Chapter XVII. A Catalogue Of The Laws Against Catholics Made By Queen

Elizabeth And Confirmed By This King, And Of Others Added By Himself. Alphabetical Index. Footnotes

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 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 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, 30_l._ 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 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 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 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 [200_l._].(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. 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 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 100_l._ 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, 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 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; 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, 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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, 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 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 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, 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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, 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 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 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 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 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 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. 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 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 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, 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 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 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 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 [600_l._] 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 [10,000_l._]; 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; 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 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 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 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; 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 [130_l._]. 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 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 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 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 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 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)

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We now return to the impression that remained on Father Gerard’s memory of this examination, when he wrote his life 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.’

“Such was the purport of my replies, as far as I can remember.

“Then we proceeded to the place appointed for the torture. We went in a sort of solemn procession; the attendants preceding us with lighted candles, because the place was underground and very dark, especially about the entrance. It was a place of immense extent, and in it were ranged divers sorts of racks, and other instruments of torture. Some of these they displayed before me, and told me I should have to taste them every one. Then again they asked me if I was willing to satisfy them on the points on which they had questioned me. ‘It is out of my power to satisfy you,’ I answered; and throwing myself on my knees, I said a prayer or two.

“Then they led me to a great upright beam, or pillar of wood, which was one of the supports of this vast crypt. At the summit of this column were fixed certain iron staples for supporting weights. Here they placed on my wrists manacles of iron, and ordered me to mount upon two or three wicker steps;(94) then raising my arms, they inserted an iron bar through the rings of the manacles, and then through the staples in the pillar, putting a pin through the bar so that it could not slip. My arms being thus fixed above my head, they withdrew those wicker steps I spoke of, one by one, from beneath my feet, so that I hung by my hands and arms. The tips of my toes, however, still touched the ground;(95) so they dug away the ground beneath, as they could not raise me higher, for they had suspended me from the topmost staples in the pillar.

“Thus hanging by my wrists, I began to pray, while those gentlemen standing round asked me again if I was willing to confess. I replied, ‘I neither can nor will.’ But so terrible a pain began to oppress me, that I was scarce able to speak the words. The worst pain was in my breast and belly, my arms and hands. It seemed to me that all the blood in my body rushed up my arms into my hands; and I was under the impression at the time that the blood actually burst forth from my fingers and at the back of my hands. This was, however, a mistake; the sensation was caused by the swelling of the flesh over the iron that bound it.

“I felt now such intense pain (and the effect was probably heightened by an interior temptation), that it seemed to me impossible to continue enduring it. It did not, however, go so far as to make me feel any inclination or real disposition to give the information they wanted. For as the eyes of our merciful Lord had seen my imperfection, He did ‘not suffer me to be tempted above what I was able, but with the temptation made also a way of escape.’ Seeing me therefore in this agony of pain and this interior distress, His infinite mercy sent me this thought: ‘The very furthest and utmost they can do is to take away thy life; and often hast thou desired to give thy life for God: thou art in God’s hands, Who knoweth well what thou sufferest, and is all-powerful to sustain thee.’ With this thought our good God gave me also out of His immense bounty the grace to resign myself, and offer myself utterly to His good pleasure, together with some hope and desire of dying for His sake. From that moment I felt no more trouble in my soul, and even the bodily pain seemed to be more bearable than before, although I doubt not that it really increased, from the continued strain that was exercised on every part of my body.

“Hereupon those gentlemen, seeing that I gave them no further answer, departed to the Lieutenant’s house; and there they waited, sending now and then to know how things were going on in the crypt. There were left with me three or four strong men, to superintend my torture. My gaoler also remained, I fully believe out of kindness to me, and kept wiping away with a handkerchief the sweat that ran down from my face the whole time, as, indeed, it did from my whole body. So far, indeed, he did me a service; but by his words, he rather added to my distress, for he never stopped beseeching and entreating me to have pity on myself, and tell these gentlemen what they wanted to know; and so many human reasons did he allege, that I verily believe he was either instigated directly by the devil under pretence of affection for me, or had been left there purposely by the persecutors to influence me by his show of sympathy. In any case, these shafts of the enemy seemed to be spent before they reached me, for though annoying, they did me no real hurt, nor did they seem to touch my soul, or move it in the least. I said, therefore, to him, ‘I pray, you to say no more on that point, for I am not minded to lose my soul for the sake of my body, and you pain me by what you say.’ Yet I could not prevail with him to be silent. The others also who stood by said: ‘He will be a cripple all his life, if he lives through it; but he will have to be tortured daily till he confesses.’ But I kept praying in a low voice, and continually uttered the holy names of Jesus and Mary.

“I had hung in this way till after one of the clock, as I think, when I fainted. How long I was in the faint I know not; perhaps not long; for the men who stood by lifted me up, or replaced those wicker steps under my feet, until I came to myself; and immediately they heard me praying, they let me down again. This they did over and over again when the faint came on, eight or nine times before five of the clock. Somewhat before five came Wade again, and drawing near said, ‘Will you yet obey the commands of the Queen and the Council?’

“ ‘No,’ said I, ‘what you ask is unlawful, therefore I will never do it.’

“ ‘At least then,’ said Wade, ‘say that you would like to speak to Secretary Cecil.’

“ ‘I have nothing to say to him,’ I replied, ‘more than I have said already; and if I were to ask to speak to him, scandal would be caused, for people would imagine that I was yielding at length, and wished to give information.’

“Upon this Wade suddenly turned his back in a rage, and departed, saying in a loud and angry tone, ‘Hang there, then, till you rot!’

“So he went away, and I think all the Commissioners then left the Tower; for at five of the clock the great bell of the Tower sounds, as a signal for all to leave who do not wish to be locked in all night. Soon after this they took me down from my cross, and though neither foot nor leg was injured, yet I could hardly stand.”

XV.

“I was helped back to my cell by the gaoler, and meeting on the way some of the prisoners who had the range of the Tower, I addressed the gaoler in their hearing, saying I wondered how those gentlemen could insist so on my telling them where Father Garnett was, since every one must acknowledge it to be a sin to betray an innocent man, a thing I would never do, though I should die for it. This I said out loud, on purpose that the authorities might not have it in their power to publish a report about me that I had made a confession, as they often did in such cases. I had also another reason, which was that word might reach Father Garnett, through these persons spreading abroad what they heard me say, that it was about him I was chiefly examined, in order that he might look to himself. I noticed that my gaoler was very unwilling that I should speak thus before the others, but I did not stint for that. My gaoler appeared sincerely to compassionate my state, and when he reached my cell he laid me a fire, and brought me some food, as supper-time had nearly come. I scarcely tasted anything, but laid myself on my bed, and remained quiet there till the next morning.

“Early next morning, however, soon after the Tower gates were opened, my gaoler came up to the cell and told me that Master Wade had arrived, and that I must go down to him. I went down, therefore, that time in a sort of cloak with wide sleeves, for my hands were so swollen that they would not have passed through ordinary sleeves. When I had come to the Lieutenant’s house, Wade addressed me thus: ‘I am sent to you on the part of the Queen and of Master Secretary Cecil, the first of whom assures you on the word of a Sovereign, the other on his word of honour, that they know for certain that Garnett is in the habit of meddling in political matters, and that he is an enemy of the State. Consequently, unless you mean to contradict them flatly, you ought to submit your judgment, and produce him.’

“ ‘They cannot possibly know this,’ I replied, ‘by their own experience and of certain knowledge, since they have no personal knowledge of the man. Now, I have lived with him and know him well, and I know him to be no such character as you say.’

“ ‘Well then,’ returned he, ‘you will not acknowledge it, nor tell us what we ask?’

“ ‘No, certainly not,’ said I; ‘I neither can nor will.’

“ ‘It would be better for you if you did,’ he replied. And thereupon he summoned from the next room a gentleman who had been there waiting, a tall and commanding figure, whom he called the Superintendent of Torture. I knew there was such an officer, but this man was not really in that charge, as I heard afterwards, but was Master of the Artillery in the Tower. However, Wade called him by that name to strike the greater terror into me, and said to him, ‘In the name of the Queen, and of the Lords of her Council, I deliver this man into your hands. You are to rack him twice to-day, and twice daily until such time as he chooses to confess.’ The officer then took charge of me, and Wade departed.

“Thereupon we descended with the same solemnity as before into the place appointed for torture, and again they put the manacles on the same part of my arms as before; indeed, they could not be put on in any other part, for the flesh had so risen on both sides that there were two hills of flesh with a valley between, and the manacles would not meet anywhere but in the valley. Here then were they put on, not without causing me much pain. Our good Lord, however, helped me, and I cheerfully offered Him my hands and my heart. So I was hung up again as I before described; and in my hands I felt a great deal more pain than on the previous day, but not so much in my breast and belly, perhaps because this day I had eaten nothing.

“While thus hanging I prayed, sometimes silently, sometimes aloud, recommending myself to our Lord Jesus and His Blessed Mother. I hung much longer this time without fainting, but at length I fainted so thoroughly that they could not bring me to, and they thought that I either was dead or soon would be. So they called the Lieutenant, but how long he was there I know not, nor how long I remained in the faint. When I came round, however, I found myself no longer hanging by my hands, but supported sitting on a bench, with many people round me, who had opened my teeth with some iron instrument, and were pouring warm water down my throat. Now when the Lieutenant saw I could speak, he said: ‘Do you not see how much better it is for you to yield to the wishes of the Queen than to lose your life this way?’

“By God’s help I answered him with more spirit than I had ever before felt, ‘No, certainly I do not see it. I would rather die a thousand times than do what they require of me.’

“ ‘You will not, then,’ he repeated.

“ ‘No, indeed I will not,’ I answered, ‘while a breath remains in my body.’

“ ‘Well then,’ said he, and he seemed to say it sorrowfully, as if reluctant to carry out his orders, ‘we must hang you up again now, and after dinner too.’

“ ‘Let us go, then, in the name of God,’ I said; ‘I have but one life, and if I had more I would offer them all for this cause.’ And with this I attempted to rise in order to go to the pillar, but they were obliged to support me, as I was very weak in body from the torture. And if there was any strength in my soul it was the gift of God, and given, I am convinced, because I was a member of the Society, though a most unworthy one. I was suspended, therefore, a third time, and hung there in very great pain of body, but not without great consolation of soul, which seemed to me to arise from the prospect of dying. Whether it was from a true love of suffering for Christ, or from a sort of selfish desire to be with Christ, God knows best; but I certainly thought that I should die, and felt great joy in committing myself to the will and good pleasure of my God, and contemning entirely the will of men. Oh, that God would grant me always to have that same spirit (though I doubt not that it wanted much of true perfection in His eyes), for a longer life remains to me than I then thought, and He granted me time to prepare myself better for His holy presence.

“After awhile the Lieutenant, seeing that he made no way with me by continuing the torture, or because the dinner-hour was near at hand, or perhaps through a natural feeling of compassion, ordered me to be taken down. I think I hung not quite an hour this third time. I am rather inclined to think that the Lieutenant released me from compassion; for, some time after my escape, a gentleman of quality told me he had it from Sir Richard Barkley himself (who was this very Lieutenant of whom I speak), that he had of his own accord resigned the office he held, because he would no longer be an instrument in torturing innocent men so cruelly. And, in fact, he gave up the post after holding it but three or four months, and another Knight was appointed in his stead, in whose time it was that I made my escape.

“So I was brought back to my room by my gaoler, who seemed to have his eyes full of tears, and he assured me that his wife had been weeping and praying for me the whole time, though I had never seen the good woman in all my life. Then he brought me some food, of which I could eat but little, and that little he was obliged to cut for me and put into my mouth. I could not hold a knife in my hands for many days after, much less now when I was not even able to move my fingers, nor help myself in anything, so that he was obliged to do everything for me. However, by order of the authorities he took away my knife, scissors, and razors, lest I should kill myself, I believe; for they always do this in the Tower as long as the prisoner is under warrant for torture. I expected, therefore, daily to be sent for again to the torture-chamber, according to order; but our merciful God, while to other stronger champions, such as Father Walpole and Father Southwell, He gave a sharp struggle that they might overcome, gave His weak soldier but a short trial that he might not be overcome. They indeed, being perfected in a short time, fulfilled a long space; but I, unworthy of so great a good, was left to run out my days, and so supply for my defects by washing my soul with my tears, since I deserved not to wash it with my blood. God so ordained it, and may that be done which is good in His eyes.”

Father Garnett, in his letters, mentions Father Gerard’s torture for the first time when writing to Father Persons at Rome, April 23, 1597:(96) “John Gerard hath been sore tortured in the Tower: it is thought it was for some letters directed to him out of Spain.” Between this date and the next, some details had reached Father Garnett, for on the 7th of May, 1597, he wrote to the General (we translate from the Italian):(97) “Of John Gerard I have already written to you where he is. He hath been twice hanged up by the hands, with great cruelty of others, and not less suffering of his own. The inquisitors here say that he is very obstinate, and that he has a great alliance with God or the devil, as they cannot draw the least word out of his mouth, except that in torment he cries ‘Jesus.’ They took him lately to the rack, and the torturers and examiners were there ready, but he suddenly, when he entered the place, knelt down, and with a loud voice prayed to our Lord that, as He had given grace and strength to some of His Saints to bear with Christian patience being torn to pieces by horses for His love, so He would be pleased to give him grace and courage, rather to be dragged into a thousand pieces than to say anything that might injure any person or the Divine glory. And so they left him without tormenting him, seeing him so resolved.” On June 13, 1597 (in the copy it is _Jan. 10_, evidently a mistake), he writes:(98) “I wrote unto you heretofore of the remove of Mr. Gerard to the Tower: he hath been thrice hanged up by the hands, every time until he was almost dead, and that in one day twice. The cause was (as now I understand perfectly) for to tell where his Superior was, and by whom he had sent him letters which were delivered him from Father Persons, and he was discovered by one of his fellow-prisoners. The Earl of Essex saith he must needs honour him for his constancy.” Again, a letter of Father Garnett to the General, in Latin, dated June 11, 1597, runs thus:(99) “I have written to you more than once of our Mr. John Gerard, that he has been thrice tortured, but that he has borne all with invincible courage. We have also lately heard for certain that the Earl of Essex praised his constancy, declaring that he could not help honouring and admiring the man. A secretary of the Royal Council denies that the Queen wishes to have him executed. To John this will be a great trouble.”

XVI.

“I remained therefore in my cell, spending my time principally in prayer. And now again I made the Spiritual Exercises, as I had done at the beginning of my imprisonment, giving four or five hours a day to meditation for a whole month. I had a breviary with me, so that I was able to say my Office; and every day I said a dry Mass (such as is said by those who are practising Mass before the Priesthood), and that with great reverence and desire of communicating, especially at that part where I should have communicated if the Sacrifice had been real. And these practices consoled me in my tribulation.

“At the end of three weeks, as far as I can remember, I was able to move my fingers, and help myself a little, and even hold a knife. So when I had finished my retreat, I asked leave to have some books, but they only allowed me a Bible, which I obtained from my friends in my former prison. I sent to them for some money, by which means I saw that I should be able to enlist the sympathies of my gaoler, and induce him to allow me things, and even to bring me some books. My friends sent me by him all that I asked for. I got my gaoler to buy some large oranges, a fruit of which he was very fond. But besides gratifying him with a present of them, I meditated making another use of them in time.

“I now began to exercise my hands a little after dinner. Supper I never took, though it was always allowed; indeed, there was no stint of food in the prison, all being furnished at the Queen’s expense; for there were given me daily six small rolls of very good bread. There are different scales of diet fixed in the prison, according to the rank of the prisoner; the religious state, indeed, they take no account of, but only human rank, thus making most of what ought to be esteemed the least. Well, the exercise which I gave my hands was to cut the peel of these oranges into the form of crosses, and sew them two and two together. I made many of these crosses, and many rosaries also strung on silken cord. Then I asked my gaoler if he would carry some of these crosses and rosaries to my friends in my old prison? He, seeing nothing in this to compromise him, readily undertook to do so. In the meanwhile, I put some of the orange-juice in a small jug. I was now in want of a pen, but I dared not openly ask for one; nay, even if I had asked, and obtained my request, I could at this time scarcely have written, or but very badly; for though I could hold a pen, I could hardly feel that I had anything in my fingers. The sense of touch was not recovered for five months, and even then not fully, for I was never without a certain numbness in my hands up to the time of my escape, which was more than six months after the torture. So I begged for a quill to make myself a toothpick, which he readily brought me. I made this into a pen fit for writing, then cutting off a short piece of the pointed end, I fixed it on a small stick. With the rest of the quill I made a toothpick, so long that nothing appeared to have been cut off, and this I afterwards showed my gaoler. Then I begged for some paper to wrap up my rosaries and crosses, and obtained his leave also to write a line or two with pencil on the paper, asking my friends to pray for me. All this he allowed, not suspecting that he was carrying anything but what he knew. But I had managed to write on the paper with some orange-juice, telling my friends to write back to me in the same way, but sparingly at first; asking them also to give the bearer a little money, and promise him some as often as he should bring any crosses or rosaries from me, with a few words of my writing to assure them that I was well.

“When they received the paper and the rosaries, knowing that I should if possible have written something with orange-juice, as I used to do with them, they immediately retired to their room, and held the paper to a fire. Thus they read all I had written, and wrote back to me in the same way, sending me some comfits or dried sweetmeats wrapped up in the paper on which they had written. We continued this method of communication for about half a year; but we soon proceeded with much greater confidence when we found that the man never failed to deliver our missives faithfully. For full three months, however, he had no idea that he was conveying letters to and fro. But after three months I began to ask him to allow me to write with a pencil at greater length, which he permitted. I always gave him these letters open, that he might see what I wrote, and I wrote nothing but spiritual matters that he could see, but on the blank part of the paper I had written with orange-juice directions and particular advice for my different friends, about which he knew nothing.

“As it happened, indeed, I need not have been so circumspect; for the man, as I found out after some time, could not read. He pretended, however, that he was able, and used to stand and look over my shoulder while I read to him what I had written with pencil. At length it occurred to me that possibly he could not read; so in order to make the trial, while he was looking over the paper, I read it altogether in a different way from what I had written. After doing this on two or three occasions without his taking any notice, I said openly to him, with a smile, that he need not look over my shoulder any more. He acknowledged, indeed, that he could not read, but said that he took great pleasure in hearing what I read to him. After this he let me write what I would, and carried everything as faithfully as ever. He even provided me with ink, and carried closed letters to and fro between my friends and me. For seeing that I had to do with very few, and those discreet and trustworthy people, and thinking that neither I nor they were likely to betray him, he did just what we asked him for a consideration, for he always received a stipulated payment. He begged me, however, not to require him to go so often to the Clink prison, lest suspicion should arise from these frequent visits, which might cause harm not only to him, but to me; he proposed, therefore, that some friend of mine should meet him near the Tower and deliver the letters to him. But I was loath to risk the safety of any one by putting him thus in the man’s power. It made no difference to those already in custody; they could, without much additional danger, hold correspondence with me, and send me anything for my support by way of alms. Besides, I knew that my messenger would not be likely to speak of the letter he carried, as he was quite conscious that this would be as dangerous for himself as for those to whom he carried them.

“Nay, even if he had wished he could not have done much injury either to me or my friends, because I took good care never to name any of them in my letters: but before I was in prison, and after, I invariably used pseudonyms which were understood by those to whom I wrote. Thus, I called one ‘Brother,’ another ‘Son,’ another ‘Nephew,’ or ‘Friend,’ and so of their wives, calling this one ‘Sister,’ that one ‘Niece,’ or ‘Daughter.’ In this way no one not in the secret could possibly tell whom I meant, even if the letters had been intercepted, which they never were. I may add that even if the letters had been betrayed and read, they could never have been made further use of by the enemy, in allowing them to be carried to their destination to lure the correspondents on till they should compromise themselves, as was sometimes done. For I never wrote now with lemon-juice, as I once did in the Clink; which letter was betrayed to the persecutor Wade, as I before related. The reason of my doing so then was because there were two letters there, which had to be read in one place, and then carried to another. Now lemon-juice has this property, that what is written in it can be read in water quite as well as by fire, and when the paper is dried the writing disappears again till it is steeped afresh, or again held to the fire. But anything written with orange-juice is at once washed out by water, and cannot be read at all in that way; and if held to the fire, though the characters are thus made to appear, and can be read, they will not disappear; so that a letter of this sort, once read, can never be delivered to any one as if it had not been read. The party will see at once that it has been read, and will certainly refuse and disown it, if it should contain anything dangerous. It was in this way I knew that my letters always reached my friends, and that theirs reached me in safety. And so our correspondence continued, I obtaining sure information of all my friends, and they receiving at my hands the consolation they sought.

“In order, however, that matters might go on still more securely, I managed, through some of my friends, that John Lilly’s release should be purchased; and from that time I always got him to bring to my gaoler everything that reached me from the outside. It was through his means too, a little later, that I escaped from the Tower, although nothing certainly was farther from my thoughts when I thus secured his services. All I had in view was to be able to increase my correspondence with safety. This went on for about four months, and after the first month I gave a good time to study by means of books secretly procured. But at this time an event occurred which caused me great anxiety.

“Master Francis Page, of whom I have before spoken, was now living with my former host,” Mr. Wiseman, “who had been released from prison. After my removal to the Tower, he got to learn in what part of it I was confined; and out of regard for me used to come daily to a spot from whence he could see my window, in order to get the chance some day of seeing me there. At last it so happened that going one day to the window (it was a warm day in summer), I noticed a gentleman at some distance pull off his hat as if to me; then he walked to and fro, and frequently stopped and made pretence of arranging his hair, in order to have the opportunity of doffing his hat to me without attracting the attention of others. At last I recognized him by the clothes that he was accustomed to wear, and made him a sign of recognition, and giving him my blessing, I withdrew at once from the window, lest others should see me, and have suspicion of him. But the good man was not content with this; daily did he come for my blessing, and stopped some time, walking to and fro, and ever as he turned he doffed his hat, though I frequently made signals to him not to do so. At length he was noticed doing this, and one day as I was looking I saw him, to my great grief, seized and led away. He was brought to the Lieutenant of the Tower, who examined him about me and my friends. But he denied everything, and said that he simply walked there for his amusement, it being a fine open space close to the river Thames. So they kept him a prisoner for some days, and meanwhile by inquiry found that he was living with my former host. This increased their suspicion that he had been sent there to give me some sign. But as he constantly denied everything, they at last had recourse to me, and sent for me to be examined. Now, as I was going to the examination, Master Page was walking up and down with my gaoler in the hall, through which I was taken to the chamber where the authorities awaited me. Immediately I was introduced, the examiners said to me: ‘There is a young man here named Francis Page, who says he knows you and desires to speak with you.’

“ ‘He can do so if he wishes,’ I replied; ‘but who is this Francis Page? I know no such person.’

“ ‘Not know him?’ said they; ‘he at any rate knows you so well that he can recognize you at a distance, and has come daily to salute you.’

“I, however, maintained I knew no such man. So when they found they could twist nothing out of me either by wiles or threats, they sent me back. But as I passed again through the hall where Master Page was with the others, I looked all round, and said with a loud voice, ‘Is there any one here of the name of Francis Page, who says he knows me well, and has often come before my window to see me? Which of all these is he? I know no such person, and I wonder that any one should be willing to injure himself by saying such things.’

“All this while the gaoler was trying to prevent my speaking, but was unable. I said this, not because I had any idea that he had acknowledged that he knew me, but for fear they might afterwards tell him of me what they had told me of him. And so it turned out. For they had told him already that I had acknowledged I knew him, and they had only sent for me then that he might see me go in, intending to tell him I had confirmed all I said before. But now they could not so impose on him. For when he was summoned, he immediately told them what I had said publicly in the hall as I passed through. The men, in their disappointment, stormed against the gaoler and me, but being thus baffled, could not carry out their deception.

“A little later they released Master Page for money, who soon crossed the sea, and, after going through his studies in Belgium, was made Priest. Thence he returned afterwards to England and remained mostly in London, where he was much beloved, and useful to many souls. One of his penitents was that Mistress Line whose martyrdom I have above related. In her house he was once taken, as I said, but that time he escaped. A little after he obtained his desire of being admitted into the Society, but before he could be sent over to Belgium for his noviceship, he was again taken, and being tried like gold in the furnace, and accepted as the victim of a holocaust, he washed his robe in the blood of the Lamb, and is now in the possession of his reward. And he sees me now no longer detained in the Tower while he is walking by the water of the Thames, but rather he beholds me on the waters, still tossed by the various winds and storms, while he is secure of his own eternal happiness, and solicitous, as I hope, for mine. Before all this, however, he used to say that he was much encouraged and amused by hearing what I said as I passed through the hall, as it enabled him to detect and avoid the snares of the enemy.

“During the time I was detained at the Tower, no one was allowed to visit me, so that I could afford no help to souls by my words; by letter, however, I did what I could with those to whom I could venture to trust the secret of how they might correspond with me. Once, however, after John Lilly’s release, as he was walking in London streets, two ladies, mother and daughter, accosted him, and begged him if it was by any means possible to bring them where they could see me. He, knowing the extreme danger of such an attempt, endeavoured to dissuade them, but they gave him no peace till he promised to open the matter to the gaoler, and try to get him to admit them, as if they were relations of his. Gained over by large promises, the man consented; the ladies had also made a present of a new gown to his wife. They therefore, dressing themselves as simple London citizens, the fashion of whose garments is very different from that of ladies of quality, came with John Lilly under pretence of visiting the gaoler’s wife, and seeing the lions that are kept in the Tower, and the other animals there which the curious are in the habit of coming to see. After they had seen all the sights, the gaoler led them within the walls of the Tower, and when he found a good opportunity, introduced them and John Lilly into my room, exposing himself to a great danger for a small gain. When they saw me they could not restrain themselves from running and kissing my feet, and even strove with one another who should first kiss them. For my part, I could not deny them what they had bought so dear, and then begged for so earnestly, but I only allowed them to offer this homage to me as to the prisoner of Christ, not as to the sinner that I am. We conversed a little, then leaving with me what they had brought for my use, they returned in safety much consoled, but not without tears, for they thought they should never see my face again, inasmuch as they had heard in the city that I was to be brought to trial and executed.”

XVII.

“Once also Father Garnett, my Superior, sent me similar happy news, warning me in a letter full of consolation to prepare myself for death. And, indeed, I cannot deny that I rejoiced at the things that were said to me; but my great unworthiness prevented me from going into the House of the Lord. In fact, the good Father, though he knew it not, was to obtain this mercy before me; and God grant that I may be able to follow him even at a distance to the Cross which he so much loved and honoured. God gave him the desire of his heart; for it was on the Feast of the Invention of the Holy Cross that he found Him Whom his soul loved. On this same Feast of the Holy Cross on which this holy Father found his crown, I received, by his intercession I fully believe, two great favours, of which I will speak further at the close of this narration; to which close, indeed, it behoves me to hasten, for I am conscious that I have already been more diffuse than such small matters warranted.

“What good Father Garnett warned me of by letter, the enemy threatened also by words and acts about that time. For those who had come before with authority to put me to the torture, now came again, but with another object, to wit, to take my formal examination in preparation for my trial. So the Queen’s Attorney General questioned me on all points, and wrote everything down in that order which he meant to observe in prosecuting me at the assizes, as he told me. He asked me, therefore, about my Priesthood, and about my coming to England as a Priest and a Jesuit, and inquired whether I had dealt with any to reconcile them to the Pope, and draw them away from the faith and religious profession which was approved in England. All these things I freely confessed that I had done; answers which furnished quite sufficient matter for my condemnation according to their laws. When they asked, however, with whom I had communicated in political matters, I replied that I had never meddled with such things. But they urged the point, and said it was impossible that I, who so much desired the conversion of England, should not have tried these means also, as being very well adapted to the end. To this I replied, as far as I recollect, in the following way: ‘I will tell you my mind candidly in this matter, and about the State, in order that you may have no doubt about my intent, nor question me any more on the subject; and in what I say, lo! before God and His holy Angels I lie not, nor do I add aught to the true feeling of my heart. I wish, indeed, that the whole of England should be converted to the Catholic and Roman faith; that the Queen, too, should be converted, and all the Privy Council; yourselves also, and all the magistrates of the realm: but so that the Queen and you all without a single exception should continue to hold the same powers and dignities that you do at present, and that not a single hair of your head should perish, that so you may be happy both in this life and the next. Do not think, however, that I desire this conversion for my own sake, in order to regain my liberty and follow my vocation in freedom. No; I call God to witness that I would gladly consent to be hanged to-morrow if all this could be brought about by that means. This is my mind and my desire: consequently I am no enemy of the Queen’s nor of yours, nor have I ever been so.’

“Hereupon Mr. Attorney kept silence for a time, and then he began afresh to ask me what Catholics I knew; did I know such-and-such? I answered, ‘I do not know them.’ And I added the usual reasons why I should still make the same answer even if I did know them. Upon this, he digressed to the question of equivocation, and began to inveigh against Father Southwell,” whose conduct I defended by several arguments.(100)

“They made no reply to me; but the Attorney General wrote everything down, and said he should use it against me at my trial in a short time. But he did not keep his word: for I was not worthy to enter under God’s roof, where nothing denied can enter. I have, therefore, still to be purified by a prolonged sojourn in exile, and so at length, if God please, be saved as by fire.

“This my last examination was in Trinity term, as they call it. They have four terms in the year, during which many come up to London to have their causes tried, for these are times that the law courts are open. It is during these terms, on account of the great confluence of people, that they bring those Priests to trial whom they have determined to prosecute; and probably this was what they proposed to do in my case: but man proposes and God disposes, and He had disposed otherwise. When this time, therefore, had passed away, there was no longer any probability that they would proceed against me publicly. I turned my attention consequently to study in this time of enforced leisure, as I thought they had now determined only to prevent my communication with others, and that this was the reason they had transferred me to my present prison, as being more strict and more secure.”

XVIII.

“I thus endeavoured to conform myself to the decrees of God and the tyranny of man; when lo! on the last day of July [1597], the anniversary of our holy Father Ignatius’ departure from this life, while I was in meditation and was entertaining a vehement desire of an opportunity for saying Mass, it came into my head that this really might be accomplished in the cell of a certain Catholic gentleman, which lay opposite mine on the other side of a small garden within the Tower. This gentleman(101) had been detained ten years in prison. He had been, indeed, condemned to death, but the sentence was not carried out. He was in the habit of going up daily on the leads of the building in which he was confined, which he was allowed to use as a place of exercise. Here he would salute me, and wait for my blessing on bended knees.

“On examining this idea of mine more at leisure, I concluded that the matter was feasible, if I could prevail on my gaoler to allow me to visit this gentleman. For he had a wife who had obtained permission to visit him at fixed times, and bring him changes of linen and other little comforts in a basket; and as this had now gone on many years, the officers had come to be not so particular in examining the basket as they were at first. I hoped, therefore, that there would be a possibility of introducing gradually by means of this lady all things necessary for the celebration of Mass, which my friends would supply. Resolving to make the trial, I made a sign to the gentleman to attend to what I was going to indicate to him. I then took pen and paper and made as if I was writing somewhat; then, after holding the paper to the fire, I made a show of reading it, and lastly I wrapped up one of my crosses in it, and made a sign of sending it over to him. I dared not speak to him across the garden, as what I said would easily have been heard by others. Then I began treating with my gaoler to convey a cross or a rosary for me to my fellow-prisoner, for the same man had charge of both of us, as we were near neighbours. At first he refused, saying that he durst not venture, as he had had no proof of the other prisoner’s fidelity in keeping a secret. ‘For if,’ said he, ‘the gentleman’s wife were to talk of this, and it should become known I had done such a thing, it would be all over with me.’ I reassured him, however, and convinced him that such a result was not likely, and, as I added a little bribe, I prevailed upon him as usual to gratify me. He took my letter, and the other received what I sent; but he wrote me nothing back as I had requested him to do. Next morning when he made his appearance on the leads he thanked me by signs, and showed the cross I had sent him.

“After three days, as I got no answer from him, I began to suspect the real reason, namely, that he had not read my letter. So I called his attention again, and went through the whole process in greater detail. Thus, I took an orange and squeezed the juice into a little cup, then I took a pen and wrote with the orange-juice, and holding the paper some time before the fire, that the writing might be visible, I perused it before him, trying to make him understand that this was what he should do with my next paper. This time he fathomed my meaning, and thus read the next letter I sent him. He soon sent me a reply, saying that he thought the first time I wanted him to burn the paper, as I had written a few visible words on it with pencil; therefore he had done so. To my proposal, moreover, he answered, that the thing could be done, if my gaoler would allow me to visit him in the evening and remain with him the next day; and that his wife would bring all the furniture that should be given her for the purpose.

“As a next step, I sounded the gaoler about allowing me to visit my fellow-prisoner, and proposed he should let me go just once and dine with him, and that he, the gaoler, should have his share in the feast. He refused absolutely, and showed great fear of the possibility of my being seen as I crossed the garden, or lest the Lieutenant might take it into his head to pay me a visit that very day. But as he was never in the habit of visiting me, I argued that it was very improbable that the thing should happen as he feared. After this, the golden arguments I adduced proved completely successful, for I promised him a crown for his kindness; and he acceded to my request. So I fixed on the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin; and in the meanwhile I told my neighbour to let his wife call at such a place in London, having previously sent word to John Lilly what he should give her to bring. I told him, moreover, to send a pyx and a number of small hosts, that I might be able to reserve the Blessed Sacrament. He provided all I told him, and the good lady got them safely to her husband’s cell. So on the appointed day I went over with my gaoler, and stayed with my fellow-prisoner that night and the next day; but the gaoler exacted a promise that not a word of this should be said to the gentleman’s wife. The next morning, then, said I Mass, to my great consolation; and that confessor of Christ communicated, after having been so many years deprived of that favour. In this Mass I consecrated also two-and-twenty particles, which I reserved in the pyx with a corporal; these I took back with me to my cell, and for many days renewed the divine banquet with ever fresh delight and consolation.”

XIX.

“Now while we were together that day, I—though nothing was less in my thoughts when I came over than any idea of escape (for I sought only our true deliverer, Jesus Christ, as He was prefigured in the little ash-baked loaf of Elias, that I might with more strength and courage travel the rest of my way even to the Mount of God),—seeing how close this part of the Tower was to the moat by which it was surrounded, began to think with myself that it were a possible thing for a man to descend by a rope from the top of the building to the other side of the moat. I asked my companion, therefore, what he thought about it, and whether it seemed possible to him. ‘Certainly,’ said he, ‘it could be done, if a man had some real and true friends to assist him, who would not shrink from exposing themselves to danger to rescue one they loved.’

“ ‘There is no want of such friends,’ I replied, ‘if only the thing is feasible and worth while trying,’

“ ‘For my part,’ said he, ‘I should only be too glad to make the attempt; since it would be far better for me to live even in hiding, where I could enjoy the Sacraments and the company of good men, than to spend my life here in solitude between four walls.’

“ ‘Well, then,’ I answered, ‘let us commend the matter to God in prayer; in the meanwhile I will write to my Superior, and what he thinks best we will do.’

“While we remained together, we took counsel on all the details that would have to be carried out, if the plan were adopted. I returned that night to my cell, and wrote a letter to Father Garnett by John Lilly, putting all the circumstances before him. He answered me that the thing should be attempted by all means, if I thought it could be done without danger to my life in the descent.

“Upon this I wrote to” Mr. Wiseman, “my former host, telling him that an escape in this way could be managed, but that the matter must be communicated to as few as possible, lest it should get noised about and stopped. I appointed, moreover, John Lilly and Richard Fulwood, the latter of whom was at that time serving Father Garnett, if they were willing to expose themselves to the peril, to come on such a night to the outer bank of the moat opposite the little tower in which my friend was kept, and near the place where Master Page was apprehended, as I described before. They were to bring with them a rope, one end of which they were to tie to a stake; then we, from the leads on the top of the tower, would throw over to them a ball of lead with a stout string attached, such as men use for sewing up bales of goods. This they would find in the dark by the noise it would make in falling, and would attach the string to the free end of their rope, so that we, who retained one end of the string, would thus be able to pull the rope up. I ordered, moreover, that they should have on their breasts a white paper or handkerchief, that we might recognize them as friends before throwing out our string, and that they should come provided with a boat in which we might quickly make our escape.

“When these arrangements had been made and a night fixed, yet my host wished that a less hazardous attempt should first be made, by trying whether my gaoler could be bribed to let me out, which he could easily do by permitting a disguise. John Lilly therefore offered him, on the part of a friend of mine, a thousand florins [100_l._] on the spot, and a hundred florins [10_l._] yearly for his life, if he would agree to favour my escape. The man would not listen to anything of the kind, saying he should have to live an outcast if he did so, and should be sure to be hanged if ever he was caught. Nothing, therefore, could be done with him in this line. So we went on with our preparations according to our previous plan; and the matter was commended to God with many prayers by all those to whom the secret was committed. One gentleman, indeed, heir to a large estate, made a vow to fast once a week during his life if I escaped safely. When the appointed night came, I prevailed on the gaoler, by entreaties and bribes, to allow me to visit my friend. So he locked us both in together with bolts and bars of iron as usual, and departed. But as he had also locked the inside door that led to the roof, we had to loosen the stone into which the bolt shot with our knives, or otherwise we could not get out. This we succeeded in doing at length, and mounted the leads softly and without a light, for a sentinel was placed in the garden every night, so that we durst not even speak to each other but in a very low whisper.

“About midnight we saw the boat coming with our friends, namely, John Lilly, Richard Fulwood, and another, who had been my gaoler in the former prison, through whom they procured the boat, and who steered the boat himself. They neared the shore; but just as they were about to land, some one came out of one of the poor cottages thereabouts, and seeing their boat making for the shore, hailed them, taking them for fishermen. The man indeed returned to his bed without suspecting anything, but our boatmen durst not venture to land till they thought the man had gone to sleep again. They paddled about so long, however, that the time slipped away, and it became impossible to accomplish anything that night; so they returned by London Bridge. But the tide was now flowing so strongly, that their boat was forced against some piles there fixed to break the force of the water, so that they could neither get on nor get back. Meanwhile, the tide was still rising, and now came so violently on the boat that it seemed as if it would be upset at every wave. Being in these straits, they commended themselves to God by prayers, and called for help from men by their cries.

“All this while we on the top of the tower heard them shouting, and saw men coming out on the bank of the river with candles, running up and getting into their boats to rescue those in danger. Many boats approached them, but none durst go up to them, fearing the force of the current.(102) So they stood there in a sort of circle round them, spectators of their peril, but not daring to assist. I recognized Richard Fulwood’s voice in the shouts, and said, ‘I know it is our friends who are in danger.’ My companion indeed did not believe I could distinguish any one’s voice at that great distance;(103) but I knew it well, and groaned inwardly to think that such devoted men were in peril of their lives for my sake. We prayed fervently, therefore, for them, for we saw that they were not yet saved, though many had gone to assist them. Then we saw a light let down from the bridge,(104) and a sort of basket attached to a rope, by which they might be drawn up, if they could reach it. This it seems they were not able to do. But God had regard to the peril of His servants, and at last there came a strong sea-boat with six sailors, who worked bravely, and bringing their boat up to the one in danger, took out Lilly and Fulwood. Immediately they had got out, the boat they had left capsized before the third could be rescued, as if it had only kept right for the sake of the two who were Catholics. However, by God’s mercy, the one who was thrown into the river caught a rope that was let down from the bridge, and was so dragged up and saved. So they were all rescued and got back to their homes.”

XX.

“On the following day(105) John Lilly wrote me by the gaoler as usual. What could I expect him to say but this: ‘We see, and have proved it by our peril, that it is not God’s will we should proceed any further in this business.’ But I found him saying just the contrary. For he began his letter as follows: ‘It was not the will of God that we should accomplish our desire last night; still He rescued us from a great danger, that we might succeed better the next time. What is put off is not cut off:(106) so we mean to come again to-night, with God’s help.’

“My companion, on seeing such constancy joined with such strong and at the same time pious affection, was greatly consoled, and did not doubt success. But I had great ado to obtain leave from the gaoler to remain another night out of my cell; and had misgivings that he would discover the loosening of the stone when he locked the door again. He, however, remarked nothing of it.

“In the meantime I had written three letters to be left behind. One was to the gaoler, justifying myself for taking this step without a word to him; I told him I was but exercising my right, since I was detained in prison without any crime, and added that I would always remember him in my prayers, if I could not help him in any other way. I wrote this letter with the hope that if the man were taken into custody for my escape, it might help to show that he was not to blame. The second letter was to the Lieutenant, in which I still further exonerated the gaoler, protesting before God that he knew nothing whatever about my escape, which was, of course, perfectly true, and that he certainly would not have allowed it if he had suspected anything. This I confirmed by repeating the very tempting offer which had been made him and which he had refused. As to his having allowed me to go to another prisoner’s cell, I said I had extorted it from him with the greatest difficulty by repeated importunities, and therefore it would not be right that he should suffer death for it. The third letter was to the Lords of the Council, in which I stated first the causes which moved me to the recovery of my liberty, of which I had been unjustly deprived. It was not so much the mere love of freedom, I said, as the love of souls which were daily perishing in England that led me to attempt the escape, in order that I might assist in bringing them back from sin and heresy. As for matters of State, as they had hitherto found me averse to meddling with them, so they might be sure that I should continue the same. Besides this, I exonerated the Lieutenant and gaoler from all consent to, or connivance at, my escape, assuring them that I had recovered my liberty entirely by my own and my friends’ exertions. I prepared another letter also, which would be taken next morning to my gaoler, not, however, by John Lilly, but by another, as I shall narrate presently.

“At the proper hour we mounted again on the leads. The boat arrived and put to shore without any interruption. The schismatic, my former gaoler, remained with the boat, and the two Catholics came with the rope. It was a new rope, for they had lost the former one in the river on occasion of their disaster. They fastened the rope to a stake, as I had told them; they found the leaden ball which we threw, and tied the string to the rope. We had great difficulty, however, in pulling up the rope, for it was of considerable thickness, and double too. In fact, Father Garnett ordered this arrangement, fearing lest, otherwise, the rope might break by the weight of my body. But now another element of danger showed itself, which we had not reckoned on: for the distance was so great between the tower and the stake to which the rope was attached, that it seemed to stretch horizontally rather than slopingly; so that we could not get along it merely by our weight, but would have to propel ourselves by some exertion of our own. We proved this first by a bundle we had made of books and some other things wrapped up in my cloak. This bundle we placed on the double rope to see if it would slide down of itself, but it stuck at once. And it was well it did; for if it had gone out of our reach before it stuck, we should never have got down ourselves. So we took the bundle back and left it behind.

“My companion, who had before spoken of the descent as a thing of the greatest ease, now changed his mind, and confessed it to be very difficult and full of danger. ‘However,’ said he, ‘I shall most certainly be hanged if I remain now, for we cannot throw the rope back without its falling into the water, and so betraying us both and our friends. I will therefore descend, please God, preferring to expose myself to danger with the hope of freedom, rather than to remain here with good certainty of being hanged.’ So he said a prayer, and took to the rope. He descended fairly enough, for he was strong and vigorous, and the rope was then taut: his weight, however, slackened it considerably, which made the danger for me greater, and though I did not then notice this, yet I found it out afterwards when I came to make the trial.

“So commending myself to God, to our Lord Jesus, to the Blessed Virgin, to my Guardian Angel, and all my Patrons, particularly to Father Southwell, who had been imprisoned near this place for nearly three years before his martyrdom, to Father Walpole, and to all our Saints, I took the rope in my right hand and held it also with my left arm; then I twisted my legs about it, to prevent falling, in such a way that the rope passed between my shins. I descended some three or four yards face downwards, when suddenly my body swung round by its own weight and hung under the rope. The shock was so great that I nearly lost my hold, for I was still but weak, especially in the hands and arms. In fact, with the rope so slack and my body hanging beneath it, I could hardly get on at all. At length, I made a shift to get on as far as the middle of the rope, and there I stuck, my breath and my strength failing me, neither of which were very copious to begin with. After a little time, the Saints assisting me, and my good friends below drawing me to them by their prayers, I got on a little further and stuck again, thinking I should never be able to accomplish it. Yet I was loath to drop into the water as long as I could possibly hold on. After another rest, therefore, I summoned what remained of my strength, and helping myself with legs and arms as well as I could, I got as far as the wall on the other side of the moat. But my feet only touched the top of the wall, and my whole body hung horizontally, my head being no higher than my feet, so slack was the rope. In such a position, and exhausted as I was, it was hopeless to expect to get over the wall by my own unaided strength. So John Lilly got on to the wall somehow or other (for, as he afterwards asserted, he never knew how he got there), took hold of my feet, and by them pulled me to him, and got me over the wall on to the ground. But I was quite unable to stand, so they gave me some cordial waters and restoratives, which they had brought on purpose. By the help of these I managed to walk to the boat, into which we all entered. They had, however, before leaving the wall, untied the rope from the stake and cut off a part of it, so that it hung down the wall of the tower. We had previously, indeed, determined to pull it away altogether, and had with this object passed it round a great gun on the tower without knotting it. But God so willed it that we were not able by any exertion to get it away; and if we had succeeded, it would certainly have made a loud splash in the water, and perhaps have brought us into a worse danger.

“On entering the boat we gave hearty thanks to God, Who had delivered us from the hand of the persecutor and from all the expectation of the people; we returned our best thanks also to those who had exposed themselves to such labours and perils for our sakes. We went some considerable distance in the boat before landing. After we had landed I sent the gentleman, my companion, with John Lilly, to my house, of which I have before spoken, which was managed by that saintly widow, Mistress Line. I myself, however, with Richard Fulwood, went to a house which Father Garnett had in the suburbs; and there Little John and I, a little before daylight, mounted our horses, which he had ready there for the purpose, and rode straight off to Father Garnett, who was then living a short distance in the country.(107) We got there by dinner-time, and great rejoicing there was on my arrival, and much thanksgiving to God at my having thus escaped from the hands of my enemies in the name of the Lord.

“In the meanwhile I had sent Richard Fulwood with a couple of horses to a certain spot, that he might be ready to ride off with my gaoler, if he wished to consult his immediate safety. For I had a letter written, of which I made previous mention, which was to be taken to him early in the morning at the place where he was accustomed to meet John Lilly. Lilly, however, did not carry the letter, for I had bidden him remain quiet within doors until such time as the storm which was to be expected had blown over. So another, who also knew the gaoler, took the letter, and gave it to him at the usual meeting-place. He was indeed surprised at another’s coming, but took the letter without remark, and was about to depart with the intention of delivering it to me as usual; but the other stopped him, saying, ‘The letter is for you, and not for any one else.’

“ ‘For me?’ said the gaoler, ‘from whom then does it come?’

“ ‘From a friend of yours,’ replied the other; ‘but who he is I don’t know.’

“The gaoler was still more astonished at this, and said, ‘I cannot myself read; if, then, it is a matter which requires immediate attention, pray read it for me.’

“So the man that brought the letter read it for him. It was to the effect that I had made my escape from prison; and here I added a few words on the reasons of my conduct, for the purpose of calming his mind. Then I told him, that though I was nowise bound to protect him from the consequences, as I had but used my just right, yet, as I had found him faithful in the things which I had intrusted him with, I was loath to leave him in the lurch. If, therefore, he was inclined to provide for his own safety immediately, there was a horse waiting for him with a guide who would bring him to a place of safety, sufficiently distant from London, where I would maintain him for life, allowing him two hundred florins [20_l._] yearly, which would support him comfortably. I added that if he thought of accepting this offer, he had better settle his affairs as quickly as possible, and betake himself to the place which the bearer of the letter would show him.

“The poor man was, as may well be supposed, in a great fright, and accepted the offer; but, as he was about to return to the Tower to settle matters and get his wife away, a mate of his met him, and said, ‘Be off with you as quick as you can; for your prisoners have escaped from the little tower, and Master Lieutenant is looking for you everywhere. Woe to you if he finds you!’ So, returning all in a tremble to the bearer of the letter, he besought him for the love of God to take him at once to where the horse was waiting for him. He took him, therefore, and handed him over to Richard Fulwood, who was to be his guide. Fulwood took him to the house of a friend of mine residing at the distance of a hundred miles from London, to whom I had written, asking him, if such a person should come, to take him in and provide for him. I warned him, however, not to put confidence in him, nor to acknowledge any acquaintance with me. I told him that Richard Fulwood would reimburse him for all the expenses, but that he must never listen to the man if at any time he began to talk about me or about himself.

“Everything was done as I had arranged; my friend received no damage, and the gaoler remained there out of danger. After a year he went into another county, and, becoming a Catholic, lived there comfortably for some five years with his family on the annuity which I sent him regularly according to promise. He died at the end of those five years, having been through that trouble rescued by God from the occasions of sin, and, as I hope, brought to Heaven. I had frequently in the prison sounded him in matters of religion; and though his reason was perfectly convinced, I was never able to move his will. My temporal escape, then, I trust, was by the sweet disposition of God’s merciful providence the occasion of his eternal salvation.

“The Lieutenant of the Tower, when he could not find either his prisoners or their gaoler, hastened to the Lords of the Council with the letters which he had found. They wondered greatly that I should have been able to escape in such a way; but one of the chief members of the Council, as I afterwards heard, said to a gentleman who was in attendance that he was exceedingly glad I had got off. And when the Lieutenant demanded authority and assistance to search all London for me, and any suspected places in the neighbourhood, they all told him it would be of no use. ‘You cannot hope to find him,’ said they; ‘for if he had such determined friends as to accomplish what they have, depend upon it they will have made further arrangements, and provided horses and hiding-places to keep him quite out of your reach.’ They made search, however, in one or two places, but no one of any mark was taken that I could ever hear of.

“For my part, I remained quietly with Father Garnett for a few days, both to recruit myself and to allow the talk about my escape to subside. Then my former hosts, who had proved themselves such devoted friends, urged my return to them, first to their London house close to the Clink prison, where they were as yet residing. So I went to them, and remained there in secrecy, admitting but very few visitors; nor did I ever leave the house except at night, a practice I always observed when in London, though at this time I did even this very sparingly, and visited only a few of my chief friends.

“At this time I also visited my house, which was then under the care of Mistress Line, afterwards martyred. Another future martyr was then residing there of whom I have previously spoken, namely, Mr. Robert Drury, Priest. In this house about this time I received a certain parson who had been chaplain to the Earl of Essex in his expedition against the Spanish King, when he took Cadiz. He was an eloquent man and learned in languages; and when converted to the Catholic faith he had abandoned divers great preferments, nay, had likewise endured imprisonment for his religion. Hearing that he had an opportunity of making his escape, I offered that he should come to my house. There I maintained him for two or three months, during which time I gave him the Spiritual Exercises. In the course of his retreat, he came to the determination of offering himself to the Society; upon which I asked him to tell me candidly how he, who had been bred up in Calvin’s bosom as it were, had been accustomed to military life, and had learnt in heresy and had long been accustomed to prefer his own will to other people’s, could bring himself to enter the Society, where he knew, or certainly should know, that the very opposite principles prevailed. To this he replied, ‘There are three things, in fact, which have especially induced me to take this step. First, because I see that heretics and evil livers hold the Society in far greater detestation than they do any other Religious Order; from which I judge that it has the Spirit of God in an especial degree, which the spirit of the devil cannot endure, and that it has been ordained by God to destroy heresy, and wage war against sin in general. Secondly, because all ecclesiastical dignities are excluded by its Constitutions, whence it follows that there is in it a greater certainty of a pure intention; and as its more eminent members are not taken from it for the Episcopate, it is more likely to retain its first fervour and its high estimation for virtue and learning. Thirdly, because in it obedience is cultivated with particular care, a virtue for which I have the greatest veneration, not only on account of the excellent effects produced thereby in the soul, but also because all things must needs go on well in a body where the wills of the members are bound together, and all are directed by God.’

“These were his reasons; so I sent him into Belgium, that he might be forwarded to the College at Rome by Father Holt, giving him three hundred florins [30_l._] for his expenses. I gave the Spiritual Exercises also to some others in that house before I gave it up, among whom was a pious and good Priest named Woodward, who also found a vocation to the Society, and afterwards passed into Belgium with the intention of entering it; but as there was a great want of English Priests in the army at the time, he was appointed to that work, and died in it, greatly loved and reverenced by all.

“I did not, however, keep that house long after the recovery of my liberty, because it was now known to a large number of persons, and was frequented during my imprisonment by many more than I should have permitted if I had been free. My principal reason, however, for giving it up was because it was known to the person who had been the cause of my being sent to the Tower. He had indeed expressed sorrow for his act, and had written to me to beg my pardon, which I freely gave him; yet, as he was released from prison soon after my escape, and I found that those among whom he had lived had no very good opinion of his character, I did not think it well that a thing involving the safety of many should remain within his knowledge. Mistress Line, also, a woman of singular prudence and virtue, was of the same mind. So I determined to make other arrangements as soon as possible....”

“It seemed best, therefore, that Mistress Line should lodge for a space by herself in a hired room of a private house; while I, who did not wish to be without a place in London where I could safely admit some of my principal friends, and perhaps house a Priest from time to time, joined with a prudent and pious gentleman, who had a wife of similar character, in renting a large and spacious house between us. Half the house was to be for their use and the other half for mine, in which I had a fair chapel well provided and ornamented. Hither I resorted when I came to London, and here also I sent from time to time those I would, paying a certain sum for their board. In this way I expended scarce half the amount I did formerly under the other arrangement, when I was obliged to maintain a household whether there were any guests in the house or not; though indeed it was seldom that the house was empty of guests.

“I made this new provision for my own and my friends’ accommodation just in good time; for most certainly had I remained in my former house I should have been taken again. The thing happened in this wise. The Priest who, as I have related, got me promoted from a more obscure prison to a nobler one, began to importune me with continual letters that I would grant him an interview. Partly by delaying to answer him, partly by excusing myself on the score of occupation, I put him off for about half a year. At length he urged his request very pressingly, and complained to me by letter that I showed contempt of him. I sent him no answer, but on a convenient occasion, knowing where he lodged, I despatched a friend to him to tell him that if he wished to see me, he must come at once with the messenger. I warned the messenger, however, not to permit any delay, nor to allow him to write anything nor address any one on the way if he wished to have an interview with me. I arranged, moreover, that he should be brought not to any house, but to a certain field near one of the Inns of Court, which was a common promenade, and that the messenger should walk there alone with him till I came. It was at night, and there was a bright moon. I came there with a couple of friends, in case any attempt should be made against me, and making a half circuit outside (that he might not know in what part of London I lived), I happened to enter the field near the house of a Catholic which adjoined it; and our good friend catching first sight of me near this house, thought perhaps that I came out of it, and in fact the Archpriest was lodging in it at the time. However that may be, I found him there walking and waiting for me, and when I had heard all he had to say, I saw that there was nothing which he had not already said in his letters, and to which he had not had my answer. My suspicion was therefore increased, and certainly not without reason. For within a day or two that corner house near which he saw me enter the field, and my old house which I had lately left (though he knew not that I had left it), were both of them surrounded and strictly searched on the same night and at the same hour. The Archpriest was all but caught in the one; he had just time to get into a hiding-place, and so escaped.(108) The search lasted two whole days in the other house, which the Priest knew me to have occupied at one time. The Lieutenant of the Tower and the Knight Marshal(109) conducted the searches in person, a task they never undertake unless one of their prisoners has escaped. From these circumstances it is sufficiently clear, both of whom they were in search and from whom they got their information.

“But when they found me not (nor indeed did they find the Priest who was then in the house, living with a Catholic to whom I had let it), they sent pursuivants on the next day to the house of my host, who had by this time returned to his country seat, but by God’s mercy they did not find me there either. It was well, therefore, that I acted cautiously with the above-mentioned Priest, and also that I had so opportunely changed my residence in London.”

XXI.

“I saw also that it would soon be necessary for me to give up my present residence in the country, and betake myself elsewhere; otherwise those good and faithful friends of mine,” the Wisemans, “would always be suffering some annoyance for my sake. I proposed the matter, therefore, to them, but they refused to listen to me in this point, though in all other things they were most obedient. But I thought more of their peace than of their wishes, however pious these wishes were; and therefore I laid the matter before my Superior,(110) who approved my views. So I obtained from Father Garnett another of ours, a pious and learned man, whom I had known at Rome, and who at that time was companion to Father Ouldcorne, of blessed memory; this was Father Richard Banks, now professed of four vows. I took him to live with me for a time, that I might by degrees introduce him into the family in my place; and in the meantime I made more frequent excursions than usual.

“In one of these excursions I visited a noble family, by whom I had long been invited and often expected, but I had never yet been able to visit them on account of my pressing occupations. Here I found the lady of the house, a widow, very pious and devout, but at this present overwhelmed with grief at the loss of her husband. She had, indeed, been so affected by this loss that for a whole year she scarce stirred out of her chamber, and for the next three years which had intervened before my visit, had never brought herself to go to that part of the mansion in which her husband had died. To this grief and trouble were added certain anxieties about the bringing up of her son, who was yet a child under his mother’s care. He was one of the first Barons of the realm; but his parents had suffered so much for the Faith, and had mortgaged so much of their property to meet the constant exactions of an heretical Government, that the remaining income was scarcely sufficient for their proper maintenance. But a wise woman builds up her house and is proved in it....”

This lady was Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Roper, who was raised to the peerage in 1616 as Lord Teynham. In 1590(111) she married George, the second son of William, Lord Vaux of Harrowden, but her husband died in 1594, during the lifetime of his father. When in the following year her father-in-law also died, she was left in charge of her infant son, Edward fourth Baron Vaux.

As she wished me to reside in her house, “on my return to London I proposed the matter to Father Garnett, who was much rejoiced at the offer, knowing the place to be one where much good might be done both directly and indirectly. He said, too, that the offer had occurred most opportunely, for that there were some Catholics in another county more to the north, where Catholics were more numerous and there was no Priest of the Society, who had been long petitioning for the Father at present stationed at that house, and who would much rejoice at the prospect of having him among them. To this I urged that the place was large enough for two, and that I very much desired to have a companion of the Society with me, and I requested that he would assign me Father John Percy, with whom I had become acquainted during my imprisonment, not indeed personally, but by frequent interchange of letters. This Father had been brought prisoner from Flanders to Holland,(112) where he was recognized and tortured; he was afterwards thrown into the foul gaol of Bridewell, and after remaining there some time made a shift to escape from a window with another Priest, letting himself down with a rope. Mistress Line made him welcome in my house, where he tarried for a time; but soon after went down into the county of York, and dwelt there with a pious Catholic. In this part he made himself so dear to every one, that though I had Father Garnett’s consent, it was a full year before I could get him away from them.

“Since now to the desire of this noble widow was added the approval of Father Garnett, I so settled my affairs as to provide amply for the security and advantage of my former hosts. For I left with them Father Banks, a most superior man in every respect; and although at first my old friends did not value him so much, yet, as they became better acquainted, they found that the good account I had given them was no more than the truth, and soon came to esteem him as a father. I often afterwards visited their house, where I had found so great faith and piety.

“When I was domiciled in my new residence, I began by degrees to wean my hostess’ mind from that excessive grief; showing how that we ought to mourn moderately only over our dead, and not to grieve like those who have no hope. I added that as her husband had become a Catholic before his death, one little prayer would do him more good than many tears; that our tears should be reserved for our own and others’ sins, for our own souls stood in need of floods of that cleansing water, and it was to the concerns of our own souls that all our thoughts and labours should be turned. I then taught her the use of meditation, finding her quite capable of profiting by it, for her mental powers were of a very high order. I thus gradually brought her first to change that old style of grief for a more worthy one; then to give eternal concerns the preference over worldly matters; and to consider how she might transform her life, which before was good and holy, into better and holier, by endeavouring as much as she could to imitate the life of our Lord and of His Saints.

“She was ready to set up her residence wherever I judged it best for the good of religion, whether in London,(113) or in the most remote part of the island, as she often protested to me. I considered, however, that though a residence in or near London would be better for the gaining of souls, yet that it was not at present very safe for me; nor, indeed, could she remain there in private, since she was well known for a Catholic, and the Lords of the Council demanded from her frequent accounts of her son, the Baron, where and how he was educated. Moreover, as she had the management of her son’s estate while he was a minor, stewards and bailiffs, and other such persons, must have constant communication with her; so that it was quite out of the question her living near London under an assumed name; yet this was absolutely necessary if a person wished to carry on the good work in that neighbourhood. It was thus those ladies did with whom Father Garnett lived so long, who were in fact sisters of this lady’s deceased husband, one unmarried, the other a widow.(114) I saw, therefore, no fitter place for her to fix her residence than where she was among her own people, where she had the chief people of the county connected with her and her son, either by blood or friendship.

“The only difficulty which remained was about the exact spot. The house in which she was actually living was not only old, but antiquated. It had been the residence of her husband’s father, who had married a wife who was a better hand at spending than at gathering, and consequently the house was very poorly appointed for a family of their dignity. There was another and larger house of theirs at” Great Harrowden, “a distance of about three miles, which had been the old family seat. This had also been neglected, so that it was in some part quite ruinous, and not fit for our purpose, namely, to receive the Catholic gentry who might come to visit me. In addition to this, it was not well adapted for defence against any sudden intrusions of the heretics, and consequently we should not be able to be as free there as my hostess wished. Her desire was to have a house where we might as nearly as possible conform ourselves to the manner of life followed in our Colleges; and this in the end she brought about.

“She sought everywhere for such a house, and we looked at many houses in the county; but something or other was always wanting to her wishes. At last we found a house which had been built by the late Chancellor of England,(115) who had died childless, and was now to be let for a term of years. It was truly a princely place, large and well built, surrounded by gardens and orchards, and so far removed from other houses that no one could notice our coming in or going out. This house she took on payment of fifteen thousand florins [1,500_l._], and began to fit it up for our accommodation. She wished to finish the alterations before we removed thither; but man proposes, and God disposes as He wills, though always for the best, and for the true good of His elect.

“When I came to the lady’s house, she had a great number of servants, some heretics, others indeed Catholics, but allowing themselves too much liberty. By degrees things got into better order; some became Catholics; others, through public and private exhortations, became by the grace of God more fervent; and some, of whom there did not appear any hope of amendment, were dismissed. There was one who brought great trouble on us. For on one occasion when we were in London, either from thoughtlessness or loquacity, or because the yoke of a stricter discipline, now begun in the family, sat uneasily upon him, he said to a false brother that I had lately come to live at his lady’s house, and had carried on such and such doings there; and that I was then in London at such a house, naming the house of which I rented half, as I have before said; he told him also that he himself had gone to that house with his lady at a time when she and I were in town on business connected with her son, and that he had seen the master and mistress of that house when they called on his lady, as they had often done. My hostess had now returned into the country with this servant, leaving me for a short time in town. But the man had left this tale behind him, which soon came to the ears of the Council, how that I had my residence with such a lady, and was at this moment at such a house in London. They instantly, therefore, commissioned two Justices of the Peace to search the house.

“I, who had no inkling of such a danger, had remained in town for certain business, and was giving a retreat to three gentlemen in the house before mentioned. One of these three gentlemen was Master Roger Lee, now Minister in the English College of St. Omers. He was a gentleman of high family, and of so noble a character and such winning manners that he was a universal favourite, especially with the nobility, in whose company he constantly was, being greatly given to hunting, hawking, and all other noble sports. He was, indeed, excellent at everything, but he was withal a Catholic, and so bent on the study of virtue that he was meditating a retreat from the world and a more immediate following of Christ. He used frequently to visit me when I was in the Clink prison, and I clearly saw that he was called to greater things than catching birds of the air, and that he was meant rather to be a catcher of men. I had now, therefore, fixed a time with this gentleman and good friend of mine, in which he should seek out, by means of the Spiritual Exercises, the strait path that leads to life, under the guidance of Him Who is Himself the Way and the Life.

“But while he and the others were engaged privately in their chambers in the study of this heroic philosophy, suddenly the storm burst upon us. I, too, in fact, after finishing my business in town, had taken the opportunity of a little quiet to begin my own retreat, giving out that I had returned into the country. I was now in the fourth or fifth day of the retreat, when about three o’clock in the afternoon John Lilly hurried to my room, and without knocking, entered with his sword drawn.

“Surprised at this sudden intrusion, I asked what was the matter.

“ ‘It is a matter of searching the house,’ he replied.

“ ‘What house?’

“ ‘This very house: and they are in it already!’

“In fact, they had been cunning enough to knock gently, as friends were wont to do, and the servant opened readily to them, without the least suspicion until he saw them rush in and scatter themselves in all directions.

“While John was telling me this, up came the searching party, together with the mistress of the house, to the very room in which we were. Now, just opposite to my room was the chapel, so that from the passage the door of the chapel opened on the one hand, and that of my room on the other. The magistrates, then, seeing the door of the chapel open, went in, and found there an altar richly adorned, and the priestly vestments laid out close by, so handsome as to cause expressions of admiration from the heretics themselves. In the meanwhile I, in the room opposite, was quite at my wit’s end what to do; for there was no hiding-place in the room, nor any means of exit except by the open passage were the enemy were. However, I changed the soutane which I was wearing for a secular coat, but my books and manuscript meditations, which I had there in considerable quantities, I was quite unable to conceal.

“We stood there with our ears close to the chink of the door, listening to catch what they said: and I heard one exclaim from the chapel, ‘Good God! what have we found here? I had no thoughts of coming to this house to-day!’ From this I concluded that it was a mere chance search, and that they had no special warrant. Probably, therefore, I thought they had but few men with them. So we began to consult together whether it were not better to rush out with drawn swords, seize the keys from the searching party, and so escape; for we should have Master Lee and the master of the house to help us, besides two or three men-servants. Moreover, I considered that if we should be taken in the house, the master would certainly be visited with a far greater punishment than what the law prescribes for resistance to a magistrate’s search.

“While we were thus deliberating, the searchers came to the door of my room and knocked. We made no answer, but pressed the latch hard down, for the door had no bolt or lock. As they continued knocking, the mistress of the house said, ‘Perhaps the man-servant who sleeps in that room may have taken away the key. I will go and look for him.’

“ ‘No, no,’ said they, ‘you go nowhere without us, or you will be hiding away something.’

“And so they went with her, not staying to examine whether the door had a lock or not. Thus did God blind the eyes of the Assyrians, that they should not find the place, nor the means of hurting His servants, nor know where they were going.

“When they had got below-stairs, the mistress of the house, who had great presence of mind, took them into a room in which some ladies were, the sister, namely, of my hostess in the country, and Mistress Line; and while the magistrates were questioning these ladies, she ran up to us, saying, ‘Quick, quick! get into the hiding-place!’ She had scarce said this and run down again, before the searchers had missed her and were for remounting the stairs. But she stood in their way on the bottom step, so that they immediately suspected what the case was, and were eager to get past. This, however, they could not do without laying forcible hands on the lady, a thing which, as gentlemen, they shrank from doing. One of them, however, as she stood there purposely occupying the whole width of the stair-way, thrust his head past her, in hopes of seeing what was going on above-stairs. And indeed he almost caught sight of me as I passed along to the hiding-place. For as soon as I heard the lady’s words of warning, I opened the door, and with the least possible noise mounted from a stool to the hiding-place, which was arranged in a secret gable of the roof. When I had myself mounted, I bade John Lilly come up also, but he, more careful of me than of himself, refused to follow me, saying: ‘No, Father; I shall not come. There must be some one to own the books and papers in your room; otherwise, upon finding them, they will never rest till they have found you too: only pray for me.’

“So spoke this truly faithful and prudent servant, so full of charity as to offer his life for his friend. There was no time for further words. I acquiesced reluctantly and closed the small trap-door by which I had entered, but I could not open the door of the inner hiding-place, so that I should infallibly have been taken if they had not found John Lilly, and mistaking him for a Priest ceased from any further search. For this was what happened, God so disposing it, and John’s prudence and intrepidity helping thereto.

“For scarcely had he removed the stool by which I mounted, and had gone back to the room and shut the door, when the two chiefs of the searching party again came upstairs and knocked violently at the door, ready to break it open if the key were not found. Then the intrepid soldier of Christ threw open the door and presented himself undaunted to the persecutors.

“ ‘Who are you?’ they asked.

“ ‘A man, as you see,’ he replied.

“ ‘But what are you? Are you a Priest?’

“ ‘I do not say I am a Priest,’ replied John; ‘that is for you to prove. But I am a Catholic certainly.’

“Then they found there on the table all my meditations, my breviary, and many Catholic books, and what grieved me most of all to lose, my manuscript sermons and notes for sermons, which I had been writing or compiling for the last ten years, and which I made more account of, perhaps, than they did of all their money. After examining all these they asked whose they were.

“ ‘They are mine,’ said John.

“ ‘Then there can be no doubt you are a Priest. And this cassock, whose is this?’

“ ‘That is a dressing-gown, to be used for convenience now and then.’

“Convinced now that they had caught a Priest, they carefully locked up all the books and papers in a box, to be taken away with them. Then they locked the chapel door and put their seal upon it, and taking John by the arm they led him downstairs, and delivered him into the custody of their officers. Now when he entered with his captors into the room where the ladies were, he, who at other times was always wont to conduct himself with humility and stand uncovered in such company, now, on the contrary, after saluting them, covered his head and sat down. Nay, assuming a sort of authority, he said to the magistrates: ‘These are noble ladies; it is your duty to treat them with consideration. I do not, indeed, know them, but it is quite evident that they are entitled to the greatest respect.’

“I should have mentioned that there was a second Priest in the house with me, Father Pullen,(116) an old man, who had quite lately made his noviceship at Rome. He luckily had a hiding-place in his room, and had got into it at the first alarm.

“The ladies, therefore, now perceiving that I was safe, and that the other Priest had also escaped, and seeing also John’s assumed dignity, could scarce refrain from showing their joy. They made no account now of the loss of property, or the annoyance they should have to undergo from the suspicion of having had a Priest in the house. They wondered indeed and rejoiced, and almost laughed to see John playing the Priest, for so well did he do it as to deceive those deceivers, and divert them from any further search.”

XXII.

“The magistrates who had searched the house took away John Lilly with them, and the master of the house also with his two men-servants, under the idea that all his property would be confiscated for harbouring a Priest.(117) The ladies, however, represented that they had merely come to pay an after-dinner visit to the mistress of the house, without knowing anything about a Priest being there; so they were let off on giving bail to appear when summoned. The same favour was ultimately shown to Master Roger Lee, though it was with greater difficulty the magistrates could be persuaded that he was only a visitor. At last, then, they departed well satisfied, and locked up their prisoners for the night to wait their morrow’s examination.

“Immediately on their departure, the mistress of the house and those other ladies came with great joy to give me notice; and we all joined in giving thanks to God, Who had delivered us all from such imminent danger by the prudence and fidelity of one. Father Pullen and I removed that very night to another place, lest the searchers should find out their error and return.

“The next day I made a long journey to my hostess’ house in the country, and caused much fear, and then much joy, as I related all that God had done for us. Then we all heartily commended John Lilly to God in prayer. And, indeed, there was reason enough to do so. For the magistrates, making full inquiries the next day, found that John had been an apothecary in London for seven years, and then had been imprisoned in the Clink for eight or nine more, and that he had been the person who had communicated with me in the Tower, for the gaoler’s wife had been apprehended after her husband’s flight, and had confessed so much. They saw, therefore, clearly that they had been tricked, and that John was not a Priest, but a Priest’s servant; and they now began to have a shrewd suspicion, though rather too late, that I had been hidden at the time in the same house where they caught him, especially as they found so many books and writings which they did not doubt were mine. They sent, therefore, to search the house again, but they found only an empty nest, for the birds were flown.

“John was carried to the Tower and confined there in chains. Then they examined him about my escape, and about all the places he had been to with me since. He, seeing that his dealings with the gaoler were already known to them, and desirous (if God would grant him such a favour), to lay down his life for Christ, freely confessed that it was he who had compassed my deliverance, and that he took great pleasure in the thought of having done so; he added that he was in the mind to do the same again if occasion required and opportunity offered. The gaoler, however, he exonerated, and protested that he was not privy to the escape. With regard to the places where he had been with me, he answered (as he had been often taught to do) that he would bring no one into trouble, and that he would not name a single place, for to do so would be a sin against charity and justice. Upon this they said they would not press him any further in words, but would convince him by deeds that he must tell them all they wanted. John replied: ‘It is a thing that, with the help of God, I will never do. You have me in your power; do what God permits you.’

“Then they took him to the torture-chamber, and hung him up in the way I have before described, and tortured him cruelly for the space of three hours. But nothing could they wring from him that they could use either against me or against others, so that from that time they gave up all hope of obtaining anything against any one from him either by force or fear. Consequently they tortured him no more, but kept him in the closest custody for about four months to try and tire him into compliance. Failing also in this, and seeing that their pains availed them nothing, they sent him to another prison, where prisoners are usually sent who are awaiting execution, and probably it was their intention to deal that way with him, but God otherwise determined. For after a long detention here, and having been allowed a little communication with other Catholic prisoners, he was asked by a certain Priest to assist him in making his escape. Turning his attention, therefore, to the matter, he found a way by which he delivered both the Priest and himself from captivity.

“I ought not, however, to omit an incident that happened during his detention in the Tower, since it is in such things that the dealings of God’s providence are often to be very plainly recognized. While he was under examination about me and others of the Society, Wade, who was at that time the chief persecutor, asked him if he knew Garnett. John said he did not.

“ ‘No?’ said Wade, with a sour smile; ‘and you don’t know his house in the Spital(118) either, I dare say! I don’t mind letting you know,’ he continued, ‘now that I have you safe, that I am acquainted with his residence, and that we are sure of having him here in a day or two to keep you company. For when he comes to London he puts up at that house, and then we shall catch him.’

“John knew well that the house named was Father Garnett’s resort, and was in great distress to find that the secret had been betrayed to the enemy; and, though kept as close as possible, yet he managed in a few days by God’s good providence to get an opportunity of sending some little article _wrapped up in blank paper_ to a friend in London. His friend on receiving it carefully smoothed out the paper and held it to the fire, knowing that John would be likely to communicate by the means of orange-juice if he had the opportunity, and there he found it written that this residence of Father Garnett’s had been betrayed, and that Father Garnett must be warned of it. This was instantly done, and in this way the Father was saved, for otherwise he would assuredly, as Wade had said, have betaken himself to that house in a day or two. Now, however, he not only did not go, but took all his things away, so that when the house was searched they found nothing. Had it not been for this providential warning from our greatest enemy, they would have found plenty; they would have found him, his books, altar furniture, and other things of a similar nature. Father Garnett, then, escaped this time by John’s good help, as I had done previously.

“After his escape John came to me, but though I desired much to keep him, it was out of the question, for he was now so marked a man that his presence would have been a continual danger for me and all my friends. For I was wont in the country to go openly to the houses of Catholic gentlemen, and it might well happen that John might come across persons that knew him, and would know me through him. Whereas but very few of the enemy knew me, for I was always detained in close custody, and none but Catholics saw me in prison, nay, such Catholics only as I knew to be specially trustworthy. I had, indeed, been examined publicly in London several times, but the persons concerned in the examinations very seldom left town, and if they had done so I should have been warned of it instantly, and should have taken good care never to trust myself in their neighbourhood. So I put John with Father Garnett, to stay in quiet hiding for a time; and when opportunity offered sent him over to Father Persons, that he might obtain, what he had long hoped for, admission to the Society. He was admitted at Rome,(119) and lived there for six or seven years as a Lay-brother, much esteemed, I believe, by everybody. I can on my part testify about him to the greater glory of God, and that the more allowably because I believe he has died in England before this present writing, whither he returned with a consumption on him: I can, I say, testify that for nearly six years that he was with me in England, and had his hands full of business for me, though he had to do with all sorts of men in all sorts of places (for while I was engaged upstairs with the gentry and nobility, he was associating downstairs with the servants, often very indifferent characters), yet the whole of this time he so guarded his heart and his soul that I never found him to have been even in danger of mortal sin. Truly his was an innocent soul, and endowed with great prudence and cleverness.

“But now that I have brought the history of John Lilly to its close, it is time to return to myself, who, having just escaped one danger, had like to have fallen into a second and still greater one, had not God again interposed His hand.”

XXIII.

“I mentioned just now that one of my hostess’ servants told a friend of his, but an enemy of ours, that I habitually resided at his mistress’ house, and that at that particular time I was at such a house in London. How this house was searched, and how they seized my companion and my manuscripts, but missed me, I have related. The Council, therefore, now knowing my residence in the country, issued a commission to some Justices of the Peace in that county to search this lady’s house for a Priest. It had, in fact, began to be talked of in the county that she had taken this grand house in order that she might harbour Priests there in larger numbers and with greater freedom, because it was more private; and in this people were not far wrong.”

“Now at this time, that is, soon after my return from London, we had driven over to the new house to make arrangements for our removal thither, and with the special object of determining where to construct hiding-places. To this end we had Little John with us, whom I have before mentioned as very clever at constructing these places, and whom Father Garnett had lent to us for a time for this purpose. Having made all the necessary arrangements we left Little John behind, and Hugh Sheldon also to help him, who is now at Rome with Father Persons in the room of John Lilly. These two, whom we had always found most faithful, were to construct the hiding-places, and to be the only ones beside ourselves to know anything about them. The rest of us, however, returned the same day to our hostess’ own house, and by the advice of one of the servants, God so disposing it, we came back a different way, as being easier for the carriage. Had we returned by the way we went, the searchers would have come early to the house where we were, and most probably catching us entirely unprepared, would have found what they came to seek. The fact was that the road by which we went to the new house ran through a town, where some of the enemy were on the watch and had seen us pass, but not seeing us return they concluded that we were spending the night at the new house, and went there the first thing in the morning to search.

“But the house was so large that, although they had a numerous body of followers, they were not able to surround it entirely, nor to watch all the outlets so narrowly, but what Little John managed to make off safely. Hugh Sheldon they caught, but could get nothing out of him, so they sent him afterwards to prison at Wisbech, and from thence later to some other prison in company with many Priests, and at last in the same good company into exile.

“When, however, the Justices found that they were wrong, and that the lady had returned home the previous day, they retraced their steps and came as fast as their horses could carry them to the old house. They arrived at our dinner-hour, and being admitted by the carelessness of the porter, got into the hall before we had any warning. Now as the lady of the house was a little indisposed that morning, we were going to take our dinner in my room, that is, Father Percy, myself, and Master Roger Lee, who had come down from London to finish his retreat which had been so rudely interrupted before. So when I heard who had come, that they were in the great hall, and that his lordship himself, who was indeed but a boy at that time, could not prevent them from intruding into his room, though he was also unwell, I made a pretty shrewd guess what they had come about, and snatching up such things as wanted hiding I made the best of my way to the hiding-place, together with Father Percy and Master Roger Lee. For it would not do for this latter to have been found here, especially as he had already been found in the house in London where I was known to have been, and would therefore have given good reason to think that I was here also. But we had to pass by the door of the room in which the enemy were as yet waiting, and exclaiming that they would wait no longer. Nay, one of the pursuivants opened the door and looked out; and some of the servants said that he must have seen me as I passed. But God certainly interposed, for it was surely not to be expected from natural causes that men who had come eager to search the house at once, and were loudly declaring they would do so, should stay in a room where they were not locked in, just as long as was necessary for us to hide ourselves, and then come forth as if they had been let loose, intrude upon the lady of the house, and course through all the rooms like bloodhounds after their prey. I cannot but think that this was the finger of God, Who would not that the good intentions of this lady should be so soon frustrated, but rather wished by so evident a display of His providence to confirm her in her determinations, and preserve her for many more good works.

“The authorities searched the house thoroughly the whole day, but found nothing. At last they retired disappointed, and wrote to the Council what they had done. We soon discovered who had done the mischief (for he had not done it secretly) and discharged him, but without unkindness. I gave out also that I should quit the place altogether, and for a time we practised particular caution in all points.

“In consequence of this mishap it became impossible for us to remove to the new house. For those same Justices, who were pestilent heretics, and several others in the same county, Puritans, declared they would never suffer her ladyship to live at peace if she came there, as her only object was to harbour Priests. Being deterred, therefore, from that place, but not from her design, she set about fitting up her own present residence for that same purpose, and built us separate quarters close to the old chapel, which had been erected anciently by former Barons of the family to hear Mass in when the weather might make it unpleasant to go to the parish church. Here, then, she built a little wing of three stories for Father Percy and me. The place was exceedingly convenient, and so free from observation that from our rooms we could step out into the private garden, and thence through spacious walks into the fields, where we could mount our horses and ride whither we would.

“As we lived here safely and quietly, I frequently left Father Percy at home, and made excursions to see if I could establish similar centres of operation among other families; and in this Father Roger Lee (to give him his present title) helped me not a little. He first took me to the house of a relation of his, who lived in princely splendour, and whose father was one of the Queen’s Council. This young nobleman was a schismatic, that is, a Catholic by conviction, but conforming externally to the State religion; and there seemed no hope of getting him any further, for he contented himself with _velleities_, and was fearful of offending his father. His wife, however, who was a heretic, had begun to listen with interest to Catholic doctrine, so that there was hope she might in time be brought into the Church. Their house was full of heretic servants, and there was a constant coming and going of heretic gentry either on business or on visit; it was therefore imperatively necessary that, as I could only go there publicly, I should well conceal my purpose.

“We paid a visit, then, to this house, and were made very welcome, Master Lee for his own sake, as being much beloved, and I for his. On the first day I looked in vain for an opportunity of a conversation with the lady of the house, for there was always some one by. We were obliged to play at cards to pass the time, as those are wont to do who know not the eternal value of time, or at least care not for it. On the next day, however, as the lady of the house stept aside once to the window to set her watch, I joined her there, and after talking a little about the watch, passed on to matters which I had more in view, saying I wished we took as much pains to set our souls in order as we did our watches. She looked up at me in pure surprise to hear such things from my lips; and as I saw I might never get a better opportunity than the present, I began to open a little further, and told her that I had come there with Master Lee specially for her sake, hearing from him that she took interest in matters of religion, and that I was ready to explain the Catholic doctrine to her, and satisfy all the doubts she could possibly have; moreover, that I could point out the way to a height of virtue which she had hitherto never dreamt of, for that in heresy she could neither find that way, nor any who made account of it. She was struck with what I said, and promised to find some opportunity for further conversation, when we might speak more fully on the matter. I gave her this hint of a higher virtue, because she had been represented to me, as she really was, as a lady of most earnest and conscientious character.

“She found the time according to her promise; all her difficulties were removed, and she became a Catholic. After reconciling her to the Church, I made some other converts in the same house; then I recommended her a Catholic maid, and suggested that she should keep a Priest always in the house, to which she gladly assented. This was a thing that might easily be managed, not indeed as it was in our house, where the whole household was Catholic, and knew us to be Priests; but a Priest could well live in the upper part of the house, from which all heretics might be kept away, especially now that some of the servants were Catholics. And, indeed, the accommodation was such that I do not know any place in England where a Priest who wished to be private could live more conveniently. For he could have, in the first place, a fine room to himself, opening on a spacious corridor of some eighty paces, which looked on a garden, the laying out of which had cost, as I was told, ten thousand florins [1,000_l._]; in this corridor, moreover, was a separate room, which would serve excellently as a chapel, and another for his meals, with fire-places and every convenience. It was a pity, I said, that such a place had not a resident Priest, where the mistress was a devout Catholic, and the master no enemy to religion. Her husband, indeed, made no difficulty of receiving Priests; nay, he sometimes came to hear me preach, and at last went so far as to be fond of dressing the altar with his own hands, and of saying the breviary: yet with all this he still remains outside the ark, liable to be swept off by the waters of the deluge when they break forth, for he presumes too much on an opportunity of doing penance before death.

“The lady then readily fell in with my suggestion of having a Priest in her house; so I brought thither Father Antony Hoskins, a man of great ability, who had lately come over from Spain, where he had spent ten years in the Society with remarkable success in his studies. Being placed there, he did a great deal of good on all sides, and remained with them almost up to the present time, when at length he has been removed and put to greater things. He did not, however, stay constantly at home, for he is a man whom, when once known, many would wish to confer with, so that he was forced to go about at times. At present there is another Father in the house, a most devoted man. But the lady directs herself chiefly by Father Percy, who this very week addressed me a letter in the following words:—‘Such a one’ (meaning this lady of whom I have been speaking) ‘is going on very well. She has put her whole house under the protection of our Blessed Lady of Loretto, and offers her heart to her, to serve her and her Son for ever, with all that she possesses; and in token of this she has had made a beautiful heart of gold, which she wishes to send to Loretto by the first opportunity. We desire, therefore, to hear from you by whom she can send this offering.’ Thus he writes about this lady. In this way then, by the grace of God, was this house, with its domestic church, established and confirmed in the Faith.

“Master Roger also introduced me to some neighbours of his; among others to a gentleman of the Queen’s Court,”(120) Sir Everard Digby, “who had inherited a large estate, and had married a lady who was sole heiress to all her father’s property,” Mary Mulshaw, of Gothurst, in Buckinghamshire. “Not one of this family was a Catholic, nor even inclined to the Catholic faith. The wife’s father, who was the head of the house, was a thorough heretic, and had his thoughts entirely occupied in hoarding money for his daughter, and increasing her revenues. His son-in-law devoted himself wholly to juvenile sports. When in London, he attended at Court, being one of the Queen’s gentlemen pensioners; but in the country he spent almost his whole time in hunting and hawking. Hence it happened that Master Roger Lee, who was a neighbour of his, and fond of similar sports, often joined him on such occasions, and brought his falcons to hawk in company. We two, therefore, took advantage of this acquaintanceship, and I was introduced to this gentleman’s house as a friend and intimate of Master Lee’s. We made frequent visits there, and took every opportunity of speaking of Catholic doctrine and practice. I took care, however, that Master Lee should always speak more frequently and more earnestly than I, that no suspicion might arise about my real character. Indeed, so far was this gentleman from having the least suspicion about me, that he seriously asked Master Lee whether he thought I was a good match for his sister, whom he wished to see married well, and to a Catholic, for he looked on Catholics as good and honourable men.

“We had, therefore, as I said, frequent converse on matters of salvation; and the wife was the first to listen with any fruit, at a time when she was living in the country but her husband was up in town. Her parents were now dead, and she was mistress of the house, so that we were able to deal more directly with her. At last she came to the point of wishing to be a Catholic, and told me she should be glad to speak with a Priest. I could scarce forbear a smile at this. I answered, however, that the thing might be managed, and that I would speak with Master Lee on the subject. ‘In the meantime,’ I added, ‘I can teach you the way to examine your conscience, as I myself was taught to do it by an experienced Priest.’ So I told Master Roger that as she was now determined and prepared, he might inform her of my being a Priest. This he did, but she for some time refused to believe it, saying, ‘How is it possible he can be a Priest? Has he not lived among us rather as a courtier? Has he not played at cards with my husband, and played well too, which is impossible for those not accustomed to the game? Has he not gone out hunting with my husband, and frequently in my hearing spoken of the hunt and of the hawks in proper terms, without tripping, which no one could but one who has been trained to it?’

“Many other things she adduced to show I could not be a Priest: to all of which Master Lee replied, ‘It is true that he said and did what you say; and unless he had done so, how could he have gained entrance here, and conversed with you, and by his conversation brought you to the Faith? For if he had presented himself as a Priest (which he would much prefer, were it feasible), how would your father, who was then living, have allowed his introduction, or you yourselves?’

“She could not but admit the truth of this; yet she found it hard to believe that it was so. ‘I pray you,’ she said, ‘not to be angry with me, if I ask further whether any other Catholic knows him to be a Priest but you. Does so-and-so know him?’

“ ‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘and goes to confession to him.’

“Then she mentioned other names, and at last that of my hostess, who lived in the neighbourhood, but ten miles off.

“ ‘Does she, too, know him as a Priest, and deal with him as such?’

“ ‘Why,’ said Master Lee, ‘she not only knows him as a Priest, but has given herself, and all her household, and all that she has, to be directed by him, and takes no other guide but him.’

“Then at length she confessed herself satisfied.

“ ‘You will find him, however,’ added Master Lee, ‘quite a different man when he has put off his present character.’

“This she acknowledged the next day, when she saw me in my soutane and other priestly garments, such as she had never before seen. She made a most careful confession, and came to have so great an opinion of my poor powers, that she gave herself entirely to my direction, meditated great things, which, indeed, she carried out, and carries out still.

“When this matter was thus happily terminated, we all three consulted together, how we could induce her husband to enter also into St. Peter’s net. Now, it so happened that he had fallen sick in London, and his wife on hearing it determined to go and nurse him. We, however, went up before her, and, travelling more expeditiously, had time to deal with him before she came. I spoke to him of the uncertainty of life, and the certainty of misery, not only in this life, but especially in the next, unless we provided against it: and I showed him that we have here no abiding city, but must look for one to come. As affliction oftentimes brings sense, so it happened in his case; for we found but little difficulty in gaining his goodwill. And as he was a man of solid sense and excellent heart, he laid a firm foundation from the beginning. He prepared himself well for confession, after being taught the way; and when he learnt that I was a Priest, he felt no such difficulty in believing as his wife had done, because he had known similar cases; but he rather rejoiced at having found a confessor who had experience among persons of his rank of life, and with whom he could deal at all times without danger of its being known that he was dealing with a Priest. After his reconciliation, he began on his part to be anxious about his wife, and wished to consult with us how best to bring her to the Catholic religion. We both smiled at this, but said nothing at that time, determining to wait till his wife came up to town, that we might witness how each loving soul would strive to win the other.

“Certainly they were a favoured pair. Both gave themselves wholly to God’s service, and the husband afterwards sacrificed all his property, his liberty, nay, even his life, for God’s Church, as I shall relate hereafter. For this was that Sir Everard Digby, Knight, of whom later on I should have had to say many things, if so much had not been already written and published about him and his companions. But never in any of these writings has justice been done to the sincerity of his intention, nor the circumstances properly set forth which would put his conduct in its true light.

“After this they both came to see me at my residence in the country. But while there he was again taken ill, and that so violently and dangerously, that all the Oxford doctors despaired of his life. As, therefore, in all likelihood he had not long to live, he began to prepare himself earnestly for a good death, and his wife to think of a more perfect way of life. For some days she gave herself to learn the method of meditation, and to find out God’s will with regard to her future life, how she might best direct it to His glory. To be brief, she came to this determination, that if her husband should die, she would devote herself entirely to good works, observe perpetual chastity and exact obedience; that as for her property, which would be very extensive as they were without children, she would spend it all in pious uses according to my direction; she would herself live where and in what style I judged best for the advancement of God’s honour and the good of her own soul; and she added that her desire was to wear poor clothing wherever she might be, and observe all the rules of poverty. All this was to be while the persecution might last in England. If, however, it should cease, and England should become Catholic, then she would give her house (a very large and fine one), and all the property her father left her, for the foundation of a College of the Society: and this would have been amply sufficient for a first-rate foundation.

“This was her resolution, but God had otherwise arranged, and for that time happily. For when all the Oxford doctors gave up Sir Everard’s case as hopeless, I, who loved him much, did not lose heart, but without his knowledge I sent for a certain Cambridge doctor, a Catholic, and a man of much learning and experience, whom I had known to cure cases abandoned by other physicians. On his arrival at our house, where Sir Everard Digby then was with his wife, after telling him all about the patient, I got him to examine the sick man himself, and learn from him all about his habit of body and general constitution. Then I asked him if he thought there was any hope. He answered, ‘If Sir Everard will venture to put himself entirely in my hands, I have good hopes, with the help of God, of bringing him round.’

“The patient on hearing this said to me, ‘Since this doctor is known to your Reverence, and is chosen by you, I give myself willingly into his hands.’

“By this doctor, then, he was cured beyond all expectation, and so completely restored to perfect health that there was not a more robust or stalwart man in a thousand. He was a most devoted friend to me, just as if he had been my twin-brother. And this name of brother we always used in writing to each other. How greatly he was attached me, may be seen from the following incident. Once when I had gone to a certain house to assist a soul in agony, he got to learn that I was in great danger there: upon this he at first expressed a terrible distress, and then immediately said to his wife that if I should be taken, he was resolved to watch the roads by which I should be carried prisoner to London, and take with him a sufficient number of friends and servants to rescue me by force from those who had me in custody; and if he should miss me on the road, he would accomplish my release one way or another, even though he should spend his whole fortune in the venture. Such, then, was his attachment to me at that time, and this he retained always in the same—nay, rather in an increased—degree to the end of his life; as he showed by the way he spoke of me when pleading for his life before the public court. At this time, however, as I said, he was restored to health; and he and his wife got together a little domestic church after the pattern of that in our own house, and built a chapel with a sacristy, furnishing it with costly and beautiful vestments, and obtained a Priest of the Society for their chaplain, who remained with them to Sir Everard’s death.

“What was done by this family was done by others also. For many of the Catholic gentry coming to our house, and seeing the arrangements and manner of life, followed the example themselves, establishing a sort of congregation in each of their houses, providing handsome altar furniture, making convenient arrangements for the residence of Priests, and showing especial respect and reverence to them.

“Among those who came to this determination was a certain lady resident near Oxford, whose husband was indeed a Catholic, but overmuch devoted to worldly pursuits. She, however, gave herself to be directed by me as far as she could, having such a husband. I often visited them, and was always welcomed by both; and there I established one of our Fathers, Edward Walpole, whom I mentioned at an early part of this narrative as having left a large patrimony for the sake of following Christ our Lord, in the first year of my residence in England.

“There was another lady also who had a similar wish: she was a relative of my hostess, and she also resided in the county of Oxford. Her husband was a Knight of very large property, who hoped to be created a Baron, and still hopes for it. This lady came on a visit to our house, and wished to learn the way of meditating, which I taught her; but as her husband was a heretic, it was impossible for her to have a Priest in her house, as she greatly wished. She took, however, the resolution of supporting a Priest, who should come to her at convenient times. She resolved, also, to make a meditation every day, and to give one or two hours daily to spiritual reading, when she had no guests in the house. On her coming to me every six months, I found that she had never omitted her meditation, nor her daily examination of conscience, except on one occasion when her husband insisted on her staying with the guests. Yet she had a large and busy household to superintend, and a continual coming and going of guests.

“It happened on one occasion when I was in this lady’s house, and was sitting with her after dinner, the servants having gone down to get their own dinner, that suddenly a guest was shown up who had just arrived. This was an Oxford Doctor of Divinity, a heretic of some note and a persecutor of Catholics; his name was Dr. Abbot.(121) He had just before this published a book against Father Southwell, who had been executed, and Father Gerard, who had escaped from the Tower, because these two had defended the doctrine of equivocation, which he chose to impugn. After this publication, the good man had been made Dean of Winchester, a post which brought him in a yearly income of eight thousand florins [800_l._]. This man then, as I said, was shown up, and entered the dining-room, dressed in a sort of silk soutane coming down to his knees, as is the manner of their chief ministers. We were in appearance sitting at cards, though when the servants had all left the room we had laid the cards down to attend to better things. Hearing, however, this gentleman announced, we resumed our game, so that he found us playing, with a good sum of money on the table.

“I may here mention, that when I played thus with Catholics, with the view of maintaining among a mixed company the character in which I appeared, I always agreed that each one should have his money back afterwards, but should say an _Ave Maria_ for each piece that was returned to him. It was on these terms that I frequently played with my brother Digby and other Catholics, where it appeared necessary, so that the by-standers thought we were playing for money, and were in hot earnest over it.

“So also this minister never conceived the slightest suspicion of me, but after the first courtesies began to talk at a pretty pace: for this is the only thing those chattering ministers can do, who possess no solid knowledge, but by the persuasive words of human wisdom lead souls astray, and subvert houses, teaching things that are not convenient. So he, after much frivolous talk, began to tell us the latest news from London; how a certain Puritan had thrown himself down from the steeple of a church, having left it in writing that he knew himself to be secure of his eternal salvation. About this writing, however, the learned Doctor said nothing, but I had heard the particulars myself from another quarter.

“ ‘Wretched man!’ said I; ‘what could induce him thus to destroy body and soul by one and the same act!’

“ ‘Sir,’ said the Doctor, learnedly enough and magisterially, ‘we must not judge any man.’

“ ‘True,’ I replied; ‘it is just possible that, as he was falling, he repented of his sin: _inter pontem et fontem_, as they say. But this is extremely improbable; since the last act of the man of which we have any means of judging was a mortal sin and deserving of damnation.’

“ ‘But,’ said the Doctor, ‘we cannot know whether this was such a sin.’

“ ‘Nay,’ I replied, ‘this is not left to our judgment; it is God’s own verdict, when He forbids us under pain of hell to kill any one: a prohibition which applies especially to the killing of ourselves, for charity begins from oneself.’

“The good Doctor being here caught, said no more on this point, but turned the subject, and said, smiling, ‘Gentlemen must not dispute on theological matters.’

“ ‘True,’ said I, ‘we do not make profession of knowing theology; but at least we ought to know the law of God, though our profession is to play at cards.’

“The lady with whom I was playing, hearing him speak to me in this way, could scarce keep her countenance, thinking within herself what he would have said if he had known who it was he was answering. The Doctor, however, did not stay much longer. Whether he departed sooner than he at first intended, I know not; but I know that we much preferred his room to his company.”

XXIV.

“I must now return to London, and relate what happened after John Lilly was taken, and the gentleman imprisoned with whom I rented my London house. This house being now closed to me, I sought out another, but on a different plan. I did not now join in partnership with any one, because I was unwilling to be in the house of one known to be a Catholic. I managed that this new house should be hired by a nephew of Master Roger Lee, whom with his wife I had reconciled to the Catholic Church; and, as he was not known to be a Catholic, the house was entirely free from all suspicion. I had the use of this house for three years, and during that time it was not once searched; nor even before the Queen’s death, though there were many general searches made, and the prisons were choked with Catholics, did they ever come to this house.

“I had a man to keep the house who was a schismatic, but otherwise an honest and upright person. When I was in residence, this man provided me with necessaries; and when I was away, he managed any business for me according to my written directions. In all appearance he was the servant of the gentleman who owned the house, and so he was esteemed and called by the neighbours; and since, as a schismatic, he frequented their churches, they entertained no suspicion of him, nor of the house.

“For myself, when I came to town, I always entered the house after dark, and in summer time scarce ever went out while I remained there. But my friends would come to visit me by ones and twos on different days, that no special attention might be drawn to the house from the number of visitors. Nor did they ever bring any servants with them, though some were of very high rank, and usually went about with a large number of attendants. By these means I provided better for them and for myself, and was able to continue longer in this way of life....”

“When I was in London I did not allow every one to come to my house whose desire to converse with me I was willing to gratify; but I would sometimes, especially after dark in winter time, go myself to their houses. On one occasion I was asked by a certain lady to her house to hear the confession of a young nobleman attached to the Court, who was a dear friend of her husband’s. Her husband was also a Catholic and well known to me: though quite a young man, he had been one of the principal captains in the Irish war. And the young nobleman just mentioned was a Baron, and son to an Irish Earl, and at this present writing he has himself succeeded to the earldom on his father’s death.(122) This young Baron, then,” Lord Dunkellin, “wished to make his confession to me. As I had not known him before, I put a few questions to him, according to my wont, beforehand. I asked him, therefore, if he was prepared at once. He answered that he was. I then asked how often in the year he was accustomed to go to the Sacraments. ‘Twice or thrice in the year,’ he said.

“ ‘It would be better,’ said I, ‘to come more frequently, and then less preparation would be necessary. As it is, I should advise you to take a few days for the exact and diligent examination of your conscience, according to the method that I will show you; then you will come with greater fruit, and with greater satisfaction to yourself and to me. And for the future I would recommend a more frequent use of the holy Sacraments.’ And I brought some reasons for my advice.

“He listened to me very patiently, and when I had finished he replied, ‘I will do in future what you recommend, and I would willingly follow your counsel at present, if it were possible; it is, however, impossible to put off my present confession.’

“ ‘Why is it impossible?’ I asked.

“ ‘Because,’ he replied, ‘to-morrow I shall be in circumstances of danger, and I desire to prepare myself by confession to-day.’

“ ‘What danger is this,’ I asked again, ‘to which you will be exposed?’

“ ‘There is a gentleman at Court,’ he said, ‘who has grievously insulted me, so that I was compelled in defence of my honour to challenge him to single combat, and we meet to-morrow at an appointed spot at some distance from town.’

“ ‘My lord,’ I exclaimed, ‘to approach the Sacrament in such a frame of mind is not to prepare yourself for danger, nor to cleanse your soul (though I doubt not it was with a good intention you proposed it), but rather to sully your soul more than ever, to affront God still further, and render Him still more your enemy. For to come to confession with a determination of taking vengeance is to put an obstacle to the grace of the Sacrament; and, moreover, this particular action on which you are resolved is not only a sin, but is visited with excommunication. I urge you, therefore, to give up this intention; you will be able to preserve your honour by some other way. Nay, the honour you think to preserve by this is not real honour, but merely the estimation of bad men founded on bad principles: men who exalt their own worldly ideas above the law and honour of God.’

“ ‘It is impossible to withdraw now,’ he said, ‘for the thing is known to many, and has been taken even to the Queen, who has expressly forbidden us to pursue the matter any further.’

“ ‘Well then,’ said I, ‘you have the best possible reason for laying aside the quarrel, namely, obedience to the Queen’s behest. Moreover, you must remember that you are known for the intimate friend of the Earl of Essex, and that, if you overcome your adversary, the Queen (if it be only to spite the Earl) will certainly visit you with some heavy punishment for having disregarded her commands; but if you should kill him, unquestionably she will take your life. On the other hand, if you should be vanquished, what becomes of the honour you wish to defend, and if you should be slain in that state of soul in which you go to the fight, you go straight to eternal fire and everlasting shame, for while you are defending your body from your adversary’s sword, you forget to parry the mortal thrust that the devil is aiming at your soul.’

“But spite of all I could say, the fear of the world, which is fatally powerful with men of this rank, prevailed, and his reply was, ‘I implore you, Father, to pray for me, and to hear my confession if you possibly can.’

“ ‘Certainly I cannot hear you,’ I said, ‘for that honour which you worship is not necessary to you, in the sense in which it is to those who are obliged to take their part in a war. Besides, you are the challenger, and you took this unlawful course when it was possible for you to follow some other method of vindicating yourself, and so whatever necessity there is for pursuing the matter has been created by yourself. But this is what I will do; I will give you from my reliquary a particle of the Holy Cross, inclosed with an Agnus Dei, and you shall wear it upon you. Perhaps God may have mercy upon you for the sake of this, and afford you time for penance. Understand, however, I do not give it you in order to encourage you in your bad purpose, but that you may wear it with all reverence and respect, so that, should you come into danger (which certainly I do not desire), God may be moved to preserve your life, in the consideration of the good will you have of honouring His Cross.’

“He took my gift very thankfully and reverentially, and had it sewed inside his shirt over his heart, for it was arranged that they should fight in their shirts without cuirass. It happened, God so allowing it, that his adversary made a lunge at his heart and pierced his shirt, but did not touch his skin. He on his side wounded and prostrated his enemy, then gave him his life and came off victorious. He then came to me in high spirits, and told me how he had been preserved by the power of the Holy Cross; then he thanked me very earnestly, and promised to be more on his guard in future. The Queen soon after took a fancy to this young nobleman, and kept him close to her at Court for a time. But tiring soon of this sort of life, at his father’s death he married the widow of the Earl of Essex. She was a heretic when he married her, but he soon made her a Catholic, and they both live now as Catholics in Ireland, as I hear.

“That Knight, moreover, who introduced this young Baron to me, followed my counsel at that time, and after devoting several days to a diligent examination of conscience, made a general confession of his whole life, with a view of reforming it for the future. A little later he was desirous of returning to the Irish wars, but as I was in doubt whether this was lawful in conscience, he promised me to resign his appointment and return to England, if the Priests there, to whom I referred him as living on the spot, and therefore having a closer knowledge of the circumstances, decided that it was unlawful. Soon after his arrival in Ireland, in a certain fight, while he was bravely mounting a wall and animating his men to follow, he was struck dead by a musket-ball. He had, however, before the fight, carefully written me a letter and sent it off, informing me that he had consulted the Priests in the country, and had received this answer, that it was lawful to fight against the Catholic party, because it was not clear to all why they had taken up arms.

“After his death a remarkable incident occurred, which I will relate. His wife, pious soul, who never had the least idea of her husband’s death, about that time heard every night some one knocking at her chamber door, and that so loudly as to wake her. Her maids heard it too, but on opening the door there was no one to be seen. She therefore got a Priest to stay with her and her maids till the usual time of the knocking, and when the same noise and knocking at the door were heard, the Priest himself went to the door, but found no one. This knocking went on till such time as news of her husband’s death reached her, as if it had been a warning from his Angel to pray for his soul....”

“Having held this house for three years, I let it to a Catholic friend, and took another house near the principal street in London, called the Strand. Since most of my friends lived in that street, they were thus able to visit me more easily, and I them. After my removal I discovered how entirely free from suspicion was the house which I had left, and in which I had dwelt for three years; for the servant who kept my house sent for a gardener with whom he had been acquainted in the other house (for the garden of the new house needed to be put in order), and the gardener remarked to him, ‘Some Papists have come to live in your old house:’ as though they who had previously dwelt there had been good Protestants.

“This new house was very suitable and convenient, and had private entrances on both sides, and I had contrived in it some most excellent hiding-places; and there I should long have remained, free from all peril or even suspicion, if some friends of mine, while I was absent from London, had not availed themselves of the house rather rashly. It remained, however, in the same state up to the time of the great and terrible disturbance of the Powder Plot, as I shall hereafter shortly mention.

“Meantime my friends brought me another who was heir to a barony, and is himself now a peer, and by God’s grace I persuaded him to take on his shoulders the yoke of the law of Christ and of the Catholic faith, and made him a member of the Church. Another whom I had previously known in the world, and had seen to be wholly devoted to every kind of vanity, fell sick. He had abounded with riches and pleasures, and passed his days in jollity, destined, however, to fall from thence in a moment, had not God patiently waited, and in a suitable time led him to penance. He then was lying sick of a grievous illness, but yet had not begun to think of death. I heard that he was sick, and obtained an entry into his chamber at eleven o’clock at night, after the departure of his friends. He recognized me, and was pleased at my visit. I explained why I had come, and warned him to think seriously of the state of his soul, and, instead of a Judge, render God a Friend and most loving Father, however much he might have wasted all his substance. So then weakness of body opened the ears of his heart, and in an acceptable time God heard us, and in the day of salvation helped us; insomuch that he offered himself as at once ready to make his confession. I, however, said I would return on the following night, and advised him meantime to procure that there should be read to him, by a friend whom I named, Father Lewis of Grenada’s _Explanation of the Commandments_: that after each Commandment he should occupy some little time in reflection, and call to mind how, and how often, he had offended against that Commandment; that he should then make an act of sorrow regarding each, and so go on to the next. He promised that he would do so, and I promised that I would return on the following night. This I did, and heard his confession; I gave him all the assistance I could, for the time had been short, especially for a sick man, to prepare for such a confession, but he dared no longer defer it, although he still seemed tolerably strong. I advised him to use the utmost care in discharging all his debts, which were great, through the extravagant expenditure in which he had indulged; I also exhorted him to redeem his sins by alms. He did both by the will he made the following day, and bequeathed a large sum for pious uses, which, as I heard, was honestly paid.

“I also bade him prepare for the Holy Communion and Extreme Unction against the following night, and to have some pious book read to him meantime. He not only did what I advised, but exhorted all that came to visit him on the following day, to repent at once of their former life, and not defer their amendment as he had done: ‘Do not,’ he said, ‘look for the mercy which I have found, for this is to be presumptuous and to irritate God; for I have deserved hell a thousand times on this account.’ And much more to the same effect did he speak, with so much earnestness and freedom, that all marvelled at so sudden a change. They asked him to hide the cross which he had hanging from his neck (for I had lent him my own cross full of relics to kiss, and exercise acts of reverence and love); but he answered, ‘Hide it! Nay, I would not hide it, even if the most bitter heretics were here. Too long have I refrained from profession of the Catholic faith, and now, if God gave me life, I would publicly profess myself a Catholic:’ so that all marvelled and were much edified and moved at his words. He spoke thus to all the peers and great men that visited him. His conversion thus became publicly known, and many of the courtiers afterwards spoke of it. On the third night of my visiting him according to my promise, he again made his confession with great expressions of sorrow, and begged for the Sacrament of Extreme Unction, and when he received it, himself arranged for me more conveniently to reach the different parts of his body, just as though he had been a Catholic many years. Seeing him in such good disposition, I asked him whether he did not put all his trust in the merits of Christ and in the mercy of God. ‘Surely!’ said he; ‘did I not do so, and did not that mercy give me salvation, I should have been condemned to the pit of hell; in myself I find no ground of hope, but rather of trembling. But I feel great hope in the mercy and goodness of God, Who has so long waited for me, and now has called me when I deserved, aye, and thought of, anything but this!’ Then he took my hand and said, ‘Father, I cannot express how much I am indebted to you, for you were sent by God to give me this happiness.’ I found, moreover, that he had no temptation against faith, but most firmly believed and confessed every point, and I saw most clearly that God had poured into his soul the habits of many virtues. Then I erected an altar in his chamber with the ornaments which I had brought, and I said Mass, while he assisted with great devotion and comfort. I afterwards gave him the Viaticum, which he received with the utmost reverence. When I had finished everything, I gave him some advice that would be useful should he fall into his agony before my return, and I left him full of consolation. Now, see the providence of God: but a few hours after my departure, as he was persevering in petitions for mercy, and in acts of thanksgiving for the mercy he had received, he rendered up his soul to God. But before his death, he asked the by-standers whether certain purple and red robes could be applied to the use of the altar, which he had received from the King when he was created a Knight of the Order of the Bath. The investiture of this order takes place only at the coronation of the King, and the Knights enjoy precedence before all other Knights except those of the most noble Order of the Garter, almost all of whom are Earls or other peers. He, however, was a Knight of the Bath, and he wished that the robes with which he had been invested at the coronation should be devoted to the use of the altar; for he said that he had derived great comfort from seeing my vestments, which were merely light and portable, but yet handsome, of red silk embroidered with silver lace. So after his death they gave me his suit of the peculiar robes of that order, and out of them I made sets of vestments of two colours, one of which the College of St. Omers still possesses. Thus is the pious desire of the deceased fulfilled, in whose conversion I could not fail to see God’s great goodness and providence.

“About the same time I received into the Church a lady, the wife of a certain Knight, who is at the present day a very good and useful friend of our Fathers. Her husband was at this time a heretic, but his brother had been brought by me, through the Spiritual Exercises, to despise the world and follow the counsels of Christ. He introduced me to his sister, and after one or two interviews she embraced the Catholic faith, although she was well assured that she would incur great losses as soon as it should become known to her husband, as in truth it came to pass. For he first tried caresses, then threats, and left no means unemployed to shake her resolution, insomuch that for a long time she had nothing to expect or hope but to be separated from her husband, and stripped of all the goods of the world, that so in patience she might possess her soul. When her husband was on her account deprived of the public employment which he held, she bore it with great fortitude, and remained ever constant and even in mind. At length, by her virtue and her patience, she rendered her husband a friend to Catholics, and afterwards himself a Catholic. He was reconciled by the ministry of Father Walpole, to whom I had recommended her on my leaving England.

“There were many other conversions, which I cannot mention separately, for I have already carried to too great length the narrative of these events, which are truly very insignificant if they are compared with the actions of others.”

XXV.

“One case more I cannot pass over, which gave me especial pleasure for the sake of the person concerned; for I do not know that any one was ever more dear to me.

“Sir Everard Digby, of whom I have spoken above, had a friend for whom he felt a peculiar affection. He had often recommended him to me, and was anxious to give me an opportunity of making his acquaintance and gaining him over, if it possibly might be; but because he held an office in the Court, requiring daily attendance about the King’s person, so that he could not be absent for long together, our desire was long delayed.

“At last Sir Everard met his friend, while we were both together in London; and he took an opportunity of asking him to come at a certain time to his chamber, to play at cards, for these are the books gentlemen in London study both night and day. He promised to come, and on his arrival he did not find a party at play, but only us two sitting and conversing very seriously; so Sir Everard asked him to sit down a little, until the rest should arrive. Then, in an interval of silence, Sir Everard said, ‘We two were engaged in a very serious conversation, in fact, concerning religion. You know,’ he said, addressing the visitor, ‘that I am friendly to Catholics and to the Catholic faith; I was, nevertheless, disputing with this gentleman, who is a friend of mine, against the Catholic faith, in order to see what defence he could make; for he is an earnest Catholic, as I do not hesitate to tell you.’ Then, turning to me, he begged me not to be vexed that he betrayed me to a stranger. ‘And I must say,’ he continued, ‘he so well defended the Catholic faith that I could not answer him, and I am glad that you have come to help me.’

“The visitor was young and confident, and trusting in his own great abilities, expected to carry everything before him, so good was his cause and so lightly did he esteem me, as he afterwards confessed. So he began to allege many objections to the arguments before used. I waited with patience until he ceased speaking, and then answered in few words. He urged his points, and so we argued one against the other for a short hour’s space. Afterwards I began to explain my view more fully, and to confirm it with texts of Holy Scripture and passages from the Fathers, and with such reasons as came to my mind. And I felt, as I often did, God supplying me words as I spoke on His behalf in great might, not for the sake of me that spoke, nor for any desert of mine, but just as He gives milk to a mother when she has an infant who needs to be fed with milk. My young friend was of a docile nature, and could no way bear to speak against the truth when he saw it; so that he listened in silence, and God was meantime speaking to his heart with a voice far more powerful and efficacious. God, too, gave him ears to hear, so that the word fell not upon stony ground, nor among thorns, but into good soil, yea, very good, that yielded by God’s grace a hundred-fold in its season. So before he left, he was fully resolved to become a Catholic, and took with him a book to assist him in preparing for a good confession, which he made before a week had passed. And from that time it was not enough for him to walk in the ordinary path of God’s commandments, but God prepared him for higher things; and whatever counsels I gave him he received with eagerness, and retained not only in a faithful memory, but in a most ready will. He began to use the daily examination of conscience, and even learned the method of meditation, and made a meditation every day. He was forced to rise very early to do this before he went to the King, which in summer was at break of day, for the King went hunting every day, and he, by duty of his office, was necessarily present at the royal breakfast. He would, moreover, so with his whole soul devour pious books, that he always had one in his pocket; and in the King’s Court and in the Presence-chamber, while courtiers and ladies were standing around, you might see him turn himself to a window, and there read a chapter of Thomas à Kempis’ _Imitation of Christ_, a book with which he was most intimate; and after he had read it, you might see him turn in body, but not in mind, towards the others, for there he would stand rapt in thought, while the rest perhaps were supposing that he was admiring the beauty of some lady, or thinking over the means to climb to great honours. In truth, he had no need to take particular pains about this, for, in the first place, he was son and brother to an Earl, and, moreover, the place and office which he filled were very honourable, giving him the ear of the King every day. His wit could not fail to distinguish favourable opportunities for gaining his requests, and, in fact, the King had given him an office which he afterwards sold, but which, had he kept it, would have brought him in more than ten thousand florins [1,000_l._] a year. In short, such was his position that he would undoubtedly have soon risen to great honours; for he made himself acceptable to all, and was not a little beloved, insomuch that after he had left the Court and given up all hope of worldly honour, I heard it said by some persons of the greatest eminence and experience in the ways of the Court, that they had never in forty years’ space known any one so highly valued and beloved in every quarter.

“But, what is far more important, he was beloved in the Court of the King of Kings, and inspired to desire and seek after greater and more abiding blessings. So he conceived the wish of trying the Spiritual Exercises, in the course of which he determined to desert the Court, and devote himself to those pursuits which would render him most pleasing to God and most profitable to his neighbour; so with as little delay as possible he made such a disposition of his goods as would enable him freely to make his escape from England. He then, to the surprise of all, asked and obtained the King’s leave to go to Italy, where he still resides, and he is so well known to our Fathers that there is no need to write anything more concerning him; but this I can say, that wherever I have known him to have been, he has left men filled with great esteem for him, and expectation of yet greater things....”

“The conversions which took place in the country were not few, and some were cases of heads of families; but I have already gone to great length, and I will here recount one only, the beginning and end of which I saw to be good.

“There was a lady, a kinswoman of my hostess, whose husband had now many years been a Catholic, yet neither her husband, nor any of her friends, nor my hostess herself, who loved her as a sister, could ever lead her to become a Catholic. She did not object to listen to Catholics, even to Priests, and was fond of earnest argument with them; but she would believe no one but herself, and indeed her talents were greater than I have often met with in a woman. My hostess often mourned over this lady, and grieved that no remedy could be found; she wished that I should once see her. She spoke highly in praise of her talents and amiable disposition, and of her life and behaviour in all respects, with the one solitary exception of her being an obstinate heretic. I asked my hostess, therefore, to invite her to pay us a visit, although she lived in a distant county. She came according to the invitation, and we took care that she should find me showing myself in public, and dressed as though I had been a guest just arrived from London. On the first two days we did but little, for we knew that she would have plenty of time afterwards, and I wished to remove all timidity from her; for though she had been accustomed to meet Priests at that house, yet they had kept mostly to their chambers. But as soon as I judged her to be convinced that I was a Catholic, but not a Priest, I began slowly to turn my conversation with her often upon religion. At first I spoke little, but to such purpose that she could not answer me; and so I left her, not urging her, but rather leaving her with a desire to hear more. At length, after a few days, I judged her thoroughly prepared, and I arranged that my hostess should begin to talk seriously upon these topics, and that when she saw me enter into the conversation and carry it on, she should leave us in company with one or two of the lady’s daughters, for she had brought three with her. This having been done, we began the combat with, as it seemed to her, various success, for one or two hours; and then she listened to me as I spoke without interruption for two or three hours more. She spoke little in answer, and did not like on the spot to acknowledge herself vanquished, but she thanked me heartily, and went away quite red and flushed in the face. She was truly moved, or, rather, changed interiorly, and straightway she ran to my hostess and said, ‘Oh, cousin, what have you done?’

“ ‘What have I done?’ replied the other.

“ ‘Oh, who is it,’ she rejoined, ‘that you introduced me to? Is he such a one as you represented to me? At any rate, he is,’ ... and she spoke in much higher terms of my learning and language than I deserved, and she added that she could not resist what I urged, nor answer it.

“On the following day God confirmed what He had wrought in her, and she surrendered at discretion, and accepted a book to help her to prepare for confession. Meantime, with the mother’s consent and assistance, I instructed her three daughters, and when they had learned the catechism, I heard their confessions. The mother, however, during the time of her preparation, began to be filled with trouble and sorrow, not on account of leaving her heresy, but through fear of confession. I, on the contrary, encouraged her to persevere, and adduced arguments against her timidity, but I could not rid her of it, and so, seeing that she was ready as far as examination was concerned, but nevertheless put the matter off from day to day, and begged a little more time to prepare, I would not consent. I told her that this came from the enemy, who grieved to leave his habitation, and at length she saw and acknowledged this. For as soon as out of obedience she had made her confession, she felt relieved of a great burden, and filled with consolation; and she told me that now she was glad not to have delayed longer.

“I have often found this, that some souls experience great trouble when first they make confession on being reconciled to the Church of God. Some persons even fall sick and faint, so as to be forced to cease speaking for a time and sit down, until they have recovered a little and are able to continue; and this has happened even when at their first coming they were in sound health, and ready to confess. And then when they recommenced, they again fell ill, and this happened two or three times in the course of their first confession. But when the confession was finished, they not only felt no sickness, but having received absolution, they went away full of joy and consolation. Some, in fact, have remarked to me, that did men but know what consolation is gained in confession, they would never be deprived of so great a happiness.

“Among these was to be reckoned this lady, who came forth from confession full of consolation, and gave most hearty thanks to her cousin, for that by her means she had been admitted to share in so great a happiness. So great was God’s mercy towards her, that thenceforth she gave herself wholly up to devotion. On her return home she devoted herself to making handsome vestments, and, whenever she was able, she procured the company of Priests. And not content with this, she was anxious to return wholly to our house, and to dwell with us, in order to have more frequent access to the Sacraments, and the opportunity of hearing the public and private exhortations that we had every Sunday and Festival-day. She stayed with us about two years, and all that time she gave herself up to devotion and the constant reading of pious books. She was clearly led to this course of life by the special mercy and providence of God; for at the end of the period I have mentioned, although she seemed stout and strong, she was suddenly attacked with disease, by which, within a few days, she was so weakened, that no skill of the physicians could restore her strength. She was warned to prepare for the life to come, and she repeated a good and careful confession of her whole life.

“At length, finding herself in her last agony, she wished to write a letter to her brother, who was a heretic, and almost the greatest enemy the Catholics had in the county in which he dwelt. To him, then, she wished to send a letter, written by her daughter’s hand, but subscribed with her own, to the following effect: That he knew she had long been a strenuous upholder of this new religion, so that he might be the more convinced that she would not have changed it without good grounds, and that she had certain and unanswerable authorities for the faith which she had adopted; wherefore she protested to him that ever since the time when she embraced the faith she had lived in peace of conscience, and that never before that time had she enjoyed true internal consolation; finally, she begged him to have a care of his soul, and proceeded thus: ‘I, your sister, now at the point of death, by these my last words, beg and beseech you to embrace the Catholic and ancient faith; and I protest that there is no other in which you can be saved.’ These were her sentiments when almost come into her last agony, from which I perceived that she was wholly converted from heresy, and full of charity towards her neighbour; so having asked her a few questions, and found that she was not troubled with any temptations of presumption or of despair, I gave her as much help as I could in forming and uttering acts of the opposite virtues. After which, when she was on the point of death, I offered her a picture of the Passion of Christ, and she embraced and kissed it with the greatest affection. I put also a blessed medal into her hands, and reminded her to invoke the name of Jesus in her heart at least, in order to gain the indulgences, although she could not speak. I then asked her to give some sign to show that she did thus from her heart, whereupon she caught hold of the medal and kissed it, repeating this action several times. Observing she made answer to me by signs, I bade her conceive a great sorrow for ever having offended God, Who was so good in Himself, and had shown so great mercy to her, and to give a sign of it by raising her hand: she did so with great earnestness; then to conceive sorrow that she had ever been in heresy, and had resisted God and the Church, of which also she gave a sign; then to conceive the wish that all heretics might be converted, and that she willingly offered her life for their conversion, and she again made the signal with great earnestness, and also took my hand within her own, which were already chill, and held it firmly, repeating the signs that she was pleased with the suggestions I made to her. And I continued up to her last gasp, encouraging her, and exhorting her to praise God in her heart, to desire that all creatures should praise and serve Him, and to offer her life for this end. And she gave me answer to everything, now raising, now lowering her hand; just as I asked her to do in assent to what I suggested. All the by-standers, who were numerous, and a Priest also who was among them, were in great admiration, and declared that they never witnessed such a death as this. For she continued, as I have said, responding to my suggestions up to the very last breath, raising her hand slightly when she could no longer raise it much. In these interior acts she gave up her soul, without any trouble of mind or convulsion of body, but like one going off to sleep, she went to rest in peace.

“Her youngest daughter had already died holily in our house before her mother. The second daughter married a rich man, and brought him to me from a considerable distance to be made a Catholic. The eldest still lives in the same house, to be espoused not to man but to God, for she has a vocation to the Religious state. In the meantime she lives there religiously, and devotes herself to the service of Religious, as the lady of the house always did, and does still....”

“I gave the Spiritual Exercises in this house to many others, as well to those who formed part of the family as to others; and in each case the fruit which I hoped for was produced....”

“But suddenly all things were upset for a time, and all good hindered by the Powder Plot, as it is called. And if proof were wanting that I knew nothing of this affair, this alone would be sufficient, that at that very time I had sent several from England across the sea into these parts. One was a lady, who was going to be a Nun in the Benedictine Convent at Brussels, whither I had sent two others not long before, who are now in high authority there. Another had been an heretical minister, whom I had brought to the Faith and instructed. He was the last that I received into the Church before these disturbances. When these persons, with certain others, were on the point of crossing the Channel, orders were sent to allow no ships to leave; they were, consequently, all taken and thrown into prison, from which they were released two years ago. He who had been a minister is at present studying in the Roman College; and the lady of whom I spoke is now professed in the convent whither she was going when she was taken. Only one other minister besides the one just mentioned did I convert in England, and he is now a Priest and is working in that vineyard. I also sent over many youths to the Seminaries while I was in this last residence of mine, who will, by God’s help, give fruit in due season.

“But if we have received good things from God’s hands, why should we not also bear with evil things?—if those things can be truly called evil which are sent from Him, and therefore sent that He may draw good from them, for those who receive them well, and humbly recognize and adore His providence, both when He gives and when He takes away. He had, indeed, given me many and great consolations in this residence; interior consolations chiefly, from conversions and from the signal progress in virtue of many souls; but exterior consolations were not wanting. For in external matters everything was well and abundantly supplied me. I had several excellent horses for my missionary journeys, and all that I could wish for to carry on the work I had in hand. Then, in the house itself, the arrangements were made in the best way both for our health and our convenience. And for companion I had Father Strange, who is now in the Tower(123) (for Master Digby had obtained Father Percy from the Superior), and another Priest who resided a long time with us. We had, moreover, good store of useful books, which were kept in a library without any concealment, because they had the appearance of belonging to the young Baron, and of having been left him by his uncle,(124) who was a very learned and studious nobleman, and was well known for his piety. He had, in fact, resigned the right and title of the barony to his younger brother, the father of the present lord, in order that he might more entirely and securely devote himself to God and his studies. If he had lived a little longer, he would assuredly have been a member of our Society, for on his death-bed this was the only thing that caused him regret, namely, that he could not then be admitted into the Society, a thing he desired most earnestly.

“Our vestments and altar furniture were both plentiful and costly. We had two sets for each colour which the Church uses; one for ordinary use, the other for Feast-days: some of these latter were embroidered with gold and pearls, and figured by well-skilled hands. We had six massive silver candlesticks on the altar, besides those at the sides for the Elevation; the cruets were of silver also, as were the basin for the lavabo, the bell, and the thurible. There were, moreover, lamps hanging from silver chains, and a silver crucifix on the altar. For greater Festivals, however, I had a crucifix of gold, a foot in height, on the top of which was represented a pelican, while on the right arm of the cross was an eagle with expanded wings carrying on its back its young ones, who were also attempting to fly; on the left arm a phœnix expiring in flames that it might leave an offspring after it; and at the foot was a hen with her chickens, gathering them under her wings. All this was made of wrought gold by a celebrated artist....”

“But I, who was not sufficiently grateful to God for these benefits which I have mentioned, and many others, was compelled to leave them to others who could use them better and to greater advantage.

“For since it was my chief friends who were involved in that disaster of the Powder Plot, the Council on this account believed me to be privy to it, and from the first sought for me with great persistence and severity. They sent certain magistrates to search our house most exactly, with orders, if they found me not, to stay in the house till recalled, to post guards all round the house every night, and to have men on the watch both day and night at a distance of three miles from the house on every side, who were to apprehend all whom they did not know and bring them before the Justices. All this was done to the letter. But immediately the news reached us of such a plot having been discovered, and we learnt that certain of our friends had been killed and others taken, expecting that in such a season we, too, should have something to suffer, we had made all snug before they came, so that they found nothing. They continued searching, however, for many days, till at last my hostess discovered to the Justice in chief command one of the hiding-places in which a few books had been stowed away, thinking that he would then desist from searching any further, under the impression that if a Priest had been in the house he would have been hidden there, yet they continued in the house for full nine days; and I, meanwhile, remained shut up in a hole where I could sit, but not stand upright. This time, however, I did not suffer from hunger, for every night food was brought to me secretly; nay, after four or five days, when the rigour of the search was somewhat relaxed, my friends even took me out at night and warmed me at a fire, for it was wintry weather, just before Christmas-tide. And when nine days had passed the searching party withdrew, believing it impossible I could be there so long without being discovered.

“In the meantime they had taken a Priest, who, knowing nothing of the watch set about the place, was coming to our house for safety. This good Priest (by name Thomas Laithwaite,(125) who is now of our Society, and is labouring in England) had left us a few days before at my request, when we heard of the Plot, in order to communicate with Father Garnett, and obtain from him for me instructions how to act in the present crisis. Even on his way thither he was taken, but escaped again for that time in the following manner. His captors took him to an inn, intending to bring him up for examination and committal the next day. On entering the inn he took off his cloak and sword and laid them on a bench; then, on pretence of looking after his horse and getting him taken to water, he went to the stable, and, as there was a stream near the house, he bade the boy lead the horse thither at once, and himself went along also. When they had come to the stream and the horse was drinking, ‘Go,’ said he to the lad, ‘get ready the hay and the straw for his bed, and I will bring him back when he has drunk.’ The boy returned to the stable without further thought, and he, mounting his horse, spurred him into the stream, and swam him to the opposite bank. Those in the inn, seeing his cloak and sword still lying there, had for some time no suspicion of his stratagem; but hearing from the stable-boy what had happened, they saw they had been outwitted, and immediately set off in pursuit. They were, however, too late, for the fugitive, knowing the way well, got to the house of a Catholic before night, and lay hid there for a few days. Then, finding that he could not get to Father Garnett, and thinking all danger had passed in our direction, he tried to return to me. But while avoiding Charybdis he fell into the clutches of Scylla; for, as I said above, he was taken on his way to our house, and dragged to London. They were not able, however, to prove him a Priest, and his brother was allowed to buy him his freedom for a sum of money.

“Two other Priests who were resident with me in that house (one of whom, as I said before, was Father Strange), at the beginning of their troubles wished to go to Father Garnett and remain with him. Both of them, however, were taken prisoners on their way; one was thrown into Bridewell, and was afterwards banished, together with other Priests, while Father Strange, the other, was sent to the Tower, where he suffered much, as has been before mentioned.”

XXVI.

“The history of the Plot, its causes and consequences, is but too well known; since it has been written by both friends and enemies, though perhaps by neither exactly as it ought to be. I myself, when I came from England to Rome, was ordered to put in writing an account of the whole affair, and did so as well as I could. There is no need, therefore, to repeat here what I wrote at length on that occasion....”(126)

“I will now add a few words about myself before closing this narrative. I have stated in the other treatise, of which I spoke, that a proclamation was issued against three Jesuit Fathers, of whom I was one; and, though the most unworthy, I was named first in the proclamation, whereas I was the subject of one, and far inferior in all respects to the other. All this, however, I solemnly protest, was utterly groundless; for I knew absolutely nothing of the Plot from any one whatsoever, not even under the seal of confession as the other two did; nor had I the slightest notion that any such scheme was entertained by any Catholic gentleman, until by public rumour news was brought us of its discovery, as it was to all others dwelling in that part of the country.

“When I saw by that long search of nine days that I was sought after and aimed at in particular, I wrote a public letter, as if to some friends, in which, by many arguments, and by protestations beyond all cavil, I maintained my entire innocence of the charges brought against me. Of this