Much time had been lost on the Thursday afternoon, in going hither and
thither, on either side of the route, in the vain hope of persuading the
Catholic knights and squires, who lived in the neighbourhood, to join
the insurgents; even after dark Digby and his allies continued these
fruitless endeavours, in defiance of the band of horsemen that was
dogging their footsteps at some distance in the rear; and it was nearly
ten o'clock at night[318] before the rapidly diminishing and draggled
party reached its destination at Holbeche House, the home of Stephen
Littleton.
[318] S. P. Gunpowder Treason, Part I. n. 108; Exam. of Wm. Ellis,
20 Nov. 1605.
Holbeche was a large and handsome Elizabethan mansion[319] standing a
little way over the South Border of Staffordshire; about four miles to
the north of Stourbridge, and a trifle less to the West of Dudley, on
what are now the outskirts of the great coal and iron district known as
the "black country." It was a relief to find a resting-place of any
sort; and, if the sensations of the conspirators and their followers had
much in common with wild beasts tracked to their lairs, or foxes run to
ground, they were, at any rate, within walls which would afford them a
temporary protection, and enable them to take a little of the rest and
refreshment which they now so much required.
[319] Jardine's G.P., p. 70.
They had not, however, much leisure for repose. They may have learned
that the ominous band of horsemen, which had persistently shadowed their
progress, had consisted of Sir Richard Walsh, the Sheriff of
Worcestershire, a number of country gentlemen who had rallied to his
assistance, and a _posse comitatus_. Although no enemy was any longer in
sight, they knew that their position had been ascertained, that spies
were probably on the watch for any attempted movement on their part, and
that they were to all intents and purposes besieged. Worn out as they
were with fatigue and anxiety, they set to work, therefore, to prepare
the house to withstand an assault,[320] and spent most of the night thus
occupied; so they cannot have had much sleep.
[320] Jardine, p. 114.
At last Sir Everard Digby had completely lost heart. Worse still, he
felt that he had been deceived. "He began to suspect that" the stories
which Catesby and Percy had told him of the assistance which Talbot and
the Littletons would bring, were not so much mistakes as untruths
"devised to engage him in theyr desperate cases."[321] During the night
he still cherished the hope that some strong forces might come to their
aid, a hope which he would hardly have entertained unless it had been
encouraged by Catesby and the other conspirators; but when the day began
to dawn and it was evident there were no "succors coming thyther," he
"discryed the falshood of it."
[321] S. P. Dom. James I., Nov. 1605, Vol. 16. n. 94.
Whether he informed Catesby of his determination to throw up the whole
undertaking does not appear. He may have made the excuse of going away
to try to raise men for their help, or of ascertaining whether there
were any symptoms of an approaching attack from without. To proclaim
himself a deserter from the cause to Catesby would have been to risk a
dangerous interview, in which the clinking of swords or the crack of a
pistol would be likely to be heard above the interchange of bitter
words; and judging from Catesby's and Winter's intentions in a certain
interview with Tresham, it was more than possible that a sudden stab
with a dagger might have given a practical demonstration of Catesby's
opinion of renegades.
"About daie light,"[322] on the Friday morning, he sent his page,
William Ellis, and another of his servants, named Michael Rapior, on
before him, and presently followed them, accompanied by the rest of his
men, with the deliberate intention "to have yealded him self," and I
cannot but suspect that he did so without telling Catesby.
[322] S. P. Gunpowder Treason, 1605, I. n. 108; W. Ellis.
He overtook Ellis and Rapior within a mile of Holbeche, and, telling
his servants how desperate he believed their case to be, he made them
all a present of their horses and whatever money belonging to him they
happened to have upon them; he then freed them from his service and
advised them to make their escape as best they could.[323] William Ellis
and one other, however, "said they would never leave him, but against
their will." Sir Everard made up his mind to go to "Sir Foulk Greville"
and surrender himself, and he began to ask everybody whom he met on the
road the way to his house.[324] As Sir Fulke Greville[325] had already
obtained Warwick Castle, and was probably living there, Sir Everard must
have expected to have a long ride before him.
[323] _Narrative of the G. P._, Gerard, p. 110. See also an account
of the money Sir E. D. had taken with him; _ib._, p. 92,--"above
L1000 in ready coin, as his servants since have averred, that did
escape, and one of them delivered up great part of the money to the
king's officers so soon as he saw his master had fallen into the
lapse."
[324] Exam. of Sir E. D.
[325] "Sir Fulke Greville, a man of letters, and a distinguished
courtier in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I., who, at the
coronation of the latter prince, was made a Knight of the Bath, and
soon after was called from being Treasurer of the Navy to be
Chancellor of the Exchequer, and was sworn of the privy council. In
the 2nd of King James's reign he obtained a grant of Warwick Castle
and other dependencies about it, and was elevated to the peerage, 29
Jan. 1620-1, by the title of Lord Brooke, &c." _Burke's Peerage_,
1886, p. 1390. Sir Fulke Greville is represented by the present Earl
of Warwick.
The three horsemen had been observed by some of the scouts who had been
watching Holbeche House, and they gave the alarm to the body of men
which had collected for the purpose of either attacking or hunting down
the conspirators; the consequence was that Sir Everard, his page, and
his servant had not proceeded more than a few miles when they heard
shouts in the distance behind them, and on looking round, perceived that
they were being pursued by that motley, but much dreaded, force known as
the "hue and cry."
To say nothing of the indignity of being captured by a yelling mob, it
would be infinitely more dangerous than a voluntary submission to some
recognised authority; for this reason, Digby, with his two attendants,
tried to escape, and, as they were riding three excellent horses, they
had great hopes of succeeding in doing so.
Nor were these hopes altogether groundless; for, when they began to
gallop, they soon widened the distance between themselves and their
pursuers; but they observed that the peasants and wayfarers whom they
passed turned round to stare at them, which showed that their route
would be pointed out to the "hue-and-cry." As Father Gerard says, "it
was not possible for them to pass or go unknown, especially Sir Everard
Digby, being so noted a man for his stature and personage, and withal so
well appointed as he was."[326] He thought it wisest, therefore, to go
into a large wood, and to hide there until the "hue-and-cry" should have
passed. In this fortune favoured them, for, on turning along a bye-path
from the main track in the wood, they saw a dry pit, and down into this
they rode.
[326] _Narrative of the G. P._, p. 110.
They had not been very long concealed in it when they heard the distant
thud of galloping horses, and every now and then the shouting of their
riders. Nearer and nearer came the sounds, and, just as they grew
loudest, to his great delight Digby heard them beginning to decrease in
force, which showed that the galloping mob had passed his retreat and
was going on an objectless errand.
Presently the sounds ceased altogether, and Sir Everard and his two
companions were on the point of emerging from their ambush, when they
fancied they heard the footsteps of two horses proceeding at a walk. A
voice confirmed them in this opinion. Once more there was silence, and
once again there were sounds of horses' feet and men's voices.
Suddenly a cry of "Here he is; here he is!"[327] showed that they were
discovered. The baffled hunters had turned back to try to trace the
hoof-marks of the fugitives' horses on either side of the rough roadway
through the wood, and the wet, muddy weather had enabled them to succeed
in this attempt. In that moment of extreme peril, Sir Everard showed
plenty of courage. "Here he is, indeed!" said he; "what then?"
[327] _Narrative of the G. P._, p. 111.
Looking up, he saw about ten or twelve horsemen standing about the
entrance to the pit; and believing that the main body of the
"hue-and-cry" were scattered about the wood searching in different
directions, he hoped to be able to force his way through the small
group which he saw above; accordingly he "advanced his horse in the
manner of curvetting (which he was expert in) and thought to have borne
them over, and so to break from them."
As the event proved, they were quite unprepared for the shock of his
charge, and, thrown into confusion, they were unable to prevent him from
forcing his way safely through their midst; but as soon as he had done
so, he found himself surrounded by more than a hundred horsemen,
trotting up from different directions. Perceiving that escape was now
impossible, he "willingly yielded himself to the likeliest man of the
company," and was immediately made a prisoner.
Would it have been more becoming to have sold his life dearly and to
have died on the field by shot, pike, or sword, than to have surrendered
to that ill-mounted, ill-armed, and irregular band of squireens, yeomen,
and tradesmen, with the certainty of the disgraceful gallows and the
quartering hatchet before him? The reasons for his acting otherwise,
given by Father Gerard, are at least logical. He had a desire, he
says,[328] "to have some time before his death for his better
preparation, and withal" he hoped "to have done some service to the
Catholic cause by word, sith he saw he could not do it by the sword."
[328] P. 111.
I have been unable to find any details as to what befel Sir Everard
between his arrest and his long, wearying, and humiliating ride of
nearly a hundred and twenty miles to London. Bound a prisoner on his
horse, and guarded by armed men on all sides, he would be an object of
curiosity and derision in every town, village, and hamlet through which
he passed. He would be taken through Warwickshire, which had been the
scene of his fruitless attempt to raise an insurrection during the two
previous days; probably, through many places well known in happier times
in Northamptonshire; through yet more familiar localities in
Buckinghamshire, where he had hitherto been hailed with raised hats and
genial smiles; and even, perhaps, within a few miles of his beloved
Gothurst itself. When he entered Middlesex, the nearer he came to
London, the greater would be the angry demonstrations of hostility on
the part of the crowds that turned out to see the traitor and
conspirator as he was conducted towards the Tower to take his trial for
high treason. There may have been a few sympathisers among the mob, such
as the man who was heard to whisper that "It had been brave sport, yf it
had gone forward";[329] but such remarks would not be made loud enough
to reach the ears of Digby.
[329] S. P. Dom. James I., Vol. xvi. n. 29, 1.
The shame of that journey must have been intense to a man constituted
like Sir Everard, and it may have been increased by the reflection that
he had forsaken his friends, with the intention of surrendering himself;
and that, although they had certainly deceived him, he was in some sense
a deserter from their ranks, at the moment of their extremity, as well
as a traitor to his king.
Unquestionably his greatest sorrow of all was to think of his wife and
children at Coughton. The unfortunate Lady Digby had sent a servant,
named James Garvey,[330] "in search of his master, when he was
apprehended"; for "Sir Everard had horses at Coughton." Although she
would doubtless think it a comparatively minor matter, the rude fact was
soon forced upon her that, if her husband were attainted of high
treason, all his estates would be confiscated, and she presently learned
that the lawyers were already wrangling over the technical question
whether her own property at Gothurst, which was settled on Sir Everard
and his children, would not have to go too. The Crown lawyers claimed
that it would, and they issued a notice that no part of it, or its
revenues, must be touched by Lady Digby, or anyone else, until after her
husband's trial. She was, therefore, immediately placed in a position of
pecuniary embarrassment and want.
[330] Cal. Sta. Pa. Dom., 1603-10, p. 248.
Although it is an oft-told tale, and does not directly concern the
subject of my biography, my story might seem incomplete if I were to say
nothing of those whom Sir Everard had left behind him, when he rode
away from Holbeche.
According to Jardine, two of the company at Holbeche, besides Sir
Everard, deserted that house on the Friday morning. One was the host,
Stephen Littleton. It should be remembered that he had not been a sworn
conspirator in the Gunpowder Plot, and that it would seem hard that he
should bear the penalty of sheltering his friends who had been concerned
in it. As a matter of fact, this was exactly what he had to do; for he
was executed for this very offence and, curiously enough, another too
good-natured man, of the name of Perkises, was executed in his turn for
sheltering him. The other fugitive was Robert Winter, who was afterwards
captured and executed.
Sir Everard and his men had not long left Holbeche, when Catesby,
Rookwood, and Grant endeavoured to dry some of the gunpowder from
Whewell, which had got "dank" in the open cart on its journey the
previous afternoon, upon a platter over a large fire. As might have been
expected, it ignited and exploded, severely burning several of them.
Even Catesby now lost heart, expressed his fears that God disapproved of
their proceedings,[331] and said that here he meant to remain and die.
The other conspirators said they would do the same, and they seem now,
for the first time, to some extent, to have realised the enormity of
their sin. They perceived "God to be against them; all prayed before the
picture of Our Lady, and confessed that the act was so bloody as they
desired God to forgive them." Then, says Father Gerard,[332] "They all
fell earnestly to their prayers, the Litanies and such like (as some of
the company affirmed that escaped taking, being none of the
conspirators, but such as joined with them in the country); they also
spent an hour in meditation." It is satisfactory to know that they
showed some contrition for their terrible iniquity and tried to make
their peace with God; and, being Catholics, they would know what to do
to this end.
[331] Stephen Littleton's Confession--Rookwood's
Examination--Jardine, p. 115.
[332] _Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot_, p. 109.
At eleven o'clock, the High Sheriff appeared with a large force and
surrounded the house. Thomas Winter went out into the court-yard and was
shot in the shoulder by an arrow from a cross-bow, just as Catesby, who
followed him, exclaimed, "Stand by me, Tom, and we will die together."
The two brothers, John and Christopher Wright, followed him, and both
were mortally wounded. Rookwood, who had been severely burned by the
explosion of gunpowder, was shot through the arm by a bullet from a
musket and wounded in the body by a pike. Catesby and Percy stood back
to back and were both shot through the body. Catesby died shortly
afterwards in the house, after declaring "that the plot and practice of
this treason was only his, and that all others were but his assistants,
chosen by himself to that purpose, and that the honour thereof belonged
only to himself." Percy died the next day.
As soon as Catesby and Percy had fallen, the attacking party rushed into
the court-yard, overpowered the feeble resistance offered to them, and
made prisoners of the whole party.
The besiegers of Holbeche House were little more orderly than the hue
and cry which had chased Sir Everard Digby. Sir Thos. Lawley, who was
assisting the Sheriff of Worcestershire, wrote afterward to
Salisbury[333]:--"I hasted to revive Catesby and Percy and the two
Wrights, who lay deadly wounded on the ground, thinking by the recovery
of them to have done unto his Majesty better service than by suffering
them to die. But such was the extreme disorder of the baser sort, that
while I with my men took up one of the languishing traitors, the rude
people stripped the rest naked; and their wounds being many and
grievous, and no surgeon at hand, they became incurable and so died."
[333] Additional MSS., British Museum, No. 617, p. 565.
In a very short time, Sir Everard Digby, Rookwood, Thomas Winter, John
Grant, Robert Keyes, Francis and Tresham were all safely lodged in the
Tower, besides the earliest conspirator arrested--Guy Fawkes.
One of the first things that Sir Everard did after being brought to
London was to beg as a special favour to be permitted to see the
king[334]--a boon most unlikely to be granted--"intending to lay down
the causes so plainly which had moved them to this attempt," namely the
Gunpowder Plot, "and withal how dangerous it was for His Majesty to take
the course he did, as that he hoped to persuade at least some
mitigation, if not toleration, for Catholics." Of course he was informed
that no such favour would be shown him; but that he would very shortly
be examined by the Lords of the Council, when an opportunity would be
given to him of making a statement.
[334] _Narrative of the G. P._, Gerard, p. 111.
The news of the popular indignation at the Gunpowder Plot must have
added greatly to Digby's sorrows. On Sunday, November 10th,[335] "a
solemn thanksgiving was offered in all the churches." He would hear,
too, that on the night of the very day that the explosion was to have
taken place, church-bells were ringing, and bonfires were blazing in all
directions as a testimony of the public rejoicing at the failure of the
plot.[336] Even[337] "the Spanish Ambassador made bonfires, and threw
money amongst the people."
[335] Gardiner's _Hist. Eng._, Vol. i. p. 266.
[336] S. P. Dom. James I., Vol. xvi. n. 23.
[337] Stow's _Annales_, p. 880.
More galling still was the ever-increasing evidence of the horror of the
English Catholics and their angry disclaimers of having had anything to
do with, or any sympathy for, such a nefarious scheme.
"If, after the discovery," says Tierney,[338] "the pope himself
abstained from issuing a formal condemnation of the conspiracy,
Blackwell, at least, his delegate and representative in England,
instantly came forward to stigmatize it as a 'detestable device,' an
'intolerable, uncharitable, scandalous, and desperate fact.' No sooner
had the proclamation for the apprehension of the conspirators announced
the intelligence that Catholics were implicated in it, than he addressed
a letter to the clergy and laity of his flock (Nov. 7), reminding them
of the criminality of all forcible attempts against the government, and
exhorting them to manifest their respect for the decisions of the
church, the clergy by inculcating, the laity by practising, that patient
submission to the laws, which alone could 'please God, mollify man, and
increase their merits and their glory in the world to come.'" Reports of
this letter would be received by Sir Everard on his arrival in London.
[338] Notes to Dodds' _Church Hist. of Eng._, Vol. iv. p. 64.
The Archpriest's manifesto was most opportune; for about the time he was
writing it, Ben Jonson, the poet, who had been a Catholic for seven
years,[339] was writing to Salisbury that some say they must consult the
Archpriest; but that he, Ben Jonson, thinks[340] "they are all so
enweaved in it as it will make 500 gent. lesse of the religion within
this weeke." He also got up in the Council Chamber at Whitehall,[341]
denounced the plot on behalf of the Catholics of England, and offered
his services in hunting down the gang of miscreants that had brought
this discredit on his Church.
[339] Dixon's _Her Majesty's Tower_, Vol. ii. p. 191.
[340] S. P., James I., Dom., Vol. xvi. n. 30.
[341] Dixon's _Her Majesty's Tower_, Vol. ii. p. 191.
"Three weeks later," continues Tierney, the Archpriest "repeated his
admonition in still stronger terms. He reminded his people of his former
letter, assured them that 'no violent attempt against the king or his
government could be other than a most grievous and heinous offence to
God'; and concluded by declaring that, as the pope had already condemned
all such unlawful proceedings, so he, by the authority of the pope, now
strictly forbad Catholics, under pain of ecclesiastical censures, 'to
attempt any practise or action, tending to the prejudice' of the throne,
or to behave themselves in any manner but such 'as became dutiful
subjects and religious Catholics, to their king, his counsellors, and
officers.'"
With a copy of the first of these two letters[342] before me, I am
struck by one sentence which lays down a golden rule concerning
political plots. "Moreover, our divines do say that it is not lawful for
private subjects, by private authority, to take arms against their
lawful king, albeit he become a tyrant."
[342] See S. P. Dom. James I., Vol. xvi. n. 21.
How bitterly Sir Everard Digby felt the disapproval of the Catholics may
be judged from one of his letters to his wife, written in the
Tower.[343] "But now let me tell you, what a grief it hath been to me,
to hear that so much condemned which I did believe would have been
otherwise thought on by Catholicks; there is no other cause but this,
which hath made me desire life, for when I came into prison, death would
have been a welcome friend unto me, and was most desired; but when I
heard how Catholicks and Priests thought of the matter, and that it
should be a great sin that should be in the _Cause_ of my end, it called
my conscience in doubt of my very best actions and intentions in
question: for I knew that my self might easily be deceived in such a
business, therefore I protest unto you that the doubts I had of my own
good state, which only proceeded from the censure of others, caused more
bitterness of grief in me than all the miseries that ever I suffered,
and only this caused me wish life till I might meet with a ghostly
friend. For some good space I could do nothing, but with tears ask
pardon at God's hands for all my errors, both in actions and intentions
in this business, and in my whole life, which the censure of this,
contrary to my expectance, caused me to doubt; I did humbly beseech that
my death, might satisfie for my offence, which I should and shall offer
most gladly to the Giver of Life. I assure you as I hope in God that the
love of all my estate and worldly happiness did never trouble me, nor
the love of it since my imprisonment did ever move me to wish life. But
if that I may live to make satisfaction to God and the world, where I
have given any scandal, I shall not grieve if I should never look
Living Creature in the face again, and besides that deprivation endure
all worldly misery."[344]
[343] Letters of Sir E. D. (p. 170), No. 1.
[344] In the Tower, he wrote to his wife with lemon juice on slips
of paper as opportunity offered. These were kept as precious relics
by his family. See _Biographia Britannica_, Vol. iii. p. 1698.
Sir Everard was examined in the Tower several times; first, on two
successive days, November 19th and 20th, he was questioned at some
length, before Nottingham, Suffolk, Devonshire, Northampton, Salisbury,
Mar, Dunbar, and Coke. A good deal of his evidence has already been
quoted. On the first day, he only admitted that Catesby[345] "did
comfort him with future hopes and told him that he doubted not but there
would be a course effected for theyr good," and that it was not until
Tuesday, the 5th of November, that "Mr Catesbie acquainted him with the
practice of y{e} treason of y{e} blowing up the Parlam{t}. howse," when he
"gave him some inkling what had bin the plott of undermining the
Parlament howse, to blow it up; and on Wednesday told him more at large
&c," naming "who had bin the miners."
[345] S. P. Dom. James i., Vol. xvi. n. 94, 95.
On the following day, however, "he beinge shewed by the L{s} his follye
and faulte in denyinge that w{ch} was so manyfest and beinge toulde that
both Tho. Wynter had speach w{h} him of the pticulars, concerninge the
plot of the powder to blow upp the K. in the Parliament house, and being
confronted w{th} Mr Faucks who charged him to have discoursed w{th} him
thereof abowte a weeke before the 5th of November at his house in
Buck.shyer," he confessed more freely. Fawkes had been tortured,[346]
and most likely, when he charged Sir Everard in this way, he did it in
order to escape being tortured again. So many of the conspirators were
now known by the others to be in the Tower, and each was so much afraid
of what the others might have confessed, that they became terrified and
confessed freely when examined. Neither of them knew which of his
companions had been tortured in order to induce him to incriminate his
friends; and each feared that he might, at any moment, be himself laid
upon the rack.
[346] The King wrote:--"The gentler tortours are to be first usid
unto him, _et sic per gradus ad ima tenditur_, and so God speede
youre goode worke." S. P., James I., Dom., Vol. xvi. n. 17, Nov. 6.