The Valet's Tragedy, and Other Studies

Wynell: ‘If so, where are we then?’

Godfrey: ‘Oates is sworn and is perjured.’

* * *

‘Upon Wynell’s asking Sir Edmund some time why he was so melancholy, his answer has been, “he was melancholy because he was master of a dangerous secret that would be fatal to him, THAT HIS SECURITY WAS OATE’S DEPOSITION, THAT THE SAID OATES HAD FIRST DECLARED IT TO A PUBLIC MINISTER, AND SECONDLY THAT HE CAME TO SIR EDMUND BY HIS (the Minister’s) DIRECTION.” **

*Pollock, p. 152.

**L’Estrange, part iii. p. 187.

We must accept all of Mr. Wynell’s statement or none; we cannot accept, like Mr. Pollock, only Godfrey’s confession of owning a dangerous secret, without Godfrey’s explanation of the nature of the danger. Against THAT danger (his knowing and taking no action upon what Oates had deposed) Godfrey’s ‘security’ was Oates’s other deposition, that his information was already in the Minister’s hands, and that he had come to Godfrey by the Minister’s orders. The invidiousness of knowing and not acting on Oates’s ‘dangerous secret,’ Godfrey hoped, fell on the Minister rather than on himself. And it did fall on Danby, who was later accused of treason on this very ground, among others. Such is Wynell’s evidence, true or false. C’est a prendre ou a laisser in bulk, and in bulk is of no value to Mr. Pollock’s argument.

That Godfrey was in great fear after taking Oates’s deposition, and dealing with Coleman, is abundantly attested. But of what was he afraid, and of whom? L’Estrange says, of being made actual party to the plot, and not of ‘bare misprision’ only, the misprision of not acting on Oates’s information.* It is to prove this point that L’Estrange cites Wynell as quoted above. Bishop Burnet reports that, to him, Godfrey said ‘that he believed he himself should be knocked on the head.‘** Knocked on the head by whom? By a frightened Protestant mob, or by Catholic conspirators? To Mr. Robinson, an old friend, he said, ‘I do not fear them if they come fairly, and I shall not part with my life tamely.’ Qu’ils viennent! as Tartarin said, but who are ‘they’? Godfrey said that he had ‘taken the depositions very unwillingly, and would fain have had it done by others… I think I shall have little thanks for my pains… Upon my conscience I believe I shall be the first martyr.‘*** He could not expect thanks from the Catholics: it was from the frenzied Protestants that he expected ‘little thanks.’

*L’Estrange, iii. p. 187.

**Burnet, ii. p. 740.

***State Trials, vii. pp. 168, 169.

Oates swore, and, for once, is corroborated, that Godfrey complained ‘of receiving affronts from some great persons (whose names I name not now) for being so zealous in this business.’ If Oates, by ‘great persons,’ means the Duke of York, it was in the Duke’s own cause that Godfrey had been ‘zealous,’ sending him warning by Coleman. Oates added that others threatened to complain to Parliament, which was to meet on October 21, that Godfrey had been ‘too remiss.’ Oates was a liar, but Godfrey, in any case, was between the Devil and the deep sea. As early as October 24, Mr. Mulys attested, before the Lords, Godfrey’s remark, ‘he had been blamed by some great men for not having done his duty, and by other great men for having done too much.’ Mulys corroborates Oates.* If Godfrey knew a secret dangerous to the Jesuits (which, later, was a current theory), he might be by them silenced for ever. If his conduct, being complained of, was examined into by Parliament, misprision of treason was the lowest at which his offence could be rated. Never was magistrate in such a quandary. But we do not know, in the state of the evidence, which of his many perils he feared most, and his possession of ‘a dangerous secret’ (namely, the secret of the consult of April 24) is a pure hypothesis. It is not warranted, but refuted, by Godfrey’s own words as reported by Wynell, when, unlike Mr. Pollock, we quote Wynell’s whole sentence on the subject. (see previous exchange between Godfrey and Wynell.)

*Lords’ MSS., P. 48.

3

The theories of Godfrey’s death almost defy enumeration. For suicide, being a man of melancholic temperament, he had reasons as many and as good as mortal could desire. That he was murdered for not being active enough in prosecuting the plot, is most improbable. That he was taken off by Danby’s orders, for giving Coleman and the Duke of York early warning, is an absurd idea, for Danby could have had him on THAT score by ordinary process of law. That he was slain by Oates’s gang, merely to clinch the fact that a plot there veritably was, is improbable. At the same time, Godfrey had been calling Oates a perjurer: he KNEW that Oates was forsworn. This was an unsafe thing for any man to say, but when the man was the magistrate who had read Oates’s deposition, he invited danger. Such were the chances that Godfrey risked from the Plot party. The Catholics, on the other hand, if they were aware that Godfrey possessed the secret of the Jesuit meeting of April 24, and if they deemed him too foolish to keep the secret in his own interest, could not but perceive that to murder him was to play into the hands of the Whigs by clinching the belief in a Popish plot. Had they been the murderers, they would probably have taken his money and rings, to give the idea that he had been attacked and robbed by vulgar villains. If they ‘were not the damnedest fools’ (thus freely speaks L’Estrange), they would not have taken deliberate steps to secure the instant discovery of the corpse. Whoever pitched Godfrey’s body into the bramble-covered ditch, meant it to be found, for his cane, scabbard, and so on were deliberately left outside of the ditch. Your wily Jesuit would have caused the body to disappear, leaving the impression that Godfrey had merely absconded, as he had the best reasons for doing. On the other hand, Oates’s gang would not, if they first strangled Godfrey, have run his own sword through his body, as if he had committed suicide – unless, indeed, they calculated that this would be a likely step for your wily Jesuit to take, in the circumstances. Again, an educated ‘Jesuit,’ like Le Fevre, ‘the Queen’s confessor,’ would know that the sword trick was futile; even a plain man, let alone a surgeon, could detect a wound inflicted on a corpse four or five days old.

Two other theories existed, first, that Godfrey hanged himself, and that his brothers and heirs did the sword trick, to suggest that he had not committed suicide by strangulation, but had been set on and stabbed with his own sword. In that case, of course, the brothers would have removed his rings and money, to prove that he had been robbed. The other theory, plausible enough, held that Godfrey was killed by Catholics, NOT because he took Oates’s deposition (which he was bound to do), but because he officiously examined a number of persons to make discoveries. The Attorney-General at the trial of Godfrey’s alleged murderers (February 1679), declared that Sir Edmund had taken such examinations: ‘we have proof that he had some… perhaps some more than are now extant’ * This theory, then, held that he was taken off to prevent his pursuing his zealous course, and to seize the depositions which he had already taken. When this was stated to Charles II., on November 7, 1678, by the perjured Bedloe, the King naturally remarked: ‘The parties were still alive’ (the deponents) ‘to give the informations.’ Bedloe answered, that the papers were to be seized ‘in hopes the second informations taken from the parties would not have agreed with the first, and so the thing would have been disproved.‘** This was monstrously absurd, for the slayers of Godfrey could not have produced the documents of which they had robbed him.

*State Trials, vii. p. 163.

**Pollock, p. 385.

The theory that Sir Edmund was killed because Coleman had told him too many secrets did not come to general knowledge till the trial of Lord Stafford in 1680. The hypothesis – Godfrey slain because, through Coleman, he knew too many Catholic secrets – is practically that of Mr. Pollock. It certainly does supply a motive for Godfrey’s assassination. Hot-headed Catholics who knew, or suspected, that Godfrey knew too much, MAY have killed him for that reason, or for the purpose of seizing his papers, but it is improbable that Catholics of education, well aware that, if he blabbed, Godfrey must ruin himself, would have put their hands into his blood, on the mere chance that, if left alive, he might betray both himself and them.

4

It is now necessary to turn backward a little and see what occurred immediately after the meeting of Coleman and Godfrey on September 28. On that day, Oates gave his lying evidence before the Council: he was allowed to go on a Jesuit drive, with warrants and officers; he caught several of the most important Jesuits. On September 29, the King heard his tale, and called him a ‘lying knave.’ None the less he was sent on another drive, and, says Mr. Pollock, ‘before dawn most the Jesuits of eminence in London lay in gaol.’ But Le Fevre, ‘the Queen’s confessor,’ and the other ‘Jesuits’ whom Mr. Pollock suspects of Godfrey’s murder, were not taken. Is it likely (it is, of course, possible) that they stayed on in town, and killed Godfrey twelve days later?

Meanwhile Coleman, thanks to Godfrey’s warning, had most of September 28, the night of that day, and September 29, wherein to burn his papers and abscond. He did neither; if he destroyed some papers, he left others in his rooms, letters which were quite good enough to hang him for high treason, as the law stood. Apparently Coleman did not understand his danger. On Sunday night, September 29, a warrant for his apprehension was issued, and for the seizure of his papers. ‘He came voluntarily in on Monday morning,’ having heard of the warrant. This is not the conduct of a man who knows himself guilty. He met the charges with disdain, and made so good a case that, instead of being sent to Newgate, he was merely entrusted to a messenger, who was told ‘to be very civil to Mr. Coleman.’

Charles II. went to the Newmarket Autumn Meeting, Coleman’s papers were examined, and ‘sounded so strange to the Lords’ that they sent him to Newgate (October 1). The papers proved that Coleman, years before, had corresponded (as Oates had sworn) with the confessor of Louis XIV. and had incurred the technical guilt of treason. Either Coleman did not understand the law and the measure of his offence (as seems probable), or he thought his papers safely hidden. But the heather was on fire. The belief in Oates’s impossible Plot blazed up, ‘hell was let loose’.*

*State Trials, vii. p. 29.

Coleman had thought himself safe, says James II., then Duke of York. ‘The Duke perceiving’ (from Godfrey’s information of September 28) ‘Oates had named Coleman, bade him look to himself, for he was sure to find no favour, and therefore, if he had any papers that might hurt him, to secure them immediately; but he, apprehending no danger, let them be seized, however kept close himself, and sent to advise with the Duke whether he should deliver himself up or not. The Duke replyd, “He knew best what was in his papers; if they contain’d any expression which could be wrested to an ill sence, he had best not appear, otherwise the surrendering himself would be an argument of innocency.” He did accordingly,’ and was condemned in November, and hanged.*

*Life of James II., i. p. 534.

King James’s tale agrees with the facts of Coleman’s surrender. ‘He came in voluntarily.’ He did not appreciate the resources of civilisation at the service of the English law of treason: he had dabbled in intrigue without taking counsel’s advice, and knowing for certain that Oates was an inconsistent liar, Coleman took his chance with a light heart. However, not only did some of his letters bring him (though he could not understand the fact) within the elastic law of treason; but Oates’s evidence was accepted when conspicuously false; Coleman was not allowed to produce his diary and prove an alibi as to one of Oates’s accusations, and a new witness, Bedloe, a perjurer who rivalled Oates, had sprung up out of the filth of London streets. So Coleman swung for it, as Godfrey, according to Wynell, had prophesied that he would.

Coleman’s imprisonment began twelve days before Godfrey’s disappearance. At Coleman’s trial, late in November, a mere guess was given that Godfrey was slain to prevent him (a Protestant martyr) from blabbing Catholic secrets. This cause of Godfrey’s taking off was not alleged by Bedloe. This man, a notorious cosmopolitan rogue, who had swindled his way through France and Spain, was first heard of in the Godfrey case at the end of October. He wrote to the Secretaries of State from Bristol (L’Estrange says from Newbury on his way to Bristol), offering information, as pardon and reward had been promised to contrite accomplices in the murder. He came to town, and, on November 7, gave evidence before the King. Bedloe gave himself out as a Jesuit agent; concerning the Plot he added monstrous inventions to those of Oates.

‘As to Sir Edmund Godfrey; was promised 2,000 guineas to be in it by Le Fere’ (Le Fevre, ‘the Queen’s confessor),’ [by] ‘my Lord Bellasis gentleman, AND THE YOUNGEST OF THE WAITERS IN THE QUEENE’S CHAPEL, IN A PURPLE GOWN, and to keep the people orderly.‘*

*See Pollock, pp. 384, 387. The report is from Secretary Coventry’s MSS., at Longleat. The evidence as to Bedloe’s deposition before the King (November 7) is in a confused state. Mr. Pollock prints (pp. 383, 384, cf. p. 110) a document from ‘Brit. Mus. Addit. MS. 11058, f. 244.’

This is also given, with the same erroneous reference, by Mr. Foley, in Records of the English Province of the Society of Jesus, vol. v. p. 30, note. The right reference is 11055. The document is quite erroneously printed, with variations in error, by Mr. Foley and Mr. Pollock. Bedloe really said that Godfrey was lured into Somerset House Yard, not into ‘some house yard’ (Foley), or ‘into a house yard’ (Pollock). Bedloe, so far, agreed with Prance, but, in another set of notes on his deposition (Longleat MSS., Coventry Papers, xi. 272-274, Pollock, 384-387), he made Somerset House the scene of the murder. There are other errors. Mr.

Pollock and Mr. Foley make Bedloe accuse Father Eveley, S.J., in whom I naturally recognised Father Evers or Every, who was then at Tixall in Staffordshire. The name in the MS. is ‘Welch,’ not Eveley. The MS. was manifestly written not before September 12. It does not appear that Bedloe, on November 7, knew the plot as invented by Oates, on which compare Mr. Pollock, p. 110, who thinks that ‘it is quite possible that Charles II. deceived him,’ Bishop Burnet, ‘intentionally,’ on this head (Burnet, ii. 745-746, 1725). By printing ‘he acquainted’ instead of ‘he acquainteth the Lords,’ in the British Museum MS., and by taking the document, apparently, to be of November 7, Mr. Pollock has been led to an incorrect conclusion. I am obliged to Father Gerard, S.J., for a correct transcript of the British Museum MS.; see also Note iii., ‘The Jesuit Murderers,’ at the end of this chapter, and Father Gerard’s The Popish Plot and its Latest Historian (Longman’s, 1903).

Bedloe here asserts distinctly that one accomplice was an official of the Queen’s chapel, in her residence, Somerset House: a kind of verger, in a purple gown. This is highly important, for the man whom he later pretended to recognise as this accomplice was not a ‘waiter,’ did not ‘wear a purple gown;’ and, by his own account, ‘was not in the chapel once a month.’ Bedloe’s recognition of him, therefore, was worthless. He said that Godfrey was smothered with a pillow, or two pillows, in a room in Somerset House, for the purpose of securing ‘the examinations’ that Godfrey had taken. ‘Coleman and Lord Bellasis advised to destroy him.’ His informant was Le Fevre. One Walsh (a ‘Jesuit’), Le Fevre, Lord Bellasis’s man, and ‘the chapel keeper’ did the deed. The chapel keeper carried him’ (Godfrey) ‘off.’ ‘HE DID NOT SEE HIM’ (Godfrey) ‘AFTER HE WAS DEAD.’

On the following day Bedloe told his tale at the bar of the House of Lords. He now, contradicting himself, swore THAT HE SAW GODFREY’S DEAD BODY IN SOMERSET HOUSE. He was offered 2,000 guineas to help to carry him off. This was done by chairmen, ‘retainers to Somerset House,’ on Monday night (October 14).*

*Pollock, p. 387, Lords’ Journals, xiii. p. 343.

On that night, Bedloe saw Samuel Atkins, Mr. Pepys’s clerk, beside the corpse, by the light of a dark lantern. Atkins had an alibi, so Bedloe shuffled, and would not swear to him.

On November 14, before the Lords’ Committee, Bedloe again gave evidence. The 2,100 pounds were now 4,000 pounds offered to Bedloe, by Le Fevre, early in October, to kill a man. The attendant in the Queen’s chapel was at the scene (a pure figment) of the corpse exposed under the dark lantern. The motive of the murder was to seize Godfrey’s examinations, which he said he had sent to Whitehall. At a trial which followed in February 1679, Mr. Robinson, who had known Godfrey for some forty years, deposed that he had said to him, ‘I understand you have taken several examinations.’ ‘Truly,’ said he, ‘I have.’ ‘Pray, Sir, have you the examinations about you, will you please to let me see them?’ ‘No, I have them not, I delivered them to a person of quality.‘*

*State Trials, vii. 168.

This person of quality was not the Duke of York, for it may be noted that, on the day before his disappearance, Godfrey had, in fact, received back from the Lord Chief Justice the original copy of Oates’s depositions. This copy was found in his house, after his death, and handed over by his brother to the Government.* To get the examinations was always the motive of the murder, with Bedloe. The hour of Godfrey’s death was now 2 P.M.; now 3, or 4, or 5 P.M., on October 12. The body was hidden in various rooms of Somerset House, or under the high altar in the Queen’s Chapel. The discrepancies never affected the faith given to Bedloe.

*Lords’ MSS., Hist. MSS. Commission Report, xi. Appendix, part ii., pp. 2,3.

At the end of December came in a new accomplice-witness. This was an Irishman, Miles Prance, a silversmith, who had a business among Catholics, and worked for the Queen’s Chapel. Unlike all the other informers, Prance had hitherto been an ordinary fellow enough, with a wife and family, not a swindling debauchee. He was arrested on December 21, on information given by John Wren, a lodger of his, with whom he had quarrelled. Wren had noticed that Prance lay out of his own house while Godfrey was missing, which Prance admitted to be true.*

*Op. cit. p. 51. Prance both said, and denied, that he slept out while Sir Edmund was missing. He was flurried and self-contradictory.

Bedloe, passing through a room in the House of Commons, saw Prance in custody, and at once pretended to recognise in him the ‘chapel keeper,’ ‘under waiter,’ or ‘man in the purple gown,’ whom he had seen by the light of a dark lantern, beside Godfrey’s body, in a room of Somerset House, on October 14. ‘There was very little light’ on that occasion, Bedloe had said, and he finally refused, we saw, to swear to Atkins, who had an alibi. But, as to Prance, he said: ‘This is one of the rogues that I saw with a dark lantern about the body of Sir Edmund, but he was then in a periwig.‘* The periwig was introduced in case Prance had an alibi: Oates had used the same ‘hedge,’ ‘a periwig doth disguise a man very much,’ in Coleman’s case.**