paymaster. The king, whom the Jesuits called the Black Bastard, was solemnly tried by them, and condemned as a heretic. He asserted, that father Le Shee, meaning the French king's confessor La Chaise, had offered ten thousand pounds to any man who should kill the king. Ten thousand pounds had been offered to sir George Wakeman to poison him; but he was mercenary, and demanded fifteen thousand; which demand was complied with. Lest these means should fail, four Irish ruffians had been employed by the Jesuits, at the rate of twenty guineas for each, to stab the king at Windsor. Coleman was deeply involved in the plot, and had given a guinea to the messenger who carried orders for the assassination. Grove and Pickering, to make sure work, were employed to shoot the king, and that too with silver bullets. The former was to receive fifteen hundred pounds for his pains; the latter, being a pious man, thirty thousand masses. Pickering would have executed his purpose, had not the flint dropped out of his pistol at one time, and at another the priming. Oates went on to say that he himself was chiefly employed in carrying notes and letters among the Jesuits, all tending to the same end of murdering the king. A wager of a hundred pounds was made, and the money deposited, that the king should eat no more Christmas pies. The great fire of London had been the work of the Jesuits; several other fires were resolved on, and a paper model was already framed for firing the city anew. Fire-balls were called among them Tewkesbury mustard-pills. Twenty thousand catholics in London were prepared to rise; and Coleman had remitted two hundred thousand pounds to assist the rebels in Ireland. The crown was to be offered to the duke of York, in consequence of the success of these probable schemes, on condition of ex

tirpating the protestant religion. Upon his refusal"To pot James must go," as the Jesuits were said to express it.

In consequence of this dreadful information sufficiently marked with absurdity, vulgarity, and contradiction, Titus Oates became the favourite of the people; although, during his examination before the council, he so betrayed the grossness of his impostures, that he contradicted himself in every step of his narration. While in Spain, he had been carried, he said, to Don John, who promised great assistance to the execution of the catholic designs. The king asked him what sort of a man his old acquaintance Don John was. Oates replied, that he was a tall lean man ; which was directly contrary to the truth, as the king well knew. Though he pretended a great intimacy with Coleman, yet he knew him not when placed very near him, and had no other excuse than that his sight was bad by candle-light. He was guilty of the same mistake with regard to sir George Wakeman.

But these improbabilities had no weight against the general wish, if I may so express it, that they should be true. The violent animosity which had been excited against the catholics in general, made the people find a gloomy pleasure in hoping for an opportunity of satiating their hatred. The more improbable any account seemed, the more unlikely it was that any impostor should invent improbabilities, and therefore it appeared more like truth.

A great number of the Jesuits mentioned by Oates were immediately taken into custody. Coleman, who was said to have acted so strenuous a part in the conspiracy, at first retired; but next day surrendered himself to the secretary of state, and some of his papers, by Oates's directions, were secured. These papers,

which were such as might be naturally expected from a zealous catholic in his situation, were converted into very dangerous evidence against him. He had without doubt maintained, with the French king's confessor, the pope's nuncio at Brussels, and other catholics abroad, a close correspondence, in which there was a distant project on foot for bringing back popery, upon the accession of the duke of York. But these letters contained nothing that served as proof in the present information; and their very silence in that respect, though they appeared imprudent enough in others, was a proof against Oates's pretended discovery. However, when the contents of those letters were publicly known, they diffused the panic which the former narrative had begun. The two plots were brought to strengthen each other, and confounded into one. Coleman's letters showed there had actually been designs on foot, and Oates's narrative was supposed to give the particulars.

In this fluctuation of passions, an accident served to confirm the prejudices of the people, and put it beyond a doubt that Oates's narrative was nothing but the truth. Sir Edmondbury Godfrey, who had been so active in developing the whole mystery of the popish machinations, after having been missing some days, was found dead in a ditch near Primrose hill, in the way to Hampstead. His own sword was thrust through his body; but no blood had flowed from the wound; so that it appeared he was dead some time before this method was taken to deceive the public. He had money in his pockets; and there was a broad livid mark quite round his neck, which was dislocated. The cause of his death remains, and must still continue, a secret; but the people, already enraged against the papists, did not hesitate a moment to ascribe it to them. All doubts of the veracity of Oates vanished; the voice of

the whole nation united against them; and the populace were exasperated to such a degree, that moderate men began to dread a general massacre of that unhappy sect. The body of Godfrey was carried through the streets in procession, preceded by seventy clergymen ; and every one who saw it, made no doubt that his death could be caused by the papists only. Even the better sort of people were infected with this vulgar prejudice; and such was the general conviction of popish guilt, that no person, with any regard to personal safety, could express the least doubt concerning the information of Oates, or the murder of Godfrey.

It only remained for the parliament to repress these delusions, and to bring back the people to calm and deliberate inquiry. But the parliament testified greater credulity than even the vulgar. The cry of "plot" was immediately echoed from one house to another: the country party would not let slip such an opportunity of managing the passions of the people; the courtiers were afraid of being thought disloyal, if they should doubt the innocence of the pretended assassins of their king. Danby, the prime minister, entered into it very furiously; and though the king told him that he had thus given the houses a handle to ruin himself, and to disturb the affairs of government, yet this minister persevered, till he found the king's prognostic but too true.

The king himself, whose safety was thus threatened and defended, was the only person who treated the plot with becoming contempt. He made several efforts for stifling an inquiry, which was likely to involve the kingdom in confusion, and must at any rate hurt his brother, who had more than once professed his resolution to defend the catholic religion.

In order to continue and propagate the alarm, an ad

dress was voted for a solemn fast. It was requested that all papers tending to throw light upon so horrible a conspiracy might be laid before the house, that all papists should remove from London, that access should be denied at court to all unknown and suspicious persons, and that the trained bands in London and Westminster should be in readiness to march. They voted, after hearing Oates's evidence, that there was a damnable and hellish plot contrived and carried on by the popish recusants, for assassinating the king, and for rooting out the protestant religion. Oates, who had acknowledged the accusations against his morals to be true, was, however, recommended by parliament to the king. He was lodged in Whitehall, and encouraged by a pension of twelve hundred pounds a year to proceed in forging new informations.

The encouragement given to Oates did not fail to bring in others also, who hoped to profit by the delusion of the times. William Bedloe, a man, if possible, more infamous than Oates, appeared next upon the stage. He was, like the former, of very low birth, had been noted for several cheats and thefts, had travelled over many parts of Europe under borrowed names, and had. frequently passed himself for a man of quality. This man, at his own desire, was arrested at Bristol, and conveyed to London, where he declared before the council that he had seen the body of sir Edmondbury Godfrey at Somerset-house, where the queen lived. He said that a servant of lord Bellasis offered to give him four thousand pounds if he would carry it off. He was questioned about the plot, but utterly denied all knowledge of it, and also asserted that he had no acquaintance' with Oates. Next day, however, he thought it would be better to share the emoluments of the plot, and he gave an ample account of it. This narrative he made to tally