Gunpowder Siege
Mondays at 9pm
This guest article was written by Helen Carr, an award-nominated writer and historian specialising in British medieval history and public history. She is an elected fellow of the Royal Historical Society and is currently with Queen Mary University London.
The 5th of November 1605 is etched into cultural memory as the day the Houses of Parliament were saved from destruction. In the early hours of the morning, Guy Fawkes — who called himself Guido — was discovered with his pockets filled with matches and harbouring 36 barrels of gunpowder, concealed beneath stacks of faggots and firewood. Fawkes was arrested and imprisoned in the impenetrable fortress and jail, the Tower of London, where he underwent unimaginable torture under the orders of the royal spymaster Robert Cecil.
Fawkes’s story is well known, but where he was the unfortunate scapegoat, told to light the match only for his knowledge of how to use gunpowder, he was not the mastermind; that fell to Robert Catesby. From a well-known recusant Catholic family, Catesby was a religious zealot known for ardent defence of his faith and his wildly charismatic personality. The plan to blow up King James I with his queen and two sons was Catesby’s idea. If successful, it would be the most extreme and impactful act of terrorism in English history.
From inception the plot was a long time in the making, meticulously planned to take place at the State Opening of Parliament in spring; parliament being in the plotters' minds, ‘where the mischief’ was made. But Catesby encountered his first problem when a wave of plague in the city meant that parliament was prorogued to 5th November. Where this bought Catesby and his comrades, (his cousin, Thomas Wintour, Christopher and John Wright, Thomas Percy and Guido Fawkes amongst others), more time, it also allowed space for more to go wrong. By autumn 1605 more plotters had joined the cause and Thomas Percy had volunteered to use his position in the service of the earl of Northumberland to lease an undercroft directly beneath the Houses of Parliament.
The plan was discovered thanks to an anonymous letter to William Parker, 4th Baron Mounteagle, a member of parliament who was known to have had Catholic sympathies. The author warned Mounteagle to stay away, that ‘they shall receive a terrible blow this parliament and yet they shall not see who hurts them’. When this was revealed to the shrewd and highly skilled Robert Cecil, it was only a matter of time before the plot was foiled.
Thomas Percy had done well, initially when the premises were searched nothing could be found — storing wood in the undercroft was normal practice — but the ever-paranoid James I ordered that his men go back and look harder. It was then they came face to face with Guy Fawkes with a fuse, lantern and matches. Panicked, Fawkes claimed his name was John Johnson, but this defence was fruitless and Fawkes was arrested. Putting up a resolute defence in his silence, Fawkes was eventually tortured on the rack to reveal the names of his fellow conspirators. The rack was a notoriously agonising device used to extract every ounce of information. Aware of this, Catesby and the others knew they were on borrowed time.
Splitting up and desperately riding through the Midlands trying to recruit more men to their cause, Catesby and the Wright brothers with John Grant, Ambrose Rookwood, and Thomas Percy reunited at Holbeche House in Staffordshire where, exhausted, they took the opportunity to rest and regroup. Having ridden through all weather from London to the Midlands, the gunpowder the plotters carried had become soaked and useless. Their precious source of protection, they carefully and meticulously spread the powder out before the fire, allowing the warmth of the hearth to slowly dry it from rainwater. The idea was not entirely reckless, gunpowder is at its most impactful when tightly contained, however when a spark did fly onto the drying mass of power there was an eruption enough to injure the surrounding men and even blinding John Grant, a latecomer to the plot who joined from the Midlands.
Alone in their plight and desperately low on powder, the men prepared for a last stand, probably convinced by the committed Robert Catesby they had a chance of victory, but in reality, the gunpowder plot was over. On the morning of 8th November, Holbeche House was stormed by men and gunfire, led by the Sheriff of Worcestershire. Catesby and Percy stoutly defended themselves but were hit by the same bullet, mortally wounded. All other plotters were either killed there and then or arrested to face trial in London and a sordid fate on the gallows.
The gunpowder plot is a portent event in British history. To this day the undercrofts of the Houses of Parliament are searched before each State Opening of Parliament. The name Guy Fawkes is a household one and every year 5th November is celebrated with joy and light. Yet the history behind the plot is couched in a wider narrative of religious warfare and intolerance with dogmatic views from either side around how people should or should not practice their faith. In its time the gunpowder plot was charged with staunch religious belief and personal sacrifice, the plotters genuinely believing that in their destruction they could create a better world. Realistically, had the plot been a success, the hatred between Catholics and Protestants would have endured, or even become worse.