Parliament soon showed that it was guided by the old Elizabethan spirit. An Act was passed ordering that the laws framed during the late reign against Jesuits， seminary priests， and recusants should be rigidly enforced； all persons studying in foreign colleges who did not return and conform within one year， as well as all students who should go abroad for instruction in future should be declared incapable of inheriting， purchasing， or enjoying any lands， chattels， or annuities in England； all owners or masters of vessels who should convey such passengers from the country were to be punished by confiscation of their vessel and imprisonment， and if any person should dare to act as tutor in a Catholic family without having got a licence from the bishop of the diocese， both the teacher and his employer should be fined ā2 for every day he violated the law.[4] Lord Montague， having ventured to speak his mind openly in the House of Lords against such a measure， was arrested for his "scandalous and offensive speech，" and was committed to the Fleet. The old penal laws and the new ones were enforced with unusual severity. Courts were everywhere at work drawing up lists of recusants and assessing fines. Never before， even in the worst days of Elizabeth， were the wealthy Catholics called upon to pay so much. Numbers of priests were seized and conveyed to the coasts for banishment abroad； one priest was put to death simply because he was a priest， and two laymen underwent a like punishment because they had harboured or assisted priests.
English Catholics were incensed at such pitiless persecution. Had it been inflicted by Elizabeth from whom they expected no mercy， it would have been cruel enough； but coming from a king， to whom they had good reason to look for toleration， and who before he left Scotland and after his arrival in London had promised an improvement of their condition， it was calculated to stir up very bitter feeling. Forgetful of the warnings of the Pope conveyed to the archpriest and the superior of the Jesuits， some of the more extreme men undertook a new plot against the king. The leading spirit in the enterprise was Robert Catesby， a gentleman of Warwickshire， whose father had suffered for his adhesion to the old faith. He planned to blow up the Parliament House at the opening of the session of Parliament when king， lords， and commons would be assembled. Hence his plot is known as the Gunpowder Plot. His followers had to be ready to rise when the results of this awful crime would have thrown the government into confusion.
They were to seize the children of the king and to assume control of the kingdom. The scheme was so utterly wicked and impracticable， that it is difficult to understand how any man could have conceived it or induced others to join in its execution. Unfortunately， however， Catesby secured the assistance of Thomas Winter， Guy Fawkes， an Englishman who had served in the Spanish army， John Wright， Thomas Percy， cousin of the Earl of Northumberland， Sir Everard Digby， and Francis Tresham. A mine was to be run under the House of Commons charged with gunpowder， which Fawkes undertook to explode. An adjoining house was secured， and the cellar stretching under the Parliament buildings was leased. Everything was arranged for the destruction of the king， lords and commons at the opening of Parliament fixed finally for the 5th November 1605， but Tresham， anxious to save his brother-in-law， Lord Monteagle， sent him a letter warning him to absent himself on the occasion. By means of this letter the plot was discovered， and Guy Fawkes was arrested. The other conspirators fled to Wales， where they hoped to stir up an insurrection， but at Holbeche where they halted they were surrounded by the forces of the sheriff of Worcester. In the struggle that ensued Catesby and several of his followers， who defended themselves with desperate courage， were killed， and the remainder were put to death before the end of the month (Nov. 1605).
Whether the plot had not its origin in the minds of some of the ministers， who in their desire for the wholesale destruction of Catholics had employed agents to spur on Catesby and his companions， or， at least had allowed them to continue their operations long after the designs had been reported it is difficult to determine； but immediately an outcry was raised that the plot had been organised by the Jesuits Garnet， Gerard， and Greenway， for whose arrest a proclamation was issued. Garnet had undoubtedly done much to persuade Catesby from having recourse to outrage or violence， and had never been consulted except in such a vague way that he could not possibly have suspected what was in contemplation. He had even secured from Rome a condemnation of violent measures， and had communicated this to Catesby. Greenway was consulted after the plot had been arranged， but apparently under the seal of confession with permission， however， to reveal it to none but Garnet， and according to Greenway's own statement he had done his best to persuade Catesby to abandon his design. Garnet was then consulted by his Jesuit companion， from whom he obtained permission to speak about the secret in case of grave necessity and after it had become public. When Garnet and Oldcorn had been arrested they were permitted to hold a conversation with spies placed in such a position that all they said could be overheard.
Garnet， when informed of this， told his story plainly and frankly. He was condemned and put to death， as was also Father Oldcorn. There is no evidence to show that the Jesuits urged on the conspirators to commit such a crime. On the contrary， both from the statements of the conspirators and of the Jesuits， it is perfectly clear that the Jesuits had used every effort to persuade the plotters to abandon their design， and the worst that could be said of Garnet is that he failed to take the steps he should have taken when he found that his advice had fallen on deaf ears.[5]