A lover of mischief, to spread scandal was his chief amusement, and to propagate the rumour of plots his highest delight. By his advice, Oates, whom he found to be a bold impudent fellow, agreed to reconcile himself to the Romish communion, in order to discover the designs of the Catholics connected with the English court; to go beyond sea, and to enter into the society of the jesuits. All these directions Oates implicitly followed. He became a papist; visited different parts of France and Spain; resided some time in a seminary of jesuits at St. Omers; but was at last dismissed on account of bad behaviour, by that politic body, who never seem to have trusted him with any of their secrets. (1)

Oates, however, setting his wicked imagination at work, in order to supply the want of materials, returned to England burning with resentment against the jesuits, and with a full resolution of forming the story of a popish plot. This he accomplished in conjunction with his patron Dr. Tongue; and one Kirby, a chymist, and Tongue's friend, was employed to communicate the intelligence to the king. Charles made light of the matter, but desired to see Dr. Tongue; who delivered into his hands a narrative, consisting of fortythree articles, of a conspiracy to murder his majesty, to subvert the government, and to re-establish the Catholic faith in England. The king, having hastily glanced over the paper, ordered him to carry it to the lord-treasurer Danby, who treated the information more seriously than it seemed to deserve. Yet the plot, after all, would have sunk into oblivion, on account of the king's disregard to a tale accompanied with such incredible circumstances, had it not been for an artful contrivance of the impostors, that gave to the whole a degree of importance of which it was unworthy.

Tongue, who was continually plying the king with fresh information, acquainted the lord-treasurer, by letter, that a packet, written by jesuits, concerning the plot, and directed to Bedingfield, confessor to the duke of York, would soon be delivered. Danby, who was then in Oxfordshire, hastened to court; but before his arrival, Bedingfield had carried the letters to the duke, protesting that he did not know what they meant, and that they were not the handwriting of the persons whose names they bore. The duke carried them to the king; who was farther confirmed, by this incident, in his belief of an imposture, and of the propriety of treating it with contempt. But the duke, anxious to clear his confessor and the followers of his religion from such a horrid accusation, insisted on a thorough inquiry into the pretended conspiracy before the council. The council sat upon the business: Kirby, Tongue, and Oates were brought before them; and although the narrative of the latter was improbable, confused, and contradictory, the plot made a great noise, and obtained such universal credit, that it was considered as a crime to disbelieve it. The substance of Oates's evidence was, that he had been privy both at home and abroad, to many consultations among the jesuits for the assassination of Charles II., who, they said, had deceived them; that Grove and Pickering, the one an ordained jesuit, the other a lay brother, were at first appointed to shoot the king, but that it had afterward been resolved to take him off by poison, by bribing sir George Wakeman, the queen's physician, and a papist; that many jesuits had gone into Scotland, in disguise, to distract the government of that kingdom, by preaching sedition in the field conventicles; that he himself had assisted at a consultation of jesuits in London, where it was resolved to despatch the king by the dagger, by shooting, or by poison; and that, when he was busy in collecting evidence for a full discovery, he was suspected, and obliged to separate himself from them, in order to save his own life.(2)

The letters sent to Bedingfield were produced, in support of this evidence: and although they bore as evident marks of forgery as the narrative of imposture, the council issued orders for seizing such accused persons as were then in London. Sir George Wakemen was accordingly apprehended, together

(1) Burnet, ubi sup. See also Danby's Mem. Echard, Kennet, and James II. 1678

(2) Burnet, &c. ubi supra. See also Oates's Narrative.

with Coleman, late secretary to the dutchess of York; Langhorne, an eminent barrister at law, and eight jesuits, among whom was Pickering.(1) These steps of the council still farther alarmed the nation: the city was all in an uproar; and, apprehension and terror every where prevailing, the most absurd fictions were received as certain facts.

But this ferment would probably have subsided, and time might have opened the eyes of the public so as to discern the imposture, had it not been for certain collateral circumstances, which put the reality of a popish plot beyond dispute, in the opinion of most men. An order had been given, by the lord-treasurer, to seize Coleman's papers. Among these were found some copies of letters to father la Chaise, the French king's confessor, to the pope's nuncio at Brussels, and to other Catholics abroad; and as Coleman was a weak man, and a wild enthusiast in the Romish faith, he had insinuated many extraordinary things to his correspondents, in a mysterious language, concerning the conversion of the three British kingdoms, and the total ruin of the Protestant religion, which he termed pestilent heresy. He founded his hopes on the zeal of the duke of York, and spoke in obscure terms of aids from abroad, for the accomplishment of what he denominated a glorious work.(2)

These indefinite expressions, in the present state of men's minds, were believed to point distinctly at all the crimes in Oates's narrative; and as Coleman's letters for the last two years, which were supposed to contain the unfolding of the whole plot, had been conveyed out of the way before the others were seized, full play was left for imagination. Another incident completed the general delusion, and rendered the prejudices of the nation incurable. This was the murder of sir Edmundsbury Godfrey, an active justice of the peace, who had taken the deposition of Oates relative to his first narrative. He was found dead in a ditch near Primrose hill, between London and Hampstead, with his sword thrust though his body, his money in his pocket, and the rings on his fingers. From these last circumstances it was inferred, that his death had not been the act of robbers: it was therefore universally ascribed to the resentment of the Catholics; though it appears, that he had always lived on a good footing with that sect, and was even intimate with Coleman at the time that he took Oates's evidence.(3)

All possible advantage, however, was taken of this incident, in order to inflame the popular phrensy. The dead body of Godfrey was exposed to view for two whole days: the people in multitudes crowded around it; and every one was roused to a degree of rage approaching madness, as well by the mutual contagion of sentiments, as by the moving spectacle. His funeral was celebrated with great pomp and parade: the corpse was conducted through the chief streets of the city; seventy-two clergymen walked before, and above a thousand persons of distinction concluded the procession behind.(4) To deny the reality of the plot, was now to be reputed an accomplice; to hesitate, was criminal. All parties concurred in the delusion, except the unfortunate Catholics; who, though conscious of their own innocence, began to be afraid of a massacre similar to that of which they were accused. But their terror did not diminish that of others. Invasions from abroad, insurrections at home, conflagrations, and even poisonings, were apprehended. Men looked with wild anxiety at one another, as if every interview had been the last. The business of life was at a stand; all was panic, clamour, and confusion, which spread from the capital over the whole kingdom; and reason, to use the words of a philosophical historian, could no more be heard, in the present agitation of the human mind, than a whisper in the midst of the most violent hurricane.(5)

During this national ferment the parliament was assembled; and the earl of Danby, who hated the Catholics, who courted popularity, and perhaps hoped that the king would be more cordially beloved by the nation, if his

(1) Burnet, &c. ubi supra. See also Oates's Narrative.
(3) Burnet, vol. ii.
(4) North.

(2) Coleman's Letters

(5) Hume, vol. viii.

1

life was supposed to be in danger from the jesuits, opened the story of the plot in the house of peers. Charles, who wished to keep the whole matter from the parliament, was extremely displeased with this temerity, and said to his minister, "You will find, though you do not believe it, that you have given the parliament a handle to ruin yourself, as well as to disturb all my affairs, and you will certainly live to repent it!" Danby had afterward sufficient reason to revere the sagacity of his master.

The cry of the plot was immediately echoed from the upper to the lower house. The authority of parliament gave sanction to that fury with which the people were already animated. The commons voted an address for a solemn fast, and a form of prayer was framed for that occasion. Oates was brought before them; and finding that even the semblance of truth was no longer necessary to gain credit to his fictions, he made a bolder publication of his narrative at the bar of the house, adding many new and extraordinary circumstances. The most remarkable of these were, that the pope, having resumed the sovereignty of England, on account of the heresy of prince and people, had thought proper to delegate the supreme power to the society of jesuits; and that de Oliva, general of that order, in consequence of the papal grant, had supplied all the principal offices, both civil and military, with Catholic nobleman and gentlemen, many of whom he named. On this ridiculous evidence, the earl of Powis, with the lords Stafford, Arundel, Peters, and Bellasis, were committed to the tower, and soon after impeached for high-treason: and both houses voted, without one' dissenting voice, "that there has been, and still is, a damnable and hellish plot, contrived and carried on by papists, for murdering the king, subverting the government, and destroying the Protestant religion!"(1)

Encouraged by this declaration, new informers appeared. Coleman and a number of other Catholics were brought to trial, whose only guilt appeared to be that of their religion. But they were already condemned by the voice of the nation. The witnesses in their favour were ready to be torn in pieces: and the jury, and even the judges, discovered strong symptoms of prejudice against them. Little justice could be expected from such a tribunal. Many of those unhappy men died with great firmness, and all protesting their innocence to the last;(2) yet these solemn testimonies, after all hopes of life had failed, could not awaken compassion for their fate in the breast of a single spectator. They were executed amid the shouts of the deluded populace, who seemed to enjoy their sufferings.

From the supposed conspirators in the popish plot, the parliament turned its views to higher objects. A bill was introduced, by the commons, for a new test, in which popery was denominated idolatry; and all the members who refused this test were to be excluded from both houses. The bill passed the lower house, without opposition, and was sent up to the lords. The duke of York moved, in the house of peers, that an exception might be admitted in his favour; and with great earnestness, and even with tears in his eyes, he said, he was now to throw himself on their kindness, in the greatest concern he could have in this world. He dwelt much on his duty to the king, and his zeal for the prosperity of the nation; and he solemnly protested, that whatever his religion might be, it should be only a private thing between God and his own soul, and never should influence his public conduct. This exception being agreed to, the bill was returned to the commons; and, contrary to all expectation, the amendment was carried by a majority of two votes.(3)

The rage against popery, however, continued; and was in nothing more remarkable than in the encouragement given by the parliament to informers. Oates, who, granting his evidence true, must be regarded as an infamous scoundrel, was recommended by the two houses to the king. He was rewarded with a pension of twelve hundred pounds a year; guards were appointed for his protection; men of the first rank courted his company; and (2) Burnet, vol. ii. (3) Journals, Nov. 22, 1678

(1) Journals, October 31, 1678.

he was called the saviour of the nation. The employment of an informer became honourable; and, besides those wretches who appeared in support of Oates's evidence, a man high in office assumed that character.

Montague, the English ambassador at the court of France, disappointed in his expectation of being made secretary of state, returned without leave, and took his seat in the lower house. He had been deeply concerned in the money negotiations between Charles and Lewis. On the late disagreement of these two princes, he had been gained by the latter; and now, on the failure of his hopes of preferment from the court of England, he engaged, for one hundred thousand crowns, to disgrace the king and to ruin his minister, who was become peculiarly obnoxious to France.(1) Danby, having some intimation of this intrigue, ordered Montague's papers to be seized; but that experienced politician, prepared against the possibility of such a circumstance, had delivered into sure hands the papers that could most effectually serve his purpose. The violence of the minister afforded a kind of excuse for the perfidy of the ambassador. Two of Danby's letters were produced before the house of commons. One of these contained instructions to demand three hundred thousand pounds a year, for three years, from the French monarch, provided the conditions of peace should be accepted at Nimeguen, in conse quence of Charles's good offices; and, as Danby had foreseen the danger of this negotiation, the king, in order to remove his fears, had subjoined with his own hand, that the letter was written by his express orders.(2)

This circumstance rather inflamed than allayed the resentment of the commons, who naturally concluded, that the king had all along acted in concert with the French court, and that every step which he had taken, in conjunction with the allies, had been illusory and deceitful. It was immediately moved, that there is sufficient matter of impeachment against the lordtreasurer; and the question was carried by a considerable majority. Danby's friends were abashed, and his enemies were elated beyond measure with their triumph. The king himself was alarmed: his secret negotiations with France, before only suspected, were now ascertained. Many who wished to support the crown were ashamed of the meanness of the prince, and deserted their principles in order to save their reputation.

The articles exhibited against the treasurer were six in number; and consisted, besides the letters, of various mismanagements in office, most of which were either frivolous or ill-founded. Danby, upon the whole, had been a cautious minister. When the impeachment was read in the house of peers, he rose and spoke to every article. He showed that Montague, the informer against him, had himself promoted with ardour the money negotiations with Lewis. He cleared himself from the aspersion of alienating the king's revenue to improper purposes: and he insisted particularly on his known aversion against the interests of France; declaring, that whatever compli ances he might have made, he had always esteemed a connexion with that king pernicious to his master and destructive to his country.(3) The lords went immediately into a debate on the question; and, upon a division, the majority were against the commitment of Danby. The commons however insisted, that he should be sequestered from parliament and committed. A violent contest was likely to ensue; and the king, who thought himself bound to support his minister, and saw no hopes of ending the dispute by gentle means, first prorogued, and afterward dissolved the parliament.

This was a desperate remedy in the present critical state of the nation, and did not answer the end proposed. It afforded but a temporary relief, if it may not be said to have increased the disease. The new parliament, which the king was under the necessity of assembling, consisted chiefly of the most violent of the former members, reinforced by others of the same principles. The court had exerted its influence in vain: the elections were made with all the prejudices of the times. The king's connexions with

(1) Dalrymple's Append. p. 193,

(3) Journals of the Lords, Dec. 25, 1678. VOL. II.-P

(2) Journals, Dec. 14, 1678. See. also Danby's Papers.

France had alienated the affections of his subjects; but the avowed popery of the duke of York was a still more dangerous subject of jealousy and discontent. Sensible that this was the fatal source of the greater part of the misfortunes of his reign, and foreseeing the troubles that were likely to be occasioned by the violent spirit of the new representatives, Charles conjured his brother to conform to the established church. He even sent the archbishop of Canterbury and the bishop of Winchester to persuade him, if possible, to become again a Protestant; and on finding all their arguments lost on his obstinacy, he desired him to withdraw beyond sea, in order to appease the people, and to satisfy the parliament that popish counsels no longer prevailed at court. This proposal the duke also declined, as he apprehended that his retiring would be construed into an acknowledgment of guilt; but when the king insisted on his departure, as a step necessary for the welfare of both, he obeyed, after engaging Charles to make a public declaration of the illegitimacy of the duke of Monmouth. He went first to Holland, and then to Brussels, where he fixed his residence.(1)

James duke of Monmouth, natural son of Charles II. by Lucy Walters, and born about ten years before the restoration, possessed all the qualities that can engage the affections of the populace, with many of those that conciliate the favour of the more discerning part of mankind. To a gracefulness of person, which commanded respect, he joined the most winning affability; by nature tender, he was an enemy to cruelty; he was constant in his friendships, and just to his word. Active and vigorous in his constitution, he excelled in the manly exercises of the field. He was personally brave, and loved the pomp, and the very dangers of war; but he was vain even to a degree of folly, versatile in his measures, and weak in his understanding. This weakness rendered him a fit tool for the earl of Shaftesbury, the most able and unprincipled man of his age, and who had lately distinguished himself as much by his opposition against the court as formerly by the violence of his counsels in its favour, while one of the cabal. That bold and arch politician had flattered Monmouth with the hopes of succeeding to the crown. A story had even been propagated of his legitimacy, in consequence of a secret contract of marriage between the king and his mother. This story was greedily received by the multitude: and on the removal of the duke of York from the kingdom, and the prospect of his being excluded from the succession by the jealousy of parliament, it was hoped that Monmouth would be declared prince of Wales. But Charles, in order to cut off all such expectations, as well as to quiet his brother's apprehensions, made a solemn declaration before the privy council, that he was never married to any woman but the queen; and on finding that Monmouth continued to encourage the belief of the lawfulness of his birth, the king renewed his protestation, and made it particular against Lucy Walters.(2)

The subsequent events of this reign, my dear Philip, furnish abundant matter for the memorialist; but, the struggle between the king and parliament excepted, they have little relation to the line of general history. I shall, therefore, pass them over slightly, offering only the most important to your notice. One could wish that the greater part of them were erased from the English annals.

The new parliament, no way mollified by the dismission of the duke of York, discovered all the violence that had been feared by the court. The commons revived the prosecution of the earl of Danby: they reminded the lords of his impeachment; and they demanded justice in the name of the people of England. Charles, determined to save his minister, had already had the precaution to grant him a pardon. That he now avowed in the honse of peers; declaring that he could not think Danby in any respect crim 1, as he had acted in every thing by his orders. The lower house, paying no regard to this confession, immediately voted, that no pardon of the crown

(1) Burnet. vol. ii. James II., 1679.

(2) Kennet, vol. iii. Hume, vol. viil.