Gunpowder, Treason and Plot

by Lettice Cooper

  “Here’s your Guy Fawkes!”

  The crowd roared with delight as the makeshift figure caught fire and blazed up. They watched it until it was reduced to ashes.

  One man wrote to a friend, “That night there were as many bonfires in London as the streets would permit.”

  Chapter 18

  The End of the Plot

  The Opening of Parliament was announced for Saturday, November 9th. During the preceding days, King James suffered from an attack of nerves. He would not go out of his private rooms in the Palace, nor dine, as his custom was, with the whole court. He would not see any visitors. He shrank even from the English Lords who made up his Council. Salisbury he had to admit, but except for him he would only have near him the Scottish Lords who had come with him from his own country. Everybody felt doubtful as to whether the King would find the courage to go and open Parliament when the day came.

  Lord Hartington, who had charge of the young Princess Elizabeth, moved her from the country to the town of Coventry for her greater safety. They told her that the Catholics had been plotting to blow up her father and mother and brother and make her Queen. The little girl exclaimed in horror, “What sort of a Queen should I have been by this means? I would rather have been with my father in the Parliament House than wear the crown on such a condition!”

  Meanwhile John Johnson was imprisoned in a narrow underground cell in the Tower. There was no light in the cell, it was damp and bitterly cold; it opened off the torture chamber.

  On November 6th, the Lord Lieutenant of the Tower began to examine Johnson again, but got nothing from him. He refused to give his real name; he refused to give the names of his fellow conspirators. He would say nothing about the plot except that “giving warning to one overthrew us all.”

  On the next day, November 7th, he was tortured. He admitted that the plot had started eighteen months ago, and that there had been a plan to put Princess Elizabeth on the throne. He admitted that his real name was Guy Fawkes, and that he came from York. He would not give the names of any of his fellow conspirators.

  That evening, when Guy Fawkes was resting after the torture, the Lord Lieutenant of the Tower had a long talk with him and believed that he was beginning to give way and that he would tell everything when he saw the rack and the other instruments of torture again the next morning.

  But Guy Fawkes, bigoted, limited, and unscrupulous about murder, was an extremely brave man, and had a good soldier’s loyalty to his comrades. Next day he again resisted torture. He was, the Lieutenant said, “in a most stubborn and perverse humour as dogged as if he were possessed.”

  Meanwhile, there was an order out for Tom Percy’s arrest, and information about him and about the other conspirators was coming in to Lord Salisbury from different quarters. A servant of Sir Everard Digby went to a Justice of the Peace and told everything he knew. On November 7th, a Royal Proclamation was issued in London denouncing the rebellion, accusing “Thomas Percy, gentleman, and some other of his confederates,” and urging all sheriffs and Justices of the Peace, Mayors, Bailiffs, Constables and other officers, to do their duty and capture the plotters.

  By the evening of November 7th, all the conspirators except Guy Fawkes and Francis Tresham had reached Holbeach House, near Stourbridge in Worcestershire. The owner, Stephen Lyttleton, was a Catholic who had joined the hunting party arranged to capture Princess Elizabeth.

  The Sheriff of Worcester, Sir Richard Walsh, had information that these conspirators and a handful of their supporters had reached Holbeach House. He sent for a larger party of soldiers, and kept a watch on the house until these soldiers could reach him.

  Inside the house, the fugitives were in a miserable condition. They had ridden for two days through driving rain. They were soaked to the skin and tired out. They knew that their plot was a complete failure and that they had little chance of escape.

  Some of the gunpowder which had been collected for the uprising was stored in Holbeach House. Lyttleton, looking at if that morning, had found it damp and had ordered it to be brought into the hall to dry. A heap of it piled up on a large dish had been placed not far from the fire where the conspirators were now huddled.

  Robert Winter began to tell them about a dream he had had.

  “Last night I saw all the churches of London standing crooked with their steeples awry. I saw the people inside the churches and they were people I knew, but they looked strange to me; their faces were all blackened with fire.”

  The dream did nothing to encourage the conspirators. They shivered and drew closer to the hearth while the steam went up from their wet clothes.

  A servant came into the hall carrying an armful of logs. Nervous, like everyone else in the house, he threw the logs carelessly into the fire. A live coal flew out and landed on the dish of gunpowder.

  There was an explosion that shook the room. When the smoke had cleared away there were cries of horror from the other conspirators, who saw that the faces of Catesby, Rookwood and Grant were scorched and blackened.

  Robert Winter cried out, “My dream! The faces I saw in my dream! Depend upon it, the finger of Almighty God is here Heaven itself is against us and is punishing us with our lives.”

  Catesby was so shaken that he called out “Yes!”

  Jack Wright shouted hysterically, “Let us set fire to the rest of the gunpowder and all go up together.”

  It seemed to the conspirators that God himself had spoken by turning their own dreadful weapon against them. From that time, none of them entertained any real hope of escape.

  Catesby’s servant, Thomas Bates, had a wife and children. He was already very sorry that his devotion to his master had led him into this disaster. He decided to go quietly away, on the chance that he might be forgotten or at least that he might see his wife and children again.

  Kit Wright, happening to look out of the window of an upstairs room saw Bates going. He leaned out and dropped down a bag containing a hundred crowns.

  “Give them,” he called softly, “to your family.”

  When Kit Wright went down into the hall again he found his brother Jack with Stephen Lyttleton and Everard Digby standing up booted and spurred as for a journey. They were going to try and find another hiding place farther off. Catesby nodded good-bye to them with a half-scornful smile but when they had gone out he took his rosary in his hand and began to say his prayers. Rookwood did the same.

  They were still praying when the door opened and Tom Winter came in. He sniffed the powder in the air and rubbed his eyes as the smoke tickled them.

  He said to Catesby, “What do you mean to do?”

  “We mean to die here,” Catesby answered.

  At eleven o’clock next morning the Sheriff of Worcester, who had by now been reinforced by a large party of soldiers, surrounded Holbeach House. He did not know how many men were there; he knew that since they had been preparing for an uprising they must have a good supply of arms and powder. He ordered the soldiers to approach cautiously, taking cover behind the bushes and firing on the doorways and windows.

  The conspirators in the house did not see the troops until they were near and started firing. Tom Winter went out into the courtyard to look if a way of escape was open at the back of the house. He was immediately struck by a bullet in the shoulder.

  Jack Wright and Ambrose Rookwood took up their positions in the door of the house to defend it. Both were shot and wounded.

  Catesby moved to the doorway. “Stand by me, Tom,” he said to Winter. “We will die together.”

  “I have lost the use of my right arm,” Tom Winter said. “I fear that I shall be taken.”

  The Sheriff was anxious to take some of the conspirators alive and had had orders from London to bring in Tom Percy a prisoner. Salisbury wanted to find out, among other things, how much the Earl of Northumberland knew of his cousin’s activities.

  The Sheriff ordered his men to stop firing from a distance and move in to the attack.

  The two
Wrights were killed almost at once. Catesby and Tom Percy fought heroically; they had never been short of courage. The soldiers fired again at close range, and Catesby dropped dead. Tom Winter, who had fought gallantly with one arm, was wounded by a pike thrust in the stomach and taken prisoner. Tom Percy was badly wounded in several places. The Sheriff had no surgeon with his hastily assembled force. He gave orders that Percy should have his wounds treated as much as possible and be carried off to London in a litter. Percy, bandaged by careless hands, died in the litter on the way to London.

  Rookwood, Tom Winter and Grant were taken to London and imprisoned in the Tower. Robert Keyes, Digby, Thomas Bates and Francis Tresham were all captured during the next three days. Only Robert Winter was still free, wandering about the countryside.

  The news of the death and capture of nearly all the conspirators encouraged the King and on November 9th he opened Parliament. He made a long speech thanking God that his life had so miraculously been preserved. Parliament House that day was a scene of great rejoicing.

  In the Tower, Guy Fawkes was still being questioned daily under torture, and still refused to give the names of his fellow conspirators. But on November 9th he broke down on the rack and told about the meeting at the house near St. Clements Church and how Father Gerard had celebrated Mass, and four of them had taken the oath and the plot had started.

  It was not until November 17th, when he had been daily stretched on the rack, that he gave the full story and the names of the men who by that time, except for Robert Winter, were dead or in prison. Guy Fawkes was so weak and faint that he could hardly sign his statement. He wrote “Guido,” the name by which he had been known in the Spanish Army for so many years. He tried to add “Fawkes” but could only trace two feeble marks on the paper before he fainted.

  The Sunday after the Opening of Parliament was proclaimed a day of National Thanksgiving. Bells rang again in all the churches, and special sermons were preached. At St. Paul’s Cross in the yard that surrounded the old Cathedral the Bishop of Rochester preached on a text from the psalms. “Great Deliverances gave He to the King …” The Bishop announced to the congregation at the end of his sermon that half the conspirators had been killed in a fight at Holbeach House and the rest taken prisoner. God had protected the King, the Lords and Commons. The Gunpowder Plot was over.

  Chapter 19

  Trial and Punishment

  On January 27th, 1606, the trial of the conspirators opened in Westminster Hall. Eight of them were still alive, Guy Fawkes, Tom Winter, John Grant, Everard Digby, Ambrose Rookwood, Thomas Bates, Robert Keyes and Robert Winter, who, after wandering wretchedly about the countryside, had been captured a few weeks earlier. Francis Tresham, who had also been arrested and imprisoned in the Tower, had died of an illness early in January.

  All the prisoners had been imprisoned in dungeons in the Tower, but only Guy Fawkes had been tortured. His health was broken by the prolonged ordeal, and he was still weak and faint when they were carried down the river on a barge and brought before the Attorney General and the other lords.

  The Attorney General, Sir Edward Coke, opened with a long violent speech. He dwelt on the brutal character of the plot.

  “Miserable but sudden had their ends been who should have died in that fiery tempest and storm of gunpowder. But more miserable had they been that had escaped. And what horrible effects the blowing up of so much powder and stuff would have wrought, not only among men and beasts but even upon insensible creatures, Churches and houses, and all places near adjoining, you who have been martial men best know.”

  The prisoners, all except Sir Everard Digby, pleaded not guilty. Guy Fawkes, who spoke on behalf of the others, said that they had been accused of plotting what had never happened. They could not be punished for something they had never done. Guy Fawkes listened to much of the Attorney General’s speech; it took all his strength to keep on his feet and to keep clear in his mind what he had agreed to say on behalf of them all. He himself had no hope except that the trial would soon be over. Rest for his racked body was all that he now cared about. But weak and shattered as he was, the others looked to him to speak for them.

  They had no one else to do it; they were not allowed a lawyer to defend them. They had all been questioned in the Tower; in fear of torture they had answered truthfully. Their answers were now read aloud, and no further argument was needed to condemn them.

  The Attorney General asked them, “What can you say wherefore a Judgement of Death should not be pronounced upon you?”

  Thomas Winter said that he had brought his brother into the conspiracy. He begged that it might be considered enough if he was executed for both of them.

  Robert Keyes asked for nothing. “Death,” he said, “is as good now as another time, and for this cause rather than another.” Robert Winter and Thomas Bates pleaded for mercy. John Grant said that he was guilty of planning a conspiracy but the plan had never been carried out.

  Ambrose Rookwood pleaded that he had been drawn into the plot, “not from any malice to the King and the State, but for the faithful and dear affection that I bore to Mr. Catesby, my friend, whom I esteemed dearer than anything else in the world.” He asked for mercy, “not that I fear death but that a shameful death will leave a blot upon my name.”

  Sir Everard Digby also pleaded guilty. He said that he had been drawn into the plot by his affection for Catesby, and by his devotion to the Catholic religion. King James, he said angrily, had promised tolerance towards the Catholics, and had broken his promises.

  The Earl of Salisbury, who was listening but had taken no part in the trial, rose to say that this statement was a lie, the King had never promised tolerance to the Catholics.

  As the early winter night fell, and candles were lit in the Great Hall, the jury were sent out to decide upon their verdict. They came back in a very short time and announced that they found the prisoners guilty.

  The Lord Chief Justice pronounced sentence of death on all of them.

  Everard Digby turned to the assembled Lords. “If I may but hear any of your Lordships say you forgive me I shall go more cheerfully to the gallows.”

  Many voices from among the Lords cried, “May God forgive you as we do.”

  The prisoners were led out of Westminster Great Hall and down to the landing stage where the barge was waiting for them. They were hustled on board and the oarsmen rowed them swiftly along the great, dark river. As they saw the lights of houses on the banks, and the lanterns in the bows of passing wherries, they knew that this was the last time they would see them. They would only come out of the Tower to their execution.

  On January 30th, Digby, Grant, Robert Winter and Thomas Bates were executed on a scaffold erected in St. Paul’s Church Yard.

  During the night the scaffold was moved to the Old Palace Yard in Westminster, very near to the Parliament House. On January 31st, Guy Fawkes, Tom Winter, Ambrose Rookwood and Robert Keyes were executed. So great was the fury against them that soldiers, armed with halberds, had to guard the entrances to the yard to keep back the crowd.

  They all prayed as their last moments came. Guy Fawkes said no word aloud, but was seen to be “Occupied with crossing himself and with idle ceremonies.”

  The bodies and heads of the conspirators were raised up on spikes above the gates of London, and on Parliament House as a warning to any other men who might think of upsetting the Government of England by violence.

  A priest hunt began. Father Garnet, the Superior of the Order of Jesuit Priests in England, was captured and executed with two other priests.

  As Father Garnet mounted the scaffold he said, “I pray God that Catholics may not fare worse for my sake.”

  They did fare much worse as a result of the Gunpowder Plot. King James had had a bad fright, and Salisbury took advantage of this to push through sterner laws against Catholics. They were forbidden to appear at court, or to live within ten miles of London unless they could prove that their work made it absolutely nec
essary. The work that they could do was limited; they could not become clerks, doctors or lawyers. They were not allowed to act as executors or trustees. They were prohibited from keeping any property that came to them by marriage if the marriage had been celebrated by a Catholic priest. Roman Catholics who had been educated outside England were declared outlaws.

  As time went on, the laws against Catholics were not applied with the same severity, but it was not until the year 1829, in the reign of George IV that Catholics were allowed to sit in Parliament and to hold high office. It was no doubt partly the memory of the Gunpowder Plot that helped to keep the fear of Catholics alive for so long.

  The memory of the plot has been kept alive in other ways. For over three hundred and fifty years, the boys and girls of England have celebrated the delivery of King and Parliament by lighting bonfires and burning effigies of Guy Fawkes on the evening of November 5th.

  A Note on the Author

  Lettice Cooper was born in Eccles, Lancashire in 1897. She began to write stories when she was seven, and later graduated with a degree in Classics from Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford in 1918. She returned home after Oxford to work for her family’s engineering firm; she wrote her first novel, The Lighted Room, in 1925. During her long career, she spent a year as Associate Editor at Time and Tide and during the Second World War worked for the Ministry of Food’s public relations division; she was also one of the founders of the Writers’ Action Group and received an OBE for her work in achieving Public Lending Rights. In 1987, at the age of ninety, she was awarded the Freedom of the City of Leeds. She never married, and died in 1994 in Coltishall, Norfolk.

  Discover books by Lettice Cooper published by Bloomsbury Reader at

  www.bloomsbury.com/Lettice Cooper

  Gunpowder, Treason and Plot

  National Provincial

  Snow and Roses