|Chapter Number||VOL II XI-(Continued)|
|Newspaper Title||The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld. : 1866 - 1939)|
|Trove Title||Her Majesty's Tower|
Her Majesty's Tower.*
BY WILLIAM HEPWORTH DIXON.
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 enminate wolde now be maid to ansoure to formall interrogatours. • *1 as quhat he is, for I can never yett heare of any man that knowis him. 11 2 quhaire he uas borne, "3 quhat uaire his parents names, " 4 quat aage is he of, " 5 quhaire he hath lined, "6 hou he hath lived and by quhat trade of Jjfe, "7 hou he ressaued those wondes in his breste, "8 if he uas eurin seruioe, uith any other before peroie, and quhat thay uaire, and hou long. " 9 hou came he in peroies seruioe, by quhat meanes, 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 deuUlishe preparations, "12 qunen and quhaire lermd ne to speake frenshe, " 18 quhat gentle womans lettir it uas that uas f ounde upon him, "14 and quhairfor doth she give him an other same in it then he gives to him self, "15 if he uas ever a papiste, and if so quho broeht him up in it,
" 16 if other wayea, how uas he oonuertid, quhaire, quhen, and by quhom, this course of his lyfe I ame the more desyrouse to know, because I nave dyuers motives leading me to suspecte that he hath remained long beyond* the seas, and ather is a preiate, or hath long seruid some prelate or fugitive abroad*, for I can yett (as I aaide in the beginning heirof) meite with no man that knowis him, the letter found upon him glues him another name, and those that best knowis his meister can never remember to have scene him in his comptuiie, quhair upon it ?seme that he hath bene reoommendit by some personnis to bis matters servioe only for this use, qubairin only, he hath servid him, and thairfore he uolde also be asked in quhat oom pany and shippe he went out of englande, and theporte he shipped at, and the like quotations wolde be asked anent the forme of his returne, as for these tromperie waires found upon him, the signification and use of curie one of thaime wolde be knowin, and quat I have obseruid in thaim, the bearare will show you, nou laste, ye remember of the crewallle uillanouse pasquQ that rayled upon me for the name of bnttaine, if I remember right it spake some thing of harvest, and propheeied my destruction about that tyme, ye maye thinke of this, for it is like to be the labour* of suohe a desperate fellow as this is, if he will not other wayes confease, the gentler tortours are to be first usid unto him et me per gradus ad ima tenditur, and so god speede youre goode worke. " Jaioes K."
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 yean old—he had lived in York •hire, Cambridge, and elsewhere—he had a farm of thirty pounds a-year—his scars came of a pleurisy—he had served no one but Percy—he had served him since Easter, 1604—his master had hired the house about Midsummer-twelve month—at Christmas last he had brought in the powder—he had learnt French in England, but improved it abroad—the 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 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. North ampton 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 facts, so far as they touohed him self. His Christian name was Guy, his surname Fawkes. He was born in York, where his father, Edward Fawkes, had lived; but his father died
about thirty yean ago, leaving him a imall estate, which be 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 sacra ment 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. He 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 amongst them, that they would free the prisoners from the Tower, that they would marry the King's daughter to a * Tb« right of repttbliahing " Her Majesty's Tower" hmUmvnakmtibjiimvtofiManUTMQuinmUßttia.
Catholic, and that they would raise her to the throne. All these confessions made a good day's work, but after Northunpton had left the Tower, Waad went down into Fawkes's cell, and, finding him full of talk, began to urge him, as he looked for graoe, to set forth all he knew of the plot from first to but; how the design arose, who were the agents, and what they proved 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 his secrets the morrow would see him Btretched. Waad left him that night in the belief that he. would 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 spirit, the Lieutenant called his men, and bound his prisoner to the rack. Fawkea 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 knew. v A first confession was taken down. The plot, he said, was a religious plot; he heard it first from an English gentleman in Flandeis ; 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 oome alone, be 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 Powder Plot Room, listening to the first words from his lips whichxould be used in open court against his neighbors of White Webbs.
When these word* 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 "Ouido," he wrote; the rest of his name he could not write. From that day forward silenoe on his part was vain; others besides himself were in arrest; some in the Tower—some in the Gate house 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 reoord on the rack. Chaptbb XIL obioqt or the plot. Thx 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 Worcestershire 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, be. had given up the cause of freedom and the pro* fession 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 Borne, he had borne the latest news from Father Persons and Father Cresswell to their friends in Flanders and at White Webbs; and generally he had earned his wages by pro* moting that revolution whioh the Jesuits told his master would shortly come about. CaUsby 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 oould they do J 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 oounsel to White Webbs.
"Mr. Mese" h*d strange news to tell them ; for he hud just received from Borne, where Persons was the ruling spirit, two papal breves; one addressed to the Archprieet, George Black* well, 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 prinoe 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 Cateaby, by whom they were shown to Lord Monteagle and his cousin Frank. Monteagle had a villa near Hozton, from which he oould easily ride over to White Webbs; and Cateaby hired a house in the same suburbs, at Moorcroft, under London WalL These two gentlemen, seeing that such breves could never he 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 Dnke de Lerma's cabinet, to assure that minister of Catholic sup port, 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 KngKsh coast, they pointed out Milford Haven as the point where it would 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 fore seen, 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 oS, 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 t must wait. t Had he by any sign or shrug approved of Tom £ Winter's hint, that James should be cut off! We only know that Tom returned through Flanders, i where he spread the latest news from Madrid ; t and that the policy of cutting off the King of 1 Scots was from that time adopted in the cloister ( and in the camp. The very first batch of Fathers 1 who came over in the Golden Lion talked openly i of the King and all his house being speedily cut off. A priest sent word to Cecil that the duty 1 of killing James was being canvassed in the ] English colleges of Cleves and Douai; and that i 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 aooess to i hiß table, and stab him as he sat at meat 1 On the day Elizabeth died, Cateaby went i about the town, watching events and eager for i a sign; but in the afternoon he rode over to White Webbs and told the Prefect that the new King had been proclaimed, that everyone was ; pleased, that the city bells were ringing, and the Btreets alive with bonfires. When Garnet heard this news, he took the Papal breves from bis i 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 oome. 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 wss not taken up, and the Jesuits dared not oommit 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 Monteagle were inclined to act with Northampton in supporting James. A new course had to be fetched, and Cateaby, finding a friend in Ambrose Rokewood, a young Suffolk squire, who had been trained in the Jesuits' college at St Omer, con sulted Garnet and Greenway on the polioy 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, waa 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 Cateaby, 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 counting his doubloons and conning his reports, imagined he oould buy with gold from Cecu and Northampton far more than he could gain by Garnet's craft and Cateeby's seal Rebuffed on every side, the fanatica were in despair. Without a friend in Rome, in London, in Madrid, what could they do ? One course at last 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 oould 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 whioh oould be done in the Canongate, could also be done in Parliament place. The House of Lords waa larger than the Kirk of Field ; but what should prevent them from using a larger blast ? Bothwell had em ployed a dozen sacks of powder: why should not Cateaby employ a hundred sacks ? Powder waa cheap. The idea was not new, still leas oould 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 atraita 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 onco, but many times, the great Queen's life had been threatened 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 1 the scheme in which Moody failed. ' If anyone gave the main idea of the Powder i scheme to Cateaby, that man waa Morgan. > There is proof that Morgan told Hugh Owen of his plans, and that Owen explained them to hia creature Fawkes. ' This Thomas Morgan, otherwise known as > Charles Thomas, a brother of Rowland Morgan, i seminary priest, and of Harry Morgan, Customer 1 of Cardiff, was one of those dangerous exiles on 1 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 I could stoop; in following frail women, in tempting soldiers to desert, in watching base intrigues, and following to their source the 1 scandals of a camp. For such foul things Morgan B had a natural taste. He had spent his days ? between the back stairs of a palace and the black 1 hole in a gaol; now playing the part of pimp, 9 anon of lover, and then of spy. After threatening I Elizabeth's life he had blackened Farneee's * name; on which the great Italian soldier had B flung him into prison, instead of flinging him into the Scheldt But rogues like Morgan are H not easily stamped out He got away to Spain, <*? where he could show his teeth. One day we t find him at Porto Santa Maria, giving secret * hints to the Adelantado of Seville, on the way to II surprise and capture English ships; and shortly & afterwards in Madrid, moving heaven and earth
to get hi* contemptuous enemy recalled from those Netherlands which he had saved for the Spanish crown. The fellow had changed hia field, but he had not done with plots. He was now in Paris, in the pay of Mademoiselle Catharine d'Entraguea, Marquise de VeraeuH, the King's mistress; deeply engaged in the criminal intrigued 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, aa well as one in Moororoft, under the city walL He was living in that village of boatmen and fishwives 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 hia needy follower walked by the river, brooding over plans for "cutting off" King James, Before them, across the Thames, rose the ma jestio 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 hia Parliament, ?unrounded by hia wife, hia son, his councillors, and hia 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, Catrtby wrote to Hudding* ton, where Tom Winter was staying with hii brother, Robert, in a very low state of mind. When Tom came up to Lambeth, Catesby ex plained his project " This strake at the root" said Winter, musing; " but what if theyfshould fail I" They could not fail, urged Catesby, if they got a man who knew his trade to construct the mine. At once, he mentioned the name of Fawkes, with whom Kit Wright had journeyed into Spain.
The two fanatic* deferred to Catesby's views ; for Catesby waa to them nob only a man of daring ?pint, but a fine gentleman—the Lord of Lap* worth and Aahby 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 aide of Spain ; and Catesby, though he aaid it would come to nought, waa willing to oblige his tools. He had to deal with the weak no leas than with the strong. He had to ask what oould be done when the blow was struck. He had to satisfy bis friends before he could destroy his enemies ; and Tom Winter imagined that when the old Catholic families saw how tha 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 indue*} to join them after the King was killed. That last appeal oould be made without lost at time. A great hidalgo, Juan Fernando de V*> lasoo, Duke de Frias and Constable of Castile, was on his way to London, armed with powers to arrange the terms of peace. Velasoo was then a^ Bergues, in Flanders, a small inland fortress, near Dunkerque, where he was waiting for his final orders, ere he crossed the Straits into Kent, To him they could send Tarn Winter on a last appeal, and if, as they supposed, 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 them with a conscience fret 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 Velasoo, in order to give it importance in the Constable's eyes. Monteagle, Tresham, and Catesby held a meeting, at which Winter's in* struottons were drawn up and signed; but these three gentlemen, painfully aware how little they oould pretend to represent the English Catholics, and certain that toe 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 Dunkerque, in waiting on Velasco, who wu still at Bergues. Owen walked with Tom to Berguea, where they ?aw Velasoo, and learned from the Constable that be had not only reoeiTed 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 Dunkerque, they canvassed Velaseo's words. "Will they help usr 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 him whether 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 Oatend. to see Sir William Stanley, and enquire of Fawke's "sufficiency in the wars." Stanley I spoke well of him ; and, while they were talking, together, Fawkea 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 if you please to come to me, we will confer on that subject." Two days later, Fawkes rode over to Dunkerque, where they talked the matter over with Father Owen and other Jesuits; Winter explaining to them Catesby'a 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 teok a pair of oars and pulled for Lambeth, and landed at Horse Ferry, near Catesby's door. [to v coannunix]
Thb Government of South Australia hare in* formed the Philosophical Society that they hare no present intention of undertaking a geological surrey of the colony.