It would occupy too much space, were I to set down in detail all that
passed between the finding of Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey's body, and the
being brought to trial of the Jesuit Fathers. But a brief summary must
be given.
The funeral of Sir Edmund was held three or four days later in St.
Martin's, and the sermon was preached by Dr. Lloyd, his friend, who
spoke from a pulpit guarded by two other thumping divines, lest he
should be murdered by the Papists as he did it. There was a concourse of
people that cannot be imagined; and seventy-two ministers walked in
canonicals at the head of the procession. Dr. Lloyd spoke of the dead
man as a martyr to the Protestant religion.
By the strangest stroke of ill-fortune Parliament met ten days before
the funeral, which happened on the thirty-first of October; so that the
excitement of the people--greatly increased by the exhibition of the
dead body of Sir Godfrey--was ratified by their rulers--I say their
rulers, since His Majesty, it appeared, could do nothing to stem the
tide. It was my Lord Danby who opened the matter in the House of Peers
that he might get what popularity he could to protect him against the
disgrace that he foresaw would come upon him presently for the French
business; and every violent word that he spoke was applauded to the
echo. The House of Commons took up the cry; a solemn fast was appointed
for the appeasing of God Almighty's wrath; guards were set in all the
streets, and chains drawn across them, to prevent any sudden rising of
the Papists; and all Catholic householders were bidden to withdraw ten
miles from London. (This I did not comply with; for I was no
householder.) Besides all this, both men and women went armed
continually--the men with the "Protestants' flails," and ladies with
little pistols hidden in their muffs. Workmen, too, were set to search
and dig everywhere for "Tewkesbury mustard-balls," as they were
called--or fire-balls, with which it was thought that the Catholics
would set London a-fire, as Oates had said they would--or vast treasures
which the Jesuits were thought to have buried in the Savoy and other
places. Folks took alarm at the leastest matters; once my Lord Treasurer
himself rode into London crying that the French army was already landed,
when all that he had seen were some horses in the mist; once it was
thought, from the noise of digging that some fat-head heard, that the
Papists were mining to blow up Westminster. The King, whom I dared not
go to see in all this uproar, and who did not send for me, went to and
fro even in Whitehall, guarded everywhere--in private, as I heard,
pouring scorn upon the plot, yet in public concealing his opinion; and
upon the ninth of November he made a speech in the House of Lords,
confirming all my fears, thanking his subjects for their devotion, and
urging them to deal effectually with the Popish recusants that were such
a danger to the kingdom! In October, too, five Catholic Lords--the Earl
of Powis, Viscount Stafford, my Lord Petre, my Lord Arundell of Wardour,
and my Lord Bellasis were committed to the Tower on a charge of treason.
I saw Dr. Oates more than once during these days, coming out of
Whitehall with the guards that were given to protect him, carrying
himself very high, in his minister's dress; and no wonder, for the man
was the darling of the nation and was called its "Saviour," and had had
a great pension voted to him of twelve hundred pounds a year. He did not
think then, I warrant, of the day when he would be whipped from Newgate
to Tyburn at a cart's tail; and again, laid upon a sled and whipped
again through the City, for that he could not stand by reason of his
first punishment. Another fellow too had come forward, named Bedloe,
once a stable-boy to my Lord Bellasis, who had given himself up at
Bristol, with "information," as he called it, as to Sir Edmund's murder,
which he said had been done in Somerset House itself, by the priests and
others, saying that the wax that was found upon the dead man's breeches
came from the candles of the altar that the priests had held over him
while they did it! Presently too, at the trial and even before it,
Bedloe made his evidence to concur with Oates', though at the first
there was no sign of it. Even before the trial, however, the audacity of
the two villains waxed so great, as even to seek to embroil Her Majesty
herself in the matter, and to make her privy to the whole plot; and this
Oates did, at the bar of the House of Commons. But the King was so wrath
at this, that little more was heard of it.
The Duke of York, during these proceedings, saved himself very well.
When the Bill for the disabling of Papists from the holding of office or
of sitting in either House of Parliament, had passed through the
Commons, he made a speech upon it in the House of Lords, speaking so
well that others as well as he were moved to tears by it. He said that
his religion should be a matter between his soul and God only; and
should never affect his public conduct; and this with so much weight
that the decision was given in his favour, since he was the King's
brother. I should never have thought that he could have done so well.
Mr. Coleman was the first to be brought to trial, at the beginning of
December, for he came back and gave himself up the day after he had at
first fled. He was already pre-judged; for so violent was the feeling
against the Papists that my Lord Lucas said in the House of Lords that
if he could have his way, he "would not have even a Popish cat to mew
and purr about the King." Coleman, I say, was the first of those who had
before been accused; but a Mr. Stayley, a Catholic banker (who had his
house not far from me in Covent Garden), was even before him judged and
executed, on account of some words that a lying Scotsman had said he had
heard him use in the tavern in the same place.
I did not go to the trial of Mr. Coleman; for that I had nothing to say
for him; and indeed Mr. Coleman's own letters--written three or four
years ago--were the severest witnesses against him, in which he had
written to Father La Chaise--(whom Oates at first called Father Le
Shee)--the French King's confessor, and others, that if he could lay
hands on a good sum of money, he could accomplish a great project he
had for the restoration of the Catholic religion in England. (These
letters were found in a drawer he had forgotten, when he had burned all
the rest; and proved very unfortunate for him.) He meant by this, I have
no doubt, the bribing of many Parliament-men to win toleration, and to
get His Royal Highness restored as Lord High Admiral. He said this was
his meaning; and I see no reason to doubt it, for he was a pragmatical
kind of man, full of great affairs; but Chief Justice Scroggs waved it
all away; and it was made to appear exactly consonant with all that
Oates and Bedloe had said as to the project of killing the King. So
great was the excitement, not of the common people only, but of those
who should have known better, and so shrewd were these who took
advantage of it, that my Lord Shaftesbury, who was waxing very hot upon
the supposed Plot, for his own ends, was heard to say that any man that
threw doubt on the plot must be treated as an enemy. Mr. Coleman was
executed at Tyburn on the third day of December.
* * * * *
The trial of Father Ireland, Mr. Grove and Mr. Pickering--who was a
Benedictine lay-brother--was opened on the seventeenth day of December,
in the Sessions House at Justice Hall in the Old Bailey.
I was in the Court early, before the trial began, carrying a letter with
me which Mr. Chiffinch got for me from my Lord Peterborough, that I
might have a good place; and I had a very good one; for it was in a
little gallery that looked down into the well of the court, so that I
could see all that I wished, and the faces of all the prisoners, judges
and witnesses, and yet by leaning back could avoid observation--for I
had no wish, for others' sake, if not for my own, to be recognized by
any of the witnesses. The seats for my Lords were on the left, under a
state, with their desks before them; the place for the prisoners on the
right, facing the judges; and for the witnesses opposite to me. The jury
was beneath; and the counsels in front of them with their backs to me.
When the Court was full to bursting, my Lords came in, with the Chief
Justice--that is Sir William Scroggs--in the midst. I had never seen him
before, though I knew how hot he was against Catholics, and I looked to
see what he was like. It was a dark morning, and the candles were
lighted on my Lords' desks; and I could see his face pretty well in
their light. He was in scarlet, and wore his great wig; and he talked
behind his hand, with what seemed a great deal of merriment to Mr.
Justice Bertue, who sat on one side of him, and the Recorder Jeffreys
who sat upon the other. He had very heavy brows; his face was
clean-shaven, and his mouth was like a trap when he shut it, and looked
grave, as he did so soon as the clerk had done his formalities. He was a
strong man, I thought, who would brook no opposition, and would have his
way--as indeed he did; and the rest of my Lords had little or no say in
the proceedings; and least of all had the jury, except to do what the
Lord Chief Justice bid them.
The three prisoners--for Mr. Whitbread and Mr. Fenwick were presently
withdrawn to be tried later, since they could not get two false
witnesses against them at that time--were Mr. Ireland, Mr. Grove and Mr.
Pickering, and I looked upon them with infinite compassion, to see how
they would bear themselves. Mr. Pickering I had never seen before; so I
could not tell whether or no he bore himself as usual. But the two
others I had seen again and again; yet, with respect to them both I
remembered principally that occasion when Mr. Ireland had entertained
his mother and sister in Mr. Fenwick's lodging on that one night he was
in town, and gone off with them into the dark so merrily; and Mr. Grove
had brought up the chocolate in white cups, and we had all been merry
together. Now they stood here in the dock together, and answered to
their names cheerfully and courageously; and I could see that neither
anguish of heart nor the fear of death had availed to change their
countenances in the leastest degree. They stood there, scarcely moving,
except once or twice to whisper to one another, while Dr. Oates told his
lying tale.
It was now for the first time that I understood how shrewdly, and yet
how clumsily now and then, the man had weaved together his information.
He spoke with an abundance of detail that astonished me; he spoke of
names and places with the greatest precision; he related how himself had
been sent from St. Omer's with fifty pounds promised him, to kill Dr.
Tonge who had lately translated a book from the French named "The
Jesuits' Morals"; he spoke of a chapel in Mrs. Sanders' house, at
Wild-House, where he had been present, he said, at a piece of
conspiring; and so forth continually, interlarding his tale with bursts
of adjuration and piety and indignation, so evidently feigned--though
with something of the Puritan manner in it--that I marvelled that any
man could be deceived who did not wish to be; and all with his vile
accent. He spoke much also, as Mr. Whitbread had told me that he would,
of the consult of the Fathers--of all that is, who had the _jus
suffragii_ in England--that had been held at the White Horse Tavern in
the Strand, in April; pretending that at this the murder of the King was
again decided upon, and designed too, in all particulars; how Mr.
Pickering and Mr. Grove had been deputed to do the killing in St. James'
Park with screwed pistols, as His Majesty walked there, or if not there,
at Newmarket or Windsor; and how commissions had been given to various
persons (whom he named), which they were to hold in the army that was to
be raised, when His Majesty had been murdered, and the French King Louis
let in with his troops. Worst of all, however, was the assertion which
he made again and again that no Catholic's oath, even in Court, could be
taken to be worth anything, since the Pope gave them all dispensations
to swear falsely; for such an assertion as this deprives an accused man
of all favour with the jury and destroys the testimonies of all Catholic
witnesses. And, what amazed me most of all was that Chief Justice
Scroggs supported him in this, and repeated it to the jury again and
again. He said so first to Mr. Whitbread, before he was withdrawn.
"If you have a religion," he said, "that can give a dispensation for
oaths, sacraments, protestations and falsehoods, how can you expect that
we should believe you?"
"I know no such thing," said Mr. Whitbread very tranquilly.
Bedloe, too, told the same tale as he had told before, but with many
embellishments; and was treated by my Lords with as much respect, very
nearly, as Oates himself; and they were both given refreshment by the
Chief Justice's order.
* * * * *
I could have found it in my heart to kill that man--Oates, I mean--as he
stood there in his gown and bands and periwig, with his guards behind
him, swearing away those good men's lives; now standing upright, now
leaning on the rail before him, and now reposing himself on a stool that
was brought for him. His monstrous countenance was as the face of a
devil; he feigned now to weep, now to be merry. But most of all I hated
the man, when the piteous sight was seen of the entrance of Mrs. Ireland
and her daughter, who came to testify that Mr. Ireland was not in London
at all on those days in August when Oates had sworn that he had spoken
with him there. They stood there, as gallant women as might be, turning
their eyes now and again upon the priest who was all the world to them
by ties both of nature and grace; but all their testimony went for
nothing, since, first my Lord had told the jury that a Catholic's oath
was worth nothing, and next the prisoners had had no opportunity to know
what charges precisely they were that were to be brought against them,
and had had therefore no time to get their witnesses together. They
complained very sharply of this; but my Lord puffed it all away, and
would scarcely allow them to finish one sentence without interruption.
Mr. Ireland said upon one occasion that though he had no witnesses, for
he had had no time to get them, yet he could get witnesses that there
were witnesses.
"I know," said the Chief Justice, "what your way of arguing is; that is
very pretty. You have witnesses that can prove you have witnesses, and
those witnesses can prove that you have more witnesses, and so _in
infinitum_. And thus you argue in everything you do."
It was growing dark when the evidence (for so it was called) was done;
and the end was drawing near; and the candles which had been put out
long ago were lighted again by an usher, who came in with a taper when
the Lord Chief Justice called for lights. But the candles burned very
badly, by reason of the closeness of the Court in which so many persons
had been gathered for so long; and shed but a poor illumination. My eyes
were weary too with staring upon the people--now upon the monstrous face
of Oates, that was like a nightmare for terror, now upon the prisoners
so patient in the dock, and now upon my Lords on their high seats
beneath the state, and especially upon that hard and bitter face of
Chief Justice Scroggs who, if ever a man murdered innocent folk, was
murdering to-day the three men before him, by the direction which he
gave to the jury, and the manner he conducted the case. I could, by now,
see the faces only one by one, as each leant into the light of the
candles; and it appeared to me, again and again, that these were mocking
demons and not men, and Oates the lord of them all and of hell itself
from which they all came, and to which they must return. I closed my
eyes sometimes, both to rest them, and that I might pray for bare
justice to be done; but my prayers were to me like the lifting of
weights too great for my strength. One hope only remained to me, and
that lay in His Majesty; for, although he had permitted the deaths of
Coleman and of Stayley, these might indeed have appeared guilty to one
who knew nothing of them; but I could not find it in my heart to believe
that he would suffer these Jesuits to die, of whom he had sworn to me
that not a hair of their heads should be injured. I had determined, too,
to go to His Majesty, so soon as the trial was done, and the verdict
given as I knew it would be, and hear from his own lips that he would
keep his word, at whatever cost to himself.
It was dark then, by the time that all the evidence had been given, and
the Chief Justice had done his directing of the jury. The Court, crowded
though it was with the people, was as still as death, so soon as the
jury came back after a very short recess. I could hear only the
breathing of the folks on all hands. A woman sat beside me, who had
been as early as myself that morning; but she had roared and clapped
with the rest, at the earlier stages, when the Chief Justice had
silenced the prisoners or thrown doubt upon what they said. She was
quiet now, however, and I wondered how the evidence had affected her.
When the jury were ready to give their verdict, the talking that had
broken out a little, grew silent again; but when the verdict of Guilty
was given, it broke out once more into a storm of shouting; so that the
rafters rang with it. The woman beside me--for I sat at the end of a
bench and had nothing but the wall beyond me--appeared to awaken at the
tumult and join her voice to it, beating with her hand at the edge of
the gallery in front of her. As for me I looked at the prisoners. They
were all upright in their places, Mr. Ireland in the midst of the three;
and were as still as if nothing were the matter. They were looking at
the Lord Chief Justice, at whom I too turned my eyes, and saw he was
grinning and talking behind his hand to the Recorder. It was a very
travesty of justice that I was looking at, and no true trial at all.
There were a thousand points of dissonance that I had remarked
myself--as to how it was, for instance, that one fellow had been
promised twenty guineas for killing the King and another fifteen hundred
pounds; as to how it was that Oates, who professed himself so loyal, had
permitted four ruffians to go to Windsor (as he said), with intent to
murder the King, and that he had said nothing of it at the time. But all
was passed over in this lust for the Jesuits' blood.
I knew that my Lord would make a great speech on the affair, before he
would make an end and give sentence; for this was a great opportunity
for him to curry favour not only with the people, but with men like my
Lord Shaftesbury who was behind him in all the matter; and as I had no
wish to hear what he would have to say (for I knew it all by heart
already) and, still less to hear the terrible words of the sentence for
High Treason passed upon these three good men in the dock, I rose up
quietly from my place, and slipped out of the door by which I had come
in. As I was about to close the door behind me I heard silence made, and
my Lord Justice Scroggs beginning his speech--and these were the words
which first he addressed to the jury.
"Gentlemen," he said, "you have done like very good subjects and very
good Christians; that is to say like very good Protestants; and now much
good may their thirty thousand masses do them!" When he said this, he
was referring to a piece of Dr. Oates' lying evidence as to a part of
the reward that they should get for killing the King. But I closed the
door; for I could bear to hear no more. But afterwards I heard that they
then adjourned for an hour or two, and that it was the Recorder--Sir
George Jeffreys--that gave sentence.
When I presented myself, half an hour later, at Mr. Chiffinch's
lodgings, I had very nearly persuaded myself that all would yet be well.
For I thought it impossible that any man to whom the report of the trial
should be brought, could ever think that justice had been done; least of
all the King who is the fount of it, under God. I knew very well that
His Majesty would have to bear the brunt of some unpopularity if he
refused to sign the warrants for their death; but he appeared to me to
care not very much for popularity--since he outraged it often enough in
worse ways than in maintaining the right. He had said to me, too, so
expressly that no harm should come to the Fathers or to Mr. Grove and
Mr. Pickering either; and he had said so, I was informed, even more
forcibly to the Duke and those that were with him--saying that his right
hand should rot off if ever he took the pen into his hand for such a
purpose. I remembered these things, even while the plaudits of the crowd
still rang in my ears, and the bitter cruelty of my Lord Chief Justice's
words to the jury. His Majesty, I said to myself, is above all these
lesser folk, and will see that no wrong is done. And, besides all this,
he is half a Catholic himself and he knows against what kind of men
these charges have been made.
I was pretty reassured then, when I knocked upon the door of Mr.
Chiffinch's lodgings, and told the man who opened to me that I must see
his master.
He took me through immediately into the little passage I had been in
before, and himself tapped upon the door of the inner parlour; then he
opened it, and let me through: for Mr. Chiffinch was accustomed by now
to receive me at any hour.
He rose civilly enough, and asked me what I wished with him, so soon as
the door was shut.
"The verdict is given," I said. "I must see His Majesty."
He screwed up his lips in a way he had.
"It is Guilty, I suppose," he said.
I told him Yes;
"And I have never seen," I said, "such a travesty of justice."
He looked down upon the table, considering, drumming his fingers upon
it.
"That is as may be," he said. "But as for His Majesty--"
I broke out on him at that: for I was fiercely excited.
"Man," I cried, "there is no question about that. I must see His Majesty
instantly."
He looked at me again, as if considering.
"Well," he said. "What must be, must. I will see His Majesty. He is not
yet gone to supper."
At the door he turned again.
"The verdict was Guilty?" he said. "You were there and heard it?"
I told him Yes; for I was all impatient.
"And how was that verdict received in court?"
"It was applauded," I said shortly.
He still waited an instant. Then he went out.
* * * * *
I was all in a fever till he came back; for his manner and his
hesitation had renewed my terrors. Yet still I would not let myself
doubt. I went up and down the room, and looked at the pictures in it.
There was a little one by Lely, not finished, of my Lady Castlemaine,
done before she was made Duchess, which I suppose the King had given to
him; but I remembered afterwards nothing else that I saw at that time.
In about half an hour he came back again; but he shut the door behind
him before he spoke.
"His Majesty will see you in a few minutes," he said, "but he goes to
supper presently; and must not be detained. And there is something else
that I must ask you first."
I was all impatient to be gone; but impatience would not help me at all.
"Mr. Mallock," he said, sitting down, "did you see any man following you
from the Court? Or at the doors of the Palace?"
My heart stood still when he said that; for though I had done my best at
all times for the last month or two to pass unnoticed so far as I could,
I had known well enough that having been so much with the Jesuits as I
had, it was not impossible that I had been marked by some spy or other,
or even by Oates himself, since he had seen me go into Mr. Fenwick's
lodgings. But I had fancied of late that I must have escaped notice, and
had been more bold lately, as in going to the Court to-day.
"Followed?" I said. "What do you mean, Mr. Chiffinch?"
"You saw no fellow after you, or loitering near, at the gates, as you
came in?"
"I saw no one," I said.
"The gates were barred, as usual?"
"Yes," I said. "And the guard fetched a lieutenant before he would let
me in."
(For ever since the late alarms extraordinary precautions had been taken
in keeping the great gates of the Palace always guarded.)
"And you saw no one after you?"
"No one," I said.
"Well," said Mr. Chiffinch, "a fellow was after you. For when you were
gone in he came up to the guard and asked who you were, and by what
right you had entered. The lieutenant sent a mail to tell me so, and I
met him in the passage as I went out."
"Who was the fellow?"
"Oh! a man called Dangerfield. The lieutenant very prudently detained
him; and I went across and questioned him before I went to His Majesty.
I know nothing of the man, except that he hath been convicted, for I saw
the branding in his hand when we examined him. We let him go again
immediately."
"He knows my name?"
Mr. Chiffinch smiled.
"We are not so foolish as that, Mr. Mallock. He thinks you have some
place at Court; but we did not satisfy him as to your name."
I said nothing; for there was nothing to say.
"You had best be very careful, Mr. Mallock," went on the page, standing
up again. "You have been mixing a great deal with unpopular folks. You
will be of no service to His Majesty at all if you fall under suspicion.
You had best go back by water to the Temple Stairs."
He spoke a little coldly; and I perceived that he thought I had been
indiscreet.
"Well," he said, "we had best be going to His Majesty's lodgings."
I had flattered myself, up to the present, that I knew His Majesty's
capacities tolerably well. I thought him to be an easily read man, with
both virtues and vices uppermost, wearing his heart on his sleeve, as
the saying is--indolent, witty, lacking all self-control--yet not, as I
might say, a deep man. I was to learn the truth, or rather begin to
learn it, on this very night.
* * * * *
When I entered his private closet he was sitting not where I had seen
him before, but at the great table in the midst of the floor, with his
papers about him, and an appearance of great industry. He did not do
more than look up for an instant, and then down again; and I stood
there before him, after I had bowed and been taken no notice of, as it
were a scholar waiting to be whipped.
He was all ready for supper, in his lace, with his hat on his head; and
he was writing a letter, with a pair of candles burning before him in
silver candlesticks. His face wore a very heavy and preoccupied look;
and I was astonished that he paid me no attention.
He finished at last, threw sand on the paper from the pounce-box, and
pushed it aside. Then he leaned his cheeks in his hands, and his elbows
on the table, and looked at me. But he did not speak unkindly.
"Here you are then," he said. "And I hear you bring news from the Old
Bailey?"
"I came from there half an hour ago, Sir."
"Ah! And the verdict was Guilty, Mr. Chiffinch tells me?"
"Yes, Sir."
"How did the people take it?"
"They applauded a great deal, Sir."
"They applauded, you say. At the end only, or all the while?"
"They applauded, Sir, whenever any of my Lords made a hit against the
Catholics."
"Were there any who did otherwise?"
"Not one, Sir, that I could hear."
"The Chief Justice. What did he say?"
"He made many protestations of devotion to your Majesty, Sir, and to the
Protestant Religion. He beat down the Catholics at every point. He
permitted none of their witnesses to speak freely."
The King was silent a moment. Then he went on again.
"And the prisoners. How did they bear themselves?"
"They bore themselves like gallant gentlemen, Sir. They fought every
point, so far as the Chief Justice would permit them."
"Did they shew any fear when the verdict was brought in?"
"None, Sir. They relied upon your Majesty's protection, no doubt."
Again His Majesty was silent. I still stood on the other side of the
table from him, waiting to say what I had to say. The King shewed no
sign of having heard what I had last said.
Then, to my astonishment he turned on me again very sharply.
"Mr. Mallock," he said, "I have a fault to find with you. Mr. Chiffinch
tells me that you were followed from the Court, and that a fellow was
asking after you at the gate. You say that you wish to serve me. Well,
those who serve me must be very discreet and very shrewd. Plainly, you
have not been so in this instance. You are a very young man; and I do
not wish to be severe. But you must remember, Mr. Mallock, that such a
thing as this must not happen any more."
My mouth was gone suddenly dry at this attack of His Majesty upon me. I
licked my lips with my tongue in readiness to answer; but before I could
speak, the King went on again.
"Now I had a little business to entrust to you; but I am not sure if it
be not best to give it to another hand."
He took up from the table before him a newly sealed little packet that I
had not noticed before; and sat weighing it in his hand, as if
considering, while his eyes searched my face.
"Sir--" I began.
"Yes, Mr. Mallock, I know what you would say. That is all very well; but
my servants must not make mistakes such as you have made. It was the
height of madness for you to go to the Court at all to-day. I have no
doubt that you were seen there, and followed; and you could have been of
no service to your friends there, in any case. Mr. Chiffinch tells me he
will provide a wherry for you immediately, that you may go back without
observation. You must do this. The question before my mind is as to
whether you shall take this packet with you, or not. What do you say,
Mr. Mallock?"
All the while he had been speaking, I had been in a torment of misery.
As yet I had done little or nothing for His Majesty, after all my
commissioning from Rome; and now that the first piece of work was on
hand, it was doubtful whether I had not forfeited it by my clumsiness.
For the moment I forgot what I had come for. I was all set on acquitting
myself well. I was but twenty-one years old!
"Sir," I cried, "if your Majesty will entrust that to me, you shall
never repent it."
He smiled; but his face went back again to its heaviness. "It is a very
difficult commission," he said. "And, what is of more importance than
all else is that the packet should fall into no hand other than the one
that should have it. For this reason, there is no name written upon it.
But I have sealed it with a private signet of my own, both within and
without; and you must bear the packet with you until you can deliver
it."
"I understand, Sir."
"I can send no courier with it, for the reasons of which I have spoken.
No man, Mr. Mallock, but you and I must know of its very existence.
Neither can I tell you now to whom the packet must be given. You must
bear it with you, sir, until you have a message from me, signed with the
same seal as that which it bears, telling you where you must take it,
and to whom. You understand?"
"I understand, Sir."
"You must leave London immediately until your face is forgotten, and
until this storm is over. You have a cousin in the country?"
"Yes, Sir; Mr. Jermyn at Hare Street."
"You had best lie there for the present; and I can send to you there, so
soon as I have an opportunity. Meanwhile you must have this always at
hand, and be ready to set out with it, so soon as you hear where you
must go with it. That is all plain, Mr. Mallock?"
"I understand, Sir."
The King rose abruptly, pushing back his chair; and as he rose I heard
the trumpets for supper, in the Court outside.
"Then you had best be gone. Take it, Mr. Mallock."
I came round and received the packet; and I kissed the King's hand
which he had not given to me as I had come in. My heart was overjoyed at
the confidence which he shewed me; and I slipped the packet immediately
within my waistcoat. It was square and flat and lay there easily in a
little pocket which the tailor had contrived there. Then, as I stood up
again, the memory of what I had come for flashed back on me again.
"Sir," I said, "there is one other matter."
His Majesty was already turning away; but he stopped and looked over his
shoulder.
"Eh?" he said.
"Sir, it is with regard to the Jesuits who were condemned to-day."
He jerked his hand impatiently in a way he had.
"I have no time for that," he said, "no time."
Then he was gone out at the other door, and I heard him going
downstairs.
Now as I came downstairs again the further way, and heard the trumpets
go, to shew that the King was come out, I had no suspicion of anything
but my own foolishness in not speaking of what I had come about. But, by
the time that I was at the Temple Stairs, I wondered whether or no the
King had not had that very design, to put me off from which I wished to
say. And at the present time I am certain of it--that His Majesty wished
to hear from me at once of the proceedings at the trial, and then spoke
immediately of that other matter of the packet, and of my being followed
to the Palace Gates, with the express purpose of hindering me from
saying anything; for I am sure that at this time he had not yet made up
his mind as to what he would do when the warrants were brought to him,
and did not wish to speak of it.