Both Catesby and Fawkes left Gothurst as October wore on; so also did any other conspirators who may have visited it. Most of them betook themselves to White Webbs, a desolate, half-timbered house, with “many trap-doors and passages,”[231] on Enfield Chase, to the north of London, about ten miles from the cellar where their gunpowder lay.

This house had been taken, a long time before this, by Anne Vaux, and was rented by her[232] as a convenient place near London for the meeting of priests and the Catholic laity. Unfortunately, it had gradually got more into the hands of her relatives, who found it useful for other purposes. These relatives were Catesby and Tresham.

At one time White Webbs had been inhabited almost exclusively by Jesuits, being used as a centre for the renovation of vows, religious retreats, and conferences upon the affairs of their missions.[233] In his examination,[234] Father Garnet said “that it was a spacious house fitt to receave so great a company that should resort to him thither; there being two bedds placed in a chamber, but thinketh there have not been above the number of 14 Jesuits at one time there.”Disastrously for himself and his order, he was obliged to confess[235] that “Catesby and Wynter, or Mr Catesby alone, came to him to White Webbs and tould this exam^t. there was a plott in hand for the Cath^c. cause against the King and the State,” assuring him that it was something quite “lawfull”; but that he had “dissuaded him,”and that “he promised to surceasse.”

It was no secret that White Webbs had been one of the principal meeting-places of the Jesuits; therefore, after they had given up going there, and it had got into the hands of Catesby and his band of conspirators, the Government, not altogether unnaturally, supposed that the Jesuits had purposely assigned it to the plotters as a convenient place from which to carry out their dread design.

This, however, was not the case; for, in October 1605, Father Garnet had intended to have gone thither, but finding that Catesby and his friends had established themselves in the house, most likely with the purpose of carrying out the “plott in hand,” which he so greatly feared, he did not dare to go there,[236] “and so accepted the offer of Sir Everard to be his tenants at Coughton.”He felt the more anxious to go to Coughton because Catesby had promised to come there on the 31st;[237] and he says, “I assuredly, if they had come, had entered into the matter, and perhaps might have hindered all.”As the modern Jesuit, Father Pollen, says, “to be able to do this he would, of course, have to ask Catesby to allow him to open the matter, but of success in this, considering that Catesby had of his own accord offered to tell him, he did not much doubt, and, perhaps to make the negotiations easier, he had ordered Greenway to be there too.”The pity is that he had not “entered into the matter”earlier. Nervous and horror-stricken, he had refused to allow Catesby to tell him the details, when he had reason for believing a plot to be brewing; he was tongue-tied when he afterwards met Catesby, having heard those details in confession; yet, after being for some time at Gothurst with Catesby, it was not until Catesby had left that he came to the conclusion that he might, and that it was highly desirable that he should, beg Catesby’s leave to speak to him of a subject which had been transmitted to him through the confessional, at Catesby’s desire.

A zealous Catholic like Sir Everard would be comforted by learning that an envoy had been privately despatched to Rome, to explain everything to the Pope, from the point of view of the conspirators, as soon as the great event should have taken place. The person selected for this purpose was Sir Edward Baynham, a member of a good Gloucestershire family, and an intimate friend of Catesby’s. He had started in September. Unluckily for himself, Father Garnet, on hearing that Baynham was going to Rome, as Catesby’s messenger, had encouraged it, believing,[238] “that he had procured Baynham’s mission in order to inform the Pope generally of the Plot, and that this was the reason why he so confidently expected from his Holiness a prohibition of the whole business.”Father Garnet’s approval of Baynham’s mission was thus capable of quotation, or rather misquotation, to Sir Everard Digby, and would naturally confirm the reports of his full approval of the conspiracy, as previously cited by Catesby.

This mission of Baynham to Rome was destined to bring trouble upon the conspirators, Sir Everard among them. In the indictment afterwards made against them, was the following Count.[239] “That after the destruction of the King, the Queen, the Prince, and the Royal Issue Male, the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, the Knights and Burgesses; they should notifie the same to Foreign States; and therefore Sir Edmund Bayham, an attainted person of Treason, and stiling himself prince of the damned crew, should be sent, and make the same known to the Pope, and crave his aid; an Ambassador fit, both for the message and persons, to be sent betwixt the Pope and the Devil.”

The last week of October must have been a time of great anxiety to Sir Everard. His companions at Gothurst appear to have been his wife and his two little children, Mrs Vaux, her sister-in-law, Anne Vaux, and Father Garnet. In the meantime he was making his preparations for the pretended coursing-meeting at Dunchurch. He was arranging how the arms, armour, and ammunition were to be conveyed in carts, covered over with other things to conceal them, and he was getting his men and horses ready for the start. He was also making preparations for the journey of his wife, children, and guests to Coughton, and for this party, alone, a good many servants and horses were required.

It is highly improbable that Catesby and the other conspirators at White Webbs kept up communications with their friend and ally at Gothurst; so most likely he was spared the anxiety of the news that on Saturday, the 26th, Lord Mounteagle had received, when at supper, an anonymous letter, warning him to “devyse some exscuse”for absenting himself from the “parleament,”and to “retyere”himself into the “contri”where he might “expect the event in safti for thoghe theare be no apparance of anni stir yet i saye they shall receyve a terribel blowe this parleament and yet they shall not seie who hurts them &c.”;[240] and that Lord Mounteagle[241] ordered a man in his service to read this letter then and there before the party assembled. Most likely, too, Sir Everard did not learn till much later that when, early in the following week, Catesby and Winter heard of the delivery of this letter of warning, they suspected Tresham of being its author; that, on Wednesday, the 30th, they summoned him, after he had been down in Northamptonshire for about a week, to come at once to White Webbs, with the full intention of poignarding him on the spot, if they could convince themselves that he had been guilty of writing and sending the warning, and that he denied it, with such firmness and so many oaths, that they hesitated to assassinate him, while still doubting his sincerity.

On Tuesday, the 29th of October, Lady Digby, her children, guests, and servants, started for Coughton, a journey of some fifty miles. In mentioning Coughton, it may be worth noticing how many of those whose names are more or less connected, even indirectly, with the story of the Gunpowder Plot were related to each other. The owner of Coughton, Thomas Throckmorton, was a cousin both of Catesby’s and of Tresham’s, although he never had anything to do with the conspiracy. He was also a cousin of the Vaux family, his grandmother having been a daughter of a Lord Vaux of Harrowden.

It being known that Father Garnet was to be at Coughton for All Hallows’ Eve, All Saints’ Day, and All Souls’ Day, many Catholics in the neighbourhood came thither in order to attend mass and go to their religious duties.

The feast of All-Hallows used then to be kept with some solemnity, and it was Father Garnet’s custom on such occasions to sing the mass,[242] where it was practicable and safe to do so, and also to preach. Lingard[243] thought that it was “plain that Garnet had acted very imprudently at Coughton, probably had suffered expressions to escape him which, though sufficiently obscure then, might now prove his acquaintance with the plot; for he writes to Anne Vaux, on March 4th, ‘there is some talk here of a discourse made by me or Hall; I fear it is that which I made at Coughton.’—Autib. 144.”He certainly recited the prayer for the conversion of England, which had been authorised for that purpose by Cardinal Allen; and, although it was used that day throughout the world, being taken from the office of the feast,[244] his doing so was afterwards used in evidence against him as an act of treason. The words

from a hymn in the Office, had certainly no reference to the Gunpowder Plot.

On Saturday, the second of November, Sir Everard was up early, superintending the arrangements for his start a day or two later, as well as the putting away of valuables at Gothurst, and the closing of the house in preparation for a long absence. Already some of his horses and men had been sent on to Dunchurch, together with his greyhounds, which were all-important for appearance sake.

Possibly my readers may have experienced the sensation caused by the unexpected and very sudden arrival of a hitherto invariably welcome friend at a moment when his presence was not exactly convenient. Now few men, if any, were so dear to Sir Everard as Father Gerard, and he used to be specially welcome when he occasionally rode to Gothurst early in a morning to say a mass in its chapel; but when Sir Everard saw “his brother,”as he usually called him, riding up to Gothurst on that particular Saturday morning, and when he was told by the Father that he had come to say his mass in his chapel on this All Souls’ Day, he wished, for the first time, that his favourite guest had not taken it into his head to come on that Saturday morning, “of all Saturday mornings.”He knew that all the chapel furniture, as well as the chalices, vestments, and other necessaries for saying mass, had been carefully hidden away, with the exception of those which had been sent on to Dunchurch with a view to having mass said during his stay there. Besides, everything was in a state of fuss and confusion in anticipation of the start; and, as his family were to remain for some time at Coughton, the house was on the point of being shut up. One reason why the presence of Father Gerard might be particularly unwelcome just then was that, about that time, Digby may have been superintending the “great provision of armour and shot, which he sent before him in a cart with some trusty servants”to Dunchurch.[246]

When told that it would be impossible to have mass at Gothurst that morning, Father Gerard, in addition to his expression of disappointment—for All Souls’ is a Feast upon which no priest likes to miss saying mass—may have shown signs of embarrassment; for the presence of a stranger prevented his asking his host the reasons. As soon as an opportunity offered itself, Father Gerard beckoned to Sir Everard to follow him into a room in which they would be alone.[247] There he told him that he could not understand the sudden alteration in the arrangements of his house, the putting away of so many things as if a long absence was contemplated, the removal of the family to Coughton, the preparations for a journey to Dunchurch with such an unusual number of men and horses, and—now that he came to think of it—the sales of land and stock, of which Sir Everard had spoken to him not long ago, as if to raise money for some special purpose. All this, as an intimate friend, Father Gerard was in a position to say to his so-called “brother”; and he ventured to go further and inquire whether he “had something in hand for the Catholic cause.”

Sir Everard’s answer was “No, there is nothing in hand that I know of, or can tell you of.”

Father Gerard then replied that he had some reason to feel anxious on the subject, as Sir Everard was much too careful a man to injure his estate by leaving it understocked, and by selling any portion of it in order to purchase horses, hire men, and spend money in other ways, unless he had some great object in view for what he believed to be the good of the Catholic cause; and, added the Father, “Look well that you follow counsel in your proceedings, or else you may hurt both yourself and the cause.”

Ah! if some such words as these had been addressed to him by Father Garnet at the time he first joined the conspiracy, how much misery he might have been saved.

Perhaps Father Gerard’s persistence in suspecting and implying that Sir Everard had “something in hand,”after he had avowed that he had “nothing” may have irritated him, for he replied, with dignity: “I respect the Catholic cause much more than my own commodity, as it should well appear whenever I undertake anything.”

Father Gerard was not to be put off in this manner, and he asked once more, “whether there were anything to be done,”and, if so, whether help was expected from any foreign power.

Sir Everard was becoming hard pressed, and raising one finger, he replied, “I will not adventure so much in hope thereof.”

Distressed and anxious, Father Gerard then said—“I pray God you follow counsel in your doings. If there be any matter in hand, doth Mr Walley know of it?”Walley was the name by which Father Garnet, the Provincial of the Jesuits, was spoken of at that time.

Digby’s answer was a curious one, unless Catesby had not told him the name of the particular Jesuit whose approval he pretended to have obtained. “In truth, I think he doth not.”

Then, said Father Gerard, “In truth, Sir Everard Digby, if there should be anything in hand, and that you retire yourself and company into Warwickshire, as into a place of most safety, I should think you did not perform the part of a friend to some of your neighbours not far off, and persons that, as you know, deserve every respect, and to whom you have professed much friendship, that they are left behind, and have not any warning to make so much provision for their own safety as were needful in such a time, but to defend themselves from rogues.”

Sir Everard, who must have sincerely wished that his friend had stayed away, replied—“I warrant you it shall not need.”

At this assurance Father Gerard felt rather more satisfied, and shortly afterwards he rode away, much to the relief of his host, who at any other time would have pressed him to remain as his guest.

Sir Everard stayed at home over the Sunday—whether he rode to some other Catholic’s house to hear Mass on that day does not appear—and on the Monday[248] he started for Dunchurch, accompanied by his page, William Ellis, Richard Day, “his receaver,” and five servants.

He can scarcely have left Gothurst in the best of spirits, as he must have reflected that, for the first time, he had prevaricated and dissembled, if not actually lied, to the man he considered his best friend, the very priest who had received him into the Church; that he had parted with him on a far from satisfactory footing, and that he had been obliged to send him away from his house without saying Mass on a day of such importance to all good Catholics as that devoted to the memory of and intercession for the dead.

Besides these, he had other good reasons for depression as he rode away from his beautiful home; he must have known that, at best, he was starting upon a very perilous enterprise; whether it succeeded or failed, many of his party might fall on the field in prosecuting it, if nothing worse happened to them; and it may be that, as he caught a last glimpse of Gothurst in the distance, the thought occurred to his mind that he would never see it again.

The journey and his plans, however, would soon distract his thoughts. The plot itself, too, would occupy his mind above all other subjects. In each of the conspirators it seems to have produced a sort of intoxication. Stow says that,[249] “being drunke with the same folly,”Sir Everard Digby “went to the appointed hunting at Don-church.”

Then there were his arms and his followers to be thought of and looked after. It is difficult in these days to realise that, some three hundred years ago, the servants, retainers, and to some extent the tenants, of large landowners were expected to fight when required by their lords. It is true that the feudal system had then almost ceased to exist; but although vassalage had been considerably limited more than a hundred years earlier by Henry VII., it was not abolished by statute until more than fifty years after the time of which I am writing.

To carry ourselves back to that period, we have to imagine our gardeners, under-gardeners, grooms, stable-helpers, gamekeepers, and perhaps footmen, strapping on broad-swords, carrying pikes, putting on such armour as could be provided, and going forth to possible battle, some on foot, and some mounted on hacks, coach-horses, cart-horses, and ponies, not a few of which would be taken up from grass for the purpose.

In this particular instance, the motley troop, with the exception of the seven men accompanying Sir Everard, had been already sent on, ostensibly to assist at the coursing and, perhaps, hawking, which was to take place at Dunchurch, while some of them were to attend to the wants of the guests. As to Sir Everard’s own journey, most of his attendants rode; but one of them, Richard Hollis, the under cook, walked, leading the “truncke-horse,” on which his master’s personal clothing was slung.[250] This trunk, wrote Sir Everard,[251] “had in it cloathes of mine, as, a white Sattin Dublet cut with purple, a Jerkin and Hoase of De-roy colour sattin, laid very thicke with Gold-lace, there were other garments in it of mine, with a new black Winter Gown of my wife’s, there was also in the trunk £300 in money.”

On reaching Dunchurch, Sir Everard took his supper alone,[252] and it is not likely that his reflections as he did so were of the calmest or the happiest.

Now that it takes considerably less than a couple of hours to travel from London to Rugby, it seems curious that no news of the difficulties of the conspirators at White Webbs should have reached those at Dunchurch; but it would have been dangerous in the extreme to have sent a letter describing them, and neither of the principals concerned wished to go far from London until they had seen what would happen.

Their anxiety on Wednesday, the 30th of October, had been increased by Tresham’s eagerness in urging Catesby to give up the plot, which he said was discovered, and to leave England, promising that he should always “live upon his purse”;[253] and by his imploring Winter to begone, on Saturday, the 2nd of November. On the Saturday or the Sunday, Winter again met Tresham in Lincoln’s Inn Walks, when the latter declared that they were all lost men, unless they saved themselves by instant flight. Through another source, Catesby and Winter learned, on the Sunday, that the letter of warning which had been received by Lord Mounteagle had been shown to the king, who considered the matter of the highest importance, but enjoined the strictest secrecy. The leading conspirators, therefore, were in a state of great consternation on the Sunday, two days before the explosion was to take place. Of all this, however, Sir Everard Digby knew nothing.

Either late on the Monday night, or early on the Tuesday morning, several of Sir Everard’s friends assembled at the Inn[254] where he was staying, at Dunchurch; among these were Throckmorton,[255] Sir Robert Digby of Coleshill, James Digby, George Digby, Stephen Littleton and Humphrey Littleton. On the Tuesday morning,[256] mass was said by Father Hart, a Jesuit, who had been a secular priest, and had been introduced to Fathers of the Society of Jesus by Father Strange,[257] Sir Everard Digby’s own chaplain. The party, after breakfast, hunted or coursed, so that, although the “hunting-match”was a mere cover for other designs, it actually took place for one day.

It seems that Sir Everard took opportunities of confiding to his friends the news that a scheme was on foot for asserting the rights of Catholics; that active measures of some sort were to be taken on their behalf immediately in London, probably on the following day, and that very possibly the sportsmen assembled at Dunchurch might receive a message, summoning them to arms about Thursday or Friday; to some he told more, and to some less, according to their dispositions and the spirit in which they received his information.

The sportsmen naturally conversed together upon the intelligence they had received, although a few of the more enlightened were to some extent tongue-tied, and the whole party gradually became in an anxious and excited state.[258] This was especially the case when they all met together at supper at the inn after hunting, and more particularly as they talked in groups over their tankards when supper was finished.

Sir Everard Digby, his relative, Sir Robert Digby, and one of the Littletons, withdrew from the rest of the party to play cards[259] together in a room by themselves.

A little distraction must have been very desirable for Sir Everard’s mind in its state of tension. As we know, he was usually an excellent card-player, but we may doubt whether he played his best on this occasion. He believed that the horrible catastrophe was either at that moment taking place, had just taken place, or was to take place immediately. Perhaps, as he sat quietly playing cards, numbers of men whom he had known personally, or at least by sight, had just been put to a horrible death, among them his king, who had knighted him. The poor princes, innocent boys, might be lying beside him, dead also, crushed and mangled. Many among the slain would be almost as innocent, so far as any desire to injure the Catholics was concerned. Of course, Digby had made up his mind that the explosion was a necessary and even a heroic undertaking; but, if bloodguiltiness there were in it, he could not help knowing that it rested on his own head. Can one help imagining that, while he played cards, he must have devoutly wished, now that it was too late, that he could prevent such a fearful slaughter, or that he had never heard of or conspired in the plot? Let us hope that the game of cards diverted such thoughts; yet who could blame him if, with such matters on his mind, he forgot to follow suit?

At any rate, while he shuffled the cards, grim realities would be apt to present themselves to his memory. When would he hear of the great event? It would only take place that afternoon or evening at soonest. Dunchurch was about eighty miles from London. Catesby would hardly despatch a messenger until he had something definite to relate as to the result of the catastrophe upon the minds of the populace, the officials, and the army; so it might be almost another twenty-four hours before Digby could receive the news; yet such an appalling massacre would be talked about, right and left, and the intelligence would be passed on from one place to another very rapidly; it was possible, therefore, that tidings—most likely meagre, exaggerated, and untrustworthy tidings—might reach Dunchurch, in some form or other, on the following morning. As the day wore on they might, perhaps, see Rookwood himself, or one of his servants entrusted with a letter, for he had placed relays of horses on the road between London and Dunchurch.[260] Or Percy or Christopher Wright might appear, as Sir Everard had sent a servant with a couple of horses to meet them at Hockliffe.[261]

But it was useless to disturb the mind as to the particular moment at which the news could arrive; possibly there was not at present any to send; therefore it would be wisest, Sir Everard might tell himself, to divert his mind with his game, to go early to bed, and get a good night’s rest, so as to be fresh and ready for whatever might happen on the following day.

Suddenly there was a sound without of many and hurried footsteps; the door opened, and in rushed Catesby, Percy, John Wright, Christopher Wright, Rookwood, and Winter, mud-bespattered, heavily armed, and with grave faces. Acton and Grant came in after them.

It was clear, at a glance, that something was wrong; and Sir Everard looked eagerly to Catesby for information. Instead of speaking, Catesby took him by the arm and led him out of the room, saying nothing until he had found an empty chamber, which they both entered alone.

Exactly what was said to Sir Everard by Catesby can never be known; but what he had to tell him, if he chose to do so, was much as follows.

On the evening, or late in the afternoon, of the previous day (Monday, November 4th), Catesby, Rookwood, John and Christopher Wright, Thomas Winter, Percy, and Keyes, who formed the band of conspirators in and about London, received notice from Fawkes that the cellar in which their gunpowder was laid had just been visited by the Lord Chamberlain—the already mentioned Earl of Suffolk, and Lord Mounteagle. Catesby and John Wright immediately fled, and started for Dunchurch. Christopher Wright, Rookwood, Keyes, Winter, and Percy waited in London to observe what would happen. They hung about during the night, and at about four or five o’clock in the morning[262] they discovered that Fawkes had been arrested. Then Christopher Wright and Percy started for Dunchurch.

Only Rookwood, Winter, and Keyes now remained. They were staying in the same lodging, and they determined to wait and see what the morning would bring forth.[263] On going out early, they found the populace in a state of great consternation and terror.[264] “The news of Fawkes’s apprehension, and exaggerated rumours of a frightful plot discovered, were spread in every direction.”Guards and soldiers protected all the streets and roads leading to the palace, and no one, excepting officials, was permitted to pass them. The whole town was in a state of excitement. Keyes sprang on his horse and galloped after the other fugitives; but Rookwood, who had taken care to place relays of horses along the road to Dunchurch, remained longer, in order to carry the latest news to his fellow-conspirators in Warwickshire. At ten[265] o’clock it became evident that it would be dangerous to delay an instant longer, so he also mounted his horse and galloped away.

The last of all to fly was Thomas Winter.[266] Of his movements Catesby could have told Sir Everard nothing; but he left London very soon after Rookwood, and eventually joined his fellow-conspirators at Huddington.

When Rookwood had gone about three miles beyond Highgate, he overtook Keyes, and rode with him into Bedfordshire, where Keyes took a different road, as is conjectured by Jardine,[267] for “Lord Mordaunt’s house at Turvey, where his wife resided.”Somewhere in the neighbourhood of Brick-hill, a place not far from Fenny Stratford, Rookwood overtook Percy, the two Wrights, and Catesby, after which these five rode together to Ashby St Leger, Lady Catesby’s place in Northamptonshire, which was very near to Dunchurch. Roughly speaking, the course of the fugitives had been not very wide of the route of the London and North-Western railway from Euston to Rugby, and while all did it quickly, Rookwood’s pace was exceptionally fast, as he rode about eighty miles between eleven in the morning and six in the evening, averaging more than eleven miles an hour, including stoppages to change horses. He himself stated that he[268] “rode thirty miles of one horse in two hours,”and that “Percy and John Wright cast off their cloaks and threw them into the hedge to ride the more speedily.”

The five fugitives entered Lady Catesby’s house just as she and her party, which included Robert Winter and Acton, were sitting down to supper. The news of the arrest of Fawkes and the failure of the main design having been announced by the new arrivals, who, as Jardine says, were[269] “fatigued and covered with dirt,”—Father Gerard, again, in describing their ride, writes of[270] “the foulness of the winter ways”—no time was lost over the hurried meal, during which a short conference took place, ending in a decision that the whole party should ride off immediately to Dunchurch, taking with them all the arms that were in the house.

FOOTNOTES: