A church vermilion and a Moses’ face.[8]
This was the tender being whom the Colegio de los Ingleses took to nurse into a Jesuit.
The project failed of its mark. Five short months completed Oates’ stay amid the new surroundings. On October 30, 1677 he was expelled the college and shipped home, reaching London in November.[9] The sojourn was in after days utilised to elevate him to the dignity of doctor of divinity. He had obtained the degree at Salamanca, he said. The truth was more accurately expressed in the lines—
The spirit caught him up, the Lord knows where,
And gave him his Rabbinical degree
Unknown to foreign university;[10]
for none but priests were admitted by the Catholic Church to the doctorate, Oates was never a priest, and was never at Salamanca in his life.[11] Though Valladolid had proved no great success, Oates was unabashed. He returned to Strange and the Jesuits in London. Protestations were renewed, and the eagerness of the expelled novice was not to be withstood. The Jesuits afterwards professed that they simply desired to keep Oates out of the way. Whatever their motive, he was given a new trial. The society furnished a new suit of clothes and a periwig, put four pounds into his pocket, and sent him to complete his education at St. Omers. On December 10 he was admitted into the seminary.[12] For one ambitious of an ecclesiastical career the venture was not fruitful. Long evidence was given at a later date descriptive of Oates’ course in the college. In important points it lies under strong suspicion,[13] but the picture of his daily doings may be taken as faithful. Oates was not a congenial companion to his fellows. Though a separate table was provided for him at meals, he went to school with the rest and attempted to gain their intimacy. He was the source of continual quarrels, spoiled sport, tried to play the bully, and sometimes met with the retribution that falls on bullies. He was reader in the sodality, and enlivened more serious works, such as Father Worsley’s Controversies, with interludes from that most entertaining book, The Contempt of the Clergy.[14] He had a pan broken over his head for insisting at a play by the novices on sitting in the place reserved for the musicians. On another occasion he excited the amusement of the college by allowing himself to be beaten up and down by a lad with a fox’s brush. Still nobler was an effort in the pulpit, where he preached “a pleasant sermon,” expounding his belief that “King Charles the Second halted between two opinions and a stream of Popery went between his legs.”[15] Lurid tales of Oates’ conduct were afterwards published by the Jesuit fathers.[16] What is more certainly true is the fact that his presence in the seminary rapidly became embarrassing. On June 23, 1678 he was turned out of doors, and shook the dust of St. Omers from his feet. On the 27th he reached London.[17]
When Oates formed his alliance with Dr. Ezrael Tonge, rector of St. Michael’s in Wood Street, is uncertain. The point is not without importance. If Oates came first to Tonge in the summer of 1678, the fact would be so far in his favour that he may have sought a good market for wares which he believed to be in some degree sound. If he took directions from Tonge before his visit to the Jesuit seminaries, the chance of his sincerity would be much diminished. Simpson Tonge, the rector’s son, afterwards composed a journal of these events. Unhappily his statements are without value. Hoping for reward at one time from Oates, at another from his enemies, Tonge contradicted himself flatly, urging for the informer that Oates had sought his father only after the return from St. Omers; against him, that the two had, during an intimacy of two years, designed the Popish Plot before ever Oates went abroad.[18] Judgment must therefore be suspended; but it is notable that King Charles thought the evidence as to the intrigue between Oates and Tonge unworthy of credence. Simpson Tonge was taken to Windsor in the summer of 1680 to reveal his knowledge. He left there papers in which evidence of the facts was contained. Charles examined them, and told Sydney Godolphin that “he found them very slight and immaterial,” and refused to see Tonge again.[19] At whatever point co-operation began, acquaintance between the two men was likely enough of long standing. Tonge had been presented to his living by Sir Richard Barker, the ancient patron of Samuel Oates. A natural tie thus existed, now to be developed by circumstances into strong union. The doctor was an assiduous labourer in the Protestant vineyard. His fear of Popery amounted to mania. Volumes poured from his pen in denunciation of Catholic conspiracies. A catalogue was afterwards made of Tonge’s library. Its character may be judged from the titles of the following works:—Massacres threatened to Prevent, Temple and Tabernacle, Arguments to suppress Popery.[20] He had co-operated with John Evelyn in translating The Mystery of Jesuitism, a work which King Charles said he had carried for two days in his pocket and read; “at which,” writes Evelyn, “I did not a little wonder.”[21] When fame overtook him, Tonge raised the ghost of Habernfeld’s Plot and spent some ingenuity in turning the name of Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey to Dy’d by Rome’s reveng’d fury, that of Edward Coleman to Lo a damned crew. Now he passed a bashful and disappointed life. Needy and full of silly notions, he divided his time between the detection of Jesuitry and the study of obscure sciences. Here was beyond doubt the man to interest himself in Oates. For Oates had brought back from beyond seas a prodigious tale, calculated to set the most unpractical alarmist in action.
The scope of the disclosure was vast. Written at length and with the promise of more to come, Oates’ True and Exact Narrative of the Horrid Plot and Conspiracy of the Popish Party against the life of His Sacred Majesty, the Government, and the Protestant Religion filled a folio pamphlet of sixty-eight pages. The Pope, said Oates, had declared himself lord of the kingdoms of England and Ireland. To the work of their reduction and government the Jesuits were commissioned by papal briefs and instructed by orders from the general of the society. Jesuit agents were at work fomenting rebellion in Scotland and Ireland. Money had been raised and arms collected. The hour had only to strike for an Irish port to be opened to a French force in aid of the great scheme. The Papists had burned down London once and tried to burn it again. A third attempt would be no less successful than the first. Chief of all, a “consult” of the English Jesuits had been held on April 24, 1678 at the White Horse tavern in the Strand, to concert means for the king’s assassination. Charles was a bastard and an excommunicated heretic. He deserved death, and the deed was necessary for the Catholic cause. Want of variety in the instruments chosen should not save him. He was to be poisoned by the queen’s physician. He was to be shot with silver bullets in St. James’ Park. Four Irish ruffians were hired to dispatch him at Windsor. A Jesuit named Coniers had consecrated a knife a foot in length to stab him. Great sums of money were promised by French and Spanish Jesuits and by the Benedictine prior to whoever should do the work. If the Duke of York did not consent to the king’s death, the same fate lay in store for him. In all this Oates had been a confidential messenger and an active agent. It was only due to the fact that he had been appointed for the task of killing Dr. Tonge that the scheme thus carefully prepared was not put to the test; for Tonge had moved him to exchange the trade of murderer and incendiary for that of informer. Thus the great plot was divulged, together with the names of ninety-nine persons concerned, as well as those nominated for offices under the prospective Jesuit government, of whom the most prominent were the Lords Arundel of Wardour, Powis, Petre, Stafford, Bellasis, Sir William Godolphin, Sir George Wakeman, and Mr. Edward Coleman. The falsehood of all this has been conclusively demonstrated. Not only did Oates bear all the marks of the liar and never produce the slightest evidence for what he announced, but much of his story is contradicted by the actual conditions of politics at the time. The fact of his conviction for perjury is widely known and its justice unquestioned. To rebut his accusations singly would be fruitless, because unnecessary. Their general untruth has long been known. Much time was occupied by Oates and Tonge in reducing their bulk to the shape, first of forty-three, then of eighty-one articles. Oates took a lodging in Vauxhall, near Sir Richard Barker’s house, where Tonge dwelt. Together they drafted and copied until all was prepared. Nothing lacked but a proper flourish for the introduction of so grand an event.
For this a pretty little comedy was arranged. Oates was to keep behind the scenes while Tonge rang up the curtain. Nor did Tonge wish to expose himself too soon to vulgar light. He procured an acquaintance, Mr. Christopher Kirkby, to act as prologue. Kirkby was a poor gentleman of good family, interested in chemistry, and holding some small appointment in the royal laboratory. Their common taste for science probably accounted for his relation with Tonge; and since he was known to the king, he could now do the doctor good service. On August 11, 1678 Oates thrust a copy of the precious manuscript under the wainscot of a gallery in Sir Richard Barker’s house. There Tonge found it, and on the following day read it to Kirkby, who declared in horror at the contents that the king should be informed. He would take this part upon himself, he said. Accordingly on August 13, as Charles was starting for his accustomed walk in St. James’ Park, Kirkby slipped a note into his hand begging for a short audience on a matter of vital importance. The king read it and called Kirkby to ask what he meant. “Sire,” returned the other, “your enemies have a design against your life. Keep within the company, for I know not but you may be in danger in this very walk.” “How may that be?” asked the king. “By being shot at,” answered Kirkby, and desired to give fuller information in some more private spot. Charles bade him wait in his closet, and finished his stroll with composure.[22]