Of this correspondence nearly two hundred letters have been preserved. The insight which they give into the minds and intentions of their writers is invaluable. They throw a strong light upon the undercurrent of political movement at a time when politics were perhaps more complicated and their undercurrents more potent than at any time before or after. From them might be detailed the tenor of the designs undertaken by a great religious party during a period of fierce struggle. Such reconstruction from a fragmentary correspondence must always be difficult. In the case of the Coleman correspondence the difficulty would be great. That the letters can be read at all is due to the fact that the key to the cipher in which they are written was found with them. Not only were they written in an arbitrary cipher, not to be elucidated without the key, but in such guarded and metaphorical language that the meaning can often be caught only by chance or conjecture.[54] Parables can easily be understood after the events to the arrangements for which they refer; but when no effect follows, the drift is more obscure. When before the Spanish Armada an English agent writes from Spain that bales of wool are being stored in large quantities, muniments of war may be read between the lines. When Jacobites give notice to their exiled king that Mr. Jackson need only appear in Westminster Hall to recover his estate, or that a cargo of the right sort, now in great demand, must be shipped at once, their meaning is transparent. But to the obscure terms used by Coleman and his friends after events afford a slighter clue. No notion discussed by them was ever tested as a practicable scheme in action. Neither success nor exposure sheds light whereby to read their letters. Whatever is in them must be painfully read as intention alone, and as intention abandoned. The general ideas however are plain, and an admirable exposition by Coleman himself saves the necessity of piecing them together from small fragments.
On September 29, 1675 he wrote a long letter to Père de la Chaize relating in some detail the history of the intrigues of the previous years.[55] Catholic ascendency in England and a general peace in favour of France were the objects for which he had worked. For these the dissolution of Parliament and money were necessary, money both to dissolve Parliament and to supply the king’s wants. Next to Parliament Lord Arlington was the Duke of York’s greatest enemy; for Arlington was the supporter, if not the promoter of the Test Act.[56] In response to this beginning Père Ferrier had sent a note to the duke through Sir William Throckmorton. In agreement with James it was Louis XIV’s opinion that Arlington and the Parliament formed a great obstacle to their joint interest; and if the duke could succeed in dissolving the present Parliament, he would lend the assistance of his power and purse to procure another better suited to their purpose. The duke replied to Ferrier in person, and Coleman answered too. Their letters were to the same effect. The French king’s offer was most generous and highly gratifying, but money was needed at the moment as urgently as thereafter, for without money a dissolution could not be obtained, and without a dissolution everything done so far would be nugatory. So far as money went it was possible to consult Ruvigny, the ambassador in England; further not, for Ruvigny was a Protestant. Eulogies of Throckmorton and Coleman passed from Ferrier to James and back, each expressing to the other his confidence in their agents.[57] At this time, said Coleman, Charles II was undecided and felt the arguments for and against dissolution equally strong. But if a large sum such as £300,000 had been offered to him on condition that Parliament should be dissolved, he would certainly have accepted both money and condition. Peace would then be assured, with other advantages to follow. Logic built upon money, wrote Coleman, had more charms at the court of St. James than any other form of reasoning.[58] To obtain this money Coleman and his associates had worked hard. Not only did Coleman write to Ferrier about it and talk to Ruvigny about it in London, but he made Throckmorton press for it in Paris, and press Pomponne, the French secretary of state, as well as the confessor. Twice Throckmorton persuaded Pomponne to speak particularly to Louis on the subject, and once he sent a memoir for the king’s perusal. Louis returned it with expressions of great interest in the duke’s cause and the message “that he should always be ready to join and work with him.” Also Pomponne was bidden to say that he had orders to direct Ruvigny “that he should take measures and directions from the duke,” especially in what concerned the dissolution of Parliament, Louis, he said, was most sensible of the need for energy and caution and gave the greatest consideration to the matter.[59] At the same time Sheldon was pressing the French king’s confessor.[60] Still the money did not come. One excuse after another was made. Pomponne declared that so great a sum as that demanded could not possibly be spared by Louis; and Throckmorton believed that this was so; but he was compelled to admit that another campaign would cost perhaps ten times as much. The foreign secretary also complained that the duke did not appear sufficiently in the movement himself. He was answered by Coleman that James had ceased negotiating with the ambassador as Ruvigny gave so little help, but he was in communication with Ferrier. Coleman thought that Ruvigny’s backwardness was deliberate. Sheldon and Throckmorton were of the same opinion, and Throckmorton suggested as an alternative that a subscription should be raised from the Catholics; £50,000 he thought might be promised from France, and he hoped for twice that sum in England.[61]
While Coleman was begging from the French court and declaring his exclusive devotion to the interests of France, he was at the same time urging the papal nuncio to obtain money from the Pope and the Emperor and renouncing all designs except that of forwarding the Catholic cause in the Pope’s behalf. Albani was moderately enthusiastic. The Emperor commanded him to assure the Duke of York of the passionate zeal he entertained for his service and the Catholic cause. The Pope too would assist in matters in which he might properly appear. But James must himself point the direction of the assistance to be granted. Coleman replied that he had already shewn the way. Money alone was needed to procure the dissolution of Parliament. Dissolution would mean peace abroad and Catholic ascendency in England to the great advantage of the Pope, the Emperor, and the whole Church. It was incumbent on the Emperor and more especially on the Pope to open wide the purse for so fair a prospect.[62] The nuncio was not however to be carried away by emotion. Money could not be expended by the Pope upon such vague expectation. He had others to think of in greater straits than the English Catholics. Before the matter could be submitted to Rome more definite guarantees must be given that the Catholic cause would really be served. In any case what the Pope could afford would be nothing in comparison to what was needed.[63] Coleman continued to press, even to the point of Albani’s annoyance.[64] Repetition of the same arguments merely met the same reply; and when by command of the Duke of York Coleman paid a secret visit to Brussels to interview the nuncio, the result was no better.[65]
So the shuttlecock was beaten backwards and forwards between London, Paris, and Brussels. Writing to La Chaize Coleman naturally made no mention of his correspondence with the nuncio. Different arguments had to be used in the two quarters. To Albani Coleman vowed his undying affection for the Pope, to the Jesuit an extremity of devotion for French interests. Neither the one nor the other had the desired effect. Advice and encouragement were forthcoming, but not pistoles. The bashfulness of Coleman’s correspondents is not hard to understand. Albani gave his reasons brutally enough. Those at the court of Versailles were probably of the same nature. And here they had additional force, for if on general grounds the French were unlikely to pay, they were still less likely to support the Duke of York with doubtful advantages at a time when they could obtain their chief object by subsidising his brother the king. No one of business habits would pour his gold into English pockets without reasonable expectation of a proportionate return. The English pocket had the appearance of being constructed upon a principle contrary to that of Fortunatus’ purse.
The scheme for which support was thus begged from whoever seemed likely to give was not promising to any but an enthusiast. Money was wanted certainly to bring Charles to the dissolution of Parliament, an idea which was constantly in the air at court. The Cavalier Parliament was an uncompromising opponent of Popery, and the Catholics bore it a heavy grudge. But dissolution in itself would hardly improve their own position. The design reached considerably farther than that. It was no less than to bribe the king to issue another declaration of indulgence, appoint the Duke of York again to the office of Lord High Admiral, and leave the whole management of affairs to his hands.[66] In the course of the next year a new parliament should be assembled, bribed to support the French and Catholic interest, and the Catholic position in England would be assured. James was an able and popular officer and enjoyed great authority in the navy. Supposing the stroke could be effected, he would occupy a position not only of dignity but of power to meet any attack that might be made upon his new state. The scheme was so far advanced that Coleman drew up a declaration for the king to issue setting forth his reasons for a dissolution, and solemnly protesting his intention to stand by the Protestant religion and the decisions of the next parliament. That was to be before the end of February 1675.[67]
Although Coleman wrote to the nuncio that the Catholics had never before had so favourable an opportunity, the design was shortly modified and deferred.[68] In its present shape the possibility of putting it to the test depended upon the good-will of the ministers. After the dissolution of Parliament their assistance would be necessary. Without it nothing could be done. If Parliament were dissolved and the ministers stopped the execution of all that was to follow, the last state would be worse than the first. And it now became evident that matters were in just that case. Whatever the Cabal might have done, it was certain that those who followed would have no hand in exalting the Duke of York’s power. Danby, whose watchword was Monarchy and No Toleration, was now firmly fixed in authority. Early in February a proclamation was issued ordering the execution of the penal laws, whetted against Roman Catholics by the promise of reward to informers; young men were to be recalled from Catholic seminaries abroad, subjects were forbidden to hear mass in the chapels of foreign ambassadors, all English priests were banished from the kingdom.[69] The effect of the proclamation was chiefly moral; but the worst consequences might be expected from the Non-Resistance bill, now in active preparation for the April session. Should this be passed, Catholic, Presbyterian, and Whig alike would be excluded from all part in the management of affairs, and the royal Church of England would triumph. The Duke of York’s party veered round and adopted the cause of parliament as a bulwark for themselves against the ministerial attack. The moment was critical for all concerned. A golden age seemed to have arrived for the Commons. Money was showered lavishly on them. Fortune rained every coinage in Europe. Danby, the Bishops, the Dutch, and the Spanish ambassador did battle with their rouleaux against the Catholics, the Nonconformists, the French ambassador and theirs. The scenes in Parliament were unprecedented, and have since scarcely been surpassed. Swords were drawn and members spat across the floor of the House. In the House of Lords the king appeared regularly at the debates to exert a personal influence on his peers, and was likened to the sun, scorching his opponents. Here Charles and Danby had the advantage, and after seventeen days the bill was sent down to the Commons; but Shaftesbury, who had fought with the utmost resolution, seized his opportunity to foment the old dispute between the Houses as to the right of appeal to the Lords, with such success that the session had to be closed before the bill could be introduced, Parliament was prorogued, and the Test vanished for ever.[70] Coleman and his friends breathed again and proceeded to adapt their programme to the new situation. Since dissolution would not help them, they would mould Parliament to their design. At the moment the Duke of York’s position was as precarious as before; but, wrote Coleman to La Chaize, “if he could gain any considerable new addition of power, all would come over to him as the only steady centre of our government, and nobody would contend with him further. Then would Catholics be at rest and his most Christian Majesty’s interest be secured with us in England beyond all apprehensions whatsoever. In order to this we have two great designs to attempt the next sessions. First, that which we were about before, viz. to put Parliament upon making it their humble request to the king that the fleet may be put in his royal highness’ care.[71] Secondly, to get an act for general liberty of conscience.” Coleman had already spoken to Ruvigny on the subject; the ambassador was not enthusiastic, but he admitted the advantages that would ensue to France. Twenty thousand pounds, thought Coleman, would ensure success; and success would be “the greatest blow to the Protestant religion here that ever it received since its birth.”[72] La Chaize answered briefly, promising to give the matter consideration and desiring to hear more from his correspondent.[73] Coleman rejoined in his last letter to the confessor that has been preserved. He engaged to write whenever occasion arose, and sent La Chaize a cipher for use between themselves; and for greater security he would write between lines of trivial import in lemon juice, legible when held to the fire. Only that part of the business not relating to religion could be discussed with Ruvigny, continued Coleman; and then, coming to the point, “We have here a mighty work upon our hands, no less then the conversion of three kingdoms, and by that perhaps the subduing of a pestilent heresy, which has domineered over great part of this northern world a long time; there were never such hopes of success since the death of Queen Mary as now in our days, when God has given us a prince who is become (may I say, a miracle) zealous of being the author and instrument of so glorious a work.... That which we rely upon most, next to God Almighty’s providence and the favour of my master the duke, is the mighty mind of his most Christian Majesty.”[74]
The significance of this is beyond doubt. It has been the custom of historians, quoting the last passage alone, to belittle its importance as the exaggerated outpouring of a zealot’s fancy. Taken with the context it is seen to be something very different. The words only express more clearly what was often hinted at and half outspoken in the correspondence which led up to this point. Jesuit agents and the Duke of York’s confidential secretary, for such in fact Coleman was, had something more to do than to entertain themselves by writing at length and in cipher to all parts of Europe with no other intention than to express their hopes for the propagation of the Catholic faith in a manner quite detached from politics, or to discuss political schemes as matters of speculative interest; such things are not done for amusement. Coleman’s phrases are pregnant with real meaning. They are to be understood literally. The design which his letters sketch was in substance the same as that afterwards put into practice when the Duke of York ascended the throne as James II. Under the guise of a demand for liberty of worship, it was a design to turn England into a Roman Catholic state in the interest of France and the Jesuits, and by the aid of French money. The remark of Halifax that dissenters only plead for conscience to obtain power was eminently true of his own time. No less true was it that those who separated themselves from the religion of the state aimed at the subversion of it.[75]
High treason, be it remarked, is the only crime known to the law in which the intention and not the act constitutes the offence. The famous statute of Edward III had defined as the most important treasons the compassing or imagining of the king’s death, the levying of war against the king, and adherence to the king’s enemies within the realm or without.[76] An act passed at the height of power of one of the most powerful monarchs who have reigned in England was insufficient for the needs of those whose position was less secure. The severity of repeated enactments under Henry VIII to create new treasons, and perhaps the difficulty of meeting attempts against the crown by statutory definition, rendered this method of supplying the want unpopular and unsatisfactory. So in the reign of Queen Elizabeth the extension of the statute of Edward III by construction became the settled mode of procedure. With the lapse of time the scope of constructive treason was extended. Coke laid down that an overt act witnessing the intention to depose or imprison the king or to place him in the power of another was sufficient to prove the compassing and imagining his death. Conspiracy with a foreign prince to invade the realm by open hostility, declared by an overt act, is evidence of the same.[77] Hale held conspiracy, the logical end of which must be the death or deposition of the king, even though this were not the direct intention, to be an act of high treason. To levy war against the king is an overt act of treason; conspiracy to levy war is thus an overt act of treason by compassing the king’s death. To restrain the king by force, to compel him to yield certain demands, to extort legislation by terror and a strong hand, in fact all movements tending to deprive him of his kingly government, whether of the nature of personal pressure or of riot and disturbance in the country, are acts of treason. To collect arms, to gather company, to write letters are evidence of the intention of the same.[78] Treason by adherence to the king’s enemies was equally expansive. Thus it has been held, says Sir James Stephen, “that to imagine the king’s death means to intend anything whatever which under any circumstances may possibly have a tendency, however remote, to expose the king to personal danger or to the forcible deprivation of any part of the authority incidental to his office.”[79] In 1678 a question was put to the judges by the Attorney-General: “Whether it be not high treason to endeavour to extirpate the religion established in this country, and to introduce the Pope’s authority by combination and assistance of foreign power?” The judges were unanimous in their opinion that it was treason.[80] And in the case of Lord Preston in 1691 it was held that taking a boat at Surrey Stairs in Middlesex in order to board a ship off the coast of Kent, and convey to the French king papers containing information on the naval and military state of England, with the purpose of helping him to invade the realm, was an overt act of treason by compassing and imagining the death of the king.[81]
Doubt cannot exist as to the dangerous consequence of the correspondence carried on by Coleman. Under the most favourable interpretation it reveals a design to accomplish again by means of bribery what the English nation had already rejected as illegal and unconstitutional, a deed which was said to have broken forty acts of Parliament,[82] to give the sanction of authority to a religion which was banned and to priests who were under doom of high treason. And the most favourable interpretation is certainly not the most just. Those “great designs ... to the utter ruin of the Protestant party,” which should “drive away the Parliament and the Protestants ... and settle in their employments the Catholics,” refuse such a colouring.[83] At Coleman’s subsequent trial the Lord Chief Justice told him, “Your design was to bring in Popery into England and to promote the interest of the French king in this place.... Our religion was to be subverted, Popery established, and the three kingdoms to be converted”;[84] and what the Chief Justice said was true. Coleman and the party to which he belonged had designed “to extirpate the religion established in this country” by the assistance of money given by a foreign power. Such an endeavour could not be undertaken without the commission of high treason. By the theory of the constitution the king can do no wrong. Much less can he do wrong to himself. He cannot be persuaded to perform an act directed against his own person. Great persuasion or importunity addressed to the king, says Hale, cannot be held an act of treason, since an intention must be manifested to restrain or influence him by force.[85] But the king cannot be supposed of his free will to undertake measures having their end, according to the construction of the statute, in the compassing of his own death. Nor can he be supposed to be persuaded to such measures, for both cases involve a contradiction of himself. No king can be guilty of high treason. Except by Act of Parliament none in England can divest his office of any of the full authority pertaining thereto. Persuasion of the king to do so is by the nature of the case impossible, whether it be in the form of money or other. Any one who plans a fundamental change of the constitution, to be effected by money or other means except by the constitutional action of Parliament, falls under the penalty for treason none the less because he may hope for assistance from the man who is king, since the king cannot be considered to assist an unconstitutional change. Any one planning such a change, though he intends to obtain the king’s assistance, acts against the king’s authority as much as if he did not so intend, and is therefore guilty of high treason. Of such possible changes the overthrow of the Church of England is one, for the king cannot otherwise than constitutionally join in the subversion of the church of which he is head, and which he has sworn to maintain. If he is successfully persuaded to take part in such an act, the persuasion must be regarded as tantamount to force, for persuasion of the king to commit treason against himself is absurd. And the position of a man declaring his intention to accomplish this change is exactly that of Coleman and the Jesuit party in England. There can be no doubt that the subjects who took part with Charles II in the treaty of Dover were guilty of high treason, none the less because the man who was king acted in concert with them. And similarly, none the less because they expressed the intention of bribing the king to assist their design, no doubt can exist that Coleman and his associates were brought by their schemes under the penalty of the same crime.
Such was the state of the Roman Catholic designs—the real Popish Plot—in England at the close of the year 1675. The direction in which they turned during the next three years is now to seek. At the outset the chief part of the evidence fails. Until his arrest in September 1678 Coleman continued his foreign correspondence,[86] but in comparison with the letters of earlier date the portion of it preserved is meagre indeed. Above all, no such exposition of his schemes as Coleman sent to La Chaize exists to afford a clue to the tangled and mysterious allusions with which his letters abound. The only two of Coleman’s later correspondents whose letters are extant were St. Germain and Cardinal Howard. The last written by St. Germain from Paris bears the date October 15, 1678, but with this exception all his letters belong to the year 1676. They are partly occupied with business of slight connection with politics. A scheme of the Duchess of York for the increase of an English Carmelite convent at Antwerp was pressed upon the French court. Rambling intrigues undertaken for the purpose finally succeeded in breaking down Louis XIV’s reluctance, the convent was allowed to plant colonies in the French Netherlands, and the irritation caused to the duchess by the delay was allayed by a splendid present of diamonds made her in secret by the King of France.[87] St. Germain’s letters also show that intrigues were being ceaselessly carried on in the French and Jesuit interest throughout the year 1676 by Coleman and his party. They do not show at all clearly of what nature those intrigues were. After the failure in England caused by his indiscretion Coleman probably did not accord him full confidence. St. Germain’s complaints of his treatment were constant; and he was always in want of money.[88] Nor does the Italian correspondence throw much greater light. Cardinal Howard’s letters extend with somewhat longer intervals from January 1676 to the end of the following year. They tell still less of the political intrigues. The business passing through Howard’s hands was considerable. He was concerned with the difficult business of keeping the Duke of York on good terms with the Pope. Coleman’s endeavours to keep up the pretence that James was not engaged to French schemes were not uniformly successful, and on the death of Clement X Howard received definite orders from home to vote in the conclave with the French party. Yet the task was accomplished with some adroitness. Howard was able to persuade the Pope that the marriage of Mary of York to the Prince of Orange was not due to her father’s fault, and on another occasion obtained a letter from James to Innocent XI of such sweetness that “the good man in reading it could not abstain from tears.” Sinister rumours were afloat at Rome of the duke’s Jesuit connection, and repeated warnings were sent that, if they proved true, his cause would be ruined. There were even grave doubts as to the genuine character of his faith. For some time the troublesome conduct of an English Protestant agent at Florence occupied Howard’s attention. The Inquisition bestirred itself in the matter. A triangular correspondence between Howard, Coleman, and Lord Arundel resulted in the man’s recall and led them to debate the possibility of a match between the Princess Anne and the son of the Duke of Florence. Another source of continual trouble was Prince Rinaldo d’Este in his quest for a cardinal’s hat. While his niece, the Duchess of York, backed by a special envoy from the court of Modena, was worrying the French ambassador in London for Louis XIV’s support, Coleman applied directly to Howard at Rome. Promises of consideration for the matter were all that could be obtained. The prince, who had no claims other than those of family, afterwards gained his object by constant importunity. Courtin had information that the Spanish ambassador had offered the Duke of York the whole credit of Spain for the prosecution of Rinaldo’s suit if he would quit the French interest, and therefore could not risk the result of a definite refusal; but neither Paris nor Rome manifested at this time the slightest intention to support the Modenese pretensions.[89] Cardinal Howard was in fact the official correspondent of the English Catholic party at Rome, and beyond the general business of helping in the amelioration of Catholic conditions and the improvement of the relations between different sections of the party, had little to do with particular schemes that might be fostered by one or another. Thus the literary evidence on the development of Roman Catholic policy in England is of the slightest. Accessible documents give little information. Nothing can be known exactly. The course of events between the years 1675 and 1678 cannot be elucidated by aid of the evidence of those who shaped it. The argument must be from the known to the unknown.