NEWSPAPER COMMENTS.
Of the London street scenes enacted during the proceedings there is this record of two (towards the close of the trial), taken from the ‘Weekly Journal’ of May 18th:—‘The bishop was remanded to the Tower about five in the evening, attended not only by his Guards, but several Volunteers, both Whigs and Tories, between whom, near Temple Bar, there happened a small skirmish to the disadvantage of the latter; and yesterday his lordship was for the last time carried up to the House of Lords to hear the King’s Counsel’s reply to his lordship’s defence; and, being remanded about nine, considerable numbers of both parties above named met and engaged in a pitched battle, which lasted with great violence for some time, but ended at last in the utter Rout and Confusion of those who love the b——p so well that they would willingly introduce the Pope to defend and support him. That High Church is no more, and it is to be hoped it will be a warning to them how they attempt again to force Nature against Principle.’
ATTERBURY AND LAYER.
An event occurred on the 17th of May, in the Tower, which must have cast a heavy shadow of gloom on Atterbury and the friends who crowded to see him before he left his native country for ever. Counsellor Layer was led out that morning to undergo ignominious death at Tyburn. His crime was being active in theplot of which Atterbury quietly held the threads. But Layer was indiscreet, and was condemned by his own acts and handwriting. Atterbury apparently lived the life of a quiet scholar, and seems to have taken care that neither word nor handwriting should ever be so indulged in as to expose him even to suspicion. These men were equally guilty; but, rather than say,—the prelate deserved to be hanged with the counsellor, it might be urged that the lawyer might, in mercy, have been banished with the bishop. Atterbury must have felt a pang when as good, or as bad, a gentleman as himself began the long agony from the fortress to Tyburn Field.
LAYER ON HOLBORN HILL.
Counsellor Layer, who had been convicted in November, 1722, was respited from time to time. Ministers hoped to get disclosures of importance from him, which he bravely declined to make. What promises were held out to this obstinate Jacobite in return are not known. At all events he made none. Some of ‘my lords’ were repeatedly with him, to urge him to unburthen his mind, but their urging had no effect. On the 16th of May, 1723, the evening before his execution, the Earls of Lincoln and Scarborough, and Col. Crosby, were in deep consultation with him, in the Tower, but Layer remained faithful to those by whom he had been trusted. There was, indeed, another cause for the frequent respites. Being an obstinate Jacobite, he would have been sent sooner to Tyburn, only for the pressure of his distinguished clients’ unsettled affairs. For their sake also, it was said, he was reprieved fromtime to time; and among the singular sights of the Tower in that Jacobite time, not the least singular was that of ‘Counsellor Layer, with a rope round his neck,’ transacting law business with the attorneys of his clients, and arranging matters of which he was never to see the end, yet for which he did not scruple to take the fees. But then, wine was dear, though plentiful, in prison, and a man condemned to death did not choose to be inhospitable to the visitors who sympathised with, still less in this case, to the clients who employed him. It was observed, however, that the affairs between the clients and their counsel were never likely to come to a conclusion, and Layer would not serve the Government by turning traitor. The impatient authorities at once ordered Layer to ‘travel westward,’ and he rode up Holborn Hill accordingly. But he rode up like a gentleman who had, indeed, serious business in hand, but which must not be allowed to disturb his gentlemanlike self-possession. The Jacobite agent made his last appearance in public in a fine suit of black clothes full trimmed, and his new tye wig could not have looked smarter if he had been going to be married. Seated in a sledge drawn by five horses, he went the weary way between the Tower and Tyburn. The dignified seriousness of his self-possession was not mocked by the bitterest of the Whigs who watched his passage, while many a Jacobite shed tears, yet was proud of the calm courage with which he bore his dreadful fate. In a carriage behind the sledge rode two reverend clergymen, Messrs. Berryman and Hawkins—oneof them a Nonjuror, of course. At Tyburn, as the two stood up in the cart beneath the gallows, there ensued the scene not uncommon on such occasions. The utmost liberty was given to a man, about to die, to unburthen his soul in any way he pleased. Layer made the most of the privilege. He said boldly, but without bluster, that there was no king but JamesIII.; that the so-called King George was an usurper; that it was a glorious duty to take up arms for the rightful sovereign; that there would be no joy in the land till that sovereign was restored; and that, for his own part, he was glad to die for his legitimate monarch, King James. Having said which, the Nonjuror gave the speaker absolution, the people cheered, and the once eminent and able barrister was soon beyond the reach of further suffering.
LAYER AT TYBURN.
Layer kept the word he had pledged to Colonel Williamson as he was leaving the Tower. ‘Colonel,’ he said, ‘I will die like a man.’ ‘I hope, Mr. Layer,’ replied the Deputy-Governor, ‘you will die like a Christian.’ The Jacobite counsellor fulfilled both hope and promise. Only a Whig paper or two affected to sneer at the calm courage with which he met that mortal ignominy at Tyburn.
Within a few hours of the execution, an Old Bailey bard had thrown off and published the following ‘SorrowfulLamentationof Counsellor Layer’s who was Condemned to die at London for HighTreason,’ and which is here given as a specimen of the London gutter-and-gallows poetry in the Jacobitetimes:—
LAMENTATION FOR LAYER.
Noble Hearts all around the Nation;—That do hear my wretched Fate,I’d have you lay by all confusion,—Do not meddle with the State,Let my Exit be a warning.Now unto you both great and small,My mirth is turned to grief and mourning,Thus you see poorLayer’sFall.A Counsellor I was of late,And oft I did for Justice plead,I lov’d both Noble, Rich, and Great,Till I pursu’d this fatal Deed,Who by a Woman was betray’d,And I was apprehended soon,And now I am arraign’d and cast,And thus you see poorLayer’sDoom.AtWestminsterI took my tryal,Which lasted 16 Hours long,While a multitude to hear it,There into the Court did throng;While I with Iron Fetters loaded,For my life did stand to plead,But no mercy is afforded,I must suffer for the Deed.Christopher Layer, come and answer,For what unto your Charge is laid,For listing Men for the Pretender,As by witness here is said.You have been a most rebellious Traytor,Against our Sovereign Lord the King,Answer to your Accusation,Are you guilty of the thing?I boldly for a while did plead,And spoke up on my own Defence,But yet my Case was made so plain,Guilty was I of the offence,At four a Clock all in the Morning,I was then cast for my Life,And I at Tyburn must expire,A Grief unto my dearest Wife.And my Children who lies weepingFor my most unhappy Fate,I cannot expect no pity,For the Crime that is so great,It is best to be at Quiet,I advise you one and all,Lest like me it proves your Ruin,Thus you see poor Layer’s Fall.For sure this is the Hand of HeavenSuffers me this Death to die,For to finish my intention,I could not expect; for why,Because for men so bold attempting,Many here before did die;But still I could not be at Quiet,By which I have wrought my Destiny.I hope my fall will be a warning,To all that see my fatal End,My dearest Friends they do me blame,That I the Nation should offend.My tender Wife does lie lamenting,My Children are ready to despair,I hope that this will be a warning,To all that see the fall ofLayer.When my Body it is Quarter’d,And my Head expos’d on high,I hope my fleeting Soul will dwellWith Christ for evermore on high.Farewel my dearest Wife and Children,To Heaven I you recommend,Weep not for me unhappy Creature,Think not on my fatal End.[7]
Noble Hearts all around the Nation;—That do hear my wretched Fate,I’d have you lay by all confusion,—Do not meddle with the State,Let my Exit be a warning.Now unto you both great and small,My mirth is turned to grief and mourning,Thus you see poorLayer’sFall.A Counsellor I was of late,And oft I did for Justice plead,I lov’d both Noble, Rich, and Great,Till I pursu’d this fatal Deed,Who by a Woman was betray’d,And I was apprehended soon,And now I am arraign’d and cast,And thus you see poorLayer’sDoom.AtWestminsterI took my tryal,Which lasted 16 Hours long,While a multitude to hear it,There into the Court did throng;While I with Iron Fetters loaded,For my life did stand to plead,But no mercy is afforded,I must suffer for the Deed.Christopher Layer, come and answer,For what unto your Charge is laid,For listing Men for the Pretender,As by witness here is said.You have been a most rebellious Traytor,Against our Sovereign Lord the King,Answer to your Accusation,Are you guilty of the thing?I boldly for a while did plead,And spoke up on my own Defence,But yet my Case was made so plain,Guilty was I of the offence,At four a Clock all in the Morning,I was then cast for my Life,And I at Tyburn must expire,A Grief unto my dearest Wife.And my Children who lies weepingFor my most unhappy Fate,I cannot expect no pity,For the Crime that is so great,It is best to be at Quiet,I advise you one and all,Lest like me it proves your Ruin,Thus you see poor Layer’s Fall.For sure this is the Hand of HeavenSuffers me this Death to die,For to finish my intention,I could not expect; for why,Because for men so bold attempting,Many here before did die;But still I could not be at Quiet,By which I have wrought my Destiny.I hope my fall will be a warning,To all that see my fatal End,My dearest Friends they do me blame,That I the Nation should offend.My tender Wife does lie lamenting,My Children are ready to despair,I hope that this will be a warning,To all that see the fall ofLayer.When my Body it is Quarter’d,And my Head expos’d on high,I hope my fleeting Soul will dwellWith Christ for evermore on high.Farewel my dearest Wife and Children,To Heaven I you recommend,Weep not for me unhappy Creature,Think not on my fatal End.[7]
Noble Hearts all around the Nation;
—That do hear my wretched Fate,
I’d have you lay by all confusion,
—Do not meddle with the State,
Let my Exit be a warning.
Now unto you both great and small,
My mirth is turned to grief and mourning,
Thus you see poorLayer’sFall.
A Counsellor I was of late,And oft I did for Justice plead,I lov’d both Noble, Rich, and Great,Till I pursu’d this fatal Deed,Who by a Woman was betray’d,And I was apprehended soon,And now I am arraign’d and cast,And thus you see poorLayer’sDoom.
A Counsellor I was of late,
And oft I did for Justice plead,
I lov’d both Noble, Rich, and Great,
Till I pursu’d this fatal Deed,
Who by a Woman was betray’d,
And I was apprehended soon,
And now I am arraign’d and cast,
And thus you see poorLayer’sDoom.
AtWestminsterI took my tryal,Which lasted 16 Hours long,While a multitude to hear it,There into the Court did throng;While I with Iron Fetters loaded,For my life did stand to plead,But no mercy is afforded,I must suffer for the Deed.
AtWestminsterI took my tryal,
Which lasted 16 Hours long,
While a multitude to hear it,
There into the Court did throng;
While I with Iron Fetters loaded,
For my life did stand to plead,
But no mercy is afforded,
I must suffer for the Deed.
Christopher Layer, come and answer,For what unto your Charge is laid,For listing Men for the Pretender,As by witness here is said.You have been a most rebellious Traytor,Against our Sovereign Lord the King,Answer to your Accusation,Are you guilty of the thing?
Christopher Layer, come and answer,
For what unto your Charge is laid,
For listing Men for the Pretender,
As by witness here is said.
You have been a most rebellious Traytor,
Against our Sovereign Lord the King,
Answer to your Accusation,
Are you guilty of the thing?
I boldly for a while did plead,And spoke up on my own Defence,But yet my Case was made so plain,Guilty was I of the offence,At four a Clock all in the Morning,I was then cast for my Life,And I at Tyburn must expire,A Grief unto my dearest Wife.
I boldly for a while did plead,
And spoke up on my own Defence,
But yet my Case was made so plain,
Guilty was I of the offence,
At four a Clock all in the Morning,
I was then cast for my Life,
And I at Tyburn must expire,
A Grief unto my dearest Wife.
And my Children who lies weepingFor my most unhappy Fate,I cannot expect no pity,For the Crime that is so great,It is best to be at Quiet,I advise you one and all,Lest like me it proves your Ruin,Thus you see poor Layer’s Fall.
And my Children who lies weeping
For my most unhappy Fate,
I cannot expect no pity,
For the Crime that is so great,
It is best to be at Quiet,
I advise you one and all,
Lest like me it proves your Ruin,
Thus you see poor Layer’s Fall.
For sure this is the Hand of HeavenSuffers me this Death to die,For to finish my intention,I could not expect; for why,Because for men so bold attempting,Many here before did die;But still I could not be at Quiet,By which I have wrought my Destiny.
For sure this is the Hand of Heaven
Suffers me this Death to die,
For to finish my intention,
I could not expect; for why,
Because for men so bold attempting,
Many here before did die;
But still I could not be at Quiet,
By which I have wrought my Destiny.
I hope my fall will be a warning,To all that see my fatal End,My dearest Friends they do me blame,That I the Nation should offend.My tender Wife does lie lamenting,My Children are ready to despair,I hope that this will be a warning,To all that see the fall ofLayer.
I hope my fall will be a warning,
To all that see my fatal End,
My dearest Friends they do me blame,
That I the Nation should offend.
My tender Wife does lie lamenting,
My Children are ready to despair,
I hope that this will be a warning,
To all that see the fall ofLayer.
When my Body it is Quarter’d,And my Head expos’d on high,I hope my fleeting Soul will dwellWith Christ for evermore on high.Farewel my dearest Wife and Children,To Heaven I you recommend,Weep not for me unhappy Creature,Think not on my fatal End.[7]
When my Body it is Quarter’d,
And my Head expos’d on high,
I hope my fleeting Soul will dwell
With Christ for evermore on high.
Farewel my dearest Wife and Children,
To Heaven I you recommend,
Weep not for me unhappy Creature,
Think not on my fatal End.[7]
BOLINGBROKE: ATTERBURY.
The ballad was yet being said or sung in London, when on June 1st the metropolis was startled with the news that the ‘late Lord Bolingbroke,’ as the attainted Jacobite peer was called by the Whigs, was about to be pardoned. ‘About!’ shouted a Jacobite paper, in its loudest type, ‘the pardon has already passed the seal.’ But this shout was one of indignation, for the papers of all hues seem to have agreed that my Lord Bolingbroke’s pardon was the consequence of services to King George and the existing Government, with reference to the plot for upsetting both by establishing the Pretender and a Stuart ministry in their place.
Another incident occupied the public mind, namely, the sale of Atterbury’s goods and chattels. Political partisans and votaries of fashion repaired to the episcopal palace at Bromley, and to the deanery at Westminster, as to shrines where both could indulge in their respective sentiments. At the two sales about 5,000l.were realised. ‘There was a remarkable fondness,’ says the ‘London Journal,’ sneeringly, ‘in some sort of people, to buy these goods almost at any rate; but whether from a motive of superstition or party zeal we know not; but many think both.’ It is true that numerous articles fetched four times their value; and the Jacobite journals, as well as the better natured of the opposite faction, acknowledged that the purchasers naturally desired to have some remembrance of their fallen friend.
ATTERBURY LEAVING THE TOWER.
Jacobitism ventured to look up in public, before the bishop went into exile. On the 10th of June, numbers of persons appeared in the streets wearing white roses. It was like displaying a flag of defiance against the Government. Whigs who were really loyal to ‘great Brunswick,’ and who dearly loved a fight, fell upon the white rose wearers, and many a head was broken in expiation of the offence.
On the 17th of the month, Atterbury received company in the Tower for the last time. During the whole day there was no cessation of arrivals of friends of all degrees who came to bid a last and long farewell. On the following morning, Tuesday, June 18th, which was fixed for the bishop’s departure, every avenue to the Tower was closed. The authorities were in fear of a riotous demonstration. The vicinity was densely crowded. The river was covered with boats. As Atterbury passed the window where his old acquaintance, Dr. Freind, sat (under arrest in the old matter of the Plot), the two were allowed to converse together for a quarter of an hour. In a sedan chair, preceded by the deputy-governor, and surrounded by warders, the bishop was conveyed to the King’s Stairs. ‘He was not in a lay habit, as it was reported he would be,’ says one paper, in censuring mood. ‘He was in a lay habit, a suit of grey cloth,’ says another journal. A third confirms the second, but generally adds: ‘He was waited on by two footmen,more episcoporum, in purple liveries.’ Some of the spectators boasted of the sums that had been raised for him. One sympathisinglady had subscribed 1000l., and the total was said to reach six times that amount. He had many a tender greeting from sympathising women as he passed. One of the fair enthusiasts went up to his chair and kissed his hand. She manifested a world of affectionate tenacity, and the ex-prelate was only just in time to discover that the pretty, tearfulJenny Diverhad quietly drawn a valuable ring off his finger, with her lips. The ring was saved, but Atterbury consigned her to the mob who, as the papers remark, followed the usual custom, on such occasions. They ducked her in the river. Forgiveness would have been a more appropriate act on the prelate’s part.
ATTERBURY ON THE THAMES.
In that same river lay an eight-oared navy barge, on board of which he was conveyed with humane and respectful care. The deputy-governor, and warders, with the Duke of Wharton, two of the bishop’s chaplains, and other Jacobite friends, accompanied him. His servants, baggage, and books, were in a barge which followed. Early in the afternoon the oars were dipped and the barges were steered down stream. A fleet of deeply-laden boats went in the same direction. In Long Reach lay the ‘Aldborough,’ man-of-war. As the bishop was hoisted up the side in a cradle, Captain Laurence was at the gangway, ready to receive him. The boats clustered densely round the ship, and Atterbury with gravity acknowledged the sympathy. As the officials were about to leave he gave ‘a few guineas’ to the warders; justifying the ‘few’ on the ground of the many they had received in fees and douceursfrom his visitors during his captivity. He was still in durance, for two messengers had him in charge till he landed at Calais. There, occurred the well-known incident. Atterbury and Bolingbroke crossed each other; and the bishop remarked epigrammatically: ‘We are exchanged!’
POPE AND ATTERBURY.
‘He is gone!’ wrote Pope to Blount (June 27th). ‘He carried away more learning than is left in this nation behind, but he left us more in the noble example of bearing calamity well. It is true, we want literature very much; but, pray God, we do not want patience more, if these precedents’ (Bills of Pains and Penalties) ‘prevail.’ Pope’s impatience was at this time natural. When he took final leave of the Jacobite prelate in the Tower, Atterbury remarked that he would allow his friend to say that the sentence was a just one, if Pope ever found that the bishop ‘had any concerns with that’ (the Stuart) ‘family in his exile.’ Atterbury openly and immediately took service in that very family, where, however, he found little gratitude for his fidelity.
The Duke of Wharton, in his own barge, reached the Tower stairs at midnight. One of his first acts, the next day, was to appoint as his chaplain the Rev. Mr. Moore, who had been one of Atterbury’s chaplains, and who was well-nigh as turbulent a Jacobite as Sacheverel himself.
Pope turned Bishop Atterbury to very good account, pleasurable alike to the Jacobites who admired theprelate for his politics, if for nothing besides, and to himself, for another reason. The poet possessed an original portrait of the Bishop of Rochester, the work of Sir Godfrey Kneller. There was a contemporary painter, named Worsdale, who had also been an actor, who had moreover been satirised on the stage, and who had kept, loved, lived on, and kicked the once celebrated and ever unfortunate Lætitia Pilkington. Pope got Worsdale to make copies of Kneller’s portrait of Atterbury, for three or four guineas. ‘And when,’ says Sir James Prior, in his ‘Life of Malone,’ ‘he wished to pay a particular compliment to one of his friends, he gave him an original picture of Atterbury.’ Of these original Knellers, Worsdale painted several.
LAYER’S HEAD.
Atterbury having passed away from the public gaze, there was nothing more attractive to look at than Layer’s head, which was spiked on Temple Bar. Whig caricaturists loved to show the hideous sight in a ridiculous point of view. Jacobites went to the Bar as to a sanctified shrine of martyrs. There never was a head there that did not seem to them holy. That of Layer was blown down as Mr. Pearce, of Took’s Court, a well-known nonjuring attorney and an agent for the nonjuring party, was passing. He bought the head of him who had picked it up. Dr Rawlinson, the learned Jacobite antiquary, bought it, at a high price, from Pearce, kept the skull in his study, and was buried with it in his hand. But there is a tradition that after the relic had been exhibited ina tavern, it was buried beneath the kitchen of the house, and the head of some other person was sold to Rawlinson, as that of Layer!’ Imagine,’ says a note in Nichol’s ‘Literary Anecdotes,’ ‘the venerable antiquary and his companion waking out of their slumber! How would the former be amazed and mortified on his perceiving he had been taking to his bosom, not the head of the counsellor, but the worthless pate of some strolling mendicant, some footpad, or some superannuated harlot!’
THE CO-CONSPIRATORS.
For some time, Atterbury’s speech in the Lords was cried and sold in the public streets; whereupon, the faithful magistracy had the rejoinders made by the counsel for the Crown printed and sold to counteract the effect. Atterbury’s convicted confederates, Kelly and Plunkett, were despatched, the first to Hurst Castle; the second, to Sandown Fort, Isle of Wight. The peers who had been arrested were now admitted to bail, in 20,000l.each, themselves; and four sureties in 10,000l.! For Lord North and Grey, the Marquis of Caermarthen, the Earls of Lichfield and Scarsdale, and Lord Gower answered. The sureties of the Duke of Norfolk were, first, one of the king’s ministers, the Duke of Kingston, the Earls of Carlisle and Cardigan, and Lord Howard. There were two gentlemen in the Tower involved in the plot, Thomas Cochran and Captain Dennis Kelly. Bail was taken for them, the personal at 4,000l., and four sureties in 2,000l.The Duke of Montrose, the Marquis of Caermarthen, Earl Kinnoul, and Mr. Stewart, of Hanover Square,became responsible for Cochran; and Earl Strafford, Lords Arundel and Bathurst, with ‘downright Shippen,’ for the Captain, rank Jacobites, the most of them. Dr. Mead entered into recognisances for Dr. Freind. It was a noble feeling that prompted the Prince of Wales to appoint Freind one of his physicians immediately after his liberation. That the doctor accepted the appointment was bitterly commented on by the Jacobites, who might have taken some comfort from Prince Prettyman’s life being now in the Jacobite doctor’s hands!
ATTERBURY SERVING THE CHEVALIER.
Quietly-minded people now looked for quiet times, and hoped that plots and projects of war and invasion had come to an end. But the Stuart papers show that Atterbury hoped yet to bring his king to London. In Brussels, by aid of the Papal Nuncio and one of the Ladies Howard, then at the head of an English nunnery in Belgium, the Jacobite ex-prelate secretly kept up a correspondence with James.
LETTER FROM ATTERBURY.
On October 12th, 1723, Atterbury wrote a letter to that prince, in which was the following passage:—‘I despair not of being in some degree useful to your service here, and shall be ready to change my station upon any great contingency that requires it. And I hope the present counsels and interests of foreign courts may soon produce such a juncture as may render the activity and efforts of your friends reasonable and successful.’ Again, in December, the ex-bishop thus coolly writes of an invasion of England in the Jacobite interest:—‘Providence, I hope, is now disposing everythingtowards it; and, when that happens, let the alarm be given, and, taken as loudly as it will, it will have nothing frightful in it,—nothing that can in any way balance the advantages with which such a step will plainly be attended.’
[7]The above has no date nor printer’s name. That it is inserted here is owing to the kindness of a gentleman who has contributed it from his valuable Collection of old Ballads,—Frederic Ouvry,Esq., President of the Society of Antiquaries.
[7]The above has no date nor printer’s name. That it is inserted here is owing to the kindness of a gentleman who has contributed it from his valuable Collection of old Ballads,—Frederic Ouvry,Esq., President of the Society of Antiquaries.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
LONDON: PRINTED BYSPOTTISWOODE ANDCO., NEW-STREET SQUAREAND PARLIAMENT STREET