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Royalty Restored or London under Charles II
Chapter XVIII
by Molloy, J. Fitzgerald
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Reward for the discovery of murderers.--Bedlow's character and
evidence.--His strange story.--Development of the "horrid plot."
--William Staley is made a victim.--Three Jesuits hung.--Titus
Oates pronounced the saviour of his country.--Striving to ruin
the queen.--Monstrous story of Bedlow and Oates.--The king
protects her majesty.--Five Jesuits executed.--Fresh rumours
concerning the papists.--Bill to exclude the Duke of York.--Lord
Stafford is tried.--Scene at Tower Hill.--Fate of the
conspirators.
Before the remains of Sir Edmondbury Godfrey were laid to rest, a
proclamation was issued by the king, offering a reward of five
hundred pounds for discovery of the murderers. If one of the
assassins betrayed those who helped him in the deed, he should
receive, not only the sum mentioned, but likewise a free pardon,
and such protection for his security as he could in reason
propose. Two days after this had been made public, a man named
William Bedlow put himself in communication with Sir William
Coventry, Secretary of State, declaring he had a certain
knowledge of the murder in question.
Archdeacon Eachard tells us this man "was one of a base birth and
worse manners, who from a poor foot-boy and runner of errands,
for a while got into a livery in the Lord Bellasis's family; and
having for his villainies suffered hardships and want in many
prisons in England, he afterwards turned a kind of post or letter
carrier for those who thought fit to employ him beyond sea. By
these means he got the names and habitations of men of quality,
their relations, correspondents, and interests; and upon this
bottom, with a daring boldness, and a, dexterous turn of fancy
and address, he put himself into the world. He was skilful in
all the arts and methods of cheating; but his masterpiece was his
personating men of quality, getting credit for watches, coats,
and horses; borrowing money, bilking vintners and tradesmen,
lying and romancing to the degree of imposing upon any man of
good nature. He lived like a wild Arab upon prey, and whether he
was in Flanders, France, Spain, or England, he never failed in
leaving the name of a notorious cheat and impostor behind him."
On the 7th of November, Bedlow was brought before the king, and
examined by two Secretaries of State. Here he made the
extraordinary declaration that he had seen the body of the
murdered magistrate lying at Somerset House--then the residence
of the queen; that two Jesuits, named La Faire and Walsh, told
him they, with the assistance of an attendant in the queen's
chapel, had smothered Sir Edmondbury Godfrey between two pillows;
that he had been offered two thousand guineas if he would safely
remove the body, which on his refusal was carried away, a couple
of nights after the murder, by three persons unknown to him, who
were servants of the queen's household. Hearing this statement,
Sir William Coventry asked him if he knew anything of the popish
plot, when he affirmed on oath he was entirely ignorant regarding
it; he likewise swore he knew no such man as Titus Oates.
That night he was lodged in Whitehall, in company with Tonge and
Oates; and next morning appeared before the House of Lords, when
it was evident his memory had wonderfully improved since the
previous day. His story now assumed a more concise form. In the
beginning of October, he stated, he had been offered the sum of
four thousand pounds, to be paid by Lord Bellasis, provided he
murdered a man whose name was withheld from him, This he refused.
He was then asked to make the acquaintance and watch the
movements of Sir Edmondbury Godfrey. With this he complied.
Soon after dusk on the 12th of October, the magistrate had been
dragged into the court of Somerset House by the Jesuits, and
asked if he would send for the documents to which Oates had
sworn. On his refusal he had been smothered with a piece of
linen cloth; the story of suffocation by pillows, being at
variance with the medical evidence, was now abandoned. One of
the Jesuits, La Faire, had asked Bedlow to call at Somerset House
that night at nine o'clock; and on presenting himself, he was
conducted through a gloomy passage into a spacious and sombre
room, where a group of figures stood round a body lying on the
floor. Advancing to these, La Faire turned the light of a
lantern he carried on the face of the prostrate man, when Bedlow
recognised Sir Edmondbury Godfrey. He was then offered two
thousand guineas if he would remove the body, which was allowed
to remain there three days. This he promised to accomplish, but
afterwards, his conscience reproving him, he resolved to avoid
the assassins; and rather than accept the sum proffered, he had
preferred discovering the villainy to the Government.
This improbable story obtained no credit with the king, nor
indeed with those whose minds were free from prejudice. "His
majesty," writes Sir John Reresby, "told me Bedlow was a rogue,
and that he was satisfied he had given false evidence concerning
the death of Sir Edmondbury Godfrey." Many circumstances
regarding the narrator and his story showed the viciousness of
the one and the falsity of the other. The authority just
mentioned states, when Bedlow "was taxed with having cheated a
great many merchants abroad, and gentlemen at home, by
personating my Lord Gerard and other men of quality, and by
divers other cheats, he made it an argument to be more credited
in this matter, saying nobody but a rogue could be employed in
such designs." Concerning the murder, it chanced the king had
been at Somerset House visiting the queen, at the time when,
according to Bedlow, the deed had been committed. His majesty
had been attended by a company of guards, and sentries had been
placed at every door; yet not one of them had witnessed a
scuffle, or heard a noise. Moreover, on the king sending Bedlow
to Somerset House, that he might indicate the apartment in which
the magistrate's remains had lain three days, he pointed out a
room where the footman waited, and through which the queen's
meals were daily carried.
But the dishonesty of his character and falsity of his statements
by no means prevented the majority of his hearers from believing,
or pretending to believe, his statements; and therefore,
encouraged by the ready reception they met, he ventured to make
fresh and startling revelations. Heedless of the oath he had
taken on the first day of his examination, regarding his
ignorance of the popish plot, he now asserted he was well
acquainted with all its details. For some four years he had been
in the secret employment of the wicked Jesuits, and knew they
intended to stab and poison his majesty, establish catholicity in
England, and make the pope king. So far, indeed, had their evil
machinations been planned, that several popish peers already held
commissions for posts they expected to fill in the future. Lord
Bellasis and Lord Powis were appointed commanders of the forces
in the north and south; whilst Lord Arundel of Wardour had
permission to grant such positions as he pleased. Then the Dukes
of Buckingham, Ormond, and Monmouth, with Lords Shaftesbury and
Ossory, together with many others, were to be murdered by forty
thousand papists, who were ready to rise up all over the country
at a moment's notice. "Nor was there," he added, "a Roman
Catholic of any quality or credit but was acquainted with these
designs and had received the sacrament from their father
confessors to be secret in carrying it out."
It by no means pleased Oates that Bedlow should surpass him in
his knowledge of this hellish plot. Therefore, that he might not
lose in repute as an informer, he now declared he was also aware
of the commissions held by popish peers. He, however, assigned
them in a different order. Arundel was to be made chancellor;
Powis, treasurer; Bellasis general of the army; Petre,
lieutenant-general; Ratcliffe, major-general; Stafford,
paymaster-general; and Langhorn, advocate-general. Nay, his
information far outstripped Bedlow's, for he swore that to his
knowledge Coleman had given four ruffians eighty guineas to stab
the king, and Sir George Wakeham had undertaken to poison his
majesty for ten thousand pounds. When, however, he was brought
face to face with these men, he was unable to recognise them, a
fact he accounted for by stating he was exhausted by prolonged
examination,
All England was scared by revelations so horrible; "the business
of life," writes Macpherson, "was interrupted by confusion,
panic, clamour, and dreadful rumours." In London, two thousand
catholics were cast into prison; houses were daily searched for
arms and treasonable documents; and in good time merciless
executions filled up the sum of bitter persecutions.
One of the first victims of this so-called plot was William
Staley, a catholic banker of fair renown. The manner in which
his life was sacrificed will serve as an example of the injustice
meted to those accused. One day, William Staley happened to
enter a pastrycook's shop in Covent Garden, opposite his bank,
where there chanced to stand at the time a fellow named
Carstairs; one of the infamous creatures who, envious of the
honours and riches heaped on Oates and Bedlow, resolved to make
new discoveries and enjoy like rewards. At this time he was, as
Bishop Burnet states, "looking about where he could find a lucky
piece of villainy." Unfortunately the banker came under his
notice, and Bedlow and an associate pretended to have heard
Staley say the king was a rogue and a persecutor of the people
whom he would stab if no other man was found to do the deed.
These words Carstairs wrote down, and next morning called on the
banker, showed him the treasonable sentence, and said he would
swear it had been uttered by him, unless he, Staley, would
purchase his silence. Though fully aware of his danger, he
refused to do this; whereon Carstairs had him instantly arrested
and committed for trial. Hearing of his situation, and knowing
the infamous character of his accusers, Dr. Burnet thought it his
duty to let the lord chancellor and the attorney-general know
"What profligate wretches these witnesses were." His
interference was received with hostility. The attorney-general
took it ill that he should disparage the king's evidence; Lord
Shaftesbury avowed those who sought to undermine the credit of
witnesses were to be looked on as public enemies; whilst the Duke
of Lauderdale said Burnet desired to save Staley because of the
regard he had for anyone who would murder his majesty.
Frightened by such remarks at a time when no man's life or credit
was safe, Burnet shrank from further action; but rumour of his
interference having got noised abroad, it was resented by the
public to such an extent, that he was advised not to stir abroad
for fear of public affronts.
Within five days of his arrest, William Staley was condemned to
death. In vain he protested his innocence, pointed out the
improbability of his using such words in a public room, and
referred to his character as a loyal man and worthy citizen. He
was condemned and executed as a traitor.
The next victim was Coleman. He denied having hired assassins to
murder his majesty, or entertained desires for his death; but
honestly stated he had striven to advance his religion, not by
bloodshed, but by tolerance. Whilst lying in chains at Newgate
prison under sentence of death members of both Houses of
Parliament visited him, and offered him pardon if he confessed a
knowledge of the plot; but, in answer to all persuasions and
promises, he avowed his innocence; protesting which, he died at
Tyburn.
A little later, three Jesuits, named Ireland, Whitehead, and
Fenwick, and two attendants of the queen's chapel, named Grove
and Pickering, were executed on a charge of conspiracy to kill
the king. Oates and Bedlow swore these Jesuits had promised
Grove fifteen hundred pounds as price of the murder; Pickering
chose as his reward to have thirty thousand masses, at a shilling
a mass, said for him. Three times they had attempted this deed
with a pistol; but once the flint was loose, another time there
was no powder in the pan, and again the pistol was charged only
with bullets. These five men died denying their guilt to the
last.
Meanwhile, Dr. Tonge, the ingenious inventor of the plot, had
sunk into insignificance by comparison with his audacious pupil.
Not only did the latter have apartments at Whitehall allotted
him, and receive a pension of twelve hundred a year, but he was
lauded as the saviour of his country, complimented with the title
of doctor of divinity, honoured in public, and entertained in
private. Eachard mentions "a great supper in the city," given in
compliment to Oates by "twenty eminent rich citizens;" and Sir
John Reresby writes of meeting him at the dinner-table of Dr.
Gunning, Bishop of Ely. Nothing could exceed the insolence and
arrogance of the impostor. He appeared in a silk gown and
cassock, a long scarf, a broad hat with satin band and rose, and
called himself a doctor of divinity. No man dared contradict or
oppose him, lest he should be denounced as a conniver of the
plot, and arrested as a traitor. "Whoever he pointed at was
taken up and committed," says North. "So that many people got
out of his way as from a blast, and glad they could prove their
last two years' conversation. The very breath of him was
pestilential, and if it brought not imprisonment, it surely
poisoned reputation." Sir John, speaking of him at the bishop's
dinner-table, says "he was blown up with the hopes of running
down the Duke of York, and spoke of him and his family after a
manner which showed himself both a fool and a knave. He
reflected not only on him personally, but upon her majesty;
nobody daring to contradict him, for fear of being made a party
to the plot. I at least did not undertake to do it, when he left
the room in some heat. The bishop told me this was his usual
discourse, and that he had checked him formerly for taking so
indecent a liberty, but he found it was to no purpose."
The impostor's conversation on this occasion furnishes the key-
note of a vile plot now contrived to intercept the lawful
succession, either by effectually removing the queen, and thereby
enabling the king to marry again; or otherwise excluding the Duke
of York by act of parliament from lawful right to the crown.
Though Shaftesbury's hand was not plainly seen, there can be no
doubt it was busily employed in working out his favourite design.
The blow was first aimed at her majesty by Bedlow, who, on the
25th of November, accused her of conspiring to kill her husband.
About eighteen months previously, he said, there had been a
consultation in the chapel gallery at Somerset House, which had
been attended by Lord Bellasis, Mr. Coleman, La Faire, Pritchard,
Latham, and Sheldon, four Jesuits, and two Frenchmen whom he took
to be abbots, two persons of quality whose faces he did not see,
and lastly by her majesty. The Jesuits afterwards confided in
him as a person of trust, that the queen wept at a proposal to
murder the king which had been made, but subsequently yielding to
arguments of the French abbots, had consented to the design.
Indeed, Bedlow, who was in the sacristy when her majesty passed
through at the termination of this meeting, noticed her face had
much changed. Here his story ended; but, as was now usual, it
was taken up and concluded by Oates.
Appearing at the Bar of the House of Commons, this vile impostor
cried out, "Aye, Taitus Oates, accause Caatharine, Quean of
England, of haigh traison." Then followed his audacious
evidence. In the previous July, Sir George Wakeham, in writing
to a Jesuit named Ashby, stated her majesty would aid in
poisoning the king. A few days afterwards, Harcourt and four
other Jesuits having been sent for, attended the queen at
Somerset House. On that occasion Oates waited on them; they went
into a chamber, he stayed without. Whilst there he heard a
woman's voice say she would endure her wrongs no longer, but
should assist Sir George Wakeham in poisoning the king. He was
afterwards admitted to the chamber, and saw no woman there but
her majesty; and he heard the same voice ask Harcourt, whilst be
was within, if he had received the last ten thousand pounds.
The appetite of public credulity seeming to increase by that on
which it fed, this avowal was readily believed. That the
accusation had not been previously made; that Oates had months
before sworn he knew no others implicated in the plot beyond
those he named; that the queen had never interfered in religious
matters; that she loved her husband exceeding well, were facts
completely overlooked in the general agitation. Parliament "was
in a rage and flame;" and next day the Commons drew up an address
to the king, stating that "having received information of a most
desperate and traitorous design against the life of his sacred
majesty, wherein the queen is particularly charged and accused"
they besought him that "she and all her family, and all papists
and reputed papists, be forthwith removed from his court."
Furthermore, the House sent a message to the Peers, desiring
their concurrence in this request; but the Lords made answer,
before doing so they would examine the witnesses against her
majesty. This resolution was loudly and indecently protested
against by Lord Shaftesbury and two of his friends.
The king had discredited the story of the plot from the first;
but remembering the unhappy consequences which had resulted upon
the disagreement of the monarch and his parliament in the
previous reign, he weakly resolved to let himself be carried away
by the storm, other than offer it resistance. On the
condemnation of the Jesuits, he had appeared unhappy and
dissatisfied; "but," says Lord Romney, "after he had had a little
advice he kept his displeasure to himself." The Duke of York
states, in the Stuart Papers, that "the seeming necessity of his
affairs made his majesty think he could not be safe but by
consenting every day to the execution of those he knew in his
heart to be most innocent." Now, however, when foul charges were
made against the queen, calculated not merely to ruin her honour
but destroy her life, he resolved to interfere. He therefore
requested she would return to Whitehall, where she should be safe
under his protection; and feeling assured Oates had received
instructions from others more villainous than their tool, he
ordered a strict guard to be kept upon him. This he was,
however, obliged to remove next day at request of the Commons.
On the examination before the House of Lords of Oates and Bedlow,
their evidence proved so vague and contradictory that it was
rejected even by the most credulous. When Bedlow was asked "why
be had not disclosed such a perilous matter in conjunction with
his previous information touching the murder of Sir Edmondbury
Godfrey," he coolly replied, "it had escaped his memory." On
Oates being sent to point out the apartment in which he had seen
her majesty and the Jesuits, he first selected the guard-room,
and afterwards the privy chamber, places in which it would have
been impossible to have held secret consultation. Aware that the
king was resolved to protect her majesty, and conscious the
evidence of her accusers was more wildly improbable than usual,
the Lords refused to second the address of the Commons, when the
charge against this hapless woman was abandoned, to the great
vexation of my Lord Shaftesbury.
Though the queen happily escaped the toils of her enemies, the
reign of terror was by no means at an end. At request of the
king, the Duke of York left England and took refuge in Brussels;
the catholic peers imprisoned in the Tower were impeached with
high treason; Hill, Green, and Berry, servants of her majesty,
charged with the murder of Sir Edmondbury Godfrey, were, without
a shadow of evidence, hurried to the scaffold, as were soon after
Whitebread, Fenwick, Harcourt, Gavan and Turner, Jesuits all, and
Langhorn, a catholic lawyer, for conspiring to murder the king.
On the morning when these unfortunate men stood ignominiously
bound to the gallows at Tyburn, the instruments of death before
their eyes, the angry murmurs of the surging mob ringing in their
ears, suddenly the sound of a voice crying aloud, "A pardon! a
pardon!" was heard afar off, and presently a horseman appeared
riding at full speed. The soldiers with some difficulty making
way for him through a line of excited people, he advanced to the
foot of the scaffold, and handed a roll of paper bearing the
king's seal to the sheriff, who, opening it, read a promise of
pardon to those now standing face to face with death, provided
"they should acknowledge the conspiracy, and lay open what they
knew thereof." To this they replied they knew of no plot, and
had never desired harm to the king; and, praying for those who
had sought their lives, they died.
The firmness and patience with which the victims of judicial
murder had one and all met death, refusing bribes, and resisting
persuasions to own themselves guilty, could not fail in producing
some effect upon the public mind; and towards the middle of the
year 1679 the first signs of reaction became visible, when three
Benedictine monks and the queen's physician were tried for
conspiracy "to poison the king, subvert the government, and
introduce popery." During the examination, Evelyn tells us, "the
bench was crowded with the judges, lord mayor, justices, and
innumerable spectators." After a tedious trial of nine hours,
the jury brought the prisoners in not guilty, "without," says
Evelyn, "sufficient disadvantage and reflection on witnesses,
especially on Oates and Bedlow."
As my Lord Shaftesbury had not yet succeeded in his desired
project of excluding the Duke of York from succession, the
symptoms of change in public opinion were thoroughly distasteful
to him. He therefore resolved to check them immediately, and
stimulate the agitation and fear that had for many months reigned
paramount through out the nation. For this purpose he had
recourse to his former method of circulating wild and baseless
reports. Accordingly a rumour was soon brought before the House
of Commons of a horrible plot hatched by the papists to burn
London to the ground. This, it was alleged, would be effected by
a servant-maid setting a clothes-press on fire in the house of
her master, situated in Fetter Lane. Two vile Irishmen were to
feed the flames, and meanwhile the catholics would rise in
rebellion, and, assisted by an army of sixty thousand French
soldiers, kill the king, and put all protestants to the sword.
Though this tale was in due time discredited, yet it served its
purpose in the present. The violent alarm it caused had not
subsided when another terrible story, started on the excellent
authority of Lord Shaftesbury's cook, added a new terror. This
stated the Duke of York had placed himself at the head of the
French troops, with intention of landing in England, murdering
the king and forcing papacy on his subjects. The scare was
sufficiently effectual to cause Parliament to petition his
majesty that he might revoke all licenses recently granted
catholic householders to reside in the capital; and order the
execution of all priests who administered sacraments or
celebrated mass within the kingdom. Soon after this address,
Lord Russell was sent by the Commons to the Peers, requesting
their concurrence in the statement that "the Duke of York's being
a papist, the hope of his coming to the crown had given the
greatest countenance and encouragement to the conspiracies and
designs of the papists." And now, in May, 1679, the condition of
popular feeling promising well for its success. the Bill of
Exclusion was introduced, ordaining that "James, Duke of York
should be incapable of inheriting the crowns of England and
Ireland; that on the demise of his majesty without heirs of his
body, his dominions should devolve, as if the Duke of York were
also dead, on that person next in succession who had always
professed the protestant religion established by law." This
passed the House of Commons by a majority of seventy-nine votes.
Alarmed by this bill, Charles resolved to show signs of
resentment, and at the same time check the increasing power of
the Commons, by a sudden and decisive movement. Therefore,
without previously hinting at his intentions, he prorogued
parliament before the bill was sent to the House of Lords. This
was a keen surprise to all, and a bitter disappointment to
Shaftesbury, who vowed those who advised the king to this measure
should answer for it with their heads. Owing to various delays,
the Bill of Exclusion was not brought before the Peers until
eighteen months later. Its introduction was followed by a debate
lasting six hours, in which Shaftesbury distinguished himself by
his force and bitterness. At nine o'clock at night the House
divided, when the measure was rejected by a majority of thirty-
three votes, amongst which were those of the fourteen bishops
present.
Mortified by this unexpected decision, the violent passions of
the defeated party hurried them on to seek the blood of those
peers lodged in the Tower. Of the five, William Howard, Viscount
Stafford--youngest son of the Earl of Arran, and nephew of the
Duke of Norfolk--was selected to be first put upon his trial;
inasmuch as, being over sixty years, and a sufferer from many
infirmities, it was judged he would be the least capable of
making a vigorous defence. Three perjured witnesses swore he had
plotted against the king's life, but no proof was forthcoming to
support their evidence. Notwithstanding this was "bespattered
and falsified in almost every point," it was received as
authentic by the judges, who made a national cause of his
prosecution, and considered no punishment too severe for a
papist. After a trial of five days sentence of death was
pronounced upon him, and on the 29th of December, 1680, he was
beheaded on Tower Hill.
Like those who had suffered from similar charges, he protested
his innocence to the last; but his words met with a reception
different from theirs. Their dying speeches had been greeted by
groans, hisses, and signs of insatiable fury; but his
declarations fell upon silent and sympathizing hearts. When he
had made denial of the crimes of which he was accused, a great
cry rose from the mob, "We believe you--we believe you, my lord;"
and then a single voice calling out "God bless you!" the words
were taken up and repeated by a vast throng, so that the last
sounds he heard on earth were those of prayer. He died with a
firmness worthy of his caste. Having laid his head upon the
block, the executioner brandished his axe in the air, and then
set it quietly down at his feet. Raising his head, Lord Stafford
inquired the cause of delay; the executioner replied he awaited a
sign. "Take your time," said he who stood at the verge of
eternity; "I shall make no sign." He who held the axe in his
hand hesitated a second, and then said in a low and troubled
voice, "Do you forgive me, sir?" To which Lord Stafford made
brief answer, "I do." Then he laid his head again upon the
blood-stained block. Once more the glitter of steel flashed
through the air, a groan arose from the crowd, and Lord
Stafford's head was severed from his body.
A reaction now set in, and gained strength daily. The remaining
peers were in due time liberated; the blood of innocent victims
was no longer shed; and the Duke of York was recalled. Such was
the end of the popish plot, which, says Archdeacon Eachard,
"after the strictest and coolest examinations, and after a full
length of time, the government could find very little foundation
to support so vast a fabrick, besides downright swearing and
assurance; not a gun, sword, nor dagger, not a flask of powder or
dark lanthorn, to effect this strange villainy, and with the
exception of Coleman's writings, not one slip of an original
letter of commission among those great numbers alledged to uphold
the reputation of the discoveries."
Concerning those through whose malice such disturbance was
wrought, and so much blood shed, a few words may be added.
Within twelve months of Lord Stafford's execution, Shaftesbury
was charged with high treason, but escaping condemnation, fled
from further molestation to Holland, where, after a residence of
six weeks, he died. Tonge departed this life in 1680,
unbenefited by the monstrous plot he had so skilfully devised;
and in the same year Bedlow was carried to the grave after an
illness of four days. Oates survived to meet a share of the
ignominy and punishment due to his crimes. After a residence of
three years in Whitehall, he was driven out of the palace on
account of "certain misdemeanors laid to his charge," and
deprived of his salary. Two years later, in May, 1683, he was
accused of calling the Duke of York a traitor, and using
scandalous words towards his royal highness. Upon hearing of the
case the jury fined him one hundred thousand pounds. Unable to
pay the sum, he was cast into prison, where he remained six
years, until liberated in the reign of William and Mary, His
punishment was not, however, at an end. At the Michaelmas term
of 1684 he was accused of having wilfully perjured himself at the
late trials. As he pleaded not guilty, his case was appointed to
be heard at the King's Bench Court. His trial did not take place
until May, 1685, on which occasion the lord chief justice, in
summing up the evidence, declared, "There does not remain the
slightest doubt that Oates is the blackest and most perjured
villain on the face of the earth."
After a quarter of an hour's absence from court, the jury
returned a verdict of guilty, and sentence was pronounced against
him. He was stripped of his canonical habit; forced to walk
through all the courts of Westminster Hall proclaiming his
crimes; to stand an hour on the pillory opposite Westminster Hall
gate on Monday; an hour on the pillory at the Royal Exchange on
Tuesday; and on Wednesday he was tied to a cart and whipt at the
hands of the common hangman from Aldgate to Newgate, in the
presence, says Eachard, "of innumerable spectators, who had a
more than ordinary curiosity to see the sight."
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