Remember,remember
The 5th of November
Is gunpowder treason and plot
I see no reason
Why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot*

*Traditional Guy Fawkes Day Chant

For weeks before November 5, Guy Fawkes Night, my brother and I gathered old rags and discarded clothes to make our "Guy," our effigy of Guy Fawkes, symbol of the Gunpowder Plot.

A little ragged sewing fashioned false feet and hands. We'd stuff a pudgy, vaguely head-shaped bulb on which we'd draw a face. Setting our creation in a borrowed wheelbarrow, we pushed it gleefully up and down the street, accosting every adult we met with broad grins and the ever popular demand: "Penny for the Guy?"

After we raised what felt like a king's ransom, our mother would take us to the shops, and we'd choose all the fireworks we wanted. Fully armed and primed, we eagerly would await the night.

Who would think children could derive so much pleasure from a terrorist plot to overthrow a king? Peculiarly British but true.

Until Henry VIII divorced Catherine of Aragon to marry Anne Boleyn, England was a most Catholic country. In theory, that meant the king of England served as a vassal of the pope and ruled at the pope's pleasure.

But when the pope refused to annul Henry's marriage to Catherine, the pope and all of Europe learned the king of England served at no one's pleasure but his own. Henry claimed the pope overstepped his rights, severed England's ties to Rome and established the Church of England with himself at its head.

Henry's creation survived his three children and all their kin. Catherine's daughter Mary tried to reunite the country with Rome. But by that time, the people of England had grown accustomed to seeing Catholics and Catholic countries -- like Spain -- as their enemies. Spain's attempt to invade England in 1588 only reinforced this impression.

But some people never surrender. In 1605, Guy Fawkes and 12 conspirators seeking to restore Catholic rule to a country that did not want it somehow obtained nearly two tons of gunpowder (36 barrels) and secreted it under the Houses of Parliament in London. The fireworks they intended were of a most lethal kind. The conspirators planned to blow up Parliament on November 6, during the opening ceremonies attended by King James and his family.

The conspiracy was doomed from the start. Most of the plotters had lived out of the country for many years. They believed their countrymen hated the new Scottish-born king and would return to "the one true Church" like the proverbial prodigal sons. They failed to understand the English equated papal authority with slavery and the Spanish Inquisition.

An anonymous letter of warning to Lord Monteagle (brother-in-law of one of the conspirators) revealed the plot only days before the scheduled ceremonies. The letter was shown to King James who ordered a search of the buildings around Parliament. By chance, some of the king's men noticed an unusual amount of firewood piled next to the cellar of a private house near the House of Lords. Learning the house was leased to a noted Catholic sympathizer confirmed their suspicions.

During a midnight raid on the suspect cellar November 5, the eve of the planned assault, Sir Thomas Knevett discovered Guy Fawkes with incriminating matches and fuses in hand.

Fawkes readily admitted his guilt, adding, "It's to send the Scottish beggars back to their native mountains."

The "Scottish beggars" never went back to their mountains, but the plotters were sent to their Maker after lengthy trials and executions featuring hanging, drawing and quartering

The ceremonial fires and celebrations of Guy Fawkes Day began the following year. Originally, Englishmen burned the pope in effigy, not the traitor Guy. Guy Fawkes wasn't added to the fires until 1806. And despite the "politically correct" spirit of the 1990s, some British communities still consign both pope and Guy to the flames.

Nowadays, bright eyes and banter set the stage for the Guy. Children run wild in gardens and streets while relatives and friends gather. As November's early dusk settles over the British Isles, the delicious aroma of baking potatoes and sausages wafts from a million kitchens. Marshmallows and bananas are readied for toasting.

When the last wan light bleeds from the sky, adults and children meet around a carefully stacked pile of wood on which rests a homemade "Guy" like the ones my brother and I made. They set match to wood and watch it slowly crackle into flames.

This is the true bonfire -- literally "Bone Fire," where the British burn the bones or effigies of enemies again and again to make sure they never return. The sparks from those fires mingle with the fireworks exploding overhead as revelers curl their hands around freshly baked "spuds" loaded with butter and topped with sausages.

I can still remember when we'd finally been put to bed, how my brother and I would lie there for what seemed like hours, listening and watching as the bangs and flashes of distant fireworks danced against the frost-laden sky.

Powder and Fawkes and treasonous plots, that's what British holidays are made of.

Stephen Smith