The Strange Death of Edmund Godfrey Read online

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Last Days of Edmund Godfrey

  Nothing is more common, than to have two men tell the same story quite differently one from another, yet both of them Eye-Witnesses to the fact related.

  Daniel Defoe, Serious Reflections during the life and surprising adventures of Robinson Crusoe: with his vision of the angelick world (1720)

  I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the course

  William Shakespeare, King Lear

  SEPTEMBER 1678: THE PLOT IN THE BALANCE

  After Sir Joseph Williamson’s refusal on 5 September Israel Tonge went alone to Edmund Godfrey’s house on the same day and told Godfrey that he wished to have some information sworn, but at this point he was reluctant to say what it concerned.1 Naturally the magistrate was equally reluctant to take such an obscure matter any further; being ever sensitive to the legal nature of such transactions, he expressed his caution before committing himself. A desperate Tonge then persuaded Godfrey at least to visit the ‘honourable friends’ and confer with them. This meeting then took place, although we do not know where, nor who these ‘honourable friends’ actually were. In the event Edmund Godfrey was sufficiently persuaded to agree to meet with the informants the next day. On 6 September, Tonge returned to Godfrey’s home in the company of Oates and Kirkby; Oates and Godfrey met for the first time. It is not clear what the magistrate thought of Oates, but the interview itself did not go well. Godfrey again expressed his reluctance to take any depositions without knowing their contents, and, according to Tonge’s version, he also asked the men to go elsewhere. Given Godfrey’s officiousness in similar dealings this seems unlikely, although it is possible that having now seen the trio in person his disquiet with the affair had grown. Tonge claimed that he knew no one else to whom he could turn and the matter was a weighty one. He also said that Godfrey had come highly recommended. More significantly, Tonge now admitted that the matter at hand was one of high treason and that the king himself already had a copy of the depositions. Indeed, so serious was the matter that His Majesty had thought fit thus far to entrust it to only one member of his Privy Council. He mentioned no names but it must have been obvious that he meant Danby. Godfrey persisted in his inquiries as to the nature of the information, this being his right as a magistrate. It was ‘fireing houses & towns’ said Tonge. Godfrey then knew that the matter could be a serious one and as an experienced magistrate it may also have crossed his mind that even such outlandish folk might have some genuine information.

  He therefore now began to question Oates about the matter. Oates told Godfrey that it concerned a fire in Southwark, which, he said, had been started by the Catholic priest John Grove. Godfrey may well have frowned a little at this for he not only knew John Grove personally but was also aware that he had been very active in stopping the fire even to the extent of losing his own property.2 Nevertheless he still allowed Oates to swear to the papers and he even underwrote them. Tonge also swore on oath that the matter was known to the king. In spite of this the men would not leave any of the documents with the magistrate. It is very unlikely, however, that Godfrey would not have insisted on reading at least some of the documents. Thus far he had kept to his duty and he was well aware of the law on misprision of treason. Any failure to inform the proper authorities of treasonable matters could land not only Oates and Tonge, but also himself, in grave trouble. Indeed one source claimed that not only did Godfrey read the papers but he also made notes from them.3 If he did, it was likely that Godfrey merely considered the documents wild and exaggerated nonsense. Oates had already been caught out about Grove, and Godfrey may well have decided to drop a hint to some of his Catholic acquaintances about these eccentric individuals and their claims. Oates’s version of this interview was a typically crude one. In a later idle bar-room moment he claimed that Godfrey was such ‘a Cowardly rascal, for when I went with my depositions to him, he was so frighted that I believe he beshit himself, for there was such a stink I could hardly stay in the room’.4

  In fact, the very next day after seeing Godfrey Oates was to show his own particular form of bravery by hurriedly leaving his lodgings in Cockpit Alley, claiming that the Jesuits were after him and that one of them, a man named Stratford, had beaten him. In reality Stratford, a drunken neighbour, had been beating his wife and Oates had intervened, complaining about the noise rather than the action itself, so the man had fallen on Oates instead. The ‘saviour of the nation’ swiftly retreated to lodge with Tonge at the Flying Horse tavern, where he gave his credulous partner a more suitably heroic version of the affair. Next Oates claimed that the Flying Horse itself was being watched, so the pair agreed to repair to Kirkby’s home in Vauxhall for greater security.5 Over the next week or so, as Kirkby and Tonge attempted to kick start their plot by loitering around Danby’s home in the hope of a conversation with him, Oates, to while away the time, began to put his depositions in order. He later claimed that he felt more fearful than ever, now that his name would be well known to Catholics as Godfrey must have told them of the plot.

  In fact, sometime between taking the depositions and the next time he was to meet Oates and Tonge, Edmund Godfrey had acquainted his Catholic friend Edward Coleman with the details of what had been revealed to him. One commentator noted that this was his usual ‘custome, keeping faire with both sides’.6 Indeed he had apparently ‘wished him [Coleman] to wait upon the Duke of York’ and to know whether the duke had heard anything of the affair.7 It is entirely possible that Godfrey had also warned his other Catholic friends about the plot. In any event at this meeting, which seems to have taken place at Colonel George Weldon’s tavern in York Buildings, Godfrey apparently advised Coleman if he knew anything to ‘impeach, which it is sayd hee did, and swore something before Godfrey which hee entered into a pocket booke’.8 Whatever the truth of this, Coleman certainly informed James, Duke of York, of the design. The duke was soon insisting that the whole plot should go before the Privy Council together with the fraudulent letters sent to his confessor, Bedingfield. So, thanks to Godfrey’s meddling, Danby’s plan to keep the whole plot a close secret until it could be revealed in such a way that would benefit him had been spoiled. Worse still, Godfrey had influenced the constant rivalry in court affairs between the Duke of York and Danby by giving the former this advantage, damaging Danby’s own credibility at court in the process.

  Danby knew Godfrey well, of course, although, according to Gilbert Burnet, the two disliked one another. It is entirely possible that one of Danby’s own servants had been one of the ‘honourable friends’ who had recommended Godfrey to Tonge. Indeed, Danby’s servant, the ubiquitous Lloyd, seems a likely candidate in this respect, for the latter had been dealing with Tonge on an almost daily basis, mostly by blocking Tonge’s access to his master. Equally there seems little doubt that at some stage either Danby summoned Godfrey or the magistrate paid him a visit of his own volition. At that meeting Danby appears to have railed against the hapless Godfrey for his part in the affair. The magistrate, given what we know of his previous reactions to authority and his staunch belief in the rule of law, is unlikely to have taken these complaints calmly. There may well have been an argument, with Godfrey defending his rights and Danby furious at being thwarted. Only afterwards would the magistrate have realised that the Lord Treasurer was not someone to be taken lightly. It was undoubtedly Danby to whom Godfrey referred when he met one acquaintance, Mr Mulys, in St James’s Park, and was asked by him about the plot, rumours of which were by now in general circulation. Godfrey replied ‘what was common Discourse of the Town – But I must not talk too much . . . for I lye under ill circumstances: Some Great Men blame me for not having done my Duty, and I am threatened by others, and very great Ones too, for having done too much.’9 He was also alleged to have said to another acquaintance ‘I shall have little thanks for my pains . . . I did it very unwillingly and would have fain have [had] it done by others.’10 It appears that Godfrey believed that his action or inactio
n had already stirred up trouble. We must consider that Godfrey had met a trio of men by this time who had told him of a popish plot and he had begun to obscure the evidence, or had at least decided not to pursue the matter as vigorously and publicly as he should have done. Godfrey was thus beginning to flirt with the crime of misprision of treason, and over the next few weeks his dealings with Oates and most of all with Edward Coleman were to lead him on to still more dangerous ground.11

  Over the next week or so Tonge and Kirkby made a number of further excursions to see either Danby or his crony the Bishop of London. On 19 September Tonge managed to see Danby, who asked him about Oates, whose name the Lord Treasurer now knew. He wanted to know whether he was a Yorkshire man and in any way related to the Oates who had been involved in the Yorkshire plot of 1663.12 Otherwise he had little to say. Tonge then approached the Bishop of London to act on his behalf, but this appeal also fell on stony ground; the bishop mouthed platitudes and little else. An approach by Tonge to the ever-busy cleric Gilbert Burnet was also made around this time.13 Burnet had previously known Tonge as a man who was ever ‘full of projects and notions’ and he at least was amazed by what he heard. Indeed, Burnet decided to make his own inquiries through the secretary of state’s office, which claimed it knew of Tonge’s discoveries. The officials there also thought that Tonge was merely inventing stories in order ‘to get himself . . . made a dean’.14 After this Burnet was to claim that he saw no reason not to discuss the business with others and did so. His cynical acquaintances saw it as ‘design of Danby’s to be laid before the next session [of parliament to] . . . put an end to all jealousies of the King, now the papists were conspiring against his life’.15 George Savile, Marquis of Halifax, even told Burnet that he thought the discovery, whether true or false, would soon get out of the court’s control and it was dangerous for that reason.

  On 27 September, however, a summons finally came from the Privy Council.16 Tonge and Kirkby rushed to attend but arrived too late. They were now ordered to attend the next day. One would have thought that this might have satisfied the informers, because this meant they were due to appear before the highest in the land. Yet a combination of factors once more led them to the door of Edmund Godfrey. Tonge appears to have been fearful that Oates might slip away again, or worse still that the dangerous Jesuits would remove him from the scene. Indeed, he seems to have thought that with the ‘Jesuit assassins’ lurking in every doorway, according to Oates at least, this might well be a distinct possibility. Something must be done to make the plot more public, lest the Privy Council stifle the information, as the Lord Treasurer had apparently done. Faced with this possibility, Tonge decided that they must revisit the magistrate whom they had previously visited on 6 September.17 So on 27 September they returned to Edmund Godfrey’s house, and there Oates swore before the magistrate two copies of his information. Faced with something in the region of eighty-one articles of fact, Godfrey signed both copies and the whole was witnessed by Tonge and Kirkby. This time Edmund Godfrey also insisted on retaining one copy for himself. Tonge reluctantly agreed and after this he and Kirkby left to go to the Privy Council meeting.

  What was in these depositions? In their various forms the documents detailed clause by clause a number of attempts to murder King Charles II and the comings and goings by Oates and his Catholic acquaintances associated with the plot.18 In a laborious fashion the depositions related tales of Scottish, English and Irish rebellions and a Europe-wide conspiracy that were guaranteed to warm the hearts of any rabid anti-Catholic. In his version of events Oates said he had seen numerous letters detailing the plot and had been informed at various times of most of its crucial details by rather loquacious, or plainly stupid, Roman Catholics: Charles II and perhaps his brother James, Duke of York, (unless as a Catholic he agreed to the plot) were targeted for assassination by bullet or poison. Oates also claimed to have seen other letters detailing the actions of the bungling Honest or Trusty William, an alias of John Grove, and Thomas Pickering, the would-be assassins. The pair were supposed to have made several farcical attempts to shoot the king, only to be foiled by poor guns and failing flints. There were hints of large sums of money to finance and sustain the plot, ranging from £10,000 to £15,000. A number of letters to Father La Chaise, conveyed by Oates to France, which detailed the extirpation of Protestantism in England and the stirring up of the Presbyterians to rebellion in Scotland, were also noted alongside derogatory references to Charles II and his father Charles I – these references implied that one or the other had been illegitimate. (In fact, this was an old canard common enough among the defeated Republicans of the early 1660s.)

  Most of Oates’s claims could easily have been taken from the published accounts of the real or imagined Republican plots of the 1660s.19 Hints of the gathering of armies, secret commissions, rumours of bribes and the encouragement of rebellion among English Catholics were all familiar fare to anyone well versed in this earlier plot mania. By far the most significant aspect of the depositions lay in the tale of a general and secret meeting of the Jesuits held at the White Horse tavern in London in April 1678; Oates claimed that matters of treason were discussed and that he was an actual observer of these dealings. Oates went on to spice his tale with his supposed knowledge of the botched firing of London in 1666 and Southwark in 1676. He also added more material about Edward Coleman giving away state secrets, further attempts to kill Charles II and information against some of his old acquaintances from the club in Fuller’s Rents and elsewhere.20

  Why had the informers once more returned to Godfrey, the man whom they already knew was reluctant to have anything to do with them and whom they believed had told the authorities Oates’s name? In retrospect (because we know that Godfrey was shortly to die) their action could be seen in a sinister light, but their motivation is unlikely to have been anything more than the fact that they still lacked any real contacts who could have been more helpful to them at this stage. They had been rebuffed by the most obvious contact in such matters – the secretary of state’s office – and Godfrey was perhaps their last chance. The magistrate, however, must have greeted them with some dismay. Although he still strove to commit himself no further than any justice should have done, he was obviously left vulnerable and troubled. He was now in possession of what he believed was a grave, secret design against the monarchy. What was he to do with it? One would have thought that the obvious answer would have been for him to pass his information on to a higher authority, but Godfrey appears to have made a series of major misjudgments at this point that are redolent of his troubled personality. Instead of following Tonge and Kirkby straight to the meeting of the Privy Council, he seems to have turned once more to Edward Coleman for advice. The two men discussed the problem of the informers and Godfrey seems to have shown Coleman the papers he had acquired. At some point these papers were handed over to Lord Chief Justice Scroggs and he eventually sent them to the Privy Council, but the magistrate still remained troubled by the whole business.21

  THE PRIVY COUNCIL: 28–29 SEPTEMBER 1678

  The meeting of the committee of the Privy Council 28–29 September at which Tonge and Oates were to be interrogated was to be of vital importance in forwarding the plot.22 The king himself introduced the affair in the first morning session, where he related how Kirkby and Tonge had approached him and that he had passed the affair on to Danby. The Bedingfield letters were then produced and examined by the wary ministers, who ‘by the ill spellings of names; and other suspicious marks, thought [them] to be counterfeit matter’.23 At which point Tonge was called in and proved to be singularly unhelpful. Charles asked him who Oates was and Tonge revealed that he and Oates had been before Edmund Godfrey to have the deposition sworn. It seems that Sir Joseph Williamson at this point made the logical suggestion that Godfrey himself should be summoned; however, nothing was done on that score. It may be that a still annoyed Danby blocked the suggestion, or perhaps the ministers thought the affair so unconvincing as not t
o be worthy of such serious consideration. Instead they adjourned for the morning. In the afternoon the Duke of York came before the committee to explain his part in the affair and the ‘ill contrivences’ of the letters. He then left. The committee finally called in Titus Oates and asked him to justify this strange affair. Now for the first time the main informer had an audience of the great and good to impress. He was not to waste his chance.

  Where the committee members had smiled a little at the eccentric Tonge, they sat up and took notice of the booming voice of Oates.24 Without the king or the Duke of York in their midst to control proceedings, they proceeded to listen to Oates as he effortlessly related his tale without any reference to the papers before them. Oates introduced himself as a clergyman who had once possessed a small parsonage near Sittingbourne, and who had subsequently been a chaplain at sea and in the ‘Dutch fights’, latterly on a voyage with Sir Richard Routh. After hearing of the many schemes of the Catholics, he had decided to penetrate their meetings. Once more Oates portrayed himself as the shrewd man of action who had determined, at some personal risk, to infiltrate Catholic designs, whatever the cost. He claimed he had decided to pretend to convert, and eventually he became trusted enough to be employed as a message carrier. He had been paid to take a packet of letters from Richard Strange and others to Madrid on behalf of the Jesuits. On reaching Burgos, however, he claimed that he had unsealed the letters and read the contents. At that point he related much of what had now been entered into the deposition that Godfrey had seen: trouble in Scotland and in Ireland, money and men supplied to provide for the attack, the planning for the death of the king. He also revealed that a number of meetings had been held about these matters in London itself. Oates was able to supply places and dates for these, as well as the names of those in attendance. He claimed that in Spain he had been swiftly taken into the confidence of the Jesuits and that on his return to London he had been sent to St Omers where he learned still more of the plot. Seizing the chance to return to London when it was revealed that the Jesuits had planned to kill off old Dr Tonge because of his writings, Oates had offered to poison Tonge for £50 (though he had in fact revealed the scheme to Tonge, he said).