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<\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/picture><\/div>It\u2019s not much to look at \u2013 a scrap of paper with a few quick lines, unsigned. It\u2019s nothing grand or formal, there\u2019s no seal or signature flourish; just 160 words or so, handwritten, on a yellowed page, a little smaller than A4. But though it\u2019s barely known today, document SP 14 \/ 216 (2) has, arguably, more mystery and more immediacy than anything else in the vast National Archives collection, and is the trigger for one of the most engaging hypotheticals in British history: what if the Gunpowder Plot had succeeded?<\/a><\/p>\n The Monteagle Letter takes its popular name from William Parker, Lord Monteagle, the man who on 26 October 1605 had his dinner interrupted by a servant bearing this mysterious missive. The letter spoke of \u201ca great blow\u201d that Parliament<\/a> would receive, and advised Monteagle to absent himself; it referred to \u201cthe love that I bear to some of your friends\u201d. It rejoiced in the thought that the bloodshed was deserved, and planned not just by man but also by God.<\/p>\n Monteagle was a Catholic, or had been once; the priest Oswald Tesimond described him as \u201ca Catholic at least according to his innermost convictions\u201d. He had this same summer written a letter to chief plotter Robert Catesby expressing his discontent at the standing of Catholics under the new regime. Besides this, Monteagle had very lately been imprisoned for his involvement in the Essex Rebellion. Although his status in court had lately been on the ascendant, he was perpetually under suspicion, so he greatly appreciated the chance to prove his loyalty to the King. He didn\u2019t lose a moment, leaving his fellow diners and rushing the letter to Whitehall, to Secretary of State Robert Cecil.<\/p>\n The King was out of town on a hunt, but on his return a few days later Cecil passed the letter on to him. The \u201cdivinely illuminated\u201d James brilliantly deduced (from the word \u201cblow\u201d and the reference to burning) that the letter was warning of a plot to blow up Parliament. Cecil had surely worked out the barely hidden meaning long before, but was never one to miss an opportunity to flatter the vain King and so complimented him most enthusiastically on his God-sent inspiration and his incisive intelligence. And of course they were correct: there was indeed a plot to blow up Parliament, on 5 November. Cecil ordered a search of the rooms under the Parliament chamber \u2013 revealing 36 barrels of gunpowder and a startled Guy Fawkes<\/a>. This much, at least, we know. The rest, as they say, is history; but of course history is never so simple.<\/p>\n With his network of informers intercepting correspondence across the Continent, it may be that Cecil knew of the plot long before Monteagle rushed into his audience clutching the tip-off. But if Cecil didn\u2019t know, or didn\u2019t know for sure, if he had any doubts at all \u2013 then this old page now in the National Archives can be credited with preventing an extraordinary coup, an incomprehensibly audacious, ambitious attempt to eliminate monarchy and government and all establishment, and replace it with \u2026 who knows? A Catholic England?<\/p>\n So to the letter itself. The writing has certainly been disguised. The hand is clumsy, but deliberately so \u2013 it\u2019s easy enough to see places where it has been altered to hide the writer\u2019s natural style. The prose and the vocabulary, meanwhile, are sophisticated. If we were meant to be fooled by the hand into thinking this the work of some barely literate servant, the words belie this.<\/p>\n Prime suspect for writing the letter has always been Francis Tresham, the plotters\u2019 last recruit, enrolled mainly for his recently inherited wealth. From the moment he joined the inner circle of plotters, Tresham had expressed his doubts about the justification for such massive loss of life, questioning whether, for instance, the Catholics in Parliament shouldn\u2019t be saved. And Tresham\u2019s sister Elizabeth was married to Lord Monteagle; does the wording in the letter \u2013 \u201csome of your friends\u201d \u2013 refer to Monteagle\u2019s wife? Circumstantial evidence aplenty, then. And indeed, suspicion fell on Tresham from the start. Catesby and another plotter Thomas Wintour summoned him to meet them at once; these two dedicated men were quite prepared to kill their friend for his betrayal.<\/p>\n And yet somehow Tresham was able to win them round. Whatever he said, whatever oaths he swore, Catesby and Wintour left the meeting convinced that Tresham was no traitor. And Catesby was not a man easily fooled. Maybe it wasn\u2019t Tresham, then? After the failure of the plot Tresham spent weeks in the Tower of London signing statements, writing letters to Cecil, insisting that he\u2019d opposed the plot all along and even offering assistance with the investigation \u2013 and yet never does he mention the letter. Odd, isn\u2019t it? And besides, the tone of the letter does seem convinced by the righteousness of the plot and doesn\u2019t sound like the voice of a waverer. But if not Tresham, then who?<\/p>\n There are at least as many possibilities as there were plotters. And no wonder there was a weak link. With so many men involved in the Gunpowder Plot \u2013 an unfortunate 13 \u2013 it would have been impressive if there had not been at least one Judas. And we mustn\u2019t assume that the letter was necessarily the work of one of them. Couldn\u2019t a devious Monteagle have written it himself? If he\u2019d suspected something was afoot and feared he would be implicated (he knew many of the conspirators, after all), such a letter would be a fine way of preventing the plot, demonstrating his innocence, and proving his allegiance to the King, at a stroke. He did after all do extremely well out of the whole situation \u2013 earning the gratitude and trust of James and Cecil, along with a generous pension, and even a poem by Ben Jonson in his honour.<\/p>\n![\"""\"](\""https:\/\/images.immediate.co.uk\/production\/volatile\/sites\/7\/2005\/11\/GettyImages-92821825-70931a1-e1667232317153.jpg?quality=90&resize=601%2C412"\" "\\"\"\"\\"\/")
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<\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/picture><\/div>In disguise<\/h3>\n
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<\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/picture><\/div>Unusual suspects<\/h3>\n
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