Agag's murder is to be understood of the mysterious death of Sir Edmondbury Godfrey. This gentleman was an active justice of peace, and had been knighted by Charles II., on account of his exertions during the fire of London. In other respects, he was low-spirited, and rather a timorous man, and, in the exercise of his office, favourable to the Catholics. Oates, finding the information he had lodged with the ministers concerning the Popish plot rather less ardently listened to than he expected, chose to utter before this magistrate a full declaration on the subject upon oath. His intention was probably to make the matter as public as possible. Godfrey expressed much unwillingness to have any thing to do with the matter at all; and when he had heard the story out, expressed to his friends his fear that he should have no thanks for his pains, but would probably be the first martyr. This strange, and one would think absurd, boding proved too true; after having been missing for several days, this unfortunate man was found lying in a ditch, near Primrose-hill. There were marks of strangling round his neck; and although his own sword was thrust through his body, yet it turned out to have been done after death. His money and rings were safe; robbery was therefore out of the question. This murder ever will remain among the riddles of history. Three opinions have been entertained: 1st, North does not hesitate to affirm, that the contrivers and abettors of the plot murdered this poor man, to give some colour to the story of the bloody machinations of the Papists: But this seems too strange and desperate a course to be imputed to the opposition party at large without some positive proof; and as for Oates and his brother witnesses, (whom we will not injure by suspecting them capable of remorseful, or compunctious visitings,) their steps were, at this time, too much the object of observation to admit of their executing so bloody a plan with the necessary degree of secrecy. 2d, It has been thought that Godfrey, a man of a melancholy temperament, whose dark and cloudy spirit had been just agitated by a strange tale of blood and mystery, may have been wrought up to take that time to commit suicide. It is even positively asserted, that he hanged himself at home, and that his brothers conveyed the body to the place where it was found, to avoid the shame and other consequences of his fate becoming public. There is something plausible in this account; but it is entirely unsupported by proof of any kind. 3d, The grand solution, and indeed the only one which would go down at the time, was, that Godfrey had fallen by the papists. There were probably enough of fanatics in that sect to have executed such a deed, had it been of consequence to the progress of their religion: But there appears no adequate motive for taking off Godfrey, who had merely taken down a deposition which he could not refuse to receive, and who had besides endeavoured to serve the accused parties, by transmitting to Coleman an account of the affidavit; while Oates and his companions, the depositaries of the supposed secret, and whose death would stifle the plot for ever, were suffered to walk about, even unattempted. Positive evidence was however obtained, to silence all hypothetical reasoning on the subject. One Bedlow, a very infamous character, amid a thousand dreadful stories of fires raised by the Jesuits from 1666 downwards, charged the Catholics, and particularly Miles Prance, a silver-smith, with the death of Godfrey[329]. This man was imprisoned in Newgate; and, after much communing with Shaftesbury and Buckingham, in which, it is said, neither threats, promises, nor actual tortures were spared, confessed himself an accomplice in the murder.[330] He retracted this confession before the privy-council; but being remanded to prison, new terrors, promises, and sufferings, induced him to retract that retractation. His story was a tissue of improbabilities; and he and Bedlow, when adduced as evidence on the trial of three poor men, whom they charged with strangling Godfrey, concealing the body in Somerset-House, and afterwards disposing of it on Primrose-hill, contradicted each other, and contradicted themselves. All was in vain: the three innocent victims of perjury were condemned and executed, and the witnesses promoted and rewarded, not with money only, but, strange to say, with universal respect and regard; although their merit, supposing it to be real, was that of murderers and incendiaries, who had turned evidence for the crown against their accomplices.
The outcry raised about Godfrey's murder at the time, and for long after, gave the plot its surest foundation and support. When his funeral rites were performed, the crowd was prodigious, and the papists were sufficiently cautious to keep within doors, or some might have been offered up as an oblation to the manes of Justice Godfrey. While the clergyman preached the funeral sermon of the protestant victim, two robust divines stood by him in the pulpit, lest, while rendering this last duty to the murdered magistrate, he should in facie ecclesiæ be murdered by the papists. At the formal pope-burnings of the party, Sir Edmondbury, supported on a steed by his murderers, was a principal figure in the procession, preceded by a harbinger, who rung a bell, and admonished the people to remember Justice Godfrey. In short, this unfortunate gentleman's death, however it came about, continued long to be the watch-word and war-cry of those, who called themselves the true protestant party.
The crowd, that still believe their kings oppress,
With lifted hands their young Messiah bless;
Who now begins his progress to ordain,
With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train.—P. [239.]
"In August, 1680, the Duke of Monmouth went into the country to divert himself, visiting several gentlemen in the west of England, by whom he was received and entertained with a gallantry suitable to the greatness of his birth, and the relation he stood in to his majesty; incredible numbers of people flocking from all the adjacent parts to see this great champion of the English nation, who had been so successful against both the Dutch, French, and Scots. He went first into Wiltshire, and was pleased to honour the worthy esquire Thynne with his company for some days. From thence he went to Mr Speak's, in Somersetshire, in which progress he was caressed with the joyful acclamations of the country people, who came from all parts; twenty miles about the lanes and hedges being every where lined with men, women, and children, who, with incessant shouts, cried, "God bless King Charles and the Protestant Duke!" In some towns and parishes which he passed through, they strewed the streets and highways where he was to pass with herbs and flowers, especially at Ilchester and Pithyton; others presenting him with bottles of wine. When he came within ten miles of Mr Speak's, he was met by two thousand persons on horseback, whose numbers still increased as they drew nearer to Mr Speak's, and when they arrived there, they were reputed to be twenty thousand; wherefore they were forced to break down several pearch of his park pales to enlarge their passage to the house, where his grace and all this numerous company were entertained and treated, in an extraordinary manner.
"On the 26th, he went to Brompton; being met on the road by a great company of gentry and country people, who conducted him to Sir J. Sydenham's, where he was entertained at a noble and splendid dinner. The next day he went to Barrington, where he was pleased to honour Mr William Stroud with his company at dinner; the entertainment being nothing inferior to what his Grace had met with in all other places. After dinner he went to Chard, where he arrived about five in the afternoon, attended with a train of five thousand horsemen; and there he was met and welcomed by a crowd of men, women, and children, who had not a mute among them, but were almost all of them made deaf by their own shouts and acclamations of joy. His Grace lay there that night, being treated at a very splendid supper; he lodged at the house of M. Prideaux.[331] The next day, having been entertained at a sumptuous dinner, he rid to Ilminster, and in the afternoon he went to Whitelackindon, where he lay that night; and the day following, which was Sunday, his grace observed the Sabbath with a religious care, and went to Ilminster church. On the 30th, he went to Calliton, where he was entertained by Sir Walter Young. The next day he went to Overton, where he was entertained, and lodged by Mr Dukes. From thence he went to Exeter, and was met by the citizens and the people of all the adjacent parts, to the number of twenty thousand persons; but that which was more remarkable, was the appearance of a brave company of brisk, stout young men, all clothed in linen waistcoats and drawers, white, and harmless, having not so much as a stick in their hands; they were in number about nine hundred or a thousand; they went three miles out of the city to meet his Grace, where they were drawn up all on a little hill, and divided into two parts, in which order they attended the Duke's coming, who rid up first between them, and then round each company; after which they united, and went hand in hand in order before, where he was no sooner arrived, but a universal shout from all parts echoed forth his welcome; the numerous concourse of people, the incredible and amazing acclamations, and the universal joy which then filled the whole city, far exceeding my pen to describe.[332]
"From thence he returned to Mr Speake's, where the whole country flocked again to see and admire him, not being enough satisfied with their former sight. From thence he went the next day to Mr Harvie's, near Yeovil, where he dined, and in the afternoon he rid to Esquire Thynne's; people flocking from all the towns and villages thereabout to Howden-hill, where they attended the Duke's coming; and after they had, by loud acclamations, proclaimed his welcome amongst them, and expressed their joy for his safe return, they took their leave of him, returning his Grace their humble and hearty thanks for that kind visit, and for his having condescended to accept of their plain, but true-hearted entertainment. From thence he returned to London, wonderfully pleased with the noble and generous entertainment he met with at the several places where he came; every place striving to out-vye each other."[333]