by Nick Holland
If Thomas Wintour managed to keep a disinterested face during this conversation it was in stark contrast to his inner turmoil. Here was evidence against the plot, and it was now in the hands of Robert Cecil and the Privy Council: evidence that could bring destruction upon his head and the heads of all those he loved.
Taking his leave of Ward in as calm a manner as possible, Wintour thought the matter through overnight, a restless, sleepless night, before travelling to White Webbs to see Robert Catesby in the morning. Having thought long and hard, Wintour had come to the conclusion that the danger was too great, they must abandon the plot and flee the country while they still could.15 Catesby, however, was not so easily deterred, and decided to first send a man to the cellar to check whether the gunpowder store had been discovered. This task would bring immediate danger to the person undertaking it, so there was only one man for the job: ‘He [Catesby] told me [Thomas Wintour] that he would see further as yet and resolved to send Mr Fawkes to try the uttermost... On Wednesday Mr Fawkes went and returned at night, of which we were very glad’.16
Catesby hadn’t informed Guy of the letter, and the extra danger he was placing himself in, until he returned from his reconnaissance, but Guy answered that even if he had been told of this danger beforehand, he would not have failed to do what had to be done.17
Even without knowledge of the letter, Guy realised the danger that such a visit after an absence could entail. He would have approached the cellar cautiously, stealthily, checking the door first of all and listening for signs from within. Entering the door was the moment of greatest risk, for armed guards sent by Cecil could have been waiting for just such a moment. The handle was turned carefully, with one hand resting upon the hilt of his sword, but once inside, much to Guy’s relief, it was apparent he was alone. After a silent yet meticulous search, he also ascertained that none of the secret signs he had set up, the carefully positioned objects, had been disturbed: the cellar remained undiscovered.
Guy’s news was greeted joyously by Thomas Wintour and Catesby, and prayers of thanks were offered by the three men bound so closely in death and danger. The question now turned to who was responsible for the letter that could have put an end to everything, and the immediate suspect was one who had recently and seemingly reluctantly joined their endeavours, one who had a reputation for being untrustworthy: their thirteenth man Francis Tresham.
Catesby and Wintour sent a message to Tresham, asking him to meet them at Barnet. It was now Friday, 1 November, just four days before they were due to put their plan into action.18 After opening the conversation with their usual conviviality, Catesby suggested that they take a walk through the nearby Royal Forest of Epping Chase.19 With each step forward, Tresham could feel the atmosphere growing poisonous. The conversation had stopped and he walked with one man in front of him and one man behind, until they reached a clearing and halted. It was now that the serious questioning started. Catesby relayed the story to him calmly but with an unmistakeable menace in his words. The question was simple: had Tresham sent the letter to Baron Monteagle, and in so doing broken his solemn oath and betrayed them all?
Tresham’s life was in the balance, as he well knew, but he vehemently proclaimed his innocence, calling upon the men to remember his service during the Essex rebellion, and talking to Catesby of the bond they had shared since childhood. He fell to his knees and prayed to God, asking to be struck down if he was lying. This was the moment that would decide Francis Tresham’s fate. Catesby looked Wintour in the eye, they were in silent agreement: reaching down they took Tresham’s hand and raised him to his feet; they believed him. If they had harboured any doubt, they had resolved to hang him in the forest there and then.20
Tresham was absolved of suspicion by the leaders of the gunpowder plot, so who was the secret hand behind the Monteagle letter? It remains one of history’s enigmas, and if it wasn’t for the fact that it can be seen in the National Archives to this day, many would doubt its existence entirely. Throughout the centuries many theories have grown up around the story of the letter, some of them plausible, some of them ridiculous, but all of them interesting.
If the writer wasn’t Francis Tresham, then could it be another plotter with links to the baron? Thomas Wintour perhaps, who had been a loyal servant to Monteagle? Thomas Ward’s visit to Wintour could indicate either that he thought somebody else was trying to betray Wintour, or that Wintour had sent the letter himself, via a go-between, and Ward was warning him about Monteagle’s actions after receiving it. On the whole, however, I find Thomas Wintour an unlikely culprit. His actions throughout the plot show a man fully committed to it, and when he later had a chance to flee he instead chose to join Catesby and his comrades.
Guy Fawkes can certainly be taken out of the line-up of suspects. He and Monteagle did not know each other, as shown by the reaction, or lack of it, when Monteagle later spotted Guy in the chamber beneath Parliament.
Could it have been Robert Catesby? It sounds incredible at first, but there is circumstantial evidence. We know, for instance, that Catesby gave a warning of sorts to Lord Montague when they met in the street, and Catesby was a great friend of Baron Monteagle, as shown in his glowing praise of Catesby as the only sun that ripens the harvest and akin to the very air he breathes.21 There was also, yet again, a familial connection, as Lord Monteagle’s wife was not only the sister of Francis Tresham but also, of course, the cousin of Robert Catesby.
Father Francis Edwards, the great gunpowder plot scholar of the twentieth century, is convinced that Catesby’s plot was not genuine at all, and that he was in fact an agent provocateur working for Robert Cecil.22 We know that one servant testified that Catesby had secret meetings with Robert Cecil. George Bartlet, on his deathbed, stated that his erstwhile master Robert Catesby had visited Cecil on three occasions in the weeks leading up to 5 November, and was always admitted via a back door.23 Was this the last utterance of truth by one about to die, or the unreliable ramblings of a diseased body and mind?
While Father Edwards’ views must always be considered carefully, he does tend to see spies and agent provocateurs everywhere – also attributing this role to Thomas Wintour, Thomas Percy, Francis Tresham, Guy Fawkes, and Lord Monteagle, so that there seem to be more false agents in the plot than actual plotters. If Catesby was an agent provocateur then he was a very bad one: committing himself to a certain death, rather than simply stirring the plot and then retreating to safety. We must also consider that although Catesby escaped the gallows by being killed in a shoot-out, as we shall see, his body was disinterred and disfigured – which seems hardly likely if he had been working for the government all along. Catesby was inside what he appeared to be on the surface, a fanatical Catholic who would kill for the cause. His fanaticism could lead him to be reckless at times, but he was not an agent provocateur, and nor was he the man who sent the Monteagle letter.
Perhaps the sender of the letter was a woman? Did the married plotters keep this secret from their wives, as their oath compelled them to, or were secrets hinted at in the marital chamber? Anne Vaux had at least some knowledge of what was happening, and had spoken to Father Garnet of her concerns,24 so could other women connected to the plot and plotters have had knowledge too? Lady Antonia Fraser conjectured that the letter writer could have been Mary Habington, Lord Monteagle’s sister, and that by sending the letter she hoped to see the gunpowder plot halted.25
Is it likely that Mary would have known more of the plot than her brother? Would she have known more than Anne Vaux, who although sheltering members of the plot including Catesby and Guy Fawkes in the weeks before November was still ignorant of the exact nature of their plans? Above all, it seems unlikely that Mary Habington wrote a letter that would have endangered her brother if he had not heeded its warning, and which would make him look complicit if he acted upon the warning without informing others.
A more likely suspect in the family is William Parker, the 4th Baron Monteagle himself. His fervent Catho
licism had cost him money, property, and reputation, as well as brought him time in prison. There are hints that he may have turned his back on his old faith in an effort to show his loyalty to the new king, and he wrote to James in 1604 to say that he wished to become a Protestant.26 If Monteagle had heard hints of the plot, and especially who was involved in it, he may reasonably have expected that his name would be linked to it by Robert Cecil, with potentially disastrous consequences.
By fabricating the letter he could present it to Cecil and thus show his loyalty and exonerate himself. That is the case for Monteagle being the writer of a false letter, but if he had done so then why did he wait until night-time to ride across London to Cecil to deliver it? And why would he hire someone to deliver the letter to him at Hoxton? We know from Ward’s testimony that the letter was delivered to Thomas Wintour,27 but this would have been a completely redundant act if Monteagle had written the letter himself, and it would bring with it the possibility that the letter would not be delivered at all.
Monteagle was less overtly Catholic by 1605, but this was a political move to protect his family and his property rather than any change in convictions. Even at this time, Monteagle was still helping the Catholic cause and individual Catholics, as we can see from the financial assistance he was providing to Martha Percy.28
In recent times it has increasingly been suspected that the letter was a fabrication of another kind; that it was created by none other than Sir Robert Cecil. This theory surmises that Cecil knew of a plot, which is certainly possible given his large coterie of spies and double agents, and that he determined that such a letter would flush the plotters out of hiding.
While Cecil was cunning and unscrupulous enough to try anything to bring plotters to justice, protect the King, and enhance his own reputation, there is a large problem with this theory. It is eminently possible that the letter may have induced desperation in whoever the plotters were, causing them not to reveal themselves, but to carry out their plans there and then. Alternatively, it is more likely to have driven them further underground rather than bringing them into the open where Cecil wanted them. If Cecil had known about the plot for a long time, being fed information by an insider, whether Catesby, Percy or someone else, then is it really likely that he would leave a cache of gunpowder under Parliament, and wait until almost the last moment to foil it? This seems ridiculous behaviour for a man as stringent and meticulous as the Secretary of State.
One piece of evidence that some have used against Cecil is that on 9 November 1605 he wrote to Sir Charles Cornwallis, England’s ambassador to Spain, that the letter was ‘in a hand disguised’.29 How could Cecil have known that unless he himself had written it? This is simply a matter of semantics. Cecil had seen enough letters and ciphers to know when handwriting looked disguised or natural, and his words simply mean that he didn’t recognise the writing. Father Francis Edwards, who was convinced that Cecil was the culprit, had a handwriting expert examine the Monteagle letter and one written by Robert Cecil, but the conclusion is far from satisfying.30 To this untrained eye there is little or no similarity between the handwritings, and while the expert gets around this by saying it is because the hand is disguised, the same conclusion could therefore be applied to anybody.
Who then was the writer of the Monteagle letter? The simple explanations are often the best, and the truth was staring everyone in the face in 1605 just as much as it is today. The letter writer was indeed Francis Tresham, trying to save his beloved brother-in-law, and hoping to prevent the plot, with its undoubted loss of life, from taking place.
To Catesby and Wintour, Tresham was the obvious perpetrator from the very first, but his pleading convinced them otherwise. Many a person can put on a convincing act when their life depends upon it, and Tresham’s prayers and protestations were all a lie. It may be questioned why he would send a letter instead of talking to Monteagle in person, but he may have suspected there would be spies in the house, Thomas Ward perhaps, who would report his actions to Catesby or Thomas Wintour. A letter would also be much more useful as a deterrent to the plot going ahead, which was Francis Tresham’s ultimate aim.
Some have asked why, if Tresham wrote to Baron Monteagle, he didn’t also write to his other brother-in-law Lord Stourton? The answer is that Tresham may well have written to Stourton as well, but that Stourton then ignored the letter or destroyed it. It is noteworthy that Lord Stourton was absent from the opening of Parliament.
With Tresham believed by Catesby and Wintour, the traitor in their brotherhood had escaped (and we shall see later the unusual way in which Francis Tresham evaded justice of another kind too). They now had a momentous decision to make, and the leaders of the plot were called together. The days were passing with wicked speed, and it was a matter of hours until the opening of Parliament. King James was back at court now, and would have been informed of the letter. Did the men continue as planned, or abandon the plot while they could, and in so doing spare their own lives? Guy was as adamant on this point as Catesby was: there could be no backing down – they would risk their lives, risk everything. They would proceed.
Chapter 20
A Very Tall and Desperate Fellow
Good, happy, swift; there’s gunpowder i’th’ court,
Wildfire at midnight in this heedless fury.
Thomas Middleton, The Revenger’s Tragedy
King James returned to the Palace of Whitehall from his Hertfordshire hunting lodge on Thursday, 31 October 1605, in time to preside over the opening of the new Parliament on the following week.1 Robert Cecil, having had experience of the King’s condition upon returning from such trips, judged it best to leave James until the morning, when he was sure to find him in a more sober frame of mind. So it was that on Friday morning, the first day of November, the mysterious letter to Lord Monteagle was placed into the King’s hands.
Cecil at first played down the significance of the letter, maybe even handing it over after some trifling documents that needed royal approval. Before James had a chance to read it, Cecil informed him that it was nothing to worry about, that it was surely the work of a lunatic or idiot.2 This was characteristically duplicitous of the Secretary of State, for with the other intelligence that Cecil had been receiving, and other information which he had surely gathered since receiving the letter himself, he knew it was a missive that deserved to be taken seriously.
Cecil, in downplaying the importance of the letter, was not only creating a reason for not having interrupted the King’s hunting trip, but also giving the King a chance to gain the glory by seeming to solve the letter’s riddle himself. That was exactly what happened. Although the official record contained within the King’s Book states that James remained perfectly calm throughout, it seems more likely that he would have exploded with anger. His ministers had missed what was obvious to his eyes – the letter was evidence of an explosion that was to shatter the opening of Parliament in less than one week’s time. The use of the words ‘they shall receive a terrible blow this Parliament’ was proof of this, and the King also seized upon the injunction to ‘burn this letter’ as evidence that the writer intended the Parliament building to burn.3
Keeping a smile from his face, a bowing Cecil complimented the King on his genius at breaking the code, his majesty had grasped the true meaning of the letter which had eluded their less noble and less able minds. While this was nothing more than an act from Cecil, the terror was all too real for the King – a plot was being hatched against him that mirrored the one which had killed his own father at Kirk o’ Field thirty-eight years previously. There was no threat more sure to grab James’s attention, and more sure to be taken seriously, than one involving gunpowder.
The King’s instructions were that the Parliament building must be searched thoroughly, including the adjoining buildings that made up the sprawling Parliamentary complex of the day. This task was given to the Lord Chamberlain, the Earl of Suffolk, to organise, and the date he set for the search was the eve of t
he opening, 4 November. Also asked to join the search was Lord Monteagle, who was now praised for his presence of mind when bringing the letter directly to Cecil.
If Monteagle was informed of this honour in advance of the search he kept the secret zealously to himself: his staff were predominantly Catholic, and there were spies on both sides of the religious divide. Nevertheless, he must have mentioned that King James had now seen the letter and had taken it seriously, for this message was relayed, once again, by Thomas Ward to his former colleague Thomas Wintour.4
This caused even greater perturbation among some of the plotters than the original news of the letter. Catesby had reassured them of his belief that the letter was too vague to be taken seriously, and that it would have no impact upon their plans, but here was proof to the contrary. While Catesby and Guy Fawkes remained steadfast, others were filled with growing fears, doubts and even a growing sense of impending disaster.
While Guy’s fearlessness showed itself in untroubled sleep, even when in the greatest danger,5 others inside the plot found it impossible to sleep without the torment of nightmares. Father Tesimond reports how he heard that Thomas Wintour had dreamed the barrels of gunpowder exploded in a succession of less than impressive explosions, doing nothing other than causing an eruption of laughter from the Lords in Parliament. Another, unnamed, plotter dreamed that the minutiae of the plot had been discovered and they would all be captured.6
Francis Tresham in particular was showing signs of distress as the opening of Parliament grew nearer. Tresham was staying in rooms at Lincoln’s Inn and was visited there by Thomas Wintour.7 Wintour may not have been a welcome visitor after their recent journey together with Catesby into the Royal Forest, but whether it was the memory of this, or a guilty conscience, Tresham was found to be nervous and distracted. He told Wintour that without a doubt their plot had been discovered, and that they needed to abandon it immediately and fly from the scene while they could. So violent was Tresham in this assertion that Wintour adjudged him to be ‘a man who had lost control of himself’.8
