CHAPTER XVII.

The threatened storm bursts.--History of Titus Oates and Dr. Tonge.--A

dark scheme concocted.--The king is warned of danger.--The narrative of

a horrid plot laid before the treasurer.--Forged letters.--Titus Oates

before the council.--His blunders.--A mysterious murder.--Terror of the

citizens.--Lord Shaftesbury's schemes.--Papists are banished from the

capital.--Catholic peers committed to the Tower.--Oates is encouraged.

The marriage of the Lady Mary, though agreeable to the public mind, by

no means served to distract it from the turmoil by which it was beset.

Hatred of catholicism, fear of the Duke of York, and distrust of the

king, disturbed the nation to its core. Rumours were now noised abroad,

which were not without foundation, that the monarch and his brother had

renewed the treaty with France, by which Louis engaged to send troops

into England to support Charles, when the latter saw fit to lay aside

duplicity, and proclaim himself a catholic. And, notwithstanding the

rigorous Test Acts, it was believed many high positions at court were

held by those who were papists at heart. Occasion was therefore ripe

for the invention of a monstrous fraud, the history of which has been

transmitted under the title of the Popish Plot.

The chief contrivers of this imposture were Titus Oates and Dr. Tonge.

The first of these was son of a ribbon-weaver, who, catching the

fanatical spirit of the Cromwellian period, had ranted as an Anabaptist

preacher. Dissent, however, losing favour under the restoration, Oates,

floating with the current of the times, resolved to become a clergyman

of the Church of England, He therefore took orders at Cambridge,

officiated as curate in various parishes, and served as chaplain on

board a man-of-war. The time he laboured as spiritual shepherd to

his respective flocks was necessarily brief; for his grossly immoral

practices becoming notable, he was in every case ousted from his charge.

The odium attached to his name was moreover increased by the fact,

that his evidence in two cases of malicious prosecution had been proved

false; for which he had been tried as a perjurer. Deprived of his

chaplaincy for a revolting act of profligacy, driven from congregations

he had scandalized, homeless and destitute, he in an evil hour betook

himself to Dr. Ezrael Tonge, to whom he had long been known, and

besought compassion and relief.

The Rev, Dr. Tonge, rector of St. Michael's, Wood Street, was a

confirmed fanatic and political alarmist. For some years previous to

this time, he had published quarterly treatises dealing with such wicked

designs of the Jesuits as his heated brain devised. These he had printed

and freely circulated, in order, as he acknowledged, "to arouse and

awaken his majesty and the parliament" to a sense of danger. He had

begun life as a gardener, but left that honest occupation that he might

cultivate flowers of rhetoric for the benefit of Cromwell's soldiers.

Like Titus Oates, he had become suddenly converted to orthodox

principles on return of the king, and had, through interest, obtained

the rectorship of St. Michael's. Bishop Burnet considered him "a very

mean divine, (who) seemed credulous and simple, and was full of projects

and notions."

Another historian who lived in those days, the Rev. Laurence Eachard,

Archdeacon of Stowe, states Dr. Tonge was "a man of letters, and had a

prolific head filled with all the Romish plots and conspiracies since

the reformation." According to this author, Tonge took Oates into his

house, provided him with lodging, diet, and clothes; and when the latter

complained he knew not where to get bread, the rector told him "he would

put him in a way." After this, finding Oates a man of great ingenuity

and cunning, "he persuaded him," says Archdeacon Eachard, "to insinuate

himself among the papists, and get particular acquaintance with them;

which being effected, he let him understand that there had been several

plots in England to bring in popery, and that if he would go beyond

sea among the Jesuits, and strictly observe their ways, it was possible

there might be one at present; and if he could make that out, it would

be his preferment for ever; but, however, if he could get their names,

and some information from the papists, it would be very easy to rouse

people with the fears of popery."

Hungering for gold, and thirsting for notoriety, Oates quickly agreed to

the scheme laid before him. Accordingly he became acquainted with, and

was received into the Catholic Church by, Father Berry, a Jesuit, and in

May, 1677, was sent by the Jesuits to study in one of their seminaries,

situated in Valladolid, in Spain. Oates, however, though he had proved

himself an excellent actor, could not overcome his evil propensities,

and before seven months had passed, he was expelled from the monastery.

Returning to England, he sought out Dr. Tonge, to whom he was unable

to recount the secret of a single plot. Confident, however, that wicked

schemes against the lives and properties of innocent protestants were

being concocted by wily Jesuits, the fanatical divine urged Oates to

present himself once more before them, bewail his misconduct, promise

amendment, and seek readmission to their midst. Following his advice,

Oates was again received by the Jesuits, and sent to their famous

seminary at St. Omer's; where, though he had reached the age of thirty

years, he was entered among the junior students. For six months he

remained here, until his vices becoming noted, he was turned away in

disgrace. Again he presented himself before the rector of St. Michael's,

knowing as little of popish plots as he did on his previous return. But

Tonge, though disappointed, was not disheartened; if no scheme existed,

he would invent one which should startle the public, and save the

nation. Such proposals as he made towards the accomplishment of this

end were readily assented to by Oates, in whose breast wounded pride

and bitter hate rankled deep. Therefore, after many consultations they

resolved to draw up a "Narrative of a Horrid Plot." This was repeatedly

changed and enlarged, until eventually it assumed the definite shape of

a deposition, consisting of forty-three distinct articles, written

with great formality and care, and embodying many shocking and criminal

charges.

The narrative declared that in April, 1677, the deponent was employed

to carry letters from the Jesuits in London to members of their order in

Spain; these he broke open on the journey, and discovered that certain

Jesuits had been sent into Scotland to encourage the presbyterians

to rebel. Arrived in Valladolid, he heard one Armstrong, in a

sermon delivered to students, charge his majesty with most foul and

black-mouthed scandals, and use such irreverent, base expressions as no

good subjects could repeat without horror. He then returned to England,

and was soon after sent to St. Omer with fresh letters, in which was

mentioned a design to stab or poison his majesty--Pere la Chaise,

the French king's confessor, having placed ten thousand pounds at the

disposal of the Jesuits that they might, by laying out such a sum, the

more successfully accomplish this deed. While abroad the deponent

had read many letters, relating to the execution of Charles II., the

subverting of the present government, and the establishment of the

Romish religion. Returning again to England, he became privy to a treaty

with Sir George Wakeham, the queen's physician, to poison the king; and

likewise with an agreement to shoot him, made between the Jesuits and

two men, named Honest William and Pickering. He had heard a Jesuit

preach a sermon to twelve persons of quality in disguise, in which he

asserted "that protestants and other heretical princes were IPSO FACTO

deposed because such; and that it was as lawful to destroy them as

Oliver Cromwell or any other usurper." He also became aware that

the dreadful fire had been managed by Strange, the provincial of the

Jesuits, who employed eighty-six men in distributing seven hundred

fire-balls to destroy the city; and that notwithstanding his vast

expenses, he gained fourteen thousand pounds by plunder carried on

during the general confusion, a box of jewels, consisting of a thousand

carat weight of diamonds, being included in the robbery.

The document containing these remarkable statements was finished in

August, 1678. It now remained to have it brought before the king or

the council. Tonge was resolved this should be done in a manner best

calculated to heighten the effect of their narrative; at the same time

he was careful to guard the fact that he and Oates had an intimate

knowledge of each other. Not knowing any one of interest at court, he

sought out Christopher Kirby, a man employed in the king's laboratory,

of whom he had some slight knowledge, and, pledging him to the strictest

secrecy, showed him the "Narrative of the Horrid Plot," and besought

his help in bringing it under the notice of his majesty in as private a

manner as possible.

This aid was freely promised; and next day, the date being the 13th of

August, when the monarch was about to take his usual airing in the park,

Kirby drew near, and in a mysterious tone bade his majesty take care,

for his enemies had a design against his life, which might be put into

execution at any moment. Startled by such words, the king asked him

in what manner was it intended his life should be taken; to which he

replied, "It might be by pistol; but that to give a more particular

account of the matter, required greater privacy." The monarch, who

quickly recovered his first surprise, resolved to take his usual

exercise; and, subduing his curiosity, he bade Kirby attend him on his

return from the park, and tell him what he knew of the subject.

When the time arrived, Kirby saw his majesty alone, and related to him

in brief that two men waited but an opportunity to shoot him; and Sir

George Wakeham had been hired to poison him; which news, he concluded,

had been imparted to him by a worthy man living close at hand, who would

attend his majesty's pleasure when that was manifested.

Bewildered by such intelligence, yet suspicious of its veracity,

the king ordered Kirby to summon his informant that evening by eight

o'clock. When that hour came his majesty repaired to the Red Room, and

there met Dr. Tonge, who delivered his narrative into his hands. The

rector was convinced the great moment he had so long awaited, in which

he would behold the monarch aroused to a sense of his danger, had

arrived. He was doomed to bitter disappointment. His majesty coolly took

the narrative, and without opening it, said it should be examined into.

On this Tonge begged it might be kept safe and secret, "lest the full

discovery should otherwise be prevented and his life endangered." The

monarch replied that, before starting with the court to-morrow for

Windsor, he would place it in the hands of one he could trust, and

who would answer for its safety. He then bade him attend on the Lord

Treasurer Danby next morning.

In obedience to this command, Tonge waited on his lordship at the

appointed time, and by the character of his replies helped to develop

his story of the plot. When asked if the document he had given his

majesty was the original of the deponent, Tonge admitted it was in

his own handwriting. On this, Lord Danby expressed a desire to see

the original, and likewise become acquainted with its author. Nothing

abashed, the rector replied the manuscript was in his house, and

accounted for its possession by stating that, singularly enough, it had

been thrust under his door--he did not know by whom, but fancied it must

be by one who, some time before, had discussed with him on the subject

of this conspiracy. Whereon his lordship asked him if he knew the man,

and was answered he did not, but he had seen him lately two or three

times in the streets, and it was likely he should see him soon again.

Being next questioned as to whether he had any knowledge of Honest

William, or Pickering, the villains who sought the king's life, he

answered he had not. Immediately, however, he remembered it was their

habit to walk in St. James's Park, and said, if any man was appointed to

keep him company, he was almost certain he would have opportunities of

letting that person see these abominable wretches. Finally, Lord Danby

asked him if he knew where they dwelt, for it was his duty to have them

arrested at once; but of their abode Tonge was completely ignorant,

though he was hopeful he should speedily be able to obtain the required

information.

He was therefore dismissed, somewhat to his satisfaction, being

unprepared for such particular examination; but in a couple of days he

returned to the charge, determined his tale should not be discredited

for lack of effrontery, On this occasion he said he had met the man he

suspected of being author of the document, who owned himself as such,

and stated that his name was Titus Oates, but requested Tonge would keep

it a strict secret, "because the papists would murder him if they knew

what he was doing." Moreover, Oates had given him a second paper full of

fresh horrors concerning this most foul plot. Taking this with him,

the lord treasurer hastened to Windsor, that he might consult the king,

having first left a servant with Tonge, in hopes the latter might catch

sight of Honest William and Pickering in their daily walk through the

park, and have them arrested. On Danby recounting Tonge's statements to

the king, his majesty was more convinced than before the narrative was

wholly without foundation, and refused to make it known to his council

or the Duke of York. Therefore the lord-treasurer, on conclusion of

a brief visit, left Windsor for his country residence, situated at

Wimbledon.

For some days no fresh disclosure was made concerning this horrid plot,

until late one night, when Dr. Tonge arrived in great haste at Lord

Danby's house, and informed him some of the intended regicides

had resolved on journeying to Windsor next morning, determined to

assassinate the king. He added, it was in his power to arrange that

the earl's servant should ride with them in their coach, or at least

accompany them on horseback, and so give due notice of their arrival, in

order that they might be timely arrested. Alarmed by this intelligence,

Danby at once hastened to Windsor, and informed the king of what had

come to his knowledge. Both endured great suspense that night, and next

day their excitement was raised to an inordinate pitch by seeing the

earl's servant ride towards the castle with all possible speed. When,

however, the man was brought into his majesty's presence, he merely

delivered a message from Dr. Tonge, stating the villains "had been

prevented from taking their intended journey that day, but they proposed

riding to Windsor next day, or within two days at farthest." Before

that time had arrived, another message came to say, "one of their horses

being slipped in the shoulder, their trip to Windsor was postponed."

Taking these foolish excuses, as well as Dr. Tonge's prevaricating

answers and mysterious statements, into consideration, the king was now

convinced the "Narrative of a Horrid Plot" was an invention of a fanatic

or a rogue. He was, therefore; desirous of letting the subject drop into

obscurity; but Lord Danby, foreseeing in the sensation which its avowal

would create, a welcome cloud to screen the defects of his policy, which

parliament intended to denounce, urged his majesty to lay the matter

before his privy council. This advice the king refused to accept,

saying, "he should alarm all England, and put thoughts of killing

him into people's heads, who had no such ideas before." Somewhat

disappointed, the lord treasurer returned once more to Wimbledon, the

king remaining at Windsor, and no further news of the plot disturbed the

even tenour of their lives for three days.

At the end of that time Dr. Tonge, now conscious of the false steps

he had taken, conceived a fresh scheme by which his story might obtain

credence, and he gain wealth and fame. Accordingly he wrote to Danby,

informing him a packet of letters, written by the Jesuits and concerning

the plot, would, on a certain date, be sent to Mr. Bedingfield, chaplain

to the Duchess of York. Such information was most acceptable to Danby

at the moment; he at once started for Windsor, and laid this fresh

information before the king. To his lordship's intense surprise, his

majesty handed him the letters. These, five in number, containing

treasonable expressions and references to the plot, had been some hours

before handed by Mr. Bedingfield to the Duke of York, saying, he "feared

some ill was intended him by the same packet, because the letters

therein seemed to be of a dangerous nature, and that he was sure they

were not the handwriting of the persons whose names were subscribed

to the letters." On examination, they were proved to be most flagrant

forgeries. Written in a feigned hand, and signed by different names,

they were evidently the production of one man; the same want of

punctuation, style of expression, and peculiarities of spelling being

notable in all. The Duke of York, foreseeing malice was meant by them,

forcibly persuaded the king to place the epistles before the privy

council. Accordingly, they were handed to Sir William Jones, attorney

general, and Sir Robert Southwell, who stated, upon comparing them with

Dr. Tonge's narrative, they were convinced both were written by the same

hand.

Meanwhile, Tonge and Oates, aware of the coldness and doubt with

which his majesty had received the "Narrative of the Horrid Plot," and

ignorant of the fact he had placed the letters before his privy council,

resolved to make their story public to the world. It therefore happened

on the 6th of September they presented themselves before Sir Edmondbury

Godfrey, a justice of the peace, in the parish of St. Martin's, who, not

without considerable persuasion, consented to receive a sworn testimony

from Titus Oates regarding the truth of his narrative, which had now

grown from forty-three to eighty-one articles. This action prevented

further secrecy concerning the so-called plot.

A few days later the court returned to town for the winter, when the

Duke of York besought the privy council to investigate the strange

charges made in the declaration. Accordingly, on the 28th of the month,

Tonge and Oates were summoned before it, when the latter, making many

additions to his narrative, solemnly affirmed its truth. Aghast at

so horrible a relation, the council knew not what to credit. The evil

reputation Oates had borne, the baseness of character he revealed in

detailing his actions as a spy, the mysterious manner in which the

fanatical Tonge accounted for his possession of the document, tended

to make many doubt; whilst others, believing no man would have the

hardihood to bring forward such charges without being able to sustain

them by proof, contended it was their duty to sift them to the end.

Believing if he had been entrusted with secret letters and documents of

importance, he would naturally retain some of them in order to prove his

intended charges, the council asked Oates to produce them; but of these

he had not one to show. Nor, he confessed, could he then furnish proof

of his words, but promised if he were provided with a guard, and given

officers and warrants, he would arrest certain persons concerned in the

plot, and seize secret documents such as none could dispute. These being

granted him, he immediately caused eight Jesuits to be apprehended and

imprisoned. Then he commenced a search for treasonable letters, not only

in their houses, but in the homes of such catholics as were noted for

their zeal. His investigations were awaited with impatience; nor were

they without furnishing some pretext for his accusations.

One of the first dwellings which Titus Oates investigated was that of

Edward Coleman. This gentleman, the son of an English divine, had

early in life embraced catholicity, for the propagation of which he

thenceforth became most zealous. Coming under notice of the court, he

became the confidant of the Duke of York, and by him was made secretary

to the duchess. A man of great mental activity, religious fervour, and

considerable ambition, he had, about four years previous to this time,

entered into a correspondence with the confessor of the French king

and other Jesuits, regarding the hopes he entertained of Charles II.

professing catholicity. Knowing him to be bold in his designs and

incautious in his actions, the duke had discharged him from his post as

secretary to the duchess, but had retained him in his dependence. This

latter circumstance, together with a suspicion of the confidence which

had existed between him and his royal highness, prompted Oates to have

him arrested, and his house searched. Coleman, having received notice

of this design, fled from his home, incautiously leaving behind him some

old letters and copies of communications which had passed between him

and the Jesuits. These were at once seized, and though not containing

one expression which could be construed as treasonable, were, from

expectations they set forth of seeing catholicity re-established in

England, considered by undiscerning judges, proofs of the statements

made by Oates.

On the strength of his discovery, Oates hastened to Sir Edmondbury

Godfrey, and swore false informations; becoming aware of which, Coleman,

conscious of his innocence, delivered himself up, in hopes of meeting a

justice never vouchsafed him.

The Privy council now sat morning and evening, in order to examine

Oates, whose evidence proved untrustworthy and contradictory to a

bewildering degree. When it was pointed out to him the five letters,

supposed to come from men of education, contained ill-spelling, bad

grammar, and other faults, he, with much effrontery, declared it was a

common artifice among the Jesuits to write in that manner, in order

to avoid recognition; but inasmuch as real names were attached to the

epistles, that argument was not considered just. The subject was

not mentioned again. When an agent for these wicked men in Spain, he

related, he had been admitted into the presence of Don John, and had

seen him counting out large sums of money, with which he intended to

reward Sir George Wakeham when he had poisoned the king. Hearing this,

his majesty inquired what kind of person Don John was. Oates said he was

tall, lean, and black; whereas the monarch knew him to be small, stout,

and fair. And on another occasion, when asked where he had heard the

French king's confessor hire an assassin to shoot Charles, he replied,

"At the Jesuits' monastery close by the Louvre;" at which the king,

losing patience with the impostor, cried out, "Tush, man! the Jesuits

have no house within a mile of the Louvre!" Presently Oates named two

catholic peers, Lord Arundel of Wardour and Lord Bellasis, as being

concerned in the plot, when the king again spoke to him, saying these

lords had served his father faithfully, and fought his wars bravely, and

unless proof were clear against them, he would not credit they sought

him ill. Then Oates, seeing he had gone too far, said they did not know

of the conspiracy, but it had been intended to acquaint them with it in

good time. Later on he swore falsely against them.

Meanwhile the wildest sensation was caused by the revelations of this

"hellish plot and attempt to murder the king." The public mind, long

filled with hatred of papacy, was now inflamed to a degree of fury which

could only be quenched by the blood of many victims. To the general

sensation which obtained, a new terror was promptly added by the

occurrence of a supposed horrible and mysterious murder.

On the evening of Saturday, the 12th of October, Sir Edmondbury Godfrey

was missing from his home in the parish of St. Martin's. The worthy

magistrate was an easy going bachelor of portly appearance, much given

to quote legal opinions in his discourse, and to assert the majesty of

the law as represented in his person. He was alike respected for his

zeal by the protestants, and esteemed for his lenity by the catholics.

Bishop Burnet records the worthy knight "was not apt to search for

priests or mass-houses;" and Archdeacon Eachard affirms "he was well

known to be a favourer rather than a prosecutor of the papists."

Accordingly, his disappearance at first begot no evil suspicions; but as

he did not return on Monday, his servants became alarmed at the absence

of a master whose regularity was proverbial. His brothers were of

opinion he was in debt, and sought escape from his creditors; whilst his

friends, after their kind, were ready to name certain houses of doubtful

repute in which they were certain he had taken temporary lodgings. On

his papers being examined, it was found he had set his affairs in

order, paid all his debts, and destroyed a quantity of his letters and

documents. It was then remembered he had been occasionally susceptible

to melancholia--a disease he inherited from his father, who had perished

by his own hand. It was noted some days before that on which he was

missed, he had appeared listless and depressed. It was known the

imprisonment of his friend Coleman had weighed heavily on his spirits.

A terrible fear now taking possession of his relatives and friends,

thorough search was made for him, which proved vain until the Thursday

following his disappearance, when he was accidentally discovered lying

in a ditch, a cloth knotted round his neck, and a sword passed through

his body, "at or near a place called Primrose Hill, in the midway

between London and Hampstead."

If he had been murdered, no motive appeared to account for the deed;

neither robbery nor revenge could have prompted it. His rings and money,

gloves and cane, were found on and near his body; and it was known he

had lived in peace with all men. Nor did an inquest lasting two days

throw any light upon the mystery. If it were proved he had died by his

own hand, the law of that day would not permit his brothers to inherit

his property, which was found to be considerable. It was therefore their

interest to ignore the fact that strangulation pointed to FELO DE SE,

and to assume he had been murdered. Accordingly they prohibited

the surgeons from opening the body, lest examination should falsify

conclusions at which they desired to arrive. A verdict was ultimately

returned "that he was murdered by certain persons unknown to the jurors,

and that his death proceeded from suffocation and strangling by a

certain piece of linen cloth of no value."

Occurring at such a moment, his death was at once attributed to the

papists, who, it was said, being incensed that the magistrate had

received the sworn testimonies of Oates, had sought this bloody revenge.

Fear now succeeded bewilderment; desires of vengeance sprang from depths

of horror. For two days the mangled remains of the poor knight were

exposed to public view, "and all that saw them went away inflamed." They

were then interred with all the pomp and state befitting one who had

fallen a victim to catholicism, a martyr to protestantism. The funeral

procession, which took its sad way through the principal thoroughfares

from Bridewell to St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, numbered seventy-two

divines, and over twelve hundred persons of quality and consideration.

Arriving at the church, Dr. Lloyd, a clergyman remarkable for his fine

abhorrence of papists, ascended the pulpit, where, protected by two men

of great height and strength, he delivered a discourse, pointing to

the conclusion that Sir Edmondbury Godfrey had been sacrificed to the

catholic conspiracy, and instigating his hearers to seek revenge. Sir

Roger North tells us the crowd in and about the church was prodigious,

"and so heated, that anything called papist, were it cat or dog, had

probably gone to pieces in a moment. The catholics all kept close in

their houses and lodgings, thinking it a good composition to be safe

there."

The whole city was terror-stricken. "Men's spirits were so sharpened,"

says Burnet, "that it was looked on as a very great happiness that the

people did not vent their fury upon the papists about the town." Tonge

and Oates went abroad protected by body guards, arresting hundreds of

catholics; cannon were mounted around Whitehall and St. James's; patrols

paraded the streets by day and night; the trained bands were ready to

fall in at a moment's notice; preparations were made for barricading

the principal thoroughfares; the city gates were kept closed so that

admission could be only had through the wickets; and the Houses of

Parliament demanded a guard should keep watch on the vaults over which

they sat, lest imitators of Guy Fawkes might blow them to pieces.

Moreover, it was not alone the safety of the multitude, but the

protection of the individual which was sought to be secured. In the

dark confusion which general terror produced, each man felt he might be

singled out as the next victim of this diabolical plot, and therefore

devised means to guard his life from the hands of murderous papists.

North, in his "Examen," speaking of this period, tells us: "There was

much recommendation of silk armour, and the prudence of being provided

with it against the time the Protestants were to be massacred. And,

accordingly, there were abundance of those silken back, breast, and

headpots made and sold, that were pretended to be pistol proof; in which

any man dressed up was as safe as in a house, for it was impossible

anyone could go to strike him for laughing; so ridiculous was the

figure, as they say, of hogs in armour. This was the armour of defence;

but our sparks were not altogether so tame as to carry their provision

no further, for truly they intended to be assailants upon fair occasion,

and had for that end recommended also to them a certain pocket weapon,

which for its design and efficacy had the honour to be called a

protestant flail. It was for street and crowd work; and the engine

lurking perdue in a coat pocket, might readily sally out to execution,

and so, by clearing a great hall, or piazza or so, carry an election

by a choice of polling called knocking down. The handle resembled a

farrier's blood stick, and the fall was joined to the end by a strong

nervous ligature, that in its swing fell just short of the hand, and was

made of LIGNUM VITAE, or rather, as the poet termed it, MORTIS."

One day, whilst the town was in this state of consternation, Tonge sent

for Dr. Burnet, who hastened to visit him in the apartments allotted him

and Oates at Whitehall. The historian says he found Tonge "so lifted up

that he seemed to have lost the little sense he had. Oates came in," he

continues, "and made me a compliment that I was one that was marked out

to be killed. He had before said the same to Stillingfleet of him. But

he had made that honour which he did us too cheap, when he said Tonge

was to be served in the same manner, because he had translated 'The

Jesuits' Morals' into English. He broke out into great fury against the

Jesuits, and said he would have their blood. But I, to divert him from

that strain, asked him what were the arguments that prevailed on him to

change his religion and to go over to the Church of Rome? He upon that

stood up, and laid his hands on his breast, and said, 'God and His holy

angels knew that he had never changed, but that he had gone among them

on purpose to betray them.' This gave me such a character of him, that I

could have no regard to anything he said or swore after that."

The agitation now besetting the public mind had been adroitly fanned

into flame by the evil genius of Lord Shaftesbury. Eachard states that

if he was not the original contriver of this disturbance, "he was at

least the grand refiner and improver of all the materials. And so much

he seemed to acknowledge to a nobleman of his acquaintance, when he

said, 'I will not say who started the game, but I am sure I had the full

hunting of it.'" In the general consternation which spread over the land

he beheld a means that might help the fulfilment of his strong desires.

Chief among these were the exclusion of the Duke of York from the

throne, and the realization of his own inordinate ambition. A deist in

belief, he abhorred catholicism; a worshipper of self, he longed for

power. He had boasted Cromwell had wanted to crown him king, and he

narrated to Burnet that a Dutch astrologer had predicted he would yet

fill a lofty position. He had long schemed and dreamed, and now it

seemed the result of the one and fulfilment of the other were at

hand. The pretended discovery of this plot threatened to upheave the

established form of government, for the king was one at heart with those

about to be brought to trial and death. A quarter of a century had not

passed since a bold and determined man had risen up and governed Great

Britain. Why should not history repeat itself in this respect? the

prospect was alluring. Possessing strong influence, great vanity, and an

unscrupulous character, Shaftesbury resolved to stir the nation to its

centre, at the expense of peace, honour, and bloodshed.

On the 21st of October, Parliament assembled, when Lord Danby, much

against his majesty's inclination, brought the subject of the plot

before the Commons. This was a movement much appreciated by the House,

which, fired by the general indignation, resolved to deal out vengeance

with a strong hand. As befitted such intention, they began by requesting

his majesty would order a day of general fasting and prayer, to implore

the mercy of Almighty God. The king complying with this desire, they

next, "in consideration of the bloody and traitorous designs," besought

him to issue a proclamation "commanding all persons being popish

recusants, or so reputed," to depart ten miles from the city.

Accordingly, upwards of thirty thousand citizens left London before

the 7th of the following month, "with great lamentations leaving

their trades and habitations." Many of them in a little while secretly

returned again. A few days before this latest petition was presented

to the monarch, Oates had been examined before the House for over six

hours; and so delighted was he by the unprejudiced manner in which his

statements were received, that he added several items to them. These

were not only interesting in themselves, but implicated peers and

persons of quality to the number of twenty-six. The former, including

Lords Stafford, Powis, Petre, Bellasis, and Arundel of Wardour, were

committed to the Tower, the latter to Newgate prison.

At the end of his examination he was several times asked if he knew more

of the plot, or of those concerned with it, to which he emphatically

replied he did not. Three days later he remembered a further incident

which involved many persons not previously mentioned by him.

Both Houses now sat in the forenoon and afternoon of each day;

excitement was not allowed to flag. Oates seldom appeared before the

Commons without having fresh revelations to make; but the fertility of

his imagination by no means weakened the strength of his evidence in

the opinions of his hearers. "Oates was encouraged," writes John Evelyn,

"and everything he affirmed taken for gospel." Indignation against the

papists daily increasing in height, the decrees issued regarding them

became more rigorous in severity.

On the 2nd of November the king, in obedience to his Parliament, offered

a reward of twenty pounds for the discovery of any officer or soldier

who, since the passing of the Test Act, "hath been perverted to the

Romish religion, or hears mass." Two days later a bill was framed

"for more effectually preserving the king's person and government, by

disabling papists from sitting in either House of Parliament." As it was

feared a clause would be inserted in this, excluding the Duke of York,

the enemies of his royal highness more plainly avowed their object by

moving that an address be presented to the king, praying his brother

should "withdraw himself from his majesty's person and counsels." This

was the first step towards the Bill of Exclusion from Succession which

they hoped subsequently to obtain. The monarch, however, determined to

check such designs whilst there was yet time; and accordingly made a

speech to the peers, in which he said to them, "Whatever reasonable

bills you shall present to be passed into laws, to make you safe in

the reign of my successor, so they tend not to impeach the right of

succession, nor the descent of the crown in the true line, shall find

from me a ready concurrence."

The intended address was therefore abandoned for the present; but the

bill for disabling catholics from sitting in either House of Parliament,

having a clause which excepted the Duke of York from that indignity,

passed on the 30th of November.

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