperunt illudere ei.”[^554] For, thinking to give double satisfaction if he could bring his wife to church with him, he laboured to overthrow her constancy in that kind, and when he found she would not yield unto his desires therein, the poor gentleman, out of his too much desire to seem conformable, went unto the Commissioners and complains of his wife's obstinacy in that point, desiring them to help him to reform his wife, or rather, indeed, to deform her according to his ill example. But she remained constant, and he, poor knight, was laughed at for his labour, even by his very enemies, with whom he sought to gain much credit with that double diligence.

[^553: He desired “conditions of peace” (St. Luke xiv. 32).]

[^554: “All that” saw it began “to mock him” (St. Luke xiv. 29).]

A third example I heard, of a gentleman of good estate, who, preferring darkness before light, and seeking to make a convention or union between God and Belial in his soul, offered himself to go to their heretical conventicles for the saving of his worldly substance; and so he did, and escaped the punishment of the law: “sed nunquid Deum fallere aut fugere potuit?”[^555] No. “Qui voluit animam suam salvam facere, perdidit eam.”[^556] He went to church: he thought to preserve his goods for the provision of many years, “et stultus non prævidit quod illâ nocte repeterent animam suam;”[^557] he was stricken with sudden death, leaving his goods to the fruition[^558] of others, and this dreadful example to the admonition of all.

[^555: But could he deceive or escape God?]

[^556: He who would save his life, lost it (Cf. St. Luke ix. 24).]

[^557: And in his folly did not foresee that that night they would require his soul of him (Cf. St. Luke xii. 20).]

[^558: Enjoying. Erased in Orig.]

So merciful hath God been unto us in these times of our greatest needs and trial, as to encourage us by the worthy example of many that stand, and to terrify by the example of these few that have fallen; for I have not heard of any other examples of any men[^559] of note; which, if we compare with that which St. Cyprian recordeth of his times, when great numbers did run to offer themselves before they felt the force of persecution, upon the only fame and fear that an edict was to be published against the Christians, this may give us great hope that God neither is nor will be wanting with His graces, if we be not wanting to ourselves, but will give us abundance of spiritual forces answerable to the measure of that trial He will put us unto, “nec patietur nos tentari ultra[^560] id quod possumus, sed faciet cum tentatione proventum ut possimus sustinere.”[^561]

[^559: Worthy. Erased in Orig.]

[^560: Supra. Erased in Orig.]

[^561: He “will not suffer” us “to be tempted above that which” we “are able; but will make also with temptation issue, that” we “may be able to bear it” (1 Cor. x. 13).]

The Parliament presently ensued, against which time the Puritans had provided two pestilent books, as hath been touched before: the one to prove all recusants to be traitors, the other that the rules and precepts of the Catholic doctrine, yea, the very fruit of the whole tree of the Catholic Roman faith, was to teach men disobedience to Princes, yea, to deprive Kings of their temporal estates, and, finally, to kill, murder, and destroy their persons. And all this to the end that both the King himself and all the Peers of the realm might be so incensed against Catholics and their religion, as to proceed by laws against the one, as against traitors proved and convinced so to be, and to seek by all means possible, not only to cut down the other as a tree bearing in their opinion such poisoned fruit, but rather wholly to root it out of their earth of England, that there might be no memory left of the name of a Catholic in the land. And they prevailed so far with the false reasons set down in these malicious books, and with their most[^562] subtle and manifold subornations exhibited unto His Majesty and the Peers in the Parliament House, taking occasion to blow the coals that already were kindled in dislike taken against Catholics for the late attempt, that they easily prevailed to get those laws passed which before they were resolved of, and which in particular were known to be a breeding when those gentlemen ran so heady a course to prevent so great a deluge of persecution, which they feared, and we have felt to light upon us.

[^562: Secret and. Erased in Orig.]

For although they now intitle this new increase of persecution to be occasioned by that temerarious conspiracy, which is disliked by us as much as by themselves, yet certain it is (as I have showed before) that these laws were intended and prepared before either they or we knew anything of this intention of conspiracy. And many of the Puritans themselves, “ex abundantiâ cordis,”[^563] could not choose but utter how fully they were resolved in that Parliament to seek the utter extirpation of the Catholics, and what things in particular they would procure and were prepared to be enacted against them. And truly the laws which they then intended, and which they afterwards in the Parliament procured to pass against us, were very sufficient in the likelihood of human reason to work the effect which they most wished, and to root out Catholic religion and all that professed the same out of the land, if God did not stand in defence of His servants,[^564] against Whom neither wit nor force of man, “imo nec portæ inferi prævalebunt.”[^565] How cruel and afflictive the laws are in themselves, and how grievous and intolerable it is for Catholics to live where they are put in execution, I will leave to the judgment of the prudent reader, meaning in the next chapter to set down a catalogue of them, that he may see in one place collected together a sum of those afflictions unto which we are continually subject, that he may not hereafter permit himself to be deceived with such false reports, as are of purpose given out by the politics of England, that forsooth the persecution is not great and that none are there punished, especially not with death, but for matter of State and treason against the Prince; which to be most untrue his own eyes shall be judge, when he reads the very words of the statutes enacted, which I will truly but briefly set down as they lie in the statute-book, which is printed and in every man's hands through England, so well known that it cannot be contradicted.

[^563: “Out of the abundance of the heart” (St. Matt. xii. 34).]

[^564: Beholding St. Stephen's conflict.—Erased in Orig.]

[^565: Nor even the gates of hell shall prevail (Cf. St. Matt. xvi. 18).]

And now, after the Parliament in which all these laws were passed against us, to add unto the weight of our heavy burthen, two other new afflictions were devised, not specified in the laws: the one to punish the bodies of Priests, the other to afflict and wound the minds of all sorts of Catholics.

The first was a proclamation of banishment to all Priests, that by such a day, which was there limited within a short compass in the edict, all should depart the realm; if not, to expect no mercy but present death upon their taking. By which banishment, as they pretended, on the one side, to do it in show of favour (as though they sought not their deaths, but rather wished they would draw themselves out of danger by their voluntary departure). And, indeed, it is true they do not so much seek their deaths as their departure, knowing on the one side, by experience, what force the blood of martyrs is of, both for the confirmation of Catholics and conversion of heretics; and withal that there is no means so effectual to scatter St. Peter's sheep, and to make them a prey unto the wolf, as to take their Pastors from them: for, as St. Bernard wisely saith, “Væ illis qui assumuntur ad opera fortium, et non aluntur cibo fortium.”[^566] So that with this counsel, this seeming favour, but indeed a slow consuming fire of persecution was put in practice, and many Priests that were in prison in several places of England were, according to the same edict, put into ships and banished the realm by the day prefixed. Knowing withal what misery and want they were like to suffer in foreign countries, where they were not capable of benefices or cure of souls for want of language, and where their wants must needs be exceeding great, having no friends nor acquaintance nor means to furnish themselves even with necessaries, unless it please Almighty God to move the hearts of Princes to impart some temporal relief unto them, that they may be partakers of their spiritual riches and the merits of their sufferings. And this was hoped by the heretics would not be very plentiful, in respect of the seminaries and the wants of other afflicted Catholics in those parts, who have also continual need of their charitable helps. And hitherto, as I understand, their wants are very great and the provision very small which is made for them, and the hopes and desires of the heretics too much followed. But God will raise them friends, I trust, and send them provision in due season, “qui recordatus est Danielis in lacu leonum et pascit etiam pullos corvorum invocantes eum;”[^567] and though sometimes He will try His servants far, yet doth never forget the least of them, “quorum etiam capilli numerati sunt.”[^568]

[^566: Woe unto those who are chosen for the works of the strong, and are not fed with the food of the strong.]

[^567: Who remembered Daniel in the lions' den, and feeds even “the young ravens that call upon Him” (Ps. cxlvi. 9).]

[^568: Whose very hairs are numbered (Cf. St. Matt. x. 30).]

The other more universal affliction, and the same so much more grievous as it was more internal and piercing even to the very souls of those that did accept it, was a new oath devised for the distinction, as was pretended, between faithful and faithless subjects to their Prince, but indeed to distinguish the true subjects of the See Apostolic from those that would renounce the power thereof for the pleasing of their Prince.[^569]

[^569: Here must be added the oath, and some few words after, to bring in the other chapter. In marg.]

Chapter XVII. A Catalogue Of The Laws Against Catholics Made By Queen Elizabeth And Confirmed By This King, And Of Others Added By Himself.

It hath ever been one point of policy in the Government of England, since the beginning of persecution there, to hide the same from the knowledge of the world, and from being judged to be such by other kingdoms round about them, as much as could be possible. To this end they have ever sent and maintained their instruments in other countries to[^570] maintain that opinion in men's minds. To this effect often advices have been[^571] sent into all Princes' Courts by letters, which their friends and favourers there should publish and procure to be believed. For this cause, when any Catholic Princes' Ambassadors have come into England, there hath been cunning wits ever employed to resort unto them and possess them with a different conceit from that which is and hath been the true state of Catholics in England. And if they were such as come with intention to labour for the help or ease of Catholics in any sort, then, perhaps, for a time there should be some cessation, or else some hope or half promises given, of toleration, or mitigation at least, in that matter. And that which they could not hide from being seen, they would at least cover, and keep from being known to be persecution for cause of religion. And, therefore, both in their laws at home, and letters of information sent abroad, would invest the same with other names, as of treason, and offences against the State; when nothing less than disobedience to the civil government was found in Catholics, nor any subjects in the realm more faithful, or loving, or obedient to their Prince in all things which were not against their faith or religion. Yet did the politics ever with printed books endeavour to prove that all was but the execution of justice against traitors and persons disobedient to the State. But herein they follow the platform of the first enemies and persecutors of Christ and His Church; and we the example of our Master, suffering as He did, for that which we neither preach nor practise, nor can be proved against us. Although they cry out never so loud, “Invenimus hos subvertentes gentem nostram,”[^572] because we desire to draw them to their ancient faith and profession of the same: “et prohibentes tributum dari Cæsari,”[^573] because we will not grant the supremacy in ecclesiastical matters which he affecteth, (for as for other corporal tributes, none are so ready as Catholics to pay all duties): “et dicentes se Christum et regem habere[^574] alium,”[^575] because we say and profess that the Pope is Christ His Vicegerent on earth and governeth His spiritual Kingdom, and we His children and subjects in this spiritual government.[^576]

[^570: Establish and. Erased in Orig.]

[^571: Usually. Erased in Orig.]

[^572: “We have found” these men “perverting our nation” (St. Luke xxiii. 2).]

[^573: “And forbidding to give tribute to Cæsar” (Ibid).]

[^574: In Roma. Erased in Orig.]

[^575: And saying that they have another Christ and King.]

[^576: Which Himself denied not to Pilate to be in the world, though it were not a kingdom of the world. Erased in Orig.]

Therefore, although they cry out never so much that this is “contradicere Cæsari,”[^577] and that whosoever doth favour this cause is not “amicus Cæsaris;”[^578] yea, though they cry, “Crucifige, crucifige,”[^579] against us, and lay the heavy cross of persecution upon our shoulders for this cause, we must and will have patience, because it is Christ His cause and quarrel, and not as they affirm, and would have the world believe, that we suffer for matter of State, or for stubbornness and disobedience to[^580] the King or civil government.

[^577: To speak “against Cæsar” (St. John xix. 12).]

[^578: “Cæsar's friend” (Ibid).]

[^579: “Crucify, crucify” (St. Luke xxiii. 21).]

[^580: Our Prince. Erased in Orig.]

And that the truth may herein the better appear, I will now, according to my former promise, set down a Catalogue of the laws that are made and stand in force against Catholics in England, which being carefully considered by the discreet and pious reader, I will ask no other judge than himself, either touching the greatness or the cause of persecution in England, for I know he will both see and say much contrary to that which the politic heretics in our country and their favourers in other places have given out, and would gladly have to be believed.

And albeit there be many severe and rigorous laws and statutes in force against Catholics at this day in England, that were made by King Henry the Eighth after his revolt from the Church of Rome, as also in[^581] the Governors of King Edward the Sixth, under whom religion was first altered and the sects of Zuinglius and Calvin were brought into our country: which laws and statutes, being repealed by the Princes of pious memory, King Philip and Queen Mary, were revived again and established by the authority of other Parliaments under Queen Elizabeth and the same confirmed, as hath been said, by His Majesty that now is: yet do I not think it necessary to set down[^582] in this place any other statutes than such as were made and allowed by these two latter Princes, which comprehend all the other, with many additions and aggravations besides. And in citing them, I will use as near as I can the very words themselves of the statutes, as they are in print.

[^581: By. Erased in Orig.]

[^582: Cite. Erased in Orig.]

First, then, Queen Elizabeth, coming to the crown in the year of Christ 1558, she called a Parliament soon after, in the said first year of her reign, wherein she repealed all the good statutes and laws which her sister, Queen Mary, had made in favour of Catholic religion, conform to the laws of all her ancestors, Kings of England, from the first Christian King until that time, except the latter end of her father's reign, King Henry the Eighth, and the minority of her brother, King Edward the Sixth, whose laws in favour of schism and sectaries[^583] Queen Elizabeth revived, adding many of her own, which after do ensue.

[^583: Heresy. Erased in Orig.]

And first of all, she meaning to break principally with the See of Rome, as well in regard of her nativity, which the said See held not for legitimate, as of the favour borne by the said See to Queen Mary of France and Scotland, mother to our King that now is, then living and reigning in prosperity, and much envied and suspected by the other; it was enacted that every Englishman, of what state, degree, or condition soever, whensoever he taketh any office, dignity, ecclesiastical benefice, or holy orders, any degree of school, university, profession, or other promotion temporal or spiritual, shall take a corporal oath upon the Evangelist protesting and swearing that he doth utterly testify and declare in his conscience that the Queen is Supreme Head of the Church of England and not the Pope; and that neither he nor the See of Rome had any ecclesiastical jurisdiction, power, superiority, or pre-eminence over that Church, nor ought to have. So help him God.[^584] Stat. an° 1° Elizab. cap. 1°.

[^584: As by the contents of that book, &c. Erased in Orig. Elizab. cap. 1°.]

And moreover, that whosoever shall refuse to take and make this oath, being required thereunto, shall for the first time of denial, not only be disabled of the foresaid preferments, offices, degrees, and dignities whatsoever, but also lose and forfeit all his goods and lands to the said Queen, and suffer perpetual imprisonment as in case of præmunire. And for the second time, if he persist three months in the same after the first tender, and will not take and pronounce the same oath in form aforesaid, then he shall forfeit, lose, and suffer death, and other like pains, forfeitures, judgments, and executions as is used in cases of high treason. Ibid. et an° 5° cap. 1°. This treason you may see was only against the state of heresy and schism, not against the State of Queen or Commonwealth.

And then yet further. Whosoever shall by writing, printing, preaching, or teaching, by express words, deed, or act (for so are the words of the statute), advisedly and directly affirm, hold, set forth, maintain or defend the authority, power, or jurisdiction spiritual or ecclesiastical of the Bishop of Rome, or his See, heretofore claimed or used within the realm of England, or of any other dominion or country thereunto belonging; for his first offence he shall forfeit and lose all his goods and chattels, as well real as personal: and for the second offence, besides the loss of goods and lands, he shall be cast into perpetual prison: and for the third time (if again he offend in defending the said Pope's authority), he shall suffer the pains of death, and other penalties, forfeitures, and losses appointed in the cases of high treason. An° 1° Eliz. cap. 3° et an° 5° cit°.

And then for conclusion. Whosoever shall be aiders or abettors to any such offenders, assisting or comforting them to set forth and extol the said power and ecclesiastical authority of the Bishop of Rome, or to refuse the foresaid oath in form before set down, and shall be lawfully convicted thereof; they shall for the first time lose all their goods and lands, and for the second be condemned to perpetual prison as in the statute of provision or præmunire. An° 5° Eliz. cap. 1°.

And these punishments were afterwards more increased by another Act of the same Queen, in the fifth year of her reign, where it was ordained that all aiders, counsellers, and comforters[^585] in this case should for the second time suffer the pains of death, and other forfeitures and losses of their goods, lands, honours, and nobility, as in cases of high treason. An° 5° cap. 1°.

[^585: And abettors. Erased in Orig.]

It was ordained in like manner, for preventing of the Catholic education of all English youths, that no person shall take upon him to be a schoolmaster or teacher of children, either in public schools or private houses, except he first take the said oath against the Pope's spiritual authority, and that he believe the supreme authority of the Queen in all causes ecclesiastical. Ibid.

Moreover, it is enacted by authority of the said Parliament that all clergymen shall leave and abandon from this time forward the old Roman use of Latin service, Mass, and administration of other Sacraments, and shall betake themselves to say or sing the same in English in all churches and chapels, and to administer the Sacraments after the manner, rites, and fashion which is set down and prescribed in a new book of Common Prayer set forth for the purpose, and he that shall refuse to do so, or shall use any other rite or form of service or Sacraments than is therein appointed, shall for his first default be committed to prison for six months and lose the fruits of all his ecclesiastical living for a whole year, and for the second offence shall lose all his living for ever and lie in prison a year, and for the third time shall be condemned to perpetual prison all the time of his life. An° 1° Eliz. cap. 2°. Here you may see what it is they intend when they urge Catholics to come to their churches and service, and that it is no act of temporal duty or obedience in civil matters which they require (as they will sometimes pretend, to make us thought disobedient and stubborn), but a renunciation of our old and the only true religion and a conformity to their new doctrine. This is the thing which we refuse, and for which they call us recusants, and for which they punish us by many and severe penalties, as shall appear by those that follow.

And conform to this it was also decreed that if any layman that hath no ecclesiastical livings shall be present at any other sort of service than the aforesaid appointed in the common book of prayer, as, for example, at Mass or Roman service, or shall receive any other sacraments, or after other manner, form, or ceremony than is there prescribed, he shall, for the first time of his so offending, forfeit an hundred marks of lawful English money unto the Queen, for the second four hundred marks, and for the third shall lie in prison all days of his life. And if he refuse to come to the church he shall pay xiid. for every Sunday and holiday wherein he faileth. Anno 1° et 5° Eliz. cap. 2°.

These laws made Queen Elizabeth in the first five years of her reign. But afterwards, growing more angry with Catholics and Catholic religion, but especially with the See of Rome for the sentence of Pius Vtus against her, she added many bloody laws more, in the thirteenth year of her reign. As, for example, that if any man shall bring into England or into any of the dominions thereunto belonging, from the Pope of Rome or from any man that hath authority from him, any Bull, writing, instrument, or authority to absolve or reconcile any person, or to promise any such absolution or reconciliation by speech, preaching, teaching, writing, or any other open deed, that then all and every such act or acts, offence or offences, shall be deemed and adjudged by the authority of this Act to be high treason. And as well the offenders as the procurers, abettors, and counsellors, shall suffer death and other losses as traitors. Anno 13° Eliz. cap. 1°.

Moreover, that if any person within the realm of England or dominions thereof, after the first day of July, Anno Domini 1571, shall willingly receive or take any such absolution or reconciliation from the said Bishop of Rome or any of his successors, or by any that have authority from him; yea, if he shall receive or admit any manner of Bull, writing, or instrument from the said See of Rome, written or printed, containing any such thing, matter, or cause whatsoever, or if any offer thereof, motion, or persuasion being made unto him, shall not disclose or reveal the same to some of the Privy Council, all shall be high treason in him, and he shall suffer death and other losses for the same, as in cases of that crime is accustomed. Ibidem.

And yet further, that whosoever shall bring into any dominions of England after the time before named any token or tokens, thing or things, called by the name of Agnus Dei, or any crosses, pictures, beads, or any such like, from the Bishop or See of Rome, or from any person or persons authorized from the said Bishop or See to consecrate or hallow the same; or shall deliver or offer, or cause to be delivered, any part thereof to any subject of this realm, or of any the dominions thereof, to be worn or used in any wise, that then, as well the same person or persons that shall receive the same to the intent to use and wear, being thereof lawfully convicted by the order of the common laws of this realm, shall incur the penalties, pains, and forfeitures provided by the statute of præmunire, which are the loss of all his lands and goods and perpetual imprisonment. Anno 13º Eliz. cap. 2°.

Now when, by the acerbity and peril of so many cruel laws and statutes, divers Catholics, being terrified, desired and sought means to go into voluntary banishment beyond the seas, and to leave the realm either with or without licence, the Queen, understanding thereof, prevented them with another new law the very next year after, enacting that all and every person and persons, of what state, degree, or condition soever they be, under the obeisance of the said Queen, who sithence the first day of her reign have passed or hereafter shall pass into any dominions of foreign Princes without her special licence by writing, under the great seal of England, privy seal, or privy signet, and shall not return within the space of six months next after proclamation made for them to return and yield their bodies to the custody and ward of the sheriff of the county, &c.; all such persons shall forfeit and lose to the said Queen the whole profits of their manors, lands, tenements, and hereditaments during their lives, and all their goods and chattels for ever. Anno 14° cap. 6°.

Moreover, that if any person, born under the obedience of Her Majesty, have or shall pass into foreign countries with leave and licence, as before is prescribed, and shall not presently, within six months after the expiring of the said licence, return home and yield their bodies in custody, as is before prescribed, shall suffer the same loss of goods and chattels and the rents of their lands as the other that went forth without licence.

And whatsoever conveyances, estates, grants, leases, gifts, or devises, they or any of them shall be found to have made of their lands and goods for their own relief to defraud the Queen, shall be utterly void, and of no validity at all in law. Anno 14º Eliz. cap. 6°.

These laws passed in the first fourteen years of the Queen's government. But afterwards, as she grew older, she did in most Parliaments aggravate the same. As, namely, in the twenty-third year of her reign, taking upon her to expound and explicate the former statute of bringing in Bulls, &c., from Rome, she determineth that by what means soever any man did pretend faculty or power to absolve any person or persons from their sins, or shall reconcile them to the Roman Church, or persuade to the acknowledgment of the Pope's ecclesiastical authority over England, it shall be high treason both to the absolver and the absolved, to the reconciler and to the reconciled, that shall willingly yield thereunto, yea, and to all the procurers, aiders, and counsellors. All which, being lawfully convicted thereof, shall suffer death, as in case of high treason. Anno 23° Eliz. cap. 2°.

And if any person or persons shall come to know of any man so absolved and reconciled, or of any such that doth absolve or reconcile, and shall not, within twenty days at the furthest, disclose the same to some justice of peace, or to some higher officer of the Prince, he shall be taken, tried, and judged, suffer and forfeit as offenders in misprision of treason, vdlt., he shall forfeit his lands and livings, but not suffer death for the same. Ibidem.

[^586] In this Parliament also it was decreed, that for so much as many Catholics did upon conscience retire themselves from going to the Protestants' church and service more than before, that every such recusant, being above the age of sixteen years, instead of paying xiid. for every Sunday, which was by former statute appointed, should now forfeit and pay to the Queen 20l. of lawful English money for every month, and, besides this, should be bound to put in sufficient sureties in the [sum] of 200l. at the least for their good behaviour, and so to continue bound until such time as the person so bound do conform himself to come to church. Anno 29° Eliz. cap. 2°.

[^586: Month's Recusance.]

And, moreover, because it was presumed that every recusant would not be able to pay this 20l. a month for his recusancy, it was enacted that such as were not able to pay the said statute should pay two parts of three of all their lands and goods, so as he that should (for example) have three hundred should pay two hundred yearly to the Queen for his recusancy, and retain one hundred for maintenance of himself, his wife, children, and family.

In the same Parliament it was also enacted that if any person or persons, body politic or corporal, after the Feast of Pentecost then next ensuing, should keep any schoolmaster for their children which should not repair to the church, or not be allowed by the Bishop or Ordinary of the diocese (which allowance could not be had without abjuring the Pope's authority and the Catholic religion, as before hath been showed), then shall he or they forfeit and lose for every month[^587] 10l., and the schoolmaster or teacher himself, besides his lying in prison for one whole year, shall be disabled for ever to be a teacher of youth or to exercise that office in any place afterwards.

[^587: So keeping. Erased in Orig.]

And to the end that Catholic recusants might be able to pay these payments and pecuniary forfeitures to the Queen, and not be able to make away any part of their livings for their better relief, it was also enacted and declared in this Parliament that every grant or conveyance of goods or lands, every bond, judgment, or execution had or made from that time forward which should be judged to be done of purpose to defraud the Queen, or to save their lands or goods from being forfeited by virtue of[^588] this statute, that all such conveyance made by any Catholic recusant since the beginning of the said Queen's reign, or after to be made for the use and relief of the said recusant, or any of his, should not be available in law, but all void, as if they had not been made. Anno 28° Eliz. cap. 6°.

[^588: According to. Erased in Orig.]

But a little before this, to wit, in the precedent year, the said Queen, understanding that Priests and ecclesiastical men were multiplied in England by reason of the English Seminaries in Catholic Princes' dominions,[^589] caused terrible thundering statutes to be made against them. And first, that all and every Jesuit, Seminary Priests, and other Priests whatsoever, made and ordained out of the realm of England by any authority, power, or jurisdiction derived, challenged, or pretended, from the See of Rome, since the Feast of the Nativity of St. John Baptist in the first year of the said Queen's reign, 1559, shall within forty days depart out of the realm, and shall not return again without peculiar licence of Her Majesty, under pain of death and other losses and forfeitures accustomed in cases of high treason. Anno 27° Eliz. cap. 2°.

[^589: Foreign countries. Erased in Orig.]

And then, secondly, if any subject of the realm whatsoever, after the said time of forty days expired, shall wittingly and willingly receive, relieve, comfort, or maintain any such Jesuit, Seminary Priest, or other Priest, Deacon, Religious, or ecclesiastical person as is aforesaid, knowing him to be such an one, such suffer the pain of death, and other losses, as in case of felony. Ibidem.

Moreover, it was enacted by authority aforesaid, that if any of Her Majesty's subjects or their children, now being or hereafter shall be brought up in any College of Jesuits or Seminary already erected or hereafter to be erected in the parts beyond the seas, shall not within six months next after proclamation in that behalf, to be made in the City of London under the great seal of England, return into this realm, and thereupon, within two days next after his return, before the Bishop of the diocese, or two justices of peace of the county where he shall arrive, submit himself to Her Majesty and the laws, and take the oath of supremacy against the Bishop of Rome his ecclesiastical jurisdiction, set forth in the first year of the Queen's reign; that then every such person otherwise returning or abiding without such submission and forswearing his religion, as is aforesaid, shall be adjudged a traitor, and suffer, lose, and forfeit, as in cases of high treason. Anno 21° Eliz. cap. 6°.

And it was further enacted in the same Parliament that, if any subject of the Queen's, after the foresaid forty days expired, shall either by way of exchange, bank, merchandize, or any shift or means whatsoever, wittingly and willingly, directly or indirectly, convey or send over the seas or out of the Queen's dominions any money or other relief to or for any Jesuit, Seminary Priest, Deacon, Religious, or ecclesiastical person, scholar, student, or the like, or for the maintenance or relief of any College or Seminary already erected or to be erected, that every such person so offending shall lose all his goods and lands and suffer perpetual imprisonment, as in case of præmunire. Also it was enacted that whosoever should send over any such students as aforesaid to the Seminaries shall for every time forfeit 100l.

[^590] And yet further, in the year 35 of the Queen's reign it was enacted that every recusant persevering in denial to go to the Protestants' churches should be bound to go to their ordinary places of dwelling, and not to depart from thence above five miles, under pain of losing all their goods and chattels. And they which should have no certain dwelling-place should repair to the place where their father and mother dwelt, under the same pains and forfeiture. And he that should fail in this either is condemned to live in perpetual prison or to abjure the land. Anno 35° Eliz. cap. 2°.

[^590: The Statute of confinement.]

And yet this being not thought sufficient severity in this kind, another statute was made, ordaining that whosoever, by printing, writing, or express words, deeds, or speeches, should practise or go about to move or persuade any of the Queen's subjects to deny her power in ecclesiastical causes, or to abstain from going to the Protestants' church, or to be present at any unlawful assemblies under colour or pretence of any exercise of religion contrary to Her Majesty's laws, or shall themselves refuse for three months' space to go to the said churches and hear divine service, that then they shall be forced to abjure the realm and go into perpetual banishment, or if they refuse the same, they shall suffer death and other losses for it, as in cases of felony. Anno 35° Eliz. cap. 1°.

These are the chief statutes made against Catholic religion in general by the late Queen Elizabeth. For we do pretermit divers others more particular, and concerning particular persons. As, for example, that of the 28th of her reign (cap. 1°), wherein the Lord Thomas Paget, Baron, Sir Francis Inglefield, Knight (one of the Privy Council to Queen Mary, of worthy memory), and other Catholic gentlemen, were attainted of treason, their goods and lands confiscate, upon the former statute of fugitives, for that they either went forth of England without licence, for preservation of their consciences, or returned not when their licence was ended.

Another statute was also made in the 39th year of Queen Elizabeth's reign (cap. 8°), wherein it was decreed that all such Archbishops, Bishops, Deans, and other spiritual Prelates of Queen Mary's time, as were deprived by this Queen's ecclesiastical authority, for that they would not accommodate themselves unto the form of religion by her set forth, were well and lawfully deprived, and by their deprivation the said bishoprics were made merely void, and the others invested in their places by the Queen's authority were only the true Bishops and had lawful episcopal jurisdiction.[^591] And divers other such particular things, which in this place we think good to pass over.

[^591: Authority. Erased in Orig.]

All these statutes, then, of Queen Elizabeth against Catholic people and their religion, being so grievous and rigorous, as you see, were confirmed by His Majesty that now is, without any restraint or mitigation, in the first Parliament, as before hath been said, with divers other aggrievances thereunto added of new; as that Catholic recusants should not only pay the 20l. a month ordained by the former statute for such as refused to go to the Protestants' church and service for conscience sake, but, besides this 20l. a month to be paid for himself, he should also pay 10l. a month for his wife or children that shall refuse to go to the said churches, yea, and another also for his servants.

Moreover, that all such young men or children that shall study on that[^592] side the seas (being Catholics) or frequent the schools or Colleges of any of the Jesuits, or shall not return home within a certain time limited to give account of themselves and their religion, shall forfeit their inheritances in England and other dominions of His Majesty, and the next of his kindred shall enjoy the forfeiture that will conform himself, &c.

[^592: This. Erased in Orig.]

And furthermore, whereas, in the beginning of his said reign, certain new canons, constitutions, and ordinances were agreed upon by those of the Protestant clergy to molest and afflict Catholics withal, by pretended censures of excommunications, as, namely, that four times at least every year all preachers, readers of divinity, and all other ecclesiastical persons, in sermons, collations, and lectures, shall teach open and declare to the people that all authority and jurisdiction of the Pope of Rome (as a thing not having any ground by the law of God) is, for most just causes, taken away and abolished, and that therefore no manner of obedience or subjection is due thereunto, but only that the King's power, which in his dominions and countries is the highest power under God, above all other powers and potentates upon earth; and that whosoever denieth this, let him be excommunicated ipso facto, and not restored but only by the Archbishop after his repentance and public revocation of those his wicked errors. These are the words of his first two canons.

And the same punishment is laid upon whomsoever shall hold or affirm that the Church of England now established by law under His Majesty, is not a true and Apostolical Church, teaching and maintaining the doctrine of the Apostles.

And many other things like unto this, passing from one article to another of their sect, and binding Catholics, under pain of excommunication, to believe and hold all that they hold, or else to be vexed with citations, condemnations, excommunications, and other vexations, together with the writs and processes de excommunicato capiendo, as before you have heard suggested by the Chancellor. Unto all which His Majesty gave consent and authority by his letters patent, under the great seal of England, upon the year 1603, and first of his reign, in these words:—

“We have, for us and our heirs and lawful successors, of our especial grace, certain knowledge and mere motion given, and by these presents do give our royal assent to all and every of the said canons, orders and ordinances and constitutions, and to all and everything in them contained. And we do, by our said prerogative royal and supreme authority in causes ecclesiastical, notify, confirm, and establish, by these our letters patent, the said canons, orders, &c., and all and everything in them contained. And, moreover, do straitly enjoin and command by our said authority, and by these our letters patent, that the same be diligently observed and executed,” &c.

So His Majesty, in the first year of his reign, after he had confirmed and revived all the laws of Queen Elizabeth made and executed against Catholics; by all which he made it evident unto his Catholic subjects that he would not only continue and go forward in the steps of Queen Elizabeth touching the persecution of Catholics, but increase and add unto the same. For this increase of afflictions, which was laid upon Catholics the first year of his reign, was little in respect of that which was intended against them. Which divers of the forward Puritans did not stick to affirm and to threaten in the King's name, as Roboam did in the beginning of his reign, saying, “Minimus digitus meus grossior est dorso patris mei. Et nunc pater meus posuit super vos jugum grave, ego autem addam super jugum vestrum; pater meus cecidit vos flagellis, ego autem cædam vos scorpionibus.”[^593] To the like effect did many of his officers give out His Majesty's intentions to be; which, though we may presume to have been contrary to his royal disposition, yet they did so far prevail with him, that he afterwards verified what they had foretold, by confirming the former laws of Queen Elizabeth and adding unto them as you have heard. But especially when he called the second Parliament, and in that suffered to be packed together all the principal Puritans of the realm, whose insatiable hatred against Catholics we knew very well would never take up until they had made laws answerable to their mind and malice against us. Then they all before the Parliament consulted, and concluded of the bills and laws they would urge to be passed against Catholics, as afterwards, indeed, it was performed. And many of those intended laws were known to divers Catholics long before the Parliament time, which, as it is thought, was a great motive unto the gentlemen to undertake their rash and dangerous conspiracy, as deeming so desperate a course to be a needful remedy in so desperate a case.[^594]

[^593: “My little finger is thicker than the back of my father. And now my father put a heavy yoke upon you, but I will add to your yoke: my father beat you with whips, but I will beat you with scorpions” (3 Kings xii. 10, 11).]

[^594: Here must be added the chief laws made in the third year of the King's reign. And after that some few lines to show how much Catholics must needs suffer under so heavy a yoke, more than they do under the Turk or any other Government, and how hard it is for Catholics to live in such trials, being so barred the Sacraments and helps, according to that of St. Bernard, “Væ illis qui assumuntur in fortium et non aluntur fortium.” In marg.]

End Of The Narrative.

Alphabetical Index.

Abbot, George, Archbishop;
a visit from clvi, present at Fr. Garnett's death 290,
persecutes Fr. Cornforth and the Vauxes clxxxvi,
receives Sir George Talbot cc.

Abergavenny, Katherine Lady;
Lord Vaux's sister clxxxvi.

Abington, Dorothy;
her conversion by Fr. Ouldcorne 283.

Abington, Thomas;
in the Tower 27,
condemned to death for harbouring Priests 28,
life spared at Lord Mounteagle's intercession 28,
absent when Henlip is searched 152,
apprehended 157,
sent to Worcester 266,
meets his wife 266,
tried 267,
reprieved 268,
foils various Bishops of Worcester 269.

Adams, John;
martyr, in the Marshalsea xiv.

Albert, Archduke, Governor of Flanders; cxcvii,
delays foundation of Watten cc.

Aldobrandini, Hippolitus Cardinal;
Viceprotector of the English College, Rome ccliv.

Aldridge;
a merchant, reaches Douay ccliv.

Alfani,
sends a MS. to England from Rome ccl.

Alford, Michael, S.J.;
author of Annals ccxlix.

Allen, Wm., Cardinal;
wishes Fr. Gerard to return to England xvi,
desired harmony between seculars and Society cciv,
obtains an indulgence for a prayer for the conversion of England cclxii.

Aquaviva, Claude, General S.J.; ccxxviii,
admits Fr. Gerard and Fr. Ouldcorne into the Society xvi, 279.

Arden, Edward;
executed cxv.

Arden, Francis;
escapes from the Tower with Fr. Gerard cxv.

Arragon, D. Blasco de, cclviii.

Arundel, Anne Countess of;
receives Fr. Southwell and Fr. Gerard lvii, at Acton cclv.

Arundel, Philip Earl of;
in the Tower x, lvii.

Arundell, Henry Lord; letter from Fr. Thorpe ccxlix.

Ashby Church;
story of “good Sir Wm. Catesby” painted in 55.

Ashley, Ralph, S.J.;
tortured 181,
taken to Worcester 266,
tried 271,
martyred 275.

Atkinson, William;
a Priest spy, informs of Fr. Gerard's letters lxxxviii,
tries to have him rearrested cxxix,
betrays Thomas Tichburn, the martyr cxxx.

Babington's plot; xv, xvii, 26.

Babthorpe, Sir Ralph;
at Louvain cxcvii.

Babthorpe, Thomas, S.J.; ccxlii.

Bacon, Sir Francis;
examines Fr. Gerard xciii, and two servants of Mrs. Vaux cclvi.

Baldwin, William, S.J.;
his letter to Fr. Persons cclviii, proposed for attainder 165.

Bales, Christopher;
martyr xviii.

Bancroft, Richard, Bishop of London;
sermon at Paul's Cross 43,
enquires respecting Father Garnett's straw 303.

Banks, Richard, S.J.;
succeeds Fr. Gerard at Braddocks cxxxi.

Barker, Thomas.;
William Wiseman's servant xliv, xlix.

Barkley, Sir Richard, Governor of the Tower;
examines Fr. Gerard xciii,
resigns his governorship ciii.

Bates, Thomas;
servant of Catesby, enters conspiracy 84,
suspected 135,
tried in Westminster Hall 192,
his letter of regrets 210,
his death 219.

Baynham, Sir Edmund;
77, 82, 236, 251.

Beaumont, see Tesimond.

Beesley, George;
martyr xviii.

Bellamy, Anne;
betrays Father Southwell ccxiv, ccxviii.

Bellarmine, Robert Cardinal;
his letter to Fr. Gerard cciii.

Bergholt, East, St. Mary's Abbey; xxxvii.

Bishop, William;
in the Marshalsea xiv.

Blackburn, see Thomson.

Blackfan, John, S.J.;
proposed as nominal Rector of Louvain cxcvii.

Blackwell, George, the Archpriest;
his house near the Inns of Court cxxx,
informed of Watson's plot by Fr. Gerard, 74.

Blase, James, O.S.F., Bishop of St. Omers;
transfers Watten to Society cc.

Blount, Richard, S.J.;
intending to leave England clxxxvii,
letter to Fr. Aquaviva ccxlvii.

Blunt, Sir Christopher;
in Earl of Essex's rising 56.

Booth, Charles, S.J.; ccxlix.

Brabant, florin of; xiv.

Braddocks;
William Wiseman's house xxx,
Fr. Gerard's residence xxxii,
searched lii,
Mass at ccliv.

Brewster, a Priest at Northend xli.

Briant or Brian, Alexander, S.J.;
martyr 17.

Bridewell;
Richard Fulwood in xliii, li.

Bromley, Sir Henry;
searches Henlip 151,
takes Fr. Garnett and Fr. Ouldcorne to London 157.

Brooke, see Gerard.

Brooke, Sir Basil; cc.

Brooksby, Eleanor; cxxxv,
at Lord Vaux's 137.

Browne, Robert;
a Priest cxxxiv.

Browne, William, S.J.;
a Lay-brother cxcix.

Brussels, Benedictine Convent xxxvii.

Bryn;
seat of the Gerards ix.

Brynhill, Sir Peter de; ix.

Buckley, see Jones.

Buckland, Ralph;
Fr. Gerard's fellow-traveller xvi, ccliv.

Buchanan;
teaches regicide 122.

Campion, Edmund, S.J.;
martyr 17,
his praises by Fr. Henry Walpole xci,
effects of his coming to England 131.

Caracena, Conde de; cxciv.

Carvajal, Donna Luisa de;
her will cxciii,
founds English Novitiate cxciv.

Catesby, Robert;
entered the Plot in good faith 11,
proposes it 52,
descended from “good Sir William” 54,
his early life 55,
wounded in and fined for the Earl of Essex's rising 56,
consults Fr. Garnett in general terms 65,
conduct on discovery of the Plot 106,
scorched with powder 108,
shot 109,
manner of his death 110,
at Lord Vaux's 137, cclvi.

Charles, Duke of York; 85, 91.

Clarke;
his treason 250.

Clarke, William;
committed as a recusant xlii.

Clermont College, Paris;
Fr. Gerard at xii.

Clink, prison;
spiritual exercises in lxxii,
Good Friday in lxxxvi,
Fr. Gerard in lxix,
Fr. Percy in cxxxiii,
Brother Emerson in xlv, lxx, lxxviii, lxxxix, ccliv,
Brother Lilly in lxxi,
John Rigby, the martyr, converted by Fr. Gerard in lxxii.

Cokayne, Edward;
reports a search in Mrs. Jenison's house ccliii.

Coke, Sir Edward;
examines William Wiseman i,
examines Fr. Gerard xciii, his book 46,
examines Fr. Garnett 164,
proposes 8 Jesuits for attainder by Parliament 164,
his speech at Fr. Garnett's trial 228.

Colendin, see Gifford.

Collyn, Patrick;
his treason 234, 249, xcv.

Conference of Protestant Bishops and Puritans in 1605; 40.

Contreras, Don Frances de; cxciv.

Cornelius John, S.J.;
martyr 17,
manner of arrest 38.

Cornforth, Thomas, S.J.;
caught at Mass clxxxvi.

Coughton;
Bates saw Father Garnett and Father Tesimond at 211.

Counter, the prisons so called; x, lxi, lxix.

Cranedge, Henry and Elizabeth;
recusants xlii.

Cranishe, Richard;
son of Robert, crosses to Middleborough xliv.

Cresswell, Joseph, S.J.;
Father Persons' Philopater attributed to him 234,
proposed for attainder 164,
superior in Spain ccxxviii.

Crooke, Sir John;
opens prosecution of Fr. Garnett 227.

Dale, Mr.;
examines Brother Emerson ccliv.

Daniell;
Mrs. Wiseman's servant xlii.

Darbyshire, Thomas, S.J.;
goes with Fr. Gerard to Rouen xii.

Darcy, see Garnett.

Digby, Sir Everard;
his and his wife's conversion cl,
his illness cliii,
his affection for Fr. Gerard cliv,
helps to convert a friend clxvi,
entered into the Plot 87,
in good faith 11,
his family 87,
his manliness 88,
his Catholic life 89,
his office in the Plot 91,
at Dunchurch 106,
his page William Ellis 110, ccii,
taken 111,
proposes match between Lord Vaux and Earl of Suffolk's daughter 137,
at Lord Vaux's cclvi,
his house in Rutlandshire, 138,
tried in Westminster Hall 191,
exculpates Fr. Gerard 209, clxxix,
clears the Society 8,
allied to Earl of Salisbury 216,
asks to be beheaded 216,
his death 216,
Fr. Gerard's letter to ccxxxiv.

Dolman, the priest;
letter to Mrs. Wiseman xliv.

Dormer, Dorothy;
marries Sir Henry Huddleston xxxiii.

Dormer, Jane;
marries Duke of Feria xxxiii.

Drury, Robert;
martyr lxxvi,
living in Fr. Gerard's house cxxvii.

Dunkellin, Richard Lord;
wishes to go to confession clix,
fights a duel clxi,
marries and converts Walsyngham's daughter clix, clxi.

Dunsmore Heath; 92.

Egerton, Sir Thomas, Lord Chancellor;
once a Catholic lix.

Elizabeth, Princess; 85.

Ellis, William alias John Williams;
page to Sir Everard Digby 110,
novice S.J. ccii.

Elmer, John, Bishop of London;
Fr. Gerard in his custody, xiii.

Emerson;
of Felsted xliv.

Emerson, Ralph, S.J.;
alias Homulus xlv, lxx,
in Clink xlv, lxx, lxxviii, lxxxix,
his examination ccliv,
moved to Newgate xlv,
sent to Wisbech, into banishment, dies at St. Omers lxxi.

Essex, Earl of;
his rising 55.

Eu, College at;
xvii, 280.

Everett, Thomas, S.J.;
in hiding clxxx,
surprised at Mass clxxxi.

Excommunications; 42.

Farmer, see Garnett.

Fawcet;
a witness against Fr. Garnett 255.

Fawkes or Faulks, Guido or Guy;
one of the first conspirators 53,
a good soldier in Flanders 59,
passes as Percy's man 63, 105,
his office in the Plot 91,
found in the vault 99,
apprehended 103,
alias John Johnson 105, 196,
in the Tower 112,
his confession ccxxiv, 112,
tortured ccxxv, 221,
tried in Westminster Hall 191,
reason for pleading “Not guilty” 195,
his death 221.

Feller;
his mention of Fr. Garnett's straw 305.

Ferdinand, Prince Bishop of Liége; cc, cciv.

Feria, Duke of;
his wife Jane Dormer xxxiii.

Filcock, Roger, S.J.;
martyr lxxvi.

Fisher, see Percy.

Fitzherbert, Thomas, S.J.;
letter to Bishop of Chalcedon ccxlii.

Fleming, Thomas;
examines Fr. Gerard xciii.

Floyd, Henry, S.J.;
ccxlii, cclx.

Foxe, Robert;
committed as a recusant xlii.

Frank, John;
betrays his master and Fr. Gerard xl,
his deposition xli.

Froude;
quotation from, on equivocation ccxi.

Fuller, Mr.;
examines Brother Emerson ccliv.

Fulwood, John;
found in Mr. Wiseman's house xliv, xlix.

Fulwood, Richard, S.J.;
Father Gerard's man xlii, xliv,
visits Lady Gerard xxxv,
taken xlvi,
imprisoned in Bridewell xliii, li,
tortured li, lxiv,
escapes lxvi,
helps Fr. Gerard to escape from the Tower cxviii,
in Belgium cclviii.

Garnett alias Gilford;
Novice S.J. cci.

Garnett, Henry, S.J.;
alias Darcy cclxii,
alias Walley 211, clxxxix,
alias Farmer 226,
his parentage 297,
Father Gerard finds him in London, 282, xxiv,
lives in Warwickshire 282,
his instructions xxv,
renewal of vows xxxviii,
his foresight xxxviii, xlv, xlvi,
Fr. Gerard tortured to say where he is xcvi, c,
receives Fr. Gerard on his escape from Tower cxxiv,
his house called Morecroftes at Uxbridge, cclv,
his house in Spital cxliii,
informed of Watson's plot by Fr. Gerard 74,
consulted by Catesby on death of innocents 65, 120, 253,
wrote to Rome his fears 71, 75, 121,
goes to St. Winifred's Well 78, 240, 258, cclxii,
persuades discontented Catholics to send Sir Edmund Baynham to the Pope 77, 82, 236, 251,
his wise direction 132,
Bates' evidence against him 136, 211,
accused in Proclamation 144,
his attainder proposed 165,
hides at Henlip 150,
betrayed by Humphrey Littleton 150,
taken 154,
identified by a Priest 156,
silences Sir Henry Bromley's chaplain 157,
committed to Gatehouse 159,
clxxxii, examined by Privy Council 159,
transferred to Tower 160,
cozened by his keeper 166,
overheard in conference with Fr. Ouldcorne 169, 241,
kept from sleep and drugged 173,
tortured 174,
may now tell what he heard in confession 175,
tried at Guildhall 225,
his indictment 226,
his speech 243,
his martyrdom 288, cclviii,
the miraculous straw 297, 301,
other signs 305,
on equivocation 244, ccxx,
his letters xlv, ccxxviii, 72 et seq.

Garnett, Thomas;
in Gatehouse 166,
sent to Tower 173,
martyred cxcv,
Novice at St. John's, Louvain cxcv.

Garney, James;
Sir Everard Digby's servant, cclxii.

Garswood;
seat of the Gerards ix.

Gasca, Donna Maria; cxciv.

Gatehouse; Fr. Garnett and Fr. Ouldcorne committed to 159,
Thomas Garnett there 166,
John Grissold there 181.

Gerard John, S.J.;
alias Starkie, alias Standish xxx, xciii,
alias Tanfield, alias Staunton, xlii,
alias Brooke clxxxvii,
alias Nelson, alias Tomson cxcvi,
alias Harrison cclix,
parentage ix,
childhood x,
is sent to Derbyshire x,
has property at Ashton xi,
sent to Exeter College, Oxford xi,
goes to Rhemes xii, ccliii,
to Paris and Rouen xii,
his vocation xii,
falls ill and returns to England xiii,
in custody of Elmer, Bishop of London xiii,
committed to Marshalsea xiv,
fined for recusancy xiv,
goes to Paris and Rome xv,
enters English College xv, ccliv,
ordained Priest xvi, ccliv,
admitted into Society xvi, 279,
starts for England xvi, 280,
lands xviii,
arrested xxi, 281,
reaches Norwich xxii,
arrives in London xxiv,
returns to Norfolk xxv, 282,
changes his residence xxix,
goes to live at Braddocks xxxii,
hires a house in Golding-lane xlvi,
in hiding-places xxxix, lii, cxxxix,
received by Countess of Arundel lvii,
taken at Middleton's lviii,
examined lix, lxi, lxxx, lxxxii, xciii, lxxxiv, cx, cxiii, ccxiv;
sent to the Counter lxi,
put in irons lix, lxiv, lxix,
his servants lxv,
removed to the Clink lxix,
his house in charge of Ann Line lxxii,
wears Jesuit's dress in prison lxxxi,
cell in Clink searched lxxxix,
removed to Tower xc,
tortured the first time xcvii,
the second time ci,
the third time ciii,
says Mass cxv,
escapes from Tower cxvii,
leaves the Wisemans cxxxi,
fears to have to leave England cxxxi,
removes to Harrowden cxxxiii,
takes half of a house in London cxxix,
which is searched cxxxvi,
moves to a house near the Strand clxii,
where without his knowledge the conspirators receive Communion, 197, ccxxiii,
his innocence of Powder Plot clxxiii, clxxviii,
in hiding clxxxii,
leaves England clxxxiv,
at St. Omers and Brussels cclviii,
goes to Rome cclxi,
and Louvain clxxxiii, cxciii,
his character ccli,
his Profession clxxxiv,
Bates' evidence against him 136,
his letters to the Council 136, 142, 207, 212,
accused in Proclamation 143,
proposed for attainder 165,
cleared by Sir Everard Digby 209,
his letters clxxxv, cxcv, ccxxxi, ccxlvi, cclix,
his description clxxxvii,
disturbed in Belgium by English Government cxcvi,
returns through Spain to Rome ccviii,
dies there ccix,
on equivocation ccix,
his MS. on Powder Plot ccxlviii,
his autobiography cclii.

Gerard Sir Gilbert;
Master of the Rolls x.

Gerard, Sir Thomas;
first Baronet x,
knighted at James I.'s accession with fair words 27.

Gerard, Sir Thomas;
first Lord Gerard x,
Knight Marshal cxxx.

Gerard, Sir Thomas;
Knight, of Bryn ix,
imprisoned twice in the Tower x, 27,
released at great cost 27,
compounds for his recusancy x,
dwelt at Etwall, within two miles of Tutbury Castle, x, ccliii, 26.

Ghent;
Tertianship founded by Anne Countess of Arundel cclxii.

Gifford, Gilbert, alias Jacques Colendin;
a Priest and spy xvi.

Gilford, see Garnett.

Golding-lane;
Fr. Gerard's house there searched xlv.

Golthwaite;
Sir John Yorke's house cclvii.

Goodman, Gabriel, Dean of Westminster;
examines Fr. Gerard lxxxii,
examines Br. Emerson ccliv.

Grafton, Novice, S.J.; cci.

Grant, John; beats pursuivants 86,
joins the conspiracy 87,
much scorched with powder 108,
taken 109,
tried in Westminster Hall 191,
his death 218,
not at Lord Vaux's cclvi.

Green, Richard;
candidate for Society cxciii.

Greenway, see Tesimond.

Grene, Christopher, S.J.;
Collectanea ccxlvii, ccxlix.

Grene, Martin, S.J.;
letter about Powder Plot ccxlvii.

Griffin, Mrs.;
receives Fr. Garnett's straw 302,
cured by it 304.

Grissold, John;
tortured 181.

Guildhall;
Fr. Gerard examined at lxxxiv,
Fr. Garnett tried in 226.

Hall, see Ouldcorne.

Harrington, Lord;
in charge of the Lady Elizabeth 85, 92.

Harrison, see Gerard.

Harrowden, Great; cxxxv, cxlvii,
altar furniture at clxxv,
searched for nine days clxxv, cxc, 141,
Bates saw the Fathers at 136, 211,
restored to Lord Vaux clxxxvii.

Hartley, William;
martyr, in the Marshalsea xiv.

Hatton, Sir Christopher;
his house cxxxv.

Heigham, William, S.J.;
maintains William Thomson the martyr lxxiii.

Henlip;
Thomas Abington's house, 149,
Fr. Garnett hides there 150,
Fr. Ouldcorne lives there xl, 150,
searched 151.

Heywood, Mrs.;
her presence of mind when her house is searched cxxxviii.

Hobadge House;
Stephen Littleton's 108, 210.

Hobocque, Baron de;
Flemish ambassador, testifies to Father Garnett's straw 303.

Holt, William, S.J.;
Rector of English College at Rome xv, ccliv,
in Belgium cxxviii,
unjustly accused 249.

Homulus, see Emerson.

Hopton, Sir Owen;
examines Brother Emerson ccliv.

Hoskins, Anthony, S.J.; cxlix,
with Fr. Gerard clxxx, with Fr. Gerard's friends cclx.

Huddington;
Winters of 58.

Huddleston, Sir Henry;
converted xxxiii.

Hunston, Brian;
in Fr. Gerard's service clxxxix.

Huntingdon, Earl of;
his wife Fr. Gerard's aunt ccliii.

Hurlston, Ha.;
in prison clxxxix.

Hymn of All Saints; 240, 254, cclxii.

Inglefield, Sir Francis; attainted 328.

Jackson, Richard;
indicted for saying Mass at Braddocks ccliv.

James I.;
his book for his son 23,
compares Papists and Puritans to two asses 123,
expectations on his accession 20,
disappointment 25,
deciphers the letter 98,
proclamation of Nov. 7, 114,
his speech 116,
his book on the Powder Plot 199.

Jenings, Alice, wife of Richard;
a recusant xlii.

Jenison, John and Michael;
Fr. Gerard's brothers-in-law ccliii.

Jeppes, John;
stayed at Frank's with the Wisemans xliv.

Jesuits;
accused 148, 193,
cleared 179,
Coke proposes eight for attainder by Parliament 164.

Johnson;
quotation from, on equivocation ccxi.

Jones, alias Buckley, John, O.S.F.;
martyr xxxii, lxxvi.

Kensington, see Laithwaite.

Keyes, Robert;
his virtue and valour 87,
joins the conspiracy 87,
taken 112,
tried in Westminster Hall 192,
his death 221.

Keynes, George, S.J.; cclviii.

Knevet, Sir Thomas;
searches the vault 103.

Knox, John;
teaches regicide 122.

Laithwaite, Thos., S.J.;
taken, escapes, is retaken clxxvi,
alias Scott alias Kensington cxcvi,
frequents Fr. Gerard's house clxxvi, ccxxiv.

Lasnet, John, S.J.;
serves Fr. Gerard lxv.

Laud, William Archbishop;
marries Lord Mountjoy and Lady Rich xxxiv.

Lee Priory;
Lord Rich's house, xli.

Lee, Roger, S.J.;
in retreat cxxxvi, cxlvi,
helps to convert his friends cxlviii, cl,
Fr. Baldwin would send him to England cclviii,
Fr. Gerard opposed to this as premature cclx.

Leeds, Sir Thomas;
at Louvain cxcvii.

Leicester, Earl of; lxii,
threats against Catholics xvii, 279,
“my Lord of Leicester's books” ccliv.

Lenox, Duke of;
Fr. Gerard's letter to ccxxxi.

Lerma, Duke of; 235.

Leutner, or Lewckener, Edmund;
of Exeter College, Oxford xi.

Lewkner, Thomas, Novice S.J. cci.

Liége, florin of xiv.

Liége, foundation at cxcvi, cxcix.

Lilly, John S.J.;
in the Clink lxxi,
liberty purchased cix,
visits Fr. Gerard in the Tower cxi,
helps him to escape from the Tower cxviii,
is taken in his stead cxxxix,
outwits Wade cxliii,
death lxvi, cxliv.

Line, Anne;
martyr, has charge of Father Gerard's house lxxiii,
changes house cxxviii,
her husband lxxiv,
visits Mrs. Heywood cxxxviii,
her arrest at Mass lxxv,
her conduct in Court lxxv,
her death lxxvi.

Lingard, John, D.D.;
on the Communion of the conspirators ccxxiii,
on the date of a letter quoted ccxxvii,
quotes affidavit of Anthony Smith ccxlvii.

Little John and Little Michael, see Owen.

Littleton, Humphrey;
shelters Robert Winter and Stephen Littleton 112,
betrays Father Garnett and Fr. Ouldcorne 150,
tried at Worcester 267,
repents of his treachery 268, 269, 270.

Littleton, Stephen;
receives the conspirators 108,
escapes for a time 110,
Hobadge House 108, 210,
taken 112,
tried and executed at Stafford 277.

Lopez;
his treason 234.

Louvain, St. John's;
the first English Novitiate S.J. cxcv.

Louvain, St. Monica's; xxxi, cxcvi.

Maltravers, James Lord;
erroneously said to have been converted by Fr. Gerard cclxii.

Manners, Sir Oliver;
his conversion clxvi,
his letter to Fr. Aquaviva cclv,
his return to England cciii,
his death cciii,
praise perhaps of him as intending to be a Priest cclxi.

Mansel alias Griffin, Richard;
Novice S.J. cci.

Markham, Anne Lady;
correspondence with Earl of Salisbury about betraying Father Gerard clxxxviii.

Marshalsea Prison; cxxx,
Fr. Gerard in xiv,
Br. Nicholas Owen in 186.

Mary, Queen of Scots; 21,
died because she was a Catholic 16,
a martyr 22,
confined at Tutbury Castle x, ccliii, 26,
Babington's plot for xv, xvii, 26,
Sir Thomas Stanley, Sir Thomas Gerard, and Mr. Roulston take her part 26.

Maximilian, Duke of Bavaria;
sends gifts to new House at Liége cc,
endows the College there cc,
his children cc.

Mayer, Father, S.J.; cc.

Mayor of London, the Lord;
searches Fr. Gerard's house clxxxi,
one of Fr. Garnett's judges 226.

Middleton's;
Fr. Gerard and Nicholas Owen taken there xliii, xliv, lviii.

Milton;
quotation from, on equivocation ccxi.

Miranda, Conde de; 235,
Condessa de cxciv.

Molina, Melchior de; cxciv.

Montacute Papers; cclvi.

Montague, Anthony Viscount; xxxiii, cxcix.

More, Thomas, S.J.;
last English Provincial before the suppression ccli.

More, Henry, S.J.;
lived at St. John's, Louvain cxcv,
Socius to Fr. Gerard at Louvain cc,
his scholarship cci.

Morecroftes at Uxbridge;
Fr. Garnett's house cclv, perhaps xlvi, cxxiv, 181.

Morton, see Talbot.

Motte;
his bark xliv.

Mountague, Dean of Chapel Royal; 45.

Mounteagle, the Lord;
the letter to 96,
his supper 101.

Mountjoy, Lord;
seduces Lady Rich xxxiv.

Myller, Ralph;
a tailor of Rhemes, his confession cxxxiv.

Nelson, see Gerard.

Nevill, the Lady;
died of ill-treatment in a search 39.

Newall, William;
a pursuivant xli, ccliii.

Newman, John Henry, D.D.;
quotation from ccxi.

Norffooke, Nicholas;
Mr. Wiseman's servant xlii.

Northampton, Earl of;
reads the letter 97,
examines Fr. Garnett 173,
speech at conspirators' trial 213,
one of Fr. Garnett's judges 226,
intercedes for the Vauxes clxxxvi.

Northend, Great Waltham;
Mrs. Wiseman's house xxxi.

Northumberland, Earl of;
his four daughters xxxvi.

Nottingham, Earl of;
one of Fr. Garnett's judges 226.

Ormes; a tailor xlii.

Ostend;
boys taken going to St. Omers by lxxix.

Ouldcorne, Edward, S.J.;
alias Hall 165,
sent to Naples to beg for the English College, Rome, 278,
admitted into the Society xvi, 279,
goes to England xvi, ccliv, 280,
converts Dorothy Abington 283,
cured of cancer in the mouth by St. Winifred 284,
danger on occasion of renewal of vows xl,
betrayed by Humphrey Littleton 150,
an escape by ready wit 154,
committed to Gatehouse 159,
overheard in conference with Fr. Garnett in the Tower 169, 241,
tortured 181, 285,
taken to Worcester 265,
tried 267,
his indictment 269,
converts a felon in prison 271,
martyrdom 274, cclviii,
two notable signs after his death 285,
his dream 306, cclxii.

Overal, John, Dean of St. Paul's;
present at Fr. Garnett's death 290.

Owen, Nicholas, S.J., alias Little John and Little Michael;
taken with Fr. Gerard xliv, lviii,
makes hiding-places lvii, cxlv,
tortured lxiv,
receives Father Garnett's letters lxxxix,
taken at Henlip 153,
committed to the Marshalsea 186,
tortured to death in Tower 182,
his patience when his leg was broken 185.

Owen, Thomas, S.J.;
Prefect of the English Mission cxcv.

Page, Francis, S.J.;
martyr cxi,
surprised at Mass lxxv,
is taken when visiting Fr. Gerard in the Tower cx,
released for money, becomes a Priest, a Jesuit, and a martyr cxi.

Paget, Lord;
attainted 328.

Paley;
quotation from, on equivocation ccxi.

Parker, Christopher;
in Father Gerard's service clxxxix.

Paschal, Mr.;
reaches Douay ccliv.

Peckham, Edmund;
Fr. Gerard's brother-in-law ccliii.

Penal laws; 15, 33, 315, et seq.,
James' statutes 29, 328.

Percy, John, S.J., alias Fisher; cclxii,
his sufferings at Flushing cxxxii,
imprisoned in and escape from Bridewell cxxxiii,
in Yorkshire cxxxiii,
with Fr. Gerard at Stoke Pogis cxlvi,
at Harrowden cxlvii,
goes to Sir Everard Digby clxxiv,
returns to Mrs. Vaux clxxxiii, cclx,
in Belgium cxcvii.

Percy, Lady Mary;
her life in England xxxvi,
her vocation xxxvii,
her sisters xxxvi, xliii, lxviii.

Percy, Thomas;
one of the first conspirators 53,
connection of Earl of Northumberland 57, 100,
married John Wright's sister 57,
his early life 57,
converted 58,
a Gentleman Pensioner 58,
hires house by the river 63,
and cellar for fuel 71,
his office in the Plot 63, 91,
shot 110.

Perkises and his man executed at Worcester 277.

Perne, Andrew;
his religion xxvi.

Persons, Robert, S.J.;
his Christian Directory xii,
forbids state affairs 76, 81,
effects of his coming to England 131,
Prefect of the English Mission xv, cxciii, cclix, 280,
admits Fr. Gerard into the Novitiate xvi,
praises Father Gerard's behaviour after the Powder Plot cclxi.

Phelips, Sir Edward;
opens Powder Plot indictment 196,
his papers cclvi.

Philips the decipherer;
committed to Tower for correspondence with Mr. Owen cclviii.

Pilgrims' Register at Rome;
entry of Fr. Gerard's name ccliv.

Polewhele;
his treason xcv.

Pollen, Joseph, S.J.;
in hiding cxl, cclv.

Popham, Sir John, Chief Justice;
execution of penal laws intrusted to 33,
examines Fr. Garnett 164,
one of his judges 226,
pronounces sentence 263.

Port, Sir John;
his three daughters cliii.

Priests;
cleared by the Conspirators 128,
Queen Mary's xxvii, xxx, 133, 231.

Puckering, Lord Keeper;
report made to xxxi, xli, xliv.

Puente, Luis de la, S.J.;
his two letters to Fr. Gerard ccv.

Puritans in Parliament 29,
and in authority 31.

Queenhithe, Conspiracy laid in, in Fr. Garnett's indictment 226, 238.

Recusants given over to enrich courtiers 34,
three degrees of, according to King James, 41.

Richard, see Mansel.

Richardson, Richard;
in Gatehouse cxc,
his examination cclvi.

Rich, Lord;
his house xli.

Rich, Penelope Lady;
her story xxxiii.

Rigby, John;
martyr, converted in the Clink by Fr. Gerard lxxii.

Rookwood, Ambrose;
his family 85,
joins the conspiracy 86,
scorched with powder 108,
wounded and taken 109,
tried in Westminster Hall 191,
farewell to his wife 219,
his death 221,
when at Lord Vaux's cclvi.

Roulston;
took part with Mary Queen of Scots, betrayed by his son 26.

Rouse;
at Mechlin cxcvi.

Rydgeley, Mary;
marries John Wiseman cclv.

Sacchini, Francis, S.J.;
had the original of Fr. Gerard's Autobiography cclii.

Salesberie, Mr.;
in Babington's plot, 26.

Salisbury, Earl of;
discloses the Plot 97,
examines Fr. Gerard 173,
his book An Answer to certain Scandalous Papers 199, 212,
speech in answer to Sir Everard Digby 215,
one of Fr. Garnett's judges 226,
Fr. Gerard's letter to ccxxxiii,
correspondence with Lady Markham clxxxix.

Savage, Samuel;
Mrs. Wiseman's servant xlii.

Savage, William;
tailor, crosses to Middleborough xliv.

Schondonch, Giles, S.J.;
Rector of St. Omers cclviii, extract of letter ccxlv.

Scott, see Laithwaite.

Scott, Sir Walter;
equivocation ccxvii.

Scudamore alias John Wiseman;
at Northend xliii,
crosses to Middleborough xliv.

Searches;
at Fr. Garnett's xxxix,
at Golding-lane xlv,
at Northend xli,
at Braddocks lii,
house in London cxxxvi,
at Harrowden for nine days clxxv, 138,
at Henlip 151,
at Mrs. Jenison's ccliii,
manner of in general 35,
Lady Nevill's death caused by 39.

Seymour, Lady Jane;
daughter of Thomas, Earl of Northumberland xxxvi,
a Protestant xliii, lxviii.

Shefford, see Stratford.

Sheldon, Hugh, S.J.;
makes hiding-places cxlv,
caught, sent to Wisbech and banished cxlvi.

Shelley, Owen alias Titchborn;
Novice S.J. cci,
Rector of Liége cci.

Sherwin, Ralph;
martyr 17.

Sherwood, Father; 234,
none such in the Society 249.

Sherwood, John, S.J.;
died before he came to be a Priest 249.

Shrewsbury, the Lady;
her zeal praised cclviii.

Shurley;
Mistress of Novices at St. Monica's, Louvain cxcvi.

Silisdon, Henry, S.J.;
Rector at Louvain cxcv,
Master of Novices at Liége cc, ccv,
his opinion of Fr. Gerard's talent for government ccii.

Silvester, Novice S.J.; cci.

Singleton, Dr.; cciv.

Sion House; Nuns of xxx.

Smith, Anthony;
affidavit respecting Fr. Gerard ccxlvii.

Smith, William, Bishop of Chalcedon;
Fr. Fitzherbert's letter to cclxii,
Fr. Gerard's letter to ccxxxviii, ccxlvi.

Southwell, Robert, S.J.; xxiv,
his journeys with Fr. Gerard xxiii,
his instructions xxv,
surprised at Mass xxxix,
lived with Countess of Arundel lvii,
maligned by Young lxvii,
tortured by Topcliffe 18,
invoked by Fr. Gerard cxxiii,
his spiritual books 132,
date of his martyrdom 282, ccli,
betrayed by Anne Bellamy ccxiv, ccxvii,
on equivocation ccxiv, ccxviii.

Southworth, John;
Fr. Gerard's bailiff, xi.

Squire;
his treason 234, 249, xcv.

Standish;
Fr. Gerard's pseudonym taken by John Wiseman, S.J. xxx.

Stanhope, Sir Thomas;
his wife Father Gerard's aunt ccliii.

Stanley, Sir William; lxii,
his wife's death cxcviii,
calls Fr. Gerard cousin cxcix,
buys the Liége property cxcix,
his forces 236.

Stanley, Sir Thomas;
took part with Mary Queen of Scots 26.

Stanny, Thomas, S.J.; xl.

Starkie;
Fr. Gerard's pseudonym taken by Thomas Wiseman, S.J., xxx.

Staunton, see Gerard.

St. Germain, Marquis of; cclviii.

Stoke Pogis;
house at cxxxv,
searched cxlvi.

Stone, Marmaduke, S.J.;
Father Gerard's MS. received by ccxlix.

Strand;
Fr. Gerard's house near clxii, ccxxiii.

Strange, Thomas, S.J.;
tortured in the Tower clxxiv,
with Fr. Gerard clxxiv, ccxxix,
taken in Warwickshire clxxvii,
Mrs. Vaux asks his release clxxxii, 140.

Stratford, Arthur alias Shefford; xvii, ccliv.

Stratforde, John;
found in Mr. Wiseman's house xliv.
Stuart Papers at Rome ccxlix.

Suffield, William;
William Wiseman's man, xli, xliv.

Suffolk, Earl of, Lord Chamberlain;
marriage proposed between his daughter and Lord Vaux 137,
reads the letter 97,
searches the vaults 99,
examines Fr. Garnett, 173,
one of Father Garnett's judges 226.

Sutton, John; lxvi.

Sutton, William, S.J.;
Fr. Gerard's tutor xii.

Swetnam, Francis;
servant to Mrs. Vaux, examined cclvi.

Talbot, Sir George, of Grafton, alias Morton;
Fr. Gerard calls him cousin cxcix,
friend of Maximilian Duke of Bavaria cc,
well received by King James and Archbishop Abbot cc,
afterwards ninth Earl of Shrewsbury cc.

Talbot, Thomas, S.J.;
Novice Master at Louvain cxcv, cclix.

Tanfield, see Gerard.

Taylor, Jeremy;
quotation from, on equivocation ccxi.

Tesimond, Oswald alias Greenway alias Philip Beaumont, S.J.; ccxlviii,
Bates' evidence against 136, 211,
accused in Proclamation 143,
proposed for attainder 165,
named by Fr. Garnett 175,
cleared by Thomas Winter 220,
crossed the sea clxxxii,
his narrative cxxvi, ccxlviii, cclv.

Thomson alias Blackburn, Wm.;
martyr xv, lxxiii.

Thorpe, John, S.J.;
letter to Lord Arundell ccxlix,
letter to Father Stone ccli.

Tichburn, Thomas;
martyr, betrayed by Atkinson cxxx.

Tierney, Mark Anthony, Canon;
on the Communion of the conspirators ccxxiii,
on the date of a quoted letter ccxxv.

Titchborn, see Shelley.

Tomson, see Gerard.

Topcliffe, Richard;
examinations by lxi, lxxxii, lxxxiv,
imprisoned lxxxvi,
a prophet lxxxvi,
tortures Fr. Southwell 18,
describes Fr. Gerard clxxxvii.

Torture in the Tower;
manner of xcvii,
effects of cv, 189.

Tower;
Sir Thomas Stanley, Sir Thomas Gerard and Mr. Roulston in 26,
Sir Thomas Gerard in the second time x, 27,
Father Gerard removed to xc,
Fr. Henry Walpole's cell in xc,
torture in xcvii,
beasts in cxii,
Mass in cxv,
Fr. Gerard escapes from cxvii,
Fr. Garnett and Fr. Ouldcorne sent to 160,
Anne Vaux taken to 172,
Ralph Ashley and John Grissold tortured in 181,
Nicholas Owen killed by torture in 182.

Tregian, Thomas;
condemned for having an Agnus Dei 39.

Tresham, Francis;
his family 90,
out with Lord Essex 91,
joins the Plot 91,
suspected of betraying it 102,
taken. 112,
when dying retracts what he had said against Fr. Garnett 260,
when at Lord Vaux's cclvi.

Trumbol;
English Agent in Belgium cxcviii.

Tutbury Castle;
Mary Queen of Scots confined there x, ccliii, 26.

Tyrrel, Anthony;
in the Clink lxxxi.

Usher, Bishop of Armagh;
his opinion of Powder Plot ccxlviii.

Vaux, Anne; visits Mrs. Heywood cxxxviii,
returns to Lord Vaux's from a long journey 137,
her friendly offices to Father Garnett 167,
defended by him at his death 293,
deceived by the keeper 168,
taken to the Tower 172,
her confession 259.

Vaux, Edward Lord; cxxxi, 136,
marriage proposed with Earl of Suffolk's daughter 137,
has two houses three miles apart 138,
imprisoned clxxxv, cclv,
examined by Lord Salisbury 140.

Vaux, Elizabeth; cxxxi,
her courage before the Council clxxxii, 140,
imprisoned and found at Mass clxxxv.

Vaux, George;
marries Elizabeth Roper cxxxii,
at Hackney cxxxiv,
his mother cxxxv.

Vaux, Sir Ambrose; clxxiv.

Villa Mediana, Conde de;
Spanish Ambassador, cxciii, cclvii,
had Father Garnett's straw in his keeping 303.

Vitelleschi, Mutius, General S.J.;
sends to the Bishop of Chalcedon to clear Fr. Gerard cclxii.

Wade, Sir William;
Secretary to Privy Council lxxx,
examines Fr. Gerard xciii, ccxvi,
while under torture c,
professes to bring message from the Queen ci,
shows his knowledge of Fr. Garnett's house in Spital cxliii,
reviles Fr. Garnett 162,
brings him for trial 225,
takes Mr. Tresham's man 261.

Wales, Prince of; 63, 85, 91.

Walley, see Garnett.

Wallis, Richard and Wm.;
found in Mr. Wiseman's house xliv.

Walpole, Henry, S.J.;
martyr 18, xcv,
his cell in Tower xc,
invoked by Fr. Gerard cxxiii, his constancy 132.

Walpole, Michael, S.J.;
serves Fr. Gerard lxv,
reconciles a knight clxvi,
extract of a letter from ccxlv.

Walpole, Richard, S.J.;
at Valladolid, Vice-prefect of the English mission cxciv.

Walsyngham, Sir Francis;
his daughter marries Lord Dunkellin and is converted clix, clxi,
examines Br. Emerson ccliv.

Waltham, Great;
Northend in xxxi.

Watson's;
his treason hindered by Jesuits 73,
specially by Fr. Gerard 74,
and by Fr. Garnett 250,
he begs pardon of the Society at his death 132,
James' promises to him 214.

West;
a messenger between Priests ccliii.

Westmoreland;
no such of the Society 165.

Weston, William alias Edmunds, S.J.;
wears clerical dress in prison lxxxi, in Wisbech xxiv, 282,
his virtue 132.

Whitmore, Novice, S.J.; cci.

Whyneyard, Keeper of Wardrobe;
lets the vaults 99.

Whyte, Andrew, S.J.;
writes to Fr. Gerard for Green cxciii.

Wilkinson, John;
finds Father Garnett's straw 302.

Williams, see Ellis.

Williams; his treason 234, 249, xcv.

Williamson, Ralph;
found in Mr. Wiseman's house xliv.

Willis, Ralph;
goes to Lady Gerard's xxxv,
attends on Fr. Gerard xlii, xliii,
made Priest at Rome lxv.

Wilson;
author of English Martyrology ccxlix.

Wimbish;
Braddocks in, xxx.

Winchester Nuns; xxxvii.

Winifred's (St.) Well;
Fr. Garnett's journey 78, 240, 258, cclxii,
Fr. Ouldcorne cured 284.

Winsor, the Lord;
his armoury at Warwick 107.

Winter John;
tried in Westminster Hall 191,
sent to Worcester 266,
converts a felon in prison 271,
execution 276.

Winter, Robert;
his estate and marriage 70,
joins the Plot 71,
escapes for a time 110,
taken 112,
tried in Westminster Hall 191,
his death 216.

Winter, Thomas;
one of the first conspirators 53,
of Huddington 58,
his scholarship 58,
a friend of Catesby 59,
is sent to the Constable of Spain 61, 236, 251,
wounded and taken 109,
his confession ccxxiv, 112, 200, and passim,
taken to Westminster Hall for trial 191,
his death 220,
not at Lord Vaux's cclvi.

Wisbech;
prisoners at famished 79.

Wiseman, Anne;
a Nun of Sion xxx.

Wiseman, Anne;
a widow xlii.

Wiseman, Barbara;
Abbess of Sion xxxi.

Wiseman, Bridget;
an Augustinianess at Louvain xxxi,
crosses the sea xliv.

Wiseman, George;
of Upminster, Justice of Peace xlii.

Wiseman, Jane;
an Augustinianess at Louvain xxxi,
crosses the sea xliv.

Wiseman, Jane;
daughter of Sir Edmund Huddleston xxxi,
her character lxxviii.

Wiseman, Jane;
the widow xxx,
her house at Northend xxxi,
her pilgrimage to Wisbech xxxi,
condemned to peine forte et dure xxxii,
her house searched xli,
in the Gatehouse lxxxii,
confronted with Fr. Gerard lxxxii.

Wiseman, John, S.J.;
entered the Society in Rome and died there xxx,
pseudonym of Scudamore a Priest xliii.

Wiseman, Mary;
daughter of Anne, a recusant xlii.

Wiseman, Mary;
daughter of George, a recusant xlii.

Wiseman, Robert;
in the Clink xlii,
died in battle in Belgium xxxi.

Wiseman, Thomas, S.J.;
entered the Society in Rome and died at St. Omers xxx.

Wiseman, William;
his house, Braddocks, in Wimbish, xxx,
knighted xxxi,
his descendants cclv,
visits Lady Gerard xxxv,
his arrest xlvii,
his examination xlviii,
Braddocks searched lii,
his book written in prison lxxvii,
released for money, lives near the Clink, returns to Braddocks lxxviii.

Woodroff, Lady Elizabeth; xxxvi.

Woodward;
a Priest cxxviii.

Worcester, Earl of;
one of Fr. Garnett's judges 226.

Worsley;
a pursuivant xli.

Wright,
Christopher; enters the conspiracy 70,
entrusts money to Bates 210,
sent to Flanders 236,
shot 109.

Wright, John;
one of the first conspirators 53,
his early life 59,
shot 109,
taken to Westminster Hall for trial 191.

Yelverton, Sir Christopher;
his sister converted xxvi,
one of Fr. Garnett's judges 226.

Yorke;
his treason 234, 249.

Yorke, Sir John;
brief for his prosecution cclvii.

Young, Richard;
examines John Frank xl,
William Wiseman l,
Fr. Gerard lxi, lxvii,
Brother Emerson ccliv,
takes a bribe lxix,
forswears himself lxvii, ccxviii,
dies miserably lxxix.

Zuniga, Don Pedro de;
Flemish Ambassador clxxxiv, cxciii, cclvii,
Donna Maria de cxciv.

Footnotes