It Might Have Been: The Story of the Gunpowder Plot

  CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  ACCORDING TO THAT BEGINNING.

  "Carry him forth and bury him. Death's peace Rest on his memory! Mercy by his bier Sits silent, or says only these few words-- Let him who is without sin 'mongst ye all Cast the first stone."

  Dinah Mulock.

  A great crowd had assembled near Whitehall, and was lining Charing Crossand the Tiltyard below, on the morning of that 13th of February, whenSir Henry Bromley and his guard, with the prisoners in their midst,marched down the street to the Palace. Among them were TemperanceMurthwaite and Rachel, and near them was Mrs Abbott. The crowd wasdeeply interested in the prisoners, especially the two priests.

  "There is a Provincial!" said a respectable-looking man who stood nextto Rachel.

  "Ay, and there goeth a young Pope!" returned Temperance, grimly, inallusion to Hall.

  "They bear a good brag, most of 'em," said the man. "Would we were ridof 'em all, neck and crop!" said another.

  "Pack 'em off to the American plantations!" suggested a third.

  "If I dwelt there, I shouldn't give you thanks," replied the first.

  "Find some land where nought dwelleth save baboons and snakes, and send'em all there in a lump," was the response.

  "What think you, Rachel?" demanded Mrs Abbott, who was not often silentfor so long at once.

  "Why, they're men, just like other folks!" was Rachel's contribution.

  "Did you think they'd have horns and tails?" said Temperance.

  "Well, nay, not justly that," answered Rachel: "but I reckoned they'dha' looked a bit more like wastrels [scoundrels]. Yon lad's none sobad-looking as many a man you may meet i' th' street. And th' owd un'smeterly [middling], too. Happen [perhaps] they aren't any o' theworst."

  "Why, maid," said the man who had first spoken, "that's Father Garnet,the head of all the Jesuits in this country; there isn't a craftier foxin all England than he."

  "Well, I shouldn't ha' thought it," saith Rachel.

  "Faces tell not alway truth," said Temperance.

  "He's good eyes, though," remarked Mrs Abbott, "though they be a bitheavy, as though he'd had a poor night's rest."

  "He's one o' them long, narrow faces," said the man; "I never trustsuch. And a long nose, too--just like a fox."

  "Ay, I'll be bound he's a fause [cunning] un," commented Rachel.

  "His mouth's the worst thing about him," said Temperance.

  "It's a little un," observed Rachel.

  "Little or big, it's a false one," answered Temperance. "There's aprim, fixed, sanctimonious look about it that I wouldn't trust withanything I cared to see safe."

  "Eh, I'd none trust one o' them--not to sell a pound o' butter," saidRachel. "And by th' same token, Mrs Temperance, I mun be home to skimth' cream, or Charity'll take it off like a gaumless [stupid] lass ashoo [she] is. Hoo can do some things, well enough, but hoo cannot skimcream!"

  "Go, good maid, if thou canst win out of this crowd, but methinks thoushalt have thy work cut out to do so."

  "Eh, she will," said Mrs Abbott. "And mind you, Rachel! if you pullyourself forth, you'll find your gown in rags by the time you're athome. I do hope, neighbour, you deal not with Simpkinson, in theStrand; that rogue sold me ten ells of green stamyn, and charged methirty shillings the ell, and I vow it was scarce made up ere it begana-coming to bits. I'll give it him when I can catch him! and if I servenot our Seth out for dinting in the blackjack last night, I'm a Dutchwoman, and no mistake! Black jacks are half-a-crown apiece, and so Itold him; but I'll give him a bit more afore I've done with him; trustme. There is no keeping lads in order. The mischievousness of 'em'spast count. My husband, he says, `Lads will be lads,'--he's that easy,if a mouse ran away with his supper from under his nose, he'd only callafter it, `Much good may it do thee.' Do you ever hear mice in yourhouse, Mrs Murthwaite! I'm for ever and the day after plagued wi'them, and I do wish those lads 'ud make theirselves a bit useful andcatch 'em, instead o' dinting in black jacks. But, dear heart, you'llas soon catch the mice as catch them at aught that's useful. They'll--"

  "My mistress," said Mrs Abbott's next neighbour, "may I ask if yourhusband be a very silent man?"

  "I'm sure o' that," said the man who followed him.

  "Eh, bless you, they all talk and chatter at our house while I can'tslip a word in," was the lady's answer.

  "That's why she has so many to let go out o' door," remarked the lastspeaker.

  "I thought so," observed the neighbour, "because I have marked that menand women do mostly wed with their contraries."

  "Why, what mean you?" inquired Mrs Abbott, turning round to look him inthe face.

  "That my way lieth down this by-street," said he, working himself out ofthe crush into Channon Row, "and so I bid you all good-morrow."

  Temperance Murthwaite laughed to herself, as she let herself in at thedoor of the White Bear, while Mrs Abbott hurried into the Angel with abox on the ear to Dorcas and Hester, who leaned upon the gate watchingthe crowd.

  "Get you in to your business!" said she. "Chatter, chatter, chatter!One might as well live in a cage o' magpies at once, and ha' done withit. Be off with the pair of ye!"

  Garnet's admissions in answer to the questions put to him were few andcautious. He allowed that for twenty years he had been the Superior ofthe English Jesuits, but denied any knowledge of the negotiations withSpain, carried on before the death of Queen Elizabeth. As to Fawkes, hehad never seen him but once in his life, at the previous Easter.Questioned about White Webbs, he flatly denied that he ever was there,or anywhere near Enfield Chase "since Bartholomewtide." He was not inLondon or the suburbs in November. The Attorney-General was very kindto the prisoner, and promised "to make the best construction that hecould" of his answers to the King; but Sir William Wade was not the manto accept the word of a Jesuit, unless it should be the word "Guilty."He accused Garnet of wholesale violation of the Decalogue in theplainest English, and coolly told him that he could not believe him onhis oath, since the Pope could absolve him for any extent of lying orequivocation. It was plainly no easy matter to beguile Sir WilliamWade.

  The next day, February 14th, Garnet and Hall were removed to the Towerof London, where the former found himself, to his satisfaction, lodgedin "a very fine chamber," next to that of his brother priest. Here, ashe records in a letter to his friends, he received the best treatment,being "allowed every meal a good draught of excellent claret wine," aswell as permitted to send for additional sack out of his own purse forhimself and the keeper: and he was suffered to vegetate as he thoughtproper, with only one sorrow to vex his soul--Sir William Wade.

  Sir William Wade, the Lieutenant of the Tower, constituted himself thetorment of poor Garnet's life. He was perpetually passing through hisroom, or at the furthest, loitering in the gallery beyond. Sometimes hetreated the prisoner as beneath contempt, and would not utter a word tohim; at other times he sat down and regaled him with conversation of afree and easy character. The scornful silence was bad enough, but theconversation was considerably worse. Whatever else Garnet was, he wasan English gentleman, as his letters testify; and Sir William Wade wasnot. He was, on the contrary, one of those distressing people who pridethemselves on being outspoken, and calling a spade a spade, which theydo in the most vulgar and disagreeable manner. He favoured the prisonerwith his unvarnished opinion of the Society to which he belonged, andwith unsavoury anecdotes of its members, mingled with the bitterestabuse: and the worthy knight was not the man to spare his adjectiveswhen a sufficient seasoning of them would add zest to a dish of nouns.At other times Sir William dipped his tongue in honey, and used thesweetest language imaginable. It is manifest from the manner in whichGarnet mentions him, that the smallest of his trials was not Sir WilliamWade.

  Mr Garnet's first act, on being inducted into these comfortablequarters in his Majesty's Tower, was to bribe his keeper to wink at hispeccadilloes. A few cups of that supernumerary sack, and an occasionalpiece of silver, were wo
rth expending on the safe carriage of hisletters and other necessities which might in time arise. He madeaffectionate inquiries as to the keeper's domestic relations, anddiscovered that he was blessed with a wife and a mother. To the wife hedespatched a little of that excellent sack, and secured permission forhis letters to be placed in the custody of the mother, who dwelt justoutside the walls. But he was especially rejoiced when, a few daysafter his incarceration, the keeper sidled up to him, with a finger onhis lips and a wink in his eye, and beckoned him to a particular part ofthe room, where with great parade of care and silence he showed him aconcealed door between his own cell and that of Hall, intimating bysigns that secret communications might be held after this fashion, andhe, the keeper, would take care to be conveniently blind and deaf.

  This was a comfort indeed, for the imprisoned priests could now mutuallyforgive each others' sins. There was a little cranny in the top of thedoor, which might be utilised for a mere occasional whisper; but when aregular confession was to be made, the door of communication could beopened for an inch or two. The one drawback was that the vexatious doorinsisted on creaking, as if it were a Protestant door desirous of givingwarning of Popish practices. But the Jesuits were equal to thedifficulty. When the door was to be shut, the unemployed one eitherfell to shovelling coals upon the fire, or was suddenly seized with asevere bronchial cough, so that the ominous creak should not be heardoutside. The comfort, therefore, remained; and heartily glad were theimprisoned Jesuits to have found this means of communication by the kindhelp of their tender-hearted keeper.

  Alas, poor Jesuits! They little knew that they were caught in their owntrap. The treacherous keeper drank their sack, and pocketed theirangels, but their letters rarely went further than my Lord ofSalisbury's desk; and in a convenient closet unseen by them, close tothe creaking door, Mr Forset, a Justice of the Peace, and MrLocherson, Lord Salisbury's secretary, were listening with all theirears to their confidential whispers, and taking thereby bad "coulds"which they subsequently had to go home and nurse. It was fox _versus_fox. As soon as the door was closed under cover of cough or coals, thehidden spies came quickly forth, and in another chamber wrote down theconversation just passed for the benefit of his Majesty's Judges.

  Benighted Protestants were evidently Messrs. Forset and Locherson, forthe "Catholic practice" of auricular confession was to them a strangeand perplexing matter. They innocently record that "the confession wasshort, with a prayer in Latin before they did confess to each other, andbeating their hands on their breasts." The Confiteor was succeeded bythe whispered confession, in such low tones that scarcely anythingreached the disappointed spies. Hall made his confession first, andGarnet followed. The subsequent conversation was in louder tones,though still whispered. Garnet informed his fellow-conspirator that hewas suspicious of the good faith of some one whose name the spies failedto hear--to which frailty he allowed that he was very subject; that hehad received a note from Thomas Rookwood, who told him of Greenway'sescape, and from Gerard, who therefore was evidently in safety, though"he had been put to great plunges;" that he believed Mrs Anne was inthe Town, and would let them hear from their friends; that the keeperhad accepted an angel, and sundry cups of sack for himself and his wife,and taken them very kindly,--recommending similar treatment on Hall'spart; that Garnet was very much afraid he should be driven to confessWhite Webbs, but if so, he would say that he "was there, but knewnothing of the matter." Then Hall made a remark lost by the spies, towhich Garnet answered, with a profane invocation--too common in allranks at that day--"How did they know that!" If he were pressed as tohis treasonable practices before the Queen's death, he would admit them,seeing that he held a general pardon up to that time. Garnet bemoanedhimself concerning Sir William Wade, and expressed his annoyance at thepersistent questioning of the Court touching White Webbs.

  "I think it not convenient," said he, "to deny that we were at WhiteWebbs, they do so much insist upon that place. Since I came out ofEssex I was there two times, and so I may say I was there; but theypress me to be there in October last, which I will by no means confess,but I shall tell them I was not there since Bartholomewtide."

  He expressed his apprehension lest the servants at White Webbs should beexamined and tortured, which might "make them yield to some confession;"a fear which made him more resolute to admit nothing concerning theplace. He was also very much afraid of being asked about certainletters which Lord Monteagle had written.

  "But in truth I am well persuaded," he concluded, "that I shall windmyself out of that matter; and for any former business, I care not."

  Just as Garnet whispered these words, footsteps were heard approachingthe chamber.

  "Hark you, hark you, Mr Hall!" cried Garnet in haste; "whilst I shutthe door, make a hawking and a spitting."

  Mr Hall obediently and energetically cleared his throat, under cover ofwhich Garnet closed the door, and presented himself the next moment tothe edified eyes of Sir William Wade in the pious aspect of a priesttelling his beads.

  Another conference through the door was held on the 25th of February,wherein Garnet was heard to lament to Hall that he "held not betterconcurrence"--namely, that he did not use diligence to tell exactly thearranged falsehoods on which the two had previously agreed. The poorspies found themselves in difficulties on this occasion through "a cockcrowing under the window of the room, and the cackling of a hen at thevery same instant." Hall, however, was heard to undertake a betteradherence to his lesson. It is more than once noted by the spies thatin these conferences the prisoners "used not one word of godliness orreligion, or recommending themselves or their cause to God; but all hathbeen how to contrive safe answers."

  During Garnet's imprisonment in the Tower, if his gaolers may betrusted, his consumption of that extra sack was not regulated by therules of the Blue Ribbon Army. They averred that he was "indulgent tohimself" in this particular, and "daily drank sack so liberally as if hemeant to drown sorrow."

  On the 26th, Garnet knew that one of his apprehensions was verified,when he was confronted with poor James Johnson, who had borne thetorture so bravely, and who now admitted that the prisoner thus shown tohim was the man whom he had known at White Webbs as Mr Mease, thesupposed brother of his mistress, Mrs Perkins. He confessed that hehad seen him many times. After this, it was useless to deny White Webbsany longer. Hall was examined on the same day; but being ignorant ofthe evidence given by Johnson, he audaciously affirmed that he had notvisited White Webbs, and knew of no such place.

  That evening, Garnet gave a shilling to his keeper, with a request tohave some oranges brought to him. This fruit, first introduced intoEngland about 1568, was at that time very cheap and plentiful, abouteighteen-pence the hundred being the usual price. Sir William Wade,lounging about the gallery as usual, met the keeper as he came out ofthe cell with the money in his hand.

  "What would the old fox now?" demanded he.

  "An 't please you, Sir, Mr Garnet asked for oranges."

  "Oh, come! he may have an orange or two--he can't do any harm with themwithout he choke himself, and that should spare the King the cost of arope to hang him," said shrewd Sir William.

  But he was not quite shrewd enough, for it never occurred to hisnon-Jesuitical mind that one of those innocent oranges was destined toplay the part of a traitorous inkstand by the Reverend Henry Garnet.

  A large sheet of paper, folded letter-wise, came out of the prison inthe keeper's hand an hour later. It was addressed to the ReverendThomas Rookwood, and contained only--in appearance--the following veryunobjectionable words. They were written in ink, at the top of thefirst page:--

  "Let these spectacles be set in leather, and with a leather case, or letthe fould be fitter for the nose.--Yours for ever, Henry Garnett."

  Who could think of detaining so innocent a missive, or prevent the poorprisoner from obtaining a pair of comfortable spectacles? But when thesheet of paper was held to the fire, a very different letter startedout, in fai
nt tracings of orange-juice:--

  "This bearer knoweth that I write thus, but thinks it must be read withwater. The papers sent with bisket-bread I was forced to burn, and didnot read. I am sorry they have, without advise of friends, adventuredin so wicked an action.--I must needs acknowledge my being with the twosisters, and that at White Webbs, as is trew, for they are so jealous ofWhite Webbs that I can no way else satisfy. My names I all confesse butthat last... I have acknowledged that I went from Sir Everard's toCoughton... Where is Mrs Anne?"

  A few days later, on the 2nd of March, after a careful reconnoitre toavoid the ubiquitous Sir William, Garnet applied his lips to the crannyin the door.

  "Hark you! is all well? Let us go to confession first, if you will."

  The spies, ensconced in secret, confess that they heard nothing ofHall's confession, but that Garnet several times interrupted it with"Well, well!"

  Garnet then made his own confession, "very much more softlier than heused to whisper in their interloqucions." It was short, but unless thespy was mistaken, "he confessed that he had drunk so extraordinarilythat he was forced to go two nights to bed betimes." Then something wassaid concerning Jesuits, to which Garnet added--

  "That cannot be; I am Chancellor. It might proceed of the malice of thepriests."

  The conversation on this occasion was brought to a hasty close byGarnet's departure to read or write a letter; Mr Hall being requestedto "make a noise with the shovel" while he was shutting the door.

  The second letter to Mr Thomas Rookwood followed this interview. Itwas equally short in its ostensible length, and piously acknowledged thereceipt of two bands, two handkerchiefs, one pair of socks, and a Bible.Beneath came the important postscript "Your last letter I could notread; the pen did not cast incke. Mr Catesby did me much wrong, andhath confessed that he asked me the question in Queen Elizabeth's timeof the powder action, and I said it was lawfull: all which is mostuntrew. He did it to draw in others. I see no advantage they haveagainst me for the powder action." [Gunpowder Plot Book, article 242.]

  Garnet added that his friend might communicate with him through lettersleft in charge of the keeper's mother; but he begged him not to pay apersonal visit unless he could first make sure that the redoubtable Wadewas absent.

  An answer from the Reverend Thomas consisted, to all appearance, of asimple sheet of writing-paper, enclosing a pair of spectacles in theircase, and bearing the few words written outside--"I pray you provewhether the spectacles do fit your sight." Inside, in orange-juice, wasthe real communication, from Anne Vaux, wherein she promised to come tothe garden, and begged Garnet to appoint a time when she might hope tosee him. [Gunpowder Plot Book, article 243.] This seems to show thatGarnet was sometimes allowed the liberty of the Tower garden.

  On the 5th of March, Hall and Garnet were re-examined, when Hallconfessed the truth of the conversations through the door, and Garnetdenied them. The same day, the latter wrote a long letter, addressed toMrs Anne Vaux or any of his friends, giving a full account of hissufferings while in "the hoale" at Hendlip Hall, and of his presentcondition in the Tower. Remarking that he was permitted to purchasesherry out of his own purse, Garnet adds--

  "This is the greatest charge I shall be at, for fire will soon beunnecessary, if I live so long, whereof I am very uncertain, and ascareless... They say I was at White Webbs with the conspirators; Isaid, if I was ever there after the 1st of September, I was guilty ofthe powder action. The time of my going to Coughton is a greatpresumption, but all Catholics know it was necessary. I thank God, I amand have been _intrepidus_, wherein I marvail at myself, having had suchapprehension before; but it is God's grace."

  On the third examination, which was on the 6th of March, both Garnet andHall confessed White Webbs at last,--the former, that he had hired thehouse for the meetings of the conspirators, the latter that they had metthere twice in the year. Garnet also allowed that Perkins was the aliasof the Hon. Anne Vaux, to avoid whose indictment he afterwards said hisconfession had been made. It is evident, from several allusions in hisletters, that Garnet was terribly afraid of torture, and almost equallyaverse to confronting witnesses. The first was merely human nature; thesecond speaks ill for his consciousness of that innocence which herepeatedly asserts.

  But not yet had the Gunpowder Plot secured its latest or its saddestvictim. Soon after Sir Henry Bromley's departure from Hendlip, MrsAbington came to London, bringing Anne Vaux with her, and they tooklodgings in Fetter Lane, then a more aristocratic locality than now.Here they remained for a few weeks, doing all that could be done to helpGarnet, and poor Anne continually haunting the neighbourhood of hisprison, and trying to catch glimpses of him, if not to obtain stoleninterviews, at the garden gate. But on the 10th of March theauthorities interfered, and Anne Vaux was a prisoner of the Tower.Examined on the following day, she deposed that she "kept the house atWhite Webbs at her own charge;" that she was visited there by Catesby,Thomas Winter, Tresham, and others, but said that she could not rememberdates nor further names. She refused to admit that Garnet had beenthere, but she allowed that she had been among the party of pilgrims toSaint Winifred's Well, in company with Lady Digby and others whom shedeclined to name. Lastly, she persisted in saying that she had knownnothing of the plot.

  She was told--not improbably by Sir William Wade, and if so, we may besure, not very tenderly--that Garnet had been one of the chiefcriminals. A few sorrowful lines remain showing the spirit in which sheheard it. They were written on the 12th of March.

  "I am most sore to here that Father Garnet shoulde be ane wease pryue tothis most wicked actione, as himselfe euer cauled it, for that hee madeto mee maney greate prostertations to the contrari diuers times sence.

  "Anne Vaux." [Gunpowder Plot Book, article 201.]

  After this, Garnet gave up the fiction of his total ignorance of theconspirators' object. In his fourth examination, on the 13th of March,he said that on the demise of Queen Elizabeth, he had received a letterfrom the General of the Jesuits, stating that the new Pope Clement hadconfirmed the order of his predecessor that no such plot should be seton foot, and that Garnet had accordingly done what in him lay to turnCatesby from the idea. Catesby, however, thought himself authorised bytwo briefs received by Garnet about twelve months earlier, commandingthe Roman Catholics of England not to consent to any successor ofElizabeth who should refuse to submit to Rome. These Garnet had shownto Catesby before destroying them. It is evident from these admissions,not only that Garnet had been privy to the plot from the first, but alsothat it was known at Rome, and controlled from the Vatican--forbiddenwhen success appeared unlikely, and smiled on as soon as it seemedprobable.

  Shortly after this, a letter came from Anne Vaux--a letter which sadlyreveals the character of its writer, and shows how different life mighthave been for this poor passionate-hearted woman, had she not beencrushed under the iron heel of Rome.

  "To live without you," she writes to Garnet, "it is not life, but death!Now I see my los. I am and euer will be yours, and so I humbly besecheyou to account me. O that I might see you!"

  Her second examination took place a few days later, on the 24th ofMarch. She now acknowledged that Tresham Catesby, and Garnet, used tomeet at her house at Wandsworth: and that Garnet was wont to say tothem, when they were engaged in discussion,--"Good gentlemen, be quiet;God will do all for the best; and we must get it by prayer at God'shands, in whose hands are the hearts of princes." The confession wascarried to Garnet. Poor frail, loving heart! she meant to save him, andhe knew it. He wrote calmly underneath--

  "I do acknowledge these meetings.--H. Garnett." [Gunpowder Plot Book,article 212.]

  Even her very gaolers dealt pitifully with Anne Vaux. "Thisgentlewoman," said Lord Salisbury to Garnet, "hath harboured you thesetwelve years last past, and seems to speak for you in her confessions; Ithink she would sacrifice herself for you to do you good, and youlikewise for her."

  Garnet made no answer.

 
Letters continued to pass between the cells. A remarkable one was sentto Anne on the 2nd of April, written principally in orange-juice, on thequestion which she had submitted to Garnet as to her living abroad afterher release.

  "Concerning the disposal of yourself, I give you leave to go over tothem. The vow of obedience ceaseth, being made to the Superior of thisMission: you may, upon deliberation, make it to some there. If you liketo stay here, then I exempt you, till a Superior be appointed, whom youmay acquaint: but tell him that you made your vow yourself, and thentold me; and that I limited certain conditions, as that _you are notbound to sin [Note 1] except you be commanded in virtute obedientiae_.We may accept no vows, but men may make them as they list, and we aftergive directions accordingly. Mr Hall dreamed that the General...provided two fair tabernacles or seats for us: and this he dreamedtwice." [Gunpowder Plot Book, article 245.]

  The sentence in italics is terrible. No Protestant ever penned a darkerindictment against Popery.

  Anne Vaux received this letter, for she answered it at once. She speaksof her "vow of poverty," and adds--

  "Mr Haule his dreame had been a great cumfert, if at the fute of thethrone there had bin a place for me. God and you know my unworthenes.--Yours and not my own, Anne Vaux." [Gunpowder Plot Book, article 246.]

  On the following day, Garnet wrote again--eight closely covered pages,in his own hand throughout. I append a few extracts from this patheticletter.

  "My very loving and most dear Sister,--I will say what I think it bestfor you to do, when it please God to set you at liberty. If you canstay in England, and enjoy the use of the Sacraments as heretofore, itwould be best: and then I wish that you and your sister live as beforein a house of common repair of the Society, or where the Superior of theMission shall ordinarily remain: or if this cannot be, then make choiceof some one of the Society, as you shall like, which I am sure will begranted you. If you like to go over, stay at Saint Omer, and send forFriar Baldwin, with whom consult where to live: but I think Saint Omerless healthy than Brussels. In respect of your weakness, I think itbetter for you to live abroad, and not in a monastery. Your vow ofobedience, being made to the Superior of the Mission here, when you areover, ceaseth: and then may you consult how to make it again. None ofthe Society can accept a vow of obedience of any; but any one may vow ashe will, and then one of the Society may direct accordingly."

  Garnet proceeds to say that the vow of poverty was to cease in likemanner, and might be similarly renewed. "All that which is forannuities" he had always meant to be hers, in the hope that she wouldafterwards leave it to the Jesuit Mission: but she is at liberty, if shewish it, to alienate a third of this, or if she should desire at anytime to "retire into religion,"--i.e., to become a nun--and require aportion, she is to help herself freely. He "thanks God most humbly thatin all his speeches and practices he has had a desire to do nothingagainst the glory of God." He was so much annoyed by having beenmisunderstood by the two spies that he "thought it would make ouractions much more excusable to tell the truth, than to stand to thetorture, or trial by witnesses." As to his acquaintance with the plot,he sought to hinder it more than men can imagine, as the Pope can tell:how could he have dissuaded the conspirators if he had absolutely knownnothing? But he thought it not allowable to tell what he knew. None ofthem ever told him anything, though they used his name freely--heimplies, more freely than truth justified them in doing: "yet have Ihurt nobody." He ordered the removal of certain books which he does notfurther describe; if they be found, "you can challenge them as your own,as in truth they are." He will "die not as a victorious martyr, but asa penitent thief:" but "let God work His will." The most touching wordsare the last. Up to this point, the spiritual director has beenaddressing his subject. Now the priest disappears, and the man's heartbreaks out.

  "Howsoever I shall die a thief, yet you may assure yourself yourinnocence is such, that but if you die by reason of your imprisonment,you shall die a martyr. [From this point the letter is in Latin.] `Thetime is come that judgment must begin at the house of God.' Farewell,my ever beloved in Christ, and pray for me." [Domestic State Papers,James the First, volume 20, article 11.]

  Yet a few words were to be written before the end. The execution ofHall, which took place at Worcester on the 7th of April, unnerved Garnetas nothing else had done. He wrote, a fortnight later, to her who washis last and had always been his truest friend--a few hurried,incoherent words, which betray the troubled state of his mind.

  "It pleaseth God daily to multiply my crosses. I beseech Him give mepatience and perseverance to the end. I was, after a week's hiding,taken in a friend's house, where our confessions and secret conferenceswere heard, and my letters taken by some indiscretion abroad;--then thetaking of yourself;--after, my arraignment;--then the taking of MrGreenwell;--then the slander of us both abroad;--then the ransackinganew of Erith and the other house;--then the execution of Mr Hall;--andnow, last of all, the apprehension of Richard and Robert: with a cipher,I know not of whose, laid to my charge, and that which was a singularoversight, a letter in cipher, together with the ciphers--which lettermay bring many into question.

  "`The patience of Job ye have heard, and have seen the end of theLord,--that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy.' Blessed bethe name of the Lord! [These quotations are in Latin]--Yours,eternally, as I hope, H.G."

  "_21st April_--I thought verily my chamber in Thames Street had beengiven over, and therefore I used it to save Erith; but I might have doneotherwise."

  At the end of the letter is a symbolic sketch. The mystic lettersI.H.S. within a circle, are surmounted by a cross, and beneath them is aheart pierced by three nails. Underneath is written, in Latin--"God is[the strength] of my heart, and God is my portion for ever."

  So end the last words which passed between the unhappy pair.

  In his sixth examination, four days later, Garnet admitted that as oftenas he and Greenway had met, he had asked concerning the plot, "beingcareful of the matter;" and that "in general" he had inquired who was tobe chosen protector after the explosion; Greenway having answered thatthis "was to be deferred until the blow was passed, and then theprotector to be chosen out of the noblemen that should be saved." Thiscompletely settles the question as to Garnet's guilty knowledge of theplot before he received Digby's letter. Greenway is here shown to beGarnet's informant; whereas the letter was addressed to Garnet himself,and the occasion on which he received it was the last time that he eversaw Greenway!

  A few days before his execution, the prisoner received a visit fromthree Deans, who essayed to converse with him upon various points ofdoctrine. Garnet, however, declined any discussion, on the ground that"it was unlawful for him." He was asked whether he thought that heshould die a martyr.

  "I a martyr!" exclaimed Garnet, with a deep sigh. "Oh, what a martyrshould I be! God forbid! If, indeed, I were really about to sufferdeath for the sake of the Catholic religion, and if I had never known ofthis project except by the means of sacramental confession, I mightperhaps be accounted worthy of the honour of martyrdom, and mightdeservedly be glorified in the opinion of the Church. As it is, Iacknowledge myself to have sinned in this respects and deny not thejustice of the sentence passed upon me." Then, after a moment's pause,he added with apparent earnestness, "Would to God that I could recallthat which has been done! Would to God that anything had happenedrather than that this stain of treason should hang upon my name! I knowthat my offence is most grievous, though I have confidence in Christ topardon me on my hearty penitence: but I would give the whole world, if Ipossessed it, to be able to die without the weight of this sin upon mysoul."

  The 1st of May had been originally fixed for the execution, but it wasdelayed until the 3rd. To the last moment, when he received notice ofit, which was on the 29th of April, Garnet fully expected a reprieve.He "could hardly be persuaded to believe" in approaching death. Yeteven then, on the very night before his execution--if we may believe thetestimon
y of his keepers--he drank so copiously that the gaoler thoughtit necessary to inform the Lieutenant, who came to see for himself, andwas invited, in thick and incoherent accents, to join Garnet in hispotations. Sir William Wade was not the man to allow such a fact torest in silence; and Garnet is neither the first nor the last whosewords have been better than his actions.

  On the 3rd of May, he was drawn on a hurdle to the west end of SaintPaul's Churchyard, where the first conspirators had suffered, and wherethe scaffold was again set up. His conduct on the scaffold wascertainly not that of a martyr, nor that of a penitent thief: theimpenitent thief appeared rather to be his model. Advised by theattendant Deans of Saint Paul's and Winchester to "prepare and settlehimself for another world, and to commence his reconciliation with Godby a sincere and saving repentance," Garnet answered that he had alreadydone so. He showed himself very unwilling to address the people; butbeing strongly urged by the Recorder, he uttered a few sentences, thepurport of which was that he considered all treason detestable; that heprayed the King's pardon for not revealing that of which he had ageneral knowledge from Catesby, but not otherwise; that he never knewanything of the design of blowing up the Parliament House. The Dean ofWinchester reminded him that he had confessed that Greenway told him allthe circumstances in Essex. "That was in secret confession," saidGarnet, "which I could by no means reveal." The Dean having remindedhim that he had already allowed the contrary, the Recorder was about toread his written confessions to the people--a course commanded by theKing if Garnet should deny his guilt upon the scaffold: but Garnetstopped this conviction from his own mouth, by telling the Recorder thathe might spare himself that trouble; he would stand to the confessionshe had signed, and acknowledge himself justly condemned for not havingdeclared his general knowledge of the plot. He then spoke of Anne Vaux,and denounced as slander all the injurious reports concerning hisrelations with her: then he asked what time would be permitted him forprayer. He was told that he should choose his own time, and should notbe interrupted. Kneeling down at the foot of the ladder, Garnetproceeded to his devotions in such a manner as to show that they were tohim the purest formalities: as the words fell from his lips, he wasgazing at the crowd, listening to the attendants, sometimes evenreplying to remarks they made. When he rose from his knees, he wasurged once more to confess his guilt in plain terms. He answered thathe had no more to confess; his guilt had been exaggerated. As heundressed for execution, he said in a low voice to those nearest to him,"There is no salvation for you, unless you hold the Catholic faith."Their reply was that they were under the impression they did hold it."But the only Catholic faith," responded Garnet, "is that professed bythe Church of Rome." Having ascended the ladder, he addressed thepeople. He expressed in these closing words his grief that he hadoffended the King, and that he had not used more diligence in preventingthe execution of the plot; he was sorry that he had dissembled with theLords of the Council, and that he did not declare the truth until it wasproved against him: "but," he said, "I did not think they had such sureproofs against me"! He besought all men "not to allow the Catholics tofare worse for his sake," and bade the latter keep out of sedition.Then he crossed himself, and added--"Jesus Maria! Mary, mother ofgrace, mother of mercy! Save me from mine enemies, and receive me inthe hour of death. In Thine hands I commend my spirit: Thou hastredeemed me, O Lord God of truth!" Crossing himself once more, headded--always in Latin--"By this sign of the cross, may all evil thingsbe dispersed. Plant Thy cross, Lord, in mine heart!" But his lastwords were, "Jesus Maria! Mary, mother of grace!" Then the ladder wasdrawn away, and Henry Garnet, the conspirator and liar, stood beforethat Lord God of truth who will by no means clear the guilty. Byexpress command of the King, the after-horrors of a traitor's death wereomitted.

  Three months after that sad close of life, the Tower gates openedagain--this time to release a prisoner. The Hon. Anne Vaux was biddento go whither she would. Whither she would!--what a mockery to her towhom all the earth and the heavens had been made one vaulted grave--whohad no home left anywhere in the world, for her home had been in theheart of that dead man. To what part of that great wilderness of earthshe carried her bitter grief and her name of scorn, no record has beenleft to tell us, except one.

  Thirty years later, in 1635, a Jesuit school for "Catholic youths of thenobility and gentry" was dispersed by authority. It was at Stanley, asmall hamlet about six miles to the north-east of Derby, a shortdistance from the Nottingham road. The house was known as StanleyGrange, and it was the residence of the Hon. Anne Vaux.

  So she passes out of our sight, old and full of days, true to the end tothe faith for which she had so sorely suffered, and to the memory of thefriend whom she had loved too well.

  "O solitary love that was so strong!"

  Let us leave her to the mercy of Him who died for men, and who only canpresume to sit in judgment on that faithful, passionate, broken heart.

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  Note 1. This word is plainly _sin_, though Mr Lemon in his copy triedto read it _him_--an interpretation which he was obliged to abandon.