“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 [pg cvi] 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 [pg cvii] 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 [pg cviii] 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 [pg cix] 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 [pg cx] 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 [pg cxi] 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 [pg cxii] 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.”