Chapter V: Lincoln's Inn, and the Neighbourhood (1)

Lincoln's Inn -- Ben Jonson's Bricklaying -- Enactments against
Beards -- Oliver Cromwell, More, Hale, and other eminent
Students of Lincoln's Inn -- Lincoln's Inn Fields, or Square --
Houses there built by Inigo Jones -- Pepys's Admiration of the
Comforts of Mr. Povey -- Surgeons' College -- Sir Richard and
Lady Fanshawe, and Lord Sandwich -- Execution of the patriotic
Lord Russell, with an Account of the Circumstances that led to
and accompanied it, and some Remarks on his Character --
Affecting Passages from the Letters of his Widow -- Ludicrous
Story connected with Newcastle House.

Lincoln's Inn, upon the side of Chancery Lane, presents a long, old front of brick, more simple than clean. It is saturated with the London smoke. Within is a handsome row of buildings, and a garden, in which Bickerstaff describes himself as walking, by favour of the Benchers, who had grown old with him.[194] It will be recollected that Bickerstaff lived in Shire Lane, which leads into this inn from Temple-bar. The garden-wall on the side next Chancery Lane is said by Aubrey to have been the scene of Ben Jonson's performance as a bricklayer. We have spoken of it in our remarks on that lane; but shall now add the particulars. "His mother, after his father's death," says Aubrey, "married a bricklayer; and 'tis generally said that he wrought for some time with his father-in-law, and particularly on the garden-wall of Lincoln's Inn, next to Chancery Lane." Aubrey's report adds, that "a knight, or bencher, walking through and hearing him repeat some Greek names out of Homer, discoursing with him, and finding him to have a wit extraordinary, gave him some exhibition to maintain him at Trinity College in Cambridge."[195] Fuller says, that he had been there before at St. John's, and that he was obliged by the family poverty to return to the bricklaying.[196] "And let them not blush," says this good-hearted writer, "that have, but those who have not a lawful calling. He helped in the building of the new structure of Lincoln's Inn, where, having a trowell in his hand, he had a book in his pocket." A late editor of Ben Jonson rejects these literary accounts of the poet's bricklaying as "figments."[197] And he brings his author's own representations to prove that he left the business, not for the University, but the continent. As this writer has nothing, however, to oppose to what Aubrey and Fuller believed respecting the rest, the reports, so far, are worth as much as they were before. Nobody was more likely than Ben Jonson to carry a Greek or Latin book with him on such occasions: nor, as far as that matter goes, to let others become aware of it.

Pennant's sketch of Lincoln's Inn continues to be the best, notwithstanding all that has been said of it since his time. He begins with observing, that "the gate is of brick, but of no small ornament to the street." This is the gate in Chancery Lane.

"It was built," he continues, "by Sir Thomas Lovel, once a
member of this inn, and afterwards treasurer of the household
to Henry VII. The other parts were rebuilt at different times,
but much about the same period. None of the original building
is left, for it was formed out of the house of the Black
Friars, which fronted Holborn end of the palace of Ralph Nevil,
Chancellor of England, and Bishop of Chichester, built by him
in the reign of Henry III., on a piece of ground granted to him
by the king. It continued to be inhabited by some of the
successors in the see. This was the original site of the
Dominicians or Black Friars, before they removed to the spot
now known by that name. On part of the ground, now covered with
buildings, Henry Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, built an Inne, as it
was in those days called, for himself, in which he died in
1312. The ground did belong to the Black Friars; and was
granted by Edward I. to that great Earl. The whole has retained
his name. One of the Bishops of Chichester, in after times, did
grant leases of the buildings to certain students of the law,
reserving to themselves a rent, and lodgings for themselves
whenever they came to town. This seems to have taken place
about the time of Henry VII."

"The chapel," continues our author, "was designed by Inigo
Jones; it is built upon massy pillars, and affords, under its
shelter, an excellent walk. This work evinces that Inigo never
was designed for a Gothic architect. The Lord Chancellor holds
his sittings in the great hall. This, like that of the Temple,
had its revels, and great Christmasses. Instead of the Lord of
Misrule, it had its King of the Cocknies. They had also a Jack
Straw; but in the time of Queen Elizabeth he, and all his
adherents, were utterly banished. I must not omit, that in the
same reign sumptuary laws were made to regulate the dress of
the members of the house; who were forbidden to wear long hair,
or great ruffs, cloaks, boots, or spurs. In the reign of Henry
VIII. beards were prohibited at the great table, under pain of
paying double commons. His daughter, Elizabeth, in the first
year of her reign, confined them to a fortnight's growth, under
penalty of 3s. 4d.: but the fashion prevailed so strongly, that
the prohibition was repealed, and no manner of size limited to
that venerable excrescence."[198]

'Tis merry in the hall,
When beards wag all,

says the proverb; but the lawyers in those days had already so many refreshments to their solemnity, in masks and revels, that it was thought necessary to provide for decency of mastication in ordinary. Attempts to regulate trifles of this sort, however, have always been found more difficult than any others, the impertinence of the interference being in proportion. Think of the officers watching the illegal growth of the beard; the vexation of the "dandies," who wanted their beards out of doors; and the resentment of the unservile part of the elders! He that parted with his beard, rather than his three and fourpence, would be looked upon as an alien.

In the hall of Lincoln's Inn is Hogarth's celebrated failure of "Paul preaching before Felix." It seems hard upon a great man to exhibit a specimen of what he could not do. However, the subject does not appear to have been of the society's choosing. A bequest had been made them which produced a commission to Hogarth, probably in expectation that he would illustrate some of the consequences of good laws in his usual manner.

Old Fortescue was of Lincoln's Inn; Spelman, the great antiquary; Sir Thomas More; Cromwell; Sir Mathew Hale; Lord Chancellor Egerton, otherwise known by his title of Lord Ellesmere; Shaftesbury, the statesman; and Lord Mansfield. Dr. Donne also studied there for a short time, but left the Inn to enjoy an inheritance, and became a clergyman. However, he returned to it in after life as preacher of the lecture; which office he held about two years, to the great satisfaction of his hearers. Tillotson was another preacher. It is difficult to present to one's imagination the venerable judges in their younger days; to think of Hale as a gay fellow (which he was till an accident made him otherwise); or fancy that Sir Thomas More had any other face but the profound and ponderous one in his pictures. His face, indeed, must have been full of meaning enough at all times; for at twenty-one he was a stirring youth in Parliament; and at twenty he took to wearing a hair-shirt, as an aid to his meditations. It is interesting to fancy him passing us in the Inn square, with a glance of his deep eye; we (of posterity) being in the secret of his hair-shirt, which the less informed passengers are not.

The account of Hale's change of character, on his entrance into Lincoln's Inn, merits to be repeated.

"At Oxford," says his biographer, "he fell into many levities
and extravagances, and was preparing to go along with his
tutor, who went chaplain to Lord Vere, into the Low Countries,
with a resolution of entering himself into the Prince of
Orange's army, when he was diverted from his design by being
engaged in a lawsuit with Sir William Whitmore, who laid claim
to part of his estate. Afterwards, by the persuasions of
Serjeant Glanville, who happened to be his counsel in this
case, and had an opportunity of observing his capacity, he
resolved upon the study of the law, and was admitted of
Lincoln's Inn, November 8, 1629. Sensible of the time he had
lost in frivolous pursuits, he now studied at the rate of
sixteen hours a-day, and threw aside all appearance of vanity
in his apparel. He is said, indeed, to have neglected his dress
so much, that, being a strong and well-built man, he was once
taken by a press-gang, as a person very fit for sea-service,
which pleasant mistake made him regard more decency in his
clothes for the future, though never to any degree of
extravagant finery. What confirmed him still more in a serious
and regular way of life was an accident, which is related to
have befallen one of his companions. Hale, with other young
students of the Inn, being invited out of town, one of the
company called for so much wine, that notwithstanding all Hale
could do to prevent it, he went on in his excess till he fell
down in a fit, seemingly dead, and was with some difficulty
recovered. This particularly affected Hale, in whom the
principles of religion had been early implanted; and,
therefore, retiring into another room, and falling down upon
his knees, he prayed earnestly to God, both for his friend,
that he might be restored to life again, and for himself, that
he might be forgiven for being present and countenancing so
much excess; and he vowed to God, that he would never again
keep company in that manner, nor drink a health while he lived.
His friend recovered; and from this time Mr. Hale forsook all
his gay acquaintance, and divided his whole time between the
duties of religion, and the studies of his profession."

Cromwell is supposed to have been about two years in Lincoln's Inn, and while he was there attended to anything but the law, the future devout Protector being, in fact, nothing more or less than a gambler and debauchee. However, he is supposed to have run all his round of dissipation in that time. Mansfield's residence in Lincoln's Inn, when Mr. Murray, gave rise to a singular reference in Pope. It is in the translation of Horace's ode, "Intermissa Venus diu," where the poet says to the goddess--

"I am not now, alas! the man
As in the gentle reign of my Queen Anne.
To _number five_ direct your doves,
There spread round Murray all your blooming loves;
Noble and young, who strikes the heart
With every sprightly, every decent part;
Equal the injured to defend,
To charm the mistress, or to fix the friend."

This _number five_ to which Venus is to go with her doves, points out Murray's apartments in Lincoln's Inn. Pope, as we have mentioned elsewhere, thought that nature intended his noble acquaintance for an Ovid; a notion partly suggested, perhaps, by Ovid's having been a lawyer. It was during his residence in Lincoln's Inn, that the future Lord Chief Justice is said to have drunk the Pretender's health on his knees; which he very likely did. The charge was brought up twenty years afterwards, to ruin his prospects under the Hanover succession; but it came to nothing. One dynasty has no dislike to a strong prejudice in favour of a preceding dynasty, when the latter has ceased to be formidable. The propensity to adhere to royalty is looked upon as a good symptom; and the event generally answers the expectation. The favourite courtiers under the house of Brunswick have come of Jacobite families.

A century ago, according to a passage in Gay, Lincoln's Inn and the neighbourhood were dangerous places to walk through at night.

"Where Lincoln's Inn, wide space, is railed around,
Cross not with venturous step; there oft is found
The lurking thief, who while the daylight shone,
Made the wall echo with his begging tone:
That crutch, which late compassion moved, shall wound
Thy bleeding head, and fell thee to the ground.
Though thou art tempted by the linkman's call,
Yet trust him not along the lonely wall;
In the midway he'll quench the flaming brand,
And share the booty with the pilfering band.
Still keep the public streets, where oily rays,
Shot from the crystal lamp, o'erspread the ways."

The wall here mentioned is probably that which was not long since displaced by the new one, and the elegant structure that now adorns the east side of Lincoln's Inn Fields.

Lincoln's Inn Fields, now a handsome square, set more agreeably than most others, with grass plat and underwood, were first disposed into their present regular appearance by Inigo Jones, under the auspices of a committee of gentry and nobility, one of whom was Bacon. Inigo built some of the houses, and gave to the ground-plot of the square the exact dimensions of the base of one of the pyramids of Egypt. He could not have hit upon a better mode of conveying to the imagination a sense of those enormous structures. If the passenger stops and pictures to himself one of the huge slanting sides of the pyramid, as wide as the whole length of the square, leaning away up into the atmosphere, with an apex we know not how high, it will indeed seem to him a kind of stone mountain.

The houses in Lincoln's Inn Fields built by Inigo Jones are in Arch Row (the western side), and may still be distinguished. Pennant speaks of one of them as being "Lindesey House, once the seat of the Earls of Lindesey, and of their descendants, the Dukes of Ancaster." They are probably still a great deal more handsome inside, and more convenient, than any of the flimsy modern houses preferred to them; but London has grown so large, that everybody who can afford it lives at the fashionable outskirts for the fresh air. It is probable that Inigo's houses created an ambition of good building in this quarter. Pepys speaks of a Mr. Povey's house in Lincoln's Inn Fields as a miracle of elegance and comfort. His description of it is characteristic of the snug and wondering Pepys.

"Thence (that is to say, from chapel and the ladies) with Mr.
Povey home to dinner; where extraordinary cheer. And after
dinner up and down to see his house. And in a word, methinks,
for his perspective in the little closet; his room floored
above with woods of several colours, like, but above the best
cabinet-work I ever saw; his grotto and vault, with his bottles
of wine, and a well therein to keep them cool; his furniture of
all sorts; his bath at the top of the house, good pictures, and
his manners of eating and drinking; do surpass all that ever I
did see of one man in all my life."[199]

The Country and City Mouse, in Pope's imitation of Horace, go

To a tall house near Lincoln's Inn,

which had

Palladian walls, Venetian doors,
Grotesco roofs, and stucco floors.

The house of a late architect (Sir John Soane) is observable in Holborn Row (the north side of the square), and has a singular but pleasing effect, though not quite desirable perhaps in this northern climate, where light and sun are in request. It presents a case of stone, added to the original front, and comprising a balcony and arcade. Shrubs and plate-glass complete the taste of its appearance. On the opposite side of the way (called Portugal Row, most likely from our connection with Portugal in Charles the Second's time), the inhabitant of the above house had the pleasure, we believe, of contemplating his own work in the handsome front and portico of Surgeon's College. This mode of giving a new front to a house, and fetching it out into a portico, is an ingenious way of getting up an ornament to the metropolis at little expense. Surgeons' College, instead of being two or three old houses with a new face, looks like a separate building. In Portugal Row sometime lived Sir Richard Fanshawe, in whose quaint translation of the Camoens there is occasionally more genuine poetry, than in the less unequal version of Mickle. This accomplished person was recalled from an embassy in Spain, on the ground that he had signed a treaty without authority; which was fact; but the suspicious necessity of finding some honourable way of removing Lord Sandwich from his command in the navy, induced Lady Fanshawe and others to conclude that he was sacrificed to that convenience. He died on the intended day of his return, of a violent fever, aggravated, not improbably, perhaps caused, by this awkward close of his mission: for such things have been, with men of sensitive imaginations. His wife, a very frank and cordial woman, has left interesting memoirs of him, in which she countenances a clamour of that day, that Lord Sandwich was a coward. She adds, "He neither understood the custom of the (Spanish) court, nor the language, nor indeed anything but a vicious life; and thus (addressing her children) was he shuffled into your father's employment, to reap the benefit of his five years' negotiation."[200] We quote this passage here, because Lord Sandwich was himself an inhabitant of Lincoln's Inn Fields. His want of courage (a charge shamefully bandied to and fro between officers at that time) is surely not to be taken for granted upon the word of his enemies, considering the testimonies borne in his favour by the Duke of York and others, and his numerous successes against the enemy. It is possible, however, that the pleasures of Charles's court might have done him no good. Sandwich had been one of Cromwell's council. He appears afterwards to have been a gallant of Lady Castlemaine's; was a great courtier; and probably had as little principle as most public men of that age. Pepys, who was his relation, describes him as being a lute-player.

On Lady Fanshawe's return to England, she took a house for twenty-one years in Holborn Row (the north side of the Fields), where the contemplation of the houses opposite must have been very sad. Her account of the circumstances under which she returned is of a melancholy interest.

"I had not," she says, "God is my witness, above twenty-five
doubloons by me at my husband's death, to bring home a family
of three score servants, but was forced to sell one thousand
pounds' worth of our own plate, and to spend the Queen's
present of two thousand doubloons in my journey to England, not
owing nor leaving one shilling debt in Spain, I thank God; nor
did my husband leave any debt at home, which every ambassador
cannot say. Neither did these circumstances following prevail
to mend my condition, much less found I that compassion I
expected upon the view of myself, that had lost at once my
husband, and fortune in him, with my son, but twelve months
old, in my arms, four daughters, the eldest but thirteen years
of age, with the body of my dear husband daily in my sight for
near six months together, and a distressed family, all to be by
me in honour and honesty provided for; and, to add to my
afflictions, neither persons sent to conduct me, nor pass, nor
ship, nor money to carry me one thousand miles, but some few
letters of compliment from the chief ministers, bidding 'God
help me!' as they do to beggars, and they might have added,
'they had nothing for me,' with great truth. But God did hear,
and see, and help me, and brought my soul out of trouble; and,
by his blessed providence, I and you live, move, and have our
being, and I humbly pray God that that blessed providence may
ever relieve our wants, Amen."[201]

Lady Fanshawe was no coward, whatever her foes may have been. During a former voyage with her husband to Spain, when she had been married about six years, the vessel was attacked by a Turkish galley, on which occasion she has left the following touching account of her behaviour:--

"When we had just passed the straits, we saw coming towards us,
with full sails, a Turkish galley well manned, and we believed
we should be all carried away slaves, for this man had so laden
his ship with goods from Spain, that his guns were useless,
though the ship carried sixty guns; he called for brandy, and
after he had well drunken, and all his men, which were near two
hundred, he called for arms, and cleared the deck as well as he
could, resolving to fight rather than lose his ship, which was
worth thirty thousand pounds; this was sad for us passengers,
but my husband bid us be sure to keep in the cabin, and not
appear--the women--which would make the Turks think we were a
man-of-war, but if they saw women they would take us for
merchants and board us. He went upon the deck, and took a gun
and bandoliers, and sword, and, with the rest of the ship's
company, stood upon deck, expecting the arrival of the Turkish
man-of-war. This beast, the captain, had locked me up in the
cabin; I knocked and called long to no purpose, until at length
the cabin-boy came and opened the door; I, all in tears,
desired him to be so good as to give me his blue thrum cap he
wore, and his tarred coat, which he did, and I gave him
half-a-crown, and putting them on, and flinging away my
night-clothes, I crept up softly, and stood upon the deck by my
husband's side, as free from sickness and fear, as, I confess,
from discretion; but it was the effect of that passion which I
could never master.

"By this time the two vessels were engaged in parley, and so
well satisfied with speech and sight of each other's forces,
that the Turks' man-of-war tacked about, and we continued our
course. But when your father saw it convenient to retreat,
looking upon me, he blessed himself, and snatched me up in his
arms, saying, 'Good God, that love can make this change!' and
though he seemingly chid me, he would laugh at it as often as
he remembered that voyage."

We now come to an event, uniting the most touching circumstances of private life with the loftiest utility of public, and the benefits of which we are this day enjoying, perhaps in every one of our comforts. In this square, now possessed by inhabitants who can think and write as they please on all subjects, and the centre of which is adorned with roses and lilacs, was executed the celebrated patriot, Lord Russell. We should ill perform any part of the object of this work, if we did not dwell at some length upon a scene so interesting, and upon the circumstances that led to it.

Lord Russell (sometimes improperly called Lord William Russell, for he had succeeded to the courtesy-title by the decease of his elder brothers,) was son of William, Earl of Bedford, by Lady Ann Carr, daughter of Carr, Earl of Somerset; and he was beheaded in the year 1683, the last year but two of the reign of King Charles II., for an alleged conspiracy to seize the King's guards and put him to death. The conspiracy was called the Rye House Plot, but incorrectly as far as Lord Russell was concerned; for it is not proved that he ever heard of the house which occasioned the name; and he was condemned upon allegations which would have destroyed him, had no such place existed. The Rye House was a farm near Hoddesdon, in Hertfordshire, belonging to one of the alleged conspirators, and it had a bye-road near it through which Charles was accustomed to pass in returning from the races at Newmarket. It was said that the King was to have been assassinated in this road, but that a fire at Newmarket, which put the town into confusion, hastened his return to London before the conspirators had time to assemble.

Charles II., and his brother, the Duke of York, afterwards James II., in the prosecution of those designs against the liberty and religion of the state, which are now acknowledged by all historians, had lately succeeded in producing a strong re-action against the party opposed to them. This party, the Whigs, in their dread of arbitrary power and popery, had attempted with great pertinacity to exclude the Duke of York, an avowed papist, from the succession. They had indicted him as a popish recusant: they had listened, with too great credulity, to the story of a Popish Plot, for which several persons were executed: and while these strong measures were going forward, to which the general dread of popery encouraged them, they were inquiring into the King's illegal connections with France, and putting the last sting to his vexation by refusing him money. Charles's gambling and debaucheries kept him in a perpetual state of poverty. He was always endeavouring to raise money upon every shift he could devise, and misappropriating all he obtained, which completed the ingloriousness of his reign by rendering him a pensioner of France. He had a strong party of corruptionists in the House of Commons; but the public feeling against the Duke gave the elections a balance the other way; and the poor King was compelled, from time to time, to purchase what money he wanted, by the surrender of a popular right.

Driven thus from loss to loss, and not knowing where the diminution of his resources would end, Charles at length expressed himself willing to limit the powers of a Popish successor, though he would not consent to exclude him. The Whigs, strong in their vantage-ground, and backed by the voice of the country, rejected what they would formerly have agreed to, and insisted on the exclusion. And here the reaction commenced in Charles's favour. The Whigs had allied themselves to the dissenters, whose toleration they advocated in proportion as they opposed that of the Catholics. It was a contradiction natural enough at that time, when the remembrance of Protestant martyrdom was still lively, and the growth of philosophy had not neutralised the papal spirit, or, at least, was not yet understood to have done so; but by means of this alliance between the Whigs and Presbyterians Charles succeeded in awakening the fears of the orthodox. A secret treaty with the French King enabled him to reckon for a time on being able to dispense with the contributions of Parliament; and when the latter again pressed the exclusion bill, he dissolved them, with high complaints of their inveteracy against government, and artful insinuations of the favour they showed the dissenters. This declaration was read in all the churches and chapels, and produced the reaction he looked for. The Whig leaders, withdrawing into retirement, seemed to give up the contest for the present; but this was no signal to power to abstain from pursuing them. Charles, to secure himself a Parliament that should give him money without inquiry, and to indulge his brother in his love of revenge (not omitting a portion on his own account), set himself heartily about influencing the elections for a new House of Commons. The dissenters were persecuted all over the country; the Whig newspapers put down; one man, for his noisy zeal against Popery, put to death by means of the most infamous witnesses, who had sworn on the other side; and Shaftesbury's life was aimed at, but saved by the contrivances of the city authorities. The liberties of the city were then assailed, with but too great success, by means of judges placed on the bench for that purpose. Other corrupt law officers were brought into action; a servile lord-mayor was induced to force two sheriffs upon the city, in open defiance of law and a majority; in short, every obstacle was removed which accompanied the existence of properly constituted authorities, and of that late anti-popery spirit of the nation, which was now comparatively silent, for fear of being confounded with disaffection to the church.

For an account of what took place upon this corruption of church and bench, and neutralisation of the popular spirit, we shall now have recourse to the pages of the latest writer on the subject; who, though a descendant of Lord Russell, has stated it with a truth and moderation worthy of the best spirit of his ancestor. The narrative of the execution we shall take from an eye-witness, and intersperse such remarks as a diligent inquiry into the conduct and character of Lord Russell has suggested to our own love of truth.

"The election of the sheriffs," says our author, "seemed to
complete the victory of the throne over the people. It was
evident, from the past conduct of the court, that they would
now select whom they pleased for condemnation.

"Lord Russell received the news with the regret which, in a
person of his temper, it was most likely to produce. Lord
Shaftesbury, on other hand, who was provoked at the apathy of
his party, received with joy the news of the appointment of the
sheriffs, thinking that his London friends, seeing their necks
in danger, would join with him in raising an insurrection. He
hoped at first to make use of the names of the Duke of Monmouth
and Lord Russell, to catch the idle and unwary by the respect
paid to their characters; but when he found them too cautious
to compromise themselves, he endeavoured to ruin their credit
with the citizens. He said that the Duke of Monmouth was a tool
of the court; that Lord Essex had also made his bargain, and
was to go to Ireland; and that, between them, Lord Russell was
deceived. It is a strong testimony to the real worth of Lord
Russell, that, when he made himself obnoxious, either to the
court or to the more violent of his own party, the only charge
they ever brought against him was, that of being deceived,
either by a vain air of popularity or too great a confidence in
his friends.

"Lord Shaftesbury, finding himself deserted, then attempted to
raise an insurrection, by means of his own partisans in the
city. The Duke of Monmouth, at various times, discouraged these
attempts. On one of these occasions, he prevailed on Lord
Russell, who had come to town on private affairs, to go with
him to a meeting, at the house of Sheppard, a wine-merchant.

"Lord Shaftesbury, being concealed in the city at this time,
did not dare to appear himself at this meeting, but sent two of
his creatures, Rumsey and Ferguson. Lord Grey and Sir Thomas
Armstrong were also there; but nothing was determined at this
meeting.

"Soon after this, Lord Shaftesbury, finding he could not bring
his friends to rise with the speed he wished, and being in fear
of being discovered if he remained in London any longer, went
over to Holland. He died in January, 1683.

* * * * *

"After Shaftesbury was gone, there were held meetings of his
former creatures in the chambers of one West, an active,
talking man, who had got the name of being an atheist. Colonel
Rumsey, who had served under Cromwell, and afterwards in
Portugal; Ferguson, who had a general propensity for plots;
Goodenough, who had been under-sheriff; and one Holloway, of
Bristol, were the chief persons at these meetings. Lord Howard
was, at one time, among them. Their discourse seems to have
extended itself to the worst species of treason and murder; but
whether they had any concerted plan for assassinating the King
is still a mystery. Amongst those who were sounded in this
business was one Keeling, a vintner, sinking in business, to
whom Goodenough often spoke of their designs. This man went to
Legge, then made Lord Dartmouth, and discovered all he knew.
Lord Dartmouth took him to Secretary Jenkins, who told him he
could not proceed without more witnesses. It would also seem
that some promises were made to him, for he said in a tavern,
in the hearing of many persons, that 'he had considerable
proffers made him of money, and a place worth 100_l._ or 80_l._
per annum, to do something for them;' and he afterwards
obtained a place in the Victualling office, by means of Lord
Halifax. The method he took of procuring another witness was,
by taking his brother into the company of Goodenough, and
afterwards persuading him to go and tell what he had heard at
Whitehall.

"The substance of the information given by Josiah Keeling, in
his first examination, was, that a plot had been formed for
enlisting forty men, to intercept the King and Duke on their
return from Newmarket, at a farm-house called Rye, belonging to
one Rumbold, a maltster; that this plan being defeated by a
fire at Newmarket, which caused the King's return sooner than
was expected, the design of an insurrection was laid; and, as
the means of carrying this project into effect, they said that
Goodenough had spoken of 4,000 men and 20,000_l._ to be raised
by the Duke of Monmouth and other great men. The following day,
the two brothers made oath, that Goodenough had told them, that
Lord Russell had promised to engage in the design, and to use
all his interest to accomplish the killing of the King and the
Duke. When the Council found that the Duke of Monmouth and Lord
Russell were named, they wrote to the King to come to London,
for they would not venture to go farther without his presence
and leave. In the meantime, warrants were issued for the
apprehension of several of the conspirators. Hearing of this,
and having had private information from the brother of Keeling,
they had a meeting, on the 18th of June, at Captain Walcot's
lodging. At this meeting were present Walcot, Wade, Rumsey,
Norton, the two Goodenoughs, Nelthrop, West, and Ferguson.
Finding they had no means either of opposing the King or flying
into Holland, they agreed to separate, and shift each man for
himself.

"A proclamation was now issued for seizing on some who could
not be found; and amongst these, Rumsey and West were named.
The next day West delivered himself, and Rumsey came in a day
after him. Their confessions, especially concerning the
assassinations at the Rye-house, were very ample. Burnet says,
they had concerted a story to be brought out on such an
emergency.

"In this critical situation, Lord Russell, though perfectly
sensible of his danger, acted with the greatest composure. He
had long before told Mr. Johnson, that 'he was very sensible he
should fall a sacrifice; arbitrary government could not be set
up in England without wading through his blood.' The day before
the King arrived, a messenger of the Council was sent to wait
at his gate, to stop him if he had offered to go out; yet his
back-gate was not watched, so that he might have gone away, if
he had chosen it. He had heard that he was named by Rumsey; but
forgetting the meeting at Sheppard's, he feared no danger from
a man he had always disliked, and never trusted. Yet he thought
proper to send his wife amongst his friends for advice. They
were at first of different minds; but as he said he apprehended
nothing from Rumsey, they agreed that his flight would look too
like a confession of guilt. This advice coinciding with his own
opinion, he determined to stay where he was. As soon as the
King arrived, a messenger was sent to bring him before the
Council. When he appeared there, the King told him, that nobody
suspected him of any design against his person; but that he had
good evidence of his being in designs against his government.
He was examined upon the information of Rumsey, concerning the
meeting at Sheppard's, to which Rumsey pretended to have
carried a message, requiring a speedy resolution, and to have
received for answer that Mr. Trenchard had failed them at
Taunton. Lord Russell totally denied all knowledge of this
message. When the examination was finished, Lord Russell was
sent a close prisoner to the Tower. Upon his going in, he told
his servant Taunton that he was sworn against, and they would
have his life. Taunton said, he hoped it would not be in the
power of his enemies to take it. Lord Russell answered, 'Yes;
the devil is loose!'

"From this moment he looked upon himself as a dying man, and
turned his thoughts wholly upon another world. He read much in
the Scriptures, particularly in the Psalms; but whilst he
behaved with the serenity of a man prepared for death, his
friends exhibited an honourable anxiety to preserve his life.
Lord Essex would not leave his house, lest his absconding might
incline a jury to give more credit to the evidence against Lord
Russell. The Duke of Monmouth sent to let him know he would
come in and run fortunes with him, if he thought it could do
him any service. He answered, it would be of no advantage to
him to have his friends die with him.

"A committee of the Privy Council came to examine him. Their
inquiries related to the meeting at Sheppard's, the rising at
Taunton, the seizing of the guards, and a design for a rising
in Scotland. In answer to the questions put to him, he
acknowledged he had been at Sheppard's house divers times, and
that he went there with the Duke of Monmouth; but he denied all
knowledge of any consultation tending to an insurrection, or to
surprise the guards. He remembered no discourse concerning any
rising in Taunton; and knew of no design for a rising in
Scotland. He answered his examiners in a civil manner, but
declined making any defence till his trial, when he had no
doubt of being able to prove his innocence. The charge of
treating with the Scots, as a thing the council were positively
assured of, alarmed his friends; and Lady Russell desired Dr.
Burnet to examine who it could be that had charged him; but
upon inquiry, it appeared to be only an artifice to draw
confession from him; and notwithstanding the power which the
court possessed to obtain the condemnation of their enemies, by
the perversion of law, the servility of judges, and the
submission of juries, Lord Russell might still have contested
his life with some prospect of success, had not a new
circumstance occurred to cloud his declining prospects. This
was the apprehension and confession of Lord Howard. At first,
he had talked of the whole matter with scorn and contempt; and
solemnly professed that he knew nothing which could hurt Lord
Russell. The King himself said, he found Lord Howard was not
amongst them, and he supposed it was for the same reason which
some of themselves had given for not admitting Oates into their
secrets, namely, that he was such a rogue they could not trust
him. But when the news was brought to Lord Howard that West had
delivered himself, Lord Russell, who was with him, observed him
change colour, and asked him if he apprehended any thing from
him? He replied that he had been as free with him as any man.
Hampden saw him afterwards under great fears, and desired him
to go out of the way, if he thought there was matter against
him, and he had not strength of mind to meet the occasion. A
warrant was now issued against him on the evidence of West, and
he was taken, after a long search, concealed in a chimney of
his own house. He immediately confessed all he knew and more.

* * * * *

"Hampden and Lord Russell were imprisoned upon Lord Howard's
information; and, four days afterwards, Lord Russell was
brought to trial: but, in order to possess the public mind with
a sense of the blackness of the plot, Walcot, Hone, and Rouse
were first brought to trial, and condemned upon the evidence of
Keeling, Lee, and West, of a design to assassinate the
King."[202]

It is not necessary to enter at large into the trial. We shall give the main points of it, on which sentence was founded; but when it is considered that the bench had lately had an accession of accommodating judges; that Jeffries was one of the counsel for the prosecution; that the jury, illegally returned, were not allowed to be challenged; that the witnesses were perjured, contradicted themselves, and swore to save their lives; that one of them (Lord Howard) was a man of such infamous character, that the King said, "he would not hang the worst dog he had, upon his evidence;" that nevertheless the testimonies of the most honourable men against him were not held to injure his evidence, and that a crowd of them in Lord Russell's favour were of as little avail in giving the prisoner the benefit of a totally different reputation, it will be allowed, that our pages need not be occupied with details, which in fact had nothing to do with his condemnation.

The ground on which Lord Russell was sentenced to death was, that he had violated the law in conspiring the death of the King. He argued, that granting the charge to be true (which he denied), it was not that of conspiring the death of the King, but "a conspiracy to levy war;" that this was not treason within the statute (which it was not); and that if it had been, a statute of Charles II. made the accusation null and void, because the time had expired to which the operation of it was limited. The lawyers, who in fact had been compelled by their imperfect enactment to lay the charge on the ground of conspiring the King's death, had so worded the statute of Charles, that, like the oracles of old, it was capable of a double construction. But not to observe that the prisoner ought to have had the benefit of the doubt (and it has been generally thought that the statute was clearly the other way), they could never get rid of the necessity of assuming that the King's death was intended; whereas, nothing can be more plain, not only from their own enactments, but from all history, that an insurrection, though against a King himself, may have no such object; so that here was a man to be sacrificed to the _spirit_ of the law (which by its very nature should have saved him,) while the court, in this and a thousand other instances, was violating the letter of it.

"Of the Rye House Plot," says Mr. Fox, "it may be said, much
more truly than of the Popish, that there was in it some truth,
mixed with much falsehood. It seems probable, that there was
among some of the accused a notion of assassinating the King;
but whether this notion was ever ripened into what may be
called a design, and much more, whether it were ever evinced by
such an overt act as the law requires for conviction, is very
doubtful. In regard to the conspirators of higher ranks, from
whom all suspicion of participation in the intended
assassination has been long since done away, there is
unquestionable reason to believe that they had often met and
consulted, as well for the purpose of ascertaining the means
they actually possessed, as for that of devising others, for
delivering their country from the dreadful servitude into which
it had fallen; and thus far their conduct appears clearly to
have been laudable. If they went further, and did anything
which could be really construed into an actual conspiracy to
levy war against the King, they acted, considering the
disposition of the nation at that time, very indiscreetly. But
whether their proceedings had ever gone this length, is far
from certain. Monmouth's communications with the King, when we
reflect on all the circumstances of those communications,
deserve not the smallest attention; nor, indeed, if they did,
does the letter which he afterwards withdrew prove anything
upon this point. And it is an outrage to common-sense to call
Lord Grey's narrative, written as he himself states in his
letter to James II., while the question of his pardon was
pending, an authentic account. That which is most certain in
this affair is, that they had committed no overt act,
indicating the imagining the King's death, even according to
the most strained construction of the statute of Edward III.;
much less was any such act legally proved against them. And the
conspiracy to levy war was not treason, except by a recent
statute of Charles II., the prosecutions upon which were
expressly limited to a certain time, which in these cases had
elapsed; so that it is impossible not to assent to the opinion
of those who have ever stigmatised the condemnation and
execution of Russell as a most flagrant violation of law and
justice."[203]

The truth respecting Lord Russell seems to be, that he was a man of the highest character and the best intentions, who suffered himself, not very discreetly, to listen to projects which he disapproved, in the hope of seeing better ones substituted. There can be no doubt that he wished to make changes in an illegal government, short of interfering with the King's possession of the throne. He had a right, by law, to endeavour it. He had openly shown himself anxious to do so; and the doubt can be as little, that the Duke of York, from that moment marked him out for his revenge. Russell implied as much in the paper he gave the sheriff; showing, indeed, such a strong sense of it, as (considering the truly Christian style of the paper in general) is very affecting. It has been justly said of him, that he was a man rather eminent for his virtues than his talents. We cannot help thinking that the paucity of words, to which he repeatedly alludes himself, and which was very evident during his trial, did him serious injury, both then and before. We mean, that if he had had a greater confidence, he might have advocated his cause to very solid advantage, perhaps to his entire acquittal. It is touching to observe, in the account of his behaviour after sentence, how the excitement of the occasion loosened his tongue, and inspired him with some turns of thought, more lively, perhaps, than he had been accustomed to. His character has been respectfully treated by all parties since the Revolution, and his death lamented. A startling charge, however, was brought against him and Sidney, in consequence of the discovery of a set of papers belonging to Barillon, the French Ambassador of that time, in which Sidney's name appears set down for five hundred pounds of secret service money from the French Government, and Russell is described as having interviews with Barillon's agent, Rouvigny, tending to prevent a war disagreeable both to Louis and the English patriots. The vague allusions of some modern writers, together with an unsupported assertion of Ralph Montague, the intriguing English Ambassador in France, that money was to be distributed in Parliament "by means of William Russell, and other discontented people," have tended to lump together in the public mind the two charges occasioned by these documents. But they are quite distinct. Lord Russell had nothing to do with the money-list, in which the name of Sidney appears. The amount of the matter is this. Charles II. was always pretending to go to war with France, chiefly to get money for his debaucheries, and partly to raise an army which he might turn against the constitution. The nation, in their hatred of Louis's anti-protestant bigotry, and their old and less warrantable propensity to fight with those whom they publicly considered as their natural enemies (a delusion, we trust, now going by), were always in a state to be deceived by Charles on this point; and the patriots were as regularly perplexed how to agree to the wishes of the King and people, knowing as they did, the former's insincerity, loth to give him more money to squander, and yet anxious to show their dislike of an arbitrary neighbour, and afraid of his being in collision with their prince. Their greatest fear, however, was upon this last point: it was very strong at the juncture in question; and therefore, when Louis gave them to understand, through his agent, that he himself was desirous of avoiding a war, Russell certainly does appear to have allowed the agent to talk with him on the subject, and to have expressed a willingness to influence the votes of Parliament accordingly. There was a further understanding that Louis was to complete the mutual favour, by assisting to obtain a dissolution of Parliament, in case the peace should continue; for the patriots expected very different things from a dissolution at that time (1678), than what it produced afterwards. Russell's noble biographer justly observes, that for the truth of these statements we are to trust Rouvigny's report, coming through the hands of Barillon: but granting them to be true, he thinks there was nothing criminal in the intercourse. He observes, that, in the first place, Russell was Rouvigny's kinsman by marriage, being first cousin to his wife, which accounts for the commencement of the intercourse; and, secondly,

"The imminent danger," he says, "which threatened us from the
conduct of France abetting the designs of Charles, cannot, at
this day, be properly estimated. At the very time when
Parliament was giving money for a war, Lord Danby was writing,
by his master's order, to beg for money as the price of peace.
We shall presently see, that five days after the House of
Commons had passed the act for a supply, Lord Danby wrote to
Paris, that Charles expected six millions yearly from France.
Had Louis been sincere in the project of making Charles
absolute, there can be no doubt that it might have been easily
accomplished. Was not this sufficient to justify the popular
party in attempting to turn the battery the other way? The
question was not, whether to admit foreign interference, but
whether to direct foreign interference, already admitted, to a
good object. The conduct of Lord Russell, therefore, was not
criminal; but it would be difficult to acquit him of the charge
of imprudence. The object of Louis must have been, by giving
hopes to each party in turn, to obtain the command of both.
Charles, on the other hand, was ready to debase himself to the
lowest point, to maintain his alliance with France; any
suspicion, therefore, of a connection between Louis and the
popular party would have rendered him more and more dependent;
till the liberties of England might at last have been set up to
auction at Versailles."[204]

This is impartial. But surely an imprudence so extremely dangerous, and an intercourse on any terms with an envoy's agent, the nature of which it must have been necessary to conceal, partook of a disingenuousness and selfwill that cannot be held innocent. That Lord Russell had the best intentions is granted; but his principles were specially opposed by the doctrine of "doing evil, that good might come;" and if it be argued that good men are sometimes defeated in their intentions by not imitating the less scrupulous conduct of evil ones, it is to be replied, that there is no end of the re-actions consequent on such imitations, nor any bounds, on the other hand, to be put to the good consequences of a perfect example, even should its very perfection retard them. Good causes are not lost for want of passion and energy, but for that defect of faith and openness, which is the worst destroyer of both, and the loss of which is the worst hazard produced by a defect of example. We should be surprised that the patriots, while they were about it, did not denounce Charles's anti-constitutional behaviour more than they did, and openly demand their rights as a matter of course; but it is easy to account for it upon the supposition that they were hampered with court connections, and not sure of one another.