Chapter XVII: A Catalogue Of The Laws Against Catholics Made By Queen (5)

“ ‘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.