Читать книгу The Condition of Catholics Under James I - Gerard John - Страница 19

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“On the following day105 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 [pg cxxii] it would not be right that he should suffer death for it. The third letter was to the Lords of the Council, in which I stated first the causes which moved me to the recovery of my liberty, of which I had been unjustly deprived. It was not so much the mere love of freedom, I said, as the love of souls which were daily perishing in England that led me to attempt the escape, in order that I might assist in bringing them back from sin and heresy. As for matters of State, as they had hitherto found me averse to meddling with them, so they might be sure that I should continue the same. Besides this, I exonerated the Lieutenant and gaoler from all consent to, or connivance at, my escape, assuring them that I had recovered my liberty entirely by my own and my friends' exertions. I prepared another letter also, which would be taken next morning to my gaoler, not, however, by John Lilly, but by another, as I shall narrate presently.

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

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“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 [pg cxxiv] 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 [pg cxxv] 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 [20l.] 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 [pg cxxvi] 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 [pg cxxvii] 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 [pg cxxviii] 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 [30l.] 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 [pg cxxix] 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 [pg cxxx] 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 Marshal109 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.”

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