master's express orders, nay, that he was ready to swear any thing: but a had fallen short of them. James, at single witness was not sufficient; and Saint Germain's, would willingly have no second witness could be found. had it believed that his own inclina- More than two years had since elapsed. tions had been on the side of clemency, Cornish thought himself safe: but the and that unmerited obloquy had been eye of the tyrant was upon him. brought on him by the violence of his Goodenough, terrified by the near minister. But neither of these hard-prospect of death, and still harbouring hearted men must be absolved at the expense of the other. The plea set up for James can be proved under his own hand to be false in fact. The plea of Jeffreys, even if it be true in fact, is utterly worthless.

Trial and

malice on account of the unfavourable opinion which had always been entertained of him by his old master, consented to supply the testimony which had hitherto been wanting. Cornish was arrested while transacting business The slaughter in the West was over. on the Exchange, was hurried to gaol, The slaughter in London was was kept there some days in solitary execution about to begin. The govern- confinement, and was brought altogether of Cornish. ment was peculiarly desirous unprepared to the bar of the Old Bailey. to find victims among the great Whig The case against him rested wholly on merchants of the City. They had, in the evidence of Rumsey and Goodthe last reign, been a formidable part enough. Both were, by their own of the strength of the opposition. They confession, accomplices in the plot were wealthy; and their wealth was with which they charged the prisoner. not, like that of many noblemen and Both were impelled by the strongest country gentlemen, protected by entail pressure of hope and fear to criminate against forfeiture. In the case of Grey, him. Evidence was produced which and of men situated like him, it was proved that Goodenough was also impossible to gratify cruelty and rapa- under the influence of personal enmity. city at once: but a rich trader might Rumsey's story was inconsistent with be both hanged and plundered. The the story which he had told when he commercial grandees, however, though appeared as a witness against Lord in general hostile to Popery and to Russell. But these things were urged arbitrary power, had yet been too in vain. On the bench sate three scrupulous or too timid to incur the judges who had been with Jeffreys in guilt of high treason. One of the the West; and it was remarked by most considerable among them was those who watched their deportment Henry Cornish. He had been an that they had come back from the Alderman under the old charter of the carnage of Taunton in a fierce and City, and had filled the office of Sheriff excited state. It is indeed but too when the question of the Exclusion true that the taste for blood is a taste Bill occupied the public mind. In which even' men not naturally cruel politics he was a Whig: his religious may, by habit, speedily acquire. The opinions leaned towards Presbyterian- bar and the bench united to browbeat ism: but his temper was cautious and the unfortunate Whig. The jury, moderate. It is not proved by trust-named by a courtly Sheriff, readily worthy evidence that he ever approached found a verdict of Guilty; and, in the verge of treason. He had, indeed, spite of the indignant murmurs of the when Sheriff, been very unwilling to employ as his deputy a man so violent and unprincipled as Goodenough. When the Rye House Plot was discovered, great hopes were entertained at Whitehall that Cornish would appear to have been concerned: but these hopes were disappointed. One of the conspirators, indeed, John Rumsey,

public, Cornish suffered death within ten days after he had been arrested. That no circumstance of degradation might be wanting, the gibbet was set up where King Street meets Cheapside, in sight of the house where he had long lived in general respect, of the Exchange where his credit had always stood high, and of the Guildhall where

Trials and

and Eliza

he had distinguished himself as a to London, and took refuge in the popular leader. He died with courage house of John_Fernley, a barber in and with many pious expressions, but Whitechapel. Fernley was very poor. showed, by look and gesture, such He was besieged by creditors. He strong resentment at the barbarity and knew that a reward of a hundred injustice with which he had been pounds had been offered by the governtreated, that his enemies spread a ment for the apprehension of Burton. calumnious report concerning him. He But the honest man was incapable of was drunk, they said, or out of his betraying one who, in extreme peril, mind, when he was turned off. William had come under the shadow of his roof. Penn, however, who stood near the Unhappily it was soon noised abroad gallows, and whose prejudices were that the anger of James was more all on the side of the government, strongly excited against those who afterwards said that he could see in harboured rebels than against the Cornish's deportment nothing but the rebels themselves. He had publicly natural indignation of an innocent man declared that of all forms of treason slain under the forms of law. The the hiding of traitors from his vengeance head of the murdered magistrate was was the most unpardonable. Burton placed over the Guildhall.* knew this. He delivered himself up Black as this case was, it was not to the government; and he gave inforthe blackest which disgraced mation against Fernley and Elizabeth executions the sessions of that autumn at Gaunt. They were brought to trial. of Fernley the Old Bailey. Among the The villain whose life they had prebeth persons concerned in the Rye served had the heart and the forehead to Gaunt. House Plot was a man named appear as the principal witness against James Burton. By his own confession them. They were convicted. Fernley he had been present when the design was sentenced to the gallows, Elizabeth of assassination was discussed by his Gaunt to the stake. Even after all the accomplices. When the conspiracy horrors of that year, many thought it was detected, a reward was offered impossible that these judgments should for his apprehension. He was saved be carried into execution. But the King from death by an ancient matron of was without pity. Fernley was hanged. the Baptist persuasion, named Eliza- Elizabeth Gaunt was burned alive at beth Gaunt. This woman, with the Tyburn on the same day on which peculiar manners and phraseology Cornish suffered death in Cheapside. which then distinguished her sect, She left a paper, written, indeed, in no had a large charity. Her life was graceful style, yet such as was read by passed in relieving the unhappy of all many thousands with compassion and religious denominations, and she was horror. "My fault," she said, "was well known as a constant visitor of the one which a prince might. well have gaols. Her political and theological forgiven. I did but relieve a poor opinions, as well as her compassionate family; and lo! I must die for it." disposition, led her to do every thing She complained of the insolence of the in her power for Burton. She procured judges, of the ferocity of the gaoler, a boat which took him to Gravesend, and of the tyranny of him, the great where he got on board of a ship bound one of all, to whose pleasure she and for Amsterdam. At the moment of so many other victims had been sacriparting she put into his hand a sum ficed. In so far as they had injured of money which, for her means, was very large. Burton, after living some time in exile, returned to England with Monmouth, fought at Sedgemoor, fled

* Trial of Cornish in the Collection of State Trials; Sir J. Hawles's Remarks on Mr. Cornish's Trial; Burnet, i. 651.; Bloody Assizes; Stat. 1 Gul. & Mar.

herself, she forgave them: but, in that they were implacable enemies of that good cause which would yet revive and flourish, she left them to the judg ment of the King of Kings. To the last she preserved a tranquil courage, which reminded the spectators of the most heroic deaths of which they had

read in Fox. William Penn, for whom allowed to ransom themselves by giving exhibitions which humane men gene- evidence against him, seemed to require rally avoid seem to have had a strong explanation; and a disgraceful explaattraction, hastened from Cheapside, nation was found. When Oates, after where he had seen Cornish hanged, to his scourging, was carried into Newgate Tyburn, in order to see Elizabeth Gaunt insensible, and, as all thought, in the burned. He afterwards related that, last agony, he had been bled, and his when she calmly disposed the straw wounds had been dressed by Bateman. about her in such a manner as to This was an offence not to be forgiven. shorten her sufferings, all the bystanders Bateman was arrested and indicted. burst into tears. It was much noticed The witnesses against him were men that, while the foulest judicial murder of infamous character, men, too, who which had disgraced even those times were swearing for their own lives. was perpetrating, a tempest burst forth, None of them had yet got his pardon; such as had not been known since and it was a popular saying, that they that great hurricane which had raged fished for prey, like tame cormorants, round the deathbed of Oliver. The with ropes round their necks. The oppressed Puritans reckoned up, not prisoner, stupified by illness, was unwithout a gloomy satisfaction, the able to articulate, or to understand houses which had been blown down, what passed. His son and daughter and the ships which had been cast stood by him at the bar. They read away, and derived some consolation as well as they could some notes which from thinking that heaven was bearing he had set down, and examined his awful testimony against the iniquity witnesses. It was to little purpose. which afflicted the earth. Since that He was convicted, hanged, and quarterrible day no woman has suffered tered.* death in England for any political offence.*

of Bate

man.

tion of the

Never, not even under the tyranny of Laud, had the condition of Persecu It was not thought that Goodenough the Puritans been so deplor- Protestant Trial and had yet earned his pardon. able as at that time. Never Dissenters. execution The government was bent on had spies been so actively employed in destroying a victim of no high detecting congregations. Never had rank, a surgeon in the City, named magistrates, grand jurors, rectors and Bateman. He had attended Shaftes-churchwardens been so much on the bury professionally, and had been a alert. Many Dissenters were cited bezealous Exclusionist. He may possibly have been privy to the Whig plot; but it is certain that he had not been one of the leading conspirators; for, in the great mass of depositions published by the government, his name occurs only once, and then not in connection with any crime bordering on high treason. From his indictment, and from the scanty account which remains of his trial, it seems clear that he was not even accused of participating in the design of murdering the royal brothers. The malignity with which so obscure a man, guilty of so slight an offence, was hunted down, while traitors far more criminal and far more eminent were

* Trials of Fernley and Elizabeth Gaunt, in the Collection of State Trials; Burnet, i. 649; Bloody Assizes; Sir J. Bramston's Memoirs; Luttrell's Diary, Oct. 23. 1685.

fore the ecclesiastical courts. Others found it necessary to purchase the connivance of the agents of the government by presents of hogsheads of wine, and of gloves stuffed with guineas. It was impossible for the separatists to pray together without precautions such as are employed by coiners and receivers of stolen goods. The places of meeting were frequently changed. Worship was performed sometimes just before break of day and sometimes at dead of night. Round the building where the little flock was gathered sentinels were posted to give the alarm if a stranger drew near. The minister in disguise

*Bateman's Trial in the Collection of State Trials; Sir John Hawles's Remarks. It is worth while to compare Thomas Lee's evidence on this occasion with his confession previously published by authority.

was introduced through the garden and | blameless in life, however eminent for the back yard. In some houses there learning and abilities, could not venture were trap doors through which, in case to walk the streets for fear of outrages, of danger, he might descend. Where which were not only not repressed, but Nonconformists lived next door to each encouraged, by those whose duty it was other, the walls were often broken open, to preserve the peace. Some divines and secret passages were made from of great fame were in prison. Among dwelling to dwelling. No psalm was these was Richard Baxter. Others, who sung; and many contrivances were used had, during a quarter of a century, to prevent the voice of the preacher, in borne up against oppression, now lost his moments of fervour, from being heart, and quitted the kingdom. Among heard beyond the walls. Yet, with all these was John Howe. Great numbers this care, it was often found impossible of persons who had been accustomed to elude the vigilance of informers. In to frequent conventicles repaired to the the suburbs of London, especially, the parish churches. It was remarked that law was enforced with the utmost rigour. the schismatics who had been terrified Several opulent gentlemen were accused into this show of conformity might of holding conventicles. Their houses easily be distinguished by the difficulty were strictly searched, and distresses which they had in finding out the were levied to the amount of many collect, and by the awkward manner thousands of pounds. The fiercer and in which they bowed at the name of bolder sectaries, thus driven from the Jesus.* shelter of roofs, met in the open air, and determined to repel force by force. A Middlesex justice, who had learned that a nightly prayer meeting was held in a gravel pit about two miles from London, took with him a strong body of constables, broke in upon the assembly, and seized the preacher. But the congregation, which consisted of about two hundred men, soon rescued their pastor, and put the magistrate and his officers to flight.* This, how*Neal's History of the Puritans, Calamy's ever, was no ordinary occurrence. In Account of the ejected Ministers, and the Nongeneral the Puritan spirit seemed to be conformists' Memorial, contain abundant more effectually cowed at this conjune-Howe's farewell letter to his flock will be proofs of the severity of this persecution. ture than at any moment before or since. The Tory pamphleteers boasted that not one fanatic dared to move tongue or pen in defence of his religious opinions. Dissenting ministers, however

* Van Citters, Oct. 13. 1685.

Through many years the autumn of 1685 was remembered by the Nonconformists as a time of misery and terror. Yet in that autumn might be discerned the first faint indications of a great turn of fortune; and before eighteen months had elapsed, the intolerant King and the intolerant Church were eagerly bidding against each other for the support of the party which both had so deeply injured.

found in the interesting life of that great man, by Mr. Rogers. Howe complains that streets of London, and that his health had suffered from want of air and exercise. But the most vivid picture of the distress of the Nonconformists is furnished by their deadly enemy, Lestrange, in the Observators of September and October, 1685.

he could not venture to show himself in the

of James

at the height.

CHAPTER VI.

It was

JAMES was now at the height of power | affair since the beginning of the reign, The power and prosperity. Both in Eng-took the lead on this occasion, and land and in Scotland he had seemed to have the royal ear. vanquished his enemies, and a circumstance not less significant that no previous communication was made to Barillon. Both he and his master were taken by surprise. Lewis was much troubled, and expressed great, and not unreasonable, anxiety as to the ulterior designs of the prince who had lately been his pensioner and vassal. There were strong rumours that William of Orange was busied in organising a great confederacy, which was to include both branches of the House of Austria, the United Provinces, the kingdom of Sweden, and the electorate of Brandenburg. It now seemed that this confederacy would have at its head the King and Parliament of England.*

had punished them with a severity which had indeed excited their bitterest hatred, but had, at the same time, effectually quelled their courage. The Whig party seemed extinct. The name of Whig was never used except as a term of reproach. The Parliament was devoted to the King; and it was in his power to keep that Parliament to the end of his reign. The Church was louder than ever in professions of attachment to him, and had, during the late insurrection, acted up to those professions. The Judges were his tools; and, if they ceased to be so, it was in his power to remove them. The corporations were filled with his creatures. His revenues far exceeded those of his predecessors. His pride rose high. He was not the same man who, a few months before, in doubt whether his throne might not be overturned in an hour, had implored foreign help with unkingly supplications, and had accepted it with tears of gratitude. Visions of dominion and glory rose before him. He already saw himself, in imagination, the umpire of Europe, the champion of many states oppressed by one too powerful monarchy. So early as the month of June he had assured the United Provinces that, as soon as the affairs of England were settled, he would show the world how little he feared France. In conformity with these assurances, he, within a month after the battle of Sedgemoor, concluded with the States General a defensive treaty, framed in the very spirit of the Triple League. It was regarded, both at the Hague and at Versailles, as a most significant circumstance that Halifax, who was the constant and mortal enemy of French ascendency, and who had scarcely ever before been consulted on any grave

His fo

In fact, negotiations tending to such a result were actually opened. Spain proposed to form a close reign alliance with James; and he policy. listened to the proposition with favour, though it was evident that such an alliance would be little less than a declaration of war against France. But he postponed his final decision till after the Parliament should have reassembled. The fate of Christendom depended on the temper in which he might then find the Commons. If they were disposed to acquiesce in his plans of domestic government, there would be nothing to prevent him from interfering with vigour and authority in the great dispute which must soon be brought to an issue on the Continent. If they were refractory, he must relinquish all thought of arbitrating between contending nations, must again implore French assistance, must again submit to French dictation, must sink into a potentate of