The Condition of Catholics Under James I.

Father Gerard's Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot

Edited, With His Life, By

John Morris,

Priest of the Society of Jesus

London: Longmans, Green, & Co.

1871

Contents

[pg ix]

The Life Of Father John Gerard

I.

The life and character of a witness are the grounds on which we base our estimate of his credibility. That he should have spoken of himself at great length and with many and minute details is a circumstance most favourable to the formation of an accurate judgment respecting him. Such is fortunately our position with regard to Father John Gerard, the author of the Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot. He has left a full and most interesting autobiography in Latin; and we have felt that we could not do the reader a better service, or better establish the good fame of a man who has been unjustly accused, than by prefixing to his Narrative translations of large portions of his Autobiography. When the life of Father Gerard is before the reader, we will address ourselves directly to the subject of his veracity, and in conclusion, we will give what is known of the history of the Autobiography, and of the autograph manuscript from which the Narrative of the Powder Plot is printed.

John Gerard was the second son of Sir Thomas Gerard, of Bryn,[1] Lancashire, Knight, and Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Port, of Etwal, Derbyshire, Knight. In the Narrative[2] of the Plot, when he has occasion to speak of his elder brother Thomas, who received knighthood from King James on his accession, he says “that was to him no advancement whose ancestors had been [pg x] so for sixteen or seventeen descents together.” This Sir Thomas was made a baronet at the first creation of that dignity in 1611.

“I was born,” in 1564, “of Catholic parents, who never concealed their profession, for which they suffered much from our heretic rulers; so much so that, when a child of five years of age, I was forced, together with my brother who was also a child, to dwell among heretics under another roof, for that my father, with two other gentlemen, had been cast into the Tower of London, for having conspired to restore the Scottish Queen to liberty and to her kingdom. She was at that time confined in the county of Derby” [at Tutbury[3]] “at two miles distance from us. Three years afterwards, my father, having obtained his release by the payment of a large sum, brought us home, free however from any taint of heresy, as he had maintained a Catholic tutor over us.”

Sir Thomas Gerard was again in the Tower of London later on, and had been there more than two years when his son landed in England as a Priest.[4] A little before this imprisonment, he had been summoned by his kinsman,[5] Sir Gilbert Gerard, the Master of the Rolls, to compound for his recusancy by the “free offer” of a yearly sum to be paid to the Queen, “to be freed from the penalty of the statute.” As it gives an excellent idea of the exactions to which wealthy Catholics were continually subjected in those days, we subjoin Sir Thomas' “offer.” The original in the Public Record Office[6] is signed by himself.

“14 die Martii, 1585.

“Sir Thomas Gerard saith that he is greatly in debt, by reason of his troubles and suretyship, and payeth large interest for the [pg xi] same; and hath sold much of his lands and departed with a large portion of the rest unto his sons; and hath two daughters to bestow, so that he is not able to offer any great sums unto Her Highness in this behalf [preparation to resist the Spanish invasion]. “Yet, nevertheless, he most humbly submitteth himself unto Her Majesty's pleasure, offering his person to serve Her Highness in any place of the world. And if he shall not be admitted thereto, then he offereth, with very good will, 30l. a-year, which is the fourth part of his small portion remaining, now left to maintain himself, his poor wife and children.”

“Thomas Gerard.”

The name of “Dame Elizabeth Gerard” heads the list of thirty-three “Recusants sometimes resident about London and in Middlesex, but now dispersed into other countries.”

With regard to the mention of property transferred by Sir Thomas Gerard to his sons, it may be interesting to quote from the information of a spy,[7] given just ten years later, the following details—

“Item, John Gerard the Jesuit hath certain houses in Lancashire, called Brockehouse Row, near Ashton; he hath made leases, and one tenant hath not paid all his fine: old John Southworth, dwelling thereabouts, is his bailiff, who can show how else the land and title standeth.”

“At the age of fifteen,” the Autobiography resumes, “I was sent to Exeter College, Oxford, where my tutor was a certain Mr. Leutner,[8] a good and learned man, and a Catholic in mind and heart. There however I did not stay more than a twelvemonth, as at Easter the heretics sought to force us to attend their worship, and to partake of their counterfeit sacrament. I returned then with my brother to my father's house, whither Mr. Leutner himself soon followed us, being resolved to live as a Catholic in very deed, and not merely in desire. While there, he superintended our Latin studies for the next two years, but afterwards going to Belgium, he lived and died there most holily. As for Greek, we were at the same time placed under the tuition of a [pg xii] good and pious Priest, William Sutton by name, to whom this occupation served as an occasion for dwelling in our house unmolested. He afterwards entered the Society, and was drowned on the coast of Spain, whither Superiors had called him.

“At the age of nineteen I passed over to France, by permission, with the object of learning the French tongue, and resided for three years at Rhemes. While there, though yet a lad, and far from being solidly grounded in my Humanities, I applied myself to the study of Sacred Scripture, consulting the commentators for the sense of the more difficult passages, and writing down with my own hand the explanations given publicly to the theological students. Being my own master, I did not, as I ought to have done, lay a sufficiently solid foundation. My own taste guided my choice of authors, and I sedulously read the works of St. Bernard and St. Bonaventure, and such other spiritual writers. About this time I made, by God's providence, the acquaintance of a saintly young man, who had been admitted into the Society at Rome, but having for reasons of health been sent out for a time, was then living at Rhemes. He gave me the details of his past life; he told me (may the Lord reward him) how he had been educated in the household of God; he taught me how good and wholesome it was for a man to have borne the yoke from his youth. He taught me the method of mental prayer; for which exercise we were wont to meet together at stated hours, as we were not living in the College, but in different lodgings in the town. It was there that, when about twenty years of age, I heard the call of God's infinite mercy and loving kindness inviting me from the crooked ways of the world to the straight path, to the perfect following of Christ in His holy Society.”

“After my three years' residence at Rhemes, I went to Clermont College, at Paris, to see more closely the manner of the Society's life, and to be more solidly grounded in Humanities and Philosophy. I had not been there one year, when I fell dangerously ill. After my recovery, I accompanied Father Thomas Darbyshire to Rouen, in order to see Father Persons, who had arrived thither from England, and was staying incognito in that city, to superintend the publication of his Christian Directory, a most useful and happy work, which in my opinion has converted to [pg xiii] God more souls than it contains pages. The heretics themselves have known how to appreciate it, as appears from a recent edition thereof published by one of their ministers, who sought to claim the glory of so important a work. To Father Persons then did I communicate my vocation, and my desire of joining the Society. But as I was not yet strong, nor fit to continue my studies, and, moreover, as I had some property to dispose of and arrangements to make in England, he advised me to return thither, so as to recruit my health by breathing my native air, and at the same time to free myself from every obstacle which might prevent or delay me in my pursuit of perfection and the Religious life. I accordingly went home, and after settling my affairs, set out on my return, in about a year; this time, however, without having asked for a license, for I had no hope of obtaining it, as I did not venture to communicate my plans to my parents.

“I embarked then with some other Catholics, and after having been kept five days at sea by contrary winds, we were forced to put in at the port of Dover. On arriving thither, we were all seized by the Custom House officers, and forwarded to London in custody. My companions were imprisoned, on a warrant of the Queen's Privy Council. For my own part, though I declared myself a Catholic, and refused to attend their worship, I escaped imprisonment at that time, as there were some of the Council that were friendly to my family, and had procured me the license to travel abroad on the former occasion. They entertained, it would seem, some hopes of perverting me in course of time, so I was sent to my maternal uncle's, a Protestant, to be kept in his custody, and if possible, to be perverted. He, after three months, sought to obtain my full liberty by praying or paying;[9] but being asked whether I had gone to church, as they call it, he was obliged to acknowledge that he could never bring me to do so. Thereupon the Council sent me with a letter to the pseudo-Bishop of London,[10] who having read it, asked whether I would allow him to confer with me on religious matters. I replied, that as I doubted of nothing, I had rather decline. ‘You must in that case,’ answered the Superintendent, ‘remain here in custody.’ I [pg xiv] replied that in this I was obliged to acquiesce, through force and the command of the Government. He treated me with kindness, with a view perhaps of thus drawing me over. But he ordered his chaplain's bed to be brought into my chamber. At first I repeatedly declared my determination not to enter into any dispute with this man on matters of faith, as to which my mind was settled, nor to receive religious instruction from him; but as he ceased not pouring forth abuse and blasphemy against the Saints in Heaven, and against our Holy Mother the Church, I was forced to defend the truth, and then almost the whole night was spent in disputing. I soon discovered that in him at least God's truth had no very formidable adversary. After two days, as they saw my case was hopeless, they sent me back to the Council with letters of recommendation forsooth, for the so-called Bishop told me that he had greatly striven in my favour, and that he had great hopes of my being set at large. It was, however, a Uriah's letter that I carried, for no sooner had the Council read it, than they ordered me to be imprisoned until I had learnt to be a loyal subject. For they hold him a bad subject who will not subject himself to their heresies and their sacrilegious worship.

“Being committed to the Marshalsea prison, I found there numbers of Catholics and some Priests[11] awaiting judgment of death with the greatest joy. In this school of Christ I was detained from the beginning of one Lent” [March 5, 1584] “to the end of the following, not without abundant consolation of mind, and good opportunity for study.”

“Twice during this interval we were all dragged before the Courts, not to be tried for our lives, but to be fined according to the law against recusants. I was condemned to pay 2,000 florins [200l.].[12] The Court was held in the country, some six miles out of London....”[13]

“At times our cells were visited, and a strict search made for church stuff, Agnus Dei, and relics. Once we were, almost all of us, betrayed by a false brother, who had feigned to be a Catholic, and disclosed our hidden stores to the authorities. On this occasion were seized quantities of Catholic books and sacred objects, enough to fill a cart. In my cell were found nearly all the requisites for saying Mass: for my next-door neighbour was a good Priest, and we discovered a secret way of opening the door between us so that we had Mass very early every morning. We afterwards repaired our losses, nor could the malice of the devil again deprive us of so great a consolation in our bonds.

“In the course of the following year, my liberty was obtained by the importunities of my friends, who however were bound as sureties, to the extent of a heavy sum of money, for my remaining in the kingdom. I was, moreover, to present myself at the prison at the three months' end. And these sureties had to be renewed three or four times before I was able to resume my project. At length the long-wished-for opportunity presented itself. A very dear friend of mine offered himself as bail to meet whatever demand might be made, if I was discovered to be missing after the appointed time. After my departure, he forfeited not indeed his money, but his life: for he was one of the most conspicuous of those fourteen gentlemen who suffered in connection with the captive Queen of Scots, and whose execution, as events soon showed, was but a prelude to taking off the Queen herself.

“Being at length free, I went to Paris;[14] and finding Father William Holt, who had just arrived from Scotland, ready to start for Rome with the Provincial of France, I joined myself to their company. At Rome I was advised to pursue my studies in the English College, and to take Priest's Orders before I entered the Society. I followed this advice, despite my ardent desire of entering Religion, which I communicated to Father Persons, and to Father Holt, the then Rector of the English College. [pg xvi] But as the Roman climate was not suited to my constitution, and I had an extreme desire of going to England, it seemed good to the Fathers to put me at the beginning of the year to casuistry and controversies; I went therefore through a complete course of Positive Theology. Towards its close, when the Spanish Armada was nearing the coasts of England, Cardinal Allen thought fit to send me to England for various matters connected with Catholic interests, but as I still wanted several months of the lawful age for taking Priest's Orders, a Papal dispensation was obtained. I was most unwilling to depart unless I was first admitted into the Society, so Father Persons, out of his singular charity towards me, obtained my admission to the Novitiate, which I was to finish in England. There were at that time in the English College some others who had the like vocation, and we used to strive to conform ourselves as much as possible to the Novices at St. Andrew's, serving in the kitchen, and visiting hospitals. On the Feast of the Assumption of the Most Blessed Virgin Mary, 1588, our Very Rev. Father General Aquaviva received Father Edward Ouldcorne of blessed memory and my unworthy self into the Society of Jesus, and gave us his blessing for the English Mission.

II.

“I started then on my homeward journey,[15] in company with Father Ouldcorne and two other Priests who had been students at the English College.”... “As we passed through Rhemes, where there was an English Seminary, and through Paris, we kept the strictest incognito.”

Father Gerard's passing through Paris was not as little known as he thought, and without being aware of it, he then fell into the gravest of the perils that beset the poor Catholics of England, the “perils from false brethren.” Gilbert Gifford, alias Jacques Colerdin, “an English Priest and Bachelor in Theology,” as he describes himself in his petition[16] to the Archbishop of Paris for [pg xvii] liberation from his prison in Paris, was one of Sir Francis Walsyngham's most copious correspondents. He had been arrested for Babington's conspiracy, and turned spy to save his life. He had a pension[17] from Walsyngham of 100l. a-year for his treachery, the suspicion of which caused his imprisonment. Apparently from his prison, he found means to write a letter[18] to his employers, in which the following sentence occurs: “There be 8 Priests over from Rome, whereof John Gerard and Arthur Shefford a Priest, and his man, will be in England within five days.”

In all unconsciousness Father Gerard proceeds: “At length we came to Eu, where a College for English youths had been established, which was afterwards abandoned on account of the wars, and another more extensive establishment erected at St. Omers. Our Fathers at Eu, after conferring with those who had the management of the College in that town, all strongly opposed our venturing into England as circumstances then were, for that the Spanish attempt had exasperated the public mind against Catholics, and most rigid searches and domiciliary visits had been set on foot; that guards were posted in every village along the roads and streets; that the Earl of Leicester, then at the height of his favour, had sworn not to leave a single Catholic alive at the close of the year, but this man of blood did not live out half his days, for he was cut off in that very same year. We were compelled then to stay there for a time, until fresh instructions were sent us by Father Persons in the name of Father General. They were to this effect, that the state of affairs had indeed much changed since our departure from Rome, but that, as it was the Lord's business that we had to do, he left us free either to wait the return of greater calm or to pursue the course we had entered upon. On receiving this desirable message we did not long deliberate, but immediately hired a ship to land us in the northern part of England, which seemed to be less disturbed. Two Priests from Rhemes joined us, as our former companions preferred to take time before they faced the dangers which awaited them on the opposite shores.

“The ship then set sail with four Priests on board, a goodly cargo indeed, had not my unworthiness deprived me of the crown, for all those other three suffered martyrdom for the faith. The two Priests were soon taken, and being in a short space made perfect, they fulfilled a long time. Their names were Christopher Bales and George Beesley,[19] but my companion, the blessed Father Ouldcorne, after having spent eighteen years of toil and labour in the Lord's vineyard, watered it at length with his blood.

“After crossing the Channel, as we were sailing along the English coast on the third day, my companion and I, seeing a convenient spot in which the ship's boat might easily set us on shore, and considering that it were dangerous if we were to land all together, recommended the matter to God and took counsel with our companions. We then ordered the ship to anchor until dark, and in the first watch we were put ashore in the boat and left there, whereupon the ship immediately set sail and departed. We remained there awhile commending ourselves in prayer to God's providence; then we sought out some path which might lead us further inland, at a greater distance from the sea, before the day should dawn. But the night being dark and cloudy we could not strike out any path that would lead us to the open country, but every way we tried always brought us to some dwelling, as we were made aware by the barking of the dogs. As this happened some two or three times we began to fear lest we might rouse some of the inhabitants, and be seized upon as thieves or burglars. We therefore turned into a neighbouring wood, where we proposed to rest during the night. But the rain and the cold (for it was about the end of October) rendered sleep impossible, nor did we dare to speak aloud to one another, as the wood was in the neighbourhood of a house, but we deliberated in whispers whether to set out together for London or to part company, so that if one were taken the other might escape. Having pondered the reasons on both sides, we determined to set forth each by himself, and to take different routes.

“At day-dawn, then, we cast lots who should first leave the wood, and the lot fell on the good Father who was also the first to leave this world for Heaven. We then made an equal division of what money we had, and after embracing and receiving one from the other a blessing, the future martyr went along the sea-shore to a neighbouring town, where he fell in with some sailors who were thinking of going to London. Being prudent and cautious, he strove by cheerfulness to accommodate himself to their humours in indifferent things. But twice or thrice he could not withhold from reproving their coarse and filthy language, though he imperilled himself by so doing, as he afterwards told me.”... “Evil as they were, he did not so displease them, but that, by their means, and the protection they unwittingly afforded, he was enabled to reach London without molestation; for the watchers, who were in almost every town through which he passed, taking him to be one of the party, cared not to annoy those whose appearance and carriage distinguished them so completely from those for whom they were keeping watch.

“When my companion had departed, I too set out, but by a different road. I had not gone far before I saw some country folks coming towards me. I went up to them and inquired about a stray falcon, whether they had heard the tinkling of his bells. For I wanted them to think that I had lost a falcon, and was going through the country in search of it, as is usual with those who have sustained such a loss, so that they might not wonder why I was strange to the country and had to ask my way. They of course had neither seen nor heard any such thing of late, and seemed sorry that they could not direct my search. I then went with a disappointed air to examine the neighbouring trees and hedges, as if to look for my bird. Thus I was able, without awakening suspicion, to keep clear of the highway, and to get further and further from the sea-shore by going across country. Whenever I saw any one in a field I went up to him and put the same series of questions about the falcon, concealing thereby my anxiety to keep out of the public roads and villages, where I knew sentinels were posted with power to examine every stranger. I thus managed to expend the best part of that day, [pg xx] walking some eight or ten miles, not in a straight line, but by doubling and returning frequently on my steps. At length, being quite soaked with rain and exhausted with hunger and fatigue, for I had scarcely been able to take any food or rest on board ship for the tossing of the waves, I turned into a village inn which lay in my road, for those who go to the inns are less liable to be questioned.

“There I refreshed myself well, and found mine host very agreeable, especially as I wanted to buy a pony he had in his stable. I concluded the bargain at a reasonable price, for the owner was not very rich, but I took it as a means of more speedy and safer transit, for foot-passengers are frequently looked upon as vagrants, and even in quiet times are liable to arrest.

“Next morning I mounted my pony and turned towards Norwich, the capital of that county. I had scarcely ridden two miles when I fell in with the watchers at the entrance of a village, who bade me halt and began to ask me who I was and whence I came. I told them that I was the servant of a certain lord who lived in a neighbouring county (with whom I was well acquainted, though he was unknown to them), that my falcon had flown away, and that I had come to this part of the country to recover him if he should have been found. They found no flaw in my story, yet they would not let me go, but said I must be brought before the constable and the beadle,[20] who were both in church at the time, at their profane heretical service. I saw that I could neither fly nor resist, nor could I prevail with these men, so, yielding to necessity, I went with them as far as the churchyard. One of the party entered the church and brought word that the beadle wished me to come into the church, and that he would see me when service was over. I replied that I would wait for him where I was. ‘No, no,’ said the messenger, ‘you must go into the church.’ ‘I shall stop here,’ I returned, ‘I do not want to lose sight of my horse.’ ‘What!’ said the man, ‘you won't dismount to go and hear the Word of God! I can only warn you that you will make no very favourable impression; as to your horse, I myself will engage to get you a [pg xxi] better one, if you are so anxious about him.’ ‘Go and tell him,’ said I, ‘that if he wants me, either he must come at once or I will wait here.’ As soon as my message was taken to him, the beadle came out with some others to examine me. I could easily see he was not best pleased. He began by demanding whence I came. I answered by naming certain places which I had learnt were not far off. To his questions as to my name, condition, dwelling, and business, I made the same answers as above. He then asked whether I had any letters with me, on which I offered to allow him to search my person. This he did not do, but said he should be obliged to take me before the Justice of the Peace.[21] I professed my readiness to go, should he deem it needful, but that I was in a hurry to get back to my master after my long absence, so that if it could be managed I should be better pleased to be allowed to go on. At first he stood to his resolution, and I saw nothing for it but to go before the Justice and to be committed to gaol, as doubtless would have been the case. But suddenly looking at me with a calmer countenance, he said, ‘You look like an honest man: go on in God's name, I do not want to trouble you any more.’ Nor did God's providence abandon me in my further journey. As I rode onward towards the town, I saw a young man on horseback with a pack riding on before me. I wanted to come up with him, so as to get information about the state of the town, and ask the fittest inn for me to put up at, and he looked like one of whom I could make such inquiries without exciting suspicion; but his horse being better than mine I could not gain upon him, urge my pony how I would. After following him at a distance for two or three miles, it chanced by God's will that he dropped his pack, and was obliged to dismount in order to pick it up and strap it on. As I came up I found he was an unpolished youth, well fitted for my purpose. From him I acquired information that would have been very useful had any danger befallen, but, as it was, by his means the Lord so guided me, that I escaped all danger. For I inquired about a good inn near the city gate, that I might not weary my horse in going from street to street in search of one. He told me there was such an inn on the other side of the city; [pg xxii] but that if I wanted to put up there I must go round the town. Having learnt the way thereto and the sign of the house, I thanked my informant, and left him to pursue his road, which led straight through the town, the same way I should have followed had I not met with such a guide, and in that case I should have run into certain danger, nor would any of those things have befallen which afterwards came to pass for God's greater glory and the salvation of many souls.

“Following then the advice of the young man, I went round the skirts of the city to the gate he had described, and as soon as I entered I saw my inn. I had rested me but a little while there, when a man who seemed to be an acquaintance of the people of the house came in. After greeting me civilly, he sat down in the chimney corner, and dropped some words about some Catholic gentlemen who were kept in gaol there; and he mentioned one whose relative had been a companion of mine in the Marshalsea some seven years since. I silently noted his words, and when he had gone out, I asked who he might be. They answered that he was a very honest fellow in other points, but a Papist. I inquired how they came to know that. They replied that it was a well-known fact, as he had been many years imprisoned in the Castle there (which was but a stone's throw from where I was); that many Catholic gentlemen were confined there, and that he had been but lately let out. I asked whether he had abandoned the Faith in order to be at large. ‘No indeed,’ said they, ‘nor is he likely to, for he is a most obstinate man. But he has been set free under an engagement to come back to prison, when called for. He has some business with a gentleman in the prison, and he comes here pretty often, on that account.’ I held my tongue, and awaited his return. As soon as he came back, and we were alone, I told him I should wish to speak with him apart, that I had heard that he was a Catholic, and for that reason I trusted him, as I also was a Catholic: that I had come there by a sort of chance, but wanted to get on to London: that it would be a good deed worthy of a Catholic, were he to do me the favour of introducing me to some parties who might be going the same road, and who were well known, so that I might be allowed to pass on by favour of their company: that being able to pay my expenses, [pg xxiii] I should be no burden to my companions. He replied that he knew not of any one who was then going to London. I hereon inquired if he could hire a person who would accompany me for a set price. He said he would look out some such one, but that he knew of a gentleman then in the town, who might be able to forward my business. He went to find him, and soon returning desired me to accompany him. He took me into a shop, as if he were going to make some purchase. The gentleman he had mentioned was there, having appointed the place that he might see me before he made himself known. At length he joined us, and told my companion in a whisper that he believed I was a Priest. He led us therefore to the cathedral, and having put me many questions, he at last urged me to say whether or no I was a Priest, promising that he would assist me, at that time a most acceptable offer. On my side, I inquired from my previous acquaintance the name and condition of this party; and on learning it, as I saw God's providence in so ready an assistance, I told him I was a Priest of the Society, who had come from Rome. He performed his promise, and procured for me a change of clothes, and made me mount a good horse, and took me without delay into the country to the house of a personal friend, leaving one of his servants to bring on my little pony. The next day we arrived at his house, where he and his family resided, together with a brother of his who was a heretic. They had with them a widowed sister, also a heretic, who kept house for them; so that I was obliged to be careful not to give any ground for them to suspect my calling. The heretic brother at my first coming was somewhat suspicious, seeing me arrive in his Catholic brother's company unknown as I was, and perceiving no reason why the latter should make so much of me. But after a day or so, he quite abandoned all mistrust, as I spoke of hunting and falconry with all the details that none but a practised person could command. For many make sad blunders in attempting this, as Father Southwell, who was afterwards my companion in many journeys, was wont to complain. He frequently got me to instruct him in the technical terms of sport, and used to complain of his bad memory for such things, for on many occasions when he fell in with Protestant gentlemen, he found it necessary to speak of [pg xxiv] these matters, which are the sole topics of their conversation, save when they talk obscenity, or break out into blasphemies and abuse of the Saints or the Catholic faith. In these cases it is of course desirable to turn the conversation to other subjects, and to speak of horses, of hounds, and such like. Thus it often happens that trifling covers truth,[22] as it did with me on this occasion. After a short sojourn of a few days, I proposed to my newly-found friend, the Catholic brother, my intention of going to London, to meet my Superior. He therefore provided me with a horse, and sent a servant along with me; begging me at the same time to obtain leave to return to that county, and to make his house my home, for he assured me that I should bring over many to the faith, were I to converse with them publicly as he had seen me do. I pledged myself to lay his offer before Father Garnett, and said that I would willingly return if he should approve of it. So I departed, and arrived in London without accident, having met with no obstacle on the road. I have gone into these particulars, to show how God's providence guarded me on my first landing in England; for without knowing a single soul in that county, where until then I had never set foot, as it was far distant from my native place, on the very first day I found a friend who not only saved me from present peril, but who afterwards, by introducing me to the principal families in the county, furnished an opportunity for many conversions; and from the acquaintance I then made, and the knowledge the Catholics in those parts had of me in consequence, all that God chose hereafter to do by my weakness took its origin, as will appear by the sequel.”

III.

“On my arrival in London, by the help of certain Catholics I discovered Father Henry Garnett, who was then Superior. Besides him, the only others of our Society then in England were Father Edmund Weston,[23] confined at Wisbech (who, had he been at large, would have been Superior), Father Robert Southwell, and we two new-comers.

“My companion, Father Ouldcorne, had already arrived, so the Superior was rather anxious on my account, as nothing had been heard of me; but yet for that very reason hopes were entertained of my safety. It was with exceeding joy on both sides that we met at last. I stayed some time with the Fathers, and we held frequent consultations as to our future proceedings. The good Superior gave us excellent instructions as to the method of helping and gaining souls, as did also Father Southwell, who much excelled in that art, being at once prudent, pious, meek, and exceedingly winning. As Christmas was nigh at hand, it was necessary to separate, both for the consolation of the Faithful, and because the dangers are always greater in the great solemnities.

“I was then sent back to my friend in the county where I was first set ashore. This time the Superior provided me with clothes and other necessaries, that I might not be a burden to my charitable host at the outset. But afterwards, throughout the whole period of my missionary labours, the fatherly providence of God supplied both for me and for some others. My dress was of the same fashion as that of gentlemen of moderate means. The necessity of this was shown by reason and subsequent events; for, from my former position, I was more at ease in this costume, and could maintain a less embarrassed bearing, than if I had assumed a character to which I was unaccustomed. Then, too, I had to appear in public and meet many Protestant gentlemen, with whom I could not have held communication with a view to lead them on to a love of the Faith and a desire of virtue, had I not adopted this garb. I found it helped me, not only to speak more freely and with greater authority, but to remain with greater safety, and for a longer interval of time, in any place or family to which my host introduced me as his friend and acquaintance.

“Thus it happened that I remained for six or eight months, with some profit to souls, in the family of my first friend and host; during which time, he took me with him to nearly every gentleman's house in the county. Before the eight months were passed, I gained over and converted many to the Church: among whom were my host's brother, his brother-in-law, and his two sisters; one of these, as I have before mentioned, was my friend's housekeeper, and had been all along a notable Calvinist.

“I reconciled, moreover, the sister of a Judge[24] who even now is the most firm support of the Calvinist party. This lady, having been brought up in his house, had been strongly imbued with this heresy. A very remarkable thing had happened to her some time previously. Being very anxious as to the state of her soul, she went to a certain Doctor of the University of Cambridge, of the name of Perne,[25] who she knew had changed his religion some three or four times under different sovereigns, but yet was in high repute for learning. Going to this Dr. Perne, then, who was an intimate friend of her family, she conjured him to tell her honestly and undisguisedly what was the sound orthodox faith whereby she might attain Heaven. The Doctor, finding himself thus earnestly appealed to by a woman of discretion and good sense, replied: ‘I conjure you never to disclose to another what I am going to say. Since, then, you have pressed me to answer as if I had to give an account of your soul, I will tell you, that you can, if you please, live in the religion now professed by the Queen and her whole kingdom, for so you will live more at ease, and be exempt from all the vexations the Catholics have to undergo. But by no means die out of the faith and communion of the Catholic Church, if you would save your soul.’ Such was the answer of this poor man, but such was not his practice; for, putting off his conversion from day to day, it fell out that, when he least expected, on his return home from dining with the pseudo-Archbishop of Canterbury, he dropped down dead as he was entering his apartment, without the least sign of repentance, or of Christian hope of that eternal bliss which he had too easily promised to himself and to others after a life of a contrary tendency. She to whom he gave the above-mentioned advice was more fortunate than he, and though she at first by no means accepted his estimate of the Catholic faith, yet later on, having [pg xxvii] frequently heard from me that the Catholic faith alone was true and holy, she began to have doubts, and in consequence brought me an heretical work which had served to confirm her in her heresy, and showed me the various arguments it contained. I, on the other hand, pointed out to her the quibbles, the dishonest quotations from Scripture and the Fathers, and the misstatement of facts which the book contained. And so, by God's grace, from the scorpion itself was drawn the remedy against the scorpion's sting, and she has lived ever since constant in her profession of the Catholic faith to which she then returned.

“I must not omit mentioning an instance of the wonderful efficacy of the Sacraments as shown in the case of the married sister of my host. She had married a man of high rank, and being favourably inclined to the Church, she had been so well prepared by her brother, that it cost me but little labour to make her a child of the Catholic Church. After her conversion she endured much from her husband when he found that she refused to join in heretical worship, but her patience withstood and overcame all. It happened on one occasion that she was so exhausted after a difficult and dangerous labour, that her life was despaired of. A clever physician was at once brought from Cambridge, who on seeing her said that he could indeed give her medicine, but that he could give no hopes of her recovery; and having prescribed some remedies, he left. I was at that time on a visit to the house, having come, as was my wont, in company with her brother. The master of the house was glad to see us, although he well knew we were Catholics, and used in fact to confer with me on religious subjects. I had nearly convinced his understanding and judgment, but the will was rooted to the earth, ‘for he had great possessions.’ But being anxious for his wife, whom he dearly loved, he allowed his brother to persuade him, as there was no longer any hope for her present life, to allow her all freedom to prepare for the one to come. With his permission, then, we promised to bring in an old Priest on the following night: for those Priests who were ordained before Elizabeth's reign were not exposed to such dangers and penalties as the others. We therefore made use of his ministry, in order that this lady might receive all the rites of the Church. Having [pg xxviii] made her confession and been anointed with great devotion, she received the Holy Viaticum; and behold in half an hour's time she so far recovered, as to be wholly out of danger; the disease and its cause had vanished, and she had only to recover her strength. The husband seeing his wife thus snatched from the jaws of death, wished to know the reason. We told him that it was one of the effects of the holy Sacrament of Extreme Unction, that it restored bodily health when Divine Wisdom saw that it was expedient for the good of the soul. This was the cause of his conversion; for admiring the power and efficacy of the Sacraments of the true Church, he allowed himself to be persuaded to seek in that Church the health of his own soul. I, being eager to strike the iron while it was hot, began without delay to prepare him for confession; but not wishing just then that he should know me for a Priest, I said that I would instruct him as I had been instructed by Priests in my time. He prepared himself, and awaited the Priest's arrival. His brother-in-law told him that this must be at night time. So, having sent away the servants who used to attend him to his chamber, he went into the library, where I left him praying, telling him that I would return directly with the Priest. I went downstairs and put on my soutane, and returned so changed in appearance, that he, never dreaming of any such thing, was speechless with amazement. My friend and I showed him that our conduct was necessary, not so much in order to avoid danger, but in order to cheat the devil and to snatch souls from his clutches. He well knew, I said, that I could in no other way converse with him and his equals, and without conversation it was impossible to bring round those who were so ill-disposed. The same considerations served to dispel all anxieties as to the consequence of my sojourn under his roof. I appealed to his own experience, and reminded him, that though I had been in continual contact with him, he had not once suspected my priestly character. He thus became a Catholic; and his lady, grateful to God for this two-fold blessing, perseveres still in the Faith, and has endured much since that time from the hands of heretics.

“Besides these, I reconciled to the Church, during the period of my appearance in public, more than twenty fathers and [pg xxix] mothers of families, equal, and some even superior, in station to the above mentioned. For prudence sake I omit their names. As for poor persons and servants, I received a great many; the exact number I do not remember.” ...

“After some six or seven months, I received a visit from a Catholic gentleman of another county, a relative of one of my spiritual children, who was very desirous to make acquaintance with a Jesuit. He was a devout young man, and heir to a pretty considerable estate, one half of which came into his possession by his brother's death, the other portion being held for life by his mother, who was a good Catholic widow lady. Her son lived with her, and they kept a Priest in the house. He had then sold a portion of his estate, and devoted the proceeds to pious uses, for he was fervent and full of charity. After the lapse of a few days, as I saw his aspiration to a higher life and his desires of perfection wax stronger, I told him that there were certain spiritual exercises, by means of which a well-disposed person could discover a short road to perfection, and be best prepared to make choice of a state of life. He most earnestly begged to be allowed to make them. I acceded to his request, and he made great spiritual profit thereby, not only in that he made the best choice, which was that he would enter the Society of Jesus as soon as possible, but also because he made the best and most proper arrangements to carry his purpose into execution, and to preserve meanwhile his present fervour. After his retreat he expressed the greatest wish that I should come and live with him, and I had no rest until I promised to submit the matter to my Superior. For my own part, I could not but reflect that my present public mode of life, though in the beginning it had its advantages, could not be long continued, because the more people I knew and the more I was known to, the less became my safety, and the greater my distractions. Hence it was not without acknowledging God's special providence that I heard him make me this invitation. So, after having consulted with my Superior, and obtained his permission to accept the offer, I bade adieu to my old friends, and stationed a Priest where they might conveniently have recourse to his ministry. He still remains there, to the great profit of souls, though in the endurance of many perils.

“In my new abode, I was able to live much more quietly and more to my taste, inasmuch as nearly all the members of the house were Catholics; and thus it was easier for me to conform to the manner of life of the Society, both as regards dress and the arrangement of my time.... While in this residence (and I was there all but two years) I gave much time to my studies. At times I made missionary excursions, and not only did I reconcile many, but I confirmed some Catholic families in the Faith, and placed two Priests in stations where they might be useful to souls.”

Amongst those to whom Father Gerard gave the Spiritual Exercises while in this residence, were two brothers of the name of Wiseman, who entered the Novitiate of St. Andrew at Rome “under the names of Starkie and Standish, which they assumed,” says Father Gerard, “as a remembrance of me; for under these I passed in the first and second county where I took up my residence.” The one died there, and the other at St. Omers, not long after. Their eldest brother was William Wiseman, of Braddocks, or Broadoaks, a family mansion[26] which stands in the fields two miles from Wimbish Church, in Essex. “He had lately come to his estate on the death of his father, and had made himself a large deer park in it. There he lived like a little king, in ease and independence, surrounded by his children, to whom, as well as to his wife, he was tenderly attached. As he kept clear of Priests from the Seminaries, he lived unmolested, feeling nothing of the burden and heat of the day; for the persecutors troubled chiefly those who harboured the Seminarists, not caring to inquire after those who kept the old Priests, that is, those who had taken Orders before the reign of Elizabeth.... In his house there was living my host's mother, a most excellent widow lady, happy in her children, but still happier in her private virtues. She had four sons and four daughters. These latter, without exception, devoted their virginity to God. Two had already joined the holy Order of St. Bridget before my arrival,” Ann and Barbara;[27] “and [pg xxxi] one of these,” Barbara, “is even at this day Abbess in Lisbon. I sent the two others,” Jane and Bridget “to Flanders, where they still serve God in the Order of St. Augustine at Louvain. Her sons were all pious young men; two,” Thomas and John, “died in the Society, as was related above; the third,” Robert, “chose the army, and was lately slain in a battle with the heretics in Belgium; he fell fighting when many around him had surrendered; the fourth,” William,[28] who married Jane, daughter of Sir Edmund Huddleston, Knight, “was the master of that house, who to his mother's great joy, had given himself up to every good work.”

Mrs. Wiseman, or “the Widow Wiseman,” as it seems more natural to call her, had a house of her own at Northend in the parish of Great Waltham, which had been in possession of the family since the time of Henry VI. On Father Gerard's recommendation she went to live there, and maintained a Priest, “in order that so noble a soul, and one so ready for all good deeds, might be a profit not only to herself but to many, as in fact she became. Her house was a retreat and no small protection both to ours and to other Priests.” This valiant Catholic woman and her brave son were in bad repute with the persecuting authorities, and the Public Record Office preserves many reports respecting them. In January, 1594, Justice Young writes to Lord Keeper Puckering,[29] “Mrs. Jane Wiseman her house is the only resort for these wicked persons. She was at Wisbech with the Seminaries and Jesuits there, and she did repent that she had not gone bare-footed thither, and she is a great reliever of them, and she made a rich vestment and sent it them, as your Lordship doth remember as I think, when you and my Lord of Buckhurst [pg xxxii] sent to Wisbech to search, for that I had letters which did decypher all her doings.” She was condemned in 1598 to the peine forte et dure for refusing to plead when indicted for harbouring Father Jones, alias Buckley, the Franciscan martyr. “However, on account of her rank and the good name which she had, the Queen's councillors would not let such barbarity be practised in London. So they transferred her after her condemnation to a more loathsome prison, and kept her there. They wanted at the same time to seize her income for the Queen. Now if she had been dead, this income would not have gone to the Queen, but to the widow's son, my host. The godly woman therefore lived in this prison, reft of her goods but not of her life, of which she most desired to be reft. She pined in a narrow and filthy cell till the accession of King James, when, as is usual at the crowning of a new King, she received a pardon, and returned home; where she now serves the servants of God, and has two of ours with her in the house.”

IV.

While Braddocks was his head-quarters, “I found time,” he says, “both for study and missionary excursions. I took care that all in the house should approach the Sacraments frequently, which none before, save the good widow, used to do oftener than four times a year. Now they come every week. On feast-days, and often on Sundays, I preached in the chapel; moreover, I showed those who had leisure the way to meditate by themselves, and taught all how to examine their conscience. I also brought in the custom of reading pious books, which we did even at meals, when there were no strangers there; for at that time we Priests sat with the rest, even with our gowns on. I had a soutane besides and a biretta, but the Superior would not have us use these except in the chapel.

“In my excursions I almost always gained some to God. There is, however, a great difference to be observed between these counties where I then was, and other parts of England; for in some places, where many of the common people are Catholics, and almost all lean towards the Catholic faith, it is easy to bring many into the bosom of the Church, and to have many hearers [pg xxxiii] together at a sermon. I myself have seen in Lancashire two hundred together at Mass and sermon; and as these easily come in, so also they easily scatter when the storm of persecution draws near, and come back again when the alarm has blown over. On the contrary, in those parts where I was now staying there were very few Catholics, but these were of the higher classes; scarcely any of the common people, for they cannot live in peace, surrounded as they are by most violent heretics. The way of managing in such cases, is first to gain the gentry, then the servants: for Catholic masters cannot do without Catholic servants.

“About this time I gained to God and the Church my hostess' brother, the only son of a certain Knight,” Henry, son of Sir Edmund Huddleston, of Sawston.[30] “I ever after found him a most faithful friend in all circumstances. He afterwards took to wife a relative[31] in the third degree of the most illustrious Spanish Duke of Feria,” Dorothy, daughter of Robert first Lord Dormer, by his wife, Elizabeth Browne, daughter of Anthony first Viscount Montague. “This pious pair are so attached to our Priests, that now in these terrible times they always keep one in their house, and often two or three.” ...

“Besides others of less standing whom my host's mother, in her great zeal for souls, brought me to be reconciled, she had nearly won over a certain great lady, a neighbour of hers. Though this lady was the wife of the richest[32] lord in the whole county, and sister to the Earl of Essex (then most powerful with the Queen), and was wholly given to vanities, nevertheless she brought her so far as to be quite willing to speak with a Priest, if only he could come to her without being known. This the good widow told me. I consequently went to her house openly, and addressed her as though I had something to tell her from a [pg xxxiv] certain great lady her kinswoman, for so it had been agreed. I dined openly with her and all the gentry in the house, and spent three hours at least in private talk with her. I first satisfied her in all the doubts which she laid before me about faith; next, I set myself to stir up her will, and before my departure I so wrought upon her, that she asked for instructions how to prepare herself for confession, and fixed a day for making it. Nay, she afterwards wrote to me earnestly protesting that she desired nothing in the world so much as to open to me the inmost recesses of her heart. But the judgments of God are a deep abyss, and it is a dreadful thing to expose oneself to the occasions of sin. Now there was a nobleman[33] in London, who had loved her long and deeply; to him she disclosed her purpose by letter, perchance to bid him farewell; but she roused a sleeping adder. For he hastened to her, and began to dissuade her in every kind of way; and being himself a heretic, and not wanting in learning, he cunningly coaxed her to get him an answer to certain doubts of his from the same guide that she herself followed; saying that if he was satisfied in this, he too would become a Catholic. He implored her to take no step in the meantime, if she did not wish for his death. So he filled two sheets of paper about the Pope, the worship of Saints, and the like. She sent them with a letter of her own, begging me to be so good as to answer them, for it would be a great gain if such a soul could be won over. He did not, however, write from a wish to learn, but rather with the treacherous design of delaying her conversion. For he got an answer, a full one I think, to which he made no reply. But meanwhile he endeavoured to get her to London, and succeeded in making her first postpone, and afterwards altogether neglect her resolution. By all this, however, he was unwittingly bringing on his own ruin; for later on, returning from Ireland laden with glory, on account of his successful administration, and his victory over the Spanish forces that had landed there (on which occasion he brought over with him the [pg xxxv] Earl of Tyrone, who had been the most powerful opponent of heresy in that country, and most sturdy champion of the ancient faith), he was created an Earl, and though conqueror of others, he conquered not himself, but was kept a helpless captive by his love of this lady. This madness of his caused him to commit such extravagances that he became quite notorious, and was publicly disgraced. Unable to endure this dishonour, and yet unwilling to renounce the cause of it, he died of grief, invoking, alas! not God, but this goddess, ‘his angel,’ as he called her, and leaving her heiress of all his property. Such was his miserable end, in bad repute of all men. The lady, though now very rich, often afterwards began to think of her former resolution, and often spoke of me to a certain Catholic maid of honour that she had about her. This latter coming into Belgium about three years back to become a Nun, related this to me, and begged me to write to her and fan the yet unquenched spark into a flame. But when I was setting about the letter, I heard that she had been carried off by a fever, not, however, before she had been reconciled to the Church by one of ours. I have set this forth at some length, that the providence of God with regard to her whose conversion was hindered, and His judgment upon him who was the cause of the hindrance, may more clearly appear.

“I used also to make other missionary excursions at this time to more distant counties towards the north. On the way I had to pass through my native place, and through the midst of my kindred and acquaintance; but I could not do much good there, though there were many who professed themselves great friends of mine. I experienced in fact most fully the truth of that saying of Truth Himself, that no prophet is received in his own country; so that I felt little wish at any time to linger among them. It happened once that I went to lodge on one of those journeys with a Catholic kinsman.[34] I found him in hunter's trim, ready to start for a grand hunt, for which many of his friends had met together. He asked me to go with him, and try to gain over a certain gentleman who had married a cousin of his and mine. I [pg xxxvi] answered that some other occasion would be more fit. He disagreed with me, however, maintaining that unless I took this chance of going with him, I should not be able to get near the person in question. I went accordingly, and during the hunt joined company with him for whose soul I myself was on the hunt. The hounds being at fault from time to time, and ceasing to give tongue, while we were awaiting the renewal of this hunters' music, I took the opportunity of following my own chase, and gave tongue myself in good earnest. Thus, beginning to speak of the great pains that we took over chasing a poor animal, I brought the conversation to the necessity of seeking an everlasting kingdom, and the proper method of gaining it, to wit, by employing all manner of care and industry; as the devil on his part never sleeps, but hunts after our souls as hounds hunt after their prey. We said but little on disputed points of faith, for he was rather a schismatic than a heretic, but to move his will to act required a longer talk. This work was continued that day and the day after; and on the fourth day he was spiritually born and made a Catholic. He still remains one, and often supports Priests at home and sends them to other people.”

V.

“My journeys northwards were undertaken for the purpose of visiting, and strengthening in the faith, certain persons who there afforded no small aid to the common cause. Among them were two sisters of high nobility, daughters of an Earl of very old family who had laid down his life for the Catholic faith.[35] They lived together, and manifested a great desire to have me not merely visit them sometimes, but rather stay altogether with them. The elder, who had a family, became a pillar of support to that portion of our afflicted Church. She kept two Priests with her at home, and received all who came to her with great charity. There are numbers of Priests in that part of the country, and many Catholics, mostly of the poorer sort. Indeed, I was hardly [pg xxxvii] ever there without our counting before my departure six or seven Priests together in her house. Thus she gave great help to religion in the whole district during her abode there, which lasted till I was seized and thrown into prison; whereupon she was constrained by her husband to change her abode and go to London, a proceeding which did neither of them any good, and deprived the poor Catholics of many advantages. Her sister was chosen by God for Himself. I found her unmarried, humble and modest. Gradually she was fitted for something higher. She learnt the practice of meditation; and profited so well thereby, that the world soon grew vile in her eyes, and Heaven seemed the only thing worthy of her love. I afterwards sent her to Father Holt, in Belgium. He wrote to me on one occasion about her in these terms: ‘Never has there come into these parts a countrywoman of ours that has given such good example, or done such honour to our nation.’ She had the chief hand in the foundation of the present convent of English Benedictine Nuns at Brussels,[36] where she still lives, and has arrived to a great pitch of virtue and self-denial. She yearns for a more retired life, and has often proposed to her director to allow her to live as a recluse, but gives in to his reasons to the contrary.

“At first I used to carry with me on these journeys my altar furniture, which was meagre but decent, and so contrived that it could be easily carried, along with several other necessary articles, by him who acted as my servant. In this way I used to say Mass in the morning in every place where I lodged, not however before I had looked into every corner around, that there might be no one peering in through the chinks. I brought my own things mainly on account of certain Catholics, my entertainers, not having yet what was necessary for the Holy Sacrifice. But after some years this cause was removed; for in nearly every place that I came to they had got ready the sacred vestments beforehand. Moreover, I had so many friends [pg xxxviii] to visit on the way, and these at such distances from one another, that it was hardly ever necessary for me to lodge at an inn on a journey of one hundred and fifty miles; and at last I hardly slept at an inn once in two years.

“I used to visit my Superior,” Father Garnett, “several times a year, when I wished to consult him on matters of importance. Not only I, but all of us used to resort to him twice a year to give our half-yearly account of conscience and renew the offering of our vows to our Lord Jesus. I always remarked that the others drew great profit from this holy custom of our Society. As for myself, to speak my mind frankly, I never found anything do me more good, or stir up my courage more to fulfil all the duties which belong to our Institute, and are required of the workmen who till the Lord's vineyard in that country. Besides experiencing great spiritual joy from the renewal itself, I found my interior strength recruited, and a new zeal kindled within me afterwards in consequence; so that if I have not done any good, it must have come from my carelessness and thanklessness, and not from any fault of the Society, which afforded me such means and helps to perfection.

“On one occasion we were all met together in the Superior's house while he yet resided in the country,” in Worcestershire, “and were employed in the renovation of spirit. We had had several conferences, and the Superior had given each of us some advice in private, when the question was started what we should do if the Priest-hunters suddenly came upon us, seeing that there were so many of us, and there were nothing like enough hiding-places for all. We numbered then, I think, nine or ten of ours, besides other Priests our friends, and some Catholics who would also have had to seek concealment. The blessed[37] Father Garnett answered, ‘True, we ought not all to meet together now that our number is daily increasing; however, as we are here assembled for the greater glory of God, I will be answerable for all till the renovation is over, but beyond that I will not promise.’ Accordingly, on the very day of the renovation, though he had been quite unconcerned [pg xxxix] before, he earnestly warned every one to look to himself, and not to tarry without necessity, adding, ‘I do not guarantee your safety any longer.’ Some, hearing this, mounted their horses after dinner and rode off. Five of ours and two Secular Priests stayed behind.

“Next morning, about five o'clock, when Father Southwell was beginning Mass, and the others and myself were at meditation, I heard a bustle at the house door. Directly after I heard cries and oaths poured forth against the servant for refusing admittance. The fact was, that four Priest-hunters, or pursuivants as they are called, with drawn swords were trying to break down the door and force an entrance. The faithful servant withstood them, otherwise we should have been all made prisoners. But by this time Father Southwell had heard the uproar, and, guessing what it meant, had at once taken off his vestments and stripped the altar; while we strove to seek out everything belonging to us, so that there might be nothing found to betray the presence of a Priest. We did not even wish to leave boots and swords lying about, which would serve to show there had been many guests though none of them appeared. Hence many of us were anxious about our beds, which were still warm, and only covered, according to custom, previous to being made. Some, therefore, went and turned their beds, so that the colder part might deceive anybody who put his hand in to feel. Thus, while the enemy was shouting and bawling outside, and our servants were keeping the door, saying that the mistress of the house, a widow, had not yet got up, but that she was coming directly and would give them an answer, we profited by the delay to stow away ourselves and all our baggage in a cleverly-contrived hiding-place.

“At last these four leopards were let in. They raged about the house, looking everywhere, and prying into the darkest corners with candles. They took four hours over the business; but failed in their search,[38] and only brought out the forbearance of the Catholics in suffering, and their own spite and obstinacy in seeking. At last they took themselves off, after getting paid, forsooth, for their trouble. So pitiful is the lot of the Catholics, [pg xl] that those who come with a warrant to annoy them in this or in other way, have to be paid for so doing by the suffering party instead of by the authorities who send them, as though it were not enough to endure wrong, but they must also pay for their endurance of it. When they were gone, and were now some way off, so that there was no fear of their returning, as they sometimes do, a lady came and summoned out of the den, not one, but many Daniels. The hiding-place was underground, covered with water at the bottom, so that I was standing with my feet in water all the time. We had there Father Garnett, Father Southwell, and Father Ouldcorne (three future martyrs), Father Stanny, and myself, two Secular Priests, and two or three lay gentlemen. Having thus escaped that day's danger, Father Southwell and I set off the next day together, as we had come. Father Ouldcorne stayed, his dwelling or residence being” at Henlip House, “not far off.”

VI.

But Father Gerard's good works were now to be interfered with by the treachery of a servant. This man's name was John Frank, and his deposition taken before Justice Young, May 12, 1594,[39] will illustrate Father Gerard's story. The Father introduces the traitor without naming him.

“There is a time for gathering stones together, and a time for scattering them. The time had now come for trying the servants of God, my hosts, and myself along with them. And that they might be more like in their sufferings to their Lord for Whom they suffered, God allowed them to be betrayed by their own servant, whom they loved. He was not a Catholic, nor a servant of the house, but had been once in the service of the second brother, who when he crossed the sea recommended him to his mother and brother. He lived in London, but often used to visit them, and knew nearly everything that happened in either of their houses. I had no reason for suspecting one whom all trusted. Still I never let him see me acting as a Priest, or dressed in such a way as to give him grounds to say that I was one. However, as [pg xli] he acknowledged afterwards, he guessed what I was from seeing his master treat me with such respect; for he nearly always set me two or three miles on my journeys. Often too my host would bear me company to London, where we used at that time to lodge in this servant's house. I had not yet found by experience, that the safest plan was to have a lodging of my own. Such were the facts which, as the traitor afterwards stated, gave rise to his suspicions. Feeling sure that he could get more than three hundred pieces of silver for the sale of his master, he went to the magistrates and bargained to betray him. They, it seems, sent him for a while to spy out who were Priests, and how many there were of them haunting the houses of the widow and her son.

“The widow's house was first searched. The Priest that usually dwelt there was then at home, but escaped for that time by taking refuge in a hiding-place. As for the pious widow, they forced her to go to London, there to appear before the Judges who tried cases concerning Catholics. At her appearance she answered with the greatest courage, more like a free woman than a grievously persecuted prisoner. She was thrown into gaol.” From Frank we learn that the search was made Dec. 26, 1593.

“He saith that one Brewster, a Priest, being a tall man with a white flaxen beard, was at old Mrs. Wiseman's house at Northend from Michaelmas till Christmas last, and was in the house when the pursuivants were there on Wednesday the 26th of December last, hid in a privy place in a chamber. And William Suffield, Mr. William Wiseman's man, came thither for him on Thursday in the Christmas week, at five o'clock in the night, and carried him to Mr. William Wiseman's house at Braddocks (as this examinate heard). And afterwards Suffield came again and rode with old Mrs. Wiseman to the Lord Rich's.” The seat of Lord Rich was at Lee Priory, not far from Northend. The widow, therefore, was not arrested on this occasion.

Of the search, Justice Young made the following report to Lord Keeper Puckering.[40] “Right honourable, my humble duty remembered, this is to advertize your honour that the bearers hereof, Mr. Worsley and Mr. Newall,” pursuivants who were Topcliffe's chief aiders in the searches made in the houses of [pg xlii] Catholics, “hath been in Essex at Mrs. Wiseman's house, being a widow, and there they found a Mass a preparing, but the Priest escaped, but they brought from thence Robert Wiseman her son,[41] and William Clarke, a lawyer, and Henry Cranedge, a physician, and Robert Foxe, who doth acknowledge themselves all to be recusants, and do deny to take an oath to answer truly to such matters as shall touch the Queen's Majesty and the State, whereupon I have committed them close prisoners, one from another. Also they found in the said house one Nicholas Norffooke, Samuel Savage, and one Daniell, servants unto the said Mrs. Wiseman, and one Mrs. Ann Wiseman, a widow, and Mary Wiseman her daughter, and Elizabeth Cranedge, and Alice Jenings, wife of Richard Jenings, and Mary Wiseman, daughter to Mr. George Wiseman, of Upminster, and is in Commission of the Peace, and all these in the said house are recusants; wherefore it may stand with your lordship's good liking, I think it were well that they were all sent for hither to be examined, for that, the said Mrs. Jane Wiseman——” and then follows the remembrance of old Mrs. Wiseman's wish that her pilgrimage to the Priests at Wisbech had been barefooted, that we have already given.

“Item, he saith, to return to Frank's examination, “that Mr. Gerard, alias Tanfield, alias Staunton, the Priest Jesuit, was at Mr. William Wiseman's house at Braddocks all the Christmas last, and Richard Fulwood was his man attending on him, and was two years coming and going thither, and was also with Mr. Wiseman in Lancashire a little before Michaelmas was twelve months, as Ralph Willis, who then attended on Master Gerard, told this examinate, and were at the Lady Gerard's house, she being at home.”

“Item, he saith that he hath seen Mr. Gerard dine and sup ordinarily with Mr. Wiseman at his own table in his house at Braddocks about twelve months past, and that at Michaelmas was twelve months they were both together in the examinate's house,—Father Gerard has just told us that they used to go there till he got a lodging of his own—“and Mr. Ormes, the tailor of Fleet-street, [pg xliii] was there with him, and did take measure of Mr. Gerard by the name of Mr. Tanfield, to make him garments.”

“Item, he saith that the said Gerard lay one night at the Lady Mary's in Blackfriars (as he thinketh) a little before Easter last,[42] and Ralph Willis, his servant, lay that night at this examinate's house, and that Richard Fulwood, since his imprisonment in Bridewell at Easter last, wrote a letter and sent it from Bridewell to the Lady Mary's, and there this examinate received it and went down with it to Mr. Gerard, who was at Mr. William Wiseman's house at Braddocks all the Easter last, and hidden in the house while the pursuivants were there, which letters aforesaid this examinate did deliver to Ralph Willis, who carried them immediately to Mr. Gerard. And this examinate saw the letters in Mr. Gerard's hands, and heard him read them. Wherein Fulwood wrote that he expected torture every day, and Mr. Gerard wished that he might bear some of Fulwood's punishment.” ...

“Item, he saith that the satin doublet and velvet hose which were found in Middleton's house at the apprehension of Mr. Gerard were Mr. Wiseman's, and the ruffs were Mrs. Wiseman's; and if they had not been taken, the apparel should have been carried by this examinate the next day to Mr. Wiseman in the Counter.

“Item, he saith that about three weeks before Michaelmas last or thereabouts, this examinate was sent by old Mrs. Wiseman to Mr. Gerard, from Northend to London, with Scudamore, alias John Wiseman, the Priest,[43] and a boy named Richard Cranishe, of the age of 16 years, son of Robert Cranishe, and afterwards [pg xliv] Mrs. Jane Wiseman[44] and Mrs. Bridget Wiseman, sisters to Mr. William Wiseman, came up also; and William Savage, tailor, servant to old Mrs. Wiseman, and Richard Fulwood, Mr. Gerard's man, attended on them, and John Jeppes came up at the same time; all of which persons (saving Jeppes) lay at this examinate's house a week. And then Scudamore, the two gentlewomen, Cranishe, Savage, and this examinate, embarked themselves at Gravesend in one Motte his bark, and went over to Middleborough, and there lay at one Charles his house about a fortnight, and then went to Antwerp, and this examinate returned back again, but whether Mr. William Wiseman did know of their going over or no he cannot tell.” ...

“Item, he saith that Nicholas Owen, who was taken in bed with Mr. Gerard the Jesuit, was at Mr. Wiseman's house at Christmas was twelve months, and called by the name of Little John and Little Michael, and the cloak that he wore was Mr. Wiseman's cloak a year past, and was of sad green cloth with sleeves, caped with tawny velvet and little gold strips turning on the cape. And the said Owen was at Mr. Emerson's at Felsted while Mrs. Wiseman lay there.” ...

Such is Frank's examination, taken in May, 1594, and it will throw much light on the subsequent narrative. On the 14th of April, Justice Young sent to Lord Keeper Puckering[45] “the names of them that were found in Mr. Wiseman's house: John Fulwood, Richard Fulwood, Richard Wallis, William Wallis, William Suffield, Ralph Williamson, John Stratforde. These men are all recusants, and will not take an oath to the Queen's Majesty, nor to answer to anything. One Thomas was apprehended when his master was taken, and he fled away with his master's best gelding and a handful of gold that his master gave [pg xlv] him. All these were servants[46] to Mr. William Wiseman, who is a continual receiver of all Seminary Priests, and went to Wisbech to visit the Priests and Jesuits there, and since his imprisonment there was a Seminary Priest in his house which escaped away from the Justices and pursuivants and left his apparel behind him.” This was, as we shall see, Father Gerard himself, and later on he was made to try on the clothes thus found, and “they were just a fit.” All this was to prove Mr. Wiseman guilty of harbouring a Priest, “which,” Father Gerard says, “they were never able to do.”

Father Garnett, in a letter[47] to Father Persons at Rome, dated Sept. 6, 1594, thus describes the capture of the servants. “The Friday night before Passion Sunday” [March 15] “was such a hurly-burly in London as never was seen in man's memory; no, not when Wyatt was at the gates. A general search in all London, the Justices and chief citizens going in person; all unknown persons taken and put in churches till the next day. No Catholics found, but one poor tailor's house at Golding-lane end, which was esteemed such a booty as never was got since this Queen's days. The tailor and divers others there taken lie yet in prison, and some of them have been tortured. That mischance touched us near; they were our friends and chiefest instruments. That very night had been there Long John with the little beard, once your pupil” [in the margin is written John Gerard], “if I had not more importunately stayed him than ever before. But soon after he was apprehended, being betrayed we know not how; he will be stout I doubt not. He hath been very close, but now is removed from the Counter to the Clink, where he may in time do much good. He was glad of Mr. Homulus[48] his company, but he had been taken from him and carried to Newgate, whence he hopeth to redeem him again.”

Father Gerard tells the story thus. “The hidden traitor, wholly unknown to his master, was watching his chance of giving us up without betraying his own treachery. At first he settled to have me seized in a house” in Golding-lane “which had been lately hired in London to answer my own and my friends' purposes. From his master's employing him in many affairs, he could not help knowing the place which his master had hired for my use. Consequently he promised the magistrates to tell them when I was coming, so that they might surround the house during the night with their officers, and cut off my escape. The plan would have succeeded, had not God provided otherwise through an act of obedience.

“My Superior had lately come to live four or five miles from London.[49] I had gone to see him, and had been with him a day or two, when, having business in London, I wrote to those who kept the house to expect me on such a night, and bring in certain friends whom I wanted to see. The traitor, who was now often seen in the house, which belonged ostensibly to his master, learnt the time, and got the Priest-hunters to come there at midnight with their band.

“Just before mounting my horse to depart, I went to take leave of my Superior. He would have me stay that night. I told him my business, and my wish to keep my appointment with my friends; but the blessed Father would not allow it, though, as he said afterwards, he knew no reason, nor was it his wont to act in this manner. Without doubt he was guided by the inspiration of God; for early next morning we heard that some Papists had been seized in that house, and the story ran that a Priest was among them. The fact was that my servant, Richard Fulwood, was caught trying to hide himself in a dark place, there being as yet no regular hiding-places, though I meant to make some. As he cut a good figure, and neither the traitor nor any one else that knew him was there, he was taken for a Priest. Three Catholics and one schismatic were seized and thrown into prison. The latter was a Catholic at heart, but did not refuse to go to the heretics' churches. As he was a trusty man, I employed him as [pg xlvii] keeper of the house, to manage any business in the neighbourhood. At their examination they all showed themselves steadfast and true, and answered nothing that could give the enemy any inkling that the house belonged to me instead of to my host. It was well that it was so; for things would have gone harder with the latter had it been otherwise. The magistrates sent him a special summons, in the hope that my arrest would enable them to make out a stronger case against him. As soon as he arrived in London he went straight to the house, never dreaming what had happened there, in order to treat with me as to the reason of his summons, and how he was to answer it. So he came and knocked at the door. It was opened to him at once; but, poor sheep of Christ, he fell into the clutches of wolves, instead of the arms of his shepherd and friend. For the house had been broken into the night before, and there were some ministers of Satan still lingering there, to watch for any Catholics that might come, before all got scent of the danger. Out came these men then; the good gentleman found himself ensnared, and was led prisoner to the magistrates. ‘How many Priests do you keep in your house?’ ‘Who are they?’ were the questions poured in upon him on all sides. He made answer, that harbouring Priests was a thing punishable with death, and so he had taken good care not to run such a risk. On their still pressing him, he said that he was ready to meet any accusation that could be brought against him on this head. However, they would not hint anything about me, because though disappointed this time, they still hoped to catch me later, as the traitor was as yet unsuspected.

“My host had on hand a translation of a work of Father Jerome Platus, On the Happiness of a Religious State. He had just finished the second part, and had brought it with him to see me about it. When he was seized, these papers were seized too. Being asked what they were, he said it was a book of devotion. Now the heretics are wont to pry into any writings that they find, because they are afraid of anything being published against themselves and their false doctrine. Not having time to go on with the whole case, they were very earnest about his being answerable for those papers. He said that there was nothing contained in them against the State or against sound teaching; and offered on [pg xlviii] the spot to prove the goodness and holiness of everything that was there set down. In so doing, as he told me afterwards, he felt great comfort at having to answer for so good a book. He was thrown into prison, and kept in such close confinement that only one of his servants was allowed to go near him, and that was the traitor. Knowing that his master had no inkling of his bad faith, they hoped by his means to find out my retreat, and seize my person much sooner than they could otherwise have done.”

The following is Mr. Wiseman's examination, taken before Sir Edward Coke and others, in which will be found the defence of Father Jerome Platus, which Father Gerard so accurately remembered, and embodied in his Narrative.

“The examination[50] of William Wiseman, of Wymbyshe, in the county of Essex, gentleman, taken the 19th day of March, in the thirty-sixth year of Her Majesty's reign [1594].

“He saith that he hath the murrey” [mulberry-coloured] “beads (showed unto him upon his examination) of a gentlewoman and friend of his, and that he will not tell her name, for that she is a Catholic, as he termeth her, and saith that he hath had these beads about a year and a quarter, and received the same at Wymbyshe aforesaid, at his house there, called Broadoaks, and saith now, upon better advertisement, that his sister, Bridget Wiseman, now being beyond sea, did get the said beads and string the same for him, this examinate, but where she had them he cannot tell. Being demanded whether he knew a book (showed to him upon his examination) called Breviarium Romanum, he denieth that he knoweth the book or whose it is. He supposeth that a letter showed unto him upon his examination, beginning, ‘Dear son, this day,’ &c. &c., and ending with ‘Commendation to all my friends,’ is his mother's own handwriting, and sent unto him, this examinate, to his house aforesaid to-morrow shall be a seven-night.

“And saith that a friend of his hath hired the house in Golding-lane, where he was apprehended, but denieth to tell his name for charity sake, but saith that his friend hired it of [pg xlix] Mr. Tute, dwelling in the next house unto it, and saith that he hired it the last term. And saith that his friend did hire the said house for him, this examinate, and his mother, and saith that he never was at the house before, but came to the said house by such description as his friend made to him of it, and that this examinate came thither on Saturday at night to lie there, and his man (whose name he will not tell,[51] is Richard Fulwood) provided him by his commandment and appointment a bed and furniture belonging to the same in the said house, and knoweth not whether the bedding was in the house before he, this examinate, hired the same house or no, but thinketh that some of the bedding that now is there was in the house before.

“He saith that the said Richard Fulwood hath served him about Shrovetide last was two years.

“And saith that since he, this examinate, was confined, he hath used John Fulwood, brother to the said Richard Fulwood, in travelling about his business.

“And saith that his servant, Thomas Barker, after he was apprehended and under arrest, was sent by this examinate to his inn, to return to him again as he saith, and further saith that before the said Thomas Barker went off out of the constable's custody, he, this examinate, laid two angels in the headborough's hand, and to take them to his own use if his servant did not return again. He thinketh he is gone to this examinate's house and denieth that he gave any message to the said Thomas Barker, save only that he should signify to his housekeeper where he this examinate was, and saith that Thomas Barker hath dwelt with him above a year past, and was commended to him by a friend of his being a Catholic, and refuseth to tell his name; and saith that both his said servants have been recusants ever since they dwelt with him.

“And confesseth that a book intituled Hieronymi Plati de Societate Jesu de bono statu religionis is his own, and that he caused the same to be bought at Cawood's shop in Paul's Churchyard, and saith that the book containeth nothing but true doctrine, and that he translated it through with his own hand—which [pg l] was found and yet remaineth—the book; and that his servant Richard Fulwood bought the same, and hath had it or the like by the space of these two years and more, and saith that certain of his friends[52] coming to him this examinate, he the said examinate commended the same book to them to be a good book, and delivered the same book to them, to be seen and read of, and saith within the said two years he this examinate bought divers of the said book and hath sent of the same to some of the examinate's friends, as namely to the Priests at Wisbech, that is to say, Father Edmonds, and to no other by name but to him, but generally to the Priests, which is about a year past: and that the said Father Edmonds returned thanks [in] answer to the examinate that he liked the book very well, and this book he sent and received answer by his said servant Thomas Barker, who was born in Norwich, and saith that this examinate hath read over the first and half the second of the said book unto the 12th chapter, and that he dare to take upon him to defend so much to be sound and true: and saith that this examinate was with Father Edmonds at Wisbech about Michaelmas last was twelve months, and there saw and spake with him both privately and in company.

“W. Wiseman.

“Examined by

“Edw. Coke

“Will. Danyell.

“Edw. Vaughan.

“R. Watson.

“Ryc. Young.”

VII.

“On learning the seizure of our house at London,” Father Gerard continues, “and my host's imprisonment, I went down to his country house to settle with his wife and friends what was to be done, and put all our effects in safe keeping. As we wanted the altar furniture for the approaching Easter, we sent very little of it to our friends. Of course I could not stay away from my entertainers at so holy a time, especially as they were in sorrow and trouble. In Holy Week the treacherous servant came from [pg li] London with a letter from his master, wherein the latter set forth all that had befallen him, the questions that had been put to him, and his answers. This letter, though seen, had been let pass for the credit of the bearer, to give him a chance of seeing whether I was in the house at this solemn season. He brought me another letter from my servant, whose capture I spoke of above. When from the traitor's information they knew him to be my servant, hoping to wrest from him the disclosure of his friends and abettors, they kept him in solitary confinement in the loathsome prison of Bridewell. The purport of the letter was how he had denied everything,[53] what threats had been held out to him, and what his sufferings were in prison. He had, he said, hardly enough black bread to keep him from starving; his abode was a narrow strongly-built cell, in which there was no bed, so that he had to sleep sitting on the window-sill, and was months without taking off his clothes. There was a little straw in the place, but it was so trodden down and swarming with vermin that he could not lie on it. But what was most intolerable to him was their leaving all that came from him in an open vessel in that narrow den, so that he was continually distressed and almost stifled by the smell. Besides all this, he was daily awaiting an examination by torture.

“While reading the letter to my hostess in presence of the traitor, I chanced to say at this last part, ‘I wish I could bear some of his tortures, so that there might be less for him.’ It was these words of mine that let us know later on who was the traitor, and author of all our woes. For when I was taken and questioned, and declared I was quite unacquainted with the family, those who were examining me forgot their secret, and cried out, ‘What lies you tell!—did you not say so-and-so before such a lady, as you read your servant's letter?’ But I still denied it, giving them [pg lii] good reasons, however, why, even if it had been true, I could and ought to have denied it.[54] But to take up the thread of my story.

“The traitor on his return to London informed our enemies of everything. Forthwith they sent two of their best messengers, or pursuivants as they call them, to two gentlemen of the county, who were Justices of the Peace, bidding them search the house carefully with their men. The traitor also returned on Easter Sunday, on pretence of bringing a fresh letter from London, but in reality to play into the hands of our enemies and acquaint them with our plans. On Easter Monday” [April 1, 1594], “on account of the dangers that threatened us, we rose before our usual hour, and were trying to get ready for Mass before sunrise, when suddenly we heard the noise of horses galloping, and of a multitude of men coming to surround the house and cut off all escape. Seeing what was going to happen, we had the doors kept fast. Meanwhile the ornaments were pulled off the altar, the hiding-places thrown open, my books and papers carried into them, and an effort was made to hide me and all my effects together. I wanted to get into a hiding-place near the dining-room, as well to be further from the chapel and the more suspicious part of the house, as because there was store of provisions there, to wit, a bottle of wine, and certain light but strengthening food, such as biscuit made to keep, &c. Moreover, I hoped to hear our enemies talk, wherein there might be something, perchance, which bore upon [pg liii] our interests. These reasons, then, moved me to choose that place, and, in sooth, it was very fit and safe for hiding in. But God so willed it, that the mistress of the house should in nowise agree. She would have me go into a place near the chapel, where the altar furniture could sooner be stowed with me. I yielded, though there was nothing there for me to eat in case the search should last long. I went in, then, after everything was safe that needed putting away.

“Scarcely had I done so, when the searchers broke down the door, and forcing their way in, spread through the house with great noise and racket. Their first step was to lock up the mistress of the house in her own room with her maids; and the Catholic servants they kept locked up in divers places in the same part of the house. They then took to themselves the whole house, which was of a good size, and made a thorough search in every part, not forgetting even to look under the tiles of the roof. The darkest corners they examined with the help of candles. Finding nothing whatever, they began to break down certain places that they suspected. They measured the walls with long rods, so that if they did not tally, they might pierce the part not accounted for. Thus they sounded the walls and all the boards, to find out and break into any hollow places that there might be.

“They spent two days in this work without finding anything. Thinking, therefore, that I had gone on Easter Sunday, the two magistrates went away on the second day, leaving the pursuivants to take the mistress of the house, and all her Catholic servants of both sexes, to London, to be examined and imprisoned. They meant to leave some who were not Catholics to keep the house, the traitor being one of them. The good lady was pleased at this, for she hoped that he would be the means of freeing me, and rescuing me from death: for she knew that I had made up my mind to suffer and die of starvation between two walls, rather than come forth and save my own life at the expense of others. In fact, during those four days that I lay hid, I had nothing to eat but a biscuit or two and a little quince jelly, which my hostess had at hand and gave me as I was going in. She did not look for any more, as she supposed that the search would not last [pg liv] beyond a day. But now that two days were gone, and she was to be carried off on the third with all her trusty servants, she began to be afraid of my dying of sheer hunger. She bethought herself then of the traitor, who she heard was to be left behind. He had made a great fuss and show of eagerness in withstanding the searchers, when they first forced their way in. For all that, she would not have let him know of the hiding-places, had she not been in such straits. Thinking it better, however, to rescue me from certain death, though it was at her own risk, she charged him, when she was taken away, and every one had gone, to go into a certain room, call me by my wonted name, and tell me that the others had been taken to prison, but that he was left to deliver me. I would then answer, she said, from behind the wainscot where I lay concealed.

“The traitor promised to obey faithfully, but was faithful only to the faithless, for he unfolded the whole matter to the ruffians who had been left behind. No sooner had they heard it, than they called back the magistrates who had departed. These returned early in the morning, and renewed the search. They measured and sounded everywhere, much more carefully than before, especially in the chamber above mentioned, in order to find out some hollow place. But finding nothing whatever during the whole of the third day, they purposed on the morrow to strip off all the wainscot of that room. Meanwhile they set guards in all the rooms about, to watch all night lest I should escape. I heard from my hiding-place the pass-word which the captain of the band gave to his soldiers, and I might have got off by using it, were it not that they would have seen me issuing from my retreat: for there were two on guard in the chapel where I got into my hiding-place, and several also in the large wainscotted room which had been pointed out to them.

“But mark the wonderful providence of God. Here was I in my hiding-place. The way I got into it was by taking up the floor, made of wood and bricks, under the fire-place. The place was so constructed that a fire could not be lit in it without damaging the house; though we made a point of keeping wood there, as if it were meant for a fire. Well, the men on the night-watch lit a fire in this very grate, and began chatting together [pg lv] close to it. Soon the bricks, which had not bricks but wood underneath them, got loose, and nearly fell out of their places, as the wood gave way. On noticing this and probing the bottom with a stick, they found that the bottom was made of wood; whereupon they remarked that this was something curious. I thought that they were going there and then to break open the place and enter; but they made up their minds at last to put off further examination till next day. Meanwhile, though nothing was further from my thoughts than any chance of escaping, I besought the Lord earnestly, that if it were for the glory of His Name, I might not be taken in that house, and so endanger my entertainers; nor in any other house, where others would share my disaster. My prayer was heard. I was preserved in that house in a wonderful manner; and when, a few days after, I was taken, it was without prejudice to any one, as shall be presently seen.

“Next morning, therefore, they renewed the search most carefully, everywhere except in the top chamber which served as a chapel, and in which the two watchmen had made a fire over my head, and had noticed the strange make of the grate. God had blotted out of their memory all remembrance of the thing. Nay, none of the searchers entered the place the whole day, though it was the one that was most open to suspicion, and if they had entered, they would have found me without any search; rather, I should say, they would have seen me, for the fire had burnt a great hole in my hiding-place, and had I not got a little out of the way, the hot embers would have fallen on me. The searchers, forgetting or not caring about this room, busied themselves in ransacking the rooms below, in one of which I was said to be. In fact, they found the other hiding-place to which I thought of going, as I mentioned before. It was not far off, so I could hear their shouts of joy when they first found it. But after joy comes grief; and so it was with them. The only thing that they found, was a goodly store of provision laid up. Hence they may have thought that this was the place that the mistress of the house meant; in fact, an answer might have been given from it to the call of a person in the room mentioned by her.

“They stuck to their purpose, however, of stripping off all the wainscot of the other large room. So they set a man to work [pg lvi] near the ceiling, close to the place where I was: for the lower part of the walls was covered with tapestry, not with wainscot. So they stripped off the wainscot all round, till they came again to the very place where I lay, and there they lost heart and gave up the search. My hiding-place was in a thick wall of the chimney, behind a finely laid and carved mantel-piece. They could not well take the carving down without risk of breaking it. Broken, however, it would have been, and that into a thousand pieces, had they any conception that I could be concealed behind it. But knowing that there were two flues, they did not think that there could be room enough there for a man. Nay, before this, on the second day of the search, they had gone into the room above, and tried the fire-place through which I had got into my hole. They then got into the chimney by a ladder to sound with their hammers. One said to another in my hearing, ‘Might there not be a place here for a person to get down into the wall of the chimney below, by lifting up this hearth?’ ‘No,’ answered one of the pursuivants, whose voice I knew, ‘you could not get down that way into the chimney underneath, but there might easily be an entrance at the back of this chimney.’ So saying, he gave the place a kick. I was afraid that he would hear the hollow sound of the hole where I was. But God, Who set bounds to the sea, said also to their dogged obstinacy, ‘Thus far shalt thou go, and no further;’ and He spared His sorely-stricken children, and gave them not up into their persecutors' hands, nor allowed utter ruin to light upon them for their great charity towards me.

“Seeing that their toil availed them naught, they thought that I had escaped somehow, and so they went away at the end of four days, leaving the mistress and her servants free. The yet unbetrayed traitor stayed after the searchers were gone. As soon as the doors of the house were made fast, the mistress came to call me, another four-days-buried Lazarus, from what would have been my tomb had the search continued a little longer. For I was all wasted and weakened, as well with hunger, as with want of sleep, and with having to sit so long in such a narrow place. The mistress of the house, too, had eaten nothing whatever during the whole time, not only to share my distress, and to try on herself how long I could live without food, but chiefly to draw [pg lvii] down the mercy of God on me, herself, and her family, by this fasting and prayer. Indeed, her face was so changed when I came out, that she seemed quite another woman, and I should not have known her but for her voice and her dress. After coming out, I was seen by the traitor, whose treachery was still unknown to us. He did nothing then, not even send after the searchers, as he knew that I meant to be off before they could be recalled.”

VIII.

“As soon as I had taken a little refreshment and rest, I set out and went to a friend's house, where I kept still for a fortnight. Then knowing that I had left my friends in great distress, I proceeded to London to aid and comfort them. I got a safe lodging with a person of rank.[55] A year ago it had been Father Southwell's abode, before his seizure and imprisonment in the Tower of London, where he now was. I wanted, however, to hire a house where I might be safe and unknown, and be free to treat with my friends; for I could not manage my business in a house that was not my own, especially in such a one as I then dwelt in. I had recourse to a servant of Father Garnett, named Little John,[56] an excellent man and one well able to help me. He it was that used to make our hiding-places; in fact, he made the one to which I owed my safety. Thanks to his endeavours, I found a house well suited for my purpose, and settled with my landlord about the rent. Till the house was furnished, I hired a room in my landlord's own house.[57] There I resolved to pass two or three nights in arranging my affairs, getting letters from my friends in distress, and writing back letters of comfort in return. Thus it was that the traitor got sent to the place, which [pg lviii] was only known to a small circle of friends. It was God's will that my hour should then come.

“One night, when Little John and I had to sleep in that room, the traitor had to bring a letter that needed an answer, and he left with the answer about ten o'clock. I had only come in about nine, sorely against the will of the lady, my entertainer, who was uncommonly earnest that I should not leave her house that night. Away went the traitor then, and gave information to the Priest-hunters both when and where he had left me. They got together a band, and came at midnight to the house, just as I had gone to sleep. Little John and I were both awakened by the noise outside. I guessed what it was, and told John to hide the letter received that night in the ashes where the fire had been. No sooner had he done so and got into bed again, than the noise which we had heard before seemed to travel up to our room. Then some men began knocking at the chamber-door, ready to break it in if it was not opened at once. There was no exit except by the door where our foes were; so I bade John get up and open the door. The room was at once filled with men, armed with swords and staves; and many more stood outside, who were not able to enter. Among the rest stood two pursuivants, one of whom knew me well, so there was no chance of my passing unknown.

“I got up and dressed, as I was bid. All my effects were searched, but without a single thing being found that could do harm to any man. My companion and I were then taken off to prison. By God's grace we did not feel distressed, nor did we show any token of fear. What I was most afraid of was, that they had seen me come out of that lady's house, and had tracked me to the room that I had hired; and so that the noble family that had harboured me would suffer on my account. But this fear was unfounded; for I learnt afterwards that the traitor had simply told them where he had left me, and there it was that they found me.

“The pursuivant who knew me, kept me in his house two nights; either because those who were to examine me were hindered from doing so on the first day, or (as it struck me afterwards) because they wished first to examine my companion, [pg lix] Little John. I noticed the first night, that the room where I was locked up was not far from the ground; and that it would be easy to let myself down from the window by tearing up the bedclothes and making a rope of them. I should have done so that very night, had I not heard some one stirring in the next room. I thought that he was put there to watch me, and so it turned out. However, I meant to carry out my plan the night after, if the watchman went away; but my keeper forestalled me; for to save the expense of a guard, he put irons on my arms, which prevented me from bringing my hands together and from separating them. Then in truth I was more at ease in mind, though less in body; for the thought of escape vanished, and there came in its place a feeling of joy that I had been vouchsafed this suffering for the sake of Christ, and I thanked the Lord for it as well as I could.

“Next day I was brought before the Commissioners, at the head of whom was one who is now Lord Chancellor of the realm.[58] He had been a Catholic, but went over to the other side, for he loved the things of this world.

“They first asked me my name and calling. I gave them the name I passed by; whereupon one called me by my true name, and said that I was a Jesuit. As I was aware that the pursuivant knew me, I answered that I would be frank and open in everything that belonged to myself, but would say nothing that could affect others. So I told them my name and calling, to wit that, though most unworthy, I was a Priest of the Society of Jesus.

“ ‘Who sent you into England?’ they asked.

“ ‘The Superiors of the Society.’

“ ‘To what end?’

“ ‘To bring back stray souls to their Creator.’

“ ‘No, no,’ said they; ‘you were sent for matters of State; and to lure people from the obedience of the Queen to the obedience of the Pope.’

“ ‘As for matters of State,’ I replied, ‘we are forbidden to have anything to say to them, as they do not belong to our Institute. This prohibition, indeed, extends to all the members of the Society; but on us Missioners it is particularly enjoined in a special instruction. As for the obedience due to the Queen and the Pope, each is to be obeyed in that wherein they have jurisdiction; and one obedience does not clash with the other, as England and all Christian realms have hitherto experienced.’

“ ‘How long have you been doing duty as a Priest in this country?’

“ ‘About six years.’

“ ‘How, and where, did you land, and where have you lived since your landing?’

“ ‘I cannot in conscience answer any of these questions,’ I replied, ‘especially the last, as it would bring mischief on others; so I crave pardon for not satisfying your wishes.’

“ ‘Nay,’ said they, ‘it is just on these heads that we chiefly desire you to satisfy us, and we bid you in the Queen's name to do so.’

“ ‘I honour the Queen,’ said I, ‘and will obey her and you in all that is lawful, but here you must hold me excused: for were I to mention any person or place where I have been lodged, the innocent would have to suffer, according to your laws, for the kind service they have done me. Such behaviour on my part would be against all justice and charity, and therefore I never will be guilty of it.’

“ ‘You shall do so by force, if not by goodwill.’

“ ‘I hope,’ I said, ‘by the grace of God, it shall not be as you say. I beg you, therefore, to take this my answer: that neither now nor at any other time will I disclose what you demand of me.’

“Thereupon they wrote a warrant for my imprisonment, and gave it to the pursuivants, bidding them take me to prison. As we were leaving, he who is now Chancellor said that I must be kept in close confinement, as in cases of high treason. ‘But tell the gaolers,’ he added, ‘to treat him well on account of his birth.’ It seems, however, that the head gaoler gave orders at variance with this humane recommendation: for I was lodged [pg lxi] in a garret,[59] where there was nothing but a bed, and no room to stand up straight, except just where the bed was. There was one window always open, through which foul air entered and rain fell on to my bed. The room door was so low, that I had to enter, not on my feet, but on my knees, and even then I was forced to stoop. However, I reckoned this rather an advantage, inasmuch as it helped to keep out the stench (certainly no small one) that came from the privy close to my door, which was used by all the prisoners in that part of the house. I was often kept awake, or woke up, by the bad smell.

“In this place I passed two or three days of true repose. I felt no pain or anxiety of mind, and enjoyed, by the blessing of God, that peace which the world does not and cannot give.

“On the third or fourth day, I was taken for a second examination to the house of a magistrate called Young. He it was who had the management of all the searches and persecutions that the Catholics in the neighbourhood of London had to endure; and it was to him that the traitor had given his information. Along with him was another, who had for many years conducted the examination by torture, Topcliffe by name. He was a man of cruelty, athirst for the blood of the Catholics, and so crafty and cunning, that all the wily wit of his companion seemed abashed into silence by his presence; in fact, the Justice spoke very little during the whole examination. I found the two of them alone: Young in a civilian's dress, Topcliffe with a sword by his side and in a Court dress. He was an old man, grown grey in wickedness. Young began questioning me as to my place of abode, and the Catholics that I knew. I answered that I neither could nor would make disclosures that would get any one into trouble, for reasons already stated. He turned then to Topcliffe and said, ‘I told you how you would find him.’

“Topcliffe looked frowningly at me and said, ‘Do you know [pg lxii] me? I am Topcliffe, of whom I doubt not you have often heard.’

“He meant this to frighten me. To heighten the effect, he had laid his sword on the table near his hand, as though he were ready to use it on occasion. But he failed certainly, and caused me not the least alarm; and whereas I was wont to answer with deference on other occasions, this time I did quite the contrary, because I saw him making a show to scare me. Finding that he could get no other manner of reply from me than what I had given, he took a pen and wrote an artful and malicious form of examination.

“ ‘Here,’ says he, ‘read this paper. I shall show it to the Privy Council, that they may see what a traitor you are to the realm, and how manifestly guilty.’

“The contents of the paper were as follows: ‘The examinate was sent by the Pope and the Jesuit Persons, and coming through Belgium there had interviews with the Jesuit Holt and Sir William Stanley; thence he came into England, on a political errand, to beguile the Queen's subjects, and lure them from their obedience to their Sovereign. If, therefore, he will not disclose the places and persons with whom he has lived, it is presumed that he has done much mischief to the State,’ &c.

“On reading this, I saw that I could not meet so many falsehoods with one single denial; and as I was desirous that he should show my way of answering to the Council, I said that I also wished to answer in writing. Hereat Topcliffe was overjoyed, and cried out, ‘Oh! now you are a reasonable man;’ but he was disappointed. He had hoped to catch me in my words, or at least to find out my handwriting, so that some of the papers found in the houses of the Catholics might be proved to be mine. I foresaw this, and therefore wrote in a feigned hand as follows: ‘I was sent by my Superiors. I never was in Belgium. I have not seen Father Holt since the time that I left Rome. I have not seen Sir William Stanley since he left England with the Earl of Leicester. I am forbidden to meddle with matters of State; I never have done, and never will do so. I have tried to bring back souls to the knowledge and love of their Creator, and to make them show obedience to the laws [pg lxiii] of God and man; and I hold this last point to be a matter of conscience. I humbly crave that my refusal to answer anything concerning the persons that I know, may not be set down to contempt of authority; seeing that God's commandment forces me to follow this course, and to act otherwise would be against justice and charity.’

“While I was writing this, the old man waxed wroth. He shook with passion, and would fain have snatched the paper from me.

“ ‘If you don't want me to write the truth,’ said I, ‘I'll not write at all.’

“ ‘Nay,’ quoth he, ‘write so-and-so, and I'll copy out what you have written.’

“ ‘I shall write what I please,’ I answered, ‘and not what you please. Show what I have written to the Council, for I shall add nothing but my name.’

“This I signed so near the writing, that nothing could be put in between. The hot-tempered man, seeing himself disappointed, broke out into threats and blasphemies. ‘I'll get you put into my power, and hang you in the air, and show you no mercy; and then I shall see what God will rescue you out of my hands.’

“From the abundance of his heart he poured forth these evil words; but by this he raised my hopes, just the opposite effect to what he wanted.[60] Neither then nor since have I ever reckoned aught of a blasphemer; and, in sooth, I have found by experience, that God increases the confidence of His servants, when He allows strife to rise up against them. I gave, therefore, this short answer: ‘You will be able to do nothing without the leave of God, Who never abandons those that hope in Him. The will of God be done.’

“Thereupon Young called the gaoler who had brought me, to take me back to prison. As he was leading me off, Topcliffe addressed him and bade him put irons on my legs. Both then [pg lxiv] fell a-chiding him for having brought me by himself, fearing perchance lest I should escape from his hands. When I had crept back to my little closet, my legs were garnished according to order. The man seemed grieved that put the fetters on. For my part, instead of grief I felt very much joy, such is God's goodness to the most unworthy of His creatures. To pay the man for the kind turn that he had done me, I gave him some money for his job; and told him it was no punishment to suffer in so good a cause.”

Father Garnett described this act of faith and courage in the following terms in a letter to the General of the Society, which we translate from the Italian: “This Father has always been very courageous, and when he was first taken, and the gaoler put very heavy irons on his legs, he gave him some money. The following day, the gaoler, thinking that if he took off the irons doubtless he would give him more, took them off, but got nothing. After some days he came to put them on again, and received a reward, and then taking them off did not get a farthing. They went on playing thus with one another several times, but at last the gaoler, seeing that he did not give him anything for taking off his irons, left him for a long time in confinement, so that the great toe of one foot was for almost two years in great danger of mortification. So your Reverence sees that in these times the courage of true Christian soldiers is not wanting. May our Lord give him perseverance, and to those who follow him the grace to imitate him.”[61]

IX.

“Here I stayed upwards of three months. During the first month I made from memory, as well as I could, the Spiritual Exercises; giving four and sometimes five hours a day to meditation. God lavished His goodness on me throughout, and I had proof that He opens His bounteous hands to His servants most of all when He has closed up the sources of earthly comfort to them.

“When I was quietly lodged in prison, without being brought out or undergoing any further examination for many days, they examined and put to the torture Richard Fulwood, whom the traitor had pointed out as my servant, and Little John, who had [pg lxv] been taken with me. Unable, either by coaxing or bribery, to draw anything from them that would compromise others, they had recourse to threats, and then to force: but the force of the Holy Ghost in them was too great to be overcome by men. They were both hung up for three hours together, having their arms fixed into iron rings, and their bodies hanging in the air; a torture which causes frightful pain and intolerable extension of the sinews. It was all to no purpose; no disclosure could be wrested from them that was hurtful to others; no rewards could entice, no threats or punishments force them, to discover where I or any of ours had been harboured, or to name any of our acquaintances or abettors.

“Here I ought not to pass over in silence God's great goodness and mercy to me, the most unworthy of all His servants. It was shown in this, that there was not a single traitor, either among those that were then seized in my house or in the house of the good gentleman, my entertainer; no, nor even among those that, in the other persecutions which by God's providence afterwards befel me, were imprisoned, tortured, and treated with the utmost cruelty. Not one of them, I say, ever yielded, but all, by the grace of God, held steadfast through everything. Those who were my companions, or the servants I intrusted with commissions to the gentlemen of my acquaintance, as they necessarily knew all my friends, would have been able to do very great mischief, and enrich themselves by ruining others: yet not one of them ever caused any harm either by word or deed, wittingly or unwittingly; nor, as far as I remember, did they ever give one cause of complaint. On many of them God, in His goodness, poured the choicest gifts of His Holy Spirit.

“John Lasnet, the first that I had, died in Spain a Lay-brother of the Society. The second that I had for some little while was Michael Walpole, who is now a Priest of the Society, and labouring in England. The third was named [Ralph] Willis. He had a vocation, so I sent him to study in the Seminary at Rhemes, where he went through his course of philosophy. His behaviour there was orderly, but afterwards at Rome he joined a turbulent party, thus returning evil for good. He was the only one of my helpmates that walked at all awry. [pg lxvi] He was, however, made Priest, and sent into England. There he was seized, and condemned to death for the Faith, and answered unflinchingly before the tribunal; but instead of losing his life, he was kept some time in prison; whence he effected his escape, and is still labouring in England.

“After him I had a godly man of the name of John Sutton, the brother of three Priests, one of whom was a martyr, and another died in the Society. Father Garnett kept him in his house for many years, up to the time of his own arrest.

“The next that I had was Richard Fulwood, of whom I have spoken above. He managed to make his escape, and during my imprisonment was employed by Father Garnett until that Father's happy death. He managed nearly all his master's business with strangers, not without the knowledge of the persecutors, who offered a handsome sum for his capture, and were still more anxious about it after Father Garnett was taken. In fact, they gave the poor man no peace until they drove him into banishment, where he yet remains, doing good service to our mission notwithstanding.

“After him I had John Lilly, a man well known at Rome; he died lately in England, a Lay-brother of the Society. Next came two other godly men, whom I did not take to keep, but merely as makeshifts till I could get a man every way suited to my wants, and endowed with a religious spirit. I found one at length; and when I quitted England, I took him with me, and left him at St. Omers. There he was well grounded in Greek and Latin, and became a great favourite with all the Fathers, who sent him into Spain with the highest recommendations. He still remains there, growing always in virtue and learning. Not long ago I had a letter from the Father Prefect of Studies, in which he tells me that he is the best student in his course.

“Such were the mercies of God vouchsafed to His unworthy servant, in answer to my constant prayers. Many gentlemen intrust themselves and their interests to our servants' good faith no less than to ours; so that there could be no greater let or hindrance to our good work, than any treachery on their part; indeed, the defection of such a one would be likely to cause the most frightful ruin among Catholics. For if one servant, and he [pg lxvii] neither a Catholic nor one of the household, like the traitor of whom I have spoken, made such havoc in his master's family, what mischief could a Priest's servant do to the many persons of high rank that had harboured him and his master! God has hitherto kept me free from the like betrayal.

“To return to my story. They could wrest nothing out of Little John and Fulwood; and none of my host's Catholic servants would make any avowal, or own that he knew me. Seeing that they could bring no witness against him, they gradually lost the hope they had of seizing his chattels and revenue.

“Sometimes they would bring me up for examination, when they had anything new against me. Once they called me to try on a suit of clothes, which had been found in my host's house, and which the traitor said were mine. I put them on, and they were just a fit, for the truth was that they had been made for me; however, I would not own them, nor admit them to be mine. Hereupon Young flew into a passion, called me a headstrong and unreasonable man. He was so barefaced as to add ‘How much more sensible is Southwell, who after long wilfulness is now ready to conform, and wishes to treat with some man of learning.’

“ ‘Nay,’ I answered, ‘I will never believe that Father Southwell wishes to treat with any one from any wavering in his faith, or to learn what to believe from a heretic; but he might perchance challenge any heretic to dispute with him that dared, as Father Campion did, and as many others would do if you would let them, and appoint proper umpires.’

“Then Young seized hold of the book, and kissing it, cried: ‘I swear upon this book that Southwell has offered to treat, with a view of embracing our religion.’

“ ‘I do not believe he ever did so,’ said I.

“ ‘What,’ said an officer of the Court, ‘do you not believe his oath?’

“ ‘No,’ was my reply, ‘I neither can nor will believe him; for I have a better opinion of Father Southwell's firmness than of his truthfulness; since perhaps he thinks that he is allowed to make this statement to beguile me.’

“ ‘No such thing,’ said Young; ‘but are you ready to conform [pg lxviii] if he has done so?’ (To conform, in their sense, means to embrace their deformed religion.)

“ ‘Certainly not,’ I answered; ‘for if I keep myself free from heresy and heretical meetings, it is not because he or any man on earth does the same; but because to act otherwise would be to deny Christ, by denying His faith, which may be done by deed as well as by word. This is what our Lord forbade under pain of a heavier punishment than man can inflict, when He said, “He that shall deny Me before men, him will I deny before My Father Who is in Heaven.” ’

“To this the heretic answered not a word, save that I was stiff-necked (a name that was applicable rather to himself), and bade them take me back to prison.

“Another time I was sent for to be confronted with three witnesses, servants of a certain nobleman named Lord Henry Seymour, son of the Duke of Somerset. They were heretics, and avouched that on a certain day I had dined with their mistress and her sister, while they, among others, waited at table. The two sisters were daughters of the Earl of Northumberland. One of them was a devout Catholic, and had come to London a little before my imprisonment to get my help in passing over to Belgium, there to consecrate herself to God. She was staying at the house of her sister, the wife of the aforesaid lord. She wanted to bring back this sister to the Catholic faith, which the latter had abandoned after her good father's death. I dined with them on the day the witnesses mentioned. It was in Lent; and they told how their mistress ate meat, while the Lady Mary and I ate nothing but fish. Young flung this charge in my teeth with an air of triumph, as though I could not help acknowledging it, and thereby disclosing some of my acquaintances. I answered that I did not know the men whom he had brought up.

“ ‘But we know you,’ said they, ‘to be the same that was at such a place on such a day.’

“ ‘You wrong your mistress,’ said I, ‘in saying so. I, however, will not so wrong her.’

“ ‘What a barefaced fellow you are!’ exclaimed Young.

“ ‘Doubtless,’ I answered, ‘were these men's statements true. As for me, I cannot in conscience speak positively in the matter, [pg lxix] for reasons that I have often alleged; let them look to the truth and justice of what they say.’

“Young then, in a rage, remanded me to prison.

“After three months some of my friends made efforts to have me removed to another more comfortable prison, seeing that nothing could be proved against me except my Priesthood; and this they obtained by means of a handsome bribe to Young. So they sent to my prison, which was called the Counter, and took off my fetters. These were rusty when they were first put on; but by wearing and moving about in them every day, I had rendered them quite bright and shining. My cell was so small, that a man who had his legs free, might take the whole length of it in three steps. I used to shuffle from one end to the other, as well for exercise, as because the people underneath used to sing lewd songs and Geneva psalms; and I wanted to drown by the clanking of my chain a noise that struck still more harshly on my ear. My fetters then being removed, and my expenses paid (which were not great, as I had had little but butter and cheese to season my bread withal), they brought me before Young, who, making a show of anger, began to chide and upbraid me more than was his wont, and asked me whether I was yet willing to acknowledge where and with whom I had lived. I answered that I could not do so with a safe conscience, and therefore would not.

“ ‘Well then,’ said he, ‘I will put you in closer confinement, where you shall be safer lodged, and have iron bars before your window.’

“Forthwith he wrote a warrant, and sent me to the prison that is called the Clink.[62] He made all this show, that he might not appear to have taken money for what he did. The fact was, that the prison to which I was now sent was far better than the other, and more comfortable for all prisoners; but to me it afforded especial comfort, on account of the great number of Catholics whom I found there.

“They could not now hinder me from approaching the Sacraments, and being comforted in divers other ways, as I shall afterwards show; for when I had been there a few months, the place was by God's grace so improved, that as for discharging all the duties of the Society, I should never wish to be at large in England, provided I could always live in the like prison and after the like fashion.[63] So my being shut up in the Clink seemed like a change from Purgatory to Paradise. Instead of lewd songs and blasphemies, the prayers of some Catholic neighbours in the next room met my ear. They came to my door to cheer me up, and showed me a way by which we could open a free communication. This was through a hole in the wall, which they had covered with a picture, that it might not be seen. By means of it they gave me on the morrow a letter from my friends; and at the same time furnished me with materials for writing back. I wrote, therefore, to Father Garnett, and told him the whole truth of what had happened to me, and what manner of replies I had made, as I have set forth above.”

“I also confessed, and received the Most Holy Body of Christ, through that same hole. But I had not to do this long, for the Catholics contrived to fashion a key that would open my door; and then every morning, before the gaoler got up, they brought me to another part of the prison, where I said Mass, and administered the Sacraments to the prisoners lodged in that quarter; for all of them had got keys of their cells.

“I had just such neighbours as I would have picked out had I had my choice. My next-door neighbour was our Brother, Ralph Emerson, of whom Father Campion, in a letter to Father General, makes mention in these terms, ‘My little man and I.’ He was indeed small in body,[64] but in steadfastness and endurance [pg lxxi] he was great. He had been already many long years in bonds, ever keeping godly and devout, like a man of the Society: and after my coming to the Clink, he remained six or seven years more. At last he was sent off, with other confessors of Christ, to the Castle of Wisbech, where he was attacked with palsy. One half of his body was powerless, so that he could not move about or do the least thing for himself. He lived, notwithstanding, to add by his patience fresh jewels to the crown that awaited him. Being driven into banishment with the same company, he came to St. Omers, and died a holy death there, to the great edification of the by-standers. I found this good Brother my next neighbour in the Clink; overhead I had John Lilly, whom God's providence had shut up there for his own good and mine. I had other godly men around me, all true to their faith.

“These having the free run of the prison, any one might visit them without danger. I arranged, therefore, that when any of my friends came to the prison, they should ask to see one of these; and thus they got to have talk with me without its being noticed. I did not, however, let them into my room, but spoke to them through the aforesaid hole.

“So I passed some time in great comfort and repose; striving the while to gather fruit of souls, by letter and by word of mouth. My first gaoler was a sour-tempered man, who watched very closely to see that there were no unlawful doings amongst us. This called for great wariness on our part, to avoid discovery; but ere long God summoned him from the wardenship of the prison, and from the prison of his body at the same time.

“His successor was a younger man of a milder turn. What with coaxing, and what with bribes, I got him not to look into our doings too nicely, and not to come when he was not called for, except at certain fixed times, at which he always found me ready to receive him.

“I used the liberty thus granted me for my neighbour's profit. I began to hear many confessions, and reconciled many persons to the Catholic Church. Some of them were heretics, but the greater number were only schismatics, as I could deal more freely with these than with the others. It was only after long acquaintance, and on the recommendation of trusty friends, that [pg lxxii] I would let any heretics know how little restraint was put upon me. I do not remember above eight or ten converts from heresy, of whom four entered Religion. Two joined our Society, and the other two went into other Orders. As for schismatics, I brought back a goodly number of them to the bosom of the Church. Some became Religious: and others gave themselves to good works in England during the persecution. Of these last was Mr. John Rigby, afterwards martyred.”[65]

X.

“During my stay in this prison, I found means to give the Spiritual Exercises. The gaoler did as I wished him to do; he never came to me without being called, and never went into my neighbours' rooms at all. So we fitted an upper chamber to serve as a chapel, where six or seven made the Exercises, all of whom resolved to follow the counsels of Christ our Lord, and not one of them flinched from his purpose.

“I found means also to provide for a very pressing need. Many Priests of my acquaintance, being unable to meet with safe lodgings when they came to London, used to put up at inns till they had settled the business that brought them. Again, as my abode was fixed, and easy to find, the greater part of the Priests that were sent from the Seminaries abroad had instructions to apply to me, that through me they might be introduced to their Superior, and might receive other assistance at my hands. Not having always places prepared, nor houses of Catholics to which I could send them, I rented a house and garden in a suitable spot, and furnished it, as far as was wanted, by the help of my friends. Thither I used to send those who brought letters of recommendation from our Fathers, and who I was assured led a holy life and seemed well fitted for the mission. I maintained them there till I had supplied them, through the aid of certain friends, with clothes and necessaries, sometimes even with a residence, or with a horse to go to their friends and kinsmen in the country. I covered all the expenses of this house with the [pg lxxiii] alms that were bestowed on me. I did not receive alms from many persons, still less from all that came to see me; indeed, both out of prison and in prison, I often refused such offers. I was afraid that if I always accepted what was offered, I might scare from me souls that wished to treat with me on the business of their salvation; or receive gifts from those that could either ill afford it, or would afterwards repent of it. I made it a rule, therefore, never to take alms except from a small number of persons, whom I knew well. Most of what I got was from those devoted friends, who offered me not only their money but themselves, and looked upon it as a favour when I took their offer.

“I gave charge of this house to a very godly and discreet matron of good birth, whom the Lord honoured with martyrdom.[66] Her maiden name was Heigham, but she bore the name of Line from her deceased husband. Both she and her husband were beloved by God, and had much to suffer for His sake. This lady's father was a Protestant, and when he heard of his daughter's becoming a Catholic, he withheld the dower which he had promised her. He disinherited one of his sons for the same reason. This son, called William Heigham, is now in Spain, a Lay-brother of the Society. It is twenty-six years since I knew him. He was then a well-educated gentleman, finely dressed like other high-born Londoners. He supported a Priest named Thomson, whom I afterwards saw martyred. As soon as his father learned that he, too, had become a Catholic, he went and sold his estate, the rents of which were reckoned at 6,000 florins [600l.] yearly, that it might not pass to his son. The son was afterwards arrested for the Faith; and he and his Priest together, if I mistake not, were thrown into the prison of Bridewell, where vagrants are shut up and put to hard labour under the lash. I paid him a visit there, and found him toiling at the tread-mill, all covered with sweat. On recovering his freedom he hired himself out as a servant to a gentleman, that had to wife a [pg lxxiv] Catholic lady whom I knew. She intrusted her son to his care: he taught the boy the ground-work of the Latin tongue, besides giving him lessons on the harp, which he himself touched admirably. I went to see him in this situation, and had a long talk with him about his call to his present state.

“Mistress Line, his sister, married a good husband and a staunch Catholic. He had been heir to a fine estate; but his father or uncle (for he was heir to both) sent a message from his death-bed to young Line, then a prisoner for the Faith, asking him to conform and go to some heretical church for once; otherwise he would have to give up his inheritance to his younger brother. ‘If I must either give up God or the world,’ was his courageous answer, ‘I prefer to give up the world, for it is good to cleave unto God.’ So both his father's and his uncle's estate went to his younger brother. I saw this latter once in his elder brother's room, dressed in silk and other finery, while his brother had on plain and mean clothes. This good man afterwards went into Belgium, where he obtained a pension from the King of Spain, part of which he sent to his wife; and thus they lived a poor and holy life. His death, which happened in Belgium, left his widow friendless, so that she had to look to Providence for her support. Before my imprisonment she had been charitably taken by my entertainers into their own house. They furnished her with board and lodging, and I made up the rest.

“She was just the sort of person that I wanted as head of the house that I have spoken of, to manage the money matters, take care of the guests, and meet the inquiries of strangers. She had good store of charity and wariness, and in great patience she possessed her soul. She was nearly always ill from one or other of many divers diseases, which purified her and made her ready for Heaven. She used often to say to me: ‘Though I desire above all things to die for Christ, I dare not hope to die by the hand of the executioner; but perhaps the Lord will let me be taken some time in the same house with a Priest, and then be thrown into a chill and filthy dungeon, where I shall not be able to last out long in this wretched life.’ Her delight was in the Lord, and the Lord granted her the desires of her heart.

“When I was rescued out of prison, she gave up the management [pg lxxv] of my house; for then so many people knew who she was, that her being in a place was enough to render it unsafe for me. So a room was hired for her in another person's house, where she often used to harbour Priests. One day (it was the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin) she let in a great many Catholics to hear Mass, a thing which she would never have done in my house. Good soul, she was more careful of me than of herself. Some neighbours noticed the throng, and called the constables. They went upstairs into the room, which they found full of people. The celebrant was Father Francis Page, S.J., who was afterwards martyred.[67] He had pulled off his vestments before the Priest-hunters came in; so that they could not readily make out which was the Priest. However, from the Father's grave and modest look, they thought that he must be their man. Accordingly, they laid hold of him, and began questioning him and the others also. No one would own that there was a Priest there; but as the altar had been found ready for Mass, they acknowledged that they had been waiting for a Priest to come. While the Catholics and their persecutors were wrangling on this point, Father Francis Page, taking advantage of some one's opening the door, got away from those that held him and slipped out, shutting the door behind him. He then went upstairs to a place that he knew, where Mrs. Line had had a hiding-place made, and there he ensconced himself. Search was made for him the whole house over, to no purpose.

“So they took Mrs. Line and the richer ones of the party to prison, and let the others go on bail. God lengthened out the martyr's life beyond her expectation. It was some months before she was brought to trial, on a charge of harbouring and supporting Priests. To the question of ‘guilty or not guilty,’ she made no direct answer, but cried out in a loud voice, so that all could hear her: ‘My lords, nothing grieves me, but that I could not receive a thousand more.’[68] She listened to the sentence of death with great show of joy and thanksgiving to the Lord God. She was so weak, that she had to be carried to Court in [pg lxxvi] a chair, and sat there during the whole of the trial. After her return to prison, a little before her death, she wrote to Father Page, who had escaped. The letter is in my hands at present. She disposed therein of the few things that she had, leaving to me a fine large cross of gold that had belonged to her husband. She mentioned me thrice in the letter, calling me her Father. She also left some few debts which she begged me to see paid. Afterwards she bequeathed me her bed by word of mouth. I wanted to purchase it from the gaolers, who had plundered everything found in her cell after her death; but I could only get the coverlet, which I used ever after during my stay in London, and reckoned it no small safeguard.

“Being arrived at the place of punishment, some preachers wanted to tease her, as usual, with warnings to abandon her errors; but she cut them short, saying, ‘Away! I have no dealings nor communion with you.’ Then, kissing the gallows with great joy, she knelt down to pray, and kept on praying till the hangman had done his duty. So she gave up her soul to God, along with the martyr Father Filcock, S.J.,[69] who had often been her confessor, and had always been her friend. Her martyrdom, however, happened six or seven years after the time of which I am now speaking. She managed my house for three years, and received therein many holy Priests.”

“I always had a Priest residing in this house, whom I used to send to assist and console my friends, as I was unable, during my imprisonment, to visit them myself. The first I had there was Father Jones, a Franciscan Recollect, afterwards martyred,[70] but then newly arrived in England.... After him I received another Priest, lately arrived from Spain, and formerly known to me, Robert Drury by name. He was of gentle birth and well educated, and could consequently associate with gentlemen without causing any suspicion. I introduced him, therefore, to my chief friends; and he assisted them well and zealously for [pg lxxvii] two years and more that he tarried in my house. This good Priest also God chose to be His witness and martyr....”

“In that house of mine, while I was in prison, there lived awhile one of our Fathers, who was in ill health, Father John Curry. There also he died, and there he lies buried in some secret corner. For those Priests who live secretly on the mission, we are obliged also to bury secretly when they die.

“All this while my good host, who had been taken a little before me, was kept imprisoned; and for the first four months so straitly, that neither his wife nor any of his friends were allowed to have any access to him. After this, however, the persecutors, seeing that they could not produce any proof against him, because none of the Catholic servants would acknowledge anything and the traitor had never seen me in Priest's guise, and was only one witness after all, by degrees relaxed a little of their harshness, and permitted him to be visited and cared for, though they still kept him in strict custody.

“While thus close shut up, he wrote a work by no means contemptible, which he divided into three parts, and called ‘Three Farewells to the world, or three deaths in different states of soul.’[71] In the first book he described a man of moral life, and virtuous in the opinion of men, but directing himself in all things by his own lights.... In the second book he described a good and pious lady, who at first wished to be guided in everything, but subsequently, deceived by the devil, determined in some things to follow her own ideas.... In the third book he described the death of a pious and devoted man, who, though living in the world and possessed of riches, yet always sought and followed the counsels of his spiritual Father, manifesting himself entirely for the purpose of being directed by him to the greater glory of God.” ...

“It was written, not with ink, but merely with pencil, upon loose scraps of paper, for at that time he was kept so close that he could get no ink. As he finished each of the three parts, he sent it to me, that I might correct anything I might find against sound doctrine. He gave as a reason for writing the work, that he had himself found, as he thought, so immense [pg lxxviii] a benefit from giving himself thoroughly to the direction of his spiritual guide, and had felt in consequence so undisturbed a peace of mind, even when the malice of the persecutors was daily threatening him with death, that he could not refrain from recommending the same course to others whom he loved. He said, moreover, that he wrote the book, not for the public, but principally for his own family, and secondly for his relations and friends; for that, as he could not communicate with them by word of mouth, he desired to show them in writing the most secure and meritorious way to perfection while living in the world. For he endeavoured to prove that perfection was even more necessary for those who lived in the world than for Religious.

“Such were the sentiments of this good man. He noways regretted that he had during four years given himself up to my direction, though he found himself in consequence exposed to such extreme distresses, and saw his family and fortune made a mark for the persecutors as a result of having harboured me. Nay, it was not only that he bore all these trials patiently, but he really thought it all joy to suffer thus for the good cause. His wife, also, though she loved her husband most tenderly, and was of a peculiarly sensitive mind, yet in this juncture bore everything with a singular sweetness and patience. After I was transferred to the Clink, where there was more chance of communicating with me either by word or letter, she took a house in the immediate neighbourhood of my prison, in order that she might consult me constantly, and provide me with everything I needed. In this house she and her husband, who obtained his release after a time by large payments of money, resided while I remained in that prison. But after my escape from the Tower, they betook themselves back to their country seat, in order that they might have me with them there again.”

XI.

“In the meantime, I was so fully taken up in the prison with business, and with the visits of Catholics, that in the next room, which was Brother Emerson's, there were often six or eight persons at once, waiting their turn to see me. Nay, many of my most intimate and attached friends have oft-times had to wait [pg lxxix] many hours at a stretch, and even then I have been obliged to ask them to come another time....”

“While I remained in this prison, I sent over numbers of boys and young men to Catholic Seminaries abroad. Some of these are, at this present, Priests of the Society, and engaged on the English mission: others still remain in the Seminaries, in positions of authority, to assist in training labourers for the same field. On one occasion I had sent two boys on their way to St. Omers, and had given them letters of recommendation, written with lemon-juice, so that the writing was not visible on the paper. In the paper itself I wrapped up a few collars, so that it might seem that its only use was to keep the collars clean. The boys were taken, and on being questioned, confessed that I had sent them. They let it out also that I had given them this letter, and had told them, when they came to a certain College of ours, on their way to St. Omers (for they had to pass by Ostend, which is not the usual way, and thus they came to be taken), to bid the Fathers steep the paper in water, and they would be able to read what I had written. On this information, then, the paper was steeped by the authorities, and two letters of mine were read, written on the same paper. One was written in Latin to our Belgian Fathers; this I had consequently signed with my own proper name. The other was addressed to our English Fathers at St. Omers. The letters having been thus discovered, I was sent for to be examined.

“Young, however, was no longer to be my examiner. He had died in his sins, and that most miserably. As he lived, so he died:[72] he lived the devil's confessor, he died the devil's martyr; for not only did he die in the devil's service, but he brought on his death through that very service. He was accustomed to work night and day to increase the distress of the Catholics, and to go forth frequently in inclement weather, at one or two o'clock in the morning, to search their houses. By these labours he fell into a consumption,[73] of which he died. He died, moreover, overwhelmed [pg lxxx] with debt, so that it might be clear that he abandoned all things for the devil's service. Notwithstanding all the emoluments of his office, all the plunder he took from the persecuted Catholics, and the large bribes they were constantly giving him to buy off his malicious oppression, his debts were said to amount to no less a sum than a hundred thousand florins [10,000l.]; and I have heard even a larger sum mentioned than this. Perhaps he expected the Queen would pay his debts; but she did nothing of the sort. All she did was once to send a gentleman from Court to visit him, when he was confined to his bed, and near death; and this mark of favour so delighted him, that he seemed ready to sing Nunc dimittis. But it was a false peace, and the lifting up of the soul that goes before a fall; and like another Aman, he was bidden not to a banquet, but to execution, and that for ever. So with his mouth full of the Queen's praises, and his great obligations to Her Majesty, he died a miserable death, and anguish took the place of his joy. The joy of the hypocrite is but for an instant.

“This man's successor in the office of persecuting and harassing the servants of God, was William Wade, now Governor of the Tower of London, but at that time Secretary to the Lords of the Council. For the members of the Council choose always to have a man in their service to whose cruelty anything particularly odious may be attributed, instead of its being supposed to be done by their warrant. This Wade then sent for me, and first of all showed me the blank paper that I had given to the boys, and asked me if I recognized it. I answered, ‘No, I did not.’ And in fact I did not recognize it, for I did not know the boys had been taken. Then he dipped the paper in a basin of water, and showed me the writing, and my name subscribed in full. When I saw it, I said: ‘I do not acknowledge the writing. Any one may easily have counterfeited my handwriting and forged my signature; and if such boys as you speak of have been taken, they may perhaps in their terror say anything that their examiners want them to say, to their own prejudice and that of their friends; a thing I will never do. At the same time, I do not deny that it would be a good deed to send such boys abroad to be better educated; and I would gladly do it if I had the means; [pg lxxxi] but closely confined as I am in prison, I cannot do anything of the kind, though I should like to do it.’

“He replied to me with a torrent of abuse for denying my signature and handwriting, and said: ‘In truth, you have far too much liberty; but you shall not enjoy it long.’ Then he rated the gaoler soundly for letting me have so much liberty.

“I was sent for on two or three other occasions, to be examined; and whenever I came out of this prison, I always wore a Jesuit's cassock and cloak,[74] which I had had made as soon as I came among Catholic fellow-prisoners. The sight of this dress raised mocks from the boys in the streets, and put my persecutors in a rage. On the first occasion, they said I was a hypocrite. I replied: ‘When I was arrested, you called me a courtier, and said that I had dressed myself in that fashion in order to disguise my real character, and to be able to deal with persons of rank in safety, and without being recognized. I told you then, that I did not like a layman's dress, and would much rather wear my own. Well, now I am doing so; and you are in a rage again. In fact, you are not satisfied with either piping or mourning, but you seek excuses for inveighing against me.’

“To this they answered: ‘Why did you not go about in this dress before, instead of wearing a disguise, and taking a false name? A thing no good man would do.’

“I replied: ‘I am aware you would like us not to do so, in order that we might be arrested at once, and not be able to do any good in the work of rescuing and gaining souls. But do you not know that St. Raphael personated another, and took another name, in order that, not being known, he might better accomplish God's work for which he had been sent?’

“At another time I was examined before the Dean of Westminster, the dignitary who has taken the place of the former Abbot of the great royal monastery there. Topcliffe and some other Commissioners were present. Their object was to confront me with the good widow, my host's mother, of whom I have before spoken, and who was confined at this time in a prison[75] near the church at Westminster, for she was not yet condemned to death; that happened later. They wanted to see if she recognized me. So when I came into the room where they brought me, I found her already there. When she saw me coming in with the gaolers, she almost jumped for joy; but she controlled herself, and said to them: ‘Is that the person you spoke of? I do not know him; but he looks like a Priest.’

“Upon this she made me a very low reverence, and I bowed in return. Then they asked me if I did not recognize her?

“I answered: ‘I do not recognize her. At the same time, you know this is my usual way of answering, and I will never mention any places, or give the names of any persons that are known to me (which this lady, however, is not); because to do so, as I have told you before, would be contrary both to justice and charity.’

“Then Topcliffe said: ‘Tell the truth; have you reconciled any persons to the Church of Rome?’

“I quite understood his bloodthirsty intention, that being a thing expressly prohibited under penalty of high treason; but then I knew I was already as much compromised on account of my Priesthood, and therefore I answered boldly: ‘Yes, in truth, I have received some persons, and am sorry that I have not done this good service to more.’

“ ‘Well,’ said Topcliffe, ‘how many would you like to have reconciled, if you could? A thousand?’

“ ‘Certainly,’ I said, ‘a hundred thousand, and many more still, if I could.’

“ ‘That would be enough,’ said Topcliffe, ‘to levy an army against the Queen.’

“ ‘Those whom I reconciled,’ said I, ‘would not be against the Queen, but all for her; for we hold that obedience to superiors is of obligation.’

“ ‘No such thing,’ said Topcliffe, ‘you teach rebellion. See, I have here a Bull of the Pope, granted to Sanders[76] when he went to Ireland to stir up the Queen's subjects to rebellion. See, here it is. Read it.’

“I answered: ‘There is no need to read it. It is likely enough that the Pontiff, if he sent him, gave him authority. But I have no power to meddle at all in such matters. We are forbidden to have anything to do with such things. I never have, and never will.’

“ ‘Take and read it,’ he said; ‘I will have you read it.’

“So I took it, and seeing the name of Jesus on the top, I reverently kissed it.

“ ‘What,’ said Topcliffe, ‘you kiss a Bull of the Pope, do you?’

“ ‘I kissed,’ said I, ‘the name of Jesus, to which all love and honour are due. But if it is a Bull of the Pope, as you say, I reverence it also on that score.’

“And so saying, I kissed the printed paper again. Then Topcliffe, in a furious passion, began to abuse me in indecent terms.... At this insolence, to own the truth, I somewhat lost command of myself; and though I knew that he had no grounds which seemed probable even to himself for what he said, but had uttered it from pure malice, I exclaimed: ‘I call the Great and Blessed God to witness, that all your insinuations are false.’

“And, as I spoke, I laid my hand on the book that was open before me on the table. It was a copy of the Holy Bible, but according to their corrupt translation into the vulgar tongue. Then Topcliffe held his peace; but the Dean took up the word. ‘Are you willing,’ said he, ‘to be sworn on our Bible?’ The better instructed Catholics, who can show the dishonesty of that translation, usually refuse this.

“I replied: ‘In truth, under the necessity of rebutting this man's false charges at once, I did not take notice what version this was. However, there are some truths, as, for instance, the Incarnation and Passion of Christ, that have not been corrupted by mistranslation; and by these I call the truth of God to witness. There are many other things falsely rendered, so as to involve heresies; and these I detest and anathematize.’

“So saying, I laid my hand again upon the book, and more firmly than before. The old man was angry and said: ‘I will prove that you are a heretic.’

“I replied: ‘You cannot prove it.’

“ ‘I will prove it,’ he said, ‘thus: Whoever denies Holy Scripture is a heretic; you deny this to be Holy Scripture: Ergo.’

“I replied: ‘This is no true syllogism; it shifts from general to particular, and so has four terms.’

“The old man answered: ‘I could make syllogisms before you were born.’

“ ‘Very likely,’ I said; ‘but the one you have just produced is not a true one.’

“However, the good old man[77] would not try a new middle term, and made no further attempt to prove me a heretic. But one urged one thing, and another another, not in the way of argument, but after their usual plan, asking me such questions as they knew very well I did not like to answer; and then, in the end, they sent me back to prison.”

XII.

“On another occasion they examined me, and all the other Catholics that were confined in the same prison with me, in a public place called Guildhall, where Topcliffe and several other Commissioners were present. When they had put their usual questions, and received from me the usual answers, they came to the point, intending, I imagine, to sound us all as to our feelings towards the State, or else to entrap us in some expressions about the State that might be made matter of accusation. They asked me, then, whether I acknowledged the Queen as the true Governor and Queen of England.

“I answered: ‘I do acknowledge her as such.’

“ ‘What,’ said Topcliffe, ‘in spite of Pius V.'s excommunication?’

“I answered: ‘I acknowledge her as our Queen, notwithstanding I know there is such an excommunication.’

“The fact was, I knew that the operation of that excommunication had been suspended for all in England by a declaration of the Pontiff, till such time as its execution became possible.

“Topcliffe proceeded: ‘What would you do in case the Pope sent an army into England, asserting that the object was solely to bring back the kingdom to the Catholic religion, and protesting that there was no other way left of introducing the Catholic faith, and, moreover, commanding all in virtue of his Apostolical authority to aid his cause? Whose side would you then take, the Pope's or the Queen's?’

“I saw the malicious man's cunning, and that his aim was, that whichever way I answered I might injure myself, either in soul or body; and so I worded my reply thus: ‘I am a true Catholic, and a true subject of the Queen. If, then, this were to happen, which is unlikely, and which I think will never be the case, I would act as became a true Catholic and a true subject.’

“ ‘Nay, nay,’ said he; ‘answer positively and to the point.’

“ ‘I have declared my mind,’ said I, ‘and no other answer will I make.’

“On this he flew into a most violent rage, and vomited out a torrent of curses; and ended by saying: ‘You think you will creep to kiss the Cross this year; but before the time comes, I will take good care you do no such thing.’

“He meant to intimate, in the abundance of his charity, that he would take care I should go to Heaven by the rope before that time. But he had not been admitted into the secrets of God's sanctuary, and did not know my great unworthiness. Though God had permitted him to execute his malice on others, whom the Divine Wisdom knew to be worthy and well prepared, as on Father Southwell and others, whom he pursued to the death, yet no such great mercy of God came to me from his anger. Others indeed, for whom a kingdom was prepared by the Father, were advanced to Heaven by our Lord Jesus [pg lxxxvi] through his means; but this heavenly gift was too great for an angry man to be allowed to bestow on me. However, he was really in some sort a prophet in uttering these words, though he meant them differently from the sense in which they were fulfilled.

“What I have mentioned happened about Christmas. In the following Lent, he himself was thrown into prison for disrespect to the members of the Queen's Council, on an occasion, if I mistake not, when he had pleaded too boldly in behalf of his only son, who had killed a man with his sword in the great hall of the Court of Queen's Bench. This took place about Passion Sunday. We, then, who were in prison for the Faith, seeing our enemy, Aman, about to be hanged on his own gibbet, began to lift up our heads, and to use what liberty we had a little more freely, and we admitted a greater number to the Sacraments, and to assist at the services and holy rites of the Church. Thus it was that on Good Friday a large number of us were together in the room over mine, in fact, all the Catholics in the prison, and a number of others from without. I had gone through all the service, and said all the prayers appointed for the day, up to the point where the Priest has to lay aside his shoes. I had put them off, and had knelt down, and was about to creep towards the Cross and make the triple adoration of it; when, lo! just as I had moved two paces, the head gaoler came and knocked at the door of my room underneath, and as I did not answer from within, he began to batter violently at the door and make a great noise. As soon as I heard it, I knew that the chief gaoler was there, because no other would have ventured to behave in that way to me: so I sent some one to say that I would come directly, and then, instead of going on with the adoration of the material Cross, I hastened to the spiritual cross that God presented to me, and taking off the sacred vestments that I was wearing, I went down with speed, for fear the gaoler might come up after me, and find a number of others, who would thus have been brought into trouble. When he saw me, he said in a loud tone of voice: ‘How comes it that I find you out of your room, when you ought to be kept strictly confined to it?’

“As I knew the nature of the man, I pretended, in reply, to [pg lxxxvii] be angry, that one who professed to be a friend should have come at such a time as that, when, if ever, we were bound to be busy at our prayers.

“ ‘What,’ said he, ‘you were at Mass, were you? I will go and see.’

“ ‘No such thing,’ I said; ‘you seem to know very little of our ways. There is not a single Mass said to-day throughout the whole Church. Go up if you like; but understand that, if you do, neither I nor any one of the Catholics will ever pay anything for our rooms. You may put us all, if you like, in the common prison of the poor who do not pay. But you will be no gainer by that; whereas, if you act in a friendly way with us, and do not come upon us unawares in this manner, you will not find us ungrateful, as you have not found us hitherto.’

“He softened down a little at this; and then I said: ‘What have you come for now, I pray.’

“ ‘Surely,’ said he, ‘to greet you from Master Topcliffe.’

“ ‘From him?’ I said; ‘and how is it that he and I are such great friends? Is he not in such a prison? He cannot do anything against me just now, I fancy.’

“ ‘No,’ said the gaoler, ‘he cannot. But he really sends to greet you. When I visited him to-day, he asked me how you were. I replied that you were very well. “But he does not bear his imprisonment,” said Master Topcliffe, “as patiently as I do mine. I would have you greet him, then, in my name, and tell him what I have said.” So I have come now for the purpose of repeating his message to you.’

“ ‘Very well,’ I replied. ‘Now tell him from me, that by the grace of God I willingly bear my imprisonment for the cause of the Faith, and I could wish his cause were the same.’

“Thereupon the gaoler went away, rating his servant, however, for not having kept me more closely confined. And thus Topcliffe really accomplished what he had promised, having checked me in the very act of adoration, although without thinking of what he said, and with another intent at the time. Thus was Saul among the prophets. However, he did not prevent my going up again and completing what I had begun.

“The man who had charge of my room would not do anything [pg lxxxviii] in our rooms without my leave. And after my first gaoler, who soon died, the others who succeeded were well disposed to oblige me. One of them, who had the gaolership by inheritance, I made a Catholic. He immediately gave up his post and sold the right of succession, and became the attendant of a Catholic gentleman, a friend of mine, and afterwards accompanied his son to Italy, and got a vocation to the Religious state. At present he is a prisoner in the very prison where he had been my gaoler. The next who had the charge of me after him, being a married man with children, was kept by fear of poverty from becoming a Catholic; but yet he was afterwards so attached to myself and all our friends, that he received us into his own house, and sometimes concealed there such Catholics as were more sorely pressed than others by the persecution. And when I was to be got out of the Tower of London, with serious risk to all who aided the enterprise, he himself in person was one of the three who exposed themselves to such great danger. And although he was nearly drowned the first night of the attempt, he rowed the boat the next night as before, as I shall hereafter relate. For not long after what I just now mentioned, I was removed from that prison to the Tower of London; the occasion of which was the following.”

XIII.

“There was in the prison with me a certain Priest,[78] to whom I had done many good services. When he first came to England, I had lodged him in an excellent house with some of my best friends; I had made Catholics of his mother and only brother; I had secured him a number of friends when he was thrown into prison, and had made him considerable presents. I had always shown him affection, although, perceiving that he was not firm and steady in spirit, but rather hankered too much after freedom, I did not deal confidently with him, as with others in the prison, especially Brother Emerson and John Lilly. Nevertheless, this good man, from some motive or other, procured my removal; [pg lxxxix] whether in the desire and expectation that, if I were gone, all whom he saw come to me would thenceforth come to him, or in order to curry favour with our enemies, and obtain liberty or some such boon for himself, is not certain. Be that as it may, he reported to our enemies that he was standing by when I handed a packet of letters dated from Rome and Brussels to a servant of Father Garnett's, of the name of Little John, about whom I have before spoken. This latter, after having been arrested in my company, as I have related, and subjected to various examinations, but without disclosing anything, had been released for a sum of money which some Catholic gentlemen had paid. For his services were indispensable to them and many others, as he was a first-rate hand at contriving Priests' hiding-places. The Priest then reported that I had given this man letters, and that I was in the habit of receiving letters from beyond the sea addressed both to my Superior and to myself.

“Acting on this information, the persecutors sent a Justice of the Peace to me one day, with two Queen's messengers, or pursuivants as they call them. These came up to my room on a sudden with the head gaoler; but by God's providence they found no one with me at the time except two boys, whom I was instructing with intention to send them abroad; one of whom, if I remember right, escaped, the other they imprisoned for a time. But they found nothing else in my room that I was afraid of being seen; for I was accustomed to keep all my manuscripts and other articles of importance in some holes made to hide things. All these holes were known to Brother Emerson; and so after my removal he took out everything, and among the rest a reliquary that I have with me now, and a store of money that I had in hand for the expenses of my house in town, of which I have before spoken, to the amount of thirteen hundred florins [130l.]. This money he sent to my Superior, who took charge of the house from that time till I was got out of prison.

“When these officials came in they began to question me; and when the examination was over, which it soon was, as they could get nothing from me of what they wanted to know, they began to search the room all over, to find letters or something else, that might serve their turn and injure me. While the Justice [pg xc] of the Peace was rummaging my books, one of the pursuivants searched my person, and opening my doublet, he discovered my hairshirt. At first he did not know what it was, and said: ‘What is this?’

“ ‘A shirt,’ I replied.

“ ‘Ho, ho!’ said he, ‘it is a hairshirt.’ And he caught hold of it, and wanted to drag it off my body by force.

“This insolence of the varlet, to confess my imperfection honestly, excited me more than anything that I have ever had to endure from my enemies, and I was within a little of thrusting him violently back; but I checked myself by God's grace, and claimed the Justice's protection, who immediately made him give over. So they sought, but found nothing in my room that they sought for except myself; and me they took at once, and went straight to the Tower of London with me, and there handed me to the Governor, whose title is King's Lieutenant. He was a Knight of the name of Barkley. He conducted me at once to a large high tower of three stories, with a separate lock-up place in each, one of a number of different towers contained within the whole inclosure. He left me for the night in the lowest part, and committed the custody of my person to a servant in whom he placed great confidence. The servant brought a little straw at once, and throwing it down on the ground, went away, fastening the door of my prison, and securing the upper door both with a great bolt and with iron bars. I recommended myself therefore to God, Who is wont to go down with His people into the pit, and Who never abandoned me in my bondage, as well as to the most Blessed Virgin, the Mother of Mercy, and to my Patron Saints and Guardian Angel; and after prayer I lay down with a calm mind on the straw, and slept very well that night.

“The next day I examined the place, for there was some light, though dim; and I found the name of Father Henry Walpole, of blessed memory,[79] cut with a knife on the wall, and not far from there I found his oratory, which was a space where there had been a narrow window, now blocked up with stones. There he had written on either side with chalk the names of the [pg xci] different choirs of Angels, and on the top, above the Cherubim and Seraphim, the name of Mary Mother of God, and over that the name of Jesus, and over that again, in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, the name of GOD. It was truly a great consolation to me to find myself in this place, hallowed by the presence of so great and so devoted a martyr, the place, too, in which he was frequently tortured, to the number, as I have heard, of fourteen times. Probably they were unwilling to torture him in public and in the ordinary place, because they did it oftener than they would have it known. And I can well believe that he was racked that number of times, for he lost through it the proper use of his fingers. This I can vouch for from the following circumstance. He was carried back to York, to be executed in the place where he was taken on his first landing in England, and while in prison there he had a discussion with some ministers which he wrote out with his own hand.[80] A part of this writing was given to me, together with some meditations on the Passion of Christ, which he had written in prison before his own passion. These writings, however, I could scarcely read at all, not because they were written hastily, but because the hand of the writer could not form the letters. It seemed more like the first attempts of a child, than the handwriting of a scholar and a gentleman, such as he was. Yet he used to be at Court before the death of Father Campion, in whose honour he also wrote some beautiful verses in the English tongue, declaring that he and many others had received the warmth of life from that blessed martyr's blood,[81] and had been animated by it to follow the more perfect counsels of Christ.

“When, therefore, I found myself in Father Walpole's cell I rejoiced exceedingly thereat; but I was not worthy to be the successor of such a man in his place of suffering. For on the [pg xcii] day following my gaoler, either because he thought to do me a favour, or in consequence of his master's orders, brought me into the upper room, which was sufficiently large and commodious for a prisoner. I told him that I preferred to stay in the lower dungeon, and mentioned the reason, but as he showed himself opposed to this, I asked him to allow me sometimes to go there and pray. This he promised me, and in fact frequently permitted. Then he inquired of me if he could go for me anywhere to any friends of mine who would be willing to send me a bed. For it is the custom in this prison that a bed should not be provided, but that a prisoner should provide himself a bed and other furniture, which afterwards goes to the Lieutenant of the Tower, even though the prisoner should be liberated. I replied that I had no friends to whom I could send, except such as I left in the prison from which I had been brought;[82] these, perhaps, if he would call there, would give me a plain bed by way of alms. The gaoler therefore went to the Catholics detained in the Clink, who immediately sent me a bed such as they knew I wished for; that is, a mattrass stuffed with wool and feathers after the Italian fashion. They sent also a cloak and some linen for me; and asked him always to come there for anything I wanted, and promised to give money or anything else, provided he brought a note signed by me of things I needed. They also gave him money at that time for himself, and besought him to treat me kindly.”

XIV.

“On the third day, immediately after dinner, came my gaoler to me, and with sorrowful mien told me the Lords Commissioners had come, and with them the Queen's Attorney General, and that I must go down to them.

“ ‘I am ready,’ I replied. ‘I only ask you to allow me to say a Pater and Ave in the lower dungeon.’

“This he allowed; and then we went together to the house of the Lieutenant, which was within the Tower walls. There I [pg xciii] found five men, none of whom had before examined me except Wade, who was there for the purpose of accusing me on all points.

“The Queen's Attorney General then took a sheet of paper, and began to write a solemn form of juridical examination.”

The examination of Father Gerard on this occasion is preserved in the Public Record Office.[83] The Commissioners were Sir Richard Barkley, Lieutenant of the Tower, Sir Edward Coke, then Attorney General, Thomas Fleming, a Privy Councillor, Sir Francis Bacon, afterwards Lord Chancellor, and William Wade, or Waad, afterwards Lieutenant of the Tower.

“The examination of John Gerard, Priest, taken this 14th day of April, 1597.

“Being demanded whether he received any letters from the parts beyond the seas or no, confesseth that within these four or five days he received[84] from Antwerp (as he supposeth) letters inclosed and sealed up. But how many letters were inclosed therein he knoweth not, and saith that the said letters were directed to him by the name of Standish; and being demanded from whom those letters were sent,[85] saith that he knoweth not from whom the same were sent, and denieth that he read them or that he knoweth the contents of the same, and at the first he said that he burnt them, but afterwards retracted that and confesseth that he sent them over to whom the same appertained, but[86] refuseth to declare to whom the same were delivered over, and refuseth also to declare who brought the same to him, or by whom he conveyed them over. He confesseth that he received within this year past other letters from the parts beyond the seas, and two or three of them he confesseth he did read, and saith that those letters contained matter concerning maintenance of scholars beyond sea, but refuseth to declare who sent those letters or by whom the same were brought, and saith that some of those letters were sent from St. Omers; and two or three other letters which he received from the parts beyond the seas he conveyed over to some other [pg xciv] within this realm, but denieth that he knew the contents of those letters, and refuseth to tell who sent or brought the same or to whom the same were conveyed, but saith that the same were sent over to him to whom the said last letters which he received were conveyed unto. And being demanded whether he sent not those letters to Garnett, his Superior, saith that he will name no name; but saith that those letters came to him because he had more opportunity to receive them and to convey them over. And confesseth that the party to whom he sent those letters is a Priest, and being demanded how it is possible that he should know to whom the said last letters appertained, considering that he saith that he neither knoweth from whom the same were sent, nor knoweth the contents of the same, especially the said letters being directed to himself by the name of Standish, saith that he[87] thinketh that some within this realm have greater[88] care and authority to provide for such scholars as be beyond sea than he, and saith that he sent those last letters as he had done other to that person, taking the same to contain no other matter but only concerning[89] maintenance of scholars and such as be sent from hence for the like matters. And being demanded whether he opened not the outermost sealed of those last letters, confesseth that he did; and being also demanded to whom the letters within inclosed were directed, saith that he remembereth not[90] the name, but saith that he thinketh it was to the said former person, and saith that there was nothing written within the outermost paper, and thinketh, that there were two letters within that which he conveyed over. And saith that the letters within were not directed as the outermost was, but saith that he remembereth not[91] by what name the same were directed.

“I refuse not for any disloyal mind, I protest as I look to be saved, but for that I take these things not to have concerned any matter of State, with which I would not have dealt, nor any other but matters of devotion as before.

“And being demanded whether this subscription is his usual manner of writing, saith that he useth the same in his subscriptions to his examinations, and saith that the cause thereof is that he would bring no man to trouble and that he will not acknowledge his own hand, and saith that he never wrote any letter to any man in this hand, saving once to Mr. Topcliffe. And being demanded what was the cause that moved him to have escaped out of prison of late, saith that the cause was that he might have more opportunity to have won souls. And being demanded who procured the counterfeit keys for him, by means whereof he should have escaped, refuseth to tell who it was, for that, as he saith, he will not discover anything against any other that may bring them to trouble.

“John Gerard.[92]

“Examined by us,”

Ry. Barkeley.

Edw. Coke.

Tho. Fflemynge.

Fr. Bacon.

W. Waad.”[93]

We now return to the impression that remained on Father Gerard's memory of this examination, when he wrote his life [pg xcvi] some twelve years afterwards. “They did not ask anything at that time about private Catholics, but only about matters of State, to which I answered as before in general terms; namely, that all such things were strictly forbidden to us of the Society, that I had consequently never mixed myself up with political matters, sufficient proof whereof, I said, was to be found in the fact that, though they had had me in custody for three years and had constantly examined me, they had never been able to produce a single line of my writing, nor a single trustworthy witness, to show that I had ever injured the State in a single point.

“They then inquired what letters I had lately received from our Fathers abroad. Here it was I first divined the reason of my being transferred to the Tower. I answered, however, that if I had ever received any letters from abroad, they never had any connection with matters of State, but related solely to the money matters of certain Catholics who were living beyond seas.

“ ‘Did not you,’ said Wade, ‘receive lately a packet of letters; and did you not deliver them to such a one for Henry Garnett?’

“ ‘If I have received any such,’ I answered, ‘and delivered them as you say, I only did my duty. But I never received nor delivered any but what related to the private money matters of certain Religious or students who are pursuing their studies beyond seas, as I have before said.’

“ ‘Well,’ said they, ‘where is he to be found to whom you delivered the letters, and how is he called?’

“ ‘I do not know,’ I answered; ‘and if I did know, I neither could nor would tell you.’ And then I alleged the usual reasons.

“ ‘You tell us,’ said the Attorney General, ‘that you do not wish to offend against the State. Tell us, then, where this Garnett is; for he is an enemy of the State, and you are bound to give information of such people.’

“ ‘He is no enemy of the State,’ I replied; ‘but, on the contrary, I am sure that he would be ready to lay down his life for the Queen and the State. However, I do not know where he is, and if I did know I would not tell you.’

“ ‘But you shall tell us,’ said they, ‘before we leave this place.’

“ ‘Please God,’ said I, ‘that shall never be.’

“They then produced the warrant which they had for putting me to the torture, and gave it me to read; for it is not allowed in this prison to put any one to the torture without express warrant. I saw the document was duly signed, so I said: ‘By the help of God, I will never do what is against God, against justice, and against the Catholic faith. You have me in your power; do what God permits you, for you certainly cannot go beyond.’

“Then they began to entreat me not to force them to do what they were loath to do; and told me they were bound not to desist from putting me to the torture day after day, as long as my life lasted, until I gave the information they sought from me.

“ ‘I trust in God's goodness,’ I answered, ‘that He will never allow me to do so base an act as to bring innocent persons to harm. Nor, indeed, do I fear what you can do to me, since all of us are in God's hands.’