A early morning search of the cellars of the English Parliament building led to the discovery of 36 barrels of gunpowder and a man with slow match, and fuses. The man identified as Guido (Guy) Fawkes freely admitted that it was his intention to set off the fuse so that the powder when it exploded would destroy the House of Lords, all it's members, as well as King James the 1st who would be present. Fawkes was the "triggerman" of a plot by a group of Catholics who decided that the restrictions placed on their faith by the Parliament was too much to bear so they plotted the assassinations. Fawkes co-conspirators were quickly rounded up and "put to the question" (A term for torture) The net that the English government tossed out brought in quite a few priest, catholic laymen and others that might have been trouble to the King. Unfortunately there were innocent as well as guilty taken in. It did however crush for the time any attempts to restore the Catholic faith as the primary religion in England.
Today in England they still commemorate this event by searching the cellars of Parliament before it's opening as well as with the burning of the Guy. Children make life size dummies, place them on street corners and beg pennies from passers-by to buy fireworks. When darkness fell, the dummies were paraded in the neighborhoods then burned in bonfires to the accompaniment of fireworks, songs and chants. Up until recently, there was a VERY strong Anti-Catholic bias to the celebration which has been somewhat toned downed. I will close this post with a poem that was chanted during the burning of the Guy.
Remember, remember, the Fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason, and plot!
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent
To blow up King and Parliament.
Threescore barrels of powder below
To prove old England's overthrow.
By God's mercy, he was catch'd,
With dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa, boys, holloa, boys, make the bells ring.
Holloa, boys, holloa, boys, God save the King!
Hip, hip, huzzah!
A penny loaf to feed the Pope
A farthing o' cheese to choke him.
A pint of beer to rinse it down.
A faggot of sticks to burn him.
Burn him in a tub of tar.
Burn him like a blazing star.
Burn his body from his head.
Then we'll say ol' Pope is dead.
Hip hip hoorah! Hip hip hoorah hoorah!
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