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Murder & Crime

London

The History Press

THE WEAPON OF THE WEAK PRETENDING TO BE STRONG

History, like fashion, is cyclical. Middle England would currently have it that Parliament is riddled with Scotsmen. The Government is highly unpopular. The question of religion is also a hot topic, particularly imported religion. Politics, it seems, never changes.

This was also the case when Elizabeth I died in 1603. There was a debate as to who would succeed. Elizabeth favoured King James VI of Scotland, and accordingly James succeeded Elizabeth I as the closest living relative of the unmarried, childless English monarch, through his descent from one of Henry VIII's sisters. There was no denying that whilst Elizabeth gave England a new sense of identity, a self-confidence and a feeling of sovereignty, people were not altogether sad that she had died. The Tudors had emptied the country's coffers, and whilst it was a newly Protestant country with a strong sense of identity, the Queen had refrained, in her later years, from totally scinding from Catholics, as she had courtiers who were both Catholic and loyal to her. There were, however, very strong penalties for Catholics who openly flouted the laws that banned Mass. James VI of Scotland and I of England was initially seen as a breath of fresh air ...

Unfortunately, James I, possibly the most intellectual, and certainly the most open-minded British monarch, had other ideas that were anathema to English hearts, specifically Catholic English hearts. He transported his Scottish Court to London, bestowing honours and power to his Scottish favourites.

The Scots were openly derided and almost universally hated by Parliament and the people. They were 'an effusion of people from Northern parts'. The Scots were also considered uncouth, filthy, lousy and jeered at because of their accent. There was also talk in Parliament of 'plants which are transported from barren ground into a more fertile one and how they grow and overgrow'. King James, furthermore, committed the cardinal sin of suggesting that the entire island should be known as 'Britain' – this met with the most disgusted response.

Catholics who thought there might be some change for the better were swiftly disillusioned with the escalation of fines on the Catholic recusants. Fines, totaling an average of £3,500 per year, rose to epic proportions by 1604 – so draconian were these that many saw their estates sequestered and were reduced to penury. Some of these estates were then given, by Royal largesse, to the 'parvenu' Scots! It was as a result of such laws, the new monarch and his Scottish favourites that the 'Gunpowder Plot' was supposedly hatched.

Robert Catesby, son of a distinguished Catholic line, was related to other distinguished Catholic families, the Treshams, Throckmortons, Vaux, and Wintours – Midland gentry. His cousin had also married Lord Monteagle, a powerful personage at Court. Catesby was a bright, attractive man, with exceptional ability to command and much admired by many of his contemporaries. Unfortunately this gentle, emotional man's Protestant wife died early, leaving him directionless. He reverted to extreme Catholicism and was heavily involved with the Earl of Essex's abortive coup in 1601. His recklessness lost him a fortune. By being labeled a rebel he had to forfeit his estate. This led him down the path of Catholic theology and towards the idea of a new Catholic State. The overriding problem in the eyes of most English Catholics was that whilst Elizabeth I was considered illegitimate, James I had rightfully acceded to the throne. Any action against the 'rightful king' would contradict the loyalties of the rest of the English Catholics.

On 20 May 1604, a group of people assembled at the Duck and Drake Inn in the Strand. Robert Catesby summoned Tom Wintour (Winter), Jack (John) Wright, Thomas Percy and Guido Fawkes. His scheme was simple – to blow up Parliament House when the King and his Parliament would be in residence. He believed he had tried all other means to make the Catholics be heard, but now the King must be called to account as he had a contractual obligation towards his people. Princess Elizabeth, furthermore, would be abducted and placed as a titular queen. He and other Catholics had tried to enlist the help of Catholic Spain, but despite the fancy Spanish rhetoric, Spain had promised but not donated funds, nor had Spain promised any military support. Spain, in the wake of a very expensive war and a failed campaign in Ireland, was ultra cautious. They had, however, managed to inveigle Guido (Guy) Fawkes, a Catholic Yorkshireman, a captain in Sir William Stanley's mercenary troops presently in the pay of Spain, and an expert in gunpowder.

Unlike the others, Guy Fawkes was not related to any of them, but had been to school with Jack Wright and had met Thomas Wintour in 1603 in Spain. Both men had been sent there secretly by an Englishman living on the Continent. This Englishman remains unknown to this day and is only referred to as the 'Caballero Ingles' by Spanish sources. Both had actively tried to galvanise the Court of King Philip to supply arms, soldiers and money to assist the Catholics in England, but nothing had come of it. Fawkes, fluent in both French and Spanish, was far more of a nationalist than simply pro-Catholic. He told the Spanish that:

... there is a natural hostility between the English and the Scots. There has always been one, and at present it keeps increasing through these grievances, so that even were there but one religion in England it would not be possible to reconcile these two nations, as they are, for very long.

The plotters had a lucky break in 1604. Thomas Percy was appointed a Gentleman Pensioner in June. This meant that he needed to have quarters near Parliament. He chose a small apartment in the precincts of Westminster, John Whynniard's house. Fawkes was placed as caretaker under the assumed name of John Johnson, servitor to Mr Percy.

That summer was a tense time for Catholics. Anti-Catholic legislation was pushed through Parliament and priests were put to death. The autumn brought no solace as recusant fines were back in full force and James I asked Lord Ellesmere to 'exterminate priests and other corrupt people'. Parliament's adjournment enabled the plotters to regroup in the country, returning in October with a new member, Robert Keyes. Robert Keyes would be the one to arrange for gunpowder to be stored at Catesby's house on the Lambeth shores.

Gunpowder was now relatively easy to obtain as the previous monarch's wars had made the Council encourage home production of gunpowder and the new Anglo-Spanish peace meant that there was a glut of it. There were several gunpowder factories around London and a little subterfuge could always supply the requisite amount. Catesby's manservant, Robert Bates, was to join them in December 1604. They were now seven-strong and preparing for action when Parliament returned in February 1605.

The official New Year, 25 March 1605, heralded three new plotters; Robert Wintour, John Grant and Kit Wright, bringing the total to ten. It was also the date when a lease was secured on a cellar directly under the House of Lords, close to Whynniard's house. A total of thirty-six barrels of gunpowder were eventually ferried to the cellar in the ensuing months. Secrecy was paramount, as was military and financial aid. Fawkes was sent back to the Continent, to return by August, and was detected by the Earl of Salisbury's spy network. The network also picked up Catesby's name.

A secret shared is a secret no more, and the larger the group, the greater the risk. Certainly wives would have had a notion of what was going on. Priests accustomed to taking confessions would also hear the unthinkable. A chance indiscretion by a close female relative alerted the possibility of some plot to the Government and the further indiscretions of two priests, Fathers Garnett and Greenaway, applied more pressure. Fears over the plague resulted in a setback for the plotters as Parliament prorogued its return until October 1605.

By October 1605 Catesby had recruited three more to the ranks; Ambrose Rookwood, Francis Tresham and Sir Everard Digby. Digby and Rookwood were by far the youngest plotters. It was also in October that the final preparations were made; Fawkes was to light a long enough fuse to allow him to flee before the explosion, there would be an uprising in the Midlands and Princess Elizabeth would be secured.

On 26 October Lord Monteagle received an anonymous letter asking him not to attend Parliament as it was to suffer a horrible blow. Monteagle decided to show the letter to Salisbury, who sat on it and waited.

The 'Monteagle letter' has been a source of contention ever since. Was it a letter from someone close to the plotters but who didn't know the exact plot? Was it from one of the plotters, some of whom were related to Monteagle? Why did Salisbury sit on it – to ensnare the plotters further or to wait for the King's decision? Or was it a concoction by the Government, who knew what the plotters were up to and wanted to ensure good termination to this episode? There is no doubt that Salisbury had more than an inkling of what was going on and a quick end would mean an end to any Catholic unrest in England. This last theory does hold more water than the others.

On Monday, 4 November 1605, a first search of the cellars surrounding Westminster was made by Lords Suffolk and Monteagle. Apart from a surprisingly large amount of firewood in Whynniard's cellar, Whynniard informed them that the current tenant was Thomas Percy. A second search was made in the small hours of 5 November, when a tall man answering to the name of John Johnson was apprehended and kegs of gunpowder discovered. The Government had one name, Thomas Percy.

John Johnson turned out to be Guy Fawkes. He steadfastly maintained that the plot was to blow the Scots back to Scotland. His torture was to elicit more names. Meanwhile, Londoners lit their very first bonfires in celebration of the averted disaster.

By the evening of 6 November, the Government had all the names save Bates, Robert Wintour and Digby, but not through the intransigent, brave and mysterious Fawkes. He did crack – two days later. The rest fled to Holbeche House on the Staffordshire border where Catesby, the two Wrights and Thomas Percy were all fatally wounded by the Sheriff of Worcester's men on 8 November. Robert and Thomas Wintour managed to escape, but were eventually found. Francis Tresham died in the Tower of London.

On January 27 1606, Digby, Robert Wintour, John Grant, Thomas Bates, Thomas Wintour, Ambrose Rookwood, Robert Keyes and Guy Fawkes were summarily tried. None denied treason and all were condemned to be executed.

On Thursday 30 January, Digby, Robert Wintour, John Grant and Thomas Bates were hanged in St Paul's churchyard, then drawn and quartered. Thomas Wintour, Ambrose Rookwood, Robert Keyes and Guy Fawkes met the same fate the next day in the Old Palace Yard at Westminster.

The unpopular government took full advantage of this 'evil' plot. It even concocted a story that the conspirators had dug a mine (which was never discovered) from December 1604 and October 1605 between the rented apartments and Parliament – a beautifully crafted piece of political sleight-of-hand that would encapsulate the evilness of The Wrongdoers and spice up the 'account' of the averted danger.

The question remains, why was Francis Tresham, cousin of Monteagle, alone sent to the Tower, unlike the others? He died of natural causes – or was it poison, administered by himself or by someone else who didn't want him to talk? There is some evidence that he may have been the one who named names ...

A MAN OF PROBITY

The late seventeenth century was riddled with political fears. England had just come out of a period of enforced austerity under the Cromwells and had been catapulted back to the Franco-Scottish Court of the Stuart dynasty with its plethora of French and Scottish adventurers and its European intrigues. The English had a natural abhorrence of the foreigner, let alone of the French. Their real fear, however, was of the Catholic faith that seemed to permeate the Court circles and the upper echelons of English society, threatening the very fabric of that society. The following murder encapsulates all these fears and remains unsolved to this day.

In the early evening of 17 October 1678, two regulars of the White House Inn at Lower Chalcott (present day Chalk Farm), accompanied by the landlord, the constable of the parish of Marylebone and a group of others, walked to a drainage ditch on the south side slope of Primrose Hill. There, among the brambles, lay the body of a man of substance, face down, a sword run through the body and his coat thrown over his head. His belongings were strewn about the ground.

The body, sword withdrawn, was carried back to the inn and the authorities informed. It was only then that the body was identified as Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey, knight, late magistrate of the King and a successful City merchant.

On Friday 18 October the Coroner of Middlesex, John Cooper, empanelled a jury at the White House Inn. Sir Edmund's brother, Michael, and two surgeons, Zachariah Skillard and Cambridge, were in attendance. The surgeons' evidence created questions rather than answered them:

His sword was thrust through him, but no blood was on his clothes or about him; his shoes were clean; his money was in his pocket, but nothing was about his neck (although when he went from home, he had a large lace band on), and a mark was all around it, an inch broad, which showed he had been strangled. His breast was likewise all over marked with bruises, and his neck was broken; and it was visible he was first strangled, then carried to that place, where his sword was run through his dead body.

The ditch was dry – no blood marks in it – his shoes were clean and everything but his pocket book was found. The pocket book was one he used as a magistrate. Spots of white wax, an item he never used, but used by noblemen and priests, were scattered over his clothes.

The conclusion was that he had been killed by Roman Catholics. His murder would prove a very useful tool for the bigot, the scaremonger and the state!

Edmund Berry Godfrey (1621-1678) was one of eighteen children of a prominent Kent family. His career in London followed the usual pattern of the younger sons – trade or a profession. He followed law, but then chose to go into business as a wood and coal merchant, with premises in Green Lane (beneath Charing Cross Station) then in Hartshorn Lane (Northumberland Avenue) and various properties including the Swan Tavern in King Street, Hammersmith. He was made a Justice of the Peace for the Court quarter of London. His conduct during the Great Plague in 1664-5 (in one instance, on the refusal of his men to enter a pest-house to apprehend a man who had stolen winding sheets from the dead to re-sell, he went in himself and arrested him) earned him a knighthood. He was a respected magistrate who had had plans for the beggars of London – he was to set them to work!

Godfrey, although an Anglican, was known for his moderate views, and was friends to Anglicans and Catholics alike. He mixed in the Court circles and was known to the Lord Treasurer Lord Danby. He had last been seen alive some time after 2 p.m. on 12 October, in the fields near the White House on Primrose Hill – a walk he was known to take on a regular basis. Another sighting had placed Godfrey in the Strand and Lincoln's Inn. What was definitely known was that Godfrey was frightened for himself after the swearing of secret documents shown to him by a certain Dr Titus Oates, and he had left his home early on 12 October.

The Roman Catholic problem was a very real one; that is, in the minds of the people. The fear of Roman Catholicism was founded on the sixteenth-century Elizabeth's accession and the defeat of the Armada, with the added bonus of the 1605 Gunpowder Plot. Roman Catholics were deemed to be capable of any action to reinstall Roman Catholicism in England, not helped by a very tolerant atmosphere at Court. Added to which there was a high proportion of Catholics in London, freedom of worship and the fact that James Duke of York, a Catholic convert, openly expressed his religious beliefs.

'Doctor' Titus Oates was a very strange man indeed. He was the son of a Protestant preacher who openly detested him. He was physically repellent: he had convulsions, a runny nose and slavered at the mouth. He had a limp, a red face, a bull neck and an enormous chin. His harsh, loud voice was perfect for preaching, and this he did in his craving for acceptance, with a very liberal dose of fantasy added. His life had been one of a fight against the natural repulsion people felt on seeing him and the very real need for his few talents to be recognised. One talent was convincing people, in this particular case convincing them of the power of Roman Catholicism, a fear which his spurious doctorate in divinity coupled with the assistance of Dr Israel Tonge, ensured he would have his fifteen minutes of fame!

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Excerpted from Murder & Crime by Peter De Loriol. Copyright © 2013 Peter de Loriol. Excerpted by permission of The History Press.
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