Chapter XVII: A Catalogue Of The Laws Against Catholics Made By Queen (6)

“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.”