his notions of foreign policy were. He could not have believed, he said, that France would have been able to weather out the war so well as she had done,-that in case that kingdom had been humbled, “England might well have been satisfied with having been an unconcerned looker on, whilst she engrossed all the commerce of Europe, and might, in the end, have reaped an equal share of advantage with even the labourers themselves, who had been at all the pains and expense." Charles is acknowledged by Burnet, who was not likely to give him credit for aught he did not possess, to have known the interests of England, and understood foreign affairs well. We cannot therefore imagine he was duped by his own reasoning, or that he entertained any sincere conviction of the truth of the argument he used. Could England have, indeed, stood aloof from all foreign connexions, such, no doubt, would have been her true policy; and even inextricably interwoven as her interests have, at different times, unfortunately become with one or other of the European states, it is not every quarrel that may arise on the continent that should be deemed sufficient ground for draining her blood and treasure. But, at this particular period, when the balance of power, so necessary for her security, was on the point of being for ever lost, and Louis XIV. making rapid strides to universal dominion, such temporizing policy as that recommended by Charles, was merely playing into his hands, and affording if not open at least equally effectual co-operation. "I saw," says Sir John Reresby, "a copy of the letter"-meaning one that had been sent over by Louis, on occasion of some victory obtained over the Prince of Orange-“ beginning with this style or title,-Tres haut, tres excellent & tres puissant Prince, tres cher, tres aimébon Frère, Cousin, & Allié-and in truth," he remarks, "our king's neutrality deserved all this from France, and much more."

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From this period we hear of no further political scruples on the part of Sir John, or of any disposition to relapse into a too popular way of thinking. Indeed, during the following sessions of parliament, in which the country leaders, partaking of the universal mania, prosecuted with such unaccountable vehemence the unhappy victims of a vile imposture, the duty of a member of parliament became one of much more than ordinary difficulty; whilst the ensuing debates on the exclusion bill, it must be confessed, were such, as not only to alarm the prejudices of a confirmed Tory, but even to startle the understanding of all, but men of the clearest views and strongest minds. "Nobody can conceive," says Sir John, "that was not a witness hereof, what a ferment this raised among all ranks and degrees;" and though a great deal of what was advanced "bore the face of improbability, yet such was the torrent of

the times, that no doubt was to be made of all that was heard." Even those, whom we cannot for a moment suppose to have been deluded by the gross fabrications of the witnesses, are subject, on that very account, to yet stronger animadversion, from the tortuous and even wicked policy they appear to have pursued. Among these, Lord Halifax, a man of the most subtle and piercing intellect, not even excepting his uncle, Shaftesbury, of any in that age of lively and pregnant wits, drew down upon himself the honest ire of Sir William Temple, by affirming that the " plot must be handled as if it were true, whether it were so or not, in those points that were so generally believed by city and country as well as the two houses"

"Some truth there was, but dash'd and brew'd with lies.”

Even this we think is acknowledging too much; at all events there is much less "folly" in believing "nothing" than believing "all." The fears very generally entertained through the nation of a disposition in the court inimical to the established religion were, doubtless, sufficiently well grounded; and to these alone did the plot, which else would have died prematurely, owe its rapid and monstrous growth. But in any other circumstance of the whole business there does not appear to have existed a grain of truth. Of a very different opinion, however, was the parliament of that day. First, says Sir John, the "commons fell upon my lord treasurer, for keeping the plot so long in the dark-seeing that the king might have been made away with in the mean time" next they proceeded to the examination of witnesses, who came in plentifully-then they granted an indemnity to all who would make any discovery, though ever so deeply and blackly engaged themselves, and not only indemnity but subsistence into the bargain,-and finally they came to the resolution, that upon the evidence before them, it was plain there was a hellish and damnable design to assassinate and murder the king, and to subvert the religion and government as by law established."

"Some thought they god's anointed meant to slay

By guns invented since full many a day."

The most awful delirium, to be sure, was this, by which it has ever been the ill fate of any country to be agitated; and, if we except the mysterious affair of the Mercuries at Athens, unparalleled for atrocity and madness, by aught that the history of any other people can produce. Indeed, between the two impostures-for that the Athenian affair was a fabrication no less than our own can hardly be doubted there are many points of striking resemblance, with this single difference in

their origin, that whilst the first was, most probably, an invention of some political leaders, the latter, beyond a doubt, sprung up among the dregs and refuse of society, and was only adopted by abler men, when it had grown and expanded amid the preposterous fears of the nation. At Athens, as in our own country, there had been continually floating about among the people certain jealous fears, more or less well founded, derived from the memory of a former tyranny, of a disposition somewhere latent in the state adverse to the democracy "by law established." When, therefore, after many previous rumours of plots and conspiracies, whether the act had been perpetrated by some young men, in a drunken frolic, or, more probably, by the contrivance of a few factious politicians, all the statues of the god Mercury, standing in various places up and down the streets of Athens, were, in one night, defaced and mutilated, and from the same intimate connexion between the religion and law of the land, which subsists in our own constitution, the popular suspicion was instantly alarmed, and the safety of the state, no less than of the hierarchy, apprehended to be in danger. In the history of the transactions which ensued, we may discern the prototype of those monstrous proceedings, that followed the first announcement of a popish plot. Witnesses were forthwith sought with diligence-heard with eager attention-believed without examination; and on the testimony of some men of abandoned character many of the best and most reputable citizens were thrown into prison; it being deemed more adviseable that men, though innocent and upright, should suffer, than that the truth of the plot, to be extorted from them, if necessary, even by torture, should fail to be ascertained.* At length, when the commissioners, who had been appointed to investigate this mysterious affair, reported to the assembled people, that there was a "hellish and damnable design" abroad, to subvert the religion and government of the state, such was the terror this communication excited, that the imperial demus itself forsook its own agora and fled. The longer it raged, more furious grew the delirium-the people waxed every day more savage in their terror-numbers were taken up-the prisons were crowded and yet more still continued to be sought. At length a certain one among the persons apprehended, who appeared particularly obnoxious to suspicion, was prevailed upon by some of his fellow prisoners to accuse, whether false or true, somebody or other, in order to secure himself and friends from the jealous rage of the people, by giving it a vent, and directing upon the heads of others. The people received the informa

it

Thucyd. vi. 53.

tion with insane and brutal joy-the informer was set at liberty with all, whom he had not denounced-the accused were put instantly upon their trial, condemned, and executed. The blood of the best and noblest in Athens flowed freely; and the city having thus, as it were, breathed a vein, the fever abated-the passions of the people cooled-the judgement resumed its seat and office-and men began to wonder at the delirium into which they had been betrayed.

As in its origin, so in the conclusion, the oligarchal.conspiracy at Athens, for such was it considered to have been, differed widely from the popish plot in England. The Shaftesbury of his age and country, who had hitherto steered successfully amid the conflicting factions of the state, instead of being the "arch-demon" who bestrode the tempest, was himself wrecked in the storm,-and, by a long train of remote consequences, involved in his fall that of the imperial democracy itself. Our own constitution, framed of more durable materials than the Athenian, weathered the storm of protestant fury; and the popish plot, destructive only to its victims, and a few of its managers, has left behind, among many other similar warnings, an awful but salutary memorial of the danger of spreading religious delusion among a devotional and deeply feeling people-affording us additional reason to thank God for the increasing light of the present age, which makes it less easy for designing men to practise upon the superstition of the vulgar. One other distinction, honourable to the nation, however grievously sinning, exists between our own plot and the one with which we have compared it; and this was owing neither to the temper of parliament nor the conduct of government, but solely to the spirit of the people. It has lately been remarked by a writer, whose works will distinguish the present age of our country more memorably than any thing else that has been done, said, or written in it, by any man or any set of men, that the English people, though clamorous in the pursuit of vengeance, yet, like the sleuth hound, desist from the chace, as soon as blood is sprinkled on their path.* And so it happened on the present occasion: the appetite for vengeance was quickly sated; and after the execution of the aged and venerable Lord Stafford, the Roman catholic plot lingered and died away. It was the deepest solemnity," says Sir John Reresby, speaking of that nobleman's trial, "I have ever seen-and great were the expectations of the issue." He had been selected for impeachment, as being supposed less able to defend himself than any of the other lords in the Tower; but "he deceived the managers so far, as to plead his cause to a miracle."

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* Peveril of the Peak.

a

"The three chief evidences against him were Dr. Oates, Dugdale, and Tuberville: the first swore, that his lordship had brought him a commission signed by the pope, to be paymaster of the army to be raised against the king; the second, that he had offered him five hundred pounds to kill the king; and the third, that he had offered him reward for the dreadful deed, but at a different time. And so positive seemingly were they in this and other dangerous evidence, that I, who sat and heard most of the trial, had not known what to think, had the witnesses been but men of any the least credit. But such were the incoherences, and indeed contradictions, which seemed to me to arise towards the latter end, that considering them, and the very evil name of the people that swore against this lord, I was fully satisfied that all was untruth they laid to his charge: but the poor gentleman was condemned by a majority of twenty-two. He heard his accusers, and defended himself with great steadiness and resolution, and received his sentence with great courage and composure; nor did he stoop beneath the weight of his doom, till he submitted his head to the block, with his last breath protesting his innocence, and the cruel wrong he suffered."

"The king," adds Sir John, "who heard all the trial, was extremely concerned at the rigour and abruptness of his fate." He disbelieved too, it is supposed, the whole of the plot,-why, then, did he allow the glorious prerogative of mercy to be idle in his hands? It is said he dared not exercise it-he dared do, however, or, at least, attempt things much more dangerous and equivocal. The patient and manly demeanour of this unfortunate nobleman on the scaffold seems to have excited the pity, and awakened the late repentance of the people. His protestations of innocence were answered by broken exclamations from the assembled multitude-" God bless you, my lord; we believe you." Of this, the most illustrious victim to the fanatical delusions of the time, we were lately unexpectedly reminded, by reading in the public papers of a new claimant to the dormant title of Stafford; and it was with some surprise and considerable regret we found that the attainder so iniquitously passed against its last possessor, had never, during so many ages of better feeling and juster sentiments, been reversed. When, however, we reflect how long the illiberal prejudices against the catholic sect, derived, in great measure, from the very imposture of which we have been speaking, were allowed to influence the counsels of the nation, perhaps we should be justified in attributing this omission to some other cause than simple neglect. For, to use the words of the author above alluded to, when, divested of his masquerade habiliments, he is officiating in the humbler duty of a commentator-" after this last victim, the popish plot, like a serpent, which had wasted. its poison, though its wreaths entangled many, and its terrors held their sway over more, did little effectual mischief. Even