Not long afterwards, about noon, the Sheriff and his troops surrounded
Holbeach House. After several ineffectual summonses to surrender, and
the reading of a proclamation in the King's name bidding the rebels to
submit themselves, which met only with blunt refusals, the Sheriff fired
the house, and led an attack upon the gates. The conspirators who were
left showed no lack of courage. They walked out into the court-yard,
set the gate open, and took up their stand in front of it, Catesby in
the middle, with Percy and Thomas Winter on either side. At the first
assault, an arrow from a cross-bow had struck Winter in the shoulder,
and rendered his right arm useless. The second shot struck John Wright,
the third Christopher Wright, the fourth Rookwood. The two Wrights
fell, and were supposed to be dead.
"Stand by me, Tom," said Catesby to Winter, "and we will die together."
"Sir," was the answer, "I have lost the use of my right arm, and I fear
that will cause _me_ to be taken."
They were the last words of Robert Catesby. The next bullet passed
clean through his body, and lodged in that of Percy at his side.
Catesby fell, mortally wounded. He had just strength to crawl on his
hands and knees into the vestibule of the house, where stood an image of
the Virgin: and clasping it in his arms, he died.
Percy sank down, also wounded to death; he expired the following day.
John Wright, recovering somewhat from his wound, called to Bates, and
delivered him a bag of money, entreating him to fly and take it to Mrs
Wright at Norbrook. Winter was seized; Grant, Rookwood, and Morgan,
yielded themselves to the Sheriff: but the exasperated mob, rushing in,
while the Sheriff's men were lifting one of the wounded, seized upon the
others, stripped and ill-used them, until wounds which might possibly
have been healed were past cure. John and Christopher Wright died in
two or three days.
One or two fugitives were brought into Holbeach later; five were
arrested at Stourbridge, Sir Everard Digby at Dudley. Bates succeeded
in making good his escape with the bag, and reached Wolverhampton in the
night. His wife Martha, who lived at Ashby, hearing a false rumour of
his capture and imprisonment in Shrewsbury Gaol, went to see him, and
both stayed for the night in the same inn at Wolverhampton, neither of
them knowing the nearness of the other. Bates, finding himself unable
to reach Lapworth, and with no hope of escaping finally, delivered the
bag of money to a friend to convey to Martha, and departed, not wishing
to endanger his friend. He then went to Oldfield, in Shropshire, to the
house of his cousin, Richard Bates, by whom having been betrayed, he was
apprehended, and brought to London. By his confession on his
examination, Garnet and Greenway were implicated, though Bates tried his
best to prove them innocent.
Sir Richard Walsh conveyed his prisoners to Worcester, where he occupied
himself in taking their examinations, and sending the information
obtained to the Lords of the Council. Sir Richard Verney was sent to
scour the country on the recent track of the fugitives, and to arrest
the relatives and servants of every one of them. John Winter, Gertrude
Winter at Huddington, Ludovic Grant at Dudley, Dorothy Grant at
Norbrook, and at Lapworth John Wright's wife Dorothy, and Christopher's
wife Margaret; Ambrose Rookwood's wife, and her sister; and Thomas
Rookwood of Claxton, at Bidford, were all gradually added to the group.
Mrs Dorothy Grant, whether from fright or loquacity, proved very candid
in answering questions, and from her they learned that the missing
Martha Percy was "not far off." Sir Richard Verney, however, found it
no easy matter to keep his prisoners when he had got them. Twice his
house was set on fire, evidently by design; but he held stoutly to the
lively ladies in his care, and delivered them all safely in London in
due time.
We must now, for a short time, follow the two conspirators who had
escaped in company, and whose wanderings are not devoid of interest.
Robert Winter and Stephen Littleton got safely away from Holbeach, thus
evading the miserable fate of their fellow-conspirators. They succeeded
in reaching the house of a certain Christopher White, a servant of
Stephen's cousin, Humphrey Littleton, who lived in the village of King's
Rowley. This man they bribed to allow them to remain in his barn until
the search for the fugitives should have ceased, when they promised to
give him a substantial reward, and no longer to endanger him by their
presence. "There they abode a great while, but with very poor and
slender fare, such as otherwise had been too coarse and out of fashion
for them." A proclamation was meanwhile set forth by Government for
their discovery, wherein Robert Winter was described as "of mean
stature, rather low than otherwise; brown hair and beard, not much
beard, short hair; somewhat stooping, square made, near forty." Stephen
Littleton was "a very tall man; swarthy complexion, no beard or little,
brown coloured hair; about thirty." A neighbour of White's, named
Smart, and apparently smart by nature as well as name, noticed the
unusual evidences of prosperity in his neighbour's dwelling, and
shrewdly surmised the reason. Upon due consideration of the subject,
Mr Smart, like a good many people both before and after him, came to
the conclusion that it was highly unreasonable that his neighbour should
be mounting the social ladder when he remained at the bottom. He
therefore applied himself to the matter, discovered the refugees in the
barn, and strongly recommended his barn as far preferable to White's.
The fugitives were persuaded to change their hiding-place. This was no
sooner done, than another neighbour, named Hollyhead, set his wits also
to work, and dulcetly represented that Smart's barn was a much less safe
and attractive locality than his house: each of these worthy individuals
being of course moved by respect to the pecuniary reward for which he
hoped. On the departure of his guests, White took fright and fled:
which caused "much rumour to be blabbed abroad" concerning the vain
search and the probable vicinity of the fugitives. Humphrey Littleton,
who was in the secret, began to be alarmed, and removed his friends from
Hollyhead's house to that of a man named John Perks, in the village of
Hagley, close to Hagley Park, the residence of his widowed
sister-in-law. It was before dawn on New Year's Day that they reached
the cottage of Perks, a warrener or gamekeeper, who had been dismissed
from Mrs Littleton's service for dishonesty. The wearied men knocked
at his door; and when Perks came forth, said they were friends, and
begged him to help them to food and shelter.
"Ye be Mr Stephen Littleton, and Mr Winter," said Perks.
"We are so," they admitted. "Pray you, Goodman, grant us meat and
lodging till we be fit for journeying; and when we can travel, then
shall you bring us to London, and have a great reward from the King for
taking us, we being willing to die, and not live any longer in so
miserable a condition."
If Mr Perks's eyes glistened as this distant prospect of a great reward
was held out to him, they grew yet more radiant when Humphrey Littleton
counted into his hand thirty golden sovereigns, twenty into that of his
man, and seventeen to his sister. Perks led the way to his barn, where
mounting on a barley mow, he formed a large hole in its midst, and here
the unhappy gentlemen were secreted, food being brought to them by Perks
as occasion served, by his sister Margaret, or at times by his man,
Thomas Burford. Here they might have remained in safety for a
considerable time without fear of discovery, had not Mr Perks
entertained rather too close an affection for barley in another form
than heaped up in a barn--namely, in company with hops and water. Mr
Perks had a friend, named Poynter, who liked beer and rabbits quite as
well as himself; and one winter night, nine days after the fugitives had
been hidden in the mow, these worthies set forth on a poaching
expedition. Returning home somewhat late, and "well tippled in drink,"
it occurred to Mr Poynter that it would save him a walk home if his
friend Perks were to lodge him for the night. The latter, however, did
not see the circumstance in that light, and a tipsy altercation
followed, which was ended by Perks "shaking off" Poynter, and staggering
home by himself. The night was cold and wet, and Mr Poynter's temper
was scarcely so cool as the atmosphere. He was tipsily resolved that he
would have a lodging at Perks's expense, whether that gentleman would or
not; and bethinking himself that if Perks's house were locked against
him, his barn was not, he took thither his unsteady way, and scrambling
up the barley mow, to his own unfeigned astonishment dropped into the
hole on the top of the sleeping conspirators.
Thus roused suddenly in the dead of night, and naturally concluding that
their enemies were upon them, Winter and Littleton sprang up to defend
themselves, and to sell their lives dearly. Poynter, who was quite as
much amazed and terrified as they could be, as naturally fought for his
own safety, and a desperate struggle ensued. It ended in the two
overcoming the one, and insisting on his remaining with them, so that
they could be certain of his telling no tales. For four days Poynter
remained on the mow, professing resignation and contentment, and
lamenting the sore pain which he suffered from a wound in the leg,
received in the pursuit of his vocation as a rabbit-stealer. When
Margaret Perks came with food, and afterwards Burford, Poynter pretended
to be in mortal anguish, and besought them earnestly to bring him some
salve, without which he was quite certain he should die. The salve was
brought, and the wily Poynter then discovered that lying in the hole he
had not sufficient light to apply it. He was suffered to creep up on
the top of the mow, which he professed to do with the greatest
difficulty. But even there the light was scarcely sufficient: might he
drag himself a little nearer the door? Being now quite deceived by Mr
Poynter's excellent acting, and believing that he was much too suffering
and disabled to escape, they permitted him to crawl quite to the edge of
the mow nearest to the light, and of course next to the door. The
moment this point was reached, the disabled cripple slipped down from
the mow, and the next instant was out of the door and far away, running
with a fleetness which made it hopeless to think of following him.
There was still, however, some room for that hope which springs eternal
in the human breast. Poynter's friendship for Perks, and the
expectation that Perks could bribe him to secrecy, weighed with the
fugitives, who had not sufficiently learned that the friendship of an
unprincipled man is worth nothing.
Poynter, on the other hand, considered his chances superior in the
opposite direction. He made at once for Hagley Hall, intending to tell
his story there; but on the way he met with Perks, who was ignorant of
Poynter's recent adventure; and that gentleman suggesting a joint visit
to the nearest tavern, Poynter easily suffered his steps to be diverted
in that attractive direction. The precious pair of friends drank
together, and departed to their respective homes.
Now, Mistress Littleton, the lady of Hagley Park, was a Protestant, and
a gentlewoman of extreme discretion; and the day on which Poynter thus
made his escape from the hay-mow had been chosen by her to commence a
journey to London. Before her departure, she summoned her steward, Mr
Hazelwood, and desired him to be circumspect during her absence, "owing
to the mischances happening in the county."
Mistress Littleton having ridden forth on her journey, her worthy
brother, Mr Humphrey, commonly called Red Humphrey, who certainly did
not share the discretion of his sister, determined to play the mouse
during the absence of his cat, and to convey his traitor-friends into
his own chamber at Hagley Park. There is reason to think that Mistress
Littleton was not only a sagacious but also a somewhat managing dame,
who rode Red Humphrey with a tighter curb than that reckless individual
approved. Accordingly, having heard of Poynter's escape, and taking one
person only into his confidence, he repaired to the barn about eleven
o'clock that night, and smuggled his cousin and friend away from the
barley mow into the pleasanter shelter of his own room in Hagley Park.
The one person thus selected as Humphrey's confidant, was John Fynwood
or Fynes, alias "Jobber," also known as John Cook, from the office which
he bore in the household. Humphrey had brought him up, and when come to
suitable age, had induced his sister-in-law to engage him as cook: he
therefore expected this man, being thus beholden to him, to remain
faithful to his interests. But there was another person whose interests
were considerably dearer to John Cook, and that was himself.
The trio reached Master Humphrey's chamber in safety, aided by John
Cook. Robert Winter turned round as he entered, and grasped the cook's
hand.
"Ah, Jack!" said he, "little wots thy mistress what guests are now in
her house, that in so long a space did never so much as look upon a
fire!"
"Welcome, heartily!" answered Humphrey, motioning to his guests to
approach nearer to the cheerful hearth. "Jack, lad, the time being thus
late, canst kill some hen or chickens about the house, to serve and fit
the present occasion withal? I will recompense it to thee afterward."
Jack readily undertook the commission, and brought up a very appetising
dish with great diligence and promptness.
"Master," said he, "you shall need drink, and the butler is in bed; to
call on him for the key might rouse suspicion. Pray you, shall I run in
the town to my mother, and fetch you drink from thence?"
"So do, honest Jack, and hie thee back quickly. See, here is a tester
for thee."
Honest Jack picked up the tester, and disappeared.
It does seem strange, considering the danger which was thus run, that
the fugitives should not have been satisfied to drink water with their
supper, since even thus they would have fared much better than they had
done for some time past. But in truth, the very idea of drinking water
was foreign to men's minds in those days, except in the light of a very
cruel hardship, and about the last strait to which a starving man could
be reduced.
The mother of Jack kept a small tavern in the village. Thither he ran
to fill his jug, and to pour into the ears of the hostess the
interesting fact that the traitors then sought for by the King's
proclamation were at that moment entertained in Master Humphrey's
chamber at Hagley Park.
"Pray you, Mother," he added, "when morning breaketh, raise the town to
take them, for I fear lest I may not, unsuspected, get forth again to do
it."
Having made which little arrangement, honest Jack and his jug returned
to the Park, where the trio of traitors finished their supper, and
proceeded to sleep three in a bed.
To make assurance doubly sure, Jack rapped at Mr Hazelwood's door, and
bestowed upon him the same interesting information already given to Mrs
Fynwood.
The morning being come, the cook paid another visit to his prisoners,
whom he found nearly dressed, and looking out of the window to see the
meaning of the noise they heard, which was in fact the arrival of the
Sheriff's officer and his men. Even then, so complete was their
confidence in Jack, that they never imagined themselves betrayed, and
Humphrey, having stowed his friends for more complete security in a
closet-room opening out of his chamber, went down into the hall--and met
the officer of the law.
"Sir, I understand there be in this house certain traitors, so charged
by proclamation of his sacred Majesty, whom you have in keeping."
"Never an one, my master, I do ensure you," answered Humphrey, as
lightly as if he spoke the truth: and he cut a large slice from the loaf
standing on the table. "Pray you, sit down and break your fast; you are
full welcome, as I am sure my good sister should tell you were she at
home. After that ye have eaten, ye shall search the house an' ye
will.--See here, Jack Cook! make a good toast for these worthy masters;
and thou, David Butler, go up to my chamber for my cup--thou shalt find
it on the window-ledge, I think."
Outside, Mr Hazelwood was giving directions for the search, hints being
constantly supplied to him by the cook as to what transpired within.
The butler, David Bate, went to fetch his master's cup, and of course
found the room empty. As he came to the foot of the back-stair, Master
Humphrey met him.
"Good David, help me to the key of the back-door into the cellar," he
said in a hurried whisper. "As ever thou wilt do anything for me, stick
now to me, and help save my life."
"Sir, I have not the key," answered the astonished butler. "The brewer
hath it."
The brewer was hastily summoned, delivered the key, and was as hurriedly
dismissed. Then Humphrey ran up to his closet, brought down his
concealed guests, and conducted them through the buttery towards the
cellar. The butler slipped away from them, and told the officers. The
situation was now desperate. Inside the house the officers were
pursuing them; outside, a crowd, in league with the authorities, was
shouting itself hoarse in execration of them. The wretched men made one
last frantic dash around the house, and Robert Winter and Stephen
Littleton were arrested in the stable-yard, and prevented from reaching
the neighbouring wood.
But what had become of Red Humphrey? The instant he saw the game was
up, he hurriedly mounted his horse, and eluded his pursuers. But he was
not to escape much longer. The searching party which Poynter had led to
the barn, disappointed there, scoured the neighbourhood; and at
Prestwood the fugitive was taken, and committed to safe custody in
Stafford Gaol. Even after they were secured, it was no easy matter to
carry the other prisoners to Worcester. While they were "refreshing
themselves" in an alehouse at Hagley--probably the tavern kept by Mrs
Fynwood--a tumult arose among the people outside which almost led to
their rescue; and a few miles from Hagley, Sir Thomas Undirhood and his
company overtook the Sheriff, and vainly attempted to gain possession of
them to take them back to Staffordshire. The Worcestershire men,
however, held on grimly to their prize, and at last triumphantly lodged
their prisoners in the gaol at Worcester.
The examinations of the culprits in London went on. They were mainly
characterised by Mr Fawkes's contradictions on every occasion of
something which he had previously said; by the addition of a little
information each time; and by the very small amount of light that could
be obtained from any outsiders. On his third examination, Mr "John
Johnson" owned that his name was Guy Fawkes; that he was born at York,
the son of Edward Fawkes, a younger brother, who had left him "but small
living," which he ran through with equally small delay. He denied on
his conscience that he was in orders, "major or minor, regular or
secular": on which occasion he told the truth. Fawkes added that he did
not now desire to destroy the King.
"It is past," he said, "and I am now sorry for it, for that I now
perceive that God did not concur with it."
He admitted also the design on the Lady Elizabeth, but he still declined
to name his accomplices, and proved obdurate to all attempts--and the
attempts were basely made--to persuade him to accuse the prisoners in
the Tower, of whom the chief was Sir Walter Raleigh. The utmost he
could be induced to admit concerning this point was that it had been
"under consultation that the prisoners in the Tower should have
intelligence" of the intended plot, and that Raleigh and several others
had been named in this connection.
"We should have been glad to have drawn any, of what religion soever,
unto us," he said: "we meant to have made use of all the discontented
people of England."
But he would not allow, even to the last, that any communication had
actually been made.
In his fourth examination Fawkes gave the names of those who had been
"made privy afterwards," but he still refused to reveal those of the
original traitors. He was accordingly put to the torture. Gentle or
ungentle, this worked its office: and on the ninth of November, after
half-an-hour on the rack, Fawkes recounted the names of all his
accomplices. He made also an admission which proved of considerable
importance--he mentioned a house in Enfield Chase, "where Walley
[Garnet] doth lie."
Every examination is signed by the prisoner. To the first he signs
"Guido Faukes" in a free, elegant Italian hand, the hand of an educated
man. But it is pitiful to see the few faint strokes which sign the
fifth, even the "Guido" being left unfinished. He is supposed to have
fainted before the word could be written. The subsequent reports are
fully signed, and in a firmer hand; but the old free elegant signature
never comes again.
That night an unheard-of event occurred at the White Bear. Hans
Floriszoon was two hours late in coming home.
"My lad!" said Edith, meeting him in the hall, "we feared some ill had
befallen thee."
"It hath not befallen _me_, Mrs Edith," was the answer; "and may God
avert it from us all! But these men that Aubrey was wont to visit--Mr
Catesby, Mr Winter, and the rest--are now confessed by the caitiff in
the Tower to have an hand in the plot."
"Aubrey?" The word was only just breathed from Edith's lips.
"I went thither at once, and spake with Aubrey, whom I found to have
heard nought, and to be very sore troubled touching Mr Winter, whose
friendship I can see hath been right dear unto him. I besought him to
lie very close,--not to come forth at all, and if he would communicate
with us these next few days, to send a messenger to me at Mr Leigh's,
and not here, for it seemed to me there was need of caution. After a
time, if all blow over, there may be less need. Will you tell my Lady
Lettice, or no?"
"Dear Hans, thou art ever thoughtful and good. Thou hast done very
well. But I think my mother must be told. Better softly now, than
roughly after--as it may be if it be let alone."
Lady Louvaine sat silent for a few minutes after that gentle
communication had been made. Then she said--
"`The floods lift up themselves, and rage mightily: but yet the Lord,
who dwelleth on high, is mightier.' 'Tis strange that it should be so
much harder to trust Him with the body than with the soul! O father,
keep my boy from evil!--what is evil, Thou knowest: `undertake for us!'"
On the 23rd of November, one of the prisoners in the Tower escaped the
sentence of the law, by an inevitable summons to the higher tribunal of
God Almighty. Francis Tresham died in his prison cell, retracting with
his last breath, and "upon his salvation," the previous confession by
which he had implicated Garnet in the Spanish negotiations. It has been
suggested that he was poisoned by Government because he knew too much;
but there is no foundation for the charge except the possibility that
his death might have been convenient to the Government, and the fact
that they allowed his wife and servant to be with him in his last
illness goes far to disprove this improbable accusation.
The authorities were now engaged in lively pursuit of the new track
which Fawkes had indicated to them. A house in Enfield Chase where
Garnet was or might be found, was too appetising a dainty to be lightly
resigned. On the 23rd, they obtained a full confession from Thomas
Winter, and the actual name of White Webbs. From this moment White
Webbs became their Ultima Thule of hope and expectation.
A poor and mean revenge was taken on the dead Catesby and Percy. Their
bodies were exhumed, and beheaded, and their heads set on the pinnacles
of the Houses of Parliament. The spectators noticed with superstitious
terror that blood flowed from Percy's wound. The authorities seem to
have regarded Percy as the head and front of the conspiracy; they term
him "the arch-traitor." But by the testimony of both Fawkes and Winter,
Catesby was the original deviser of the Gunpowder Plot.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. Excerpts from Burghley Papers, Additional Manuscript 6178,
folios 58, 184.--Lady Northumberland was Dorothy Devereux, daughter of
Walter Earl of Essex and Lettice Knolles, and sister of the famous
Robert Earl of Essex, in whose rebellion so many Romanists took part.
Poor Lord Northumberland, if innocent, paid dearly for his relationship
to his "wretched cousin," being fined 30,000 pounds, which in 1613 was
commuted to 11,000 pounds. He borrowed 12,000 pounds from Peter Vanlore
to discharge the fine, and repaid half of it within a year.
Note 2. The most comical item of this assumption of virtue is the
reason, as given by himself, for Mr Rookwood's riding on in advance at
this juncture. "Seeing that he was so well horsed as he was--he having
fifteen or sixteen good bourses--he meant not to adventure himself in
stealing of any!"
Note 3. "At Holbeach, I demanded of Mr Percy and the rest, _being most
of them asleep_, what they meant to do." (Letter of John Winter,
Gunpowder Plot Book, article 110.)
Note 5. For this shot one of the Sheriff's men, named John Streete,
received 2 shillings per day up to 1627.