The Condition of Catholics Under James I. / Father Gerard's Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot

by John Gerard

So they left Father Garnett for the time; but carried with them matter enough, as they thought, to convict him of this treason in show of the world. To which end it was presently given out through the whole town, that he had confessed all, and now they could prove the Jesuits to be principal plotters of this treason, and him and Greenway to be chief authors and devisers of the same; and it was in most men's mouths that all this was under Garnett's hand confessed. And this presently carried unto the Ambassadors there residing, that by them it might be divulged in others States; and so a falsehood first grounded, might be more hard to be removed by sequent information of the truth, and their proceedings against Father Garnett might seem more justifiable. This report, although it troubled the Catholics of England much until they knew the contrary, yet could they not believe it, being so well acquainted with the giving out of such things, as the chiefest do desire to have believed, although the truth be often found on the contrary side.

In the meantime Father Ouldcorne was also called in further question about this conference and about his knowledge of the treason; but they found him always like himself, both virtuous and wise and constant in both, and as, indeed, he knew nothing thereof, so he ever professed his absolute innocency therein and patiently endured the extreme torments they put him unto, as I have heard five hours every day, four or five days together, which was a greater extremity than one will easily believe that hath not tried it.

Likewise one that did attend upon Father Ouldcorne, and did assist him in his journeys and many good works when he was at liberty, did now suffer with him, as he afterwards died with him. His name was Ralph ———;[382] and he was divers times put upon the torture; but the certain number or measure of the times I cannot yet learn. But he patiently and constantly endured all without revealing any one place or person of his master's acquaintance.

But, above all, they were most troubled and tormented that were known most to belong unto Father Garnett; of which kind they had first taken one John Grissold, an honest faithful man, who had the keeping of a house where the foresaid Mrs. Ann Vaux and a kinswoman of hers did use to dwell near unto London, and where they imagined Father Garnett did also remain with them. This honest man being taken in the beginning of the troubles, was first committed close prisoner to the Gatehouse and there lodged in a dungeon upon the bare ground, for the keeper (though he were earnestly entreated by the other prisoners) would not allow him so much as straw to lie upon, pretending that if he had any straw to lie on, he would with that set fire on the house. This [pg 182] man did both endure his affliction with great patience and answer in all his examinations with great constancy and fidelity. But afterwards, when Father Garnett was taken and prisoner in the Tower, the Commissioners desiring to get matter against him, removed this man to the Tower also, and there put him to the torture with great extremity and very often, almost every day for a long time together, as we did confidently hear reported; with which and with other bad usage in his diet and lodging, he was for a long time after like to die, and it was thought by many that he was dead, and doubtless he escaped very hardly.

But the man that was most extremely used and with extremities brought unto the last extremity, which is death itself, was one Nicholas Oven, commonly called and most known by the name of Little John. By which name he was so famous and so much esteemed by all Catholics, especially those of the better sort, that few in England, either Priests or others, were of more credit. This man did for seventeen or eighteen[383] years continually attend upon Father Garnett, and assist him in many occasions. But his chief employment was in making of secret places to hide Priests and Church stuff in from the fury of searches; in which kind he was so skilful both to devise and frame the places in the best manner, and his help therein desired in so many places, that I verily think no man can be said to have done more good of all those that laboured in the English vineyard. For, first, he was the immediate occasion of saving the lives of many hundreds of persons, both ecclesiastical and secular, and of the estates also of these seculars, which had been lost and forfeited many times over if the Priests had been taken in their houses; of which some have escaped, not once but many times, in several searches that have come to the same house, and sometimes five or six Priests together at [pg 183] the same time. Myself have been one of the seven that have escaped that danger at one time in a secret place of his making. How many Priests then may we think this man did save by his endeavours in the space of seventeen years, having laboured in all shires and in the chiefest Catholic houses of England? Then for spiritual good, it is to be noted he was partner with them all in the gain of souls wherein he did preserve them; and to which end he intended directly all his works, labouring in that painful and dangerous business to keep them in safety for the saving of souls, which it appeared well he respected more than his own body, for he was not ignorant that his office was much subject to the danger of spies, and that when he should happen to be taken he was sure to be extremely handled to wrest out of him the secrets of other men's houses. And so, de facto, he did prove it ten years before this his last apprehension, at which time being taken with Father Gerard, though it were not known directly that he was the man that used to make secret places, neither the time as then all out so violent (things passing much with us by storms and calms, as in times of former persecution), yet was he then put to extreme torture, and used besides with all cunning to see if either force or fear would make him to relent. But when they found that he was so constant he would not yield in the least point, and so discreet withal that they could not take any advantage of his answers either against himself or others, having no evidence at all nor witness to come in against him, they could do no more but keep him still in prison, which they did until Catholics, that could hardly want him abroad, with a good round sum of money did purchase his liberty.

One reason that made him so much desired by Catholics of account, who might have had other workmen enough to make conveyances in their houses, was a known and tried care he had of secrecy, not only [pg 184] from such as would of malice be inquisitive, but from all others to whom it belonged not to know; in which he was so careful that you should never hear him speak of any houses or places where he had made such hides, though sometimes he had occasion to discourse of the fashion of them for the making of others. Yea, he did much strive to make them of several fashions in several places, that one being taken might give no light to the discovery of another. Wherein he had no doubt great aid from Almighty God, for his places were exceeding fortunate (if so we may term the providence of God), and no marvel, for he ever began his work with communicating that day he entered upon it, and, as much as his labour would give him leave, did continually pray whilst he was working. But the contriving of his works in the safest manner were also very much assisted by an extraordinary wit and discretion which he had in such measure as I have seldom in my life seen the like in a man of his quality, which is also the opinion of most that did know him well. But, above all, that which did most commend him both in the sight of God and man, was his innocent life and earnest practice of solid virtues. For the first it was such, that I think no man can say that in all that seventeen or eighteen years they heard him swear by any oath, or ever saw him out of charity; yea, I have heard his ghostly Fathers affirm very seriously, that in all that time they never knew him to have committed mortal sin, nor anything that might be doubted to be such. His practice of the chiefest virtues was such that he had gotten great habits both in the religious virtues of poverty, chastity, and obedience, and no less in humility, patience, and charity, which upon all occasions were very plainly seen in his conversation and actions, insomuch that he was as a pattern of those virtues in every house where he came. One trial of his patience I cannot omit, because it was most apparent and worthy memory.

He was sent on a time to London by his Superior to fetch certain household stuff behind him upon a horse that was somewhat resty. He loaded his horse in an inn, and afterwards got up in the saddle with great difficulty; but then the horse would not forward, whether misliking his load or no, it is uncertain; but instead of going forward he rose so high with his forefeet that he fell backward and fell upon the man and burst his leg; which sore hurt he did bear with so great patience, and in like sort the dressing thereof divers times, but especially when being false knit, it was needful to have it broken the second which was worse than the first, that they all admired him in the inn, where he was forced to lie a long time. And whereas his friends were much afraid he would there have been discovered in his long abode, yet his patience and virtue got him so much love that he received no harm, but was ever after most welcome to the place.

Upon this hurt and the ill-setting of the leg-bone, one leg was a little bended and shorter than the other, whereof he had some halt, but so little as you could scarcely discern it; wherein, as he was made somewhat like in his pace unto blessed Father Ignatius (whose child and scholar he was), so did he labour to follow his steps in his Rules and holy Institution, whereof he was a most religious observer, and as we generally think a Lay-coadjutor of the Society, admitted by Father Garnett some years before his death, though his humble and discreet carriage was such as you could not discern any liberty of fellowlike conversation that he took thereupon with any of the Society, but rather carried himself in all things as a servant. And I have some reasons more in particulars to think that he was assuredly admitted of the Order, yet those can better tell that are of the Society here in England.

Now to come to the manner of his death. It was such as might be expected from so innocent and holy a life; yea, such as the enemy did therefore much malign [pg 186] and to seek to hide, and that with disgrace in all he might. Being taken with Father Garnett, as hath been said, he was first committed to the Marshalsea, and not close prisoner of purpose (as it is thought) to observe who would come unto him; but he was too wise to give any advantage. When Father Garnett was committed to the Tower, he also was sent thither, there to be tortured, and that with all extremity, as it was before intended when he was first known to be taken; for even then a chief Councillor said, “Is he taken that knows all the secret places? I am very glad of that. We will have a trick for him.” And so indeed they tricked him when they had him in the Tower, for they tortured him so long and so often that his bowels gushed out together with his life; which when they did espy, thinking to cover their own cruelty with his slander, they gave it out that he had slain himself with a knife that was lent him to eat his meat withal. And to make this report to go for current amongst the common people, they set forth a ballad with his picture, ripping out his own bowels with a knife as he lay in bed, his keeper being also in the chamber busy about some other thing. But this false slander was so improbable that even his enemies did not believe it, much less his friends that were so well acquainted with his innocent life and long-continued practice in virtue, besides his former tried constancy in that kind. For all men did see it stood with no likelihood that, after all his torments so patiently sustained, he should then of impatience or fear of more torments cast away himself; for then he would rather have done it before his torments, or after the first time to prevent the next, for he was beforehand well assured they meant to use him with all extremity; and yet all the while he was in the Marshalsea, or where his carriage might be seen, no sign of fear or trouble of mind could be discerned, but an humble and quiet settled mind, using great diligence in prayer, as one that prepared [pg 187] himself to his last conflict, which he might well expect, especially knowing the state of his body, as he did, which I will by-and-bye declare. Again, if he would have yielded to sin to save himself from pain, would he not rather have yielded to their desires and discovered the secret places that he knew, for which he might be well assured not only to escape torments, but to be most highly rewarded, as one that could have done them more service in that kind than any man in England whosoever, and might have brought more Priests into their hands and more gentlemen's and noblemen's livings into their possession than any one man could; yea, he might have made it almost an impossible thing for Priests to escape, knowing the residences of most Priests in England, and of all those of the Society, whom he might have taken as partridges in a net, knowing all their secret places which himself had made, and the like conveyances in most of the chief Catholics' houses in England, and the means and manner how all such places were to be found, though made by others. So that as no one man did more good than he in assisting the labours of all the Priests that were workmen in that vineyard, so no ten men could have done so much harm as he alone might if he had been so disposed; by which he well knew he might have made himself great in the world, not only by their rewards for so great and extraordinary service, but also by the spoil of Catholics' goods, being so many and so great, as he might have come to the rifling of, and have had no doubt much thereof for his own share, especially the Church stuff, which he knew to be very rich in some places, and where and how it was laid up. These motives therefore of riches, credit, and pleasure, being joined with assurance of life and liberty, had been more likely baits for him to have bitten at, if he would have swallowed the hook of sin for the avoiding of torment, than by the torment of death voluntarily assumed, not to end his torments, as he well knew, but to begin a never-ending [pg 188] and that also much more intolerable torment in hell-fire. He wanted neither wit nor knowledge in spiritual things to discern the great difference between these two; especially seeing on the one side with pleasures and riches in the world to be joined a longer life, and so a time wherein he might at last hope to do penance and be saved. Whereas on the other side he could see nothing but present death without comfort, and that but “initium dolorum,”[384] the door, as it were, into the house of horror, despair, and everlasting torments.

No; the truth was this: the man had lived a saintly life, and his death was answerable, and he a glorious martyr of extraordinary merit. God assisted him with so much grace that in all his torments he gave not the least sign of relenting, not any sign of impatience, not any one word by which the least of his acquaintance either did or might come in any trouble, of which three kinds they could not so much as feign any little instance to set forth with their forged slander, but set out the bare lie without any colour or likelihood at all. Indeed, I think they intended not to have killed him by torture, though they meant to give him enough, and more than ever any sustained of whom we can find records. For he hung in the torture seven hours together, and this divers times, though we cannot as yet learn the certain number, but day after day we heard of his being carried to torments. Now true it is, and well known to many, that the man had a rupture in his belly, taken with excessive pains in his former labours; and a man in that case is so unable to abide torments, that the civil law doth forbid to torture any man that is broken. He, therefore, being not only tortured, but that with so much extremity and so long continuance, it could not be otherwise but that his bowels should come out; which, when they perceived, and minding as yet to continue that course with him, they girded his belly with a plate of iron [pg 189] to keep in his bowels, but the extremity of pain (which is most, in that kind of torment, about the breast and belly) did force out his guts, and so the iron did serve but to cut and wound his body, which, perhaps, did afterwards put them in mind to give it out that he had ripped his belly with a knife. Which, besides all the former reasons, is in itself improbable, if not impossible. For first, in that case, knives are not allowed, but only in time of meat, whilst one stands by, and those such as are broad at the point, and will only cut towards the midst. And if one be sore tortured (though much less than he was), he is not able to handle that knife neither for many days, but his keeper must cut his meat for him. But his particular case proceeded yet further, for his weakness was such that when a kinswoman of his (to whom they sent for some relief for him) desired to see by his handwriting what he would have, his keeper answered, “What would you have him write? He is not able to put on his own cap: no, not to feed himself, but I am forced to feed him.” This man was likely, then, belike, to do such a deed with a knife which he was not able to grasp. But afterwards, the same party, seeking further to know his estate, and coming to the keeper to learn, as desirous to help him with anything that was needful, he secretly wished her to trouble herself no more, for, said he, “The man is dead, he died in our hands.” This was known presently to divers Catholics, though reported in private, as it was spoken, for fear of further examination and trouble. For after they had published that he had killed himself, and seeing it was not believed, the only argument they had to give it credit was to commit those to prison that spake against it, of which there were divers examples to terrify others. “Sed Deus revelabit abscondita tenebrarum et manifestabit consilia cordium.”[385] And of this great and worthy martyr there is no [pg 190] question but many witnesses will one day be produced to the glory of God and His servant, and the safety of their own souls if ever they come to penance. In the meantime I desire my soul may have part with his, and myself may be assisted with his holy prayers. About whose life and death I have been the longer, to show how much the truth of his virtuous life and glorious death is contrary to the published slander. This happy soul suffering all this, only for his conscience and constant practice of charity, not being so much as accused of any other crime.[386]