HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.








BY
WILLIAM HEPWORTH DIXON,
EDITOR OF THE "ATHENIEUM," AND AUTHOR OF "NEW AMERICA," "SPIRITUAL
WIVES," "THE HOLY LAND," ETC.
SECOND SERIES.
PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT  & CO.
1869.








PREFACE.
THIS volume contains the story of the AngloSpanish Conspiracy; a story which has not yet
been told, except in patches, and only then without
the connecting bands.
I have already noted these Studies as a work of
identification. Among other things now made out
in the Tower, may be named: the situation of our
early Court of King's Bench and Court of Common
Pleas,-the connection of St. Thomas of Canterbury with the Water Gate,-the lodgings of Lady
Jane Grey,-the crypt of Sir Thomas Wyat and
the Men of Kent,-the chamber of Archbishop
Cranmer, —the apartments of Bishop Leslie,-the
various towers in which Raleigh lodged,-the two
prisons of Lord Grey,-the dungeon of Guy Fawkes
and Father Fisher,-the locality of the conferences of Father Garnet with Father Oldcorne,the home of the Wizard Earl and the three Magi,
— the tower from which Seymour escaped,-the
(ix)




x                PREFA CE.
room in which Overbury was poisoned,-and the
lodgings in which the Earl and Countess of Somerset lived. The new facts will enter into a good
deal of our history and biography.
But the interest of this volume (it may be hoped)
is general rather than local; lying mainly in the
new lights under which recent research permits a
student to tell the great story of our national life.
In making these Studies-the occasional labor
of my pen for more than twenty years-I have received much help from Sir THOMAS D. HARDY,
Deputy-Keeper of the Public Records, and from
Lieut.-Colonel F. C. WHIMPER, Major of the Tower.
J. E. GARDNER, Esq., has opened to me his unrivaled Collection of Old Prints and Drawings; and
A. KINGSTON, Esq., has lent me his critical eye and
ready hand in reading and copying the State
Papers in Fetter Lane. I tender them my warmest
thanks.
6 ST. JAMES'S TERRACE,
Regent's Parkc.




CONTENTS.
CHAPTER                                              PAGE
I. THE ANGLO-SPANISH PLOT..... 13
II. FACTIONS AT COURT.....    20
III. LORD GREY OF WILTON..... 26
IV. OLD ENGLISH CATHOLICS....    32
V. THE ENGLISH JESUITS..... 37
VI. WHITE WEBBS......    42
VII. THE PRIESTS' PLOT...... 49
-VIII. WILTON COURT.....       57
IX. LAST OF A NOBLE LINE..... 66
X. POWDER-PLOT ROOM..            7 0
XI. GUY FAWKES.......77
XII. ORIGIN OF THE PLOT.....        84
XIII. VINEGAR HOUSE...... 93
XIV. CONSPIRACY AT LARGE.....   101
XV. THE JESUITS MOVE.. 1-08
XVI. IN LONDON...    -...   112
XVII. NOVEMBER, 1605.. 121
XVIII. HUNTED DOWN......   128
XIX. IN THE TOWER....... 136
XX. SEARCH FOR GARNET..'.      144
XXI. END OF THE ENGLISH JESUITS.      153
XXII. THE CATHOLIC LORDS.....   162
(xi)




xii                  CONTENTS.
CHAPTER                                            PAGE
XXIII. HARRY PERCY....... 169
XXIV. THE WIZARD EARL.                     174
XXV. A REAL ARABELLA PLOT..... 181
XXVI. WILLIAM SEYMOUR.....   188
XXVII. THE ESCAPE....... 194
XXVIII. PURSUIT......   201
XXIX. DEAD IN THE TOWER.. 206
XXX. LADY FRANCES HOWARD....   212
XXXI. ROBERT CARR.....                219
XXXII. THE POWDER POISONING....   227
XXXIII. THE END..... 235




HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
CHAPTER I.
THE ANGLO-SPANISH PLOT.
DURING the fourteen years through which Raleigh
wrote in the Bloody tower and lit his fires in the Garden
house, a line of prisoners, more or less closely linked
with his fortunes, passed into the Tower; some of them
to spend within these vaults a week of doubt and pain;
others to die in them a daily death for years; this man
to baffle his keeper anld slip his chain; that man to fret
out his soul against bolt and bar; while most of their
fellows in mishap were only too glad to escape from
damp and gloom, from wheel and cord, by way of either
the hangman's rope or the headsman's axe.
The first of these prisoners, in point of time, was
Thomas, Lord Grey of Wilton Castle, who lived ninle
years in the Brick tower on the northern wall. With
Grey came William Watson and William Clarke, two
Secular priests, the alleged companions of his crime.
These men were followed by Guy Fawkes and his
companions, who were thrown into the dungeons of
the Keep; by Fathers Garnet and Oldcorne, who were
lodged in the lower rooms of the Bloody tower; by
Father Fisher, who has left his name on a door-post
in the White tower; by the Earl of Northumberland,
SER. II.           2              ( 13 )




14        HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
"the Wizard. Earl," who lay in the Martin tower; by
Lady Arabella Stuart, who lived and died in the Belfiy
and the Lieutenant's house; by her husband, William
Seymour, who escaped from the Water gate; by the
Countess of Shrewsbury, who occupied the Queen's
lodgings; by Sir Thomas Overbury, who was poisoned
in the Bloody tower; and on the morrow of Raleigh's
liberation, by Lord and Lady Somerset, who lived and
quarreled in the Bloody tower and the Garden house.
All these prisoners may be called the Raleigh group.
The story of this group of prisoners is that of the
rise and fall of a great conspiracy, the Anglo-Spanish
Plot. This conspiracy endured through many years,
survived various chiefs, and put on divers shapes. It
had a foreign birth and a foreign end, though it was
conducted on the English soil by English hands. Conceived in the cabinet of King Philip, it was prepared
in the English Colleges of Douai and Valladolid, and
put into action in our London suburbs and our midland
shires. The men who began it were Jesuits and the
pupils of Jesuits; the men who continued it were Councilors and Peers; but whether the work was done by
Persons and Garnet, or by Cecil, Suffolk, and lNorthanipton, the purpose kept in view at Madrid was ever
the same-the subordination of our national life to
that of Spain.
While the Jesuits held the reins, the motive power
was religious zeal; when the Councilors held the reins,
the motive power was gold. Though trained in a foreign school, the Jesuits could only be persuaded to
serve the King of Spain so long as they felt that in
serving him they were doing their duty to God and
Holy Church. The Peers who succeeded to their office
as "Friends of Spain," allowed no such scruples to
stay their course. Having a country to sell, they made




THE ANGLO-SPzANISH PLOT.            15
their infamous bargains with the Spanish ambassador,
and built such palaces as those of Hatfield and Charing
Cross on the wages of their shame.
This Anglo-Spanish Plot was the mother of many
treasons.  The Essex rising, the Priests' Plot, the
Main and the Bye, the Seymour Escape, and the
Powder Poisoning, were but details springing from a
common source.
The chief of this plot for many years was Henry
Garnet, Prefect of the English Jesuits.
The Prefect, a square, bluff man, of middle age,
Imuch worn by care if not by drink, and looking ten
years older than he was, had a string of different
names. In Flanders he was known as Father Greene,
Father Whalley, and Father Roberts. In England he
passed under the priestly names of Father Garnet,
Father Darcy, and Father Walley, under the lay names
of Mr. Farmer and Mr. Mese. Ile had as many homes
as names; not to speak of the houses of his penitents
and pupils, which were to him as homes. He had a
house called White Webbs, in Enfield Chase; a lodging
in Thames Street, near Queenhithe; a secluded residence oil Wandsworth Common; an old manor at Erith,
which he used for the coming and going of his agents
by the Thames.
This man of many names and domiciles is said to
have kept a merry table. Ile was accused of a fondness for female society which ill became a priest, and
the name of Helen Brooksby was coupled with this
hint of frailty, even more than that of her sister Ann
Vaux. These hints of an undue fondness for wine
and women rest not on the words of his Protestant
enemies, but on those of his Catholic friends most of
all, on the words of his fellow-confessors.
It would be unfair to urge against Garnet all that




16         HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
was said of him, even by his fellows, after he had
played his game and lost his life; for the whole body
of the Secular clergy hated him as an upstart and intruder in their Church, while many of his brethren in
the Society, blessed with more patient tempers and
more moderate hopes, disliked his memory as that of a
man who had brought discredit on their craft. From
neither side had Garnet much in the way of mercy to
expect; a balance must be struck between the words
which were spoken and the facts which were proved.
The Prefect was a fine linguist, a subtle reasoner, a
good divine; but no one who knows the story of his
time will say that he lived a perfectly blameless life.
When a lad at Winchester school, he was flogged for
offenses which have no name; and the conditions under
which he resided as a grown man in Italian cloisters,
in Flemish camps, and in English country-houses, were
in high degree unfavorable to personal virtue. Most
of his days and nights were spent in evading spies, in
studying tricks and masks, in passing under false colors,
in conducting spurious business. One day he was a
rich merchant from the City, next day a poor soldier
from the wars; here a married man, there a single one;
now a tavern-ruffler, with rapier ready on his thigh;
anon a starving curate, full of ardor for his queen.
Each day was to him a fight for liberty and life. The
fate of his old companions weighed upon his mind.
Southwell had been hung. Weston still lingered in
the Clink-a daily warning that if he meant to live
and labor for his Church he must put on every disguise that natural craft and wide experience could suggest as a cover for what he was. Short of this nmasking,
he would fail at once. Yet while it would be harsh
to urge against Garnet that his changes of name and
dress were in themselves immoral, as tending to de



THE ANGLO-SPANISH PLOT.             17
ceive, it would be idle not to see that a life so spent
implies a vast deal of lying, and that lying, for whatever purpose it may be done, is utterly corrosive to
heart and soul. A saint could not live a daily lie.
That Father Garnet loved good wine and plenty of
it, we know from the highest source-himself. Claret
was his table-drink, and he liked to wind up his repast
with sack. Sometimes he drank so freely that his servants had to put him to bed. Now and then he got
drunk. But there is no reason to believe, with Bishop
Abbott, that he was a constant sot; the very life he led
being evidence against such a calumny. That he was
fond of female society, and indulged his weakness to
the point of public scandal, there can be no doubt.
The ladies living under his roof may have thought
themselves the Martha and Mary of a new reign of'
grace; but the Prefect knew that the world would not
judge their conduct in this pious vein. The world condemned them. The Church condemned them. In the
writings of the Secular priests, this weakness of the
Jesuit Prefect was denounced in terms which leave no
room for doubt as to what was meant.
The rival and destroyer of Father Garnet was his
successor as chief of the Anglo-Spanish Plot in the
second phase. This man was Lord Henry Howard,
better known as Earl of Northampton, the title which
he bore in the reign of James the First.
Northampton was the second son of Lord Surrey,
singer of the Songs and Sonnets, lover of the Fair
Geraldine. An Italian soothsayer promised the poet
that his child would pass through a youth of want and
trouble, a manhood of honor, an old age of wealth.
The noble poet may have smiled at such auguries for
a son of the ducal house of Howard; but these words
of the Italian wizard were called to mind when the poet
2*




18       IHER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
had fallen beneath the axe and his son was an outcast
and a beggar in a foreign land. A dark Greek fate
appeared to pursue Northampton's race; his father, the
poet, had perished on the block-his brother, Duke
Thomas, the lover of Mary, had perished on the block
-his nephew, Philip the Confessor, had died in the
Tower. A pauper in the land of his birth, an exile in
Italy and France, the future patron of learning was
unable to buy a new book, and the designer of Audley
End was forced to seek shelter in a barn. Is it strange
that miseries which few men could have borne at all,
should have unstrung in the poet's son a mind that
was quick and fertile, rather than great and strong?
lie had lived in Rome, where his life was gracious,
but not pure. In Rome he became a Catholic-a
Catholic of Italian rather than of English type. From
the Tiber he passed to the Arno, where he studied art
inlthe Pitti Palace and morals in the Piazza dei Siguori. In Florence he left behind him that best comnpanion and guide of genius, a loyal and manly heart;
fol ill the court of Cosmo de Medici he learned the art
of changillg sides with the time, of urging and denying
with the same soft speech, of seeming to be all things
to all men'; a Prelatist in the company of bishops, a
Reformer in that of Puritans, a Catholic in that of
priests, a Royalist in that of kings. With one lesson
learned fi'oni the Tower, corrected by a second lesson
learned from the Lateran, he lost his faith in creeds, in
councils, and in men. Religion, Country, Virtue, were
to him but words; words sounding in his ears like the
idle wind. Place, Power, and Money, he could understand; and after these things had been won, he could
taste the delights of pomp and rank. His taste was
fine and his learnling wide. IIe loved to build great
mansions, to buy file pictures, to store up costly jewels,




THE ANGLO-SPANISHI  PLOT.            19
to collect rare books. All these things cost large sums,
and money was to him a need, like his ldaily bread.
Bent on building up once more the fallen house of
Howard, he never paused to debate the means. Show
him a road that led to place, he took it; show him a
road that led to gold, he took it; never stopping to inquire if the path were such as an honest man could
take. The brother of a duke who had lost his title
and estates, how could Northampton afford to be an
honest man? A little was gained on the coming in of
James; he was made Earl of Northampton; his nephew
Thomas was made Earl of Suffolk; his grand-nephew,
the son of Philip, restored in blood, was created Earl
of Arundel and Surrey. But the family was poor, and
the ducal coronet of his race was lost.
Northampton, now growing old, and fretted by a
foul disease, was still stout in purpose and stanch in
brain. No sense of shame ever checked his tongue.
If a man could help him to get on, he was willing to
serve that man in ways which would have degraded
the vilest slave. While Cecil reigned, he pandered to
that sly and secret voluptuary by putting in his way
the Countess of Suffblk, his lovely and venal niece;
just as, some years later, lie encouraged her still more
beautiful and profligate daughter, Lady Essex, to violate her nuptial vows with Carr.
This hoary sinner, having a keen sense of the value
of virtue as an article of trade, kept a large assortment
of moralities on sale. No lord of the court could make
a finer speech. His maxims were always noble; his
words were always chaste. Ile never sold a niece for
money without boasting of his honor, and never hung
a priest without protesting his devotion to his Church.
The first part of this Anlglo-Spanish conspiracy ended
with the executions following on the Powder Plot; the




20         HER  MAJESTY'S TOWER.
second part, with the executions following on the Powder Poisoninrg.  Garnet, the master-spirit of' part the
first, was hung in St. Paul's Churchyard; Northamnpton, the master-spirit of part the second, escaped the
penalty of his crimes by dying on the eve of his arrest.
CHAPTER II.
FACTIONS AT COURT.
WHILE the Queen's ashes were yet warm at Richrond, a schism broke out in her council at Whitehall,
not only in words which pass, but in acts which live.
A part of her council was for making terms with the
Iing of Scots, now knowxn to be her heir; such terms
as their fathers had often made with uncrowned kings;
such terms as their sons had afterward to impose oil
William the Third. Lord Grey was one of those who
urged that Jamnes should be asked fi r pledges to respect
our English rights and to follow our English laws.
Sir John Fortescue supported the views of Grey; while
Cecil and the two Howards (soon to be known as the
Earls of Suffolk and Northampton) contended that all
such things could wait, that subjects must not make
conditions, and that the wisest course would be to trust
their King.
Cecil knew too well in what he placed his trust.
For three years past he had employed Lord tHenry in
a secret correspondence with the Scottish court, fromt
which lie had learned enough of Jarnes to see his drift
and gauge his strength. The Scottish prince, he found,




FACTIONS.AT COURT.               21
was bent on peace; peace with the Austrian Cardinal,
peace with the Spanish court, peace on every side and
on any terms; even though it might have to be the
" King of Hungary's peace."  This policy suited Cecil,
who felt that in case of war the public power would
pass away from clerks and secretaries into the hands
of warriors, such as Raleigh, Nottingham, and Grey.
The war party wished to shape the policy of James
so as to give him glory abroad and peace at home; a
government that should be a living force, a people who
should be content and free. The way to these ends,
they said, was to raise the siege of Ostend, to drive the
Jesuit missionaries out of London, to unite the English
people in defense of public liberty and public law.
The peace party wished to leave the question of policy
to the King; well knowing that he spoke of the Dutch
as rebels, that he wished the Cardinal success, and that,
in reference to the treaties which bound him to aid his
allies, he openly announced his intention not to be tied
by the contracts of a woman andi a fool.
Thus, in the gardens of Whitehall, on the day of the
Queen's death, before the King of Scots was yet proclaimed, two parties were in line; an English party,
having an English platform, on which stood Raleigh,
Fortescue, and Grey; a Spanish party, having a Spanish platform, on which stood Cecil and his friends.
The first party wanted liberty and war, and the cry of
their partisans in the streets was, "Down with the
Austrian! Ho for the Dutch!"  The second party
wanted peace and pluace; they had no public cry, for
they had no partisans in the street; but their purpose
was to become the " Friends of Spain."
These factions fell into a strife, which raged until
the King arrived at the Tower and made known his
wvill. James wanted money and quiet; neither of which




22        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
he could receive so longo as the guns were booming
over Dover Straits. Cecil promised him money and
quiet in return for place and power; blessings which
he persuaded James no other man could give. The
Kiing could not know, in that early time, that his Secretary of State would sell his secrets and his services for
Spanish gold; and, had he known the truth, lie might
only have chuckled in his sleeve, sworn a coarse oath,
and begged some portion of the spoil. Anyway, the
new King gave his confidence to that smooth and serpentine clerk, so that Cecil, in any war he might have
to wage against Grey and Raleigh, would have the
crown, the army, and the judges at his back.
The King came in without terms; in fact, these
terms were not made until the times of his son and of
his son's son.
People in the Strand and Cheape, who heard that
their young Prince was bent onl forsaking the Holy
War, could not believe it. How, they cried, betray
the Dutch! How could we betray them and not ourselves?  Was not the war of the Armada burning?
Had not Mountjoy just smitten the Spaniards at Kinsale? Was not Vere at Ostend? IHad we not thousands of troops in the Netherlands? Were not Flushing, Rammekins, and Briel in our power? WMere we
not bound by treaties?  Were we not fighting our
enemies on a friendly soil, in lieu of having to fight
them on our own?
Such was the view then taken by every one, except
the King's friends and those who'wished to be thought
his friends. So strong and wide was this popular feeling for the Dutch, that James could not help seeing
that to recall his troops from Ostcnd and Flushing
might be fatal to his peace, if not perilous to his
crown. The change must be wrought out step by




FACTIONS AT COURT.                23
step. Ere such a course could be safely taken, the
war must have lost its charm for the public mind, and
the fighting generals must have been tarnished by
some dubious charge. Could Vere be starved out of
Ostend?  Could Raleigh and Grey be compromised
with the partisans of war? The first was easy, the
second not so easy. Vere had only to be dropped; his
letters to be left unread, his prayers unnoticed, his
supplies unsent. A cold intelligence, working inl a
chamber at Whitehall, could count the very hours of
Vere. One day the height of human daring would be
reached. Brave hands would faint through famine,
stout hearts would fail in force, the city would fall
into the Austrian's power, and James could affect a
sorrow which he would not feel. But neither Grey
nor Raleigh could be ruined by leaving him alone. If
Grey was to be got out of Cecil's way, he must be
lodged in the Tower.
Nowr, Cecil was a perfect master in the art of snaring
men into suspicion; yet he could hardly have succeeded in so short a time in meshing his powerful
rivals, had he not been aided in his work by an unexpected group of spies. These spies were the Jesuit
missionaries whom Grey and his Puritan friends proposed to harry from the land.
For many years past, a few cautious Jesuits, under
their Prefect, Garnet; had been hiding in the country,
chiefly in the London suburbs and in the midland
shires; but on the Queen's death becoming  known
abroad, a larger body came over sea from Flanders
and Castile, to aid in promoting the peace with Spain.
In crossing the Straits, they knew they were breaking
the English law, since no member of their Order could
then reside on Enoglish soil; bult they reckoned, not without cause, on the Secretary of State being purposely




24        HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
blind to their cominog over, since their object was to
promote the King's most ardent wish. In Cecil these
Jesuits met their match. The men who moved the
Order were no strangers to him; some of them were
in his pay, still more of them were in his power. A
list of the fathers lay in his desk; a list giving their
true names and their false, with an account of the
houses in which they lodged, and of the persons who
helped them to come and go. He knew something
of Father Fisher, otherwise Percy, otherwise Fairfax,
who lived in Sir Everard Digby's house. He was acquainted with Father Oldcorne, the confessor of Mrs.
Abington of Hendlip Hall. Garnet was his neighbor,
and might almost be called his chum. Father Creswell
wrote to him from Valladolid, Father Persons from
iRome. By these and other means he held the threads
of their purpose in his grasp, and felt that should the
day for a tussle with the Order ever come, he would
be strong enough to drag them down.
The fathers were allowed to land and spread themselves throulgh the London suburbs and the country
districts; but they were not suffered to come and go
unwatched. The Secretary had his agents on the quay
of every port and the deck of every ship. The jovial
skipper who gave the fathers a passage in his bark,
and who seemed to them the pink of good fellows,
was his spy. The bland old priest, who welcomed
them on shore and gave them such wise counsels, was
in his pay. One band of Jesuits came over in the
Golden Lion, Francis Burnell commander. Fresh
from Antwerp, where the Austrian Cardinal and the
Spanish Infanta had been proclaimed King and Queen
of England, these fathers were hot with zeal, and, finding the skipper a man of their own mind, they were
free in talk about the King of Scots. They said the




FACTIONS AT COURT.                25
King was doomed, and talked of the speedy destruction of all his house. Before they were put on shore,
Captain Burnell had reported their words to one of
Cecil's spies in Harwich, who sent a copy of their
speeches to Whitehall.
The spy who watched the coming and going of
these fathers in Harwich was Francis Tilletson, a
priest.
A part of Cecil's craft in dealing with political
rivals, lay in the adroit advantage which he took of
the bitter feuds then raging in the ancient Church; so
as to gain from each party in that Church the means
of crushing the other, when a policy of repression happened to serve his turn. Blood ran so high between
sections of the Catholic clergy-between the Secular
priests and the Jesuit missionaries —that each was
ready to betray the other into his hands. Tilletson
was not more eager to denounce the Jesuits in HIarwich, than Garnet was to destroy the Seculars in London. Each rejoiced when his rival fell. If Jesuits and
Seculars were both opposed in theory to the crown, they
opposed it in a different spirit, and sought their ends
by a different path. Each had a purpose and a plot;
and the purpose dearest to each was to betray his
fellow-priest to the law.
From his neighbors of Enfield Chase, Cecil got the
clew to a wild, spent plot, in which two members of
the Secular priesthood, who had made themselves
hateful to the Fathers, were much concerned. The
plot had failed, the plotters had dispersed. Some ale
had been drunk in Carter Lane, a gang of rufflers
called the Damned Crew had been raised, and two or
three secret conferences had been held between persons of still higher rank; but the dream was past, and
the design would have been shrouded in a spy's report,
SER. II.            3




26        HER MAJESTY'S TOWESR.
and laid in the grave of all dead things, had not one of
the names, which incidentally occurred in the papers,
been that of Grey.
A  Priests' Plot-there was a name to strike the
public ear! A charge was wanted against Grey, the
Puritan peer, the enemy of Philip, the advocate of war.
Now, Grey was said to have given two or three private
meetings to Sir Griffin Markham, a notorious Papist,
and an agent for the priests. What more could men
like Cecil and Northampton ask?
CHAPTER III.
LORD GREY OF WILTON.
AMONG the young men of high rank who strove in
the later years of Gloriana's reign to make a true religion of their daily lives-to be at once brave soldiers,
faithful citizens, and pious sons-to live in the world,
yet also live to God,-and the roll of these high and
noble men was not a short one,-the most eminent for
his birth, his genius, and his misery was Thomas
Grey, the sixteenth baron of his line; in whom was to
expire, in a cell of that Water gate which Henry the
Third had built, the last male heir of a house which
that same Henry the Third had summoned to his side.
Grey was nursed under a mother's eye. Until he
was ten years old, he lived at WVhaddon Hall in Bucks,
the family seat, where he was taught to read the word
of God, as well as to ride and fence, to leap the barriers and to run the ring.  As he grew in size, the
playmate of a tiny sister, Bridget, and of a baby



LORD  GREY OF WILTON.               27
brother, who was taken from him at an early day, his
mother Sibyl saw with pride and love that he was
growing rich not only in the arts which adorn high
rank, but in that spiritual grace which she prized in
her son above all the accomplishments of earth. At
ten he was called a man and sent into the world. The
Greys had always been men of war, and a Grey of Wilton Castle could have no other home than a camp.
His chair was to be a saddle, his coat a corselet, his cap
a casque of steel. But Lady Grey was anxious that
her boy should be a faithful soldier of Jesus Christ, no
less than a stout defender of his Queen; and she lived
to see him all that she hoped he would become.
Grey was happy in both his parents. Arthur Grey,
his father, that renowned Lord Deputy of Ireland who
was the patron of Gascoyne and the friend of Spenser,
is known to lovers of great books as Artegal, the
Knight of Justice, in the Faery Queen; a princely
figure, noble as it is spotless; not more true to the
poetic art than to the human life.
In court and camp young Grey was ever at his father's
side, often in the thickest of bloody fields.
"  For Arthur's son
Held Arthur's spirit."
Once, when he was hardly twelve years old, in a sudden fight, some English horsemen giving way before
a swarm of kernes, the Lord Deputy, who had seen the
waving line, pricked up, the lad at his heels, and, shouting, "Grey and his heir for the Queen!" dashed in
among the foe and cut them through. That Irish camp
was a terrible school of arms; for a gang of reckless
devils, the sweepings of Italian bagnios and Spanish
jails, had been flung into Connaught, where they had
built a fortress, called the Fort Del Oro. Roaming




28       HIER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
through Galway and parts of Kerry, these gangs had
ravaged two counties before the Lord Deputy could
move against them; but when Artegal leaped to horse
it was to strike a blow that men should not be able to
forget. Never, since the Lion of Judah went forth to
battle, had a sterner spirit ruled a camp than he who
led the English force against Del Oro. Grey asked no
quarter, and he gave none. The fort was taken, and
the enemy destroyed.
It was in this action under Grey that Raleigh, then
a young captain, won his first red laurels in the field.
From this fierce school of war the boy was sent to
Oxford. Robert Marston, who wrote a life of Grey in
verse, declares that now
"Arms entered into league with arts;"
but the young soldier was too busy with his work to
stay over-long at college. Like his father, and like his
comrade Raleigh, he vowed his sword to the Good Old
Cause; and while he was yet in his teens he crossed
into the Low Countries, to finish his education in the
trench and field. The Dutch received him with open
arms; and in the front of every charge, his countrymen saw with pride the trail of his crimson plume.
Grey brought into the patriots' camp not only a soldier's sword, but a statesman's thought; not only a
dauntless eye, but a clear and resolute mind. He
knew not merely how to fight, but how to turn the
tide of battle to a righteous end. He saw what should
be done, and how it should be done. Nursed on the
passions which breathe in the Faery Queen, the legend
of his house, he loathed Grantorto with all his soul,
and spurned the Idol as he would have spurned the
nether fiend.
Loving his Queen and country as he loved his




LORD  GREY OF WIL TON.             29
mother and his sister Bridget, Grey was with the foremost in every enterprise by land and sea. IIe served
against the Irish rebels; he sailed on the Island Voyage; he fought on Nieuport sands.
On his return from camp to court, he found the Earl
of Essex, his old companion of the Island Voyage, commencing that evil course which was to bring him, in
a few mad months, to the Devereux tower and to St.
Peter's Church. Grey warned his friend, and heard
his warning received with gibes. Less vexed than
pained by his rebuff; he stood apart in silence, until he
saw that Essex was falling away from all his English
friends and taking hold of anll Anglo-Spanish crew;
giving up Bacon and Raleigh for the pupils of Father
Garnet,-for men like Monteagle, Father Wright, and
Captain Lea. Then he spake to the Earl once more.
But all was vain: the Earl having entered on a course
fiom which neither love nor fear could draw him back.
Grey told these faithless peers and tavern-plotters to
count him in future as a foe.
Lord Southampton, a young fellow like himself, but
weak and fitful, heard this warning with open scornl,
and put such words on Grey as a soldier could not
bear. Grey stopped him and beat him in the public
street. This quarrel of the young peers so stirred her
court, that the Queen had to send Lord Grey to the
Prince of Orange, who was lying in front of Grave,
until the storm passed by.
The mettle of the young man having now been
proved, he was courted by the chiefs of every side.
HIe joined the party of Raleigh, Nottingham, and Cecil,
against the Earl of Essex. Ie went over to Dublin in
command of a regiment of horse to watch the plotters,
anid when Essex swept back to London, Grey was
quickly in his front. When the Earl's folly maddened
3*




30        HER MAJESTY'S TOW ER.
into crime, the pious young soldier was commissioned
by the Queen as her General of the Horse.
Grey's heart was thrown into these courtly broils
only so far as they formed a part of that war which his
country had to wage against the King of Spain. Not
against Essex the courtier, not even against Essex the
politician, would he have drawn his sword. The foe
whom he smote in the guise of Essex was Grantorto;
the Earl, who had fought by his side, having gone over
to the enemy, making a companion of Robert Catesby
and a counselor of Father Wright. When the court
was purged of factions, Grey turned his eyes once more
toward the fields in which his country's battles were
being fought on a foreign soil. Most of all, he strained
his vision toward Ostend.
For in those last days of the Queen, a roar of guns
was booming above the Straits, which spoke to the
heart of England as no other crash of earth's artillery
could speak. An Austrian Cardinal, married to the
Infanta, Clara Isabel, "heiress of France and England," lay with a mighty host before Ostend, the last
rampart of the Reformed religion in Flanders; the lines
of which were held by a garrison of Dutch and English
troops, commanded by Sir Francis Vere.
Iying low in the sands, behind a wall of mud, with
narrow streets, stone houses, and a place of arms, Ostend was a fishing port and village of barely three thousand souls. The town itself was nothing; but this speck
of coast was strong in the dikes and sand-hills, in the
line of sea, and in the thews of a gallant race. The
folk were Protestant, eager to be free; and the people,
both in London and the Hague, were conscious that
the battle of their freedom was being fought, and might
haply be decided, in the trenches of Ostend.
The strength of Spain was planted before this village




L ORD GRE Y OF WIL TON.           31
in the sands, and month after month went by without
giving her the prize. Assaults were made with a vigor
which has rarely been seen in war, and never except in
a religious war. Yet the town stood out. A rash vow,
made by the Infanta, had been kept by her, but kept in
a fashion to become the by-word of every land. Looking over the low roofs and simple works, Clara Isabel,
on the day of her arrival, swore by her saints that she
would enter the place before she changed her chemise;
and that chemise had grown from white to yellow, and
from yellow to black, yet Isabel had not entered into
the place yet. The Cardinal Archduke's lines were
daily creeping closer to the town, and at length a front
of batteries built along the coast swept all the outlets
to the sea, and cut off succors from the Dutch and English fleets. One day, a whisper ran through the galleries
at Whitehall that the port of Ostend was closed, and
that news from the beleaguered city must be got by
roundabout and unsafe roads.
In this stress of evil., Grey undertook to force the
passage with a single ship, and show the troopers in
Ostend that they were not cut off. The ship was found
and the passage forced. A hundred cannon from the
sand-hills opened on his flag, but Grey shot into port,
unscathed by the Austrian fire, and, landing in the
town, amid the shouts and thanks of the besieged,
he brought to the brave defenders not only much needful succor, but the congratulations of his country and
his Queen.
Grey was not simply a man of war. Like his father,
he was a friend of poets; like his mother, he was a
friend of preachers. In his religious views he was a
pupil of Reynolds and Cartwright, and the strong party
of the Puritans looked upon him as a chief. Yet Grey
was the reverse of a bigot. Law and policy were as




32         HER MAJESTY'S  TOWER.
much his study as divinity and soldiership, and he is
known to have held some views on the civil power
going far beyond the science of his age. Young, noble,
rich, illustrious, what gifts might not fortune be supposed to hold in store for such a mail!
Some people thought the highest state of all was not
too high for one so gifted and so good. Shrewd wits
were heard to guess that Grey would wed the Lady
Arabella Stuart; ill which case he might be called, in
his partner's right, to ascend Elizabeth's throne.
No one who watched the young General of her
Majesty's Horse prancing past Charing Cross, in the
closing months of her reign, could-have dreamt that
his course was already run; that one short year would
find him a prisoner in the Tower; that a flagitious
charge, a splendid defense, a theatrical reprieve, a
lingeriing imprisonment, and an early death, were all
that remained on earth to that dashing peer, the heir
of so many glories, the object of so much love.
CHAPTER IV.
OLD ENGLISH CATHOLICS.
TILE plot in which Cecil was to entangle Grey was
not a conspiracy of worldly and wicked men, so much
as a fantastic dream on the part of two dull and excited
priests.
To see how this plot arose, to understand why the
Jesuits betrayed it, and to follow the chain which binds
it to the Powder plot, one should recall to mind the
exact relation in which the two chief sections of the




OLD ENGLISH  CA THOLICS.             33
Catholic clergy stood toward each other in the opening years of James the First. A few words will suffice.
When the great Queen had come to her crown, one
body, and only one body, calling themselves Catholic,
existed in her realm. During her reign a second body,
calling themselves Catholic, sprang into life. The first
were the English Catholics, the second were the Roman Catholics; and in the opening year of James's
reign these two sections stood, not simply apart, but
in hostile array.
To the first party belonged the thousands on thousands of families, in every shire, who had clung, through
good and evil, to the ancient rite. These families clung
to that rite because it was old and venerable, because
it was the rite of their fathers, because it was woven
into the texture of their social and moral life. These
people never thought of their Church as a thing apart
from their country. HIow could they have done so?
The English Church was just as old as the English
name. Their sires had been members of a free Church;
and they could boast, with cause, that in all their efforts
after freedom that Church had borne her part. " The
English Church shall be free," was the very first clause
set down in the charter won from John. To tell these
English families that their creed was a foreign creed,
to be kept by themi for the benefit of a foreign priest
and a foreign king, was to speak to them in an unknown tongue. They reverenced Rome, as the oldest
of Latin sees; but they thought of her as a sister, not
as a mistress; and, while they gave to Pope Clement
the highest honor, they denied his right to meddle in
their courts of law. Submitting to his will in spiritual
things, they refused his briefs and declined his authority in worldly things. Even as to church order
they had ways of their own which were not as the




34        HER MAJ ES TY'S TO WER.
Roman ways. They had their own feasts and vigils,
their own policy and method, which an Italian could
hardly understand, and in which he could have no
share. Their country was what Rome had once proudly
called her, an island of the saints. In one word, the
old English Church was to these stanch Catholics a
national. Church.
To the second party belonged the new men, few in
number and fierce in spirit, who had been drawn away
by Jesuits fiom the reformed English Church. They
were converts; converts of a recent date and a malignant type; accused of having gone over to the enemy
less from religious heat than from political passion, and
even from family pique. The times were apt to such
desertions from the Church. Apostasy was a protest,
a form of going into what is now  called "opposition."
When a man failed at court, like Philip IHoward, the
ready way to insult his sovereign was to change his
creed.  When a: man quarreled with his father, like
William Parker, the surest way to worry that father
was to send for a priest. When a man wasted his fortune, like Thomas Percy, the quickest way to escape
reproaches from his fiiends was to be seen attending
mass. From Robert Catesby down to Thomas Winter,
the motive for desertion seems in almost every case to
have been either personal or political discontent.
Each of these parties had their own priests,-the
first party being led by the Secular clergy, the second
party by the Jesuits.
The old English priests were for the most part
learned, tolerant, timid men, who gave their thoughts
to spiritual things, and wished to leave politics to Kings
and Queenls. Their duty lay in the care of souls.
Their hope was to live in peace, to say their office, to
watch their flocks, and leave the results of their patient




OLD ENGLISH CATHlOLICS.             35
toil in the hands of God. When the law left them
alone,-and, on the whole, they were wisely left alone,
-they were content. Striving to do good, in the belief
that what they taught and wrought was best for their
country, they paid scant heed to what was considered
the best for Spain.
On the other side, the Jesuits were men of the world,
with worldly purposes in viewv. They were the servants of Philip, whom he had sent into England to do
his work. That prince, having received them  into
Spain, having given them money and power, having
placed the colleges of Seville and Castile in their hands,
having espoused their quarrels ill Flanders and in
Ronle, had led them to see that his glory would be
their glory, and that in him they would find not only a
powerful master but an indulgent friend.
The old Catholics, a slow and sober folk, who tried
to keep their fingers out of fire, esteemed it no less a
sin to kill a King than to kill a Pope. The new
Catholics, hot of blood and bold of speech, contended
that a good cause might justify foul deeds, and that the
highest cause on earth was that which they professed,
-the cause of a single empire and a single Church.
No outward sign, no inward motive, separated the
English Catholics from their neighbors of the countryside. In all invasions, and in all threatened invasions,
they were prompt to march. Loving their native land
as other men loved it, they were stung to frenzy by
reports that a foreigner meant to profane their soil;
and, moving into line with the first, they struck the
foe, not caring to inquire under what flag he fought.
The best of the old Catholic peers and gentry were out
in the Armada year.
The new Catholics were strangers in the land.
While Lord Montagu, born a Catholic, was riding




36        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
down to Tilbury Fort, with his son, his grandson, and
his tenants in his wake, all armed to defend their country, Lord Arundel, the son of a Protestant duke, was
saying clandestine mass and uttering a traitor's prayer
ill the Beauchamp tower. English but in name, the
Jesuits had taught their lay disciples to accept a foreign
purpose and a foreign prince. Spain was to be their
country, and they were to seek her glory in a way
from which their neighbors would be likely to recoil,
not only with aversion, but with scorn. They were to
consider their native land as lost to God, their neighbors as the heirs of everlasting death. They were to
treat their prince as an outlaw, and to hold his judges
as accursed of Heaven. The converts were not suffered
to feel proud of their English birth, but rather to bow
their heads into the dust for shame. They were to
have no part in the common weal. "I am become a
stranger to my brethren," cried their oracle, Father
Persons, " an alien to the sons of my mother."  Spain
was to be their only country, Philip their only King.
These two bodies were of unequal force.
The English Catholics were half the population, if
they were not more. One-third of the peers, one-half
the country gentlemen, two-thirds of the hedgers and
ditchers, were Catholic. A change of faith is not to
be made in a year, not in a hundred years; in England
the change had been a work of time, and the work
was still going on. Among the county magistrates
every second man was still a Catholic. The Reformed
religion had its seat in the great towns; but even in
these great towns the opposite opinions were held in
strength.
The Roman Catholics were few in number, and
scattered through distant shires. It is doubtful whether
the Jesuits could at any time have rallied a thousand




THE ENGLISH JESUITS.              37
voices to support them against the ancient clergy of
their Church. The secret of the influence wielded by
Garnet and his helpers lay in the wonder and fear inspired by the great Order to which they belonged.
CHAPTER V.
THE ENGLISH JESUITS.
THE form in which the English branch of the Society of Jesus presented itself to a statesman's notice
was that of an Anglo-Spanish plot,-whether he judged
them by their personal bearing or by their public acts.
In all countries, the members of t]~is Order mixed
with the world, which they affected to despise and
studied how to rule. They were great in colleges,
greater still in courts. They made tools of women,
and dupes of men who were the slaves of women.
They affected to know strange secrets, to possess indefinite funds, to govern by inscrutable means. They
could change their names, their costumes, their nationalities, at will. A priest could wear a beard, a monk
could deny his shaven crown. They could put on plain
stuff, they could sparkle in satin and gold. In making
war on the powers of darkness, they had a right to
seize all weapons of war, to employ all arts of deception. Doing Heaven's will on earth, they were free
from all scruples which might impede their work.
But what was dubious in the conduct of Jesuits in
other lands was carried to the farthest reach by the
English branch. Claudius Aquaviva had no disciples
so unruly as his English pupils. All Jesuits were inSER. II.           4




38        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
dined by habit to subject the interests of religion to
those of politics; the English brethren made that subjection unconditional and complete. As men of the
world, they took the extremest views of what is permitted; classing conspiracy with love and war, in
which everything is said to be fair. They justified
treachery; theyjustified rebellion; theyjustified public
murder. In the schools which their patron, Philip of
Spain, had caused to be placed under their control,
they bound their pupils by an oath to go back when
their course was finished to their native land, and
strive by fair means tnd by foul to win it for the
Church of Rome and the King of Spain. Inured to
danger, these pupils of the Jesuits crossed the sea,
prepared in mind for trouble, and wearing in their
fancies the martyr's crown. But they were taught to
make the best of a good cause, and not to throw away
their lives. Provided with masks and money, served
by their own agents, fed by their own converts, they
were able to preach and teach with but little risk.
They had means for landing in the ports, for evading
spies, for slipping through the nets of justice. Living
in what they called "a strange land," they mapped off
the country in shires and hundreds, and on these small
charts they marked each lonely beach on which a boat
was kept, each country-house in which they had a
secret room. A Jesuit's business being to go about
the world unseen, he had a dozen garbs, a dozen professions, and a dozen names. He had the jargon of
many arts and the patter of many tongues. A confessor of women, he learned from them the secrets
which he turned against their lords, and through these
secrets he could sometimes reach at persons whom he
dared not openly address.
This permanent conspiracy on the English soil in




THE ENGLISH JESUITS.              39
favor of a foreign prince was offensive not only to the
old Catholics, who wished to live in peace, but to politicians like Cecil and Northampton, who meant to become the chiefs of a new Spanish party in the state.
For the moment, these politicians were willing to
use the Jesuits; but, even while using them, they
hoped to compromise and destroy them as a political
power.
The Jesuits had not been twenty-three years in
London; Persons, the first English Prefect, had not
been thirty years a Jesuit; so that the men whom
they had trained to act in this foreign spirit were'none
of them yet beyond middle age. Robert Persons and
Edmund Campion had come over sea in 1580,-come
over against the wishes of the English Catholics, since
they came in defiance of the law, and meaning to be
a cause of strife, " creating disturbances," as Persons
had frankly said, "in places where everything till that
time was tranquil." Being then at peace, the Catholics
wished to remain at peace; but this smooth state of
things, if good for the clergy and their flocks, had
been the reverse of good for Philip, who would gladly
have seen the Catholics driven mad with misery, in
order that his generals might count on finding a partisan under every roof. The Prefect had come over
with two sets of instructions, one of which he had
kept in reserve. He was to stir up lawless passions,
so as to sting the civil power into a severer course; and
he was to put down the native fasts, and substitute
those of the Italian Church.
When Persons returned to Rome, leaving Father
Weston with the rank of Prefect, he could boast of
having made converts of Sir Thomas Treshamn of Rushton Hall, Sir William Catesby of Lapworth, and their
sons Francis and Robert, then boys of a tender age.




40        HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
Campion, who stayed behind to carry on his work,
wrote a letter to the Privy Council, in which he said,
"....Be it known to you that we have made a league;
all the Jesuits in the world, whose succession and multitude must overreach the practices of England; for
bearing the curse that you shall lay upon us; and never
to despair of your recovery while we have a man left
to enjoy your Tyburns, or to be racked by your torments, or to be consumed within your prisons. Expenses are reckoned; the enterprise is begun. It is
of God; it cannot be resisted; so the faith was founded;
so it must be restored." This challenge was answered
by a stricter law. Father Weston was locked in the
Clink Prison, in spite of Lady Arundel's tears and
gold; and the luckless Jesuit who defied his country
was flung into the Tower, convicted of high treason,
and put to death.
Robert Southwell and Henry Garnet were sent from
Rome by Persons, to fill the dangerous posts. Southwell took up Weston's place in Lady Arundel's household, while Garnet became Prefect of the English mission. Even the poet showed that in his foreign schools
he had lost the human and tender sense of home. " We
have sung the Canticles in a strange land," he wrote;
and that' "strange land" was the country of his birth!
In due time he followed Campion to the Tower, and,
after three years of waiting, was tried and hung; leaving his more cautious and unscrupulous friend, the new
Prefect, to continue and complete his task.
Philip found no trustier servants than these English
priests, who spread themselves not only over England,
but over Europe, in order to do his will. They stood
by the side of Kings, and the ministers and mistresses
of Kings. Robert Persons was near the Pope; Joseph
Creswell was in Madrid, the Spanish capital; Henry




THE ENGLISH JESUITS.             41
Fludd in Lisbon, then the principal Spanish port.
William Baldwin followed Spinola's banner on the
Rhine. John Jones lived at Douai. Hugh Owen, the
most active and most unscrupulous of these fathers,
was in the Cardinal's camp. One of Father Owen's
closest friends was Sir'William Stanley; one of his
nearest followers was Guy Fawkes.
A crime of the rarest kind and the darkest dye had
covered the name of Sir William  Stanley with an
odium which has hardly any mate. This knight had
given up the city of Deventer to the enemy, while
commanding an English and native garrison in his
sovereign's name. The Jesuits owned his work, praising
him for doing what he felt to be right, in face of the
adverse verdicts of the world. A medal, commemorative of his treason, was struck in Rome. The rage
and shame with which the news of this treachery was
received in England cannot be expressed in words.
Men said it was the Jesuits' doing; and when they
afterward spoke of Jesuit morals, they mentioned the
betrayal of Deventer as one of those facts from which
there is no appeal.
A soldier hated and reviled as Stanley was drew all
the desperate spirits who left their country to his side,
and a regiment of English renegades was formed by
him in the Cardinal's camp, which he fondly hoped to
have a chance of one day leading against his Queen.
Garnet fixed his quarters near London, so as to be
within easy reach of his lay supporters, and able to
direct the many coadjutors who came over from Spain
and Flanders to help in putting England beneath the
yoke.
The chief of these helpers were Father Fisher, Fatlher Gerard, and Father Greenway, whom he sent into
the midland shires, with orders to attach themselves
4*




42        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
to ardent women and discontented men. They were
to treat the country as a missionary land, to regard
their Church as a missionary Church. England being
lost to the faith of Christ, their business was to convert it back,-that portion of it which claimed to be
Catholic, no less than that which avowed itself Reformed. All were gone astray from Rome, they said,
and all must be brought into the fold, out of which
there was no salvation from death and hell.
The head-quarters of this conspiracy were planted in
Enfield Chase.
CHAPTER VI.
WHITE WEBBS.
ON the edge of Enfield Chase, about ten miles from
Paul's Cross, stood-in the days of James the Firsta large and lonely house of the Tudor sort; a house in
a narrow lane, so screened by trees that a few paces
off it could be hardly seen. It had many rooms, a big
garden, and a high fence. The place was a maze of
ins and outs, with passages by which visitors might
come and go, with traps in the oaken floors, and secret
chambers in the chimney-stacks and dividing-walls.
Deep vaults lay below, while a conduit led to the dams
and waters of the Lea. This house was called White
Webbs, and from its situation and its size it might
have been built as a hiding-place for priests and a rendezvous for plots.
Like the whole of Enfield Chase, White Webbs belonged to the Crown. Some thirty years before that
time the Queen had granted it to Robert Hewick, her




WHITE  WEBBS.                 43
physician-in-ordinary; and this Robert Hewick had
afterward let it to Rowland Watson, Clerk of the
Crown, whose wife still held it on a lease.
One day-about the time when Essex was beginning
to court the foreign Catholics, to consort with Catesby
and Tresham, to consult with Father Wright-a man
of middle age, thick-set, with rather jovial manner,
came to see the place. He gave the name of Mese,
the address of Berks. He wore a coat of fustian stuff,
and looked like a grazier of the better class. He had
a sister, he said,-one Mrs. Perkins, a lady of good
means, who wanted to hire a house near London, where
she could live in quiet, yet see her friends from town.
The Queen's physician saw no reason to suspect his
guest; and, when the terms were settled between them,
Mr. Mese became the tenant of White Webbs.
Robert Skinner, who passed for Mrs. Perkins's butler, took possession and prepared the rooms, putting
James Johnson, a servant whom he hired, in charge
of this house, while he rode over to Enfield, and engaged one Lewis, a carrier, to go with his team to
London and fetch in goods. One room was set apart
as a chapel; all the things necessary in performing
mass were bought; and the chambers were furnished
with books and relics as well as with household stuff.
Three months elapsed before Mrs. Perkins came.
She was a lady in the prime of life, and seemingly of
ample means. Skinner and his wife waited on her; but
she had other servants, both male and female, in her
train, including Will Shepherd, her coachman, and
Bess, that coachman's wife. In fact, the lady's establishment was framed on a large and costly scale.
She was a Catholic, and her people were also Catholic.
Mr. Mese, of Berkshire, followed his sister to White




44         ItER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
Webbs, and, when he came, he brought his man-servant, a cunning fellow, who was known as Little John.
By-and-by, a Mr. Perkins came to White Webbs, —a
lean man, with a long face, brown hair, and yellow
beard. He had a serving-man with him, called George,
whose full name was George Chambers. In what relation Mr. Perkins stood to Mrs. Perkins no one seemed
to know. Skinner could have told, no doubt, but
Skinner never spoke. lie might be taken for her
husband, since he came to her very often, and stayed
with her very long. In fact, although he went away
on business from time to time, he never failed to come
back to White Webbs as to his proper home. Mr. Mese
also spent much of his time in the Chase, many gentlemen riding down from London to see him, some of
whom sat up late at night talking business in his room.
These strangers put up their horses, had beds prepared
for them, and sometimes stayed in the house for two
or three days; on which occasions much venison would
be sent for, and much claret drank.
Once, when Mr. Mese went away from White Webbs
on business, he came back in a new name. He was,now called Mr. Farmer, and the servants were told to
speak of him as such. Shortly afterward, these servants heard him addressed by some of his friends as
Father Walley; and then they knew, if they had not
previously suspected, that the homely personage in the
fustian coat was a priest. James Johnson, the hired
domestic, kept his eyes and ears open; and, after a
little waiting, he found reason to believe that his mistress was not what she seemed -was not named Perkins, was neither wife nor widow, but a single woman,
the daughter of a peer. But James was clever enough
to keep his secret and his place.
In no long time a second lady came to White Webbs,




WHITE  WEBBS.                45
and took up her abode there. She gave the name of
Mrs. Jennings, and the people about the house were
told that her husband was a merchant of the City, a
good deal away from home. Mrs. Jennings was said
to be a sister of " Mrs. Perkins," in which case she
would be a sister of "Mr. Mese." That a warm affection bound the lady and gentleman to each other, any
one might see. Now and then a small creature, with
a red beard and a bald pate, made his appearance at
White Webbs, who called himself Thomas Jennings
and claimed Mr. Mese's sister as his wife.
None of these people were what they seemed. The
homely man in fustian stuff' was Father Garnet, Prefect
of the English mission. The serving-man called Little
John was Nick Owen, a lay Jesuit, of singular skill in
devising places for concealment. "Mr. Perkins" was
Father Oldcorne; and his serving-man, George, was
also a lay Jesuit, in attendance on his chief. The two
ladies, passing under the names of Mrs. Perkins and
Mrs. Jennings, were Ann and Helen, daughters of
William, third Lord Vaux of Harrowden. Ann was a
single woman, Helen a wedded wife. " Mrs. Perkins"
had no other relation to " Mr. Perkins" than that of a
penitent to her priest. No ties of blood connected the
ladies with "Mr. Mese."  Helen was not Mrs. Jennings; nor was the small creature who called himself
Jennings a merchant from the City. The bald pate
belonged to Bartholomew Brooksby, a country gentleman of good estate and of little wit, who had given
himself body and soul to work out the Prefect's will.
He was allowed to pay most of the rent for White
Webbs.
Lord Vaux, the father of these two ladies, had been
a grievous sufferer for conscience' sake. No small part
of his life had been spent in jails, and no small part of




46        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
his fortune had been lost in fines. For more than two
years he had lodged in the Fleet prison, in company
with Sir Thomas Tresham, whose sister he married on
his first wife's death. He had seen his family broken
up, and the honors of his line renounced. For his eldest
son, Henry Vaux, had been persuaded by the Jesuits to
lay down his name and title, to assume the higher mission of the cross. This heir to a noble name and good
estate had thrown away all his worldly advantages to
enter a foreign cell and to die a monk. Nor was this
all that he had to bear. His second son, George Vaux,
now heir to his honors, had almost broken his heart
by marrying against his wish, and family strife had
embittered his later days. Lord Vaux outlived his
sons, he quarreled with his connections, and, when he
died, he left the honors of his house to a child not
seven years old, the son of a woman whom he could
not bear. Ann Vaux and Helen Brooksby were the
aunts to this young peer.
White Webbs was called a seraglio; a child was
born there, —Helen Brooksby's child; and when Sir
Edward Coke got the papers into his hands, he made
coarse allusion to the paternity of this child. Garnet
confessed that he was the christener; Coke demanded
to be told whether he was not the father. The baby
was said to have a bald head; Coke requested to know
whether it had not a "shaven crown." From  these
impertinences it is easier to defend the Prefect than
from the accusations of Father Floyd. Griffith Floyd,
a Jesuit agent, was sent to England by his superiors to
inquire into the life which Garnet had been leading at
White Webbs, especially as to his love of dainty food,
and his alleged familiarities with Mistress Ann. lie
told his masters that he had "found too much." The
words are somewhat vague; they were meant to dam



TWHITE  WEBBS.               47
age Garnet; but we must not follow them from what
they describe to what they merely hint.  No proof
exists of an immoral intimacy. If Garnet felt a love
for either Ann Vaux or Helen Brooksby beyond what
is allowed to a priest for every soul committed to his
care, he never put that love into written words. But,
while he may be acquitted of criminal passion for his
fair penitents, he must be held responsible for all the
scandals piled upon their names. He led them into a
false position, and he kept them in that false position
before the world. They were not nuns. They had
taken no vows. They lay under no female rule. One
of them was a married woman. In living under the
same roof with two single men, in passing under false
names, in pretending to a near relationship of blood,
and in assuming a condition to which they had no
right, they laid themselves open to jests and sneers
fiom which they ought to have been saved by more
prudent friends. Garnet had not the grace to act a
more manly part. He loved the soft ways of these
high-born women, and rather than forego the pleasure
of their company he was willing to darken and blight
their fame.
To this lonely house in the royal demesne came
other Jesuits besides Oldcorne, other laymen besides
Bartholomew Brooksby. Father Fisher, Father Gerard, and Father Greenway were often there,-coming
in a score of varying names and garbs. Besides the
lay characters which they assumed, each Jesuit had
three or four priestly names, so as to be known to the
servants of different houses as different persons. Fisher
was called Father Percy in one place, Father Fairfax
in a second. Gerard was known as Father Standish,
Father Brooke, and Father Lee; Greenway, as Father
Greenwell, and Father Tesmond. All these emissaries




48        HER MAJ ESTY'S TOWER.
moved about the country, passing from house to house,
saying mass in secret, raking up the fires of discontent,
and keeping alive in their scholars the prospect of a
change.
Lay visitors came to the lonely house.
After the death of Essex on Tower Hill, the men
who were out with him in the streets, and were afterward pardoned by the Queen, came over to consult the
Jesuits as to what should be done. The first of these
lay visitors were Robert Catesby and a companion
whom he called Tom. Catesby was a young gentleman, tall, handsome, well bred, with a presence which
took the eye; his blood being gentle, and his bearing
that of a prince. Early converted from his Church,
early united to a Protestant wife, early left a widower
with an infant son, early engaged in treason to his
Queen, he had passed through many lives and was a
worn-out sage before he was thirty years old. The
companion whom he called Tom, and who addressed
him in reply as Sir, was a dumpy little fellow of middle
age; with person and manner exceedingly unlike those
of his handsome friend. They asked for Mr. Mese.
The dumpy fellow had just come back from Rome,
to which city he had been sent by the Fathers on a
secret errand; and, having conversed with persons at
the English college, he could explain to the company
at White Webbs the latest views of the political exiles
at the Roman court.
Other visitors came; not in crowds, but in twos and
threes, so as to pass unnoticed in the Chase. Catesby
was strict in his own coming and going; riding out
either alone or with his dumpy friend. As a rule, the
callers gave no names; they wanted Mr. Mese; and
they were shown by Skinner into Mr. Mese's room.




TEE PRIESTS' PLOT.              49
CHAPTER VII.
THE PRIESTS' PLOT.
THE men of his own Church whom Garnet, as chief
of the Anglo-Spanish party, had most cause to fear,
were two priests, William Watson and William Clarke,
who were loud supporters of the old Catholic party
against the new; writers of books on the Jesuits, and
warm denouncers of the foreign school.
Having taught their flocks the duty of defending the
soil, the freedom, and the sovereign of their native
land, these priests were scouted by Father Persons as
pedants and fools. To this attack Father Watson replied in a book called " Ten Quodlibetical Questions;"
from which title he got the droll nickname of "Quodlibets," by which he has ever since been known. Of a
good family, holding high office in the Church and
State,-a kinsman of that Thomas Watson who was
Queen Mary's Bishop of Lincoln,-he regarded the
new ideas preached by Persons and Garnet with the
contempt of a Catholic of ancient lineage and unswerving faith. How, he asked himself, could these
converts understand his Church? What had they done,
save vex the people and alarm the government? Loathing their creed, he felt no pity for the fate of Campion
and Southwell; and he told the Catholics of Europe,
in many a stinging phrase, that the Jesuits who were
hung in London suffered, not because they were servants of their Church, but because they were traitors
to their Queen. This view was the English view. In
SER. II.           5




50        HER MAJESTY'S TOW ER.
that luscious and ornate style which the clergy learned
from the poets, Father Watson denounced the ambition of King Garnet and the turbulence of Emperor
Persons, asserting that the angel faces, the flower of
England's youth, the beauty of' Britain's ocean, should
never be appalled-nor the vermilion blush of English
virgins, the modesty of married wives, and the matronhood of widows, put to shame-either by Spanish plots
or Spanish force. Persons replied to the Secular priest
in his "IManifestation," a book disfigured by much
bad English and much fierce invective; in which the
Jesuit, in place of covering the nakedness of his fellowpriests, accused them of living in a state of drunkenness
and uncleanness; nay, he went so far in vituperation
as to charge some of these reverend fathers with dicing,
and others with stealing pewter pots.
Father Clarke, a man of higher gifts than Watson,
answered this " Manifestation," in a "Reply " of some
reach and vigor; charging home upon the Jesuits,
whom he accused of a design to overthrow all liberty
of thought and action, even that of the Pope himself
It would have been well for the old Catholic clergy if
Father Clarke had been content with this victory of the
pen; but, unfortunately for many besides himself, he
conceived the idea of proving to Pope Clement that
the old English clergy were a match for these vaunting Jesuits in political craft no less than they were in
literary power.
His friend Watson, one of the few priests of their
party who had talked with James while he was yet
in Scotland, pledged his word that Catholics would be
favored by the King. For saying so much in public,
he was seized by Bancroft, Bishop of London; though
the prelate changed his mind and set his prisoner free.
When James came in, and day after day went by, and




THE PRIESTS' PLOT.              51
gave no sign, the priest began to think he had been
duped. On his asking for a fresh audience, the King
replied, "Since all the Protestants are for me, I have
no need for the Papists." Father Watson thought
the King mistaken in that view, the Catholic hosts
being like the summer stars for multitude; and he said
the King must be made aware of a fact which he did
not seem to know.
Taking Father Clarke into his councils, he found
they were of one mind as to the policy of proving, by
an open effort, how strong the Catholics were. Two
advantages would grow out of such a course: —(1) the
King would be frightened into doing right; and (2) the
Jesuits, who fancied themselves the only plotters in
the world, would be put to open shame. The second
of these results would seem to have been regarded by
the priests as much more precious than the first.
They meant the King no harm, except a little fright,
and their project was to be carried out in the blaze of
noon. A Catholic host was to be raised in London
and the nearer shires; they were to ride good horses,
to show their quality; they were to go forth and meet
their King. They were to break upon him like an
army in line of battle, to offer their petition of grievances, and, in a frenzy of loyal ardor, to sweep him to
the Tower. Surrounded in his palace by a court of
Catholic peers, he would be only too willing to dismiss
his Secretary, to dissolve his Council, to call new men
into office, and openly return to the Church in which
he had been baptized. The English Catholics would
form his guard, while the Jesuits would be routed from
the country as the enemies of God and man.
Such was the dream of these simple priests. But,
when they came to talk with their sober and conservative flock, they found that such a display of numbers




52        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
could not be made. Here and there some reckless
spirit might be tempted by the hope of plunder to join
their ranks; but the busy farmers and fearful citizens
were averse to public action of any sort. They wanted
to live in peace. They saw no reason to believe the
King was with them. They had much to lose by plots,
and were slavishly devoted to the maintenance of public law. Not yet reading the moral of their failure, the
two priests turned elsewhere for aid, and in these new
walks their feet began to slide.
Dining with Duke Humphrey in St. Paul's, rousing
in the taverns of Carter Lane, were hosts of stout fellows, who might be willing to mount a good horse on
the chance of getting a fat purse, not to speak of such
tempting baits as a place at court. One such fellow
was Sir Griffin Markham, of Beskwood Park, a knight
who had smelt powder in the Low-Country camps, but,
having lost his commission, was now dawdling away
his time between the confessional, the tavern, and the
stews. For the moment he was much excited against
Lord Rutland, the young kinsman of Essex, from
whom he had suffered some slight; and Father Watson, finding him in a sullen mood, suggested that the
nearest way to his revenge upon that proud young
spark was through the chances offered by this plot.
Markham snapped at the golden bait; but this broken
hero bargained for substantial favor; and before he
pledged his sword to Watson he stipulated that, on a
Catholic ministry being formed by the King, he was to
have the Secretary's place!
The next fellow to be gained was Anthony Copley,
a kinsman of Southwell. At fifteen years of age Copley had left England for Rome, where he accepted a
bed and platter in the Jesuits' college, with a pension
of ten crowns a year from the Pope. From Rome he




THE PRIESTS' PLOT.              53
passed into Flanders, where Father Owen obtained for
him a pension of twenty crowns friom the Prince of
Parma, in whose service he remained fighting against
his Queen, until he sickened of the Jesuits, when he
returned to London and procured a pardon from Burghley on expressing his eagerness for instruction in a
better creed. From that time he had been much
abused by Persons, though he had never ceased to be
a member of his Church. Hating the men at White
Webbs, Copley came into Watson's plans, on the
simple promise that those Jesuit intriguers were to be
put to open shame.
In his first confession Copley boasted that those
Jesuits were kept in ignorance of his plot; Watson
thought the same; but this impression was a great
mistake. A dozen members had not been told of
their purpose, before Garnet, jealous and amused, had
placed an agent at their board to learn their object and
betray them to the law. That agent was Brooksby,
whom Garnet set to watch the priests, while his wife
Helen remained in her false name and false character
beneath the Jesuit's roof:
The parts in this comedy of intrigue being cast, the
comedians met in a tavern behind Paul's Churchyard,
to wrangle, over pots of ale, about the strength of
parties in the court. High names were mentioned in
these pot-house meetings,-the names of Raleigh, Nottingham, Windsor; but no one spoke of intercourse
with these great persons, since no one in the room pretended to know them, except by sight. The scheme
for a great display of Catholic strength not only failed,
but failed at once; for not a single lay Catholic of name
and weight could be induced to join.
The comedy was played out, when Father Watson
one day met in the street George Brooke, a man of
5*




54        HER MAJ'ES TY'S TO WER.
birth, a brother of Lord Cobharn, a brother-in-law of
Cecil, having friends among those Puritan and patriotic gentry who were anxious to relieve Ostend.
Brooke knew Lord Grey. A disappointed man, ill
used by Cecil, Brooke lay open to the tempter's voice;
and as he listened to Father Watson's talk he fancied
that he saw some chance of crossing Cecil by this plan
of waylaying and frightening James, if only Grey and
some others could be got to help. Father Watson
begged him to see what could be done.
Calling at Grey's house, on the pretense of mourning with him over the ruin of God's cause in London
as well as on the Flemish coast, Brooke hinted that
James had been deceived by Cecil as to the facts of
public opinion, and asked whether it might not be
well for some gentlemen of birth to lay a humble
statement of the case before the King. Grey thought
it would be well. James was at Greenwich. Such a
statement, Brooke suggested, might be offered to the
King, as he rode from that place to Windsor Castle,but offered to him openly, in the light of noon, so that
all the world might see how many gentlemen of rank
and fortune held their views. For such a purpose,
Grey said he could muster a hundred gentlemen of
the best blood in England in a single day. Secure so
far, Brooke asked whether Grey saw any objection to
the old Catholic gentry, who had fought with them a
common battle against the Jesuits, offering a petition
of their own. Grey saw none.
A few days later, Brooke called on Grey.again,
bringing with him Markham, as one of those Catholic
gentlemen who wished to have their grievances made
known. These men had other plans, which they could
not explain to Grey. They hoped to change the government; in order to change the government they




THE PRIESTS' PLOT.              55
must seize the King; and they could only seize the
King by fighting with his guard. Alone, they could
not venture on such a fight. Could Grey and his
friends be tempted into offering them the chances of a
fray? If swords were drawn, no man could tell where
the broil might end. In a sudden tumult, every one
could strike for himself, and on a cry being raised of
"To the Tower!" the whole body of riders might be
swept along, in a panic of fear, under the guidance of
a few strong spirits who knew their minds. Could
Grey be tempted?
Brooke, who seemed as though he had only come
for instructions, asked the young general what must
be done in case the King's guard set on them. Grey
only smiled; the guard was not likely to attack a body
of gentlemen in holiday attire. Still, urged Brooke,
they might draw their swords in error and in panic.
Suppose they drew: must the gentlemen stand on
their defense? "No," answered Grey, at once; under
no alarm could he suffer his friends to draw on the
royal escort.
Such an answer left the dreamers without a hope;
but Watson, falling deeper into treason every hour,
thought otherwise. Ile saw his way, and felt his
ground. If Grey would raise his friends and meet
the /King, that fact should be enough. A new plan
could be built upon the old; for the priest could now
speak to his loyal and conservative flock in a voice
which they would understand.
Fired with his new purpose, he ran to the house of
Sir Edward Parham, a strict old Somersetshire Catholic, whose sword was keen as his wit was dull. " Quodlibets" told this gentleman, as a secret, that the new
King was more than half converted to their faith, that
many of his councilors heard mass, and that Pope




56        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
Clement enjoined his children to guard their prince.
Guard him from what? Then Watson whispered in
his ear the still more perilous secret that Lord Grey
and a gang of Puritan wretches were about to waylay
their Kinlg, to seize his royal person, and to separate
him from the devoted servants of his Church. Out of
pure affection he offered to Parham a golden chance.
If he could silently and swiftly raise his Catholic
friends,-who would promptly arm in such a cause,he might be able to win such favor and fortune as
Ramsay had won in Gowrie house; for when those
Puritan rascals pricked up in the Surrey lane, he could
rush upon them, rescue his prince from danger, and
carry him to his palace in the Tower. All that being
promptly done, they could then fall at his Majesty's
feet and ask him to do them religious justice. What
grace could the King refuse to men who had saved his
life?
Parham, burning to become a hero of the court like
Ramsay, pledged his help. Yet the plot was hardly
now complete. To give Parham his cue, there must
be some appearance of attack. How could a scuffle be
brought about?  Could Grey be induced to admit
Markham, Copley, and a few other Catholics in his
train? If so, all would be.well; for a kick of Copley's
horse might raise a dust, a snap of Markham's pistol
might raise a cry, the King would be sure to faint, the
guards would probably charge, and the Puritan gentry
might be trusted to draw their swords. Then, and
then only, would be Parham's time.
Markham went down with Brooke to Lord Grey's
house; but Grey would not listen to his prayer. If the
Catholics wished to speak, let them do so, he said,
another time in another place. Sir Griffin hinted that
the Catholic gentlemen might go to meet the King,




WIL TON COURT.               57
whether Grey approved their course or not. In that
case, Grey announced that he should not go at all.
The conference then broke up; and, seeing that for
the present no good was to be done at court, Grey
crossed the sea to Sluys, in the hope of either finding
his way into Ostend or doing some better service to
the Dutch.
This departure of Grey from London killed the
comedy and brought the curtain down. James rode
in peace from Greenwich to Windsor Castle; and then
the Jesuits, after hearing a full report from Brooksby
of what had been said and done by the plotters, sent
Father Barn eby, a creature whom they made their tool,
to the house of Richard Bancroft., Bishop of London,
to denounce the plot and to say where Copley might
be seized.
CHAPTER  VIII.
WILTON COURT.
A PLOT in the air,-a dream  in the cloister,- a
comedy in the tap-room,-a scheme which, dying in
the throes of birth, could have no public history,was no bad stuff for men like Cecil and Northampton
to recast and shape. The secrecy and folly were in
their favor. Grey had been consulted; and among
the names which had been bandied about in Carter
Lane was that of Raleigh. Striking for place and
power, the subtle minister and his hoary pander had
many motives, personal and political, for pushing their
advantage to the last. White Webbs would laugh at
the trouble of Watson and Clarke; the English college




58         HER MAJESTY'S  TOWER.
inl Rome rejoice over the ruin of Copley; the Cardinal
Archduke give thanks for the arrest of Grey. George
Brooke was the brother and heir of Cobllam; these
two lives were all that stood between William Cecil,
now Lord Cranborne, and a vast estate; and Cranborne
was already promised in marriage to Northampton's
niece. They put the case into the hands of Coke.
On Copley's first confession, Markham, Watson,
Clarke, and Brooke were thrown into the Tower. Parham the dupe, and Brooksby the spy, were lodged in
the Gate house, near Cecil's lodgings in Whitehall.
Barneby, the priestly informer, having nothing more
to tell, was hidden in the Clink. Not many days
elapsed before it was rumored at Paul's Cross that
Grey was in close arrest at Sluys, and not many more
went by before the young Puritan peer was brought in
a war-ship to the Tower.
Coke's brief against the prisoners was a work of
legal art. Out of Barneby's report and Copley's confession he wove an appearance of three plots, which he
proposed to callI. The. Spanish Treason.
II. The Surprising Treason.
III. The Priests' Treason.
For the trial of these conspiracies he proposed to have
separate courts, so as to give each trial its due importance in the public eye. In the Spanish Treason he indicted Count Aremberg, the Archduke's minister, together with Raleigh, Cobham, Grey, and Brooke, on a
charge of plotting to deprive the King, and to raise his
royal cousin, the Lady Arabella Stuart, to his throne.
In the Surprising Treason he indicted  Grey and
Brooke, on a charge of conspiring to waylay and surprise the King as he rode fromn Greenwich to Windsor
Castle. In the Priests' Treason he indicted Markham,




WIL TON COURT.                59
Copley, Parham, Watson, Clarke, and B3roolke, on a
charge of conspiring to change the government by
force. Much was withheld from Coke. Nothing was
said to him about the peace with Spain; but enough
was hinted to tell him that Brooke must die. Hence
the luckless uncle of Cecil's son was included as a
principal in every charge.
Cecil spoke, though in vague, suspicious phrase, of
the whole affair as the Arabella Plot, and his creature
Coke tried hard to include Lord Grey in a second
charge. It had been often bruited through the town
that Grey would marry the Lady Arabella; and if
Coke could show that Grey had ever entertained this
project, he could lay him open to proceedings under
the Royal Marriage Act. Cobham, who was said to
have recommended such a match, was questioned in
the Tower; but his examination ended without supplying evidence fit to be adduced in court.
While these prisoners lay in the Tower, awaiting
trial, Don Juan de Taxis, Conde de Villa Medina,
arrived from Spain. Don Juan's master wanted peace.
Peace was worth to him more than a hundred thousand
crowns a year, and this great sum of money his agent
was empowered to spend in corrupting James's court.
The wealth of two Indies flowed from the Ambassador's bounteous palm.  Gems, feathers, perfumies,
rained upon councilors' wives and on women who
were thought to be more charming than their wives.
In a month, Don Juan was the rage. Every one
courted him, every one swore by him. Fine ladies,
rustling in the silks of Seville and pale with the pearls
of Margarita, voted him the most perfect gallant they
had ever met. The Countess of Suflblk, as Cecil's
most confidential fiiend, was the prime object of Don
Juan's courtesies. The great house, then rising at




60        HER MAJES TY'S TO WER.
Charing Cross, was said, in reference to these gifts, to
be plated with King Philip's gold.
Much of Don Juan's money passed into Cecil's
pocket; for the minister knew the worth of peace to
Spain, and when he sold his country to a foreigner his
pride compelled him to sell her at a noble rate. Don
Juan could not dispute his terms. " Buy others cheap;
pay Cecil all he asks," was the substance, though not
the form, of Don Juan's daily message from Madrid.
Cecil named his price,-a king's ransom down in gold,
and a yearly pension to be paid for life.
Northanmpton and Suffolk also obtained the most
princely sums. When the terms of peace had been
settled, Coke received an order from the Council to
unmake his plots and cast his materials into other
shapes. The charge against Aremberg must be withdrawn, and the Spanish Treason must disappear.
Coke must have been deeply hurt, for the brief which
he had drawn was a triumph of legal art. When he
began afresh, he remembered Cecil's phrase of the Arabella plot, and he cast his confessions into a shape that
would support the theory of such a conspiracy. But,
as neither Copley nor the priests had mentioned this
lady's name, he was told even now, at the ninth hour,
to drop her name, and to divide the plot into two new
parts. When his brief was drawn, the plot consisted
of the Main and the Bye. Raleigh was in the Main,
Grey was in the Bye, Brooke was in both the Main
and the Bye. One was a conspiracy to raise Arabella
to the throne, the other was a conspiracy to change
the government by force.
For reasons which canll only now be guessed, the
name of Grey was dropped at the last moment from
the article charging Raleigh and Cobham with the
Arabella Treason. Brooksby, not being sent to the




WIL TON COURT.               61
Tower, expected to escape a trial; but unseen influences worked against the spy, who was carried down
to Winchester like the rest, leaving his fair young
wife at the Jesuits' lodgings at White Webbs.
The Kinog rode down to Wilton Court, to be near
the scene of trial; and in the quaint old house where
Mary Sydney lived, and under the solemn cedars that
her brother loved, gay pages fluttered and wily courtiers mused; while the hardier gentlemen of the
chamber leaped to horse and dashed into the neighboring town.
Popham and Coke made very short work with the
smaller fry of prisoners. A few hours sufficed for
them to bully and condemn Brooke, Watson, Copley,
Markham, and Clarke. Parham was spared. Brooksby,
though pleading that he joined the conspirators only
to betray them, was condemned to die. Clarke alone
showed genuine courage. Having played his game
and lost, his only trouble appeared to be that he, a
man of order and of letters, should leave behind him
a traitor's name.
Raleigh came up next; after Raleigh came up Cobham; and after Cobham, Grey. Grey was tried by
his peers, some of them his personal enemies,-one of
them that Lord Southampton whom he had beaten in
the public street. Dudley Carleton says that Southampton " was mute before his face," but spoke much
against him when the lords "retired to consult among
themselves." Lord Grey's defense was simple. If the
thought of presenting a petition was high treason, he
was guilty; if it were lawful, he was not guilty. To
the charge of conspiring with Brooke and Markham
to surprise the King, he offered his proud denial and
defied the proof. Only thrice had he seen these men,
and on the first suggestion of force being used he had
SER. II.           6




62        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
peremptorily declined all further talk with them. The
peers condemned him to die a traitor's death.
When asked if he had anything to urge why sentence of death should not be passed upon him, he
answered, " Nothing." The court was awed into deep,
pathetic silence. After a pause, he added, "Yet, a
word of Tacitus comes into my mind: —VNon eaderm
omnibus decora.  The house of Wilton have spent
many lives in their prince's service. Grey cannot beg
his life."
Raleigh himself never passed that height; and the
proud refusal of this young soldier of twenty-five to
ask a pardon from the King amazed and fascinated
Jam es.
When Brooke was fallen by the axe, and the two
priests were hung and quartered, the King made a
fidgety secret as to whether he would go on or pause.
Under the green trees and by the limpid streams of
Wilton House two parties were contending night and
day; the gentlemen who were fumbling the edge of
Don Juan's gold defending the verdicts passed and
clamroring for what they called traitors' blood; while
those who had kept their fingers free were crying out
against the sentence as infamous, the witnesses as perjured, the peers as corrupt. The ladies were on the
side of mercy; and all the prisoners were willing to
ask for mercy, excepting Grey.
Pembroke sent to London for the Globe comedians,
in order that the Teacher of his Age might help to
infuse some mirth and tenderness into the royal councils; and William Shakspeare's troop rode down to
Wilton on this gracious errand. One play was given
before the court; and there is reason to believe that
play was " Measure for Measure." The play was new;
composed that very fall, as the many allusions to events




WIL TON  CO UR T.              63
then passing prove,-to the plague, to the war, to the
expected peace, to the proclamation, to the revival of
obsolete laws, to the razing of a certain class of houses
in the suburbs. Such an expression as" Heaven grant
us its peace, but not the King of Hungary's!" might
have been heard in every street that summer; and the
characters of Angelo and the Duke are but highlycolored and flattering pictures of Cecil and the King.
The play may have been written for the Wilton stage.
That it was first produced before a courtly audience
is clear fiom the text; not only from the passage on
ladies' masks, but from the many allusions in it to
James's easy nature and his great dislike to crowds.
It may be safely gathered from the story of this play
that the noble lines,-," Not the King's crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Becomes them with one-half so good a grace
As mercy does I'"
were addressed from the stage of Wilton IHouse to
Jamres.
The King, who had no poetry in his soul to be touched
by noble phrases, caused the warrants to be drawn out
and passed under the Great Seal, for the execution of
Markhamn, Cobhamn, and Grey; and Tichborne, Governor of the Castle, received instructions to prepare a
scaffold in Castle yard, and strike off the conspirators'
heads on Friday morning before ten o'clock. The
Duke of Vienna could hardly have devised a vainer
plot.
Friday morning came, and the party of clemency
was in despair. The Wilton lawns were drenched
with rain; the air was chill and raw; yet thousands of
people swarmed from an early hour into the Saxon




64        HER JIAJES TY'S TOWER.
city, rolling over Castle Iill, choking up the city gates,
spotting every balcony and roof.with black,-yeomen
from the Sussex downs, gentry from the glebes and
parks, pages and courtiers from Wilton House, possibly
the Globe comedians, and the Globe poet himself.
James was to prove himself that day a greater comedian than any in that famous troop.
Sitting in his room at Wilton House, the King called
to his side a lad named John Gibbs, then raw from
Scotland, barely able to make himself understood in
English speech. The lad's face was unknown to Tichborne; that was the point of the King's joke,-the fact
out of which was to leap his great surprise. James
put a paper into his hand, and bade him ride over to
Winchester Castle, where he was to watch the proce edings until the axe was being raised to strike, when
he was to rush into the ring, draw Tichborne aside,
and show him the royal mandate. When the lad was
gone, the King remembered that in his haste he had
forgotten to sign his name. Riders flew after Gibbs,
and brought him back, and, the fault being mended,
the Scotch lad dashed over the downs to Winchester,
where he found the Castle yard crowded with Tichborne's men. These fellows pushed him back into
the crowd, deaf to his cries, impatient of his Scottish
twang; so that, while the headsman was getting ready,
Gibbs had to hang about the gate, fretting at the pikemen, and hoping that some one would arrive who
would know his face and understand his tale.
Markham was brought out first to die; and, after
saying a short prayer, he was bending his neck to the
stroke, when a quick cry from the crowd caught the
sheriff's ear. Gibbs had found Sir James Hay, who
cut a path for him to Tichborne's side. In a moment
the seal was broken, and Tichborne learned, under the




WIL TON COURT.               65
KIing-'s own hand, that the prisoners were to be putas it were-to the axe, but only in sport, and, when
they had been frightened to death, were to be told that
the King had been graciously pleased to spare their
lives. Having read these strange commands, the sheriff
told Markham to stand aside.
Grey came out next,-his footfall firm, his eye elate,
his expression proud and gentle; for he had supped as
well and slept as softly as he could have done at Whaddon Hall. A band of youthful nobles, few of them
younger, none of them nobler, than himself, marched
with him from his cell to the Castle yard. Gay in his
attire as though the block to which he was going were
a bridal board, his countenance bright with unearthly
joy, he passed through the kneeling lines,-the only
nian, perhaps, whose pulse beat calmly in all that
quivering throng. Dropping softly at the headsman's
feet, he poured out his soul in prayer; and, when he
had made his peace with God, he confessed his sins
in the face of man, admitting his many offenses, but
haughtily putting away from him the stain of crime.
The rain fell fast; but the crowd stood sadly in the
Castle yard. From his prison-window Raleigh was
looking on. Grey made his sign; for the pang of death
was past; and he laid his neck for the lifted steel.
Then Tichborne broke upon his peace. An error, said
the sheriff, had crept in on their proceedings; Cobham
must die first, and Grey must abide for an hour in
the hall.
When the ghastly comedy was played out, the three
prisoners were ranked in the Castle yard, face to face;
Tichborne read the King's letter of reprieve; and the
people threw up their caps and cried, "Well done!"
6*




66        HER MAJESTY'S TOTWER.
CHAPTER IX.
LAST OF A NOBLE LINE.
THE prisoners spared at Winchester were brought
in time to the Tower; but only the three great ones
were confined beyond the year. Within a few weeks
Copley and Brooksby were pardoned and restored
in blood. Markham was set free, on the sole condi:
tion of his going to live abroad; and 1Barneby was
paid his wages and sent away. Raleigh and Cobhaml
were left in the Tower, that Philip might be easy
in his mind, and that Cecil might receive the rents
firom a large estate.
On his first return to the Tower, Lord Grey was
miserably housed by the Lieutenant, Sir George HIarvey, a man suspected by the court, and eager to regain
the Secretary's good opinion. Grey complained to
Cecil, who still professed to wish him well, and who
was never harsh, like Northampton, beyond his need.
Cecil stood his friend so far; and on a hint from court
that, though Grey must be kept in safety, he need not
be kept in torment, Harvey remembered that he had
an empty room in the Brick tower, Sir George Carew's
official apartment, —a tower which had been Raleigh's
first prison, and was afterward to be his last. This
house stood on the northern wall, above the ditch. It
was high and cold. As Sir George Carew was never
in residence, the rooms were empty and unused; and
Harvey, fearing that Grey would still object, informed
his master that prisoners had been put into that
tower in Peyton's time. IIither, then, Lord Grey was




LA ST OF A NOBLE LINE.             67
brought; and in this gloomy tower he spent the next
nine years of his feverish life.
Eight pounds a week were allowed him out of his
great estate. He was suffered to write to his mother
and sister, and his servants were allowed in ordinary
times to wait upon him. But his condition changed
with the seasons and lieutenants. Generally his imprisonment was close and his treatment harsh. One
likes to know the effect of gloom and chains, of damp
and silence, on so proud a spirit. The old, old story
comes up again:-they broke his health; and when
they had ruined his health they easily broke his heart.
The man who could not be induced to beg for life was
worn into begging fretfully for such poor freedom as
the liberties of the Tower!
Yet there was nothing mean in Grey from first to
last. If his life in the Brick tower had not the beauty
of Raleigh's life in the Garden house, it had a nobleness all his own. In his younger days he had amused
his leisure by translating St. Cyprian's tract on" Patience," and when he found himself a prisoner in the
Tower he sent to his mother for his book, and asked
that his boy might come to him and read for him.
Cecil moved the King to grant him so much favor;
but the King was in no mood to comply. " I beseech
you," Grey wrote again, "to move the King for my
scholar, who will yield me much comfort." When the
request was granted, it was only on condition that the
reader should occupy the same room with his lord, and
should never leave it.
In his letters to his mother, Grey seemed more
anxious to remove any lurking seeds of suspicion about
his loyalty from her mind, than to engage her in efforts
for his worldly good. "Madaim," he writes, "be not
dismayed. I am in the Tower, but neither for thought




68        HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
nor deed against King and country." Again he writes
to her, " I fear not evil. My heart is fixed. I trust in
the Lord."
Grey found it hard to be patient in the Brick tower,
while Ostend was calling to him, as he thought, for
help. The peace with Spain was a sore trial to his
spirit, though he fancied that the terms of that peace
would allow him to take service in the patriotic army.
Markham had been suffered to serve under the Archduke, and he counted on the same indulgence in his
own relations with the Prince of Orange. Then came
the fall of Ostend.
While his old commander, Vere, remained in the
Low Countries, he hoped against hope; but when that
veteran was recalled by James, his big heart almost
burst with rage. " No one accident," he wrote to his
friend Winwood, a Puritan like himself, a partisan of
the Dutch like himiself, " hath so much grieved me as
this of Vere, that he should forsake the Low-Country
employment, when my misfortune hath made me so
unavailable."
There lay the core of his offense.  Grey longed to be
in the field, fighting against the enemies of his country
and his faith; and the courtiers at Whitehall were earning pensions by preventing men like himself from offering their swords to the insurgent Dutch. Like Raleigh, Grey was the prisoner of Spain.
Years dragged on; but, the pensions of Cecil and
Northampton being duly paid, the prisoner lay in his
lonely tower above the ditch.
At length the war itself wore out; the Dutch republic
wvas acknowledged; the twelve years' truce was signed;
and the cause of their savage watch on Grey was in
some degree removed.  Yet year on year went by
without a change. At length Northampton affected to




LAST OF A NOBLE LINE.              69
remember Grey. Ile went down to the Tower, and
saw his comrade of the court.  The prisoner asked
for leave to walk on the terrace under the Ordnance
house, for the benefit of his health; a liberty which
Sir Walter Raleigh and the Earl of Northumberland
then enjoyed, This indulgence was refused, but a
change was made in his lodgings, from the gloomy
Brick tower on the northern wall, to the cheery Water
gate on the Thames. Grey fancied that Northampton
had become his friend, after being for so many years
his foe. The Earl was never to be feared so much as
when he appeared to be doing good.
William Seymour (afterward Duke of Somerset) had
just escaped from the Water gate; and his wife, the
Lady Arabella, had been ordered to the Tower. Thus
the Lady who had been Grey's unwitting demon was
once more brought within his range; and, through the
treacherous courtesies of Northampton, the evil of his
younger time repeated itself in his desolate cell. The
royal lady lay in the Belfry and the Lieutenant's house;
their prisons were therefore near each other. One of
Arabella's women contrived to see Grey in the Water
gate, and his lordship was accused of sending lovemessages to the royal lady. Grey denied it, turning
the affair into an act of innocent flirting with her maid;
but the rumor served Northampton's purpose; for the
King became alarmed at what he supposed to be a new
intrigue; the chance of pardon for the lady vanished,
and Grey was ordered into close confinement in his
tower.
This rank injustice broke his spirit.
In this Water gate the last Lord Grey of Wilton
died, in the summer of 1614, eleven years after his first
arrest in Sluys; leaving a mother, who quickly followed her noble and gallant son, and a sister, from




70        HER  MAJESTY'S  TOWER.
whom descend the Grey-Egertons, now the sole representatives of Arthur and Sibyl Grey.
"Inexorable Death in this sole stroke
Had lopped the laurel and hewn down the oak."
Yet, brief as were his days in the Tower, Grey long
outlived the Jesuit schemer of White Webbs.
CIHAPTER X.
POWDER-PLOT ROOM.
ONE chamber in the Lieutenant's house has a life
apart from the rest; a chamber on the upper tier, built
on the old wall, with oaken panels, and a window opening on the Thames. In a house of no great size this
room looks large, and the window in it is high and
wide. No one could mistake it for a prisoner's cell;
yet this chamber on the old wall is almosf as famous
in English story as the Belfry and the Bloody tower.
The mantle-piece shows a royal bust; the wall is plated
with records firom a royal pen. Round the cornice are
the shields of some of our noblest families,-Howards,
Somersets, Cecils, Humes, and Blounts.  The bust,
though stained to look like bronze, is carved in wood;
while the panels are laden with much Latinity and
many historic lies.
The wooden head is that of James the First, the
lying record is that of the Powder Plot.
James used to speak of the Powder Plot as his
master-piece; a term which might be taken to hint
that the Iing had worked it out from his own fancy,




PO WDER-PLOT ROOM.              71
much as Cecil had worked out the Arabella Plot. But
this could not have been his meaning. James had
neither the wit to conceive, nor the steadiness to control, such a scheme of political vengeance. The plot
was an actual plot, with living agents and a settled
plan. Yet the dreamers who ascribe this plot, in
general terms, to the Catholic clergy and laity, go
further astray from fact than the dreamers who ascribe
it to King James.
The plot was not a Catholic plot.
This wild project of political murder was the work
of a few converts fiom the English Church, conducted
by a gang of outlaws and fatnatics, not only against the
conscience, but against the interest, of every Catholic
in the realm. The Pope condemned it. The Archpriest condemned it. All the Secular priests and all
their sober flocks condemned it. What these children
of St. Edward and St. Thomas had to do with the
Powder Plot, was to bear, during many reigns, under
protests which were seldom heard; the social odium
and political penalty of a crime which they abhorred.
Nor was this project properly a Jesuit crime. It
found some fiiends in the Order of Jesus, beyonld a
doubt; but these friends of the Powder Plot were of
no high standing in the body, and the society, as a
society, gave them no support. Not one, but many,
of the more eminent fathers fought against the scheme.
The General, Claudius Aquaviva, set his face against
the plotters, when he could only guess their purpose;
and when the details reached him, just as he was
entering on the festival of Christmas, the noble old
man xvas smitten to the heart.
Those who throw the blame on Catholics miss the
great moral of the crime.
The men who contrived, the men who prepared, the




72          HER MAJES TY'S TO WER.
men who sanctioned, this scheme of assassination were,
one and all, of Protestant birth. Father Persons was
Protestant born.  Father Owen and Father Garnet
were Protestants born. From  what is known of Winter's early life, it may be assumed that he was a Protestant.   Catesby and Wright had  been Protestant
boys. Guy Fawkes had been a Protestant, Percy had
been a Protestant. The minor persons were like their
chiefs, —apostates from their early faith, with the
moody weakness which is an apostate's inspiration
and his curse.  Tresham  was a convert-Monteagle
was a convert-Digby was a convert.  Thomas Morgan, Robert Kay, and Kit Wright were all converts.
The five gentlemen who dug the mine in Palace-yard
were all of English blood and of Protestant birth.
But they were converts and fanatics, observing no
law save that of their own passions; men of whom it
should be said, in justice to all religions, that they no
more disgraced the Church which they entered than
that which they had left.
The plot was the main clerical effort of that Spanish
conspiracy against English law which the converted
Jesuits had been trained to conduct; a political conflict in which these English Jesuits appealed to the
sword and perished by the sword.
The first panel on the wall, a pious prayer, pagan in
form, yet far from classical in style, sets forth the virtues and dignities of those who were to have suffered
in the explosion:
JACOBVS MAGNVS MAGNAE BRITANIC,
REX, PIETATE, JVSTITIA, PRVDENTIA, DOCTRINA, FORTITVDINE,
CLEMENTIA, CETERISQ. VIRTVTIBVS REGIIS CLARISS'; CHRISTIAN/E
FIDEI, SALVTIS PUBLICSE, PACIS VNIVERSALIS PROPVGNATOR, FAVTOR,
AVCTOR ACERRIMVS, AVGVSTISS', AVSPICATISS'.
ANNA REGINA FREDERICI 2. DANORV REGIS INVICTISS FILIA SERENISS'.
HENRICVS PRINCEPS, NATVRIE ORNAMENTIS, DOCTRINAE PR/ESIDIIS
GRATIIE MVNERIBVS, INSTRVCTISS'; NOBIS & NATVS &
A DEO DATVS.




POWDER-PLOT ROOM.                 73
CAROLVS DVX EBORACENSIS DIVINA AD OMNEM VIRTVTEM INDOLE.
ELIZABETHA VTRIVSQ. SOROR GERMANA, VTROQVE PARENTE,
DIGNISSIMA.
HOS, VELVT PVPILLAM OCVLI TENELLAM
PROVIDVS MVNI, PROCVL IMPIORVM
IMPETV ALARVM TVARVM INTREPIDOS
CONDE SVB VMBRA.
No one but James was likely to have penned this
invocation; in English thus:
"James the Great, King of Great Britain,
Illustrious for piety, justice, foresight, learning, hardihood, clemency, and the other regal virtues; champion
and patron of the Christian faith, of the public safety,
and of universal peace  author most subtle, most august, and most auspicious:
" Queen Ann, the most serene daughter of Frederick
the Second, invincible King of the Danes:
"Prince Henry, ornament of nature, strengthened
with learning, blest with grace, born and given to us
fiom God:
" Charles, Duke of York, divinely disposed to every
virtue:
"Elizabeth, full sister of both; most worthy of her
parents:
"Do Thou, all-seeing, protect these as the apple of
the eye, and guard them  without fear from  wicked
men beneath the shadow of Thy wings."
Then comes a list of Lords Commissioners, followed
by the chief panel of the series, in more pretentious
and much worse Latin than the first.  This panel, the
work of Sir William  Waad, contains the following
votive oftfering from  the King's Lieutenant of the
Toxver:
SER. II.              7




74          HIER MAJESTY'S TO TWER.
DEO OPT: MAX: TRIVNO, SUSPITATORI, &
TANT/E, TAM ATROCIS, TAMQ. INCREDIBILIS IN REGEM
LEMENTISS; IN REGINAM SERENISS': IN DIVINA INDOLIS & OPTIM/E SPEI PRINCIPEM, C/ETERAMQ, PROGENIEM REGIAM, ET IN OMNEM
OMNIUM ORDINEM, & NOBILITATIS ANTIQU/E, & FORTITUDINIS AVITE ET
PIETATIS CASTISSIM/Z, & JUSTITIIE SANCTISSIM/E FLOREM PR/ECIPVUM,
CONJURATIONIS EXEQUENDE_ NITROSI PULVERIS SVBJECTI INFLAMMATIONE, CHRISTIANAE VER/EQ. RELIGIONIS EXTINGVEND/E FVRIOSA LIBIDINE, ET REGNI STIRPITUS EVERTENDI NEFARIA CVPIDITATE, A JESUITIS
ROMANENSIBUS PERFID/E CATHOLIC/E & IMPIETATIS VIPERIN/E AVTORIBUS & ASSERTORIBUS, ALIISQ. EJUSDEM AMENTIAE SCELERISQ. PATRATORIBUS&SOCIIS SVSCEPT:E & IN IPSO PESTIS DEREPENT/E INFERENDAE
ARTICULO (SALUTIS ANNO + 1605 + MENSIS NOVEMBRIS DIEQUINTO)TAM
PR/ETER SPEM, QUAM SUPRA FIDEM MIRIFICE ET DIVINITUS DETECTAE
AVERRVNCO, ET VINDICI, GRATES QUANTAS ANIMI CAPERE POSSENT
MAXIMAS ET IMMORTALES. A NOBIS OMNIBUS, ET POSTERIS NOSTRIS
HABERE ET AGI GVLIELMUS WAADE MILES TVRRI A DOMINO REGE PRIEFECTUS, POSITO PERPETUO HOC MONUMENTO VOLVIT, DIE NONO
MENSIS OCTB. ANNO REGNI JACOBI PRIME SEXTO
ANO DNI 16o8.
In English thus:
"To  Almighty  God, the guardian, arrester, and
avenger,-who has punished this great and incredible
conspiracy against our most merciful lord the KIing,
our most serene lady the Queen, our divinely-disposed
Prince, and the rest of our royal house, and against all
persons of quality, our alcient nobility, our soldiers,
prelates, and judges; the authors and advocates of
which conspiracy, Romanized  Jesuits, of perfidious,
Catholic, and  serpent-like  ungodliness, with  others
equally criminal and insane, were moved by the furious
desire of destroying the true Christian religion, and by
the treasonous hope of overthrowring the kingdom, root
and branch; and which was suddenly, wonderfully, and
divinely detected, at the very moment when the ruin
was impending, on the fifth day of November, in the
year of grace, 1605,-William    WVaad, whom the King
has appointed his Lieutenant of the Tower, returns,
onl the ninth of October, in the sixth year of the reign
of James the First, 1608, his great and everlasting
tlhanks."
After this panel comes a third, containing a list of




POWDER-PLOT ROOM.               75
the conspirators' names, both clerical and lay, with
tags of pious verse and foolish appeals to gods and
men.
These panels on the wall record a series of noticeable scenes.
About the hour of noon, on a dark November day,
in the year 1605, a very high company came down from
Whitehall Palace to the Tower; men in whose sleepless eyes and troubled haste of speech a drama of
unusual tension might be read. Sir William Waad,
then new in office, met them by the gate; but the
greeting which these great ones deigned to give their
humble tool was scant. A small bent man, past middle
age, with shuffling gait and furtive eyes, passed in,
going quickly through the arch of that Bloody tower in
which Raleigh was then confined, and straight across
the Green to the new Lieutenant's house. The small
bent man and three gallant personages who followed
him had each a George upon his breast.
They met in this poor chamber on the wall to examine a prisoner then in the Tower, on a matter which
would cause the place in which they sat to be called in
all future times the Powder-Plot Room.
Who these persons were may be read on these
panels,-their names, their titles, and the offices they
held, —names which are familiar still, not by the
Thames only, but in every zone of the earth in which
our English speech is heard. In the chair sat Robert
Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, Secretary of State; and near
him were Charles Howard, Earl of Nottingham, Lord
High Admiral; Charles Blount, Earl of Devon, Lord
Lieutenant of Ireland; and Henry Howard, Earl of
Northampton, Lord Privy Seal. Is it too much to say
that, high as were the offices filled by these KIlnights
of the Garter, the men had higher claims to notice




76,       HER  MAJESTY'S TO WER.
than their official rank?  Cecil was a son of Lord
Burghley, a cousin of Sir Francis Bacon; Nottingham
disputed with Raleigh the foremost place at sea;
Mountjoy was hardly more renowned as the Pacificator
of Ireland than as the friend of Sydney and the lover
of Lady Rich; Northampton, the second and favorite
son of Surrey, was a scholar, a writer, a speaker of the
highest class.
Cecil laid before the lords a paper, drawn that very
day (Tuesday, November 6), and written from first to
last by the King's own pen. This paper, addressed to
the Lords Commissioners for the Plot, directed certain
peers and gentlemen, in quaint old Scottish phrase, to
question a prisoner then in the Tower, and to make
him tell the truth by gentle means, if gentle means
would serve; if not, by slinging him to the hook and
binding him on the rack.
The man to be examined had been seized on the
previous night, on the door-steps of a house in Parliament Place, under circumstances to excite the wildest
terror. Dragged by armed men to Whitehall, and
brought into the King's presence, he had been questioned by James himself, as to who he was and what
he meant to do; to which questions he had answered,
with reckless devilry, that he was a poor serving-man,
and that he meant to slay, by a sudden burst of powder,
laid in a vault beneath the throne, the King and Queen,
the young prince, the royal councilors and judges, with
the principal persons of the court. Pressed still more,
he had given his own name as John Johnson and his
master's name as Thomas Percy, one of the King's
Gentlemen Pensioners, a kinsman of' the great northern
Earl. Bandying jokes with the guard, this fellow had
shown a savage scorn of life which all-but fascinated
James.




GUY FA WKES.                 77
After he had left the presence, a letter had been
found in his clothes; a letter written in French, and
by a lady's pen. This letter, found upon him open,
was signed Elizabeth Vaux (the lady of Harrowden),
and was addressed to him as Guido Fawkes.
At a sign from Cecil, WVaad brought in his prisoner.
Some of the lords, not all, had seen that face before,seen it for an hour, under the glare of fitful lamps, in
the midst of scared, inquisitive eyes, when, roused friom
their beds, and hurried to Whitehall at midnight, they
had heard from the royal lips a tale, the like of which
courtiers have seldom been called to hear in the dead
of night from kings. They had seen the black brow
beetling over those fiery orbs, now sullen with rampant
rage, now rippling with low, fierce laughter, as the
King, seated on the edge of his bed, forced out in
gasps and screams his version of the powder and the
mine; and no1w, in the fog of a November noon, they
looked on that face again.
CIAPTER XI.
GUY FAWKES.
A MAN to study with a curious art was the stiff,
bronzed fellow, with sandy beard and fell of auburn
hair, now standing in this Tudor room, before judges
of such high fame and power, and answering these
lords of war and masters of law as lightly as though
the inquiry were some tavern jest; giving the false
name of Johnson, the false description of a serving



78        HER MA JES TY'S TO WEfR.
man; and only laughing roughly when they found
him out.
Tall, strongly built, and thirty-five years old, he
stood before them in the prime of all his powers. His
face was good, in some of its aspects fine. His tones
were those of gentle life; his words, though few, were
choice; and his bearing spoke of both the cloister and
the camp. Despite the grime upon. his hands, the
grime of coal and powder, he was evidently a man of
birth. Mountjoy could see that he had been a soldier;
Northampton found him an adept in the schools.
Even Cecil, who knew a good deal more about him
than he liked to say, was smitten by his jaunty air.
"He is no more dismayed," wrote the Secretary of
State, "than if he were taken for a poor robbery on
the highway." Not a dozen hours had yet passed by
since he was seized in Parliament Place; seized in the
very fact, with matches in his pocket, with a lantern
behind the door, and in such guise and manner as
made his conviction sure. All that could have happeined to cross his purpose and crush his spirit had
come to pass. His plans had failed, his friends were
scattered, his cause was lost. Behind him  lay the
wreck of a life; before him lowered the jail, the rack,
the gibbet, and the yelling crowd. All that he could
call his own on earth was a day of feverish pain, an
infamous and cruel death, a memory laden with a lasting curse. Yet the man was rock. The lords had
spent a sleepless night, and he had slumbered like a
child. They had been tossing on beds of down, while
he had been sleeping on a plait of straw. They had
sought for rest in vain under painted ceilings, and he
had been dreaming lightly in the darkest dungeon of
the Tower. The Lieutenant, coming early to his cell,
had found him sleeping " as a man void of trouble."




GUY FA WKES.                 79
Not that he was cold and strong; still less that he was
dark and subtle. The man was open, and even frank.
He told the truth so far as he meant to speak, at once.
When he told a lie he told it of fixed design, and
rather to screen some brother in misfortune than to
save himself. He was neither mercenary, nor inscrutable, nor heroic; he was simply a fanatic, with the
vices and virtues which belong to a fanatic. Like
nearly all fanatics, he was a convert to his faith, glowing with the zeal which sharpens a fakir's knife and
comforts a martyr at the stake. Fasting and observance had helped to drive him mad; until he felt,
like many of those familiars of the Holy Office whom
he had met in Antwerp and Madrid, that it was his
duty to kill men's bodies on the chance of saving
souls.
Cecil read the paper which he had received from
James, a warrant containing sixteen questions to be
put, with a power of compelling answers to these queries in case of need. This quaint old paper of instructions, which the lords must have had some sport in
spelling through, may be given in the King's own
form:
" This examinate wolde now be maid to ansoure to
formall interrogatours.
"1  as quhat he is, for I can neuer yett heare of ally
man that knowis him.
" 2 quhaire he uas borne,
" 3 quhat uaire his parents names,
" 4 quhat aage is he of,
" 5 quhaire he hath lined,
" 6 hou he hath liued and by quhat trade of lyfe,
" 7 hou he ressaued those woundes in his breste,
" 8 if he uas euer in seruice, uith any other before
percie, and quhat thay uaire, and hou long,




80         HER  MJIAJES TY'S TO WER.
" 9 hou came he in percies seruice, by quhat mleanes,
and at quhat tyme,
"10 quhat tyme uas this house hyred by his maister,
"11 and hou soone after the possessing of it did he
beginne to his deuillishe preparations,
"12 quhen and quhaire lernid he to speake frenshe,
"13 quhat gentle womans lettir it uas that uas
founde upon him,
" 14 and quhairfor doth she giue him an other name
in it then he giues to him self,
" 15 if he uas euer a papiste, and if so quho brocht
him up in it,
" 16 if other wayes, hou uas he conuertid, quhaire,
quhen, and by quhom, this course of his lyfe I ame the
more desyrouse to know, because I haue dyuers motiues leading me to suspecte that he hath remained
long beyonde the seas, and ather is a preiste, or hath
long seruid some preiste or fugitiue abroade, for I can
yett (as I saide in the beginning heirof) nmeite with no
man that knowis him, the letter found upon him giues
him another name, and those that best knowis his
meister can neuer remember to haue seene him in his
companie, quhair upon it shoulde seeme that he hath
belie reccomendit by some personnis to his maisters
service only for this use, quhairin only, he hath servid
him, and thairfore he uolde also be asked in quhat
company and shippe he went out of englande, and the
porte he shipped at, and the like questions wolde be
asked anent the forme of his returne, as for these tromperie waires found upon him, the signification and use
of euerie one of thaimne wolde be knowin, and quat I
have obseruid in thairn, the bearare will show you, nou
laste, ye remember of the crewallie uillanouse pasquil
that rayled upon me for the name of brittaine, if I remember richt it spake some thing of haruest and pro



GUY FAWKES.                  81
phecied my destruction about that tyme, ye maye thinke
of this, for it is like to be the laboure of suche a desperate fellow as this is, if he will not other wayes confesse, the gentler tortours are to be first usid unto him
et sic per gradus ad ima tenditur, and so god speede
youre goode worke.                 "JAMES R."
These questions were put by Cecil, and the prisoner's
answers were written down. His name was Johnson
-he was born in Netherdale-his father was called
Thomas, his mother Edith-he was thirty-six years old
-bhe had lived in Yorkshire, Cambridge, and elsewhere
-he had a farm of thirty pounds a year-his scars
came of a pleurisy-he had served no one but Percyhe had served him since Easter, 1604-his master had
hired the house about Midsummer-twelvemonth-at
Christmas last he had brought in the powder-he had
learnt French in England, but improved it abroadthe letter was from a gentlewoman in Flanders-she
called him Fawkes because he used to call himself so
-he was brought up a Catholic-he was not a convert.
Some of these replies were true; most of them were
false.
Next morning, Wednesday, a sharper board of inquisitors came down to the Tower, and sent for Fawkes
into the Powder-Plot Room. Northampton occupied
the chair, assisted by the Lord Chief Justice Popham
and Sir Edward Coke. If England had been raked
from end to end, the mates of these three men, in craft
of brain, in hardness of heart, could nowhere have
been found. Fawkes soon felt that it was one thing to
baffle soldiers like Nottingham and Mountjoy, another
to fence with lawyers like Popham and Coke.
Northampton pointed to the rack, and told the prisoner to speak the truth, or he would tear it from his
heart. To these new judges Fawkes confessed the




82         HER MIAJESTY'S TOWER.
facts, so far as they touched himself HIis Christian
name was Guy, his surname Fawkes. IIe was born in
York, where his father, Edward Fawkes, had lived;
but his father died about thirty years ago, leaving him
a small estate, which he had spent. He took service
with Percy under the name of Johnson, and by this
name he was known in Parliament Place. He had
sworn on the Primer never to betray his friends in the
plot-he had taken the sacrament with that oath.
Five was the original number, but five or six others
had come in since. He was now sorry for what he
had tried to do, since he saw that God would not suffer it to be done. He was not a priest. Ile could not
name his accomplices on account of his oath, and he
would not say where he had sworn that oath. All the
five plotters swore the same oath as himself: they swore
it a year and a half ago. Some speech had been held
almong them, that they would free the prisoners from
the Tower, that they would marry the King's daughter
to a Catholic, and that they would raise her to the
throne.
All these confessions made a good day's work, but
after Northampton had left the Tower, WVaad went
down into Fawkes's cell, and, finding him full of talk,
began to urge him, as he looked for grace, to set forth
all that he knewv of the plot fiom first to last; how the
design arose, who were the agents, and what they proposed to do when the King was dead. Fawkes seemed
touched in spirit; he had not yet been tortured; but
the rack was before his eyes; and unless he gave up
all his secrets the morrow would see him stretched.
Waad left him that night in the belief that he wTould
yield; but on his return to the cell next day a change
had come upon the prisoner's mood. Fawkes would
not speak, he would not write. Vexed at his stubborn




GUY FA IVKES.               83
spirit, the Lieutenant called his men, and bound his
prisoner to the rack. Fawkes may have thought that
he could bear the pain and not cry out; but after thirty
minutes of the cord and pulley, he gasped out faintly
that he would tell them all he knewv.
A first confession was taken down. The plot, he
said, was a religious plot; he heard of it first from an
English gentleman in Flanders; and he went on to
describe the mine, the powder, and the train. Later in
the day he made a more important statement. The
pain had quelled his courage, and the man who would
have faced a blazing mine could not resist the slow,
cold agony of the cord. On the rack he gasped out
names, addresses, details of many kinds. So much
matter being gained, the Lieutenant spoke with him
once more. Why not cleanse his bosom?  What had
the Jesuits been about? Who had given him the sacrament? Broken in nerve, the strong man yielded; but
he could not be persuaded to write his shame. If the
Earl of Salisbury would come to him, and come alone,
he would tell him everything which it concerned his
Majesty to learn. A messenger from Waad soon bore
this news to court, and almost as quickly as horses
could devour the road between the Strand and the
Tower, Cecil was closeted with Fawkes in the PowderPlot Ioom, listeningl to the first words fiom his lips
which could be used in open court against his neighbors of White Webbs.
When these words were written down, the prisoner
was asked to sign his name. He took up his pen, and
essayed to write, but the quivering flesh refused to
obey his will. " Guido," he wrote; the rest of his name
lie could not write. From that day forward silence on
his part was vain; others beside himself were in arrest,-some in the Tower, some in the Gate house,




84        IIER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
some in the Fleet; and then, in gasps and spasms, the
singular facts of the Powder Plot came out.
But the story told in these gasps and spasms may
be given with less waste of words, in a closer form,
than that of a prisoner's record on the rack.
CHAPTER  XI I.
ORIGIN OF THE PLOT.
THE dumpy man called Tom, who rode so often to
White Webbs with Mr. Catesby, was Thomas Winter,
a younger brother of Robert Winter, a small WVorcestershire squire. A shrewd fellow, who had seen the
world, both in courts and camps, this Tom could patter
in many tongues, and was familiar with many lands.
In his youth he had fought against the King of Spain;
but on falling under Jesuit influence he had given up
the cause of freedom and the profession of arms, to
spend his middle age in the secret service of Lord
Monteagle, whose pay he took and whose man he was
called.  Going hither and thither, from  London to
Brussels, from  Madrid to Rome, he had borne the
latest news firom Father Persons and Father Creswell
to their friends in Flanders and at White Webbs; and
generally he had earned his wages by promoting that
revolution which the Jesuits told his master would
shortly come about.
Catesby and Tom had tried their luck in a street
fight, with a royal favorite in their ranks, and, having
been crushed, condemned, and fined, were anxiously
seeking some safer way to upset their Queen. What




ORIGIN OF THE PLOT.             85
could they do? The people were against them. Even
the Catholics were against them. While the citizens
were loyal and the lords alert, rebellion was clearly a
waste of blood. What then? They came for counsel
to White Webbs.
"Mr. Mese" had strange news to tell them; for he
had just received from Rome, where Persons was then
the ruling spirit, two papal breves; one addressed to
the Archpriest, George Blackwell, and the Catholic
clergy, the other addressed to the nobility and commons, in which breves the children of Rome were
enjoined, on their salvation, to admit no prince except
such as the Pope should appoint to reign over them.
These breves were not to be published until the Queen
was dead; but Garnet showed them to Catesby, by
whom they were shown to Lord Monteagle and his
cousin Frank. Monteagle had a villa near Hoxton,
from which he could easily ride over to White Webbs;
and Catesby hired a house in the same suburbs, at
Moorcroft, under London Wall. These two gentlemen, seeing that such breves could never be enforced
without foreign help, agreed with Father Garnet that
two secret agents, one a Jesuit, the other a layman,
should proceed at once to Madrid, with orders to find
their way into the Duke de Lerma's cabinet, to assure
that minister of Catholic support, and to urge that a
Spanish army should be thrown upon these shores.
Father Greenway was chosen by the Jesuits, Tom
Winter by the laymen. Tom not only knew the country and spoke the language, but, as a deserter from his
flag, was sure of a welcome from the monks and mistresses who governed Spain.
These secret agents were well received. Giving
Lerma charts and maps of the English coast, they
SER. II.           8




86        HER  IMAJESTY'S TOWER.
pointed out Milford Haven as the point where it wolllId
be best to land, as the Welsh people were Catholic, and
a Spanish general, fortified in Pembroke, would have
the friendly Irish at his back. But Lerma, though
polite, was cold. The Queen was failing fast; a change
must come; and his policy was the waiting game. This
answer having been foreseen, Tom Winter had been
told to urge upon the Duke that nothing could be done
with James, and that the King of Scots must be cut
off; he and his progeny, root and branch, so as to open
a passage for the Infanta to come in under the Papal
breves. But Lerma, pursing his darksome brow, said
only that his friends must wait.
HIad he by any sign or shrug approved of Tom Winter's hint that James should be cut off'? We only
know that Torn returned through Flanders, where he
spread the latest news from Madrid, and that the policy
of cutting off the King of Scots was from that time
adopted in the cloister and in the camp. The very
first batch of Fathers who came over in the Golden
Lion talked openly of the King and all his house being
speedily cut off. A priest sent word to Cecil that the
duty of killing James was being canvassed in the
English colleges of Cleves and Douai, and that two
fanatics in holy orders had pledged their souls, if they
might have the blessing of Heaven upon their deed, to
cross the sea, gain access to his table, and stab him as
he sat at meat.
On the day Elizabeth died, Catesby went about the
town, watching events and eager for a sign; but in the
afternoon he rode over to White WVebbs, and told the
Prefect that the new King had been proclaimed, that
every one was pleased, that the City bells were ringing,
and the streets alive with bonfires.  When Garnet
heard this news, he took the Papal breves from his




ORIGIN  OF THE PLOT.            S7
desk, as things too dangerous to be kept, and threw
them on the fire.
In Rome another spirit ruled the hour. Persons
told the Pope that now was the time for his children
to strike a blow. The day for intrigue was past, the
day for action come. The Catholics, he cried, were
ready; they only waited for a sign; and at a word from
Rome a hundred thousand swords would flash into the
air. The King of Scots had forfeited his right, and
they must bar his entrance in the name of God and
Holy Church. The cry which Persons raised in Rome
was echoed by Owen in Brussels, by Garnet in Enfield
Chase. But the cry was not taken up, and the Jesuits
dared not commit themselves by a publication of the
breves. Opinion, too, veered round in the Roman
court, where Persons fell into suspicion; and, what was
worse for Garnet, Frank Tresham and Lord Mont -
eagle were inclined to act with Northampton in supporting James. A new course had to be fetched, and
Catesby, finding a friend in Ambrose Rokewood, a
young Suffolk squire, who had been trained in the
Jesuits' college at St. Omer, consulted Garnet and
Greenway on the policy of seeking in Madrid the support they could no longer find in Rome. Kit Wright,
a reckless fellow, who had been out in the streets with
Essex, and had narrowly escaped the rope, was chosen
to go over; and on his way to Madrid this agent of
disorder met Guy Fawkes, who was proceeding from
Brussels on the same black errand as himself.  As
Kit represented Garnet and Catesby, Guy represented
Owen and Stanley, in this common appeal from Rome
to Spain.
They met with no response; for Philip had neither
ships nor men to bury in the Irish seas; and Lerma,
who was countinlg his doubloons and conning his re



88        HER MAJES TY'S TO WER.
ports, imagined he could buy with gold from Cecil and
Northampton far more than he could gain by Garnet's
craft and Catesby's zeal.
Rebuffed on every side, the fanatics were in despair.
Without a friend in Rome, in London, in Madrid, what
could they do?
One course at least lay open. They could kill the
King. No foreign help was wanted to " cut off" James,
in what was then the commonest form of public assassination. They could blast him with powder, as an
engineer blows down a wall. Had not his father,
Darnley, been killed in this simple way? The thing
was not only easy to do, but safe to do. Darnley had
been killed in the Kirk of Field, and no one else had
suffered by the shock. That which could be done in
the Canongate could also be done in Parliament Place.
The House of Lords was larger than the Kirk of Field;
but what should prevent them from using a larger
blast? Bothwell had employed a dozen sacks of powder; why should not Catesby employ a hundred sacks?
Powder was cheap.
The idea was not new, still less could it be called
heroic. Every soldier had in those days helped to drive
a shaft, and thousands of men who were not soldiers
had heard the crash of exploding mines. The war then
raging beyond the Straits was a war of engineers; and
in the trenches before Ostend whole companies were
occasionally blown into the air. Among the visitors
at White Webbs, many had seen service in the field;
so that the power of cutting off an enemy by a charge
of powder was familiar to their minds.
A train had been laid against Farnese in the streets
of Antwerp; a second such train had been laid against
the Provincial Council at the Hague. Not once, but
many times, the great Queen's life had been threatened




ORIGIN OF THE PLOT.              89
by a powder-plot. One such attempt was made by
Michael Moody; and, in later times, Thomas Morgan,
a pupil of Father Owen, had offered to carry out the
scheme in which Moody failed.
If any one gave the main idea of the Powder scheme
to Catesby, that man was Morgan. There is proof
that Morgan told Hugh Owen of his plans, and that
Owen explained them to his creature Fawkes.
This Thomas Morgan, otherwise known as Charles
Thomas, a brother of Rowland Morgan, seminary
priest, and of Harry Morgan, Customer of Cardiff, was
one of those dangerous exiles on whom Cecil kept a
watchful eye. Himself a spy, his steps were always
dogged by spies; and many a merry fellow who roused
and drank with him in the Flemish wine-shops lived
on the wages of their common shame. A tool of the
Jesuits whom they hardly cared to own as friend, he
was employed by them in work to which few could
stoop,-in following frail women, in tempting soldiers
to desert, in watching base intrigues, and following to
their source the scandals of a camp. For such foul
things Morgan had a natural taste. He had spent his
days between the back-stairs of a palace and the black
hole in a jail, now playing the part of pimp, anon of
lover, and then of spy. After threatening Elizabeth's
life, he had blackened Farnese's name; on which the
great Italian soldier had flung him into prison, instead
of flinging him into the Scheldt. But rogues like
Morgan are not easily stamped out. He got away to
Spain, where he could show his teeth. One day we
find him at Porto Santa Maria, giving secret hints to
the Adelantado of Seville, on the way to surprise and
capture English ships; and shortly afterward in Madrid,
moving heaven and earth to get his contemptuous
8*




90        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
enemy recalled from those Netherlands which he had
saved for the Spanish crown.
The fellow had changed his field, but he had not
done with plots. He was now in Paris, in the pay of
Mademoiselle Catharine d'Entraigues, Marquise de
Verneuil, the King's mistress; deeply engaged in the
criminal intrigues which led to the arrest, and nearly
to the ruin, of that royal favorite.
Catesby had a lodging on the river-bank at Lambeth,
near Horse Ferry, as well as one in Moorcroft, under
the city wall. He was living in that village of boatmen
and fish-wives with Jack Wright, the elder brother of
Kit, a ruined North-Country squire, a great fencer, a
pupil of the Jesuits, and a pardoned rebel, whom he
housed and fed. The fine gentleman and his needy
follower walked by the river, brooding over plans for
"' cutting off" King James. Before them, across the
Tham6s, rose the majestic front of the House of Lords.
Within that pile stood the throne, on which the King
would have to sit when he came from Whitehall to
open his Parliament, surrounded by his wife, his son,
his councilors, and his peers. Would not a train of
powder, laid below that throne, destroy them all?
Wanting a fellow with more brains.than Jack Wright
by his side, Catesby wrote to Huddington, where Tomn
Winter was staying with his brother Robert, in a very
low state of' mind. When Tom came up to Lambeth,
Catesby explained his project. "This strake at the
root," said Winter, musing; "but what if they should
fail?" They could not fail, urged Catesby, if they got
a man who knew his trade to construct the mine. At
once hWe mentioned the name of Fawkes, with whom
Kit Wright had journeyed into Spain.
The two fanatics deferred to Catesby's views; for
Catesby was to them not only a man of daring spirit,




ORIGIN OF THE P-LOT.            91
but a fine gentleman,-the Lord of Lapworth and
Ashby St. Leger; while they were only Jack and Tom.
But ere they took that step, from which they could
never turn back, Tom urged that a last appeal should
be made for help on the side of Spain; and Catesby,
though he said it would come to naught, was willing
to oblige his tools. He had to deal with the weak no
less than with the strong. He had to ask what could
be done when the blow was struck. He had to satisfy
his friends before he could destroy his enemies; and
Tom Winter imagined that when the old Catholic
families saw how the search for help had been made
on every side, and on every side in vain, many of those
who would otherwise stand aloof might be induced to
join them after the King was killed.
That last appeal could be made without loss of time.
A great hidalgo, Juan Fernando de Velasco, Duke de
Frias and Constable of Castile, was on his way to London, armed with powers to arrange the terms of peace.
Velasco was then at Bergues, in Flanders, a small
inland fortress, near Dunkirk, where he was waiting
for his final order ere he crossed the Straits into Kent.
To him they could send Tom Winter on a last appeal;
and if, as they smpposed, the Constable was bent on
serving his earthly rather than his heavenly master,
they could then go forward in their work with the
certainty of finding troops who would join themn with
a conscience free from doubt. But in a mission of so
much moment they must have Jesuit counsel and
Jesuit help. They rode to White Webbs, and Garnet
advised that Tresham and Monteagle should be asked
to join in the message to Velasco, in order to give
it importance in the Constable's eyes. Monteagle,
Tresham, and Catesby held a meeting, at which Winter's instructions were drawn up and signed; but these




92        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
three gentlemen, painfully aware how little they could
pretend to represent the English Catholics, and certain
that the Constable would ask their messenger why he
had brought no letters from Northumberland, Montagu,
and Mordaunt, told Winter to explain that the three
gentlemen were of a quality most fit for such an enterprise, since they were not so deeply suspected and
closely watched as the great Catholic peers. But the
mission was, on Catesby's part, a blind. The true
business on which Tom went over sea was to confer
with Owen and engage the services of Fawkes.
Winter found Father Owen at Dunkirk, in waiting
on Velasco, who was still at Bergues. Owen walked
with Tom to Bergues, where they saw Velasco, and
learned from the Constable that he had not only received strict commands from his royal master to do
good offices to the Catholics, but was bound in his
own conscience to do them. As the Jesuit and the
conspirator walked back through the marshes to Dunkirk, they canvassed Velasco's words.  "Will they
help us?" asked Winter. "Not a jot," said Owen:
"they seek their own ends, and care nothing about us."
Then Winter told the Father what the three men had
contrived, and asked hime whthter Fawkes could be
trusted in such a work. Owen said yes; Fawkes was
in Brussels, but Owen undertook that he should start
for London in a trice.
Then Winter rode to the camp before Ostend to see
Sir William Stanley and inquire of Fawkes's " sufficiency in the wars."  Stanley spoke well of him; and,
while they were talking together, Fawkes came in to
salute his captain. " This is the gentleman," said Sir
William; and the two men who were to labor in the
mine shook hands. "Some good friends of yours,"
quoth Tom, " desire your company in England; and,




VINEGAR HO USE.               93
if you please to come to me, we will confer on that
subject.'  Two days later, Fawkes rode over to Dunkirk, where they talked the matter over with Father
Owen and other Jesuits,-Winter explaining to them
Catesby's plan for laying a train of powder below
the throne. At last, near Easter term, the talk was
over and the bargain made. Fawkes took the name
of John Johnson, in which his pass was drawn, and
the two conspirators crossed from Gravelines to Greenwich, where they took a pair of oars and pulled for
Lambeth, and landed at Horse Ferry, near Catesby's
door.
CHAPTER XIII.
VINEGAR HOUSE.
IN Parliament Place, the narrow lane going up from
the river stair, then called the Queen's Bridge, stood
Vinegar House, a small stone tenement leaning against
the Prince's Chamber, which formed a part of the old
palace, known as the House of Lords. From the cellars of this small tenement a shaft might be driven
through the foundations into the dark passages and
vaults below the throne. Catesby supposed that these
dark passages and vaults were empty,-ready, in fact,
to become the chambers of his mine. Vinegar Ilouse
was, therefore, his Kirk of Field.
But how was he to gain possession? This tenement, a part of the crown estate, was held on simple
lease by John Whynyard, Yeoman of the Wardrobe,
whose official residence it was. What chance had a




94        HEiR MAJESTY'S TO WER.
pardoned rebel, a notorious plotter, of getting such a
house into his power?  Catesby could not go and
make inquiries; for, his face being known to Cecil's
spies, he could hardly have landed at the Queen's
Bridge or strolled up Parliament Place without being
watched. Tom Bates, his serving-man, was therefore
sent across to see who lived in the house, and learn if
it could be hired. Bates brought word to Lambeth
that the Yeoman's rooms were under-let to their old
WArarwickshire neighbor, IHenry Ferrers, of Baddesley
Clinton, the famous antiquary. Lapworth, in which
Catesby was born, is but a mile from the moated old
manor in which Ferrers lived. Yet Catesby dared not
move one step; for the famous antiquary, though a
Catholic, was a Catholic of the English school. In
hiring such a place, he must have the use of some free
and unstained name. What name? Jack Wright, his
chum, was compromised like himself; but Jack had a
brother-in-law, in Thomas Percy, who seemed the very
man to get Vinegar House from the collector of county
pedigrees. Percy was a fine gentleman, of kin to the
great Northumbrian Earl. A courtier by birth, a
Gentleman Pensioner, in attendance on the King, he
would excite no question by pretending that he needed
a lodging near the court. This Percy had never been
concerned in plots, and his reputation was that of a
merry fellow who spent his money in the Cheapside
taverns and his health on the Bankside dames. But
Wright could answer for a change having come over
his sister's spouse. A wasted man of forty-five years,
with lanky face and feverish eyes, Percy had been
found by Jesuits in the stews, and brought by them
to a sense of his abominable life. Once he had cared
for nothing but a bottle and a bright eye; now his
comfort lay in a daily conflict with the flesh. IHe had




VINE GAR HO USE.              95
a grievance, too, which might help to serve them; for,
in his opinion, the King had used him as a tool and
mocked him as a dupe.
Catesby, who knew that Percy was sore in spirit,
invited him to the house at Lambeth, in which Wright
was living, and to which Winter came. "'Well, gentlemen," said the new-comer, "shall we always talk and
never do?" That was the key to strike; and Catesby,
taking him aside, explained to him the project,-showing him the House of Lords, which they could see from
his window, telling him how they would drive the shaft
from the cellars of Vinegar hIouse, and giving him the
names of those who were already privy to his hope.
Percy entered into the design at once, for his hatred
of the prince who had deceived and mocked hima was
at fever-point.
A lodging was taken for Guy Fawkes (Mr. "Johnson") in the house of Widow Herbert, in Butcher
Row, an alley behind St. Clement Danes. To this
house in Butcher Row came Father Gerard from
White Webbs, bringing with him the stuff to decorate an altar, bread and wine for the sacrament, and
all the things required by a priest when celebrating
mass. An upper room of Widow Herbert's house was
turned into a chapel; and when the priest was ready
for his part, Catesby, Percy, Tom Winter, Jack Wright,
and Fawkes assembled in the house,-a quaint old
Tudor pile at the corner of Clement's Lane,-first in
the lower room, where they swore each other upon the
Primer, and then in the upper room, where they heard
Father Gerard say mass, and took from his hands the
sacrament on that oath. Each of the five conspirators
was sworn upon his knees, with his hand on the Primer,
that he would keep the secret, that he would be true to
his fellows, that he would be constant in the plot.




96        HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
The question now arose more sharply, How were
they to get possession of Vinegar House? The good
old antiquary, it seemed, was seldom in town, and
might be persuaded to sell his lease; but, on application being made to Ferrers, they found that he had no
power to sell, unless with Whynyard's knowledge and
consent,-a thing which it might be hard for them to
get. Percy made the task his own. Whynyard was
away fiom town, attending on the court, and when
Percy spoke to his wife Susan, the thrifty woman made
some ado about it, as she knew that to let an official
residence was wrong; but on Percy hinting that he
would buy her "good will," her scruples melted into
air. Besides the money, she felt that a Gentlelnan
Pensioner might be a good friend to a Yeoman of the
Wardrobe. Yet Mrs. Whynyard was prudent enough
to ask for references, and she only parted with the key
of her house on the pledge of Sir Dudley Carleton and
other of the Earl's gentlemen. Percy was to pay
twenty pounds to Ferrers for his lease, and four pounds
a quarter for his rent.
A small tenement adjoined Vinegar House, in which
Gideon Gibbins, the porter, lived. This tenement
Percy was to have at any time he pleased; and in the
mean while Mrs. Gibbins, the porter's wife, was hired
to keep his house.
Vinegar House, like many official lodgings at the
court, had only one bedroom; so that when Percy
brought Guy Fawkes, in the character of his servant
" Johnson," to the house, he had to lie elsewhere hiniself. Percy nlade a friend of Mrs. Gibbins as well as
of Mrs. Whynyard, so that little was said about his
going and coming to Parliament Place. He was said
to be at Sion, at Alnwick, at Wressil, at Petworth,
busy about the Earl's affairs.




VINEGAR HO USE.               97
The conspirators had got their cellar, and only a
dozen feet of masonry divided them from the passages
and vaults below the throne. But the house was too
small for a magazine, and stood in a lane too much
exposed. They would require a second house, in which
to hoard the planks, the powder, and the miningtools,-a house near the river, and not too far from
Parliament Place. On looking round, they saw that
Catesby's lodging on the Lambeth side would do; but
his housekeeper could not be trusted; and before they
could begin to pile up planks and powder they must
find some " honest fellow" to keep their store. This
" honest fellow" they found in Robert Kay, a reprobate
son of Edward Kay, Vicar of' Staveley. Kay was
starving in the streets, having left the service of Lord
Mordaunt, in whose family his wife was an upper nurse.
Iay took the oaths, and went to the river-bank, on
which Catesby removed to his place in Moorcroft,
under the city wall.
In this lonely house by the river-side, Winter and
I(ay began to collect the tools, to frame the planks,
and to prepare the powder, which they afterward
boated over in the dead of night, and put on shore ill
a covered nook of the wharf, near the Queen's Bridge.
Except from the river, it was impossible to see their
boat, and only then by persons who were close in shore.
One autumn night, a servant from the Wardrobe office,
coming late to Westminster, and going under the wall
of Sir Thomas Parry's garden, saw a strange boat by
the wharf, with men going to and fro, through the
back door of Percy's house; but, one of these men
being Gibbins, the porter, he thought no more about
it. Gibbins had been taken into Percy's pay.
Some months elapsed before Fawkes was ready to
begin the mine; for, Vinegar House being public
SER. II.           ()




98        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
property, held by the Yeoman on simple lease, he was
subject to interference of many kinds. Once, indeed,
Fawkes was thrown into despair by news that the house
was wanted by the crown.
Parliament was sitting, busy with fifty committees
and conferences, when the King brought forward his
great and premature scheme for a legislative union
of the two kingdoms. Warm debates took place on
this proposal, in which Bacon played the leading part.
The judges objected to the change of title from England to Great Britain; sixteen commissioners, of whom
the first was Bacon, were appointed to consider the
project in all its bearings on policy and law; and, as
room for Bacon and his fellows could not be found in
the palace proper, the adjoining tenement was ordered
to be cleared. In fact, those famous conferences between Bacon and Hamilton, the Lord Advocate of
Scotland, which are celebrated in the "Essays" as an
example of grave and orderly proceedings in affairs of
state, were held in Vinegar House.
Surprised by this bad news, Fawkes sent for Tom
Winter, who quickly came in to see what could be
done.
The powder, planks, and mining-tools could hardly
be taken away unseen. The lesser danger was to leave
them; yet the plotters must have left them in despair,since the chance of a discovery hung on such accidents
as that of a servant going down into the vaults. Bacon
and Hamilton, with some of the best gentlemen of
England and Scotland, met for many weeks to debate
the terms of union in a powder-magazine!
At length their work was done, and the commissioners went away, not dreaming of the perils from
which they had so narrowly escaped. Then Fawkes
returned to arm and strengthen his house, so that he




VINEGAR HO USE.               99
and his fellows might be able, in case of sudden attack,
to resist some hours. The four gentlemen who were
to be his companions in the mine had all seen service,
more or less, and two of them had been regularly
trained to arms. Jack Wright was said to be the finest
swordsman of his day.
When all was ready for them, the five confederates
came to Parliament Place, late in the night, and one
by one, unseen, each with his pockets full of baked
pies and boiled eggs. They went down into the cellar,
carrying with them iron bars, and powder, and holy
water, to find that the task on which they were entering was beyond their strength. When wasted and
worn by toil, they fetched in IKay from Lambeth, leaving the house locked up, and swore Kit Wright of the
brotherhood; but, when all was done, the seven were
found to be as weak in presence of the stone foundations as the five. Fawkes, who kept the watch while
his fellows toiled in the mine, gave notice of the coming of any one down the lane. Much time was spent
in grubbing at the stone before an incident let in a
flood of light upon their minds. What did they expect
to find on the other side of that solid wall? Large
vaults and passages lying below the Prince's Chamber
and the House of Lords; but in what state could they
expect to find these passages and vaults? What if they
were tenanted? A noise was heard in the earth: the
miners sprinkled holy water on the ground; but still
the noise went on. What could it be? They sent for
Fawkes, who listened on the ground with a miner's
ear. As he could make no guess as to whence it came,
he covered his dress with a porter's frock, and went upstairs into the street. In a closed court, behind the
Prince's Chamber, he found a low door open, with
men going up and down the steps, which led, as he




100       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
could plainly see, into the passages and vaults beneath
the House of Lords. On prying further, he learned
that a sale of coals was going on; for Andrew Bright,
distiller of sweet herbs to the court, the tenant of these
vaults, was selling off his stock and giving up his lease
to one Skinner of King Street, for the purposes of his
trade.
When Fawkes returned with this news, the confederates saw that their shaft was a mistake; for what
would they gain by driving through a dozen feet
of granite to arrive in a magazine of goods? They
must get those vaults. They must get them at any
cost. But how? Skinner was now their man; but
how could they induce him to forego his lease? What
lie could they invent, that would not seem a lie? They
hit on a device, which Percy was to put in train. Going to Mrs. Whynyard, Percy told tha~t dame that his
wife, who was then in the country, wi'shed to come up
and see the town. She was to live with him at Vinegar House, to be near the court; but, before she came,
he wished to lay inll stores of coals and billets, and
would therefore like to hire the adjoining vaults. If
she could help him with Skinner, he would give her
twenty shillings for her trouble, and pay her one year's
rent in advance. Skinner's rent was four pounds a
year, and Percy offered to pay her five pounds down.
This money tempted her, though she felt some qualms;
and, going up to King Street, she arranged the business
with Mrs. Skinner, who undertook, for a present of
forty shillings, to persuade her husband to oblige a
gentleman who was not only a kinsman of Northumberland, but a servant of the King.
The place now bought for a year for seven pounds
was a long series of passages and vaults, of early English work, with walls of enormous strength, and a roof




CONSPIRACY AT LARGE.            101
supported by beams and shafts like those in the White
Tower. Being low and dark, the stores brought into
them from the street could be easily hidden out of
sight. The task of the plotters was therefore done so
soon as the boats had ferried the sacks of powder across
from the Lambeth side, and Fawkes had covered them
over with sticks and stones, with broken glass, and a
litter of coals.
Vinegar House being now ready for Mrs. Percy, the
gentleman left for the country, telling Mrs. Whynyard
that he was going away to fetch his lady up to town.
CHAPTER XIV.
CONSPIRACY AT LARGE.
THE comrades parted company in Parliament Place,
each of the seven going off to his several home, conspirators at large.
Giving up his keys to Mrs. Gibbins, Fawkes went
back to Flanders, where he had works to do, which
could only be done through Father Owen and Sir William Stanley, now recognized in Butcher Row and
Enfield Chase as the Foreign Minister and General of
the plot. On looking to the moment when the blow
was struck, the fanatics saw that two things would be
wanted in that hour of need,-an armed force within
easy reach of the Tower, and a favorable disposition
on the part of foreign courts. The two great men in
Flanders could promote these ends. Owen was the
9*




102       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
most active and experienced agent in court and camp.
The exiles would obey his slightest hint, and the statesmen of Europe would listen to him more readily than
to any other English priest. Stanley could arm and
drill the volunteers whom Owen drew over to their
cause, so as to hold a force in hand to cross when the
mine was fired and the King was slain. Some doubts
were felt as to whether it would be safe to trust these
exiles with the secret; but Catesby overcame all doubts
by saying it must be done; and Fawkes arrived in
Brussels empowered to tell the Jesuit and the General
all.
Stanley was then in Spain; but Father Owen received his news with rapture. Yes; they could count
on him. Of Stanley he was not so sure. That exile
was in Madrid, persuading Lerma to make his peace
with James; and he would hardly tie his hands by
entering into yet another plot. But Owen, believing
he would fail with Lerma, expected him back in Brussels with the bitter heart of a newly disappointed man.
The Father undertook to deal with him at the proper
time; and he pledged his word to Fawkes that, when
the deed was done, Sir William  and his regiment
should cross the Straits and march upon the Tower.
The Jesuit also took upon himself to prepare the
way for them in PIome, where, at the moment, things
were looking black for the cause in which they had
staked their lives. The Pope seemed more and more
inclined toward peace; the English college was in
disgrace; and Aquaviva, at the personal request of
Clement, had ordered Persons to retire fiom Rome.
The Jesuit was in Naples, fretting his life out in that
Spanish city, while the Pope was receiving messages
from James with every mark of personal good-will.
To have an agent in Rome was now essential; and,




CONSPIRACY AT LARGE.             103
with the advice of Catesby, Sir Edmund Baynham was
sent by Father Owen into Italy, instructed to prepare
the Roman court for what was coming, and to justify
it when the crash should come.
Catesby rode down to Lapworth with Jack Wright,
whom he left in the old manor, while he rode on to
Oxford with Tom Winter, whither he had called two
country squires to meet him,-Robert Winter, of Huddington, Tom's elder brother, a slow and rather stupid
fellow, and John Grant, of Norbrook, one of those
reckless devils who had been out with Essex in the
Strand. These squires he meant to draw into his plot.
As the fine gentlemen of the circle, Catesby and
Percy had a place and power apart from the other five.
Fawkes had been a servant to Lord Montagu. Winter
was a servant to Lord Monteagle.  Kay had been a
servant to Lord Mordaunt. Jack Wright, the fencer,
was a ruined man, whom Catesby had to feed and
lodge. Kit Wright was poorer than his brother Jack.
The money which had gone in hire of houses and in
pay of men was either Catesby's money or Percy's
money. Large sums were needed to conduct their
enterprise; and no one could suggest a way of raising
funds except by drawing on the purses of richer men.
But where could tiey find such comrades? Men with
money are shy of plots. This Catesby and Percy told
their fellows, saying, truly enough, that many a country
squire might lend them his money, and even promise
them his sword, who would not care to put himself
wholly into their power by giving in his name. On
this ground, Catesby asked from the five a singular
and dangerous power; - no less than that he and Percy
should be free to communicate their secret to any one
they pleased, if it were done in the presence and with
the consent of any sworn brother. That power was




104       HE.R MAJES TY'S TOWER.
given up to them; for how could Jack and Tom, Kit
and Guy, resist such men?
When Robert Winter heard from Catesby's lips of
the design in which his brother Tom had risked his
neck, he turned away sullenly, saying the project was
too dangerous, and would be sure to fail unless the
Catholic powers abroad and the Catholic lords at home
should give their aid. John Grant raised no objection
to the mine; and, after much debate, the two country
squires were sworn into the plot.
Tom Bates, the serving-man, was now brought in,
from fear of his idle tongue. Being much aboutVinegar House, in waiting on his master, Bates had come
to know of the mine and vault; and Catesby knew of
no way to shut his mouth except by swearing him on
the Primer and making him a party in their perils.
Bates had no brains for such a work, and in his very
next confession he blabbed out the secret to his priest,
whose game it was to have known nothing about the
design on foot. The priest was Father Greenway, one
of Garnet's circle at White Webbs; and the holy man
could not pacify Bates without telling him, in express
terms, that the cause was good, that he must keep the
secret, and that then only he should have absolution
for his sins.
From Oxford, Catesby rode down to Bath, where
Percy was drinking the waters for his health. Their
work was going on well, yet many things had to be
arranged before the blow was struck. The King and
Prince being slain, they must get Charles, and his sister
Elizabeth, into their keeping, to use as policy should
prompt them. Charles, it was hoped, would be in
London; Elizabeth was at Combe Abbey, two miles
from Coventry. Percy undertook to seize the Prince,
Catesby the Princess. As an officer of the household,




CONSPIRACY AT LARGE.            105
Percy could go into the Prince's chamber, and he arranged to be there when the blow was struck. He was
to station a dozen men at the palace-doors, to post three
mounted gentlemen at the court-gate, and then go in
-with a trusty friend-and chat with the Prince until
the crash was heard in Parliament Place, when he was
to hurry Charles away. Catesby, on his side, was to
call his Catholic friends together at IDunchurch, near
his seat of Ashby St. Leger, on pretense of a great
hunting-party, which he hoped Lord Harrington and
the knights in attendance on Elizabeth at Combe would
be induced to join; so that the confederates, moving
secretly and rapidly from many points on the Abbey,
might take the Princess by surprise and all-but alone.
But more was needed than a plan of operations.
They needed money, and they needed men; for both
of which they saw that they would have to go beyond
the narrow circle of converts to their faith. Catesby
urged on Percy that many gentlemen would trust him
and help him who would not put their lives into the
hands of all by taking a formal oath, and Percy, knowing front his own experience that this was true, raised
no objection to Catesby's proposal that each of them
should have the power, without consulting their comrades, to act-fromn time to time-in the common cause
as in their judgment should seem well. Percy consented to this new and still more dangerous stretch of
their separate power.
As the time to act drew near, the man who had most
to gain and most to lose began to play with his comrades'
lives, but only, as he fancied, for their good, because he
knew better than his fellows how far he could go; putting this man on his guard by a hint, taking that man
into his confidence by an oath; telling half the truth to
one, the whole truth to another, according to the ser



106       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
vice which he hoped to secure from each. Armed with
his new powers, he rode to Huddington, Robert Winter's seat, from which he wrote to Stephen Littleton,
of Holbeach, and Humphrey, his younger brother,members of an old Catholic family, to whom he dared
not reveal his plot in full. He told these squires that
he was raising a Catholic regiment for the Cardinal
Archduke's service, to consist of three hundred horse;
and he offered to Stephen the rank of captain in this
troop. Stephen, pleased with his prospects, undertook
to raise money and men and to hold his company in
readiness to march.
Ambrose Rokewood was a man of similar stamp.
A great breeder and lover of horse's, of which he kept
a stud at Coldham Hall more fit for a prince than for
a country gentleman, it was of vast importance for
Catesby to bring Rokewood in. But the task was not
easy; for the Suffolk squire, though educated in a
Jesuits' college, and equally attached to Garnet and
to Catesby, with whom he had acted in the dangerous
affair of Wright's mission to Madrid, was of an ancient
Catholic race, not much inclined to adopt such desperate remedies for his wrongs as public murder in
the name of God. His love for Catesby was like that
of a woman; yet his soul recoiled from the thought of
shedding blood, and he told his tempter he could not
in conscience join him. Long and subtle were the
arguments employed to draw him in. The case, his
friend assured him, had been settled by the Catholic
divines; a case of conscience having been drawn up,
in which the facts set forth would cover their own
design. But many persons, urged the squire, would
perish in the explosion who had done no harm. They
could not help that, Catesby said; and their divines
had laid down the rule, that if an action otherwise




CONSPIRACY AT LARGE.             107
right could not be done without killing some innocents,
it might still be done. Rokewood was not convinced,
and even his love for Catesby might have failed to draw
him in, had not the persecuting spirit of the times inflicted on his proud nature a bitter sense of personal
wrong, in his indictment before the Middlesex magistrates as a notorious Papist and recusant. Full of fear
and sore with insult, Rokewood threw himself into his
tempter's arms.
The snare was thrown at Sir Everard Digby. Digby,
educated in the national Church, had been caught by
the Jesuits in his early manhood, and his house of
Goathurst, in Bucks, had long been used as a hidingplace for priests. When Catesby spoke to him, Digby
started at the news; he could not seize the principle
of such a crime; and when Catesby told him it was
sanctioned by the Jesuits, he expressed some doubts
of such a fact. But on consulting Father Fisher, his
confessor, he learned that what Catesby said was true;
on which he promised his support, and a contribution
of fifteen hundred pounds.
This doubt was also found in his cousin Frank.
Frank Tresham had of late kept clear of plots, believing, like Monteagle, that his wiser course would be to
make friends at court, and take his chance with Northampton and the Catholic peers, instead of with Garnet
and the converts of White Webbs. He was not mad;
he shrank with visible dread from the crime of murder;
and before the secret oath had passed his lips his friend
was troubled with a ghastly fear. Would Frank betray him? Catesby asked himself. More than once he
wished he had not spoken. Frank was hot and cold
by turns,-suggesting doubts as to what would be said
in Rome, proposing questions as to how their brethren
could be saved, and generally objecting to the mine




108       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
and the march on Conibe Abbey as sure to fail. Yet,
as Frank promised help in money and in men, —in
money, two thousand pounds,-his jealous cousin could
only take his gold and stick a poniard in his belt; so
that on the slightest sign of treason he could plunge
the steel into his heart.
Mrs. Vaux of IIarrowden, sister-in-law of Ann and
Helen, was used by the conspirators without being
sworn. This lady, by birth a Roper, was of ancient
Catholic stock, and not to be trusted with a knowledge
of Catesby's plans. But she was asked to invite such
persons to her house as Henry Hurlstone and other
squires whom Garnet  and Catesby desired to meet,gentlemen who might be persuaded to join the hunt
at Dunchurch, in the hope that when their blood was
stirred by news from Parliament Place they could be
drawn into marching on Combe Abbey with the rest.
CHAPTER XV.
THE JESUITS MOVE.
TIIE time was now come for the Jesuits to move, so
as to rouse their pupils without comllmitting themselves
too openly to the plot.
Good news came in front Ronme, to which Persons
had returned from Naples, at the call of a new Pope.
Clement was dead; aiid Leo, his successor, was also
dead. In thirty days three Popes had reigned in Rome;
the last of whom, Paul the Fifth, a man of chilled and
fervent passions, gave his ear to the English Jesuits,




THEE JESUITS MOVE'.             109
as counselors who must understand their country better
than Italian cardinals and Spanish monks. Paul heard
nothing firom Persons about Catesby's crime; but he
listened with zeal to his statements on English affairs,
and promised his wily visitor that he would think over
his request for help il. the task of converting souls to
God. Persons was about to send a priest to London,
one Father Robarts, to stand by the side of Fawkes.
It was of high importance that Robarts should go to
England fresh from the Pontiff's presence and with the
Pontiff's blessing on his head. Persons obtained for
him a special audience and benediction from Paul, and
then dispatched him to London, with orders to report
himself to Garnet and Catesby and to take up his
post where those counselors should suggest.
Good news came in fiom the Flemish camp, to which
Stanley had returned, as Father Owen expected, in
bitter mood. He was easily induced to join a plot
in which he was to play the most brilliant part. His
comrades in London heard with delight that he was
raising a brigade of Swiss, Walloons, and Irish, which
he would lead in person across the Straits so soon as
he received a summons fromn White Webbs.
Coming backi from Flanders, Fawkes took up his
abode in Vinegar IHouse, to which Mrs. Percy was said
to be coming from her country-seat. He paid the
quarter's rent then due, and Mrs. Whynyard observed
that his purse was full of gold. But he often went
from honle and stayed away all night. In fact, he
kept his old lodging inl Butcher Row, at Widow Herbert's house, as a more convenieint place of call for his
friends than either the tavern in Carter Lane or the
house in Parliamnent Place. Mrs. hIerbert hardly liked
her lodger, whose comingii  and going she could not quite
make out, but he paid his rent to the hour, and wvas
SER. 11.           10




110       HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
much away from Butcher Row,-points in his favor in
the landlady's eyes. Often he was at Moorcroft and
White Webbs in secret conference with Catesby and
Tom. His masters deemed it prudent for him to be
rarely seen in Parliament Place.
Early in the year, Father Garnet, Father Oldcorne,
and the two ladies left White Webbs for the midland
shires, where the chief conspirators were gathering into
knots and groups. " Mrs. Perkins" left her servant
James in the house.
They began their travels in the double character of
laymen and of priests. On the road and at inn-yards,
Garnet was " Mr. Mese," Oldcorne was "Mr. Perkins,"
while in the houses of their penitents they were known
as Father Walley and Father Tesmond. The ladies
had a similar choice of names. Ann was " Mrs. Perkins" on the road, Mrs. Vaux in the house; Helen
was "Mrs. Jennings" on the road, Mrs. Brooksby
in the house. Brooksby was sometimes with them,
oftener he was far away. They seldom slept on the
road, and never when it could be helped, but passed
from one Catholic mansion to another, under secret
arrangements, which never failed.
In June they came to White Webbs for a week, and
left it for a second round of visits, on the close of which
they came home again for three or four days.
The time was now come for every one to assume his
post. The Fathers held a council, and, when it broke
up, the Prefect and his two most trusty brethren separated, never to meet again. Garnet was to go into
the midland shires. Oldcorne, under his lay name of
"Perkins," was to remain in London. Greenway was
to cross over to Flanders. By this arrangement, each
knot of the conspirators would have a Jesuit in their
midst.




THE JESUITS MOVE.              111
The two ladies were to ride down with Garnet, so as
to be at head-quarters; but, ere they rode away, " Mrs.
Perkins" called her servant James, and gave him
charge of her house, with orders how to act. The
house was to be kept open, and the stable ready, to receive her friends. Some gentlemen would call, and
beds must be kept for them. He must see to their
comforts, and look well after their horses. Then the
company rode away for the last time, going straight to
Goathurst, Digby's seat in Bucks, where they found
the knight and his lady, Father Fisher their confessor,
Ambrose Rokewood and his wife, with a company of
some thirty squires and dames.
The Prefect had arranged a picturesque and striking
scene as prelude to the tragedy in Parliament Place,a pilgrimage to some holy well, in which the men and
women could equally have their part. He chose St.
Winifred's Well, in Flintshire, as the term  of their
journey; and, after a mass of special meaning had been
said at Goathurst, the whole company mounted and
rode away, with Father Garnet and Father Fisher in
their midst. The first resting-place of the cavalcade
was Norbrook, where Grant received them, and Garnet said mass; the second, Huddington, where Winter
received them, and Garnet again said mass. From
HIuddington they rode to Holt, where the ladies left
their horses, and, putting off shoes and socks, walked
barefooted to the Well. A special mass was said once
more; after which the party spent a night in the open
air, with the Flintshire saint. When daylight came,
the penitents walked back to Holt, put on their shoes
and socks, and returned the way they had come,
through Huddington and Norbrook, to Digby's house,
where the company dispersed to their several homes,
all the guests going away except Garnet, Mrs. Brooksby, and Ann Vaux.




112       HER MAJESTYS'S      TOWER.
Lapworth, Catesby's house, near TWarwick, was the
natural center of the plot; but Lapworth was too small.
a place; and, on the advice of Catesby, Sir Everard
Digby moved to Coughton, Thomas Throckmorton's
seat, near Alcaster, a central station and convenient
house. Rokewood also, on the same suggestion, hired
Clopton, near Stratford-on-Avon, from Lord Carew.
Jack Wright was at Lapworth; Thomas Morgan, the
assassin, was at Norbrook with a female companion of
dubious fame. Stephen Littleton was at Hagley, waiting for his summons to mount and march.
When all was ready for the blow in London, Father
Garnet and the two ladies rode over from Goathurst
to Coughton, where the Prefect lodged in the midst of
his unruly scholars until he heard from Digby that the
plot had failed.
CHAPTER XVI.
IN LONDON.
IN spite of his haughty bearing, Catesby was much
perplexed in mind.
IIe feared that his cousin Frank was false, that his
enterprise would fail, that his neck was forfeit to the
law. The last ten days of his London life were spent,
with intervals, at the lonely house in Enfield Chase.
Coming up from the shires, in company with Guy
Fawkes, he stopped on Friday, October 25, at White
Webbs, to which house he called Tom WTinter from
Montagu Close. Reports had reached him that Prince
Henry would not attend his father in the House of




IN LONDON.                113
Lords; in which case all their plans in seizing the
Princess Elizabeth at Combe Abbey, and the Duke
of York in Whitehall Palace, would be thrown away.
The father killed, his son would be King.  Could
Winter say whether these reports were true?  Yes,
Winter had heard this news. "Then we must have
our horses beyond the water," cried his chief; "and a
company to surprise the Prince, and leave the Duke
alone."  They sent word to Percy, then in the north,
to ride up to London with his utmost speed.
What lay with Catesby had been done. The mine
was laid; the torch was ready; and the man was sure.
A boat was lying near the Queen's Bridge, by which
it was hoped that Fawkes could push into the stream,
so as to avoid the shock and ruin of the mine. Lower
down the river lay a vessel, ready to set sail, by which
he could escape to a foreign port, with news of the
King's death, and a message for Stanley to cross, with
his Swiss and Irish companies, into the Thames. Parliament was to meet on Tuesday, November 5,-a day,
as Catesby thought, to be ever glorious in the calendar
of his Church. Excepting Percy, the chiefs were now
in London, waiting for that Tuesday to arrive. Father
Robarts had been stationed in Vinegar House, under
the care of Mrs. Gibbins. Catesby was at White
Webbs. Fawkes returned to Butcher Row for two or
three nights. Tom Winter was in Montagu Close.
Jack Wright was at the Horse Ferry, Lambeth.
Cousin Frank was in Clerkenwell. Rokewood, Kay,
and Kit Wright were lodging at St. Giles's Fields, in
the house of Mrs. More. When Percy came to town,
he was to stay with his friends Rokewood and Kay,
in their lodgings at Mrs. More's. Fawkes, who was
now become the nearest of Catesby's comrades, spent
most of his time secreted at Enfield Chase. All things
10*




114       HE]  MAJE STY'S TO TWER.
were prepared,-and all things, down to the inscriptions on their swords, in what the conspirators conceived to be a religious spirit. Rokewood had employed a cutler named Cradock to make three swordhilts, on each of which he was to engrave the Passion
of Christ. These swords were for himself, Kit Wright,
and Kay. Their chief, though he ordered no such hilt
for himself, was so much interested in the work that
he called very often at Cradock's shop to see what
progress he had made.
A fancy sword was not the thing of which Catesby
stood in most pressing need. He wanted money, and
lie wanted men. The absence of Prince Henry crossed
}his plans; and the means of seizing that Prince at the
moment of explosion were now beyond their reach.
Iis scheme was falling into chaos. Cousin Frank,
too, was suspected by him more and more. Frank
had not yet supplied the whole of his two thousand
pounds, and his general conduct had been so strange
of late that Catesby, though he loved him dearly, had
more than once thought of soothing his jealous rage
by plunging the dagger into his heart.
In truth, the Frank Tresham who had played with
him as a boy, and who had sworn the oath to keep his
secret, was not the Mr. Tresham with whom he had
now to deal. A serious change had come. Ihis sworn
companion was not the rich Northampton squire, for
his father, Sir Thomas, had been then alive; but while
the penitents were walking bare-legged to St. Winifred's Well, Sir Thomas had passed away, and Frank
had been left the master of Rushton Hall, with one of
the best estates in the midland shires. Then only he
saw the error of his way, for what he had done in
taking the oath of secrecy put this large estate in
peril, and Mr. Tresham was suspected by his desperate




IN LONDON.                115
kinsman of a design to undo what Cousin Frank had
done.
This task of undoing what he had done was not easy
for Mr. Tresham; since the payments which he had
made under his first rash promise had put him equally
into Catesby's power and into Cecil's power. As a
conspirator, guilty of compassing the King's death, his
life and fortune were at stake, and one word from his
disdainful cousin would send him, a ruined traitor, to
the Tower. How far Cecil and Northampton were
acquainted with the plot he shrewdly guessed; for any
man who watched the Secretary's action, with the clew
in his hand, could hardly help seeing that the government knew as much as they cared to learn.
A man must have been ignorant of Cecil and Northampton in no common measure who could have
dreamed that a secret which was known to a hundred
persons in Douai, Madrid, and Rome —that a design
which had been nursed at White Webbs and carried
out in Parliament Place-could have escaped the greatest masters of intrigue alive. Many of the court papers
have been burnt, yet enough remains to show that the
Council were informed of the plot in almost every
stage. Tilletson had told them of the design to cut
off the King and his progeny. Southwick, one of
their priestly spies in France, had sent them news of
everything done by the Jesuits, and the name of every
Jesuit who crossed the sea into Kent. VWilson wrote
to them from Valladolid, that the Jesuits were to try
once more what they had tried in the Queen's time,
and that the King and Prince were to be killed. The
matter was so far known as to be made a subject of
negotiation with the Papal Nuncio in Paris, who proposed to guarantee the King's personal safety on condition of his suspending the penal laws and granting




116       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
freedom of the mass. A sorcerer named Wright, a
spy named Williams, an informer named Coe, sent
warnings to Cecil, whose agents were in Enfield Chase,
in Warwick, in Stratford, in Dunchurch,-following
the Jesuits from mass to funeral, from pilgrimage to
hunt, counting their numbers, marking their proselytes, mapping out their haunts.
It wsas no part of Cecil's policy to step in one hour
before the dramatic time. He knew the value of a
plot too well to sacrifice the chances which Garnet and
Catesby were throwing into his path. A sudden surprise, a chase of malefactors, an arrest of Catholic
peers, with a state trial, and an execution of Jesuits,
would make his peace with a patriotic House of Commons, and secure to him the confidence and gratitude
of James. The King was vain enough to think that
he was personally a favorite of Heaven, and he wished
the world to see that he was really protected from
above. Iie wanted a day to be set apart in the calendar to his glory; and he had tried to get his Council
to adopt the fifth of August, the date of the Gowrie
Plot, as his sacred day. The thing could not be done;
for the Council knew that the King's escape from
IRuthven had produced only a slight-and not in any
sense a dramatic-shock of the public mind.  The
Scots themselves made a comedy of the day in Perth;
and even those among his courtiers who thought he
had been in danger smiled at the affair as a personal
feud in a provincial town. But a conspiracy in Lonldon, managed by the Jesuits, and threatening a hundred lives, would serve his weakness well, if it could
be only watched and turned so as to keep the actual
peril far firom his throat and crown. If all went well,
the King might write his name in the calendar on a
day to be called his own.




IN LONDON.                117
But Cecil and Northampton had other purposes in
view. They had to convince the Duke de Lerma that
they and their party in the Council were the only
agents at the English court whom it would be worth
his while to employ in carrying out the policy of
Spain. Philip, a fanatic in creed, was still inclined to
trust the Jesuits; and it was necessary that these
Jesuits should be swept away.
Measures of precaution had been taken long ago,
and nothing less than the blindness which afflicts all
criminals could have hidden from Catesby and Percy
the movements made to defeat their game. During
the summer and autumn months sharp eyes would
have noticed an unusual stir among the train-bands.
The musters had been called, the companies strengthened, ana the arms inspected in every shire. The Lord
Lieutenants of counties had been asked to see after
this great work in person; while in the shires which had
no such officers, the most able member of the Privy
Council had been charged with the task. If Spinola
had been menacing Kent, the preparations could hardly
have been more complete. Much and wise attention
had been given to the bands in Warwickshire,-Lord
Compton, the King's Lieutenant, receiving sharp commands from Whitehall to hold reviews of men and
arms, and to see for himself that both were in readiness
to take the field. Edmund Nicholson, the famous
armorer, was sent from London with a supply of guns
and pikes for these Warwickshire bands, some of whom
were then being drilled in the fields near Norbrook.
Father Southwick was sent for out of France, to help
in hunting down the Jesuits; and Cecil, remembering
the Essex rising and the Blackfriars play, shut up the
theaters, and confined the comedians to their homes.
On the very day of Catesby's arrival at White Webbs,




118       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
Father Southwick vwas in consultation with Cecil's
secretary, Levinus Munck.
The incidents through which the plot was brought
to light bear traces throughout of Cecil's art.
On Saturday afternoon, October 26, Monteagle, who
lived in Montagu Close, near the Globe Theater, sent
a messenger to his place in Hoxton (probably Brooke
House), with orders to prepare his supper, as he meant
to come out with a friend that night. The friend who
rode out with him to Hoxton was Thomas Ward, a
gentleman of his household, who was also a friend of
Winter, and an unsworn member of the plot. As the
peer and his man were sitting down to sup, a page
came into the room with a letter in his hand, which
had been given to him, he said, by a strange man in
the lane, who bade him give it to his lord 4nd to no
one else. Monteagle broke the seal, and tossed the
paper to Ward, who read it out aloud. The words
were vague enough, but they warned Monteagle, as
he tendered his life, to go into the country instead of
going to the Parliament house, as God and man had
concurred to punish the wickedness of the times by a
"terrible blow."  Pages, servants, all his household,
heard these menacing words, which Monteagle's conduct made more menacing still. He rose from the
table, called for his horse, and rode away to town.
About ten o'clock that Saturday night, he dashed
into Whitehall Yard, and ran up-stairs into Cecil's
private room, where he found a curious group for him
to meet by chance on such a night; four Catholic Earls,
whom James had now taken into his Council, Nottinghanl, Northampton, Suffoblk, and Worcester; all of
whom had come into Cecil's room to sup. Ten-o'clock
suppers were rather late; but the five lords were in no
hurry; and the letter which had been left at Mont



IN LONDON.                 119
eagle's door in HIoxton, by the unknown man, was
read aloud to them ere they sat down to eat. At table
they agreed to keep their secret, as the King, who was
hunting deer at Royston, was daily expected back in
town.
On Sunday morning the game was wholly in Cecil's
hands, but the player was too crafty to show his cards.
One of Catesby's crazes was that Cecil was a fool; and
Cecil, taking care that his victims should not be alarmed
one hour too soon, so veiled his action that Catesby
could neither carry out his plan nor save hiniself by
flight. Levinus Munck, his private secretary, sent for
Father Southwick, who was to take horse and ride
down into the country, where he was to say little and
to see much, running the Jesuit agents to their holes,
and marking the cover, so that Munck could issue the
warrants and throw them into jail whenever his master
pleased. Northampton sent for Sir Thomas Knyvet,
a connection of Lady Suffolk, and a man whom he
could trust. Knyvet, Warder of thie Mint, and a justice
of the peace for Westminster, was to prepare for a
sudden and secret service to the crown, for which in
time he might expect to receive a great reward. Ile
was to make a search and seizure for the King, which
could be more conveniently made by a justice of the
peace than by a captain of the Guard.
Monteagle, having interests in the plot beyond those
of Cecil, to whom it was a work of political art and
not a personal peril, was of all things anxious that
Catesby should escape unhurt. But he could not act
in person. Though his peace was made with Cecil, it
would never do for him to be known as giving a conspirator the advice and the means to fly. He spoke
to Ward, of whom he had a great conceit; and on
Sunday night, as Winter lay in bed, Ward went to




120       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
his bedside and told him all,-describing the letter left
in the Hoxton lane, the public reading in the hall, the
ride to London, the interview of Monteagle with the
five lords, and urging him, as he loved Catesby, to ride
over in the morning to White Webbs and force him
to take the boat for France.
At dawn on Monday, Winter left Montagu Close int
search of Father Oldcornme and Jack Wright; and when
he found themn in their lodgings, they rode together
to White Webbs with their doleful news. Catesby
reeled beneath the blow, but his spirits soon leaped
proudly up. Toni begged him to save himself, since
he could no longer hope to serve his God. But Catesby
would not hear of flight. IIe could not think their
secret was betrayed. A fancy seized him that the
news sent down by Ward was all a trick devised by
his cousin Frank to drive him off. He would look
farther into things than Tom saw need. The mine
should be examined; for, if Cecil had received such a
letter from Monteagle, his very first care must have
been to inspect the vault. Fawkes should go up to
town and see. Winter urged the peril; to which
Catesby answered that the vault was Fawkes's post,
and that they need not tell him why he was sent in.
Tuesday was spent in these debates, during which the
servant James was told to look after their geldings
and buy what was wanted in Enfield town, —anythiing
to keep him from the house.
On Wednesday morning Fawkes rode up to town,
and, opening the door into the vaults, found everything
as he had left it, down to the private mark which he
had placed to show wlhether any one had passed the
door. That night he rode back to Enfield Chase, where
the conspirators received his tidings with gladsome
hearts. On Thursday, Winter rode in to town. in




NO VEMBER, 1605.             121
search of Tresham, and, finding him in Clerkenwell,
proposed, in Catesby's name, that they should meet
next day in Barnet to confer upon their course.
Catesby, who knew his cousin capable of trick, could
not believe him capable of treachery; but he had so
far steeled his heart against him that, if they found
him false, he told Tom Winter, they must stab him on
the spot.
CHAPTER XVII.
NOVEMBER, 1605.
ON Friday, November 1, Catesby and Tom rode
over to Barnet, where Tresham came out from Clerkenwell to meet them. Catesby bluntly accused his
cousin of having broken his oath and betrayed the
secret. " How?" asked Frank, in an injured tone.
By writing that letter which was left by the unknown
messenger at Monteagle's door. It was a critical
moment for Cousin Frank. If he had paused in his
reply, the daggers of his comrades would have passed
into his flesh; but he denied the charge with so
much heat and scorn that they were staggered and
knew not how to treat him. Tresham was a pupil of
the Jesuits; he held that lying and deceit were lawful
in a good cause, and Garnet's treatise on Equivocation
was known to be his favorite book; but they could not
bring themselves to believe that he would palter with
an oath on the Primer, especially when that oath had
been sworn for ends which his Jesuit teachers had at
heart.
SER. IIT.         11




122       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
Frank made no secret of his opinion that the plot
had failed, that everything was known to Cecil and
Northampton, that his cousin was in peril and ought
to fly; but he was not the less ready, in Catesby's
presence and under the spell of his haughty spirit,
to pledge his soul that, if his cousin elected to stand
his ground and wait events, he would live and die at
Catesby's side. Perplexed in soul, the proud young
squire could not consent to desert his post. Percy was
still in the north, collecting rents on the Earl's estate;
and Catesby would not hear of any change being made
in their plans until that gentleman arrived in town.
But, if he could not fly, how could he leave his suspicious friend at large? A test of Frank's sincerity occurred to him: he asked his cousin for two hundred
pounds, to be spent in buying horses, arms, and powder. If Frank had made his peace with Cecil, he
would not dare to compromise himself afresh; he
would refuse to pay the money; and then they would
know with whom they had to deal. A poniard-thrust
would make him safe. If he paid the two hundred
pounds, he would be with them for life and death.
Frank promised them at once. He did so, as he
afterward declared, in the hope that when Catesby got
the money he would leave the country. He appointed
to meet Tom Winter that very night in Clerkenwell,
and put the gold into his hand.
Tonm went to Clerkenwell, where Tresham paid Thim
a hundred pounds,-perhaps thinking that, if Catesbhy
meant to go away, that sum was quite enough; but
Toni was urgent for the balance; and Tresham, though
he hoped to see no more of Tom, arranged to meet
him the very next night in Lincoln's Inn Walk,
whither he would bring the second of his two hundred
pounds.




NO VEMBER, 1605.             123
Catesby spent the Saturday (November 2) in buying
arms. In the evening, Winter was at his post near
Lincoln's Inn; to which Tresham came in the dark,
with a very sore spirit and a bag of gold containing
ninety pounds, the largest sum that he could raise in
so short a time. Winter took his money and heard
his speeches. More than ever, Frank felt certain that
the plot was known; and once again he urged on Torn
that Catesby should escape into France. He had a
yacht in the river, and this vessel he was willing to
lend them if they would only fly.
On Sunday morning (November 3) Ward paid
another visit to Winter's room. The news he brought
was graver, in his own opinion, than the first. The
King, he said, was come to town, and, having seen the
Monteagle letter, was deeply moved by it; though he
had urged the lords of his Council to maintain the
strictest silence on the subject. Search, said Ward,
was to be made immediately in the vaults of Parliament Place, particularly in the passages and chambers
beneath the throne, and everything they had done
would now be found.
Winter repaired to White Webbs with this bad
news; but Catesby, though he listened to every word
in fever, could not stoop to personal fear. No doubt
-he reasoned-the letter would lead to search being
made; but search was not discovery; and, if Fawkes
were on the spot, the heap of wood and coal might
pass for what it seemed. While they were whispering
to each other, Percy came to White Webbs, and this
man's scorn of flight and failure overcame all previous
doubts.
Percy had just arrived in town, where he hoped to
hide himself at Rokewood's lodgings, in St. Giles's
Fields. He had with him a large sum of money, be



124      IIER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
longing to the Earl, his kinsrnan, for which he had
immediate use; but, feeling that to be in town without reporting himself at Sion was a dangerous thing,
he sent Kit Wright to Isleworth, to mix with the
grooms and pages and to learn from them whether
his arrival in London was known in the household.
Late in the night, Kit brought him word to Mrs.
More's lodgings that his presence in London was
known at Sion, in consequence of which it was resolved that he should go up the river next day and
see the Earl.
Breaking up their conference at White Webbs, the
conspirators rode back to town on Sunday evening, —
Fawkes to go down at once to Vinegar House, where
he noticed that the mine was still untouched, the rest
to steal about the streets, from Parliament Place to
Whitehall Gardens, where they found, to their amazement, everything dull and quiet as on ordinary winter
nights. No stir at the gate, no torches in the court,
no tramp of men in Parliament Place! Relieved in
mind by what they saw, they crept at last to their
lodgings in St. Giles's Fields, and waited for the
dawn.
On Monday morning (November 4) they heard
from Fawkes that all was well at Vinegar House.
Who could now say their secret was known at court?
To-day was the King's; to-morrow would be theirs.
If Winter was a little down, Catesby and Percy were
elate and proud. What cause had they for drooping
of the spirit? Their mine was perfect, and their man
resolved. In less than thirty hours their fate would
be accomplished,-the House of Lords a wreck, the
King a cinder, the city stunned, the country helpless,
and the crown their prize. Percy ran out and bought
a watch, which he set in true time and sent to Fawkes,




NO VEMBER, 1605.            125
so that the watcher in the vault would be able to count
the very seconds which their enemies had now to live.
Greenway and Oldcorne had left for the country, with
good news, -the first for Goathurst and Coughton, the
second for IIendlip Hall. Robarts was at Vinegar
House. The final words were now passed from each
man to his fellow, and the plotters parted for the day,
each going to his post of duty, confident that the mine
would now be sprung. Percy went off to Sion, where
the Earl detained him to dine and sup. Tom Winter
returned to Montagu Close. Rokewood and Kay remained in St. Giles's Fields, near stables in which
Rokewood's horses stood with the harness ready on
their backs. Catesby and Jack Wright rode out quietly
to Enfield Chase, where they proposed to sleep, and
trot on early next day toward Dunchurch, in the hope
of reaching their rendezvous that night.
The plotters were hardly separated before a strange
event occurred in Parliament Place. Lord Suffolk
and Lord Monteagle came to Vinegar House, attended
by a page, and passed into the vaults under the Prince's
Chamber and the House of Lords. Suffolk was the
Lord Chamberlain, and both the peers were mernbers
of the persecuted Church. No guards came with them,
and they seemed to be light of mood, as though they
were going through an idle form of search. Fawkes
was in the vault, and watched their faces well. As
they walked along the passages, they laughed and
chatted with each other, and when Suffolk noticed
Fawkes in the vault he asked him in a light tone who
he was, and whose was the heap of wood and coal.
Fawkes answered that he was Mr. Percy's man, and
that the fuel was laid up for his master's use. Lord
Suffolk made some joke about his merry preparation
for the Christmas fires, and then the two lords went
11*




126       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
their way. The search being over, Fawkes came out
to let Percy know of the event, which had at once
confirmed and removed his fears. Percy had not come
back from Sion; but the upshot of this official search
was so important that Fawkes took horse and followed
him to Isleworth, where he was sitting at table with
the Earl. Percy came out into the yard, and, having
heard the news, went in again, made some excuse to
Northumberland, and rode with Fawkes to town.
The two men parted for the last time near Tothill
Fields,-Fawkes going down into the vault, to draw
on his jack-boots, to wind up his watch, and to light
his lantern, Percy riding to Rokewood's lodging, where
he had a room, to persuade his comrades who were still
in town that all was now going well.
About ten o'clock in the muikv November night,
Rokewood, Kay, and Percy crept from St. Giles's Fields
into King Street, near the palace-gates, to see and hear
the news. Nothing they could see and hear alarmed
them. The palace-gates were open, and the court was
free. Parliament Place was silent. In the streets of
Westminster not a sound of watch and guard was
heard. In the palace a light burned faintly here and
there, as if some page were rather late; but the windows in the King's apartments were dark, and the lords
who had supped with him appeared to have gone to
bed. Looking at the blank walls and silent courts of
the royal quarter, could any man believe that James
was conscious of what the morrow had in store?
When the clocks struck twelve, and yet no sign was
made, the three night-watchers crawled past Charing
Cross, up St. Martin's Lane, toward their lodgings in
the lonely St. Giles's Fields, convinced in their hearts
that long before noon next day the deed would be done
that was to shake the world.




NO VEMBER, 1605.            127
But, while they were creeping through the darkness
to their den, the spring had been made, and Fawkes
was a prisoner to the law.
The train being laid and the lantern lit, Fawkes was
coming up the stairs of his vault into the small inclosed
court behind the Prince's Chamber, when he was suddenly seized by strong men, bound hands and feet, and
searched. Sir Thomas Knyvet was earning his reward.
The watch which he had just wound up, a packet of
slow matches, a quantity of touch-wood, were taken
from his person; and a dark lantern, with the wick
alight, was found behind the cellar-door. "What are
you doing here?" asked Knyvet. " Had you but taken
me inside," said Fawkes, who saw with a soldier's
quickness that all was lost, "I should have blown you
up, the house, myself, and all." Securing his prisoner,
Knyvet proceeded to search the vault. The casks of
powder were soon laid bare, and a rough account of
them set down. From the cellars he went into Vinegar
House, where he arrested Gibbins the porter and Robarts the priest.
In a few minutes IKnyvet was in the King's presence
at Whitehall; and in a few months he was a member
of that House of Lords the frame of which he had so
boldly saved.




128       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
CHIAPTER  XVIII.
HUNTED DOWN.
BETIMES on Tuesday morning, Catesby and Jack
Wright were in the saddle, winding through Enfield
Chase toward Ashby St. Leger, which they meant to
reach that night by easy stages, unaware that Knyvet
had got possession of their mine, and that Fawkes was
lying on his wisp of straw in the darkest dungeon of
the Tower.
The plotters in St. Giles's Fields were roused in the
night by news that Fawkes had been seized in the
vault; and some of them crept into the streets to learn
whether this report was true. Kit Wright ran off to
Montagu Close, expecting to find Tom Winter, who
had gone away to his lodgings near the Strand. But
in the Close he heard a cry and parley which turned
him sick with fear. A noble lord was calling under
Monteagle's window, "Rise, and come with me to
Essex House! I am going to call up my Lord of
Northumberland!" Kit listened to what was said,
and from the hasty words then dropped he learned
that all was known. At five o'clock he found Winter
in his lodgings near the Strand, and told him what he
had heard under Monteagle's window. Tomn leaped
out of bed. " Go back, Mr. Wright," he begged,
"and learn what you can about Essex Gate." In a
short time Kit returned, saying surely all was known;
for the lords were then with the Earl in council, and
one Leyton had just ridden at full speed from the
door. The business seemed high and pressing, for the




HUNTED DOWN.                129
lords came out to see him off. He had dashed up
Fleet Street. " Go you then to Mr. Percy," whispered
Toni; " for sure it is for him they seek. Bid him be
gone. I will stay and see the uttermost." They parted
at the door.  Kit found his comrade Percy in the
street; a word sufficed to warn him; and the two men
leaped to horse, and rode away through Highgate, with
the cry of mounting messengers in their track.
Percy had arranged his plans for leaving town, in
case of failure, with such cunning art that for many
hours the government were uncertain in what direction he had fled. A messenger was sent to Ware, as
Cecil inferred that he would take the great north road;
but the postmaster replied that he had not passed since
Saturday, when he came up to town. The first news
heard by Cecil was from Archbishop Bancroft, who
reported that Percy had been met that morning near
Croydon, where he cried, as he rode along, that all
London was up in arms. The next news came from
the Lord Chief Justice Popham, who reported that
Percy was at Gravesend, where measures had been
taken for his arrest. Later in the day, Sir William
Waad, Lieutenant of the Tower, sent word to Whitehall that Sir Edward Yorke, in coming up to town
that day, had seen him riding northward in disguise.
Winter passed down the Strand into Whitehall
Yard, where he found the gates were closed and
guarded; and thence down King Street, on his way
to Parliament Place. The street was stopped, and
soldiers were drawn across the road. No one was
allowed to pass. Mixing with the crowd, he heard
that a plot had been discovered for blowing up the
King and Queen next day, and that the ruffian who
was to have fired the train had been captured with his
lantern and his match. Why need he wait for more?




130       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
Stealing swiftly to the stables where his gelding lay,
Tomr jumped into the saddle, and quitted London by
the nearest lanes,-not for the rendezvous at Ashby
St. Leger, but for what he hoped would be the safer
asylum of his brother's house.
Kay hung about town until ten o'clock, and then
took horse.
Young Rokewood was the last to fly. Proud of his
great stud and his greater prowess, the Suffolk squire
had placed relays of horses on the road from London
to Dunchurch, so that when he rode down to the hunting-party he could devour the distance with amazing
speed. Mounting his horse at eleven o'clock, he soon
came up with his comrades in the road. At Finchley
Common he overtook Kay, whence they tore on together
until Kay, getting tired of his pace, fell off. Near
Brickhill he overtook Catesby and Jack Wright, who
had not yet heard the news; and a piece beyond
Fenny Stratford they met with Percy and Kit Wright.
From this village they held on together, pushing past
Stony Stratford and Towcester at their utmost speed.
Percy and Jack Wright, less nobly mounted than their
fellows, had to cast away their cloaks in that furious
race for life.
In two hours Rokewood rode thirty miles on a single
horse, and made the whole distance of eighty-one miles
in less than seven hours.
Unconscious of the fate then speeding toward them
through the dark November night, two companies of
country squires were waiting at Ashby St. Leger and
Dunchurch in a riotous mood of mind. News having
come down that the mine was safe and all going well
at Westminster, Digby left his wife, his priest, and the
two ladies, on Sunday morning, safe at Coughton, and
came to Dunchurch with various gentlemen ready for




HUNTED DOWN.                131
the chase. The word was passed round the shires,
and men were hurrying from every side toward the
rendezvous. Robert Winter left his house near Worcester, and, trotting hard all day, arrived in Grafton,
— where his wife's father, John Talbot, a rich old
Catholic squire, then lived. The Littletons, leaving
Hagley at the same moment, met Winter on Monday
night in Coventry, where they slept at an inn. Next
day, the 5th of November, they pricked forward to
Dunchurch, where they found Sir Robert Digby of
Coleshill and a strong muster of Catholic squires and
their men, mounted on strong horses and armed with
guns and pikes. The Littletons put up their horses
and joined their friends in the village, while Winter
rode on to Ashby, where he expected in a few hours
to see his chief and receive the word to march. Ashby
was full of guests, and Lady Catesby was just sitting
down with them to supper at six o'clock, when a clatter of hoofs was heard in the court, and a moment
later her son himself dashed in amlong them, white
with passion and begrimed with dirt.
One word told all that there was left to tell.
Snatching down sword and lance fronm the baronial
hall, the gentlemen rushed toward the stables, mounted
their geldings in the dark, and made for Dunchurch,
to see their comrades and resolve on what should now
be done. The coming of Catesby in such a style threw
everything ajar; and when the country gentlemen saw
Digby and Catesby talking apart, in eager, tremulous
tones, they felt sure that the scheme had failed, that
government was master, and that the time had come
for them to fly. Sir Robert Digby left. Humphrey
Littleton also left. By twos and threes the company
thinned, as the minutes waned, until, about nine
o'clock, the army of Dunchurch was found to consist




132       HER MAJESTY'S T    TO WER.
of few beyond those who had been sworn accomplices
in the plot.
Fierce was the speech, insane the counsel, offered
at Dunchurch that night; but Catesby's overpowering
spirit at length compelled them to decide. Fawkes
being taken prisoner, they had to count on his telling
-under torture-what he knew. Their lives were
forfeit to the law; and none but madmen could expect
the King to overlook their crime. If they wished to
live, they must strike for life. One chance was left
them; an appeal to the Catholic people! Let the cry
be raised. In Warwickshire they could not hold their
ground; but Wales, in which they had recently invoked a powerful saint, lay open to their arms. Wales
was sternly Catholic in creed. The country was difficult, the population warlike; and a religious war would
feed itself on every passion of the Cymric heart.
Catesby's counsel being adopted, the meeting broke
up about ten o'clock, and the company got on the road
for Norbrook, which they reached in the dead of night,
and rested their geldings for an hour. Digby snatched
a pen and wrote a line to tell Garnet that the mine had
failed, to ask his advice, and to beg that he would meet
them at Robert Winter's house. Bates was sent with
this note to Coughton, that he, as one sworn to the
secret, might urge the good Father not to abandon
them in their hour of need. Then, mounting once
more, the band pushed forward in the early dawn
toward Alcaster and Huddington, which they reached
about two o'clock in the afternoon. Torn Winter had
just come in. They were weaker in force than when
they left Norbrook, for no one joined them on the road,
and some of their stragglers had dropped behind. The
country was rising round them  on every side. In
every stable from which they stole a horse, in every




HUNTED DOWN.                133
shop from which they snatched a gun, they raised up
swarms of enemies. Men of all classes were on their
track, -the sheriffs of Worcester and Warwick being
well prepared for such a chase by the recent musters
and their admirable drill. How were they to turn,
unless the Jesuits came?
A scene occurred at Coughton Hall. When Bates
dashed up to the door, he found the Prefect in the hall,
and gave him hastily his note. As Garnet opened the
paper, Greenway came in, and asked him what the
matter was. Garnet read the letter aloud, on which
Greenway exclaimed, " Here is no tarrying for you
and me." Bates begged that one of the Fathers at
least would ride across to Huddington and comfort his
young master. " I would go to him," said Greenway,
" though it were to a thousand deaths; but my going
would destroy the Society." Bates begged that they
would come, and come at once. Then the two Jesuits
stood apart, consulting in whispers for half an hour,
at the end of which Greenway came out into the open
air, attired in a suit of rich-colored satin covered with
gold lace, and, a horse being brought round from the
stable, he got on his back and accompanied Bates to
Robert Winter's house.
The interview between Greenway and Catesby was
in private. When it was over, Greenway took horse
and rode away to Hendlip Hall. When the priest was
gone away from them, Catesby called his companions,
Rokewood, Percy, Morgan, and the rest, and begged
of them to confess their sins and make up their souls
for death. Father Hart, a Jesuit living in Winter's
house, received them one by one in his closet, and,
having heard the story of their crime, absolved them
without a word.
SER. II.           12




134        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
The thing had to be done in haste; for Catesby was
convinced that the hour was nigh when they must either
die like soldiers or hang like dogs.
The confession over, and the absolution given, they
took to horse once more, going straight up north
through Stourbridge, to Stephen Littleton's house at
Holbeach, in Staffordshire; where Catesby had a mind
to make his stand and die, as he had lived, in conflict
with the law.
IHaving crossed the borders of a county, he supposed
that his friends were safe from pursuit for a few hours,
while the next sheriff and his bands were getting
ready; and, as much of their powder had been soaked
in crossing a river, he asked Morgan, Grant, and Rokewood to assist him in the dangerous task of drying it
before the kitchen fire. An accident ensued. A live
coal fell into the platter on which the powder was
spread, an explosion took place, and the four conspirators were blown off their seats, and their faces blackened and burnt. A bag of powder, big enough to have
burst a castle, was carried through the roof unsinged.
Yet the four men were so scorched and burnt that,
when their comrades came into the kitchen, they
shrank from the black and ghastly figures as from so
many imps. A weak and superstitious fellow, Littleton stole away fronm his house in the nighlt; and when
mlorning dawned, the servants saw that Sir Everard anld
Robert Winter were also gone. Bates followed them;
and then the bolder spirits of the plot were left alone.
Tom Winter, stirring early, met Stephen Littleton, who
told himn Catesby was dead, and urged hini to save his
life by flight. "'First I will go and bury the body of
our friendll," said TolLI; onl lleal'illg which, Littleton
slipped from the yard and left his house. Wlen Winter found the specters, lhe asked themn what they would




HUNTED DOWN.                 135
do. "We mean to die here," they answered, in their
pain. "What you do, I (do" sai( t!e faithful Tom.
About eleven o'clock, Sir Pichard Walsh and his
company beset the house, and begant to fire into the
court. Tom Winter was the first to fall, though his
wound was not mortal. Jack Wright was then shot
dead; and after him fell Kit his brother. Then the
assailants broke into the court, and Rokewood, shot
already in the arm, was pierced in the body by a lance.' Stand by me, Mr. Tom," cried Catesby, " and we will
die together."  Tom was too much hurt to, stand.
"Sir," he said, respectful to the last, " I have lost the
use of my right arm, and I fear that will cause nie to
be taken." One shot struck Percy and Catesby down,
-a shot that won a pension from King James,-and
then the fight was over, and the house secured.
Rokewood and Winter, Morgan and Grant, were
taken prisoners. Catesby and Percy stood in sore
need of help; but the only aid they could get from
man was such as added to the pangs of death; for,
while the sheriff was securing his prisoners and searching the house, the boors of the Black country swarmed
into the court, and, finding the wounded men lying on
the ground, they stripped them stark naked, stole their
clothes and ornaments, exposed their gashes to the air,
and caused them to expire in the accumulating agonies
of bleeding, thirst, and frost.




136       HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
CHAPTER XIX.
IN THE TOWER.
IN less than a week from the assault of Holbeach
House, the laymen of the plot were either dead or in
the Tower. Catesby, Percy, Jack and IKit Wright
were buried near the spot where they had fallen; but,
by Northampton's orders, they were dug up from the
earth and hung. Fawkes, Rokewood, Kay, Tom Winter, Stephen Littleton, Digby, Tresham, Bates, and
Robert Winter were dispersed in the several prisons
under charge of Waad, who brought them one by one
before Northampton and the Lords Commissioners
sitting in the Powder-Plot Room.
Their lives were clearly forfeit to the law, and Cecil
knew that he could hang them all without incurring
the reproach of dealing hardly with their Church.
The news of this plot was heard by the old English
Catholics with more astonishment than rage, though
the expression of their anger was both loud and deep.
The priests were still more prompt to denounce it than
their flocks. The venerable Archpriest, George Blackwell, took up his pen before a single man had yet been
killed or captured in the shires, and in a brief address
to the Catholic clergy stigmatized the plot as a detestable contrivance, in which no true Catholic could have
a share,-as an abominable thing, contrary to Holy
Writ, to the decrees of Councils, and to the instructions
of their spiritual guides. Blackwell told his clergy to
exhort their flocks to peace and obedience, and to avoid
falling into snares.




IN THE TOWER.               137
While Blackwell was composing his letter, Ben
Jonson, the poet, was standing in the Council chamber of Whitehall, denouncing the plot on behalf of
his fellow-laymen, and offering his personal service in
pursuing the gangs who had brought destruction on
his Church. The poet was then about thirty years of
age; for seven years he had been a Catholic; but he
was a Catholic of the old English school, a pupil of St.
Edward, not of St. Ignatius; and the part which he
proposed to play in this drama was in keeping with
his character and his creed. In his youth he had
fought against Philip in the Low Countries, and after
his conversion to Rome he had remained an enemy of
the Jesuits and of Spain. A crime like that proposed
by Catesby was one to fire his turbulent and generous
veins with fury; crime in the name of religion, murder
in the cause of God! He went down to Whitehall,
had a talk with Cecil, and, on a blank form being
given to him, he undertook to find an honest priest
who could help in running the conspirators to earth.
A form being placed in his hands, he went off to the
Venetian embassy, where he reckoned on finding the
Catholic chaplain eager to assist him in his search;
and he was right in his belief; for that chaplain told
him he had come on a good service,-one in which
a man of conscience, who loved his country, must
heartily engage. The chaplain, a foreigner, said he
would seek out an English priest who knew the Jesuits
and their haunts and would bring him to Cecil's chamber at Whitehall. But the poet's project led to nothing; for the priests, alarmed by the popular rage,
which took no note of the difference between the
children of St. Edward and the pupils of St. Ignatius,
dared not come forth into the light. Ben's indignation was extreme; and he wrote to tell Cecil that the
12*




138       HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
shame was so deep among the Catholics, that five
hundred gentlemen would abandon their religion in a
week.
The Council could hang the prisoners without reproach, and great would be the gains accruing from
their death. The Puritan towns would be delighted,
and the Puritan burgesses more pliant to the crown.
The King could get his name into the calendar and the
service-books. But Cecil and Northampton had other
purposes in mind. They wished not only to discredit
and destroy the Jesuit agency in England, but to cripple still more the partisans of war, by ruining the powerful Earl who was now their chief.
Week after week passed by, and the prisoners were
not tried for their offense. In fact, they were undergoing a course of daily trial by Northampton in the
Tower. Here they underwent a thousand interrogatories from Coke, a thousand hostilities from Waad, and
a thousand treacheries from Forsett. This Forsett was
one of Northampton's spies, a useful and despicable
wretch, whom his master employed in overhearing and
reporting the private conversations of prisoners with
each other. Cecil's object in allowing these proceedings was, not to obtain a knowledge of Jesuit complicity
in the plot, but evidence which could be adduced in a
court of law.
The prisoners had a conscience in the matter, of a
curious kind; for long after they had taken to accusing
each other in their confessions, they continued to screen
their priests. Both Fawkes and Winter affirmed that,
when they took that oath on the Primer in Butcher
Row, Father Gerard, who gave them the sacrament,
was ignorant of the purpose of their oath. The names
of Garnet, Greenway, Oldcorne, never passed their
lips. But the object of their lying words and lying




IN  THE  TO WE R.            139
silence was to screen their persons, not to clear their
fame. Of Father Owen they spoke quite freely; for
Owen was beyond the reach of English law.
Though Cecil was an artist in deceit, he was amazed
by the complexity of lying which he had now to study.
Sir Everard Digby seemed on the whole, apart from
his share in the plot, a man of honorable mind; yet
Digby, while a prisoner in the Tower, considered himself free to say and unsay, from hour to hour. He
told his questioners that he was not sworn; that he
went to Dunchurch for the hunt and nothing more;
that he was only with the band two days in all; that
he quitted them of his own free will. Next day, on
Fawkes being set before him, face to face, the poor
young fellow told some part of the truth, and justified
his former course of lies. He wrote to his wife a flood
of letters and a stock of doggerel rhymes. " If I had
thought there had been the least sin in it" (the scheme
of wholesale murder), " I would not have been in it for
all the world." Digby had been taught that assassination, in a certain cause, was not a sin; that a false statement, in a certain cause, was not a lie.
Fawkes was pressed more closely for confessions
against the Catholic peers; and, mainly on his avowals,
the Earl of Northumberland, Lord Montagu, Lord
Stourton, and Lord Mordaunt were brought into the
Tower.
Tresham was the greatest mystery of all. For many
days after Catesby's flight, Cousin Frank remained in
London, going about the streets as usual, and even
offering to assist the Council in seeking out the fugitives. Fawkes mentioned him as one of the sworn
confederates; yet for one whole week he was left at
large; and it is evident from his ways of life that he
felt no fear of being arrested. At length he was corn



140       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
mitted to the Tower; and Sir Thomas Lake, the King's
private secretary, considering him as a lost man, applied
for a grant of Pipewell Manor, one of his estates,
which James assured him he should have when it was
forfeited to the crown. He made a cautious statement,
saying he had seen Catesby and Winter, anid had given
them money, but was not a member of the plot, and
had only paid the money in order to tempt his cousin
to cross the seas. He seemed to know that the Council were bent on saving Lord Monteagle, and he fancied
that Monteagle could not be saved unless he himself
were spared. Monteagle's name appeared in all the
chief confessions; but a tiny slip of paper was pasted
over this name in every document that would have to
be produced in court.
Tom Winter, in the ample declarations which he
made in the Tower, described his mission into Spain,
and mentioned the names of Tresham, Catesby, Lord
Monteagle, and Father Greenway, as the men who
sent him to Madrid. Greenway was known to have
escaped, and Tonr had therefore no concern to hide his
share in the plots conducted from Enfield Chase; but
he manfully refrained from saying one word that could
have clouded Garnet's fame. Tresham was much more
frank. IHe said that Father Garnet, as well as Father
Greenway, had been present at their meetings in Enfield Chase, and was only too well acquainted with the
mission into Spain.
The art of lying was a favorite subject of study to
Cousin Frank, in whose house were found two treatises
on the art: one, in favor of equivocation, by Father
Garnet; the other, against equivocation, by Father
Blackwell. The Jesuit's convert, following the Jesuit's
rule, betrayed, without a kiss, the master from whom
he had learned his art.




IN  THE TO WER.             141
A few days after Frank gave his evidence against
the Prefect, he was reported sick; on which his wife,
Ann Tresham, applied for leave to attend him in his
cell, along with her old servant, William Vavasour, an
admirable scribe, who could write in many differing
styles. Mrs. Tresham, a woman of the Dacre mint,
procured from the sick man a paper purporting to be
a full denial of his former charge against the Jesuit.
A singular production was this paper. It began by
saving that the man who signed it had been guilty of
an infamous falsehood; it went on to say that he was
now about to tell the truth,-on his salvation; it then
asserted that Frank Tresham had not seen Father'Garnet for sixteen years, had never heard from him in
all these years, and had no knowledge of his being
privy to the mission into Spain! The form was no less
curious than the contents. Not being written in
Tresham's hand, some evidence was wanting to prove
it his. Mrs. Tresham  said it was in her hand, and
copied down by her from her husband's lips. A marginal note, in another hand, and signed with the name
of W. Vavasour, affirmed that such was the truth.
On the morrow Frank was dead: in fact, he died
the very night on which the document was signed.
Every word in that paper was a lie, and both Mrs.
Tresham and her servant knew it to be a lie. During
those sixteen years Mrs. Tresham had constantly received Father Garnet in her house. Nor was the paper
in Mr. Tresham's hand. As both the lady and the
scribe confessed later on, it was written by Vavasour
himself.
As yet the evidence of guilt which Cecil could produce in court was far too slight to warrant him in
arresting the Jesuit chief. A course was taken with
the servant Bates, as one less likely to be cunning in




142       HER MAJEST Y'S TO WE-R.
his fence. The man, led on from point to point, and
hardly seeing the drift of what he said, not only spoke
of his confession to Greenway, but of his ride from
Norbrook to Coughton, of his scene with Garnet in the
hall, and of his night journey to Huddington in company with the gentleman in colored satin and golden
lace. When asked where Greenway could be found,
he answered that he thought he was living at Hendlip
Hall.
Feeling that the tools of Philip were in his grasp,
the Secretary of State proclaimed the three Jesuits,
under the style of John Gerard, Henry Garnet, and
Oswald Tesmond. The very same day he wrote a
curious note to Anne, Lady Markham, of Beskwood
Park.
This starless creature had been suffered to reside at
Beskwood after her husband's liberation from the'Tower on condition of his going to live abroad. But
life was misery to her while Sir Griffin ate the bread
of exile, and, by force of brooding on her grief, which
she attributed, not unfairly, to the Jesuits, she fell into
such obliquity of moral view as to think herself justified in doing them every sort of wrong. She had
written a note to Cecil, hinting that her place among
the Catholics, as one who had suffered in their cause,
was such as enabled her to hear and see many things
which it behoved the King to learn. Encouraged to
speak out, she answered that certain persons then in
custody could tell where the missing Jesuits could be
found, From Hurleston, then in the Marshalsea, he
might hear of Father Gerard; from Digby, then in
the Tower, he might hear of Garnet. Cecil, while
leading her on by the hope of a pardon for her husband, told her that Gerard, the priest who had sworn
the confederates in Butcher Row, was wanted the first




IN  THE TO WER.             143
and most. To this communication she replied that,
while she must be wary in her steps, lest the Catholics
should suspect her of playing them false, she was eager
to do his bidding and to win his favor. Garnet and
Gerard, she could tell him, had been hiding in the
house of Mrs. Vaux at Harrowden, and a stricter watch
for two days longer would have forced them to come
out. Garnet was gone, but Gerard was in the shires;
and she offered to inveigle him to Beskwood Park and
then deliver him up a prisoner to the King.
Cecil was free in promises. In letters dated from
Whitehall, he told her he was loath to prosecute the
Jesuits, but, on finding that they had been principals
in the plot, he had no choice. Accepting gladly her
proposal to ensnare Father Gerard, he sent her down a
blank form of warrant, so that her people could arrest
him the moment he set foot within her gates.
Lady Markham failed in her treacherous scheme,
through the zeal of one Rutland Molyneux, a Nottingham  squire, who, suspecting her purpose, met
Father Gerard oil the skirts of Sherwood Forest and
warned him of the peril into which he was about to
run. The Father made for Harwich, where he was
lucky enough to find a boat.
Greenway came back to London, where, in a new
disguise, he hoped to escape pursuit. One day he
mixed with a crowd of people in the street, who were
reading a proclamation for his arrest. One man in
the crowd began to eye him sharply; and on his moving
off uneasily this fellow followed him, and, seizing hint
by the arm, exclaimed, " You are known; I arrest you
in the King's name; you must go with me before the
Council at Whitehall." Very quietly saying there was
some mistake, the Jesuit offered to go with him; and
they walked on together, chatting, until they came to




144       HER MAJES TY'S TOWER.
a deserted street, when Greenway sprang upon the
fellow, threw him down, and got away. He hid himself for a few days in Essex, and then took boat for
Flanders, which he safely reached.
Short shrift was given to the prisoners. Digby, Robert Winter, Grant, and Bates were taken from the
Tower and hung near Paul's Cross; while Fawkes,
Kay, Rokewood, and Tom Winter were' drawn on
hurdles, hung, and boweled in Palace Yard.
The Powder Plot was over; but the Jesuit agents
of Spain were still to seek.
CHAPTER XX.
SEARCH FOR GARNET.
IF Garnet and Oldcorne had chosen to escape beyond
sea, they could easily have found the means. The
Council would have been glad to see them go; for the
flight of Garnet, as a broken and ruined man, would
have been more than evidence of his guilt; it would
have been a public confession that his mission from the
King of Spain had failed.
Cecil drew a clear distinction between Garnet as a
Spanish agent and Garnet as a Catholic priest. In the
first of these characters he was an outcast; in the
second he was a citizen, bound to obey the law. Cecil
and Northampton were eager to prove that the old
Spanish policy was a failure; and such a proof the
Prefect was determined not to give.
Hence, when Greenway, dressedin his satin suit, rode
off with Bates from Coughton, Garnet and the ladies




SEARCH FOR GARNET.              145
kept in their rooms, avoiding strangers, and being
served by their faithful people, until the news arrived
that Digby was overtaken by the hue and cry near
Dudley. Digby, who was weak of tongue, would be
forced to speak, and the Prefect felt that Coughton
was no longer a place in which he could safely hide.
The country was up in arms, and every house suspected
of having a Catholic mistress was certain to be searched.
Where could he and his females hide until the uproar
passed? While he was scheming, Oldcorne arrived
from Hendlip Hall with an invitation for himself and
train; when he moved, together with Ann Vaux and
his servant Little John, to Mrs. Abington's friendly
house.
Hendlip HIall, a Tudor house of vast extent, which
stood on high ground and swept the country for many
miles, had been recently built by Thomas Abington,
on plans supplied by Little John, as a hiding-place for
priests. Almost every room in the pile had a recess,
a passage, a trap-door, and a secret stair. The walls
were hollow, the ceilings false. The chimnevs had
double fiues,-a passage for the fire, and a second for
the priest. One hollow in the wall was covered with
most cunning art,-a narrow crevice, next to the fireplace, into which a reed was laid from Mrs. Abington's
bedroom, so that soup and wine could be passed by her
into the recess, without the fact being noticed from any
other room. Except the builders and the Jesuits, no
one had a key to the whole maze of secrets; but the
local gentry were aware that the Hall had been contrived for the concealment of priests; and when the
proclamation against the Jesuits came out, Sir Henry
Bromley, of Holt Castle, an active justice of the peace,
was not surprised to receive an order from the Council
to search the house. IIis orders were minute. Ile
SER. II.          13




146       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
was to surround the Hall with his men, to set a guard
at every door, to suffer no one to come in, no one to go
out, until the priests were found. The servants were
to be watched by day and night, to see that they carried no food into strange places. The dining-room
was to be carefully examined, and the wainscot pulled
down to see if any passage lay beyond. The cellarfloors were to be broached. Every room in the house
was to be measured, so as to see whether the lower
apartments corresponded with the upper in length and
breadth. Even the chimney-stacks were to be pierced
and probed.
The searchers came upon Mrs. Abington with so
much secrecy and suddenness that the priests and
their servants had to run like rats into their holes.
Garnet and Oldcorne crept into the crevice near the
fireplace, from which the reed for passing soups and
wine conducted into Mrs. Abington's room. Chambers and Little John, their servants, hid themselves in
a kind of cupboard. No preparation for their stay in
these hiding-places had been made. The priests' recess was nearly filled with books and lumber, and the
only food which it contained was some pots of niarmalade. The servants had no food at all, and their
den was stuffed with what Bromley calls "Popish
trash."
When the justice showed his warrant from  the
Council, Mrs. Abington assured him that no one was
in hiding at Hendlip. Abington, her husband, was
then firom home; but, on his coming to the Hall, he
confirmed the statement of his wife, adding that he
knew nothing of Father Garnet personally, and had
not seen Father Gerard for several years. Bromley
was surprised; but, his orders being strict, he proceeded to search the house, to measure the rooms, and




SEARCH FOR GARNET.               147
to count the beds. With a list of the family in his
hand, he passed through every chamber, noticing
which was occupied and which was not. Ile found
more beds in the rooms than guests; and, on carefully
testing the condition of these beds, he found that some
of those which were said to be unused were warm.
Mrs. Abington kept her room, in anger at the search
being made. Bromley would have had her quit the
Hall while his troops were there; but she refused to
go, and he dared not turn a lady of her quality-the
sister of so great a man as Lord Monteagle-out of
doors. He could not guess her reason for so obstinately shutting herself up in a single room,-eating
there, drinking there, sleeping there, day and night.
But after some days of careful watch had been kept
in every room —except the one in which Mrs. Abington lay-a panel in the wainscot opened, and two
specters stepped into the hall. The ghosts were Chambers and Little John, whom Bromley took to be the
Jesuit and his man. Mrs. Abington pretended not to
know them; but the facts were soon discovered; and
the search was then continued for their masters with
a warmer hope.
The crevice in which Garnet and Oldcorne lay was
low and strait; and, being filled with books and furniture, the Fathers could neither stand on their feet
nor lie down at length. Their flesh began to swell
and their bones to ache; they could hear the searchers
tapping at the walls; and, from their talk and laughter
as they called to each other, they learned that Chambers and Little John were caught. "We were very
merry and content within," said Garnet afterward,
when describing the scene to Ann Vaux, "and heard
the searchers every day most curious over us, which
made me think the place would be found."




148       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
But, as day after day slid past without result, the
magistrate, after setting a watch in every room and
corridor, rode home to Holt Castle on his own affairs,
for the sake of a little rest; and while he was absent
from TIendlip, more precise and positive news of Oldcorne being hid in Mrs. Abington's house was received
from Worcester jail.
Humphrey Littleton was being tried for his life in
that city; and this poor fellow, whose only crime had
been a desire to command a troop of horse against the
Dutch, was highly sore against his old confessor. On
quitting the gangs at Dunchurch, Humphrey sent a
pressing prayer for Oldcorne to join him at once and
tell him what he should now do; but the Jesuit, feeling safe at Hendlip, and hearing that the shires were
up in arms, declined to come; on which Humphrey
whimpered that his confessor had drawn him into rebellion and then left him to his fate. So long, however, as a chance of life remained to him, he held his
tongue; but when the day for hanging him at Worcester had been fixed, he sent his keeper to tell the
sheriff and justices that if his sentence were respited
he could render much service to the King. Of course
the respite was given, and a magistrate went to his
cell, where he heard from the prisoner's lips that Oldcorne was concealed in a recess at Hendlip, and that
one of the servants then in the jail could take a pursuivant to the spot.
Elated by this news, Sir Henry rode back to Hendlip,
and, renewing his search, soon found the hollow in the
wall. The soldier who slid the panel, seeing two men
darkly in the hole, ran back in fear, expecting them to
fire. A crowd was soon at the door, to whom Garnet
spoke, bidding them be quiet, and saying they would
yield themselves in peace. Bromley recognized Gar



SEARCH FOR GARNE T.             149
net from the proclamation. But the Father would not
give his name. "You are a learned man?" said Bromley. "Let me be taken before my Lord of Salisbury,"
answered Garnet: "he will know me."  Cecil's cunning courtesies had so far told upon the Prefect, that
he thought himself an object of the Secretary's grace.
Abington, arrested with the lie on his lips, was driven,
with the four Jesuits whom he had feloniously concealed, to Worcester in Bromley's coach. " I hoped
to have lodged you in a citizen's house," said Bromley
to the Father; "' but I cannot, and you must lie in the
jail."  Garnet started at the word: "A God's name, I
hope you will provide we have not irons, for we are
lame already, and shall not be able to ride after it to
London."  Bromley said he would see to it. IHe put
Garnet into a private room, and left him for a time.
On his return, he placed the prisoners in his coach
once more, and drove them to Holt Castle, where they
remained as guests in his house, well lodged, and sitting at table with Lady Bromley and her people, until
Candlemas, to recruit their strength. A banquet was
then given, and in the midst of dinner Sir Henry called
for wine, and, standing up, bareheaded, drank to the
King. The Prefect rose to his feet, and pledged the
health, as he says, " in a reasonable glass."
Ann Vaux and Mrs. Abington were left at IIendlip
Hall.
At length the cavalcade set out from Holt Castle.
"I parted froim- the gentlewomen, who were very kind
to me," wrote the Jesuit, " as also all the house."  The
journey was made by easy stages, and a treacherous
kindness met them at every turn. From  Bromley,
Garnet heard that it was by Cecil's express command
that he was used so well. He rode the best horse in
the company. He traveled at the King's expense. I-Ie
13*




150       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
halted when he pleased, and ate and drank of the best.
On the road he met, as it seemed by chance, Dean
Abbott and Dean Barlow, two of the court divines.
They had a long talk together at an inn, and Garnet
was struck by the air of respect which the two Deans
put on. Yet these divines were the bitterest enemies
of his Order and his Church. When Bromley arrived
in London with his charge, he lodged the Prefect in
the Gate house, near Whitehall, Abington in the Fleet,
Little John and Chambers in the Tower.
On St. Valentine's eve Garnet was marched through
a crowd of people to the Council chamber of Whitehall,
where Cecil and Northampton received him with the
treacherous courtesy that had already thrown him off
his guard. When he knelt, they bade him stand up.
When he began by protesting his innocence of Catesby's
plot," I wish," said Cecil, mildly, " you would not protest so earnestly, since we have certain proof." With
smiling courtesy Cecil inquired his opinion about
equivocation, about the doctrine of excommunication,
and about the Pope's dispensing power. "You see,
Mr. Garnet," he insinuated, "we deal not with you in
matters of religion, as of your priesthood, or of the real
presence." He only asked a question about the oath.
Garnet was pleased, as he wrote to Ann Vaux, " to be
accounted a traitor without, and not within, the plot."
But he was cautious in what he said. To Cecil's question, whether it was held by Catholics to be lawful to
take up arms against the King, he answered that no
one could rise against his prince unless that prince
were excommunicated by the Pope. He thought King
James was not excommunicate; and, even if he were
so, he declared that no one could proceed against him
without the Pope's express command. A Catholic
could only rise against heretics. Being pressed to say




SEARCH FOR GARNET.              151
whether the English were not held to be heretics, he
answered, " The religion is heretical: of the persons I
cannot j udge." Cecil put the question, " May the Pope
excommunicate our King?"  Garnet replied by the
evasion, " The Pope is successor to St. Peter, to whom
Christ said, Pasce ores meas, and so he may excommunicate Kings."  Cecil urged him to say " our King;"
but he refused to do so, as he alleged, "out of reverence."  " Could the Pope release subjects from their
obedience?"  "There is a canon, Nos Sanctorum,
wherein is such a rule, which lies beyond my power to
abridge." The questioning by Cecil and Northampton
lasted two hours, after which Coke attacked him for
one hour more. Garnet refused to name his partners
in the mission, and even to admit the names by which
he was known to his penitents.
Next day, St. Valentine's day, he was committed to
the Tower,-to a "horrible dungeon," probably the
Keep; but, after suffering two bad nights in his miserable den, he was removed, for a reason which he could
not guess, into Leslie's old chamber, on the lower tier
of the Bloody tower.
" I am allowed every meal," he wrote to Ann Vaux,
who had followed him to London, " a good draught of
excellent claret wine; and I am liberal with myself
and neighbors for good respects, to allow also of my
purse some sack; and this is the greatest charge I
shall be at."
Contrary to their nature, Coke and Waad, both
acting on a hint from court, were civil to the prisoner.
Even Popham's awful brow unbent when Garnet came
into the Powder-Plot Room. During one of his examinations, Garnet said he did not fear to die, for he
should die innocently, and death would be welcome.
"That were a pity," said Coke; "for you are a man




152       HER MAJoES TY'S TO WER.
to serve your King and country."  One day, when
Coke was talking of the time at Hendlip, Garnet said,
" If I had a calendar I could tell, for I think it was
St. Sebastian's day."  " You have saints for every
day?"  "We have for the most part," answered Garnet. "Well," quoth Coke, "you shall have no place
in the calendar."  "I am not worthy of a place in
the calendar,'' said Garnet; "but I hope to have a
place in heaven."  Waad rallied him  about Mrs.
Brooksby's child, born at White Webbs; but Popham came to his defense by saying that Brooksby,
her husband, lived in the house. Brooksby was bald,
and Coke could not resist the opportunity of saying
that the baby was seen with a shaven crown.
Once, indeed, Garnet was drawn by these treacherous pleasantries into making what he thought a serious
offer to the King. Waad was saying, what he knew
to be in Cecil's mind, "The Jesuits' Order shall be
dissolved upon this as the Ten-mplars' was;" to which
the Prefect answered, " Private faults do not prejudice
the whole." " The Jesuits shall now all out of England," added Sir William. Garnet then made his
offer: "If the King would grant free liberty to other
Papists, I will presently send away all Jesuits."  Popham started. "That is more than you can do?" he
urged. "I will try," said the Prefect, making to his
judge a most dangerous confession of his power over
that band of outlaws.
Well lodged, well fed, with plenty of sack and
claret, with civil judges and obsequious keepers,
Garnet was highly pleased with what was going on.
If he could have his "nmorning delight," he wrote
to tell Ann Vaux, he should be happy. What his
" morning delight" was, we can only guess: the lady
knew, no doubt.




END OF THE ENGLISH  JESUITS.  153
An obliging keeper carried his letter to Ann; and
in less than a week after it was sent, Ann Vaux was
herself a prisoner in the Tower.
CH-APTER XXI.
END OF THIE ENGLISH JESUITS.
THE whole group of English Jesuits were now in
charge of Sir William Waad.
Father Fisher was in the Keep, on the walls of
which he inscribed his name. Garnet and Oldcorne,
after passing some fifty hours in a dark hole, had been
placed in adjoining rooms under Raleigh's lodgings
in the Bloody tower. George and Little John were
thrown into separate dungeons, dismal and far apart.
Abington alone was in the Fleet.
But where was Father Robarts all this while? This
Father, the companion of Fawkes in Vinegar IIouse,
was taken, as it were, in the fact. His guilt was evident. No jury could have doubted for a moment that
he knew of the mine being laid. Near him, in his
room, a quantity of Popish books and papers had been
seized. These papers were of moment, and in the
first hours of their seizure they had been freely used
by Coke. Yet from the night of Fawkes's arrest the
Father and his papers disappear from view. Robarts
was afterward seen at large; but what became of him
during those five months in which Cecil and Northampton were routing and destroying the Jesuit conspirators, no soul can tell. This sudden disappearance of a
man who had come direct from Rome to stand by the




154       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
side of Fawkes, is one of the darkest mysteries of that
mysterious time.
One day, a keeper, of whom Garnet thought he had
made a friend by giving him a little sack and a
little coin, told the Prefect as a secret that his comrade, Father Oldcorne, lay in the adjoining room.
Garnet listened to his words, and then the man, encouraged to go on, pointed to a slide in the wall, and
told him that on pushing it back he might converse
with his friend. But the thing must be done with care,
as keepers might be about who were unfriendly to him,
and then the panel would be nailed up. Garnet tried
the panel, and found his keeper right. Oldcorne was
there; and the two Jesuits, after a short prayer in
Latin, made confessions to each other, beating their
hands the while upon their hearts.
TWO spies, named Forsett and Locherson, had been
so placed by Waad that they could hear the two priests;
and tile main part of their conversation was taken
down by these spies. " I had a note from Rokewood,"
they heard Garnet say (Thomas Rokewood was a brother of Ambrose), "and he telleth me Greenway is
gone.... I had another from Gerard, that he meaneth
to go over to Father Persons..... I think Mrs. Ann
is in the town; if she be, I have writ a note, that my
keeper may repair to her, and convey me anything unto
her, who will let us hear from all our fiiends. I gave
him an angel yesterday,... and he took it very well,
with great thanks; and now and then at meals I make
very much of him, and give him a cup of sack, and
send his wife another, and that he taketh very kindly.... You should do well now and then to give him a
shilling, and sometimes send his wife somewhat....
He did see me write to Mr. Rokewood."  The talk
was long and curious; for the two Jesuits had not seen




END OF THE ENGLISH JESUITS.  155
each other since they arrived in town. " I must needs
confess White Webbs," said Garnet, who had at first
denied being there; "but I will answer it thus, —that
I was there, but knew nothing of the matter." Oldcorne
spoke in a lower tone, and the spies could not always
catch his words. " Mr. Attorney," Garnet went on to
say, " told me, very friendly, that he would make the
best construction of my examination to the King, and
do me good. If I can satisfy the King, it will be well;
but I think it not convenient to deny that we were at
White Webbs..... They pressed me to be there in
October last, which I will by no means confess; but I
will tell them I was not there since Bartholomew's
tide; neither will I tell them of my knowledge of any
of the servants there, for they may examine and perhaps torture some of them, and make them yield to
some confession..... I am persuaded I shall wind
myself out of this matter." Poor fellow! A noise
was now heard in the passage, for the spies had learned
enough for the day; and Garnet was heard to say in
a whisper to Oldcorne, "Hark you-hark you —Mr.
Lieutenant! Make a hawking and spitting while I
shut the door."
Two days later, the keeper to whom Garnet had
given his money and his wine made a motion that the
coast was clear; on which Garnet slid back the panel
and held a second confidential chat with Oldcorne.
" They charge me," said Garnet, "with some advice
in the Queen's timle for blowing up the Parliament
House with powder..... I told them at that time it
was lawful, but wished them to save as many as they
could that were innocent." Here was the evidence that
Cecil and Northampton needed for his condemnation.
"They pressed me," Garnet added, "what noblemen
I knew that have written any letters to Rome....




156       HER MAJESTY' S TO WER.
Well, I see they will justify my Lord Monteagle of all
this matter."  What he said next was doubtful; for
a cock in the Lieutenant's garden under his window
gave a lusty crow. The spies reported that he mentioned the names of Lord Northumberland, Lord Rutland, and one other, though in what connection he referred to these noblemen they could not tell.
The two Jesuits held a long debate as to how they
should shape their confessions not to differ in the
main. Garnet complained that Oldcorne was rather
lax, not standing to the bargain they had made while
hiding at Hendlip. " They went away last time unsatisfied," said Garnet, speaking of Northampton and
the other commissioners, " and therefore we may expect the rack..... Mr. Attorney was about to write,
but when he had written these lines he gave it over,
and seemed to be angry, saying,'I had lost my credit,
for he had undertaken for me to the King.'"' The spies
reported that Garnet spoke much of a gentlewoman,
and said that if he were charged with her he would excuse her coming with him; but how he was to do it
they could not plainly hear him say. They made a
noise, as if some one were coming, on which Garnet
asked Oldcorne to take a shovel and rattle the coals
while he closed the dividing door.
These secret conferences, overheard by spies, continued for a week. In one of his brief confessions to
his fellow-priest, Garnet admitted having drunk so
much that he had twice been obliged to be put to bed.
Oldcorne mentioned that he had heard from some one
that their servants were being questioned; when Garnet
replied that his own man, Little John, would never
confess to anything against him. While he was using
these words, this faithful servant, broken by his fear
of the rack, was dying in another cell.




END OF THE ENGLISH JESUITS.  157
UTp to the previous day Little John's strength had
not been tried. Being asked in the ordinary way how
he came to H-Iendlip, he refused to say; he knew neither
Garnet nor Oldcorne; and though he had known Chambers for some years, he could not tell them whether he
was Oldcorne's man or not. But on his thumbs being
tied together, and his body being raised by a beam,
he instantly gave up his master's name. This clever
architect could not bear the torture, and while his
limbs were stretched he answered every question they
chose to put. Ile had served Father Garnet from the
date of the Essex rising. He had been with him often
at White Webbs. He went with him down to Coughton,
where he heard him say mass before the insurrection
broke out, and afterward to Hendlip Hall, where Garnet and Oldcorne dined and supped with Mr. and Mrs.
Abington every day until the search began. These
were the confessions of which Oldcorne had heard
some hints; but Waad, who thought he could tell
much more, told the lay Jesuit that his next examnination should be taken on the rack.
The threat sufficed. Next day Little John complained of sickness, when his keeper lent him a chair
to sit on and a knife to cut his meat. The broth for
his dinner, he said, was cold; and, feeling very faint,
he begged the keeper to put it for a moment on the
fire in an adjacent room. So soon as the man was
gone he ripped himself open with his knife, and, gathering up the straw about his knees, sat still and bled
until the keeper came. Seeing his prisoner covered
with straw and dabbled with blood, the man ran off
to the Lieutenant, whom he found at table with his
guests, and gave the alarm; on which Waad and the
gentlemen who were dining with him rushed to the
suicide's cell. The Jesuit was gone past hope, and the
SER. II.           14




158       HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
only speech they could draw firom him was that he had
killed himself in fear of the rack, lest in his weakness
and his agony he might be tempted to betray the lives
of men who had always been his friends.
A brave man, worthy of a nobler fate!
Ann Vaux was no less brave. In following Garnet
to London and taking lodgings near the Tower, she
knew the dangers into which she ran. About the time
of her arrival, her house at White Webbs was searched,
and her servant, James, was seized. Tied on the rack,
this servant told the story of her life in Enfield Chase,
-her false names, her priestly guests, her dangerous
visitors; yet for two or three weeks the Council allowed
her to remain at large, and to correspond with her
confessor in the Bloody tower. She sent in parcels of
linen and boxes of marmalade. Garnet asked her for
money to pay his fees, and he told her she must come
to his keeper's mother for instructions how to act. If
she came to the Lieutenant's garden, near his window,
she could see him, though she must not try to speak.
He told her to get some of the Society's money if she
could, as he wanted to buy beds "for James, John,
and Harry, who have been tortured." This note-and
much that followed it-was sent by a private hand;
but the Lieutenant seems to have seen it before it
passed the gate.
Ann Vaux, arrested and committed to the Tower,
was sharply questioned as to her residence at White
Webbs, and the gathering of conspirators beneath her
roof. She answered boldly, confessing that Catesby,
Winter, and Tresham had been her guests, and frequently at her table; that she had gone with Lady
Digby to St. Winifred's Well; that she was at Coughton
on the 1st of November last. But not one word could
be drawn from her against the Jesuits. She would not




END  OF THE ENGLISH JESUITS.  159
say what priests were at the Well. She had heard no
prayer, 1no mass, at Coughton. Told that Garnet had
confessed the plot, she expressed her sorrow and surprise, as he had tade to her many protests to the contrary. When they found her useless as a witness, they
remembered her noble birth and set her firee.
Nine days later, Ann sent to the Tower a pair of
spectacles, wrapped in a bit of paper, on which were
written, in plain black ink, these harmless words, "I
pray you prove whether these spectacles do fit your
sight;" but, wheJn this piece of paper was held before
a fire, the text of a letter, written in orange-juice, came
out. She told the prisoner that Coke, at supper-time
on Saturday night, had spoken of him. He had said
that Garnet, feigning to be sick, had gone to his
chamber, where his keeper saw him take a letter from
a box of marmalade, just then come in, and burn it.
lie had also said that Garnet had confessed to his
knowledge of the powder, though he still denied any
practice in it. She told him that the box and paper
were firom her hands. She was glad they reached him.
The spectacles and scrap were from her; and if they
came to him safely, then other of his friends would
write, and steps could be taken to supply his room.
She added, "For myself, I am forced to seek new
friends; my old are wearied of me. I beseech you,
for God's sake, advise me what course to take. My
hope is you will continue your care of me, and commit
me to some that will for your sake help me. To live
without you is not life, but death. Now I see my loss,
I am. and ever will be yours; and so I humbly beseech
you to account me. Oh that I might see you 1"
On this letter being read by Coke, the writer was
again arrested, and her house examined, when a heap
of relics, altar-stuff, and priestly trappings was dis



160       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
covered. She said they belonged to her sister and herself. She confessed that Father Garnet had lived with
her at White Webbs; that her cousin, Frank Tresham,
had often come to see them; but she declared that the
Jesuit had always counseled him to be patient in his
griefs. The notes of this second examination were
sent by Coke to Cecil.
As nothing could be learned from Ann Vaux, the
government were forced to make use of the conversations which had been overheard by their spies in the
Bloody tower.
Oldcorne was carried into the Powder-Plot Room
and charged by the commissioners with having held
a clandestine conversation with Garnet in the Bloody
tower. Startled by the announcement, Oldeorne confessed that he had spoken with his friend through the
door, and, being pressed by Coke, admitted details
which were fatal to his comrade and himself. He was
often at White Webbs, where he had met with Garnet,
Gerard, and many more; but Garnet had told him in
the Tower that he would never confess to being at
White Webbs. Garnet had also told him, in the Tower,
that he had taken the lead ill those prayers at Coughton, which in public he had strenuously denied.
Garnet was now brought in and questioned. Secret
conference with Oldcorne! Never. Iie had not seen
his fellow-prisoner; had never exchanged a word with
him. When shown the paper signed by Oldcorne, he
said it was all a lie; that Oldcorne might accuse him,
but he would never accuse himself. On being threatened with the rack, however, he confessed to the main
facts; and then he was sent to trial under a special
commission, consisting of Sir Leonard Halliday, Lord
Mayor, the four Catholic Earls to whom Cecil had
read Monteagle's letter (Nottingham, Northampton,




END OF THE ENGLISH JESUITS.  161
Suffolk, and Worcester), Sir John Popham, and some
others. The trial took place in Westminster Hall; the
King was present behind a curtain, and the Lady Arabella looked on the scene from a private box.
Oldcorne had been already tried, condemned, and
executed.
Garnet's trial (March, 1606) was a form only, for he
had been already tried in secret and condemned to die.
The trial lasted some hours; Garnet defended himself
with subtilty and spirit; and Northampton made a
long and scurrilous attack on the Jesuits in a speech,
which he afterward printed in London and explained
away in Rome.
From the Tower gates the Jesuit was carried to
Ludgate Hill, in front of St. Paul's Cathedral, where
a gallows had been built for him. A multitude of
people came to see him suffer, and, like many a worse
man than himself, he made a devout end. The injury
which he had done to Ann Vaux was on his mlind to
the last, and he spoke some words on the scaffold to
clear her fame.  " There is an honorable gentlewoman," he said, not aloud to the people, but in a
low, sad voice, to those about him, "who hath been
much wronged by report, for it is suspected and said
that I should be married to her, or worse. I protest
the contrary. She is a virtuous gentlewoman; and for
me a perfect virgin."  He prayed for the King and
Queen. He said he had held out in denial, because he
thought the Council had no proof against him. He
now confessed his fault, and hoped that the Catholics
would fare no worse for his sake. As lie was saying
his prayer, " Maria Mater gratie, Maria Mater misericordive," the cart was drawn from beneath his feet.
14*




162       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE CATHOLIC LORDS.
WHILE Cecil and Northampton were employed in
driving and seizing the priestly members of the Plot,
they were not unmindful of those Catholic peers who,
from their name and faith, could not help being the
most acceptable of Englishmen in the court of Spain.
Such peers as Montagu, Mordaunt, Stourton, and
Northumberland were counted in their several ways,
by foreign princes, most of all by Philip the Third, as
the living force of the Catholic cause,-the men by
whom the country would be drawn at some filture time
into what they called the ancient family union of the
Church. These peers might be out of favor; but men
who had half the population of England at their back
could never be out of power.
Cecil and Northampton had to show the Duke de
Lerma that a foreign minister who counted on these
Catholic lords was counting on a bundle of broken
reeds.
The facts which came out in the earliest questioning
of Fawkes and Winter in the Tower enabled them to
take defensive measures against these lords without
appearinig to go beyond the stern necessities of the
case. Fawkes had lived in the household of Lord
Montagu, Kay in that of Lord Mordaunt. Stourton,
who lived in Clerkenwell, was married to Frances
Tresham, a sister of " Cousin Frank."  Catesby was
known to have warned Stourton and Mordaunt against
coming to the House of Lords. Percy was not only




THE CATBOLIC LORDS.            163
a kinsman and servant of Northumberland, but was
known to have supped with him at Sion on Monday
night. Such facts, as they came out one by one, excited the public mind; but Cecil, in giving orders to
restrain the four great Catholic peers, took every
opportunity of hinting that he meant them well. At
first they were confined to their several houses; then
some of them were removed to the houses of aldermen
and justices of the peace; but in less than eight weeks
after the arrest of Guy Fawkes they were all committed to the Tower.
Anthony Maria Browne, second Viscount Montagu,
of Cowdray in Sussex, was a youth of thirty-three, a
master of many manors, colleges, and farms, and the
husband of Lady Jane, a daughter of Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset, the eminent poet and Lord High
Treasurer of England. He lived in Montagu Close,
the great Priory of St. Mary Overies, near London
Bridge, a pile which had been given by Henry the
Eighth to his grandsire, the first Lord Montagu of his
line. The Priory was Church property, and when the
Brownes became Catholic under Mary it was hoped
they would cease to hold an estate which belonged to
God. In fact, the old Viscount had become strict in
his principles; he had married Maud Dacre; he had
called his grandson and heir "Maria;" but he stuck
to Montagu Close as firmly as though he had been
the laxest heretic in the realm.
The case against Anthony Maria, Viscount Montagu, was ugly enough under any explanation, and he
had the misfortune to give more than one explanation
of the leading facts. The points which told most
against him were that Guy Fawkes had been one of
the servants near his person, that Catesby had given
him some hint of what would occur when the King




164       HER MIAJESTY'S TOWER.
was seated on his throne, and that he had proposed
to be absent from his place in Parliament on the opening day.
To the first point he answered that Fawkes was
placed by his grandfather in his household when he
mnarried, that he was then a boy under nineteen, and
that Fawkes was in his service only about four months.
But he could not say that he had never seen him since
that time. On pressure, he confessed that Fawkes,
after the first Viscount's death, had slept in his house
and served at his table. The explanation was that his
steward, one Spencer, a kinsman of "the miserable
fellow," had given him a few days' lodging inll Montagu Close, and, while he was staying there, had
turned his service to account. All this took place
twelve years ago, and since that time he had scarcely
ever seen or thought of him.
To the second point he answered that he met with
Catesby in the Strand by accident on the Tuesday
before All Saints' Day, as he was going to the Savoy
to dine; that the conspirator gave him no warning to
absent himself from Parliament; that their speech
was only general, as to the cause of his being absent
in the country. But the very next day he corrected
the date on which these dangerous speeches had been
held in the Strand into the Tuesday fortnight before
All Saints' Day,-a date which he could fix, he said,
firom the fact that he was dining in the Savoy with his
aunt, Lady Southampton.
To the third point he answered that he proposed to
be absent from London on the opening day by the
King's good leave, and not otherwise,-a leave which
he hoped to procure through the Earl of Dorset, his
father-in-law. If this leave could not be obtained for
him, he meant to be in his place. The old Viscountess




THE CA THOLIC LORDS.            165
Montagu (poor Maud Dacre) knew about it; for on
telling her of his plan for going down into the country
she had begged him not to go, unless he could first
get leave of absence fiom Parliament, as the hard
riding would be too much for his health.
From Sir Thomas Benlnet's house he was carried to
the Tower; but for the sake of Lady Jane, if not for
his own, the Council dealt with his inconsistencies in
a tender spirit. Brought before the Star Chamber, he
was condemned to a fine of four thousand pounds and
imprisonment during his Majesty's pleasure. In the
end he compounded for his fine, and lay in the Tower
about forty weeks.
Henry Mordaunt, fourth Baron Mordaunt of Drayton Manor in county Northants, and of Turvey in
county Beds, was descended on his mother's side from
the old Catholic family of Darcy, one of whose mrembers had forfeited his honors by the Pilgrimage of
Grace. Mordaunt was a close friend of Catesby, but,
being a Catholic of the old English school, he could
not be intrusted with the secrets of his plot. He was
a weak and pliant creature, whom the haughty Catesby
had to manage and despise. Some one had proposed
to swear him. " Not for a church full of diamonds!"
cried the man who knew him best. If Mordaunt were
told the secret, even on the Primer, Catesby was of
opinion that he could not keep it. Easy and yielding,
he was used, like the two Littletons, by that mastering
spirit, who induced him to permit his servants to be
employed in raising men, under cover of a design to
fight in the Archduke's cause.  Two Irish fellows,
named O'Ferrall, who had been tempted to enlist,
gave evidence against Mordaunt's man. More than
one of the prisoners confessed that Catesby had given
some hints to his friend; and Mordaunt had made




166        HER  MAJES TY'S TOWER.
excuses for not being presenot with his peers, on the
ground that his conscience would not allow him  to
attend the King at church.
Turvey, his ancient seat in Beds, was a notorious
nest of Jesuits. Kay had lived in his house, and Kay's
wife was the teacher of his children. All these things
were agailnst him. Brought before the Star Chamber,
Mordaunt was sentenced to a heavy fine, with imprisonrent during the King's pleasure; and, after six months
of rather sharp privation in the Tower, he was liberated
on conditions which left him a broken man. In succeeding reigns the Mordlaunts rose again, —chiefly ill
the person of Henry's grandson, the meteoric Earl of
Peterborough; but for twenty years to come his utmost
care was needed to preserve in his family that lordship
of Turvey which had been their own since the reign of
Henry the First.
Edward Stourton, ninth Baron Stourton of Stourton,
in county Wilts, was the second son of that wretched
Charles, Lord Stourton, who had been hung, in a silken
cord on account of his quality, for the murder of his
neighbors, the two Ilargils, father and son. Edward,
then a boy, was said, like his elder brother John, to
have been privy to the crime; but the lads were spared
on account of their youth; and, after eighteen years
had passed over the public memory, the two brothers
were restored in blood, in order that John might sit,
as one of the old Catholic peers, on the bench which
was to condemn  Mary, Queen of Scots, to death. This
John, eighth Lord Stourton, died without issue; and
Edward, his partner in suspicion, came into the honors
of his race.
A dark and gloomy fanatic, with hands not firee from
blood, and weighted with the curse of his fatller's
shame, this Edward, ninth Lord Stourton, had lived a




THE  CATIIOLIC LORDS.             167
lonely life, the companion and the victim of Inonks and
priests. Lady Stourton was Frances, a daughter of
Sir Thomas Tresham, and therefore a sister of 1" Cousin
Frank."  Their London house was in Clerkenwell,a part of the famous priory of that place; for the Stourtons, like the Brownes, had no objection to receive
Church lands
Brought before the Star Chamber, Stourton, who
could neither deny his intimacy with Catesby and
"' Cousin Frank" nor explain to the court his reason
for absenting himself on the opening day, was sentenced to a thousand pounds fine and imprisonment
during pleasure in the Tower. This fine was compounded, and the prisoner released; compounded, not
paid; for two years after his release fiom the Tower
the fine was returned in a draft of outstanding public
debts. What was due to private persons had been paid
to the uttermost coin.
Compounllding for fines was a curious and immoral
traffic, and, being conducted with the utmost secrecy,
was understood by few. Lord Stourton happened to
be one of those few, his wife being a Tresham, and one
of a family which had been driven by their misfortunes
into studying the mysteries of this immoral trade.
When Cousin Frank went out with Essex into the
Strand, he fell into so much danger that every one expected-him to share the fate of Cuffe and Lea. But the
Treshams were rich, and some great ladies in the court
were poor. A communication was made to Sir Thomas,
in a roundabout way, on behalf of a young lady who
might be able to help his son. This young lady, the
daughter of no less a person than Lord Howard of
Walden, Constable of the Tower (afterward Earl of
Suffolk,-the same who event into the vault and jested
about the coal and wood), was represented as being




168       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
willing to plead for Frank, on certain trusts being executed. in her favor by the master of IRushton Hall.
Catherine Howard was then a child, too young to speak
with her Majesty on any subject more serious than a
toy; but her mother, Lady Howard, the sharpest intriguer living, had arranged with her lover, Sir Robert
Cecil, that this girl should some day be the wife of his
eldest son; and therefore it seemed right in the Secretary's eyes that Catherine should be provided with a
dowry out of traitors' lands. Sir Thomas, knowing
that the life of his son was in their power, consented
to lodge with a third party, not to be named in the
writings, certain bonds of large amount, on the understanding that these bonds were to be handed over to
certain "honorable persons" when a "matter" not
set forth in words was performed, and to be returned
to Sir Thomas in case that "matter" was not performed. How much money was paid to the young
lady by Sir Thomas remains a secret: one of the bonds
was drawn for twenty-one hundred pounds, and several
were for a thousand pounds apiece. The bribe was
so large that Sir Thomas always said the payment
crippled him for life.
Through some such channel as Lady Suffolk's daughter, Stourton compounded for his fine.
But the ruin of these three barons was of less importance to Cecil and Northampton than that of the great
northern Earl, the friend of Raleigh, the mairispring of
the war party, the future hope of the Catholics, and
the most powerful personage living beyond the Trent.




HARRY PERCY.               169
CIHAPTER  XXIII.
HARRY PERCY.
HARRY PERCY, ninth earl and twenty-first baron of
his line, had won his spurs of knighthood in the LowCountry war and in the Armada fight,-in which,
though a good Catholic, he had fought with heroic
fire against the Kiing of Spain. But his hope of
achieving a great career in arms had been quenched by
the many and unseemly quarrels into which his violence of temper led him.
Even when the flush of youth was gone, he had no
control over his tongue and pen, and at thirty he behaved like an overgrown boy in a public school. For
two years he had fought in the lines of Ostend with
credit, when his mutinous passions entrapped him into
an indecent broil with his commander, the illustrious
Vere, whom he wished to call out and fight. liHe
quarreled with his comrades, and separated from his
Countess. This lady, a sister of Lord Essex and of'
Lady Rich, was of a temper heated and unruly like
his own; and when they bickered in their golden halls,
Northumberland rode away firom her, engaged a mistress to live with him ill open shame, and hired a lodging for her near the court in order to provoke his wife.
Apart from an infirmity which he shared with his
ancestor and namesake, Harry Hotspur, Percy was a
gallant soldier and a princely friend.  Raleigh respected him as a companioll-in-arrns. Neither Pembroke nor Southampton rivaled him in his sympathy
for science and the liberal arts. Peele and Heriot were
SER. 11.          15




170        HER MIA JESTY'S  TO WER.
his constant companions.  Spenser sent him a sonnet,
and a copy of the Faery Queen.  Peele composed for
him his poem called " The Honor of the Garter;" and
IIeriot owed to his bounty that leisure for investigation which led to his discoveries in solar and stellar
science. It was said in Percy's praise that no scholar
ever turned disheartened from his door. Himself a
student of art and nature, he toyed with every subject
in its turnl, —with numbers, with music, with the starry
heavens, iwith alchemy, with the elixir of life. Bacon
looked to him as a patron of the new learning: "Your
great capacity and love toward studies and contemplations of a higher and nobler nature than popular (a
nature rare in this world, and in a person of your lordship's quality almost singular) is to me," wrote Bacon,
"a great and chief motive to draw my affection and
admiration toward -you."  In person, he was the soul
of honor; alld, if he could only have curbed his petulant tongue, he would have been one of the most perfect paladins in the English court.
The name, the valor, and the possessions of Percy
had pointed him out as Lord Protector in case thle
kidngdom should require such an officer on the Queen's
demise.  The whole north country would have rallied
to his flag; and the known wishes of the great Earl, as
to the coniing in of James, had done more to make his
entry pleasant thlan those of any other man.
The King, too well aware of his service, had hardly
crossed the border before lie called him to his Council
by a special act. Yet the lines were drawn betweeni
Cecil and Percy ftrom the opening day of the new reign;
and every slight that could be made to gall and wound
a spirit only too quick to see offeise was put on Percy
by his smiling and respectful adversary. Percy, who
had thought of findilg great employments under




HARRY PERCY                  171
James, was sore at heart, and, being sore at heart, was
certain to be loud of tongue. He talked to Bethune.
Ile inspired Watson with hope. Even if he had been
careful of his words, he could not have failed to be the
subject of conversation in taverns like the Hart's HI-orn,
in slums like Butcher Row; and he was far from careful of his words. The circle at White Webbs made
many inquiries about him. Once, indeed, they thought
of making him their general, in place of Stanley; but
his fanatical kinsman, who had come to think of godliness as a thing of fasting, whip-cord, and a horsehair
shirt, reported that the Earl had given up religion for
science and the worldly arts.  When Raleigh was arrested, Percy went down to Windsor Castle to defend
his chief; and, but for Cecil's fear of trying too much
at once, he would have been wrecked in the Arabella
Plot instead of in the Powder Plot.
So great a man could not be readily set aside, and
Percy was associated with the court in many offices of
grace. Hle was made Captain of the Band of Gentlemen Pensioners; he was clhosen as witness when Prince
Charles was created Duke of York; he bore the basin
when Princess Mary was christened. The Countess
of Northumberland was one of Mary's godmothers,the King's cousin, Lady Arabella, being the other.
Sion House, which Percy had previously rented from
the crown, was now settled on him by grant.
Still, he had little actual power; and after Raleigh's
trial and reprieve at Winchester he retired in weariness
of spirit from a world in which he could find no peace,
and tried to console himself with the intellectual delights of study, building, gardening, and the like.
The Lord of Wressil in Yorkshire, of Petworth in
Sussex, of Alnwick in Northumberland, of thirty other
manors, parks, and castles, he had scope enough for




172       HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
the indulgence of princely tastes. The Earl spent
much of his time at Sion, where he transformed the
dull monastic garden into a laughing lea of flowers,
among which he played with his four little ones,Algernon and Henry, Dorothy and Lucy; boys and
girls who were, each and all, to live remarkable lives,Algernon as tenth Earl of Northumberland, one of the
heroes of the Civil War; Henry as Lord Percy of Alnwick, the favorite cavalier of Queen Henrietta Maria;
Dorothy as Countess of Leicester, and mother of Algernon Sydney; Lucy as Countess of Carlisle, the
friend of Strafford and of Pym, and the subject of a
thousand rapturous songs.
Northumberland was clever, popular, and rich. Some
envied his reputation; many coveted his lands. Even
while he was training his plants and sporting with his
children on the lawns at Sion, his fate was drawing
him toward that dungeon which had been the dwelling
of so many of his race.
Most of the old fighting Percies had been prisoners
in the Tower. More than one had been murdered in
its chambers; and many of them had passed through
the Bye-ward gate to the block on Tower Hill. The
Beauchamp tower and the Bloody tower were dark
with the traditions of his house; and now another
tower on the Balliumn wall was waiting to receive her
guest and grow into sudden fame as the prison of Percy
the Wizard Earl.
Incapable of prudence, Northumberland had been
more than usually imprudent in his dealings with his
kinsman, Thomas Percy, the conspirator; for'he had
not only given him a place in the Band of Gentlemen
Pensioners, but had suffered him to enter on his duties
without taking the customary oaths. There he was
wrong, and wrong beyond excuse. Percy knew that




HARRY PERCY.                173
his kinsman disliked the King; he ought to have known
that he was a convert and a tool of the Jesuits. Such
a man was unfit for a post so near the:King, and, even
if he had been fit for such a post, he ought never to
have been admitted without the usual forms. The
great sum of money which Thomas Percy had brought
to London was the Earl's property, and Northumberland seems to have been careless in exacting from him
his vouchers and returns of rent. But the circumstance
of darkest note was that supper on Mondclay night, when
Fawkes rode down to report the official searching of
the vault. Fawkes had no sooner confessed to having
found his master at Sion, than the Earl was commanded
by the Council to keep his house. In vain he pleaded
in defense his secluded ways, his absence firom court,
his devotion to his books, his plants, his children, and
the innocent pleasures of a country life. Taken fiom
Sion, he was given in custody to Richard Bancroft,
Archbishop of Canterbury, and remained at Lambeth
Palace for twenty days, when he was carried down to
the Tower, in which he lay five months without being
either accused or heard.
At the end of June (1606) he was brought before
the Star Chamber, and accused (1) of wishing to put
himself at the head of the Papists and to procure their
toleration; (2) of admitting  Thomas Percy to be a
Gentlenlan Pensioner without taking the oaths. Four
additional articles were drawn, but they were only
variations of these two. The sentence was, that the
Earl of Northumberland should be fined in thirty
thousand pounds; that he should be deposed from the
Council, and removed from his Captaincy of the Pensioners; that he should cease to be Lord Lieutenant
of any shire; that he should be kept a prisoner in the
Tower for life. IIe raised a passionate cry against the
15*




174       HER MAJESTY'S TO WE.R.
justice of such a sentence; but the lords were deaf to
his wrongs, and Sir William Waad conducted him
once again to that gloomy fortress in which his father
had been slhot to death.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE WIZARD EARL.
A SPACIOUS and secluded house was found for Percy
in the Martin tower, on the northeast angle of the
Ballium wall,-a house which had been occupied before his time by Lord Rochfort and other gentlemen
connected with Anne Boleyn; which was occupied
after his time by Archbishop Sancroft and his fellowsufferers in the Church. The vaults of this mural
tower, which are exceedingly strong, were used during
many reigns as the royal jewel-house; and here occurred the desperate attempt of Colonel Blood to steal
the crovwn. Here also occurred the comicalities of the
Tower ghost. But the ghost which haunts the stairs
and terraces around the Martin tower is that of Harry
Percy, who lay in it for sixteen years, and whose quaint
garb, unusual studies, and' strange companionship
caused him to be known as " The Wizard Earl."
The terrace on the wall connecting his lodging with
the Brick tower and the Constable's tower is called the
Earl of Northumberland's Walk. Heriot's sun-dial,
fixed by that famous astronomer, is still to be seen on
the southern face of the Martin tower.
Percy's wild youth continued into his middle age,




THE  WIZARD EARL.             175
and his character was a puzzle to the wisest men.
Nobody could dispute his courage, his attainments, his
munificence; though every one could see that his
temper was bad, his learning fantastic, his conduct
suspicious. He was a student, a swordsman, a sorcerer;
a man given equally to cards, to science, and to pleasure; as prompt with his blade as he was saucy with
his tongue. But the scornful habit, which had wrought
him so much evil in his younger time, soon softened
when he came to reside in the Martin tower. Ilnjustice
acted on his mind in an unusual way; for he who could
hardly bear a prosperous fortune like a man of sense,
bore the miseries of a harsh and undeserved imprisonment with noble pride. The wife who could not live
under his roof at Sion and PetwTorth came to share his
cell in the Martin tower, where her pretty children
became the spoiled darlings, not of their father only,
but of every person in the Tower.
The Countess was but too familiar with her new and
dismal home,-the Tower. Stout Sir John Perrot, the
father of her first husband, died in one of its vaults.
The dust of her brother Robert, Earl of Essex, lay in
the dark little church under Develin tower. Many of
her brother's old friends and rivals-Raleigh, Cobham,
Grey-were daily seen in the garden and on the wall.
Her second husband was now a prisoner,-not to come
forth, though happily she could not know so much,
until long after she had worn out her life with care
and watching.
No man then lying in the Tower was kept a prisoner
on more flimsy pretexts than the Earl. His real offense
was being too great; his pretended crime was being a
kinsman of Thomas Percy. He had no more to do
with the Gunpowder Plot than with the Arabella Plot;
but, having a hot temper and a vast estate, his fellows




176        HER MAJESTY'S TO W.ER.
of the Council-board were anxious to stop his tongue
and to get his land. Such a fine as thirty thousand
pounds, he said, was never laid before on any subject
in any realm. It was a king's ransom,-equal to one
hundred and fifty thousand pounds in our present
coin.
When Percy urged that such a sum could not be
wrung from a private estate, the King was advised
to take his affairs in hand and try his skill in collecting rents. It was bad advice, —bad in law, and
bad in business; for the Star-Chamber sentence had
left the Earl's property intact, and the crown had no
legal right to levy the fine by seizure and distress.
But what was law to men like Cecil, Suffolk, and
Northampton, the three great peers who now ruled the
King?  The manors were seized, the farms were let
on lease, and the rents were collected by agents for the
crown. In vain the Earl protested.  " This method is
not used," he wrote: " my lands are spoiled, my houses
ruinated, my suits in law prejudiced, my officers imprisoned, my debts unsatisfied."  All this was true.
The King's receivers grew fat; but the King himself
got little of the spoil. These receivers were allowed
two shillings in every pound of rent, and, as they paid
their receipts into the county courts only once a year,
they had the use of his money for many months. To
get the place of a receiver of Northumberland's rents
was to get a good thing. "In all this provision for
them," cried the Earl, "I find not a thought of one
penny for either wife, child, or myself. There wants
nothing but strewing the land with salt."
The Countess came to court, and threw herself at
James's feet, as Lady Raleigh was then doing daily,
though with gentler passion and livelier hope; praying that his Majesty would not suffer the bread to be




THE WIZARD EARL.              177
taken from her children's mouths. James told her,
with far more kindness than his wont, that he would
never hurt her and her children. She was his old
friend's sister, dear to his heart for that old friend's
sake. She must rely upon him. Lady Northumberland
flew to the Martin tower with these gracious words;
and Percy, who thought his time had come, drew up a
statement and petition to the King, in which he asked
no more than leave to go home to his house in Petworth. " Hum," said James, in answer; " I must take
my own time."
While waiting on the King's leisure, which was long
in coming, Percy made the best of his crowded rooms.
He hired from Lord Carew, Master of the Ordnance,
the adjoining house-the Brick tower-as an occasional residence for his son Algernon, in whose young
face he loved to recall the heroes of his line. Lady
Dorothy was often with him. Lady Lucy came and
went, like a summer bird, bringing gleams of light
from the outer world into his cell. In that cell he
made a collection of books, globes, astrolabes, and
drew to himself a society of learned and ingenious
men. Thomas HIeriot came to live with him in the
Martin tower, and in the midst of his many embarrassments Percy never allowed the poor student's pension
to go unpaid. Walter Warner and Robert Hues were
also his constant visitors; and these three men of science were known in the Tower wards as the Earl of
Northumberland's Magi. John Dee, the astrologer,
came also to the Martin tower; where he met with a
host of scholars, such as Thomas Allen, Nathaniel
Torperley, and Nicholas Hill. To all these servants
of science the Wizard Earl was a bountiful patron
and enduring friend.
One comfort in a confinement which was long with



178       HER  IMA JE S TY'S TOW TER
out being always strict, lay in the occasional freedom
of his intercourse with Raleigh, in whose experiments
of the still-house he felt a warm and mystical interest;
hoping that the phials which held the Great Cordial
would one day hold the Elixir of Life.
All his wife's appeals to James were fr uitless. Solomon told the Countess he should like her husband to
prove that Thomas Percy had not given him notice of
the plot. "' Your Majesty, that is so great a scholar,"
answered Northumberland, with biting sarcasm, " cannot but know how impossible it is to prove a negative. "
At length, some change came over his affairs at
court, in a way which he had neither expected nor desired. As his children grew up, they fell into love with
other young people of their age and rank. Of course
they fell into love with persons whom their father
scorned as unworthy of alliance with the Percy blood.
Algernon was kneeling at the feet of Lady Anne Cecil,
grandchild of Lady Suffolk; but, on a match between
the youth and maid being proposed to the recluse in
the Martin tower, the Earl proudly exclaimed against
it, crying, " The blood of Percy would not mix with
the blood of Cecil, if you poured them into a dish."
In time, though not with Percy's consent and blessing,
that match of Algernon with Lady Anne took place.
The love-affairs of his daughter Lucy crossed him
even more than those of his son. This girl, whose incomparable beauty as a woman was the theme of a
dozen poets, from Waller to Carew, and the snare of
eminent men, from Strafford to Pym, was fluttering
into a first young love with the favorite, James IIay,
afterward Earl of Carlisle.  The Wizard raved and
stormed at her folly. What could a Percy have to do
with upstart curs like Hay?  Believing in his heart




THE  WIZARD EARL.                179
that Hay was following Lady Lucy for her money,as he heard, right truly, that Lady Suffolk was courting Algernon for his money, —he sent the Scotch favorite word that if she married any man without his
leave she should never get a penny from his purse.
But Hay, in love with a pair of bright eyes, and never
troubling himself to count the cost of his love, ran off
with this message to the girl, caught her up in his arms,
obtained her consent, and married her in a trice. The
King, who was present at their nuptials, which took
place at court, with a thousand gayeties and fooleries,eating the wine posset, throwing the left shoe, and runniiig at the ring, —made a bridal present to Lady Lucy
Hay of a promise for her father's enlargement from the
Tower.
But Lady Lucy found it an easier task to get a
pardon from the King than to induce her father to
accept it. Percy would not owe hlis liberty to HI-ay;
and whenl the order for his release was read to him,
the venerable Wizard, swearing he would not owe
thanks to Hay, went back to his books, his globes,
and his magi in the Martin tower.  That tower had
come to be his home. Lady Northumberland was
dead; his son was mlarried; his health was failing;
and he cared no longer for the glory and greatness of
the wvorld. JHis conlrade HIeriot was ill correspondence
with Kepler on things of higher moment than the intrignes of a court: on the laws of vision; on the cause
of rainbows; on the sun-spots, whichli he noticed before
they had been seen by Galileo; on the satellites of
Jupiter, which he was the first in England, perhaps in
Europe, to observe. IHe was busy with the theory of
ilumbers, to which Percy had given a good deal of his
time. IIn the face of' such studies, what to the Wizard
Earl were the rivalries of Buckingham and HIay?




180       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
The doors were open; but he would not go. The
Lieutenant informed him that he had orders to use
him with honor and to announce his departure with
saluting guns. Lord Percy and Lady Lucy, whom he
received in sorrow, as children who had lowered his
family pride, persuaded him that he ought to go down
to Bath for the benefit of his health. But he was long
in making up his mind to go. At length he allowed
himself to be put into a coach, and carried away from
his nightly lodging and his daily walk, under a joyous
salute of guns. But the old Adam was not dead in
his veins. On reaching his house, he heard that the
new Duke of Buckingham was driving about town in
a coach with six horses. Six horses! W~ ho was this
Villiers, that he should outbrave a Percy in magnificence? With a cry of contempt, the Earl commanded
his servants never to drive him through London with
less than eight horses to his coach.
On his return from Bath, he lived mainly at Petworth, with Heriot constantly at his side, laying up in
the library of that baronial seat the letters and papers
which in a new generation added so much to the glory
of English science.




A REAL ARABELLA PLOT.             181
CHAPTER XXV.
A REAL ARABELLA PLOT.
AT length the young lady, in whose name so many
gallant men had been accused of treason and committed to the Tower, was herself an offender against
the King, and a prisoner in the dungeon of her race.
For Lady Arabella Stuart had the presumption to
fall in love, and marry her lover, without the King's
consent,-an act of disobedience, in one so near the
throne, to bring her within the penalties of that law
which had been passed to punish her starless grandmother, Margaret Douglas, the sister of James the
Fourth.
No passage in the story of our royal house has a
more pathetic comedy than the tale of Arabella Stuart's
love for her young and graceless kinsman, William
Seymour; of her secret marriage to that cold and calculating paladin; of her sudden arrest and long imprisonment; of her romantic efforts to escape from
London; of her final separation from her lord, and
the train of evils which that escape and separation
brought upon the adoring wife.
This pair of lovers were descended from Henry the
Seventh, and had the turbulent Tudor blood careering
in their veins. Seymour was a grandson of Catharine
Grey, whose grandmother was Mary Tudor, Queen of
France; Arabella was a granddaughter of Margaret
Douglas, whose mother, Margaret Tudor, was the
Queen of Scots. Each of these personages stood too
near the throne for safety; and many of the keenest
SER. IT.           16




182        HER  MAJESTY'S TOWER.
critics of the court imagined that the young lady would
be one day Queen. " Some time," Elizabeth had been
heard to say, when speaking with the French ambassador's wife, "this child will be lady-mistress here,
even as I am."
When James the First came in, his cousin, a fair
young woman of twenty-eight summers, with round
blue eyes, soft oval face, arched brows, and ripples of
curling hair, was the Rosalind of a dull court,-tender
in spirit, young in wit, lightsome ill manner, full of
prank and jest. Without being much of a beauty, she
had not the less been thought, in her younger timne, a
most engaging and attractive girl. A good talker, a
fine musician, she was the delight of every house in
which she lived. As a princess of the royal blood, she
had been pursued by adorers. Princes had sought her
from north and south: the King of Poland, the Duke
of Parma, nay, Henri the Great, had dreamed of her
blue eyes and ripples of curling hair. "I should not
refuse the Princess Arabella of England," he remarked
to Sully, "if she were once declared heiress-presumptive." The stern necessities of the crown had doomed
this royal lady to live an unwedded life.
Arabella had always been an object of speculation
in foreign courts. She was a favorite in Rome and
Madrid; and her religious views were thought to be
rather Catholic in their bent. Philip regarded her as
a friend of Spain.
This tendency on the part of foreign kings to busy
themselves with her affairs was one chief cause of her
being watched with unsleeping care by Cecil; and,
now that Cecil was growing faint, by Suffolk and Northampton, with increasing fear. Lady Suffolk was anxious
to have no rival in Philip's cabinet, which a royal princess, married and having issue, could not fail to be,




A REAL ARABELLA PLOT.             183
whether she wished it to be so or not. A king's cousin,
growing old in her single state, might be a person of
the court, but she would not be a public power.
Enriched by the gold of Spain, Lady Suffolk had
nearly as strong an interest as the King himself in
compelling the Lady Arabella to live and die in her
unwedded bliss.
When Arabella had passed her thirty-fifth year, the
tKing, who had come to regard her settlement as a
standing jest, was rude enough to tell her she was now
free to marry anybody who would have her. She took
him at his word. Rosalind had seen Orlando in the
person of her young kinsman, William,-a youth of
twenty-three, a man of books and theorems,-cold,
sedate, and clever, given overmuch to pondering on
his birth, his poverty, and his family wrongs. For the
Seymours, grandsons of Catharine Grey, sister and
heiress of Queen Jane, inherited all the rights of that
popular idol; so that after the King's issue and the
Lady Arabella, William and his brother Edward, Lord
Beauchamp, were the nearest clainmants to the crown.
That Seymour could be moved by noble passion his
after-life in the Civil War, through which, as Marquis
of Hertford, he fought on the side of Charles the First,
abundantly made known. His offer to be put to death
instead of the King has covered his name with such
romantic light and color that the harsh and calculating
lover of Arabella Stuart appears in the story like a
different man.  But Seymour's childhood had been
spent in a bitter school. His family, one of the proudest
in England, was a wreck. His father was a child of
the Tower. His grandmother, Lady Catharine, died
under the brand of an illegal union. Nearly all his
kinsmen for a hundred years had fallen by the axe.
No man in the realm, not even of the Percy and the




184       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
Howard fanlilies, could claim so large a share in the
noble dust of St. Peter's Church. Under the flags of
that darksome pile lay the ashes of his kindred by the
male and by the female lines; of Edward, Duke of
Somerset, Lord Protector of England; of Thomas,
Lord Seymour of Sudeley, Lord High Admiral; of
Henry, Duke of Suffolk; of Lord Thomas Grey; of the
Nine-days' Queen; to all of whom he and his brother
Edward were immediate heirs. IIis grandfather, the
aged Earl of Hertford, had been ruined by a monstrous
fine. His father had been tainted in his birth, and
been compelled to fight in the courts of law for more
than thirty years in order to establish his mother's fame.
That father had passed away, worn out by rage and
sorrow, leaving his sons to the care of a feeble old man,
whose spirit had been broken more than forty years.
William, the younger son, with his fortunes all to
seek, could not foresee that his brother would die without issue and leave him heir. He was poor, and wanted
to be rich; obscure, and wanted to be great. lie
looked around him in the world, and saw no way in
which a younger son could rise so quickly as by marrying a royal bride.
When the court was at Woodstock, Seymour was at
Magdalen College, and in the leafy groves of that royal
park Rosalind and Orlando rambled unobserved, their
ages and their kinship covering them fiom the malice
of prying eyes and whispering tongues. The lady
thought she was free to love, and Seymour was sedate
beyond the warrant of his years. At thirty-six a lively
woman, who has lived among poets and adorers, is
pretty sure to be quick in feeling and susceptible to
fire. When Arabella rambled in the park of Woodstock, she was in the mood for love; and the youth of
twenty-three summers, seeing where the woman of




A REAL ARABELLA PLOT.             185
thirty-six was weak, found his way into her room, threw
himself at her feet, and made her an offer of his heart.
Such words had not been heard by her of late, The
poets praised her beauty, the courtiers extolled her
wit; but no one dared to speak to her of love, since it
had been always said at court that James would never
allow his cousin to enjoy the consolations of a wedded
life. She bent her round blue eyes upon him, and
raised the enamored youth into her arms.
Informed by spies of what was going on in Lady
Arabella's room, Northampton caused her gentlemanusher and her lady-in-waiting to be seized and committed close prisoners (March, 1610), while he placed
the lady herself in charge of Lord Knyvet, the man
who had arrested Fawkes in Parliament Place. Nothing could be proved against her, for nothing illegal
had as yet been done; and in some respects the rumors
which had got abroad came back to her in grace. The
King bethought him of her state; a woman debarred
the privilege of her sex; a royal princess, with a scant
provision and a load of debts. He sent her a box of
plate, he gave her a thousand marks to pay her people,
and he settled on her a pension of sixteen hundred
pounds.
But she was now in love, and money would not stay
the beatings of her heart. On Candlemas-day-seven
weeks after her first arrest-she received William Seymour in her private room at court, and pledged him
her troth in a way which, in her own opinion, made
her his lawful wife.
When the news of what they had done came out,
and Seymour was called before the Council to answer
for the outrage of betrothing himself to the King's
cousin without the King's consent, he treated the affair
with cool and provoking scorn. He was poor, he said,
16*




186       HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
and wanted means. He was a younger brother, he
said, and wanted rank. lie knew that the lady he
loved was great, and from her style of living he thought
she must be rich. As a young man, having his way in
the world to make, he felt justified in trying to win
her. But he did not mean to offend the King. He
fancied that she had her sovereign's leave to marry:
if his Majesty raised objections, he would proceed no
farther in the match. No contract had been made
between them, such as binds betrothed persons to each
other; nor had either the lady or himself ever dreamed
of proceeding to betrothal without the Kiing's consent.
The King was pleased with words so frank and loyal;
and, on Seymour promising to forego his suit, the
scandal died away. When quizzed about her youthful
adorer, the lady took the jest with a laughing grace,
and seemed to be more intent on masques than marriage. On the creation of IHenry as Prince of Wales,
a gallant masque was offered by the Queen, in which
Arabella, dressed in shells and corals, played a nymph
of the Trent. She was an admirable artist, and the
court was giddy with her praise. The young Prince
loved her; the Queen was always at her side; and, but
for Northampton and Lady Suffolk, the King himself
would hardly have treated her like a brute. So far as
money could soothe her grief, she had no reason to cry
out, for, in addition to his previous gifts, the King
made over to her a license to sell wines and usquebaugh
in Ireland for a term of one-and-twenty years,-a
privilege worth not less than a hundred thousand
pounds.
The young dissembler held his tongue.
Three or four months slipped by without much
trouble to the pair, when Seymour, who was vainly
expecting the King to yield, took his sharp cousin,




A REAL ARABELLA PLOT.             187
Edward Rodney, into his confidence, telling him of his
secret contract, and of his resolution to marry the
King's cousin, cost her what it might. IIe made
Rodney swear to keep his counsel, and to help him by
his suit and service when the time of action should
arrive.
A month after Lady Arabella had been tickling the
court gossips by her garb of shells and corals, Seymour
called on his cousin Rodney, to tell him of his plans
and to seek his help. The two young men dropped
down to Greenwich, where they found a poor priest,
John Blague, who was willing to perform the rite; and
early next day (July 9, 1610) the young fellows went
up into the lady's chamber in the palace, where the
nuptial knot was tied by Blague, in the presence of
her two gentlemen, Hugh Crompton and Edward
Reeves, beyond the power of kings and councils to
untie.
Here then, at length, a genuine Arabella Plot had
risen to perplex the court. When the secret came out,
the King was furious with the Seyrmours, feeling that
he had been cozened and deceived, as well as outraged
and defied. The aged Earl, who had ruined himself
by marrying Catharine Grey, was thought by James
to have urged this new and more dangerous suit, so as
to bring the family of Seymour one step nearer to the
throne than they already stood. But the abject protests of the broken man appeased him. Orders were
given to arrest the conspirators, of whom Rodney
alone escaped pursuit and capture. Blague, the priest
who had married them for a fee, was committed to the
Gate house in Westminster; Crompton and Reeves,
the gentlemen who stood by as witnesses, were sent
to the Marshalsea in Southwark. The bride was given
in custody to Sir Thomas Parry, who lodged her in a




188       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
fine house on the Thames near Vauxhall; while Seymour was placed in the house of Sir William Waad,
Lieutenant of the Tower, until fitting apartments
could be got ready for a man of his rank and taste.
CHAPTER XXVI.
WILLIAM SEYMOUR.
THE bride and bridegroom, parted in the first hours
of their honeymoon, took the blow in their several
ways. Seymour lost his temper, and his partner broke
her heart.
Seymour's chief trouble was the want of money, of
which he had none, and his wife not much. Blue
eyes would not pay his weekly bills, and Seymour's
weekly bills were likely to be large. He wrote to his
grandfather for an allowance; and, with the /King's
consent, Lord Hertford consented to allow him fifty
pounds a quarter for his maintenance in the Tower.
The rooms assigned to Seymour for his future home
were the handsome chambers in St. Thomas's tower, in
front of Raleigh's Walk; but Seymour thought these
chambers were cold and bare, needing much arras,
plate, and furniture to give them a cheery look; so
that while Rosalind was crying in Parry's fine house,
refusing to be comforted in her grief, Orlando was
wrangling with Waad about hangings and cups, about
presses and stools. Tapestries were bought for him,
and the chambers opening on the Thames were brightened with serge, with silver, and with books. To
Waad's surprise, however, this prince with a thousand




WILLIAM  SE YMO UR.           189
wants had not a single pistole in his pouch to pay for
the things he ordered; and, much to the Lieutenant's
wonder when he came to think of it in after-times,
this husband of a royal princess got into his debt. Sir
William was not a man to pay for other people; and
once he set his teeth, even in the tradesfolk's presence,
against his haughty and exacting guest. Seymour,
who wanted new tapestries for his sitting-room, induced Waad to order five pieces for him from Jenning
the upholsterer, at ten pounds apiece. One of these
pieces Seymour cut across, so as to make it fit his fireplace; by which he destroyed it as an article of furniture for use in any other room. Waad, who had
pledged himself thus far, declared that he would give
his name no more.
Seymour was not nice in the art of helping himself
to what he needed. The princess, now his wife, had
a villa of her own at Hackney; and to this villa he
sent for such things as he could not get from Waad,kitchen-stuff; linen, silver trenchers, candlesticks,
drinking-cups; and when his rooms had been duly
brightened up (on credit) he took jaunty leave of the
Lieutenant's house, and went to live in his chambers
over Traitors' gate.
Those comforts of the flesh which Seymour prized
so much had no great hold upon his wife. The bride
was not closely kept; she was served by her own
people; she had a garden to walk in; and no restraint
was put on her use of books and pens. Her servants
could come and go; her table was well supplied; she
was in correspondence with her friends. But she felt
no comfort in her freedom, since her soul was in the
chamber on the wharf, where her husband, as she
dreamt, was pining out his soul for love. She wrote to
him in tender and moving tones, to which the young




190       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
bridegroom answered her not a word. Inl fact, he saw
that his marriage was a mistake of means. His wife
was not rich; nor could she help hint to become great.
IIe had vexed the King to please her; and-she was
thirty-seven years old.
When Arabella heard from him at all, it was through
Smith, a servant, who told her that he had been ill.
Then Rosalind snatched a pen and wrote, with her
delicate banter, to her bridegroom in the Tower:
"I am exceeding sorry to hear you have not been
well. I pray you let me know truly how you do, and
what was the cause of it, for I am not satisfied with
the reason Smith gives for it. If it be a cold, I will
impute it to some sympathy betwixt us, having myself
gotten a swollen cheek at the same time with a cold.
For God's sake let not your grief of mind work upon
your body.... In what state soever you are, it
sufficeth me you are mine.       You see, when I
am troubled, I trouble you too with tedious kindness;
for so I think you will account so long a letter, yourself not having written to me for this good while so
much as how you do. But, sweet sir, I speak not this
to trouble you with writing but when you please. Be
well, and I shall account myself happy in being your
faithful, loving wife."
Seymour was too busy for such tender and unprofitable humor; the winter passed and the summer came
again without much writing to his wife. He was looking to himself, to his present comforts in the Tower, to
his future rank and place at the royal court. He was
writing to the lords of the Council, praying to be restored in grace, asserting that his health was ruined,
and begging to be allowed the full liberties of his
prison.
All the love, and nearly all the daring, were on the




WILLIAM SE YMO UR.            191
lady's side. Growing boldel as the days went by, she
got into a barge, dropped down the river, and paid a
visit to her husband, with whom she may have spoken
through his grated window on the wharf. Such facts
were sure to become known at court; this daring
visit was reported at Whitehall; when the King gave
orders that a dozen counties should be put between
his romantic cousin and his impudent prisoner in the
Tower.
Arabella was to be placed in charge of William James,
Bishop of Durham, with orders to repair forthwith into
the north, and there await his Majesty's pleasure; while
Seymour was to be watched in St. Thomas's tower with
a sharper eye.
And now came a strife between Solomon's craft and
Rosalind's wit, —a comedy in its course of deception
and surprise, a tragedy in its conclusion of insanity
and death.
Early in June (1611) the court was fluttered by a message from Sir William Monson, dated from a tavern at
Blackwall  This tough old sailor, taking boat for Billingsgate on his own affiirs, was told by his watermen
that a swift barge, having some of Seymour's friends
on board, had dropped down the river on the previous
night. The barge had been lying off St. Katherine's
Wharf. A boat was in attendance at the Tower stairs;
a bundle of clothes had been thrown into this boat; at
nightfall a man in a black wig and a carter's dress had
come alongside; a parley had taken place between the
carter and a young gentleman in the boat; the carter
had gone away, and the young gentleman had told the
watermen to pull for the barge. Some of the men engaged in the business were known to be Seymour's
kinsfolk. Who could say whether Seymour himself
might not have been that carter in the black wig?




192       HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
Monson, a friend of Lady Suffolk, a partisan of the
house of Howard, suspected that an escape was being
attempted from the Tower, the defeat of which would
-be likely to make his fortune. Instead, therefore, of
landing at Billingsgate, as he had meant to do, he bade
his men pull lustily for Blackwall, where he jumped
on shore, ran into the river-side tavern, and learned
from the man who kept it that a young gentleman, or
one who by his dress and figure wished to pass for a
young gentleman, had come on the previous evening
to his house on horseback, in company with a lady
of middle age, and, after staying in a private room for
two or three hours, had at last taken oars for Gravesend. I-He also learned that Lady Grey, a daughter of
the Earl of' Shrewsbury, had come down to Blackwall,
from which she was pulled across to Greenwich. This
Lady Grey was a cousin of Lady Arabella. Every
word he caught was full of mischief. Pressing his
host still further, he learned that late on the previous
evening two gentlemen, dressed in the same sort of
clothes, from rosette to plume, had come to Blackwall,
one of them by land, the second by water; that they
seemed to be looking for some one who was not there;
that the youth who came by water had mounted a
horse and ridden away, while the one who came by land
had taken oars and put off from the wharf, as though
he were following the young gentleman and the lady
of middle age.
While Monson was extracting this news from his
landlord, men from a vessel in the river stepped on
shore. They had come up the Thames that day, and,
in reply to the Admiral's questions, they could tell
him that a French bark, then lying in Leigh Roads,
had taken a strange party on board and sailed at daybreak on the course for Calais.'Sure that an escape




WILLIAM SEYMOUR.              193
was being made, and also pretty sure that Seymour
was on board the French bark, he saw what a golden
chance was thrown into his path. Of late he had been
falling back. A reign of peace was not a reign in
which men of his trade could thrive; and Monson had
been vainly striving to obtain at court the prizes he
could no longer obtain at sea If Seymour had broken
prison, the man who captured and brought him back
would do a striking service, not only to the Howards,
but to the King.
Familiar with the winds and currents of the Straits,
he knew that the French bark, sailing from Leigh
Roads at dawn, could not have passed the Foreland.
The wind was high, and the water rough. The bark
would then be rolling in the chops beyond Margate
Sands. If the wind should keep in the same quarter,
that bark would not be able to make the port of Calais
before set of sun.
Quick in action as though he were on his quarterdeck, the brisk old sailor took his course. Throwing
a few men into an oyster-boat, he pushed them down
the Thames. Mounting a good rider, he sent off a
message to the admiral commanding in the Downs.
Writing a letter to Cecil, he informed the Secretary of
his news, and then pulled over to Greenwich, where
he asked for the use of a royal ship.
His high rank in the navy made his wish in these
matters a command; so that in less than an hour after
his coming to the inn-door at Blackwall he had opened
the chase of his unknown fugitive by water and by
land.
SER. II.           17




194        HER MAJESTY'S   TO WER.
CIIAPTER  XXVII.
TIHE ESCAPE.
ARABELLA had donle her part, as women always do,
with singular alld successful art. Before she was carried away from Lanmbeth slhe had procured thie liberation of' her servant, Hugh Cromrpton, frolrl the Marshalsea. Among her many merits, this royal lady had
the grace of mlakilng all her people love her. By nature
soft and killd, she made companlions of her attendants,
firom whonm she could not bear to part, still less to see
them suffer on her account. When Reeves and Crompton were in prison, she sent to the Marshalsea almost
every day to learn how they were doing, and wrote
most pressing letters for them to the Council and to
the Queen.  She seemed to suffer more pain for her
people tlian for herself.
The Council was hard of heart, for the IToward party
was anxious that the Kinc's cousin should never more
regain her old ascendency at court; but when plague
broke out in the Marshalsea her prayers becatle so.urgent that they could not be denied; and when she
was ordered into the north country, Crompton, as the
man most used to her ways, was suffered to share what
was understood by Lady Suffolk as her banishment
from the English court.
Before going north, the lady made one last appeal
to the Lord Chief Justice of the Kinog's Bench and the
Lord Chief Justice of the Common  Pleas. In nlarrying, as every woman was free to do, she conceived that
she had done no wrong; but, if others thought so, she




THRE ESCAPE.                195
demanded to be tried for her offense and punished according to the law. "If your lordships," she wrote,
"may not, or will not, of yourselves grant me the
ordinary relief of a distressed subject, then I beseech
you to become humble intercessors to his Majesty that
I may receive such benefit of justice as both his Majesty
by his oath (those of his blood not excepted) hath promised and the laws of this realm affobrd to all others."
She added, with equal modesty and dignity, "And
though, unfortunate woman that I am, I should obtain neither, yet I beseech your lordships retain me in
your good opinion, and judge me charitably, till I be
proved to have committed any offense either against
God or his Majesty, deserving so long restraint or
separation from my lawful husband."
The Lord Chief Justices to whom she wrote were
Sir Thomas Fleming and Sir Edward Coke, courtiers
and creatures of the Howards. IHer prayer remained
unheard; and warrants were issued by the Council
for Sir Thomas Parry to bring her "person" to
Whitehall.
She protested against this seizure, and had to be
removed by force.
Rightly or wrongly, the lady conceived the idea
that she, a free woman of the blood royal, was being
treated with lawless violence by a ftction in her
cousin's court, against whom it would be fair in her
to use whatever stratagems her wit could devise.
The courtiers, reading her prayers and protests, and
fearing to place her at the Council-table, where some
sudden burst of feeling might touch the King and
cause him to change their plans, requested the Bishop
of Durham to go in person to Vauxhall and there receive her into charge. The lady was in no mood to
submit in silence to this change. The Bishop pro



196       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
duced his letters. She refused to stir. With tender
art, for the Bishop was a godly man, he tried to soothe
her rage, by telling her the story of patient saints, and
of prisoners far less happy than herself. She wept,
she raved, she fainted on the floor. At length they
picked her up, placed her in a coach, and carried her
to the Thames, and so through the town to Highgate
Hill. Scant preparation had been made for her reception on the road. A cold March wind was blowing in her teeth. The inns were mean and full of
people, and her escort was instructed to hurry her
along. She had to be carried in a litter, in which she
fainted thrice before they reached the Hill. Moundford, her physician, gave her cordials to restore her
strength; but late in the afternoon he began to fear
she would not live, and in a fainting state she was
put to bed. A rider was sent back to court, where
Suffolk, suspecting that her sickness was put on, sent
Sir James Croft, a court physician, to see her. Sir
James reported that her sickness was not feigned.
Still force was tried to make her go. Sergeant Mynors,
one of her escort, lifted her out of bed into the coach,
and bore her to Barnet, where Moundford declared
that she could not travel, and to carry her farther
would be murder. Mynors himself was frightened
when he saw her lying on the floor, her face like
death, and her tunic stained with blood.
The good Bishop wrote from Barnet to the lords,
describing her sickness, and asking for orders what
to do. The doctors and parsons who came to see her
told but one story. She was unfit to travel; and when
the King perceived that he could not drive her on without the risk of killing her on the road, he gave an
order for her to rest a month and then go forward
toward the north.




THE ESCAPE.                197
A cottage was hired for her from Thomas Conyers,
at East Barnet, near IHampstead Heath, in the fresh
air of which her spirits suddenly revived. She kept
her counsel well, so that only her trusty maid and her
faithfill Crompton. knew how she really was in health.
The Bishop went north to prepare her chamber, leaving her in the charge of Croft. Moundford rode backward and forward between the Heath and Charing
Cross, where the Council pressed him to compel her
to go on.  HIe begged for another month, but the
lords refused her another day. As Croft and Moundford seemed to them too yielding, they sent for Mynors, who told them the lady was not fit to travel; but
they cut the keeper short by saying it was the King's
absolute will that she should go at once to Durham,
even if she rode no more than a mile a day.
She wrote to the King and Queen. She made a friend
of Mrs. Adams, the wife of a clergyman who came to
see her. She wrote to her aunt Mary, Countess of
Shrewsbury, who espoused her cause, to the peril of
her freedom and estate. Her uncle Shrewsbury was a
member of the Council; but his brain was too weak
for influence on a board at which Cecil and Northampton sat. In her distress of mind for her niece, Lady
Shrewsbury appealed to the new favorite, Robert Carr,
now Viscount Rochester; but the young minion of royal
grace was in love-in most disloyal love-with Suffolk's
beautiful daughter, Lady Essex, and therefore was a
slave to that powerful peer.  Taking his cue from
Northampton, the Nestor of his Lady's house, Carr
answered the Countess of Shrewsbury that he could
not solicit the King in a matter which was unfit for her
to ask and for the King to grant. Northampton wrote
anl account of this " faithful and sound refusal" to the
IKing.
l ~>gi




198       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
But Mary, Countess of Shrewsbury, was not a woman
to yield at once. She knew how near the throne her
kinswonian stood, and slhe hoped that Seymour and
Arabella would leave a son to inherit their claim and
perhaps to wear the crown. By fair means if it might
be, by foul means if it must be, she resolved that the
young man and his wife should come together in some
country beyond the reach of James.
Sending for Hugh Crompton, she told him of her
hopes, her means, and her designs. She hoped to unite
the husband to his wife. She had plenty of money;
and she fancied that on spending gold enough she
could buy the means for their escape into France.
Crompton listened to her speech.  With wit and
money, anything might be done,-servants corrupted,
disguises bought, confederates paitl, and vessels hired
for flight. Crompton went to East Barnet, and told
his mistress all that Lady Shrewsbury had opened her
mind to say. The lady leaped to her offer, and with
ready wit suggested the particulars of a plan for their
joint escape into France,-she from her keepers at
Conyers's house, and Seymour from his lodgings in
the Tower. Her servant, seeing the way laid out, engaged to prepare disguises, to arrange for horses, and
to hire a skipper in the Thames. They only wanted
money; and money the Countess undertook to find.
Great sums —not less than twenty thousand pounds in
all-were quickly raised and poured into Arabella's
lap, " to pay her debts." Jewels were bought; a cloak
and hat, a rapier, and a pair of cavalier's boots, were
carried in secret to Conyers's house. In her private
room, the faithful Hugh instructed his lady how to
wear her hat and sword.
Money was sent to Seymour in the Tower, with details of a plan for his own escape. Young Rodney




THE ESCAPE.                199
entered with all his soul into Crompton's scheme.
Two suits of clothes, exactly alike from rosette to
plume, were made; for the cousins were of an age and
size to match; and these two suits were to be used on
the day of flight. A second disguise was got for Seymour, in the shape of a carter's frock and whip. Batten, his barber, made him a great black wig. One
Monsieur Corvy, a French skipper, was hired to lie in
the Leigh Roads and wait for certain parties who would
give him a pass-word and come on board his bark.
Croft now told his patient she must resume herjourney toward the north, where the Bishop of Durham was
waiting to receive her into his charge. Every one about
Conyers's cottage pitied her, even those who had to
answer for her; and, on the physician's plea, a second
month was given her to recruit her strength. That
month was May; a month of rare delight on the breezy
IHampstead heights. She seemed to be winning back
her health. At once playful and meek, she lulled suspicion; and Croft, believing that his patient wisdom
had prevailed over her fretful spirit, advised the Council that she was now resigned to the King. When, late
in May, he pressed her, in the King's name, to resume
her journey toward the north, she named Monday, the
3d of June, as the day on which she would be ready to
set forth.
About four o'clock on Sunday afternoon, dressing
herself in cloak and hat, drawing on a pair of cavalier's
boots, slinging a sword by her side, and putting her
jewels into her pocket, Rosalind came out of Conyers's
cottage with Mrs. Bradshawe, the daughter of a gentleman of East Barnet, followed by William Markham,
one of the gentlemen of her suite. A walk of half an
hour brought them to a lonely inn, where Crompton
was waiting with horses ready saddled for their flight.




200       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
Sick with hope and fear, poor Rosalind gave her hand
to a groom, who helped her to mount; and, as the
party pricked away toward London, this lad turned
round to his fellow-groom and said, "Poor young gentleman! he will hardly reach London alive." A quick
ride brought the blood into her cheek; but on reaching
the inn by the river at Blackwall, where she expected to
find her husband safe and well, she almost fainted froin
her horse. It was six o'clock, and Seymour was not
come. Boats were hired for Woolwich; the luggage
was put on board; the men got ready to start; but
Rosalind would not stir from the Blackwall inn until
Orlando came. A precious hour was lost; the village
clock struck seven. Mrs. Bradshawe urged her to go
on board, as the pursuers would be soon upon her track.
The oarsmen grew impatient, for night was coming on.
Still she would not stir from the little parlor of the
water-side inn. What to her was liberty unless her
husband was at her side? A few minutes more might
give him his only chance.
When the church-clock chimed eight, the watermen
told her she must either go at once or wait until
another day. They could hardly now make Woolwich
Reach before dark, and they did not care to be out on
the Thames all night. With a heavy heart she stepped
on board, and the boat pushed off from the Blackwall
stair.




P URS UIT.               201
CHAPTER XXVIII.
PURSUIT.
LADY ARABELLA and Mrs. Bradshawe were in the
leading boat; Crompton and Markham, her gentlemenin-waiting, in the second. They had with them a heap
of diamonds, pearls, and rubies, and a sum of three
thousand pounds in gold. Five minutesafter they left
Blackwall stair the sun went down; but they had still
an hour of light; and when they were fairly in the
stream she asked the men to carry her past Woolwich
and put her on shore at Gravesend, which they were
willing enough to do for a purse of gold. At the
second port she found a skipper, who agreed, for a high
fee, to take her down the river to Leigh Roads, where
Corve's bark was to take them all on board. In the
dark summer night they passed the bark without
seeing her, and in Leigh Roads found a ship at anchor,
which they hailed. The master of this ship, John
Bright, bound for Berwick, refused Arabella's offer of
a large sum of money to carry her into France. Bright
told her that a ship was lying in the Roads about two
miles up the river, which ship she fancied must be
Captain Corv6's bark. Turning back in her search,
she hailed the strange vessel; and, finding her to be
French, she made herself known to Corvd by the pass,
and in a few seconds her party was taken up on
board.
The wind was cross. For four days past it had been
blowing east by south; the sea was running high, and,
with the best of fortune, the bark could hardly have




202       HEER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
passed the Foreland and got her tack. But Corve
made no haste; for his royal passenger begged him to
hang below the Nore, in the hope of picking up Seymour from some craft. Their plans were so well arranged that she was sure her husband had left the
Tower. Some accident had spoiled their meeting at
the Blackwall tavern; but she felt no doubt that he was
somewhere tossing in his boat at sea. She lost some
hours in reachinlg the Narrows, and long before they
got into open water in front of Calais their happy
chance was gone.
A swift war-ship, the Adventure, had been sent from
the Downs on Monson's order, to sweep the Straits.
The Adventure appeared in sight. The French coast
was near, and the bark threw out her sails; but a
boat was lowered from the Adventure to give chase.
The princess wept; the captain fought his best; but,
after thirteen shots had been fired into him, Corve
struck his flag and gave up his freight.
Seymour had taken care of himself. By the help of
Rodney, he procured his black wig and his yellow
frock. Feigning sickness, he kept his room in the
Water gate. The Lieutenant had no conception that
Seymour was such a deep and wily youth; and, even
when the bird had flown away fiom his cage, he was
chiefly vexed at finding that the fellow had cheated
him of his perquisites by secretly sending away from
his lodgings the best of Arabella's plate!
On the Saturday night, when everything was ready
at East Barnet fobr the lady's flight, Rodney went to a
house near St. Catharine's Hospital, kept by a woman
with whom he had formerly lodged, and hired a room,
on the pretense that he felt hiniself a little unwell and
wanted a change of air. IIe sent his iman to this
woman's house with a great bunlle of clothes, which




PURSUIT.                 203
were laid in his room. Early on Sunday morning the
man came again, with a fresh bundle, and asked
whether his master had yet arrived. Two strange persons called during the day, one of them a female, who
stayed in the house until all the stuff brought in by
Rodney's nman was carried to a boat at St. Catharine's
wvharf.
All that day poor Seymour was thought to be lying
ill in bed. Just at sundown, a cart drove up to the
MWater gate, when Seymour, leaping out of bed, put
on his carter's frock and wig, snatched up a whip,
stepped out into the street, and drove the horses along
Water Lane through the Byeward gate.
Rodney was waiting for him with a horse and boat
near Tower stair.  Seymour mounted the horse and
rode away, while Rodney stepped on board and pulled
for Blackwall; where the two men met again about
nine o'clock. Seymour had changed his dress, and the
landlord of the inn observed that the cousins were
dressed alike from head to foot. Seymour soon learned
that his wife had come and gone. The young nlen
parted company, Rodney riding away to baffle pursuit,
while his friend and cousin dropped down to Leigh.
The French bark having sailed, Seymour made no
effort to follow his wife, but, finding  a collier beating
about the Narrows, he bribed the master to take him
on board and land him in Ostend.
When the crew from the Adventure leaped on board
Coorv's bark, Arabella came forward, made known
her rank, and yielded herself a prisoner to the King.
They asked her where Seymour was; to which she
answered, smiling, that she had not seen him, and could.not tell them; but she hoped he had got across into
France, and said that her joy at his escape consoled
her for her own nmishap.




204       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
Passengers and crew being taken on board the Adventure and brought into the Downs, Sir William
Monson dispatched a messenger with his news to court.
The King was cross, and Northampton inflamed his
passions; but Cecil, an advocate always for the middle
term, prevailed with James to adopt a more moderate
course than Northampton would have had him take.
Northampton tried to make the King believe that
Arabella's flight was a deep political plot, and he drew
a fanciful picture of a series " of plots that were to follow" her escape into France. Cecil laughed this nonsense out of court; yet the proceedings taken against
the suspected persons were sharp enough. Even before
Monsori had brought his prisoners up the Thames, a
number of men and women had been committed to the
various jails: the Countess of Shrewsbury to the Tower,
Sir James Croft to the Fleet, Mr. Adams and Dr.
Moundford to the Gate house, the barber Batten to the
Keep. When the captives arrived in town, the King
gave orders that his fugitive cousin should be lodged
in the Tower, and the apartments chosen for her were
the chambers occupied by Margaret Douglas, the common grandmother of Arabella and the King. William
Markham was sent to the Marshalsea, Hugh Crompton
to the Fleet. Corve was lodged in Newgate, then much
used as a sailors' prison. Edward Rodney, seized near
London, was put in the Gate house, questioned by
Northampton, and committed to the Tower. Gilbert,
Earl of Shrewsbury, and Edward, Earl of HIertford,
were restrained to their several homes.
The proceedings lasted long, and wore out many
lives. One by one the minor agents in the escape
either died in prison or gained their liberty by telling
what they knew. Croft, who knew nothing, was discharged from the Fleet; while Dr. Moundford and




PURSUIT.                 205
Mr. Adams, who knew little more than Croft, were
liberated from the Gate house. As nothing could be
learned from Rodney, he was suffered to go abroad,
where he joined his cousin Seymour at the court of
France.
Crompton and Markham, the companions of Arabella's flight, were brought from the Fleet and Marshalsea to the Tower, and pressed by questions in the
torture-chamber, until they told some part of what they
knew.
When niece and aunt were brought before the lords
and questioned as to the escape, Arabella was gentle
and yielding, while her aunt was haughty in manner
and hot in speech. Why, asked the Countess of Shrewsbury, was she brought before that secret and unjust
tribunal? Northampton bade her answer the questions
put to her. She would not answer. She would not be
tried in private. She appealed to the law. If they
had evidence against her, let them produce it in open
court. Northampton stormed upon her. Was that
the way to deal with the King's Council? Still prouder
and more scornful, she demanded to know whether
that was the way to treat a lady of her rank.
Lady Shrewsbury bound herself by a great oath
never to reveal the particulars of her niece's flight.
SER. II.           18




206       HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
CHAPTER XXIX.
DEAD IN THE TOWER.
WHEN Lady Arabella was taken on board the French
bark, she had three thousand pounds in gold, and a
great wealth of rings and bracelets in her trunks and
on her person. This money, and these jewels, the
property of Lady Shrewsbury, had been seized by the
King, and the money had been used for paying the
cost of Arabella's capture. But a heap of gold and a
case of jewels were the smallest parts of Lady Shrewsbury's loss. This wealth was Arabella's force; and
the raising of so large a sum of money was proof of
Lady Shrewsbury's share in her flight. But neither
niece nor aunt could be drawn into confessing each
other's guilt; and, after many of Northampton's attempts to snare them had been foiled, the two ladies
were sent back to the care of Sir William Waad.
Rich enough to buy herself every indulgence, Lady
Shrewsbury procured a suite of rooms in the royal
quarter, consisting of the Queen's old lodgings,-three
or four chambers in which she could live and walk
about, but worn by time, and bare of hangings, furniture, and wainscots, the windows being broken, the
doors unhung, the ceilings open to the sky. Not a
single servant of her own was suffered to be with her.
Gilbert, her husband, wrote to Cecil, who obtained for
her some relaxation of the rules. But the lady would
not help her friends; her stomach was said to be too
high for a private person, even of her exalted birth.
A servant was allowed, as an especial grace, to wait




DEAD IN  THE TO WER.            207
upon her. The ceiling of her room was mended, so as
to keep out wind and rain. But the Countess was tormented in her prison by Northampton, who came to
the Tower in the interest of his new tool and dupe,
Sir Robert Carr, now hungering for escheats and fines.
Carr was eager to get Sherborne Castle from Raleigh;
a part of the thirty thousand pounds from Percy; a
case of Arabella's diamonds; a lump of Lady Shrewsbury's vast estate; and the hoary pander to this young
man's passions came down to see the prisoners, one by
one, to pry into their ways of life and find some pretext for proceedings yet more harsh. Every one in the
Tower had cause to regret his coming. Raleigh and
Percy were confined to their cells; Lady Shrewsbury
was insulted in her apartments; and the Lady Arabella suffered from the incivilities of Waad, an officer
only too anxious to please his patrons at the court.
The darkening crimes and breaking strength of
that bad old man were hurrying him. to an end; but
whether that end would be a felon's dungeon or a
councilor's grave, the nimblest wit in London could
not tell.
Lady Shrewsbury, saucy and silent with the lords,
was brought before a Select Committee of the Privy
Council, at York House, the residence of Ellesmere,
to answer for not answering; an offense which Northampton said amounted to a contempt of the King.
They told her that Crompton had confessed to all she
had done in the marriage and escape of her niece, and
they wished her to supply information on certain points.
She would not speak to these points. She pleaded her
vow; she pleaded her peerage. If she were charged
with an offense, she claimed to be tried by her peers,
according to the law, and in open court, not by a Committee of the Council, sitting in a private room.




208       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
Four of the judges, consulted on her case, subscribed
to a view of the actual law which, on a sentence being
passed in the Star Chamber, would have laid her open
to a fine of twenty thousand pounds, and imprisonment
during the King's pleasure. That a verdict could be
gained against her in the Star Chamber, if promoted
by the Council, who could doubt? Yet the Countess
was not frightened into speech. Sent back to the
Tower, she lived on, year by year, in her old defiant
mood, until her enemy Northampton died and the
"Friends of Spain" were broken and dispersed.
Seymour amused himself in Brussels and Paris, wrote
abject letters to King James, and squabbled with Waad
about the plate and hangings he had left behind him
in St. Thomas's tower. In less than six months he
forgot his wife, and almost forgot his debts. Waad
wrote to Cecil that the flown bird had left nothing
behind him of his own, since the best things in his
rooms had been either fetched from the Lady Arabelia's house or taken from the Lieutenant's store. A
few things he had bought from tradesmen, but for
these things he had never paid.
In the chamber which her grandmother Margaret
had occupied in the Tower, poor Rosalind, having lost
her all for love, remained a prisoner to her cousin five
years. Some of her letters, written from the Tower
to the King, have been preserved,-tender and winsome letters, full of sad humor and wife-like grace.
Her pleas were simple. When the King had told her
to marry whom she pleased, she thought herself free.
She allowed her heart to become engaged. Iher lover
pressed her, and she plighted him her troth. That
act of plighting made them, in her conscience, man
and wife. Before she learned that the King objected
to her match, the deed was done. If she had given




DEAD IN THE TO WER.             209
offense, it was because she had been driven to choose
between the law of God and the law of man. " Most
humbly I beseech your Majesty," she wrote, " to consider in what miserable state I should have been, if I
had taken any other course; for, my own conscience
witnessing before God that I was then the wife of him
that now I am, I could never have matched with any
other man." She signed her letters "A. S.," which
luckily answered to either Arabella Stuart or Arabella
Seymour. But the King was dead to her sorrow.
Trying him on every side, by turns gay and cheerful,
sad and submissive, she appealed to his pity, to his
pride, to his affection; and she tried him on every side
in vain. When the " Queen of Hearts" was married
to the Palsgraf of the Rhine, poor Rosalind hoped that
her cousin's heart would open to her woes. " Mercy,
mercy! for God's sake, mercy!" was the burden of her
daily prayer. The King was deaf.
In her lonely chamber she plied her needle on a
canvas which she meant to send as a remembrance to
the King; a dainty piece of labor, to have touched a
kinsman's heart. But James would not accept her
present. Then she fell sick, and pined in her room,
and wandered in her thoughts.
The rules under which she lived in the Lieutenant's
house were harsh, and even in her days of sickness they
were not relaxed. Waad knew his masters, and guessed
their minds. No news, he felt assured, could reach
Northampton's ear so welcome as that of Arabella's
death; and hence, when his functions gave him power
to trouble his unpardoned captive, he pressed against
her with all his weight. He refused to let her servants
wait upon her. He compelled her to eat the ordinary
prison fare. She asked for posset, and for clothes befitting a sick-room and a lady who kept her bed; but
18*




210       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
she asked for these indulgences in vain. In her search
for help, she turned to her bitterest foe at court, and
in a plaintive letter told Northampton of her misery in
the Tower. " I have been sick," she wrote, "even unto
the death; from which it hath pleased God miraculously
to deliver me; but find myself so weak, by reason I
have wanted those ordinary helps whereby most others
in my case, be they never so poor, are preserved alive
-at least for charity." She had little hope from Northampton, and her note was more a menace than a prayer.
In words direct enough, she told him that the privations under which she lay in prison would be not only
" the certain" but "the apparent" cause of her death.
She warned him that if either he, or his nephew Suffolk, had "possessed the King with such opinions of
her as should cause her to be restrained until help came
too late," she knew her course. "I dare die," she
added, "and oppress others with my ruin, if there be
no other way."
The strain was now too great for her feeble strength
to bear. Her tender musings passed into fierce convulsions; and when her doctors had chased the agony
away, her mind was found to be a wreck. Rosalind
was become Ophelia!
Days, months, went by in hopeless waste of love and
life. She lost all sense of passing things, and prattled
in her madness like a child. The Lieutenancy of the
Tower was changed, a more unscrupulous tool of Lord
Northampton coming to rule over her; but she took no
heed of what was going on. Some friends she found,
in the Tower and beyond the Tower,-men who pitied
her, and would have given their lives to help her; but
these were not the great ones of the earth. Palmer, a
divine of the English Church, and Crompton, her faithful servant, put their heads together and, in the sumr, V V~~~-~~VLL  ~~-LVWVLY  V~~~ilb




DEAD IN  THE  TO WER.            211
mer of 1614, in the third year of her imprisonment,
contrived a plan for her escape. It was a wild design,
which led to nothing, except their own arrest and inmprisonment, a letter of congratulation from Northampton to Carr, and a resolution on the part of James to
guard her better in the time to come.
The rumors of her proposed escape were useful to
Northampton in drawing people's eyes and thoughts
away from a frightful drama -which had just been
closed in the Bloody tower.
She lived a year after Crompton's attempt had failed;
tenderly drooping day by day; always gentle, sometimes playful, never morose; now plying her needle
through the flowers, now touching her well-worn lute,
and humming her evening song, until at length the
weary woman fell asleep.
In the dead hours of an autumn night her ashes
were taken from the Tower and laid in that Abbey
which was the tomb of all her race,-laid beside all
that remained of her grandmother,. Margaret Douglas,
and her great-aunt, Mary Queen of Scots, with neither
line nor stone to mark the spot in which she sleeps.
Seymour lived abroad, keeping his eye on events,
and hoping to comle back, which he was now convinced
lie could never do while his consort was alive. He
niever wrote to her, never sent her token of his love.
IIe heard that she was sick, he heard that she was
crazed; but Paris was gay, and nothing in her fortunes
seemed to touch his young and calculating heart.
When he heard that she was gone, he threw himself
upon James's mercy, implored his pardon, and obtained permission to return. Attaching himself to
Charles, he became that prince's councilor and friend,
fighting at his side through the Civil War, and making
at its close that theatrical offer of being put to death




212       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
for his King, which is the best-remembered of his
feats. But, to make things safe whichever side should
win, he took a second wife from the popular side;
marrying Lady Frances Devereux, sister of Lord Essex,
the great Parliamentary general. Seymour kept his
head and his estate, and when Charles the Second
came back to London he received the reward of his
many virtues in his elevation to the rank of Duke.
It is not known that Seymour ever paid for the
hangings supplied by Jenning at ten pounds apiece
for his comfort in St. Thomas's tower.
Yet before the royal lady passed into her rest in the
great Abbey, she heard that the hoary and wicked
Earl, who had wrought her so much evil, was no more;
that in his later time he was a loathsome object in all
men's eyes; and that he was gone to his grave suspected of a hideous crime, for which, on proof and
judgment given against him, he would probably have
been hung.
CHAPTER XXX.
LADY FRANCES HOWARD.
THE last and latest of the many tools by which
Northampton worked his will at court was the beauty
of his nephew's daughter, Lady Frances, the young
wife of his ally, Robert Earl of Essex.
In the long line of our female criminals there is
hardly one more fascinating and more odious than
Lady Frances Howard, the daughter of Lady Suffolk.
When she was yet a child of thirteen springs, she ap



LADY FRANCES HOTTWARD.           213
peared at court in one of the parts of Ben Jonson's
Masque of Hymen. A daughter of the house of
Howard, she was chosen by Cecil and Northampton as
the first victim in a series of matches by means of
which they hoped to fuse into one great party four
rival houses; the other victims of their policy being
her elder sister, Lady Elizabeth, and her tiny sister,
Lady Catharine. These girls were given in marriage
by plotting graybeards to two boys and one old man;
Lady Frances to Robert, Earl of Essex, Lady Catharine
to William, Lord Cranborne,-boys no bigger than
themselves, whom they could neither love nor hate
in that tender age,-and Lady Elizabeth to William,
Lord Knollys of Greys, a kinsman of the great Queen.
The prize of this union of the four great houses of
Cecil, Howard, Devereux, and Knollys was to be the
control of king, court, and government for a dozen
years.
The King was thought to have made the match
between Earl Robert and Lady Frances, and the wedding came off in a scene which was gay with all the
gayety of a court. The King and Queen were present.
James, who gave away the bride, and heard Montagu
bless the children, ran with them from the chapel to
the masque, where they were dazed by the lights and
company, by the ripple of Jonson's verse, by the surprise of Inigo Jones's sceneries, by the mnasquers' white
plumes and the ladies' ropes of pearl. When the feast
was eaten and the romps were danced, the boy and
girl, now man and wife according to the Church, were
sent away to school. Lord Essex went abroad with
his tutor, while his child-like bride went home to her
mother's house.
Reared in the court of France, living much in
Huguenot homes, the Earl grew up into a grave and




214       HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
religious youth; while the Countess, his bride, being
trained under her mother's eye, grew up into a woman
unspeakably venal and impure. A youth of parts and
figure, soft in his ways, especially with the gentler sex,
quick with fire and manhood, proud of his great name,
inclined, like the old warriors of his house, to cleave
his way not by his wit but by his sword, Earl Robert
grew up into a perfect knight, armed at all points with
the courtier's grace no less than with the soldier's art.
During the five years which he spent abroad, he does
not seem to have thought very much of that festive
scene at the English court, and of that fair young face
which had filled the galleries of Whitehall with light;
and when he returned to London, after a long absence,
to claim his wife, now grown into a lovely woman, he
heard with equal surprise and pity that the fair young
girl whom he had kissed and promised to love was
thought by some of his family to have been led by her
kinsmen into unwife-like ways.
The girl was cursed with the rarest gifts of person.
Tall and lithe, with oval face, small pouting lips,
straight nose, and masses of shining hair, she would
have taken captive every heart without the aid of her
brilliant eyes. If those said sooth who knew her best,
those eyes were fired with a wondrous and wicked
glow. They set the poets raving, drove the painters
to despair, and, even when they shone in eclogues
only, furnished critics with the theory of what Johnson
calls the poetic propagation of light.
Living with her mother Lady Suffolk, with her
sister Lady Knollys, both of whom made wreck of
their repute, she learned, while yet a child, to see the
value of such gifts. A husband far away, of whom
she heard as poring over strange books, as crossing
swords with unknown sparks, was not the man on




LADY FRANCES HOWARD.              215
whom her fancy loved to dwell. Though young and
noble, she heard that he was grave and proud, averse
to courts, contemptuous of pomp and show, a soldier
more like Grey than a cavalier like Carr. Unhappily
for the girl, no friend was at her side in those perilous
years who could have shown her a better way. Her
mother had for many years been lost to all sense of
shame. Of her elder sister, now the wife of a man
old enough to be her grandfather, it is enough to say
that she was (afterward). that Countess of Banbury
whose married life has been the subject of judicial
inquiry ever since she died. From her father, and
from the old man who was more to her than father,
she had little more than venal counsels to expect.
During the dozen years of the new reign, the Howards had driven a thriving trade in honors and estates,
though the ducal coronet of their house had not yet
been won.
Henry, the Nestor of his family, was Baron Marnhill, Earl of Northampton, Constable of Dover Castle,
Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, Lord Privy Seal,
High Steward of Oxford, Knight of the Garter, a Commissioner for the Office of Earl Marshal, and Keeper
of Greenwich Park. Among manors and castles
which he had begged from James were Castle Rising
in Norfolk, the lordship of Ash in Suffolk, the manor
of Buckland in Dorset, the manor of Clare in Salop,
Wark Castle and the manor of Tyndale in Northumberland, the Chase of Baggeridge and White's-wood
in Stafford. Besides his official salaries, he got a personal pension of two hundred pounds a year for life,
one hundred pounds a year of the surrendered pension
of Lady Walsingham, and a royalty on all the starch
either made in England or imported from abroad. Ite
had built a great palace at Charing Cross, which he




216        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
called Northampton House, and a second great palace
in the country, which he called Audley End.
Thomas, his nephew and favorite, was Baron Howard of Walden, Earl of Suffolk, and Lord Chamberlain, with nearly as many pensions and perquisites as
his uncle.
Since Cecil's death, no single courtier had been able
to stand his ground against the Howards, whose high
connections and unscrupulous talents had made them
every year more dangerous to the KIing. James loved
them little, but he feared them much. He liked their
supple'knees and slimy tongues, but trembled when
he thought of their riches, their experience, their ambition, and their greed. One thing about them gave
him comfort: they were hated by his people; so that
he had little doubt, if ever he should have to turn
against them, that he could do so with the nation at
his back. Northampton asked for the White Staff,
the wand then borne by the Lord High Treasurer;
and the King, not daring to give him that staff, on
account of his religion and his unpopularity, put the
Treasury in commission for six months. Then commenced a new series of intrigues, through which the
hoary and wasting Earl expected to win his place. He
threw out lures and hints, and played a most curious
game of give-and-take. He favored the reduction of
Northumberland's fine, ill order to catch the support
of Lady Lucy's lover, and actively pursued his young
crony, Lord Vaux, the inephew of Ann and Helen,
until that pupil of Garnet was condemned to the loss
of his estate and to imprisonment in the Fleet for life.
He gratified the London mob by hanging Father
Richards and Father Sahagun, two priests who returned to England without license; at the same time
taking some pains to soften the surprise in Rome by




LADY FRANCES HOWARD.              217
sending his nephew Arundel to weep at the foot of
the gallows on which the priests were hung. So well
was his game played out, that the world began to talk
of Northampton's " Protestant zeal," and for this outbreak of English virtue he was rewarded by the Dons
of Cambridge, who added to his many offices and
honors that of Chancellor of the University,-a step
which brought him sensibly nearer to the Staff.
Northampton, gazing on Lady Essex's lustrous eyes,
began to dream of an alliance with the royal house;
and this old man, who should have been her guide
and stay in the path of honor, taught the poor child
how to beam on the young prince, and blessed his
stars when he observed how the warm boy flushed
and trembled beneath her gaze. But Henry, though
he liked to toy with the siren, never dreamt of asking
her to be his wife. Too soon and easily he clipped
her chains. Once, when she dropped her glove at his
feet, a courtier drew his eye to the sign of favor;
but he passed it by, saying, "No: it has been stretched
by another.",
The tale of Prince Henry and Lady Essex having
been locked in a room may not be true; but Lady
Suffolk and Lord Northampton had the sort of fame
in the city which left them open to suspicion of the
vilest acts. In that dozen years during which they
reigned at court, the tone of life in the upper ranks
had undergone a change. To those who had seen the
stately and decent court of Gloriana, that of her successor on the throne appeared like a cock-pit and a
bear-garden. Fulk Greville, in a ripe old age, which
was certainly not penitential and severe, described for
the amusement of after-times the vices of great lords
and ladies as he saw themn,-a picture of courtly manners to be mated only in the annals of some Coesar in
SER. II.          19




218        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
ancient Rome, some Regent in modern France. Lady
Suffolk was no solitary queen of vice, nor was Northampton the only broker in his country's shame. All
ranks seemed rotten; the finest ladies to wear their
prices, so to speak, upon their sleeves. A royal closet,
unclean with the litter and language of a kennel; galleries besieged by gamesters, pensioners, and jades;
ante-chambers choked by sorcerers, poisoners, and
pimps; a garden walked by bravos, ready for any service, however foul and dark, that stood beyond the
hangman's reach; with a bald and febrile man of middle age presiding over the dice and drink, the sale
and cozenage; scenes which were varied and disturbed
by Lake's reports, by Montagu's divinity, and by
Archie's broad grins,-such was the court in which
the hoary and dying Northampton was seeking to
obtain the Staff.
Having failed in his hope of catching the Prince of
Wales, he turned his face elsewhere, and, having made
his calculations, taught his pupil how to bend her
beautiful, burning eyes on Carr.




ROBER T CARR.               219
CHAPTER XXXI.
ROBERT CARR.
ROBERT CARR was a Scottish lad of handsome person,
for whom James had conceived a sudden and ridiculous
whim.
The King, who could not live without having some
youth about him whom he could pat and pinch, tickle
and slobber, had cast his eyes in turn on Herbert and
Hay, young fellows with flowing beards, pink cheeks,
and empty skulls, who rarely troubled their brains
with anything worse than a masque and a saraband.
He kept his darling for a time, and then dethroned
him for some newer and fairer face; but the darling of
a day was seldom so unlucky as not to retire ennobled
and enriched. Hume, Herbert, Hay, were all created
Earls.
The Countess of Suffolk, knowing that the King
was blind to the beauty of women, laid herself out
to supply him with removes of handsome boys. She
spent her days in seeking for arch eyes, pink flesh,
and graceful forms; and, when. she had found her
Ganymede of an hour, she curled his locks and sweetened his breath to the royal taste. She taught these
youths to leave politics alone, and to devote their talents to the service of beauty, as imaginary Knights
of the Fortunate Isles, and to fight for such golden
truths asBeauty supplies the world with valor;
None but lovers can be happy;
No fair lady ever yet was false.




220       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
Carr was the youngest of these curled and silken
favorites. A page of Humne, he had spent some months
in Paris, where he learned to dress and dance, to ride
and run the ring. Coming to court, he put on his best
attire, and walked into the Tilt-yard, when the King
was present, in a scarlet frock, a foam of lace, and an
embroidered shirt. Contriving to be knocked over in
the game, he caught the King's eye by his fall; and
when James was told that the pretty boy was one of
Hume's old pages, he carried him up into his room,
put him into bed, and nursed him with his own hands,
until the strength of a roe returned to his feet and the
bloom of an apple to his cheek. Thus began his fortunes. In a few months the King dubbed him Sir
Robert, paid his debts, put jewels in his ears, swore
him of the bed-charmber, and promised him the Lady
Ann Clifford for a wife.
Left to his own devices, Carr would have risen like
Herbert and Hay, to set like Montgomery and Carlisle.
A coronet, a rich wife, a house in town, a chase in the
country, would have quenched his appetite for favor;
but by the side of Carr stood a young man, poor as
himself in purse, but richer in the gifts of wit, of
policy, and of speech. This youth was Thomas Overbury, a member of the house of Commons, a Puritan
in morals and in thought, if not in opinion, a poet, a
prose writer, a politician of consummate power. These
lads had come to court in company. Something in
Carr had taken the fancy of his more intellectual mate,
who, measuring James fromt head to heel, had seen his
way to making use of Carr in his attempt to rise.
Swearing a league of friendship, the two young men
had come to Whitehall with an understanding that, in
seeking a fortune which they were to share and share
alike, Carr was to find beauty of person, while Over



ROBER T CARR.                221
bury was to find strength of brain. They meant to
make a figure in the world.
In their first five years at court they rose very high;
for Carr, who was to enjoy the pleasures while Overbury was to exercise the powers of the high station
they might win, was lifted from the position of a private page to the state of an adviser and the rank of a
viscount. Overbury, careless of show, was satisfied
with being dubbed a knight and consulted in every
affair of State. A mall of subtle and commanding
genius, equal to many kinds of work, with powers of
mind which made him easy master of every craft,
Overbury had raised Carr to the height on which he
stood; but neither King nor court as yet knew the
strength of Overbury and the emptiness of Carr.
While the new Viscount reigned at court, Overbury
was the actual minister of the crown. " There was a
time," said Bacon on the trial, " when Overbury knew
more of the secrets of State than the whole Council."
What Bacon said afterward other people knew at the
time. In the City taverns it was a pasquil that Carr
ruled the King, and that Overbury ruled Carr.
To the outside world, the rise of this favorite was
that of a shooting star. Who could tell where his
flight would stop? He was now Viscount Rochester;
he had the promise of an earldom; inay, a Marquisate
of Orkney was likely to be his next birthday-gift. In
those years we had neither duke nor marquis in the
country, and a Marquis of Orkney would be the highest person in James's court. There were hints of the
King adopting him as a son. Here, then, was no
passing favorite, such as the world had seen in Herbert
and Hay. These men were liked; but Rochester was
all in all. After the death of Cecil, who had kept him
in his fitting place as a gentleman of the bed-chamber,
19*




222       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
Carr seemed to be the only man of whose presence and
advice the King was never tired. Acting on Overbury's lessons, and speaking the words set down for
him, the raw Scottish lad achieved a certain popularity, not only in the closet but in the street. He had
the name of a stanch Protestant, and the reputation
of an enemy of Spain. If his life was not lovely, he
was not more lax in morals than many who had less
than half his tempters to resist. No man's name, no
woman's fame, had yet been smirched by Carr. If
men could say that his rise had been swift, his accumulation of riches sudden, they could add, with truth,
that he had shown many of the virtues as well as some
of the vices of a royal favorite.  Even in temper,
gracious in bearing, bountiful in disposition, he had
gained admirers even where he had'not secured
friends. A man of Overbury's gifts could not have
worked with a fool. To the poets Carr was uniformly
kind; both Jonson and Donne have written in his
praise. Even Bacon, though he owed him nothing,
was not unwilling to grace him with a masque. For
the rest, his power to go wrong was checked by a
feeble will.
For two or three years this favorite had been watched
and thwarted by Northampton, Knollys, and Suffolk,
who saw that he was not as they were; though they
crossed him less for his own sake than for that of Overbury, whose principles and talents they equally feared
and shunned. On Cecil's death, a scramble had taken
place at court, not only for the White Staff, but for the
important post of Secretary of State. The place of
Secretary, though of less dignity than that of Treasurer, was of more importance, since the holder of' it
was in daily intercourse with the King; and a man of
active genius would be sure to make it the center of




ROBER T CARR.               223
every movement in the realm. The inner circle of the
Council was now composed of' three great peers, allied
in blood and marriage,-Northampton, his nephew
Suffolk, and that nephew's son-in-law, IKnollys; and
these great peers, in seeking to gain these offices for
their party, had the advantage of voting with a single
voice. Northampton spoke, and the younger men
obeyed. When they had got the Staff put into comnlission, as the only thing that could then be done,
they fought for the minor and nearer post of Secretary.
Winwood, Wotton, Bacon, Lake, were mentioned, as
men who could serve their country; but the King,
though he did not like to say so in the outset, was
resolved to have no other Secretary than Carr.
Now, Carr in the King's closet, writing letters on
public business, was, as Northampton felt, but another
form of having Overbury for a master. Carr was Overbury's voice; and Overbury was an enemy of Spain.
If Overbury were to shape the policy of James, Northamptoll and Suff'olk would hardly be worth their salt.
Lady Suffolk had already tried her arts on Carr;
but Overbury, whose morals were austere, though he
hungered after power even more than his ally after
flattery and female smiles, repelled her. Overbury
had a difficult game to play; for Carr, though popular
at court, was far from popular in the town. The qualities which took the King-his dainty face, his splendid
garb, and his Lowland Scotch-provoked the people
into scorn. The London crowd could not endure a
Scot. Poor in purse and quick in speech, his bold
eye, his ready hand, his saucy tongue, disgusted mnen
who either would not or could not see his nobler side.
To them, his courage was the merit of a mastiff, his
abstinence the virtue of a fox, his loyalty the cringing
of a slave. Even his religious ardor pained them, as




224       HElR MAJESTY'S TO WER.
a passion in excess; and no reproach appeared to them
severe enough for the roaring, rieving callant who aped
the fashion of a court in the midst of filth and rags.
Now, Carr, though handsome, civil, and well dressed,
was still a Scot; and Northampton made the King believe that to give him Cecil's post in the closet would
provoke a rising in the streets.
Unable to have his way, the King declared that in
the fiuture he would act as Secretary of State himself.
Northampton was not deceived by James's move.
He saw that Carr was rising in the world; and, hungering after posts which none but Carr could give him, he
was base enough not only to dream of gaining him
over to their party through his lovely niece, but shanmeless enough to teach that girl how to lay her beauty in
his path.
The young lady did not need much training to go
wrong. She knew the way too well. Only too early
in her life she had found a priestess of indulgence in
Ann Turner, the famous White Witch. Ann, who had
been a lovely girl, was still a winsome woman, white,
graceful, slender, looking like a lady of birth, a little
faded from her prime. Even when she stood, years
later, at the bar of justice, the poets could only sing,", The roses on her lovely cheeks were dead."
Now, this White Witch professed, among other arts,
to understand how to preserve youth, to kindle love,
and to chill desire. In the task which Northarmpton.
set her, Lady Essex had need of all her charms. From
Ann Turner the, fair Countess got one philter to chill
the man she called her husband, another to warm the
man she wished to call her lover. When these philters
failed to work her ends, at least on Essex, who truly
loved his wife, Ann took her noble pupil to a great




ROBERT CARR.                225
magician living in a lonely house in Lambeth Fields.
This sorcerer was Simon Forman, a fellow known to
be driving a brisk and profitable trade in potions,
horoscopes, and charms. Forman had more to do
with great ladies than Mayerne himself; and, as he
impudently set down in his diaries, he took his payment from these dupes in various ways. This knave
supplied the young Countess of Essex with enchanted
papers, a few wax puppets, a scarf full of white crosses,
and a piece of human skin. Later on, he adopted her
as his " daughter" in the black art, permitting her to
call him " father," and giving her a scroll on which
he had noted for her use a list of the principal imps
in hell.
Lady Essex had scant need for magic. Carr was
only too soon in love with her bright eyes, and asking
no aid from Forman's scrolls and fiends. Northampton played Old Pandarus to this guilty pair, just as he
had done when Cecil was the Troilus, Lady Suffolk the
Cressida, of his play. He put the young wife in the
young favorite's way, and even lent them his house to
meet in. Often beneath the roof, sometimes in the
sight, of that old man, they kissed and swore to each
other to be true.
Suffolk, younger and less base than his uncle, forced
his daughter to live in her husband's house. Essex,
though grieving to see that his wife's heart was gone
from him, never dreamt that her honor was also gone;
and, kind in temper as he was princely in gifts, he set
himself to win once more the love which for the moment
he saw that he had lost. She pouted, raved, and mocked
him, hoping he would flash into anger and turn her out
of doors. Her husband bore with these humors, thinking they were but the ways of young married girls. His
wife was dark to him as night. Nor could two such




226        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
natures as his and hers come nearer than they stood.
He, pious and severe, rode to sermon; she, profligate
and superstitious, went to mass. He loved the country,
while she adored the town. Masques, balls, processions, priests, dress, sports, and triumphs, all the things
to which her heart lay open, he would have shunned
for himself and for the woman whom he loved. Early
hours, long rides through the summer woods, attention
to the poor and sick, the duties of a country household,
all that round of love and usefulness which Essex craved
as the purest work that he could find on earth, his
Countess flung at his feet in anger and contempt.
Ann Turner's service to her mistress did not end in
the magician's study. She hired a house for her in the
medical quarter of St. Paul's, near Amen Corner, in
which she might meet her lover, unseen by watchful
critics of the court. Carr was young and she was fair.
No devil on Forman's list found more delight in doing
wrong than Lady Essex. Yet, in the midst of all her
profligacy, she was careful to make her game. Lord
Rochester being the most powerful man at Whitehall,
she made up her mind to share his power, —not for a
season only, but for life.
The obstacles in her path were vast. She had a husband to get rid of; Rochester, a friend to put away;
and with these two men she was only too well aware
that she would have to conduct a duel to the death.




THE POWDER POISONING.             227
CHAPTER  XXXII.
THE POWDER POISONING.
ESSEX, a man of high rank, was proud of his name,
and quick to avenge affronts. How could she get rid
of such a man? She thought of poison; she thought
of steel; she thought of Holy Church. A divorce would
be the best of all; but how could a divorce be got?
The only plea to be set up in such a case as hers-that
of nullity from the first-was one which no man likes
to admit and few women like to urge.
Listening, now to Northampton, now to Ann Turner,
she conceived a triple scheme for getting rid of the husband whose name she bore. She egged on her brother
Henry to send him a challenge; she paid the Lambeth
wizard to waste his strength by magic; she gave a diamond ring, with the promise of a thousand pounds, to
Mary Wood, a Norfolk haog, renowned for ridding ladies
of their inconvenient lords, for a philter warranted to
kill in three days. But all these efforts failed her. The
King forbade the duel; the wizard's dolls and scarfs
were powerless; and the Norfolk hag deceived her with
a philter which would not kill. When magic, steel, and
poison failed her, she fell back on her idea of divorce.
While the Countess was poring through the ways
and means for getting a divorce from Essex, the White
Witch and somle lesser agents of evil were employed in
removing Overbury from her path. In spite of his high
talents, Overbury lay open to such arts as Northampton's corrupt nature and Italian education had taught
him to abuse. Pride of genius led him into unwise




228       HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
scorn of men who had been schooled to rise by paths
more devious than his own. The very frankness of his
opposition to Spain armed Northampton against him,
while his nobleness of soul prevented him from seeing
to what desperate shifts a man of such high rank could
stoop. He overrated Carr; not his power of resisting
money and favor,-for there his friend was strong,but his power of resisting the more perilous trial of
liquid eyes and a wanton tongue. A sense of original
force, which, often as it was tried, had never yet failed
him, gave to Overbury's native haughtiness an austerity
and emphasis very hard to bear. The Queen complained
of him; the King resented his scornful tone; and citizens wagered their golden angels as to which was the
proudest, Raleigh, Overbury, or Lucifer. The prize was
given to Overbury. None of the courtiers loved him,
for he took no pains to please them. Weak on every
side except that of his intellect, he invited and defied
Northampton's arts.
So long as Overbury thought his friend's intrigue
with Lady Essex was the fancy of a day, he let it pass
in silence, smiling grimly at the old man's baseness
in selling the honor of his house for a mess of pottage;
but he felt that it would never do for him to let this
fancy of a moment sink into a permanent madness of
the heart; and when he saw that Carr was running
after the siren day and night, he warned him gravely
against her vicious wiles. He spoke too late. Calypso
had sung her slave to sleep. A fact came out by accident to have startled him from his dream of enduring
happiness with such a woman. Mary Wood, the Norfolk hag, was arrested for petty theft, and, in her rage
at being abandoned by her noble patrons, confessed
her name, her trade, and her employers. The story of
the poisonous drug and the diamond ring was told;




THE POWDER POISONING.             229
and( the truth of her tale was confirmed by Richard
Grimston, the pursuivant, on a very important point.
This story was referred to the Council, in which her
kinsmen sat; but the secret inquiry came to Overbury's ears and roused him to take a decided course.
With consummate art,-for Carr was proud and hasty,
not to be schooled too openly, —he warned him against
her alluring smiles, now tickling him with easy banter,
now stinging him with grave advice. To show what
sort of woman a man should seek in wedlock, he
wrote his poem called The Wife; that gracious picture of holy love in contrast with unholy lust. A wise
man, said the poet, first seeks in a wife-not beauty,
rank, and wealth; fools seek for such things first; but
— the higher virtues of the soul. First, he hopes to
find her good-then wise-then fit-and last of all
comely. All that Lady Essex was, he urged his friiend
to shun. But Carr slept soundly in Calypso's lap, as
deaf to the poet's verse as he had been to the Witch's
charge.
Lady Essex and her Nestor now resolved that he
must die. Their plans required his death. That he
could stop their suit for a divorce, they knew; that he
would use his power, they also knew. Less than his
blood would neither serve their ambition nor appease
their wrath. At first they thought of hiringan assassin.
Unlike Essex, the poet was not a master of his sword;
and Lady Essex sent to Greenwich for Sir David Wood,
a soldier of fortune, who had been crossed by Overbury in a job. "I am told you have grievous wrongs
against Sir Thomas Overbury," she began at once: "I
am also told you are a brave gentleman. He who has
wronge(l you has wronged me. I should be glad to
hear he is no more."  Wood hung fire. They were
alone in her chamber, and she quickly explained lier
SER. 11.           20




230        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
hints. She told him that she wished him to kill Sir
Thomas; she promised him a thousand pounds, and
offered him the friendship of Carr and the protection
of all her kin. Wood was willing, but only on condition that Carr should come forward in person and assure him before a witness of his safety when the deed
was done. She promised that Carr should give that
pledge. But she dared not ask her lover for such a
promise; and, sending  for Wood once more, she told him
she would pledge her ownl life for his safety, come what
might. Wood answered, bluntly, that he was not such
a fool as to go to Tyburn on a lady's word. "Why,"
urged the Countess, " the thing is easily done: he
sups every night at Sir Charles Wilmot's house; stop
his coach; drag him out and run him through."  The
bravo shook his head and, left her in despair.
Northampton hit upon a safer plan.
The King was not fond of Overbury; and the pages
who were near him, taking Northampton's cue, began
to fret his ear by telling him that the people who met
in fairs and taverns made jests against him, saying that
he could not rule his realn without Overbury, since
Overbury found all the wit for Carr, and Carr found
all the wit for him. James swore a big oath that Overbury should be sent abroad,-as far as Moscoxv,-if
only to let folk see whether the King could not rule
without his aid. Overbury declined to go. They had
taken care beforehald that he should decline, and so
offend the King; but he had only refused the task on
Rochester begging him not to go, since the proposal
was a trick of their eneneies to put the seas between
them. Thus, he declined; when James, incensed at
his refusal of so high a trust, gave orders for liis instant
arrest.
Overbury was lodged in the Bl3oody tower.




THE POWDER POISONING.            231
Out of sight, the poet soon fell out of Carr's rememirance.  IIhow far Rochester consented to his murder
is uncertain; though it is clear that many of the steps
which led to it were taken by him in person. Lady
Essex and the White Witch had resolved to poison
Overbury long before he was committed to the Tower.
When they had locked him fast, they fell to work, like
artists knowing what they meant to do.
The first step was to change the Lieutenant; for
Waad, though insolent and slavish, was not the man
to put his neck into a coil of rope by murdering one
of his prisoners in open day. Who could assure him
that his deed would never come to light? Murder will
out; and when murder comes out, it is hard for any
man to cheat the gallows of its due. Northampton
had his agent ready; and when he sent for Waad to
his mansion at Charing Cross, that agent was waiting
ill a room below. The Earl accused Waad of beilng too
lenient with his new prisoner, and told him bluntly
that he should not go back to his post. Waad was surprised; but on Northampton hinting that much of Lady
Arabella's plate was missing, and that the Lieutenant
was supposed to know what had become of it, he was so
much frightened that he gave up his commission on the
spot. He left Northampton House with fourteen hundred pounds in his pocket, and a promise of six hundred pounds more if he would only hold his tongue.
A ruined gambler, one Sir Gervase Helwyss, was then
brought in. What passed between the proud peer and
the obscure knight we shall never learn; but that very
night, without a warrant, without an oath, this ruffian
was installed as Lieutenant of the Tower. The note
of his appointment was scrawled at Northampton
House, an(l the record of it afterward inserted in a
blank corner of the Council-book. All his instruc



232       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
tions, as to the treatment of his prisoner, Helwyss
received directly from the Lord Privy Seal.
The second step was to change the keeper; for ill
such a business they could not trust an ordinary fellow
to do their will. In Ann Turner's house there lived a
servant worthy of such a mistress,-one Richard Weston, a tailor, with a soul too big for a yard and goose.
HIavinig tried his skill in sorcery and coining, he had
run through a round of jails before adopting the more
profitable trade of pimp. As Mrs. Turner's man, he
had been employed to carry notes from the Countess
to Carr, to arrange their guilty pleasures in Paternoster
Row, to watch over their secret meetings at the Brentford farm. Iie knew his masters, and they knew their
tool. A bag of gold would buy him, body and soul;
and the Countess never paused to count the cost of
what she had a mind to buy. She asked Sir Thomas
Monson to get this fellow appointed keeper in the
Bloody tower; but Monson, though eager to oblige so
great a lady, thought it well to consult the Privy Seal,
-an act of prudence to which he afterward owed his
life. Northampton told him not only that Weston's
appointment to wait on Overbury would be right, but
that the King himself wished Weston to be placed in
charge. Monson took him to the Tower and put him
in the poet's room.
From that night Overbury's strength began to fail.
Though his offense was only a contempt, he was confined more strictly than men who had been condemned
to die. A secret order from Northampton closed up
every avenue to the Bloody tower. Sir Nicholas, his
father, and Lady Lydcot, his sister, were turned away
from his door. Lydcot moved the court for leave to
visit him, but he was only allowed to see him at his
grated window. Davis, one of his men, proposed to be




THE POWDER POISONING.             233
locked up with his master, day and nigrllt; and he was
kicked away from the Tower. Sir Robert Killigrew,
the physician, was clapped in the Fleet for trying to
speak with him.  Even Rochester's messages were
stopped. Northampton was resolved that he should
die, and he took pains that none save creatures of his
own should enter into Overbury's cell. Yet the poet's
strong stomach caused much delay; and letters got in
and out, in spite of the Lieutenant's care. Monson
told the Lieutenant that notes might pass under his
eye in tarts and jellies, if he were not sharp; and when
Simon Marson, the King's musician, brought to the
Tower a present of jellies, which Lady Essex wished
to be given to Overbury in the name of Carr, the Lieutenant, poking into them for correspondence, found
that they were poisoned, and refused to let them pass.
Weston sneered at such scruples; but Helwyss could
not tell how far his employers wished him to go, and
he had a strong desire to escape a murderer's doom.
On Tower Hill, in a small shop, lived one James
Franklin, an apothecary, less honest in his trade than
he who put poison into Romeo's hands. Like all the
agents employed by LadyEssex, Franklin was a Papist;
and this fellow, though he professed to keep a devil,
and was said to have poisoned his wife, was brought
to assist in commritting murder, not only by the payment of a hundred and twenty pounds in gold, but by
the hope of doing good service to his Church. From
Franklin, Weston received a phial of stuff like water,
which Mrs. Turner instructed him how to mix with
his prisoner's drink.  But IHelwyss, still in doubt,
detained the phial, and poured the drug upon the
ground, even while he was suffering Weston to lay the
tarts and jellies from Lady Essex on the prisoner's
dish.
20*




234       HER  IMAJES TY'S TOWER.
These poisons crept into the poet's veins. His cheek
began to pale, and his voice to drop. On Overbury
begging in his misery that a friend and a physician
might come to see him, Rochester appeared in person
before the Council, and procured a warrant for Lydcot
and Killigrew to enter his cell; but when the favorite
was gone away from the Council-board, Northampton
and Suffolk revoked their pass. The prisoner, they
wrote to Helwyss, must be closely kept; and, if he
needed a physician, they would send one to him.
To draw his mind from thoughts of their foul play,
Suffolk caused Overbury to be told that Rochester and
he were on bad terms; and, on Northampton's hints,
he even went so far in this deceit as to ask for Overbury's good offices with Rochester, in return for his
own in Overbury's favor with the King. Northampton took these messages to the Tower; and, when the
poet was thought to be off his guard, the French
adventurer, Mayerne, rode down to the Bloody tower
and marked his prisoner with a poisoner's eye. Lobel,
a French apothecary, and Reeve, his English boy, were
appointed to do the deed.
The poet knew that he was being poisoned. Helwyss
told him that Lord Rochester had sent him an emetic,
as his lordship wished him to look sick, in order that
the King's compassionate feelings might be touched.
The poet was annoyed at such feeble tricks; and
Northampton schooled his Lieutenant into exciting
Overbury to use the language of reproach toward
Rochester, while he himself pressed on the work of
drugging him to death. When all was ready, Lobel
made the glister, which his apprentice Reeve applied.
The poet was no more.




THE EEND.                235
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE END.
CARR heard of the poet's death without a sigh. The
courtiers who watched him closely saw, or afterward
thought they saw, a gleam of unusual brightness pass
across his face when he heard the news. He flew to
his enchantress, told her the story of his death, and
sealed her rapture with a lover's kiss.
Northampton, fearing that men's tongues would wag
against him in the city, requested Helwyss to send for
Lydcot to the Tower, but to take care that the corpse
should be buried before he came. The poet was put
under ground before his flesh was cold.
The wedding-day was fixed, the feast of St. Stephen,
1613. Rochester was made an Earl, so that Lady
Essex would not have to descend from her former rank
by marrying him. Sherborne Castle was torn from
Raleigh to provide them with a country-seat. Lady
Raleigh put up her hands to heaven; and then the
splendid nuptials of the Earl and Countess of Somerset
were celebrated in the royal chapel at Whitehall, with
a splendid ceremony, a round of dances, and a gorgeous
masque.
Just eight years earlier, on the same day, in the
same chapel, before the same King and Queen, in
presence of nearly all the same lords and ladies, with
the same officiating bishop, the young lady, then a fair
and innocent child, had been married to the young
and handsome Earl of Essex. Two years later, that
brilliant throng was scattered to the winds. The hero




236       HER MAJESTY'S TO WER.
and heroine of that day, now man and wife, with their
passions chilled, their spirits broken, their lives forfeited, were lying in the Tower, a bickering and unhappy pair, conscious of their fall, and eager to impute
their ruin to each other's crimes. Lady Somerset now
contemned her low-born husband; Lord Somerset now
abhorred his wicked wife.
Northampton never got the White Staff for which
he had done so much, for nature could not wait, and
when the surgeons who were called to Northampton
House had cut the putrid sore in his side, he fell at
once. A priest, who waited in his chamber, gave him
the host, laid pall and cross on his bed, and set tapers
burning for him night and day. He died with yells of
accusation ringing in his ears, which all his power as a
Privy Councilor could not silence. Peers, burgesses,
and citizens accused him of being not only a Papist
and a pensioner of Spain, but the secret soul of all
the Catholic plots. In vain he raved and stormed; in
vain he threw himself at the favorite's feet; in vain
he pointed out what he had done against Fawkes and
Garnet. The mask was falling from his face, and men
began to see him for what he was. He died in a gorgeous chamber of Northampton House (June, 1614),in time, but only just in time, to save himself from a
cell in the Bloody tower.
For the poet in his grave had begun to make war
on the peer in his palace. Friends of Overbury, who
were also friends of virtue, had printed his poem The
Wife, and the public snapped up five editions of that
noble satire in as many months. The reader of the
poem talked of the poet, and then old tales were told
once more about the manner of his death. An accident gave to these rumors a sudden, ominous shape;
for Reeve, the French apothecary's lad, fell sick in




THE END.                 237
Flanders, and in his agony of conscience spread the
news of what his master had been hired to do. Trumball, the English Resident in Flanders, hastened home
with this report, not daring to write such words as
Reeve had spoken in his fear and pain. Winwood,
the new Secretary of State, a Puritan, who hated the
Howards with a good deal of secret energy, received
Truinball's news with a grim delight, and sent him
back to Flanders, with orders to keep an eye upon
the lad.
Winwood moved with a wary step, for the boy's
confession touched the fame of some of the highest
persons in the realm. He dropped some hints that
Helwyss was unfit for such a post as Lieutenant of
the Tower; and when that officer, in trying to excuse
himself, had half confessed his guilt, the Secretary of
State rode down to Royston and laid his proofs before
the King.
James read the confessions, and sent them on to
Coke, by whom a swift and secret search was made
for further facts. The injured Waad came forward;
and his evidence touched not only the more active
agents in the crime, but Monson, Northampton, Lady
Somerset, and Carr. After he had arrested Mrs.
Turner, her man Weston, and the apothecary Franklin, Coke applied for powers to examine Helwyss,
Mayerne, and Sir Thomas Monson. The facts which
came to light suggested that the murder of Overbury,
daring and open as it was, had been no more than a
single act in a great drama of public crime. Ann
Turner spoke of Prince Itenry as having been poisoned
with a bunch of grapes; and Weston talked of wizards
and druggists going over to IIeidelberg with orders to
cut off Frederick and Elizabeth. Carr began to tremble; and, thinking it might be well to cover his past




238       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
life by a general pardon, he sent for Sir Robert Cotton
to his room, and begged that antiquary to seek among
his papers for the largest pardon ever granted by a
sovereign prince. Cotton found a pardon issued by a
Pope for the crimes of treason, murder, felony, and
rape, and on the model of this grant the Earl of Som.erset drew a pardon for himself and got the document signed by James. But Ellesmere refused to
pass it, saying that to put the Great Seal of England
to such a paper would subject the Lord Chancellor to
a premunire.
Coke was so far ready with his proofs, that the King
was forced to appoint a commission of inquiry into the
poet's death; Ellesnlere, Lennox, Zouch, and Coke
were the commissioners; and their meetings were
held in the Lord Chancellor's residence, York House,
to which they summoned HIelwyss and Monson, as
well as Weston, Franklin, and Mrs. Turner. Weston
told them the story of his crime, the love-affairs of
Lady Essex and Carr, the secret meetings in Paternoster Row and at the Brentford farm, the original
prompting of Lady Essex to the murder, the promises
given in her name by Mrs. Turner, the appointment
made through Monson for him to wait in the Bloody
tower, the failure of his philters, the altercation with
Helwyss, the receipt of the poisoned tarts and jellies,
the impatience of Lady Essex to have the thing done,
the visit of Mayerne, the employment of Lobel, and
the glisters which caused the prisoner's death. Ere
long, Mrs. Turner and Franklin confessed their guilt;
the first giving up the implements of magic received
by her from Forman, —the roll of devils, the scarf of
white crosses, the bundle of waxen dolls, and the scrap
of human skin; the second raving against his imp and
his employer,-one for not warning him in time, the




THE END.                   239
other for bewitching him to his ruin and then leavingT
him to perish.
The day of Lord and Lady Somerset was come. In
raking up evidence against Mrs. Turner, the Commissioners found that on the day of her arrest Lady Somerset had not only sent her secret messages to fear
nothing, but had got her husband to sign a warrant
for Johni Poulton, a pursuivant, to search the Beaver
Hat, a house near Temple Bar, and to bring away all
the papers which he found there in a certain trunk
and bag. The Beaver Hat was kept by Weston's son,
and Poulton was accompanied in his search by Lady
Somerset's maid. The contents of these papers could
be guessed, and, when the Commissioners learned that
Poulton had taken them  to Somerset's house, they
dispatched their messenger with orders for the Earl to
keep his lodging near the Cockpit, and for the Countess
to remain either in her own house at Blackfriars, or
Nwith her elder sister, Lady Knollys, near the Tilt-yard.
IIusband and wife were not to see each other. A messenger bore a letter to Royston, where the KTing was
hunting, signed by Egertoxn, Lennox, Zouch, and Coke,
urging that the proofs against Somerset were now so
strong that he ought to be stripped of the Seals and
lodged for safety in the Tower.
James kissed his favorite and gave him up.
The tools of Lady Somerset were quickly put away.
IIelwyss was hanged in chaisns, and the gibbet on
which he swunog was left to stand for a wvarning on
Tower tIill. Mrs. Turner was huing at Tyburn, in her
yellow bands and powdered hair, in the presence of a
mighty crowd, many of whom wept for the beautiful
thloughl faded creature who knew the secret ways to
all female hearts. Slle stood on the gallows, raviing  at
the world she was about to leave, and callingo downl fir'e




240       HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
from heaven to consume it in the midst of sin and
shame. Franklin and Westorl were strung up like
dogs.
How was justice to deal with the greatest criminal
of all?  Could a lady of the race of Howard be hung
for a private murder?
Somerset had burned the papers seized by Poulton
at the Beaver Hat; but the confessions wrung from
Weston, Franklin, Helwyss, and Mrs. Turner would
have sufficed to hang the principals, had such been
the KIinog's desire. Taken from his lodgings near the
Cockpit, Somerset was placed under charge of Sir
Oliver St. John; and when the Privy Seal had been
taken from him, he was carried, with a single servant,
to the Tower. As lie passed from Water Lane through
the dark archway, Raleigh was coming out. "It is
the case of Haman and Mordecai," said the great captive, then going out into fieedom. James was told of
this speech. "Raleigh," he observed, "may die in
that deceit."  The King was probably of Carr's opinion, that the storm would soon whirl by.
Sir George More, the new Lieutenant, conducted the
Earl and Countess of Somerset to the Bloody tower,
and bade them enter. "'Put me not in there!" cried
Lady Somerset, white with terror. She knew it was
the room in which she had murdlered her husband's
friend. "I shall never sleep again!" she shrieked;
"his ghost will haunt my bed! put me elsewhere!"
Sonlerset went in; and the Lieutenant urged her to
follow him. In fact, he had no other lodging ready
for prisoners of such high rank. But she would not
stir. "Put me elsewhere! put me elsewhere!" she
sobbed. Sir George had to carry her back to his own
apartments, until Raleigh's house in the garden could
be got ready for her use.




THE END.                  241
Somerset raged and pouted in his prison, bullying
the new Lieutenant, Sir George More,-sending for
Lord Hay,-demanding to see the King. When told
that Sir George must write any message which he
wished to be forwarded to James, he refused to send
at all. When the Commissioners offered to hear him,
he turned on his heel with a gesture of contempt.
At court the conflict of opposing forces raged with
fury, for the Howards and their kinsfolk were a party
in the state, with nearly half the public offices in their
hands. Suffolk had got the Staff for which his uncle
pined. Among them the Howards had the Mint, the
Treasury, the Admiralty, the Army, the Household,
the Cinque Ports, and the Channel Fleet; and as LordLieutenants they commanded the nine counties of
Berks, Oxon, Cambridge, Norfolk, Suffolk, Surrey,
Dorset, Herts, and Kent. Opposed to this great family
were the Puritans and patriots of every shade,-men
so various in opinion and accomplishment as Pembroke and Bacon, Winwood and Raleigh, Villiers and
Southampton. Clever as the courtiers were in guessing, they could not say which side would prove the
stronger. Writing his Golden Age for a Christmas
masque, Ben Jonson trimmed his verse to the uncertain winds; but nobler poets than Jonson spoke the
indignant passions of the time. Ford, with fearless
chivalry, composed a history of Overbury's Life and
Death. He also wrote some verses on The Wife,- as
did a stronger and wiser pen than that of Ford. In
the massive measure and volcanic heat of the lines by
WV. S. (prefixed to the seventh edition, and published
in the exciting days between the arrest and trial) sonicme
critics see the last public service dolne by Shakspeare.
It is certain that his patrons, Pemnbroke and SouthSEaR. I1.          21




242        HER MAJESTY'S TOWER.
ampton, took a leading part in bringing the poet's
murderers to account.
The King's heart melted toward his minion, but he
dared not free him from the Tower until his innocence
had been proved in an open court. The town was full
of Overbury, and books of which he was the hero were
on every stall in Cheape and Fleet Street. A ninth
edition of The Wife appeared, and a companion poem,
called The Husband, was brought out. Overbury was
known to have been a Protestant, an enemy of Spain;
so that patriotic passion entered deeply into the cry
for justice on his murderers, and the King was borne
upon a stream which he could neither stein nor turn.
When the Commissioners closed their labors, and
fixed the day of Lady Somerset's trial (May 24, 1616),
the arraignment was considered by the country as a
national solemnity.  All private business was suspended for a time. The shops were closed, the parks
deserted. Every one who could afford to spend five
double angels bought a seat in Westminster Hall; and
the thousands who could not press inside the HIall
choked up the avenues of Palace Yard, in order to
catch the first news that the weak Earl and his bad
Countess had been convicted of murder and condemnned
to die.
The Countess held up her hand in answer to her name.
A warder stood beside her with the axe. Attired in a
gown of black tamrnel, a cypress chaperon, and a large
lawn ruff; looking as penitent as she was beautiful,
she bent her pale face to her judges, pleading guilty
to her crime. Bacons, as the Attorney-General, spoke
without harshness to the fallen Countess; Ellesmere,
as Lord Chancellor, pronounced her sentence; and the
warder, as executioner of the court, turned toward her
the gleaming steel. She shed abundant tears, alld




THE END.                 243
begged the Lords to intercede for mercy with the
King.
That night, Sir George More was alone with Somerset in his room. The prisoner was morose and threatening, though he knew that his wife had pleaded guilty
and been condemned to die. He defied the judges and
the peers. He said he would not answer to his name.
More hinted that the King was anxious that he should
confess his crime, accept a verdict, and trust his bounty
for the rest. But Somerset would not yield. For six
or seven days there had been much negotiation between
the crown and the prisoner. Lord Hay had been
chosen on the part of James. Sir George had been
authorized to make Carr a specific promise that, on
pleading guilty and evading proof, the life of Lady
Somerset should be spared and his own honor as a peer
should be saved. He rejected every offer. IHe said he
would not plead. In look and tone, if not in words, he
dared the court to bring him before his peers.
Late in the evening, More took horse for Greenwich, and, after a midnight interview with the King,
rode back to the Tower.
Early in the May morning, More was at the door of
Somerset's room. The Earl was already dressed,-in
black, as if in mourning for his wife. He wore a plain
black satin suit, laid with two satin laces in a seam; a
gown of velvet lined with unshorn fleece; the sleeves
trimmed with lace, and the gloves adorned with satin
tops. He had the George about his neck. His hair
was neatly curled, and his beard fell richly on his
chest. More noticed that his eyes were sunk in his
head, and that his face was very pale.
A moment before he stood up in court, the Lieutenant whispered in his ear that if he said one word
against the King  he should be dragged down, sen



244       HER MAJESTY'S TOW ER.
tenced in his absence, and immediately put to death.
To show his prisoner that he meant what he was saying, he placed two strong fellows close to him, each
with a cloak on his arm, with orders to watch his lips,
and, on a word being dropped about the King, to throw
their cloaks over his face, pull him down, and hurry
him away on the ground that he was mad.
Somerset denied the charge, and put his accusers to
the proof. That part of the evidence which concerned
Mayerne, Lobel, and his boy Reeve had been suppressed; and the court could not prove his guilt unless
that evidence were produced. Bacon was very skillful;
but his proofs were vague and incomplete. The long
May day wore out in speeches which divided and perplexed the public; and when the torchmen entered
with their lights, the darkness in the street was not
more evident than the darkness in the hall of justice.
Ellesmere asked for a verdict, and broke his staff; but,
when Somerset went back to the Tower that night, no
one could say that he was guilty of the murder, though
every one knew that he had been condemned to die.
The Earl and Countess of Somerset came near together once again, but not as man and wife who love
and trust each other. The doors of the Bloody tower and
of the Garden house were left ajar, and they were sonmetimes overheard in angry talk. If Overbury's ghost
could have visited them, either by day or night, the
murdered man might have felt avenged by a misery so
complete.
Their dream of state was gone; their hope of rest
not come. The last years of their lives were to be
spent in poverty, in loneliness, in mutual scorn. In
time, on a pardon being vouchsafed them by the King,
they left the Bloody tower and Garden house together,
— going away, men said, to live in some country place,




THE END.                 245
in a small house which had been left to them. There
they dwelt under a common roof for a good many
years to come; living apart; nursing a blue-eyed girl
who had been born to them whilst they lay under the
charge of murder; but otherwise groaning in a state of
misery which was not untruly described as hell upon
earth.
But out of evil comes, not seldom, by a higher law
than men can fashion, a form of goodness to redeem it.
Even as a lily feeds and grows out of dust and ashes,
that blue-eyed girl, the child of so much sin, was to
grow up in that secluded house, ignorant of her
mother's shame, into one of the purest and proudest
mothers in a land illustrious for her noble women.
Lady Ann Carr was the only child of the guilty pair;
and this daughter of a murderess lived to become the
mother of that Lord William Russell who was to lay
his head upon the block in the very same cause for
which Raleigh died.
21*








I N D E X.
Abbott, Bishop, charges Father Audley  End, a seat of Lord
Garnet with being an habitual   Northampton, 216.
drunkard, 17.
Abington, Mr., builds Hendlip
Hall as a place of concealment Bacon, Lord, conferences on the
for priests, 145; assists his wife   legislative union of England
in concealing Father Garnet   and Scotland between him ahd
and others, 146, 148; is taken    Lord Advocate Hamilton held
prisoner and conveyed to Wor-   in Vinegar House, 98; his high
cester jail, 149; from  thence    opinion of the Earl of Northto the Fleet, 153.               umberland, 170; his character
Abington, Mrs., a sister of Lord    of Sir Thomas Overbury, 221;
Monteagle, conceals  Garnet,   his acknowledgment of  the
and the other priests, in Hend-   kindness of Carr, 222; is menlip Hall, 145-148.               tioned as one able to fulfill the
" Adventure," war-ship, pursues    duties of Secretary of State, 223;
and overtakes Lady Arabella   is the Attorney-General at the
Stuart, 202.                     trial of Lady Somerset, 242.
Anglo-Spanish plot, 13, 20; its Baldwin, William, a Jesuit priest,
instigators and object, 14; the    41.
plots it gave rise to, 15.     Balliuni wall, 172.
Aquaviva, Claudius, General of Banbury, Countess of, her notothe Jesuits, 37.                 rietv, 215.
Arabella plot, so called, 60; a Bancroft, Archbishop, his seizure
real, 181-212. See Stuart, Lady    and release of Father Watson,
Arabella.                        50; receives information from
Archie at the court of King    the Jesuits of the Priests' Plot,
James, 218.                      57; the Earl of NorthumberAremberg, Count, indicted  by   land intrusted to his custody
Coke as concerned in the Span-   prior to his committal to the
ish Treason, 58; charges against   Tower, 173.
him withdrawn, 60.             Barneby, Father, is instructed by
Arundel, Lady, vainly endeavors   the Jesuits to give information
to procure the release of her   of the Priests' Plot to Archconfessor, Father Weston, 40.    bishop Bancroft, 57; is comArundel, Lord. See Philip How-   mitted to the Clink prison, 58;
ard.                             is restored to liberty, 66.
Ashby St. Leger, arrival of the Barnet, East, escape of Lady AraPowder-Plot conspirators  at,   bella Stuart from, 199-201.
131.
(247)




248                       INDEX.
Barnet, conference of Catesby Bothwell, Earl of, murder of
and Treshani at, 121, 122.      Darnley on the Kirk of Field,
Bates, Tom,  serving-man  to   88.
Catesby, is admitted  to  the Bradshawe, Mrs., accompanies
Powder Plot, and takes the    Lady Arabella Stuart in her
oath of secrecy, 104; makes   escape from East Barnet, 199confession to Father Greenway,   201.
ib.; is told by the priest that Brentford Farm, illicit meetings
the cause is good, ib.; is sent to   between Carr and Lady Essex
Fathers Garnet and Greenway   at, 232, 238.
with the intelligence of the dis- Brick Tower, Lord Grey impriscovery of the Plot, 132, 133;   oned in the, 13, 66, 67; hired
deserts Catesby at Holbeach,   by the Earl of Northumberland
134; is taken prisoner, 136;   as an occasional residence for
confessions wrung from him in   his son Algernon, 177.
the Tower, 141, 142; is hung  Bromley, Sir Henry, is ordered
near Paul's Cross, 144.         by the Council to search HendBath, conferences of Catesby and   lip Hall for the priests conPercy at, 104.                  cealed there, 145; his discovery
Baynham, Sir Edmund, is sent   of them, 147, 148; his treatby Father Owen to prepare the   ment of Garnet and Oldcorne,
Roman Court for the conse-   149, 150.
quences of the Powder Plot, Brooke, George, is induced by
103.                            Father Watson to join him in
Beauchamp tower, 172.             the Priests' Plot, 53, 54; his
Belfry, the, 14, 69.              interviews with Lord Grey, 54,
Blackwall, Arabella Stuart's dis-   55; is committed to the Tower,
appointment at not finding    58; charges of treason against
William Seymour there, 200.     him, ib.; is condemned to die,
Blackwell, George, Catholic arch-   61; his execution, 62.
priest, papal breve addressed, Brooksby, Bartholomew, his debut not delivered, to him, 85;   votion to the Jesuits, 45; is
denounces the Powder Plot to   employed by them to act as a
the Catholic clergy, 136.       spy on the instigators of the
Blague, John, marries Lady Ara-   Priests' Plot, 53; is taken prisbella Stuart and William Sey-   oner and carried to MTinchester,
mour, 187; is committed to the   61; is condemned to die, ib.; is
Gate house in Westminster, ib.   pardoned and restored to his
Blood, Colonel, his desperate at-   position, 66.
tempt to seize the crown, 174.  Brooksby, Mrs. Helen, daughter
Bloody tower, 13; Garnet and   of Lord Vaux, her connection
Oldcorne confined in the, 13,   with Father Garnet, 15, 53.
151, 158; Sir Thomas Overbury  Browne, Anthony  Maria, Vispoisoned in, 14, 230, 234; Lord   count Montagu, is apprehended
and Lady Somerset prisoners   and committed to the Tower,
in, 14, 240-244.                163; his examination before the
Blount, Charles, Earl of Devon,   Star Chamber, 165; his accusaLord Lieutenant of Ireland,   tions and explanations, 163one of the lords commissioners   165; his condemnation and imappointed by King James to   prisonment, 165.
examine Guy Fawkes in the Burnell, Captain, a spy in the pay
Tower, 75.                      of Cecil, 24, 25.




INDEX.                         249
Butcher Row, the oath of secrecy    Stuart, 197; begs Sir Robert
administered  to the Powder   Cotton to seek the largest parPlot conspirators in a house in,   don ever granted by a sovereign,
95.                             238; draws up a pardon for himBye Plot, the, 60.                self, and prevails on the King
Byeward gate, 172, 203.           to sign it, but which Ellesmere
refuses to pass, ib.; proofs of his
complicity in the poisoning of
Campion,  Edmund, a  Jesuit   Overbury laid before the King,
priest, his treasonable letter to   239; the King's reluctance to
the Privy Council, 40; his in-   commit him to the Tower, 239,
prisonment in the Tower, and'240; his behavior there, 241;
execution, ib.                  his trial and recommittal, 243,
Carew's residence in the Brick    244; is liberated, 244; passes
tower, tenanted by Lord Grey,   the remainder of his life in ob66, 67; hired by the Earl of   scurity, 245.
Northumberland  for his son, Catesby, Robert, his reasons for
Algernon, 177.                 joining the Jesuits, 34; his inCarr, Lady Ann, the daughter of   tercourse with them at White
the Earl and Countess of Som-   Webbs, 48;  Father Garnet
erset, the mother of Lord Wil-   shows him  the secret papal
liam Russell, 245.              breves, 85; sends agents to
Carr, Robert, Viscount Rochester,   Spain, ib.; the idea of blowing
his arrival in London, 220; in   up the King and Parliament
what manner introduced  to   enters his mind, 88; communiKing James, ib.; the King's   cates it to Jack Wright, 90;
attachment  to  him, ib.; is   and to Tom Winter, ib.; conknighted and created Viscount   siders the Vinegar House suitRochester, 220, 221; contracts   able for his purpose, 93; his ena friendship with Sir Thomas   deavors to gain possession of
Overbury, 221; follows the good   it, 94; induces Percy to engage
advice of Overbury and attains   in the Plot, 95; oath adminispopularity, 221, 222; after the   tered to him and the rest of the
death of Cecil the King desires   conspirators by Father Gerard,
to make him Secretary of State,  ib.; power given to him by his
223; Northampton, to compass   fellow-conspirators, 103; conhis own wicked ends, casts in his  ferences between him and Percy
way Lady Essex, 224, 225; his   at Bath, 104, 105; engages to
familiarities with Lady Essex,   seize the Princess Elizabeth at
225, 228; Overbury remon-   Combe Abbey, 104, 108, 113;
strates with him on his conduct,  induces Stephen and Humphrey
228, 229; his forgetfulness of   Littleton to join the Powder
Overbury when committed to   Plot, 106; Ambrose Rokewood,
the Tower, 231; the extent of  ib.; Sir Everard Digby, 107;
the part taken by him  in the   is troubled respecting the fidelmurder of Overbury uncertain,   ity of Frank Tresham, 107, 114;
231; is created Earl of Somer-   perplexing reports reach him,
set, 235; marries Lady Essex,   112, 113; is informed by Winib.; Sherborne Castle is granted   ter that the Plot is discovered,
to him, 207, 235; the Countess   120; sends Guy Fawkes to inof Shrewsbury appeals to him in   spect the vault, ib.; his confervain on behalf of Lady Arabella   ence with Tresham at Barnet,




250                         INDEX.
121, 122; tests the fidelity of   his assistance, 137; his design,
Tresham, 122, 123; hears that   not only to destroy the English
the King has instituted a search    Jesuits, but to ruin the Earl of
of the vault, 123; starts for Dun-   Northumberland, 138; employs
church, 125; is informed by    spies to overhear the private
Rokewood of the seizure of Guy    conversations of the prisoners
Fawkes, 130; his arrival at   in the Tower, ib.; his jealousy
Ashby, 131; counsels an appeal   of the Earl of Northumberland,
to the Catholic population of   170, 171; his watchfulness over
Wales, 132; interview between   the matrimonial prospects of
him and Father Greenway, 133;   Lady Arabella Stuart, 182; letreaches  Holbeach  House  in   ter from Sir William Monson
Staffordshire, 134; is injured by   informing him of the escape of
an explosion of powder, ib.; is   a prisoner of state from  the
mortally  wounded, 135; his   Tower, 191, 193; obtains for
cruel death, ib.; his body ex-   Lady Shrewsbury some relaxahumed and hung, 136.             tion of the prison rules, 206;
Catesby, Sir William, with his   difficulty of the King in obtainsons, Robert and Francis, con-   ing a Secretary of State to supverts of Father Persons, 39.     ply his place after his death,
Catholics, English and Roman,   222, 223.
37, 38.                        Chambers, George, a servant of
Catholic priests, the Powder Plot   Oldcorne, 44; his concealment
not to be ascribed to them, 136.   with Little John in Hendlip
Cecil, Lady Anne, the Earl of   Hall, and discovery, 146, 147;
Northumberland disapproves of   is committed to the Tower, 150.
his son, Algernon, marrying  Charles, Duke of York, son of
her, 178.                        James I., designs of the PowCecil, Sir Robert, Earl of Salis-   der Plot conspirators respecting
bury, 14, 19; leads the peace   him, 104, 113.
party at the death of Queen  Clara Isabel, theInfantaofSpain,
Elizabeth, 20; his secret cor-   her rash vow, 31.
respondence with the Scottish  Clarke, William, a Catholic priest,
Court, ib.; his subserviency to   his opposition to the Jesuits, 50;
Spain, 21, 22, 68, 117; his ha-   writes a  reply  to  Persons's
tred of Raleigh and Lord Cob-   " Manifestation," ib.; joins Faham, 66; shows favor to Lord   ther Watson in  the Priests'
Grey, 66, 67; receives bribes   Plot, 51; is arrested and confrom  Spain, 68; is one of the   fined in the Tower, 13, 58; is
commissioners appointed to ex-   condemned, hung, and  quaramine Guy  Fawkes in  the   tered, 61, 62.
Tower, 75-81; confessions made Clement, Pope, death of, 108.
to him by Guy Fawkes after he Clink prison, 16, 40, 58, 71.
had been racked by Waad, 83; Clopton, the seat of Lord Carew,
reports by his spies of the move-   112.
ments and plans of the Jesuits, Cobham, Lord, 58, 59, 60, 61, 76;
115, 116; adopts measures of   reprieved at Winchester, 65; is
precaution against them, 117;   sent back to the Tower, 66.
Monteagle informs him of the Coke, Sir Edward, indictment
mysterious letter, 118; baffles   drawn up by him against those
the plans of the conspirators,   concerned in the Priests' Plot,
119, 136; Ben Jonson offers him    58; endeavors to include Lord




INDEX.                            251
Grey in the so-called Arabella    meeting of the Powder Plot
Plot, 59; is instructed by Cecil   conspirators at, 112, 125.
to  withdraw  the  indictment Cranborne, Lord, his marriage
against Count Aremberg, 60;   with Lady Catharine Howard,
and to  suppress the charges    213.
against Lady  Arabella, ib.; Creswell, Joseph, a Jesuit priest
judges  and   condemns  the    at the Spanish court, 40.
Priests' Plot conspirators, 61, Croft, Sir James, court physician,
62; examines Guy Fawkes in   his reports on the  illness of
the Powder-Plot Room, 81, 82;   Arabella Stuart, 196; is comexamines the other conspirators  rmitted to the  Fleet, on susin the Tower, 138; Garnet, 46,   picion of helping in the escape
152; Ann Vaux, 159, 160; Lady    of Arabella Stuart from  BarArabella Stuart appeals to him,   net, 204; is discharged, ib.
194, 195; receives instructions Crompton, Hugh, is present at
from the King to prosecute the    the marriage of Lady Arabella
murderers of Sir Thomas Over-   Stuart and Seymour, 187; is
bury, 237, 238; sends proof to   committed to the Marshalsea.
the King showing that Somer-   ib.; Lady Arabella Stuart proset was privy to  Overbury's   cures his liberation, 194; is perdeath, 239.                       mitted to share the banishment
Combe Abbey, proposal to seize    of his mistress when she is orPrincess Elizabeth at, 104, 105,   dered to the north, ib.; accom108, 113.                         panies her in her escape from
Compton, Lord, receives instruc-   East Barnet,198-201, 288; when
tions from Cecil to hold reviews    captured by the "Adventure" is
of men and arms in Warwick-   sent to the Fleet, 204; is brought
shire, 117.                       to the Tower and examined,
Conferences between Garnet and    205; again contrives a plan of
Oldcorne, in the Tower, 154-   escape for her, but fails, 210,
156.                              211; his imprisonment, 211.
Conyers, Thomas, his cottage at
East Barnet hired for Lady
Arabella Stuart, 197.           "Damned Crew," the, 25.
Copley, Anthony, his early life  Darnley, Lord, his death on the
passed among the Jesuits, 52;   Kirk of Field, 88.
leaving them, he joins Father Dee, John, the astronomer, a visWatson in the Priests' Plot, 53;   itor of the Earl of Northumberis denounced by the Jesuits to   land in the Tower, 177.
Bishop Bancroft, 57; his arrest Deventer, in Flanders, treacherand confession, 58; his condem-   ously given up by Sir William
nation, 61; is pardoned and set   Stanley, 41.
at liberty, 66.                 Devereux,  Lady  Frances, the
Corv6, Captain of the bark in   second wife of William  Seywhich Arabella Stuart attempts    mour, 212.
her escape to France, 190, 201, Devereux, Robert, Earl of Essex,
202; his vessel overtaken, 202;   when a boy is married to Lady
is sent to Newgate, 204.          Frances  Howard, 213;  goes
Cotton, the antiquary, searches   abroad with his tutor, ib.; on
for a large pardon for Carlr,   his return finds his wife's afic238.                              tions alienated froni hil, 214,
Cougliton, Throcekimorton's house,   215, 225; their contrary  dispo



252                         INDEX.
sitions, 226; various schemes   of Somerset, 239; asks for a
adopted by his wife to get rid    verdict at the trial of Somerset,
of him, 227; after their divorce,   244.
his wife marries the Earl of Enfield Chase, the head-quarters
Somerset, 235.                    of the English Jesuits, 25, 42.
Devereux tower, 29.               English Catholics, their opposiDigby, Sir Everard, is induced by    tion to the Roman Catholics,
Catesby tojoin the Powder Plot,   33, 36; their nationality and
107; attends the  rendezvous    patriotism, 33-37.
at Dunchurch, 130;  informs English Jesuits, their secret misGarnet that the conspiracy has   sion to the Duke of Lerma, 85;
failed, 132; leaves the conspira-   their treasonable designs at the
tors at Holbeach, 134; is taken    accession of King James, 37, 40,
prisoner, 136; his examination    86, 87.
and confessions in the Tower, Equivocation, two treatises on,
139; is hung near Paul's Cross,   found in Tresham's house, 140;
144.                              Garnet's opinion of, 150.
Digby, Sir  Robert, joins  the  Essex, the Earl of, warned by
Catholic squires at Dunchurch,   Lord Grey of the dangers of
131.                              his course, 29, 30.
Donne, his appreciation of the  Essex, Earl of, see Robert Devekindness of Carr, 222.            reux.
Douglas, Margaret, sister of James Excommunication, Garnet's docIV., 181, 204, 208, 211, 304.     trine of the Pope's power of,
Dunchurch,  proposed  hunting    151.
party at, 105, 108; the rendez- Explosion of powder at Holbeach,
vous of the  Catholic squires    134.
after the failure of the Powder
Plot, 130-132.
Dutch Republic acknowledged by  Fawkes, Guido, his seizure in
Spain, 68.                        Parliament Place, and his examination before King James,
76; letter signed by Elizabeth
Elizabeth, Princess, daughter of   Vaux found on his person, 77;
James I., proposed seizure of,  is examined in the Powder-Plot
at Combe Abbey, by the Pow-   Room by the lord commissionder Plot conspirators, 104, 108,   ers, 81, 82; is put to the rack
113.                              by Sir William  Waad, sends
Elizabeth, Queen, divisions in   for Cecil, and makes confessions
her Council at the time of her   to him, 82, 83; is mentioned by
death, 20; religious sections    Tom Winter to Catesby as one
durinog her reign, 33; papal   able to carry out his project of
breves respecting  the  succes-   blowing up the Kino and Parliasion to, received  by Garnet,   ment, 90; his services engaged
85;  remark  by, concerning    bv Tom Winter, 92, 93; assumes
Lady Arabella Stuart, 182.        thle name of John Johnson. 93;
Ellesmere, lord chancellor, refuses   oath of secrecy administered to
to pass Somerset's general par-   him by Father Gerard, 95; is
donl, 238; is one of the commis-   taken  by  Percy  to  Vinegar
sioners  appointed  to  inquire    tieuse, 96; finds that it is not
into Overblurv's death, ib.; sends   suitable for his design, and
proofs to the king< of the guilt   transfers the powder, etc. to




INDEX.                           253
the adjoining vaults, 100, 101, Franklin, James, an apothecary,
136; his conferences in Flan-   is employed by Lady Essex to
ders with  Father Owen and    poison Overbury, 223; is arStanley, 101; on his return he   rested, 237; confesses his crime,
takes up his abode in Vinegar   238; is hung, 240.
House, 109; his conferences
with his fellow-conspirators,
110; on the news of the discov- Garden house, 13, 67, 240, 244.
ery of the plot, Catesby sends Garnet, Henry, Prefect of the
him  to inspect the vault, 120;   English Jesuits, 13, 15; his nureports that it has not been    merous names and houses, 15,
opened, ib.; is present in the    43-45; his loose character, and
vault when it is inspected by    great abilities, 16, 17; was the
Lords Suffolk and Monteagle,   chief instigator of the Anglo125; rides to Isleworth, ap-   Spanish Plot, 15-17; his oppoprises Percy of the inspection,   sition to the Secular Priests, 25;
and returns to the vault, 126;   his life at White Webbs, 43-48;
is apprehended by Sir Thomas   obtains  intelligence  of  the
Knyvet, 127; confessions ex-   Priests' Plot, 53; sends infortorted from him in the Tower,   mation thereof to Bishop Ban138, 139; is drawn, hung, and    croft, 57; papal breves forboweled on Tower Hill, 144.      warded to him by Father PerFerrers, Henry, Vinegar House   sons from Rome, 85; sends in
in his possession, 94.           consequence a secret mission to
Fines, how compounded for by po-   the court of Spain, ib.; on the
litical prisoners, 167, 168, 239.    accession of King James deFisher, Father, a Jesuit priest, re-   stroys the papal breves, 86, 87;
ceives his instructions from Fa-   at the time of the Powder Plot
ther Garnet, 41; is a frequent   takes his position in the midvisitor at White Webbs, 47; is  land shires, 110; conducts a pilcommitted to the Keep, 13, 153.   grimage to St.Winifred's Well,
Fleet, 150, 153, 204, 216, 233.    111; receives intelligence of the
Fleming, Sir Thomas, Lord Chief   failure of the plot at Coughton
Justice, Lady Arabella Stuart   Hall, 133; care taken by the
appeals to him for justice, 194,   prisoners in the Tower not to
195.                             implicate him in the Plot, 138,
Floyd, Griffith, a Jesuit agent, is   139; statements and retractions
sent to inquire into the life led   respecting him by Frank Tresby Father Garnet at White   ham, 140, 141; is proclaimed by
Webbs, 46.                       Cecil, 142; escapes from CoughFludd, Henry, a Jesuit priest in   toll to Hendlip Hall,144,145; his
Lisbon, 41.                      concealment in a crevice of the
Ford, his history of the life and    wall during the search by Sir
death of Overbury, 241.          Henry Bromley, 146-148; his
Forman, Simon, the sorcerer, his   discovery through information
dealings with Lady Essex, 225.   supplied by Humphrey LittleForsett, one of Northampton's  ton,148, 149; his kind treatment
spies, overhears and reports the   by Bromley, 149, 150; is lodged
conversations of the prisoners   in the Gate house near Whitein the Tower, 138, 154-156.      hall, 150; his examinations by
Fortescue, Sir John, supports the    Cecil, Northampton, and Coke,
war policy of Lord Grey, 20.     150-152; is committed to the
SER. II.                  22




254                        INDEX.
Tower, 151; his communica-   104; his approval thereof, ib.;
tions with Ann Vaux, 151,152;   leaves London for Goathurst
his conferences  with  Father   and Coughton, 125; his interOldeorne overheard by spies,   view with Catesby at Hudding154-156; is again  examined   ton, 133; is proclaimed by Cecil,
by the commissioners in the    142; his seizure in London and
Powder-Plot Room, 160; his   escape, 143, 144; reaches Flandenial of the interlocutions, ib.;   ders, 144.
is threatened with the rack, ib.; Greenwich, Lady Arabella Stuart
his confessions, ib.; is tried by    and William  Seymour secretly
a special commission in West-   married at, 187; interview beminsterHall,161; is condemned,   tween  King  James and Sir
and hung in front of St. Paul's    George More at, 243.
Cathedral, 20, 161; his declara- Grey, Lord Arthur, Lord Deputy
tion respecting Ann Vaux, 161;   of Ireland, the friend of Spenhis last words, ib.              ser, 27; takes Fort Del Oro, ib.
Gate house at Westminster, 150, Grey, Lord Thomas, of Wilton,
187, 204.                        position taken by him at the
Gerard, Father, a Jesuit priest,   death of Queen Elizabeth, 20;
his instructions from  Father   is opposed by Cecil, 20-23; maGarnet, 42; at' White Webbs,   chinations against him, 26; his
47; administers the oath of se-   birth and character,26-28; joins
crecy to the Powder-Plot con-   the army in the Low Countries,
spirators in a house in Butcher   28; warns the Earl of Essex of
Row, 95; avoids the snare laid   the dangers of his mad career,
for him  by Lady Markham,   29, 30; his encounter with Lord
143; escapes fromr England, 144.   Southampton, 29; his olposiGibbins, Gideon, porter of Vine-   tion to the court of Spain, 30;
gar House, 96; is taken into the   forces his way to the closed port
service of Percy, 97; his arrest,   of Ostend, 31; his religious
127.                             views, 31, 32; his splendid prosGibbs, John, a Scotch lad, is em-   pects, 32; Cecil endeavors to
ployed by James I. to nonvey    entangle him  in a conspiracy,
the reprieve to the condemned   ib.; refuses to listen to the
prisoners at Winchester, 64.     overtures of  Markham   and
Goathurst, Bucks, the seat of Sir   Brooke, 55, 56; leaves England
Everard Digby, is used as a   for Sluys, 57; his arrest at
hiding-place for priests, 107,   Sluys, and imprisonment in the
111, 125.                        Tower, 58; charges against him,
Grant, John, of Norbrook, is  ib.; his trial, condemnation,
drawn into the Powder Plot by    and defense, 61, 62; his behaCatesby, 103, 104; is taken    vior when  about to be exeprisoner at Holbeach, 135; is   cuted, 65;  is reprieved  by
hung at Paul's Cross, 144.       James, ib.; is recommitted to
Greenway, Father, a Jesuit priest,  the Tower, 66; is placed in the
receives his instructions from    Brick tower, ib.; his prisonFather Garnet, 42; a frequent   life, 67-69; his letters to his
visitor at White Webbs, 47;   mother, 67-68; his interview
is sent on a secret mission by    with Lord Northampton, 69;
Father Garnet to the court of   is transferred  to the Water
Spain, 85; confession of the   gate, ib.; is fitsely accused of
Plot made to him by Tom Bates,   intriguing with Lady Arabella




INDEX.                          255
Stuart, ib.; is more closely con-   remark  to  Sully concerning
fined, ib.; his death, ib.; his   Lady Arabella Stuart, 182.
descendants, 70.               Henry, son of James I., designs
Gunpowder Plot.  See Powder   of the Powder-Plot conspirators
Plot.                            with regard to him, 112, 113;
grand masque given in his honor
when created Prince of Wales,
Hagley House, 112.                 186; Northampton desires to
Halliday, Sir Leonard, lord may-   marry him to Lady Essex, 217;
or, one of the commission ap-   statement by Ann Turner, that
pointed to. try Father Garnet,   he was poisoned with a bunch
160.                             of grapes, 237.
Hamilton, Lord Advocate of Scot- Herbert, one of the favorites of
land, his conferences with Lord    King James, 219; is created
Bacon respecting the legislative    Earl of Montgomery, 220.
union of England and Scotland  Heriot, assistance given him  in
held at Vinegar House, 98.       his astronomical studies by the
Hart, Father, a Jesuit priest, con-   Earl of Northumberland, 170;
fesses and grants absolution to   sun-dial fixed by him on Martin
Catesby and the other conspira-   tower, 174; the companion of
tors, 133.                       the Earl of Northumberland in
Harvey, Sir George, Lieutenant   his confinement in the Tower,
of the Tower, his harsh treat-   177; his correspondence with
ment of Lord Grey, 66.           Kepler,179; is a constant visitor
Hay, James, one of the favorites   at Petworth, 180.
of King James, 219; is created  Hertford, Lord, allows his son,
Earl of Carlisle, 219, 220; his   William Seymour, fifty pounds
marriage  with  Lady  Lucy,   a quarter for his maintenance
daughter of the Earl of North-   in the Tower, 188.
umberland, disapproved by her Highgate, Arabella Stuart's resifather, 178, 179; is sent for by    dence there, 196.
Somerset when confined in the Holbeach, in  Staffordshire, the
Tower, 241; conducts the nego-   house of Stephen Littleton, 134;
tiations between the King and    explosion of powder at, ib.; the
Somerset, 243.                   Powder-Plot conspirators deterHelwyss, Sir Gervase, a creature    mine to make a stand there,
of Lord Northampton, appoint-   135; is assaulted by Sir Richard
ed Lieutenant of the Tower in    Walsh, ib.; conspirators killed
place of Waad, 231; his com-   and captured there, 135, 136.
plicity in the poisoning of Sir Holt Castle, 111.
Thomas Overbury, 233, 234; Howard, Charles, Earl of Nothis arrest and examination, 237;   tingham, his policy at the death
is hung in chains on Tower Hill,   of Elizabeth opposed to that of
239.                             Cecil, 20, 53; one of the exHendlip Hall, 125, 133; built by    aminers of Guy Fawkes in the
Mr. Abington and Little John    Powder-Plot Room, 75-82; is
as a hiding-place for priests,   with  Cecil when  Monteagle
145; instructions for the search    brings his mysterious letter,
of the priests there, 146; Sir   118; one of the special commis
Henry Bromley discovers Gar-   sion appointed to try Father
net and Oldcorne, 148, 149.      Garnet, 160.
Henri the Great, King of France, Howard, Henry, son of Lord Sur



256                        INDEX.
rey, is made Earl of Northamp-   that scheme, he directs her to
ton at the accession of Ki'ig    the favorite Carr, 218, 224, 225;
James, 17; his life in Italy, 18;   his jealousy of Overbury, 223;
his ignoble character, 18, 19;   resolves on the death of Overaccepts the policy of Cecil, and    bury, and procures his arrest,
panders to his passions, 19-21;   229, 230; refuses to Overbury's
prominent part taken by him    friends permission to speak to
in the Powder Poisonings, 17,   him, 232-234; his deceitful in20; receives bribes from  the   terview  with Overbury, 234;
Spanish court, 60; his interview    his  instructions  to Helwyss
with Lord Grey in the Tower,   about Overbury's body, 235; is
69; one of the commissioners   troubled with a loathsome disappointed by the King to ex-   ease, 19, 236; his death, 212,
amine Guy Fawkes, 75-82; is   236; his unpopularity at the
with  Cecil when  MIonteagle   time of his death, 236; his death
brings his letter, 118; gives in-   saves him from arrest for murstructions to Sir Thomas Kny-   der, 20, 212, 236.
vet to prepare for a secret ser- Howard, Philip, Earl of Arundel,
vice, 119; orders the bodies 6f   18, 19, 34, 36.
Catesby, Percy, Jack, and Kit Howard, Lady Catharine, is marWright to be exhumed  and    ried to William, Lord Cranhung, 136; examines the cap-   borne, 213.
tured prisoners in the Powder- Howard, Thomas, Earl of Suffolk,
Plot Room, ib.; his hatred of   19; one of the examiners of Guy
the Earl of Northumberland,   Fawkes, 75-82; is with Cecil
138; employs spies to over-   when Monteagle brings his lethear the conversations of the   ter, 118; inspects the vaults
prisoners Garnet and Oldcorne,   under Parliament House with
ib.; one of the special commis-   Lord AIonteagle, 125; his consioners appointed to try Garnet,   versation with Guy Fawkes, ib.;
160; his speech  against the   is one of the judges of Father
Jesuits at the trial of Garnet,   Garnet, 161; Constable of the
161; his jealous watchfulness   Tower, 167; requires his daughof Lady Arabella Stuart, 182;   ter to live in her husband's
places her in the custody of Lord   house, 225; is made lord high
Knyvet, 185; resists the ap-   treasurer, 241.
peals of the Countess of Shrews- Howard, Lady Elizabeth, is marbury in behalf of Lady Arabella   ried to William, Lord Knollys
Stuart, 197; his examination of   of Greys, 213; her notoriety
the prisoners connected with   as the Countess of Banbury,
the escape of Lady Arabella I 215.
Stuart and Seymour, 204-207; Howard, Lady Frances, daughter
Lady Arabella's plaintive letter   of Lady Suffolk, 212; is marto him, 210; his large posses-   ried in early life to Robert, Earl
sions  and  emoluments, 215;   of Essex, 213; her impure trainNorthampton House at Charing   ing, 214; her great personal atCross built by him, 215, 216;   tractions, ib.; is surrounded by
his ambition to be lord high    pernicious counselors, 214, 215;
treasurer, 216; his various in-   her uncle Northampton dreams
trigues, ib.; desires to marry his   of an alliance between her and
niece, Lady Essex, to Prince    Prince Henry, 217; that failHenry, 217; on the failure of   ing, he instigates her to look to




INDEX.                          257
the favorite Carr, 218; her in- James I., King of England, his
tercourse with Ann Turner the   peace policy, 21; political and
White Witch, and with Simon   religious factions at his accesForman, 224, 225; her aversion   sion, 20-23, 34; yields himself
to her husband, 225; her illicit  to the guidance of Cecil, 22;.
intercourse with Carr at Pater-   his treatment of the Catholics
noster  Row  and  Brentford   on his accession to the throne,
Farm, 226, 232, 238; attempts   51; goes to Wilton Court to
to get rid of her husband, 226,   watch the trial of the conspira227; her dealings with Mary   tors concerned in the Priests'
Wood, 227; endeavors to pro-   Plot, 61; his singular mode of
cure a divorce, ib.; Overbury's  reprieving the prisoners conopposition to her designs on   demned at Winchester, 63-65;
Carr, 228, 229; resolves on the   inscription by him on the pandeath of Overbury, 229; en-   els of the Powder-Plot Room,
deavors tobribe Sir David Wood    72, 73; his instructions to the
to murder him, 229, 230; Over-  lords commissioners in the exbury having been committed to   amination of Guy Fawkes, 79the Tower, determines to poison    81; his scheme for the legislative
him, 231; changes the officers   union of the two kingdoms, 98;
in the Tower, 231, 232; sends   wishes his Council to adopt the
to Overbury a present- of poi-   5th of August as his sacred day,
soned jellies, 283; is divorced,   116; on his return from huntand is married to Carr in the   ing in Royston the letter to
royal chapel at Whitehall, 235;   Monteagle is shown to him, and
is implicated in the murder of   its effect, 123; is present at the
Overbury by the confessions of   trial of Garnet, 161; honors
Waad and others, 236, 237; is   conferred by him  on the Earl
taken prisoner and committed   of Northumberland on his acto the Tower, 240; her trial at   cession to the throne, 170, 171;
Westminster Hall, 242; pleads   his reply to the appeals of the
guilty, and begs for mercy, 242,   Countess of Northumberland
243; the misery of her latter   for the release of her husband
years, 244, 245; her only child,   from  the Tower, 177, 178;
Lady Ann Carr, becomes the   grants Northumberland's remother of Lord William Rus-  lease to Lady Lucy Percy, on
sell, 245.                      her marriage to his favorite
Howards, their power in the state,   Hay, 179; his coarse language
241.                            respecting Lady Arabella StuHuddington,  Robert Winter's   art, 183; his displeasure at her
house, 103, 106, 111; interview    marriage with William  Seybetween Catesby and Greenway   mour, 187; after the visit of
at, 133.                        Lady Arabella  to  Seymour
Hues, Robert, frequent visits paid   when confined in the Tower,
by him to the Earl of North-   orders her to be placed in the
umberland in the Tower, 177.    custody of the Bishop of DurHume, one of the favorites of   ham, 191; permits Lady AraKing James, 219; is created an   bella Stuart to rest for a month
Earl, ib.                       at Barnet, prior to her journey
Hurlstone, Henry, a  Catholic  to the north, 196; her letters
squire, invited to join the hunt-  to him, 197, 208, 209; orders,
ing party at Dunchurch, 108.    after her attempted escape from




258                        INDEX.
Barnet, that she should be com-   supplied by him  to William
mitted to the Tower, 204; Sir   Seymour in the Tower, 189, 212.
William Seymour's letters to
him, 208; is present at the marriage of Robert, Earl of Essex, Kay, Robert, one of the Powderand  Lady  Frances Howard,   Plot conspirators, prepares the
213; impure character of his   powder and keeps the store, 97;
court, 217, 218; his attachment   leaves London on the discovery
to handsome favorites, 219; his   of the Plot, 130; is taken prispartiality to Carr, 220; honors   oner, 136; is hung, drawn, and
conferred by him on Carr, 220-   boweled on Tower Hill, 144.
223; his mind poisoned against Keep, the, Guy Fawkes and his
Overbury, whom he arrests and    companions  confined  in  the
commits to the Tower, 230; is   dungeons of, 13, 153.
present at the marriage of Carr Killigrew, Sir Robert, the phyand Lady Essex, 235; appoints   sician, is cast into the Fleet for
a commission to inquire into   attempting to speak with OverOverbury's death, 238; reluc-   bury, 233.
tantly permits Carr to be ar- Knollys, Lord of Greys, married
rested, 239; his exertions to   to Lady Elizabeth Howard, 213;
save his favorite, 243..         his opposition to the favorite
James, William, Bishop of Dur-   Carr, 222.
ham, Lady  Arabella  Stuart Knyvet, Sir Thomas, receives incommitted to his custody with   structions from  Northampton
orders to take her to the north,   to prepare for a secret service
191; she refuses to go with him,   for the crown, 119; seizes Guy
195, 196.                        Fawkes in the vault under ParJesuits, the instigators of the   liament House, 127;  arrests
Anglo-Spanish plot, 14; arrival   Gibbins, the porter, and Father
of, on the accession of James I.,   Robarts, at Vinegar House, ib.;
23; are watched by Cecil, 24,   gives intelligence to the King,
25; their contentions with the   ib.; is raised to the peerage, ib.;
Secular priests, 25, 34, 35; are   is intrusted with the custody of
the tools of Philip of Spain,   Lady Arabella Stuart, 185.
14, 35; their teachings and
machinations, 36-38; at White
Webbs, 42-48; movements of, Lake, Sir Thomas, the King's
at the time of the Powder Plot,   Private Secretary, applies for a
110, 111.                        grant of Pipewell Manor, an
Johnson, James, a servant at   estate belonging to Tresham,
White Webbs, 43, 44.             140; one of those named as
Jones, Inigo, 213.                 probably to be chosen Secretary
Jones, John, a Jesuit, 41.         of State, 223.
Jonson, Ben, though a Catholic, Lapworth, Catesby's house, 112.
offers his services to the Coun- Lennox, one of the commission
cil in pursuing the Powder-Plot   of  inquiry  into  Overbury's
conspirators, 137; his " Masque   death, 238; urges the arrest of
of Hymen," 213; his apprecia-   Somerset, 239.
tion of the kindness of Carr, Lerma, Duke of, his reception of
222; his " Golden Age," 241.    the secret mission from the EngJenning the upholsterer, goods   lish Jesuits, 86.




INDEX                            259
Leslie tower, Garnet confined in,   the King, 64, 65; is permitted
151.                             to live abroad, 66.
Lieutenant's house in the Tower, Markham, Lady, assistance of14, 69, 70.                      fered by her to Cecil in discovLittle John. See Nicholas Owen.   ering the hiding-places of the
Littleton, Humphrey, Cateshby    Jesuit fathers, 142, 143; lays a
makes overtures to him to join   snare for Father Gerard, 143.
the conspirators, 106; goes to Markham, William, accompanies
Dunchurch, 131; leaves Dun-   Arabella Stuart in her escape
church, and sends a message to   from East Barnet, 199, 201; is
Father Oldcorne, 131, 148; is  taken and sent to the Marshaltaken prisoner and lodged in   sea, 204; his examination in the
Worcester jail, 148; is con-   Tower, 205.
demned to be hung, ib.; ob- Marshalsea, 187, 204.
tains a respite by supplying in- Marston, Robert, the poet, writes
formation which leads to the    a life of Lord Grey in verse,
discovery of Garnet and Old-   28.
corne, ib.                     Martin tower, 14, 174.
Littleton, Stephen, Catesby offers Mary, Queen of Scots, buried in
to him the captaincy of a Catho-   Westminster Abbey, 211.
lic regiment, 106; undertakes Mayerne, a French adventurer,
to raise money and men, ib.;  the share taken by him in poigoes with his brother to Dun-   soning Overbury, 234.
church, 131; the conspirators Medina, Don  Juan  de Taxis,
advance to his house at Hol-   Conde de Villa, Spanish ambasbeach in Staffordshire, 134; is   sador, his lavish expenditure to
taken prisoner, 136.             corrupt the court of James, 59;
Lobel, a French apothecary, pre-   acceptance by Cecil and Northpares a glister for poisoning    ampton of his bribes, 60.
Overbury, 234.                 Mese, Mr., one of the names by
Locherson, one of Cecil's spies,   which  Father  Garnet  was
overhears and reports the inter-   known, 43. See Garnet.
locutions of Garnet and Old- Monson, Sir Thomas, receives incorne, 154-156.                  structions to accept Weston as
Lydcot, a friend of Sir Thomas   keeper of the Bloody tower,
Overbury, endeavors to see him    232; after the murder of Overin the Tower, 233, 234.          bury, is arrested, 237.
Monson, Sir William, suspects the
escape of a prisoner of state from
Magi, Earl of Northumberland's   the Tower, 191, 192; measures
three, Heriot, Hues, Warner,   adopted by him to prevent it,
177.                             193; the war-ship ordered by
Main Plot, 60.                     him to pursue overtakes Lady
Markham, Sir Griffin, is induced    Arabella Stuart, 202.
by Father Watson to join in the Montagu Close, the seat of Lord
Priesfs' Plot, 52; vainly endea-   Montagu, 164.
vors to win over Lord Grey, Montangu, Lord. See Browne.
26, 54, 55; his arrest and im- Monteagle,  Lord, his connection
prisonment in the Tower, 58;   with Winter, one of the Guncharges against him, ib.; is con-   powder-Plot conspirators, 84,
demned to die, 61; his execu-   85; the papal breves shown to
tionI stayed by the mancldate of   himn by Catesby, 85; his house




260                       INDEX.
at Hoxton, ib.; instructions   Council on the inability of Aragiven by him to Winter on his   bella Stuart to travel, 197.
mission to Velasco, 91, 92; receives a mysterious letter warning him not to go to the Par- Newgate, Captain Corve confined
liament House, 118; shows the   in, 204.
letter to Cecil, ib.; his solicitude Nicholas, Edmund, the armorer,
that Catesby should be informed   sent from London, with a supof the discovery of the plot,   ply of pikes and guns, to War119, 120; with Lord Suffolk in-   wickshire, 117.
spects the vaults under Parlia- Norbrook, the house of Grant,
ment House, 125; words heard   103, 111, 112.
by Kit Wright under his win- Northumberland, Earl of. See
dow, 128; his name frequently   Percy, Henry.
mentioned by the prisoners in Northumberland, Countess of, put
the Tower, showing his com-   away by her husband, 169; replicity with the plot, 140; the   joins him when imprisoned in
Council desire to ignore his  the Tower, 175; her dark assotreasonable antecedents, ib.    ciations with the Tower, ib.;
Mordaunt, Henry, Baron Mor-   appeals to King James for the
daunt, his character, 165; his   release of her husband, 176.
friendship  with Catesby, ib.; Northumberland's family, 172.
his examination before the Star Northumberland's Walk, 174.
Chamber, 166; is committed to Northampton, Earl of. See Howthe Tower, ib.; his sentence and   ard, Henry.
liberation, ib.               Nottingham, Earl of. See Howard,
More, Sir George, Lieutenant of   Charles.
the Tower, receives as prisoners
Lord and Lady Somerset, 240;
his instructions at the trial of Oldcorne, Father, a Jesuit priest,
Somerset, 243, 244.             is known as Mr. Perkins at
Morgan, Thomas, an agent of the   White Webbs, 45, 47; leaves
Jesuits, offers to cut off Queen   London for Hendlip Hall, 125;
Elizabeth, 89; various plots in   induces Garnet to join him
which he had been engaged, 89,  there, 145; his concealment
90; is taken prisoner at Hol-   with Garnet in a crevice of the
beach, 135.                     wall, and his discovery, 146,
MIoundford, Lady Arabella Stu-   148, 149; his committal to the
art's physician, reports her in-   Bloody tower, 13, 151; his seability to proceed from High-   cret conferences with Garnet
gate to the north, 196; is com-   overheard by spies, 154, 156; is
mitted to the Gate house for   examined by the commissionsupposed complicity in the at-  ers, 160; his confession, ib.; is
tempted escape of Arabella Stu-   condemned and hung, 161.
art, 204; is liberated, ib.   Ostend, besieged by the Spanish
Mountjoy, Lord, 76.               and Austrian armies, 30; its
Munck, Levinus, secretary to Ce-   gallant defense by the Dutch
eil, 118; gives instructions to   and English troops, 30, 31; its
Father Southwick to act as spy   capture, 68; escape of William
on the movements of the Jes-   Seymour to, 203.
uits, 119.                    Overbury, Thomas, poet and poliMyvnors, Sergeant, reports to the   tician, 220; his friendship with




INDEX.                           261
Carr, ib.; is knighted, 221; pos- Palmer, failure of his attempt with
sesses great influence in  the    Crompton to effect the escape
state, ib.; is an enemy of Spain,   of Arabella Stuart, 210.
223; the austerity of his morals, Papal breves respecting the sucib.; his want of popularity, 228;   cession to Elizabeth, received
remonstrates with Carr respect-   by Garnet, 34; are shown to
ing his infatuated passion for   Catesby, Monteagle, and TreLady Essex, 228, 229; writes   sham, ib.; on the proclamation
his poem called The Wife, 229;   of King James, Garnet destroys
Northampton and Lady Essex   them, 86, 87.
resolve on his death, ib.; Lady  Parham, Sir Edward, is induced
Essex endeavors to prevail on    by Father Watson to join the
Sir David Wood to assassinate    Priests' Plot. 55, 56; his arrest,
him, 229, 230; Northampton    58; his life is spared, 61.
poisons the King's mind against Parker, William, reasons for his
him, 230; is committed to the    becoming a Roman Catholic, 34.
Tower, 230, 231; his father and Parry, Sir Thomas, Lady Arabella
friends refused  admission  to    Stuart intrusted to his custody
him, 232, 233; a present of poi-   after her marriage with WXilsoned jellies sent to him by Lady    liam Seymour, 187.
Essex, 233; Rochester vainly  Paul V. dispatches Father Roendeavors to send him  a phy-  hbarts to England, 109.
sician, 234; receives a visitfrom  Peel composes for the Earl of
Northampton, ib.; a poisonous   Northumberland a poem, 170.
glister applied to him, ib.; his Pembroke, Lord, his opposition
death, ib.; his memory vindi-   to the Howard family, 241; his
cated, 236; his murderers pun-   patronage of Shakspeare, 62,
ished, 237-240.                  241; his activity in bringing
Owen, Hugh, a Jesuit priest, takes   Overbury's murderers to acup his quarters at Brussels, 41,   count, 241, 242.
87; part taken by him  in the Percy, Harry, ninth Earlof NorthPowder Plot, 92; assistance' umberland, his military and
given by him to Winter in en-   naval engagements, 169; his
gaging the services of Fawkes,   violent temper,169,170; is sepa93; promises to persuade Sir   rated from  his Countess, 169;
William  Stanley to assist the   his patronage of men of literaconspirators, 102; Sir William    ture and science, 169, 170; at
Stanley induced to join  the   the accession of James finds
Powder Plot, 109.                himself in  antagonism  with
Owen, Nicholas, a lay Jesuit, ser-   Cecil, 170, 171; his defense of
vant of Garnet, called "' Little    Raleigh, 171; offices in the court
John," at White Webbs, 45;   conferred upon him, ib.; Sion
goes with his master to Hendlip    House settled upon him, ib.; reHall, 145; Hendlip Hall con-   tires disappointed from  court,
structed in accordance with his   and consoles himself with the
plans as a place of concealment   delights of study, and with his
for priests, ib.; his concealment   family, 171, 172; his imprudent
with Chambers, and his discov-   dealings with Thomas Percy,
ery, 146, 147; is committed to   the  conspirator, 172, 173- is
the  Tower, 150; confessions   committed to the Tower, 173;
wrung from  him  by torture,   his accusations before the, Star
157; commits suicide, 157, 158.   Chamber, ib.; his condemnaSER. II.                  23




262                       INDEX.
tion, ib.; occupies the Martin   by, 104; engages to seize Prince
tower for sixteen years, 174;   Charles, ib.; is summoned by
from his studies and occupations   Catesby to London, 113; his
receives the name of the "Wiz-   arrival at White Webbs, 123,
ard Earl,"ib.; his conduct while   124; advises perseverance in
a prisoner, 175; his Countess   the Plot, 124, 125; dines with
rejoins him, ib.; his property   the Earl of:Northumberland on
seized by the crown, 176; his   November 4th, 125, 163; is inprotestations against this act,  formed by Guy Fawkes of the
ib.; has hopes of a reprieve,   inspection of the vault by Lords
177; hires the Brick tower for   Monteagle and Suffolk, 126; on
his son Algernon, ib.; his inter-   hearing from Kit Wright of the
course with Raleigh, Dee, and   discovery of the Plot, he flees
Heriot, 177,178; his displeasure   to Holbeach, 129-134; is morat the marriage of his son   tally wounded, 135; his body
Algernon  with  Lady Anne   exhumed and hung, 136.
Cecil, and that of his daughter Perkins, Mrs. See Vaux, Ann.
Lucy with the favorite Hay, Persons, Robert, a Jesuit priest,
178, 179; his reluctance to ac-   14; his unpatriotic declaration,
cept the pard9n obtained for   36; is the first English Prefect
him by Lady Lucy Hay, 179,   of the Jesuits, 39; his mission
180; departs from  the Tower   to England and his instructions,
under a salute of guns, 180; his   14, 39; his converts, 39; takes
pride still dominant, ib.; takes   up his residence at the court of
up his residence at Petworth,   Rome, 40; his reply in the
ib.                             " Manifestation'  to  Father
Percy, Algernon, tenth Earl of   Watson's " Quodlibetical QuesNorthumberland, his boyhood   tions," 50; papal breves forat Sion, 172; the Brick tower   warded by him from Rome to
hired for his residence by his  the Jesuits in England, 85; his
father, 177; his marriage with   advice to the Pope on the accesLady Anne Cecil not approved   sion of King James, 87; falls
by his father, 178.             into suspicion at the Romnan
Percy, Lucy, daughter of the Earl   court, ib.; procures for Father
of Northumberland, her great   Robarts an audience with Pope
beauty, 172, 178; her marriage   Paul V., 109.
with James Hay, Earl of Car- Peterborough, Earl of, Lord Morlisle, disapproved by her father,   daunt's grandson, 166.
178, 179; obtains from  King Petworth, the residence of the
James the release of her father   Earl of Northumberland, 180.
from the Tower, 179, 180.     Philip III. of Spain is the inPercy, Thomas, his character and   stigator of the Anglo-Spanish
history, 34, 94, 95; Catesby ex-   conspiracy, 14; encouragement
plains his project to him, 95;   given by him to the Jesuits, 35,
eagerly enters into the Plot, ib.;   38; is well served by the Engthe oath of secrecy administered   lish Jesuits,40; Cecil and Northto him by Father Gerard, ib.;   ampton receive bribes from him,
gains  possession of Vinegar   14, 15, 60; his treatment of the
House and the adjoining vaults,   Jesuits' agents, 87.
96, 100; power conferred on Pilgrimage  to  St. Winifred's
him by his fellow-conspirators,   Well, 111.
103; his conferences with Ctites- Popham, Chief Justice, judges




INDEX.                            263
and condemns those concerned  Robarts, Father, a Jesuit priest,
in the Priests' Plot, 61; his ex-   has an audience with Pope Paul
amination of Guy Fawkes in    V., 109; is dispatched to Engthe Tower, 81, 82; is one of the   land, ib.; is stationed at Vinecommissioners appointed to try    gar House, 113, 125; is arrested
Garnet, 161.                      by Sir T. Knyvet, 127; mystery
Poulton, John, instructions given    connected with' his disappearto him  by Lady Somerset to   ance and freedom from punishbring away the papers from the    ment, 153, 154.
Beaver Hat, 239.                Rochester, Vrscount. See Carr.
Powder, its employment on va- Rochfort, Lord, confined in the
rious occasions in conspiracies,   Martin tower, 174.
88, 89.                         Rodney, Edward, assistance renPowder-Plot Room, a part of the    dered by him in the secret marLieutenant's house, 70; its re-   riage of Lady Arabella Stuart
cords and adornments, ib.; in-   and his cousin, William  Seyscriptions on its walls, 70, 72-  mnour, 187; assists Seymour in
75; examination of Guy Fawkes   his escape from the Water gate,
in, 75-84.                        202, 203; is apprehended and
Powder Plot, not to be ascribed    committed to the Tower, 204.
to the Catholics, 71; or to the  Rokewood, Ambrose, is induced
Jesuits, ib.; its agents Protest-   by Catesby to connect himself
ant converts, 72; its objects, ib.;   with the Powder-Plot conspirits origin and history, 84-144;   acy, 106, 107; his movements
its failure, 127; punishment of   in London before the discovery
the conspirators, 135, 144.       of the Plot, 125, 126; his rapid
Powder poisoning, 20, 227-234.      flight to Dunchurch, 130; is inPriests' Plot, its history and fail-   jured by an explosion of gunure, 25, 26, 49-57.               powder, 134; is'wounded and
taken  prisoner in  Holbeach,
135; is drawn, hung, and bowQueen's lodgings in the Tower,             is drawn, ung, and boweled on Tower Hill, 144.
Countess of Shrewsbury con-.
fined in, 14.                   Royston, a favorite hunting-seat
fin   in 1. *  *of King James, 119, 237, 239.' Quodlibetical Questions," 49, 50.
Russell, Lord William, a grandson of Lord and Lady SomerRaleigh, Sir Walter, 13, 14, 21,   set, 245.
22, 23, 53, 58, 60, 62, 66, 68,
171, 178, 207, 240, 241.
Raleigh's Walk, 188.              Salisbury, Earl of. See Cecil.
Reeves, Edward, one of the wit i Sancroft, Archbishop, confined in
nesses to the marriage of Sey-   the Martin tower, 174.
mourand Lady ArabellaStuart, Scots, estimation in which they
187; is sent to the Marshalsea,   were held by the English in the
ib.                               reign of King James, 223, 224.
Reeve, apprentice to Lobel, ap- Secular Priests, or English Cathoplies the poisonous glister to   lics, opposed by the Jesuits, 25,
Overbury, 234; his illness and    33-36.  See English Catholics.
confessions, 237.               Seymour, William, his ancestors,
Reformed religion more popular    181, 18:3; is secretly betrothed
in large towns than in rural   to the King's cousin, Lady Ardistricts, 36.                    abella Stuart, 185; is summioned




264                        INDEX.
before the Council, ib.; his Sion House, settled on the Earl of
answer, 186; takes his cousin    Northumberland, 171.
Rodney into his confidence, and Skinner, Robert, one of the Jesuits
marries  Lady  Arabella  at   at White Webbs, 43.
Greenwich, 186, 187; is com- Sluys, arrest of Lord Grey at, 58.
mitted by the King  to the Somerset, E:rlof. See Carr.
Tower, 14, 188; his life in the Southampton, Lord, his quarrel
Tower, 188, 189; his coldness   with Lord Grey, 29; one of the
to his wife, 190; receives a visit   peers who tried Lord Grey, 61;
from her, 191; his escape from    his opposition to the Howards,
the Water gate planned by the   241; his friendship with ShakCountess of Shrewsbury, 198,   speare and Overbury, ib.
199; assistance given to him by Southwell, Robert, a Jesuit priest,
Rodney, 203; reaches Ostend,   succeeded  Father Weston as
ib.; his letters to the King, 208;   priest in Lady Arundel's househis want of sympathy with his   hold, 40; is imprisoned in the
wife, 211; on her death im-   Tower, 16, 40; is tried  and
plores pardon of the King, and    hung, 40.
obtains permission to return, Southwick, Father, one of Cecil's
211; attaches himself to King    spies in France of the moveCharles during the Civil War,   ments of the Jesuits, 115; is
ib.; his romantic offer of suffer-   sent for to England to assist in
ing death instead of his King,   discovering the hiding-places
212; marries  Lady  Frances   of the Jesuits, 117.
Devereux, ib.; at the Restora- Spain, its siege of Ostend, 31;
tion is created Duke of Somer-   Jesuits in, 36; treasonable neset, ib.                         gotiations with, 85, 86, 87, 92,
Shrewsbury, Gilbert, Earl of, 204.   102.
Shrewsbury, Countess of, espouses Spenser, Edmund, the poet, 27;
the cause of Lady Arabella Stu-   sends a sonnet to the Earl of
art, 197; her appeals to Carr,   Northumberland, 170.
ib.; her plans for the escape of Starch, a royalty on, granted to
Arabella Stuart and Seymour to    Lord Northampton, 215.
France, 198; on the capture of St. John, Sir Oliver, Somerset
Lady Arabella, is committed to   placed in his custody prior to his
the Tower, 14, 204; when ex-   committal to the Tower, 240.
amined by the Council, refuses St. Peter's Church, 29.
to answer their questions, 205; St. Thomas's tower, William Seyher life in the Tower, 206; her   mour confined in, 188, 191.
examinations by Northampton, Stanley, Sir William, his treach207; and by a select committee    cry at Deventer, 41; sends Guy
of the Privy Council at York    Fawkes on a secret nmission to
House, ib.; remains in  the   the court of Spain, 87; his
Tower till the death of North-   opinion of Guy Fawkes's suffiampton, 208.                     ciency in the wars, 92; goes to
Shakspeare's " Measure for Mea-   Spain to induce Lerma to assist
sure" played before James I. at   with an armed force, 102; on
WVilton Court, 62. See W. S.    his return is induced by Father
Sherborne Castle, the seat of Sir   Owen to raise a brigade to coW. Raleigll, granted by King    operate with the Powder-Plot
James to Carr, 235.              conspirators, 109.




INDEX.                           265
Star Chamber, 165, 166, 167, 173,   cause, ib.; escapes from  East
208.                             Barnet, 199, 200; her flight to
Stourton, Charles, seventh Baron    Blackwall, 200; reaches the
Stourton, hung with a silken    bark engaged to take her to
cord for the murder of the two    France, 201; is pursued and
Hargils, 166.                    overtaken, 202; is lodged by
Stourton, Edward, ninth Baron   the orders of the King in the
Stourton, is apprehended on the   Tower, 204; her examination
discovery of the Powder Plot,   by  the  Council, 205, 206;
163, 166; is married to a sister   Waad's incivilities to her, 207,
of Frank Tresharn, 167; his   209, 210; her letters to the
examination before the Star   King, 208, 209; her sickness,
Chamber, ib.; his condemna-   and her letter to Northampton
tion, imprisonment in the Tow-   praying  for relief, 210; beer, and release, ib.             comes insane, ib.; failure of her
Stuart, Lady Arabella, a plot con-   friends' plan for her escape, 210,
cocted in her name, 58; is pres-   211; her death, 211; is buried
ent at the trial of Garnet, 161;   in Westminster Abbey, ib.
her engaging  and attractive  Suffolk, Earl of.  See Howard,
manners, 182; her numerous   Thomas.
suitors, ib.; an object of inter- Suffolk, Countess of, her impure
est to foreign courts, ib.; falls   character, 19, 59, 217, 225;
in love with William Seymour,   receives bribes from Don Juan
183-185; is committed to the    de  Taxis, 59; her jealousy
custody of Lord  Knyvet by    of Lady Arabella Stuart, 194;
Northampton,185; James sends   her daughter married to the
presents to her, ib.; secretly    Earl of Essex, 213; encourpledges her troth to Seymour,   ages her daughter to violate
ib.; part taken by her in the   her nuptial vows, 214; supplies
masques given on the creation    King  James with  handsome
of Henry Prince of Wales, 186;   favorites, 219; is repelled by
is married to Seymour at Green-   Overbury, 223.
wich without the King's consent, 187; the anger of James
thereat, ib.; is given into the Tesmond, Oswald. See Greenway.
custody of Sir Thomas Parry, Tichborne, Governor of Winchesand lodged by him at Vauxhall,   ter Castle, receives instructions
187, 188; her life in confine-   to execute the condemned prisment, 189, 190; her solicitude    oners, 63; his instructions counon account of her young hus-   termanded by the King, 64, 65.
band, 190; pays a visit to him  Tilletson, Francis, denounces the
in the Tower, 191; is by the or-   Jesuits to Cecil, 25.
ders of the King placed in the Torture, resorted  to, - Fawkes,
custody of the Bishop of Dur-   83; Nick Owen, 157; Garnet
ham, ib.; her kindness to her   threatened with, 160; Crompdomestics, 194; her appeal to   ton and Markham in the Torthe Chief Justices, 194, 195; is   ture-chamber, 205.
forcibly removed from  Vaux- Tower, the, prisoners confined in:
hall, 196; her illness and deten-   -Thollals Bates, 136; Edmund
tion at Highgate, ib.; is lodged    Campion, 40; Robert Carr, Earl
at East Barnet, 197; the Count-   of Somerset, 240; George Chainess of Shrewsbury espouses her   bers, 150; Father Clarke, 13,




266                       INDEX.
58; Lord Cobham, 66; Hugh   and confessions, 139, 140; a
Cronmpton, 205; Sir Everard   student of equivocation, 140;
Digby, 139; Guy Fawkes, 127;   his statements and  counterFather Fisher, 13, 153; James   statements respecting Garnet,
Franklin, 237; Father Garnet,   140, 141; his sudden death, 141;
46, 151; Lord Grey, 58, 66;   his punishment for his share in
John Grant, 144; Robert Kay,   the Essex Rising, how com136; Sir Griffin Markham, 58;   pounded for, 167, 168.
William Markham, 205; May- Tresham, Mrs., induces her huserne, 237; Lord Montagu, 165;   band to sign a paper containing
Sir Thomas Monson, 237; Lord   a denial of the confessions he
AMordaunt, 166; Father Old-   had made affecting Father Garcorne, 151; Sir Thomas Over-   net, 141.
hbury, 230, 231; Nicholas Owen, Tresham, Sir Thomas, one of the
150; Earl of Northumberland,   converts of Father Persons, 39;
173; Sir Walter Raleigh, 14;   bribes paid by him to avert punEdward Rodney, 204; Ambrose   ishment from  his son Frank,
Rokewood, 136; Archbishop    168..Sancroft, 174; William  Sey- Turner, Ann, the White Witch,
mour, 14, 188; Countess of   224; gives love- philters to
Shrewsbury, 14, 204; Countess   Lady Essex, ib.; takes Lady
of Somerset, 240; Father South-   Essex to Simon Forman, the
well, 16, 40; Lord Stourton,   astrologer,  225;  encourages
167; Lady Arabella Stuart,   Lady Essex's illicit meetings
204; Frank Tresham, 136; Ann    with  Carr, ib.; her servant
Turner, 237; Ann Vaux, 153,   Weston appointed keeper of
158; Richard  Weston, 237;   Sir Thomas Overbury, 232; inRobert Winter, 136; Thomas   structs Weston how to mingle
Winter, 136.                    poison with Overbury's drink,
Tower Ghost, 174.                 233; her apprehension and trial,
Tower Hill, Sir Gervase Helwyss   237, 238; her statement that
hung in chains on, 239.         Prince  Henry  was poisoned
Treason - Spanish,  Surprising,   with a bunch of grapes, 237; is
and the Priests', Coke's three   hung at Tyburn, 239.
Plots, 58.                    Turvey, the seat of Lord MorTrumball, English resident in   daunt, a resort of the Jesuits,
Flanders, reports to Winwood    166.
the revelations of the appren- Tyburn, Ann Turner hung at,
tice Reeve, 237.                239.
Tresham, Frank, is taken into
confidence by Catesby, 85; is
inclined to support King James Vaux, Ann, known as " Mrs. Peron his accession to the throne,   kins" at White Webbs,45; her
87; Catesby is troubled with   intimacy with Father Garnet,
doubts respecting his fidelity to   45, 46; accompanies Garnet to
the Plot, 114; death of his   Hendlip Hall, 145; after the
father, Sir Thomas, and his   discovery of Garnet, remains at
succession to Rushton Hall, ib.;   Hendlip Hall with Mlrs. Abinghis conference with Catesby at i ton, 149; follows Garnet to LonBarnet, 121,122; urges Catesbvhy   don, and her communications
to flee to France, 123; is taken   with him, 150, 151, 152,154,158,
prisoner, 136; his examinations   159; her house at White Webbs




INDEX.                           26 7
searched, and examination of   for his design of blowing up the
her servant James, li58; is ar-   King, ib.; is hired by Percy,
rested and committed to the    and  Guy  Fawkes  installed
Tower, 153, 158; her boldness   there, 96, 97; powder, planks,
when under examination,158; is   and tools stored there by the
set free and again arrested and    conspirators, 97; conferences
examined, 159, 160; forwards a   between Bacon and Hamilton
letter to Garnet in the Tower,   held there, 98; is vacated by
159; her fruitless examinations,   the conspirators, and the stores
160; Garnet's declaration re-   removed, 101.
specting her, 161.
Vaux, Elizabeth, a letter with
her signature is found on Guy Waad, Sir William, Lieutenant of
Fawkes on his apprehension,   the Tower, inscriptions by him
77.                              on the panels of the PowderVaux, Helen. See Mrs. Brooksby.   Plot Room, 73-75; puts Guy
Vaux, Henry, son of Lord Vaux,   Fawkes to the rack, and wrings
enters a monastery, 46.          confessions from  him, 82, 83;
Vaux, William, Lord of Har-   his treatment of the Jesuit prisrowden, his sufferings for con-   oners, 138; is present at the
science' sake, 45; history of his   death of Little John, 157; refamily, 45, 46.                  ceives as prisoner the Earl of
Vaux, Lord, confined in the Fleet   Northumberland, 174; William
for life, 216.                   Seymour intrusted to his cusVaux, Mrs., of Harrowden, assist-   tody, 188; his wranglings with
ance given by her to the Pow-   Seymour respecting the furnider-Plot conspirators, 108.      ture of his room, 188, 189, 208;
Vauxhall, Lady Arabella Stuart's   escape of Seymour from  his
residence at, 188, 189.          custody, 202; his cruel treatVavasour, W., writes the paper   ment of Lady Arabella Stuart,
said to have been Frank Tre-   207, 209, 210; is superseded
sham's, containing a denial of   through  the machinations of
the charges against Father Gar-   Northampton by Sir Gervase
net, 141.                        Helwyss, 231.
Velasco, Juan Fernando de, his WTales, Catesby counsels an apanswer to Winter on the assist-   peal to the Catholic population
ance to be rendered by Spain to   of, 132.
the Jesuit conspirators, 92.   Walsh, Sir Richard, assaults HolVere, Sir Francis, commander of   beach House, the resort of the
the troops at the siege of Ostend,   Powder-Plot conspirators, 135.
22, 23, 30; is recalled from the Warner, Walter, one of the freLow Countries by James I., 68;   quent visitors to the Earl of
Northumberland quarrels with    Northumberland in the Tower,
him, 169.                        178.
Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, Warwickshire, provision made by
the Earl of Northumberland    Cecil to prevent an insurrection
jealous of his magnificence,   of the Catholics in, 117.
180; his opposition to the How- Water gate, 14, 26, 69, 203.
ards, 241.                     Ward, Thomas, an unsworn memVinegar House, a portion of the   ber of the Powder Plot, is with
old House of Lords, 93; sup-   Lord Monteagle when he reposed by Catesby to be suitable   ceives the warning letter, 118;




268                        INDEX.
is desired by Monteagle to ap-   tors concerned in the Priests'
prise Catesby of the discovery    Plot tried at, 61, 64.
of the Plot, 119.              Windsor, Lord, 53.
Watson, William, a  Catholic  Winifred's Well, pilgrimage to,
priest, his opposition  to the    111.
Jesuits, 49; his Ten Quodli- Winter, Thomas, one of the Powbetical Questions, ib.; is seized    der-Plot conspirators, his early
by Bishop Bancroft, 50; con-   history, 84; his connection with
cocts with Father Clarke what   Lord Monteagle, ib.; is sent on
is known as the Priests' Plot,   a nmission to the court of Spain
51, 52; induces Sir  Griffin   by Father Garnet, 85; Catesby
Malrkham  and George Brooke    announces to him his project of
to join the Plot, 52-54; his   blowing up the King, 90; is
overtures to Sir Edward Par-   sent on a secret mission to Veham, 55; is arrested and corn-   lasco, the Constable of Castile,
rmitted to the Tower, 58; is   91, 92; his  interview  with
condemned, hung, and quar-   Father Owen in Brussels, 92;
tered, 62.                       he engages the services of Guy
Westminster Abbey, Lady Ara-   Fawkes in the Powder Plot, 92,
bella Stuart buried in, 211.     93; assists Kay in conveying
Westminster Hall, trial of Father   the powder and mining tools
Garnet in, 161; of Lord and   to Vinegar House, 97; Ward
Lady Somerset in, 242, 243.      urges him to warn Catesby of
Weston, a Jesuit priest in the    his danger, 119, 120; requests
household of Lady Arundel, 39,   Tresham  to repair to Barnet
40; is confined in the Clink    and confer with Catesby, 121;
Prison, 16, 40.                  receives the promised money
Weston, Richard, a servant of   from Tresham, 122, 123; is inAnn Turner, appointed keeper   formed by Kit Wright of the
of Sir Thomas Overbury when    discovery of the Plot, 128; he
committed to the Tower, 232;   leaves London, 130; is wounded
is instructed by Mrs. Turner   and taken prisoner at Holbeach
how to mix poison with Over-   House, 135; confessions wrung
bury's drink, 233; his arrest,   from  him  in the Tower, 138,
confessions, and  death, 238,   140; is drawn, hung, and bow240.                             eled on Tower Hill, 144.
Whaddon Hall, the family seat Winter, Robert, of Huddington,
of the Greys of Wilton, 26.      is drawn into the Powder Plot
White tower, Father Fisher a   by Catesby, 103, 104; is taken
prisoner in, 13, 153.            prisoner after the assault of
White Webbs, its occupation by    Holbeach House, 136; is hung
the Jesuits, 42-48, 86, 91, 110;   near Paul's Cross, 144.
is searched for evidence against Winwood, Ralph, suggested  as
Garnet and Ann Vaux, 158.        Secretary of State, 223; gives
Wilson, one of Cecil's spies in   instructions to Trumb all reSpain, 115.                      specting the apprentice Reeve,
WVilton Castle, the seat of Lord   237; lays before the King the
Grey, 13, 57-65; King James   confessions of Reeve and Heltakes up his residence there    wyss, which lead to the appreduring the trial of the prison-   hension of Lord and Lady Somers at Winchester, 61.           erset, 237-240; his opposition
Winchester Castle, the conspira-   to the Howards, 237, 241.




INDEX.                         269
"Wizard  Earl," the  Earl of Wright, Jack, introduces Percy
Northumberland why so called,   to Catesby, 94; takes the secret
174.                           oath, 95; on the discovery of the
Wood, Mary, a Norfolk  hag,   plot leaves London with CatesLady Somerset gives her a dia-   by, 128; is mortally wounded
mond ring for a philter to rid   at Holbeach, 135.
her of her husband, 227; is Wright, Kit, is sent by Garnet
arrested and makes confessions   and Catesby to the court of
which implicate Lady Somer-   Spain, 87; meets on his way
set, 228.                       Guy Fawkes, ib.; a memorial
Wood, Sir David, refuses to com-   sword ordered for him by Rokeply with the desire of Lady   wood, 114; is sent by Percy to
Somerset that he should assas-   Isleworth, 124; hears under the
sinate Sir Thomas Overbury,   windows of Montagu Close that
229, 230.                      the Plot has been discovered,128;
Worcester jail, Humphrey Little-   he informs Winter and Percy,
ton confined in, 148; Mr. Abing-   128, 129; his flight with Percy,
ton, 149.                       ib.; his arrival at Holbeach in
Woodstock, court of King James   Staffordshire, 134; receives there
held at, 184; Lady Arabella   a mortal shot, 135; his body exStuart and William  Seymour   humed and hung, 136.
secretly betrothed at, 185.   W. S., lines by, on Overbury, asWorcester, one of King James's   cribed to Shakspeare, 241.
Council, present at the reading
of Monteagle's letter, 118; one
of the commissioners appointed York, Duke of. See Prince Charles.
to try Garnet, 161.           York House, examination of the
Wotton, his name mentioned as   Countess of Shrewsburv at, 207;
one able to perform the duties   commission  of inquiry  into
of Secretary of State, 223.     Overbury's death at, 238.
SER. II.                 24