“Also, Mister Defoe mentions that the Duke of Barwick comes from France with a Jacobite Irish army, which is sure to cause a deal of panic. There is nothing like an Irish threat to make Englishmen feel uneasy and resentful. And if Whitehall burns while this pamphlet be abroad, then there’s no answering for what might be done in the name of Protestantism. Especially if there are arms made available to the people.
“We must stop this pamphlet and then alert Lord Halifax.”
Early the next morning several of the money police accompanied Newton, Mister Hall and me to Bartholomew Close, by Smithfield. Armed with a warrant, we entered the premises of Mister Woodward and Mister Downing whom Oates had himself named as the printer and publisher involved in the plot, and, under the provisions of the Plate Act we impounded their printing press on the pretext that it was suspected of being a coining press. Protesting most vehemently, Woodward and Downing insisted that their press could not possibly be used for anything other than printing pamphlets, which gave Newton the excuse he needed to seize all of these pamphlets also, saying that Woodward’s pamphlets would be required as evidence to support his contention that the press was being used for printing and not coining. It was a most ingenious albeit disingenuous course of action, and taken not a moment too soon, as it later transpired that a few dozen of these incendiary pamphlets were already being distributed in London.
A day or so later we went by coach to Bushey Park to see milord Halifax.
This was the first time that I ever spoke to His Lordship, although I had often seen him at the Treasury and in Whitehall, and Newton asked me to accompany him because of the gravity of what he was going to tell His Lordship—for he was worried that even he might not be believed, the story was so fantastic.
Charles Montagu, Earl of Halifax, was about thirty-five years of age. For a while he had been a fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, which was where, despite the difference in their ages, he and Newton had become friends. Halifax had been one of those signatories to the Prince of Orange to pursue his own and his Queen’s claims to the throne of England; and it is certain he was no lover of Papists. In appearance he was a very handsome man, and the manor of Apscourt very fine also, and I was very taken by him then, for he showed me much courtesy and remarked that one of his own names was Ellis and how we were perhaps once related. Which greatly enamoured him to me.
Lord Halifax listened most carefully to Newton’s story and, when it was over, fetched us all a glass of wine himself.
“Monstrous,” he remarked, “that such a thing should be contemplated here in England, and in this century.”
“Monstrous indeed,” agreed Newton.
“They have surely forgotten how France was condemned by all of Europe for the way that they butchered those poor Huguenots. If history is, as Dionysus tells us, philosophy from examples, then it’s clear that the example has been forgotten, and the philosophy not learned.”
“Your Lordship puts it very well,” said Newton. “I have taken the liberty of preparing a list of those men we believe to be involved in this plot.”
Lord Halifax glanced at the list and hardly got further than the two names that led it, before he spoke again, most soberly.
“I see that we must proceed very carefully,” said His Lordship. “For Lord Ashley and Lord Lucas are powerful men and doubtless they would deny everything; and even against you, Doctor, their word would carry. And yet we have some time, you say?”
“Until the peace is concluded and the King returns home,” said Newton. “I do not think they will act before then.”
“Then we must bide our time,” said Lord Halifax, “and make our preparations. I shall speak to milords Somers, Wharton and Russell. I should like the Government to act as one in this matter, the matter being most delicate. For the moment you may leave these matters to me, gentlemen. In the meantime, Doctor Newton, I would have you guard your own person most carefully, for it would go ill for all our preparations against these conspirators if some harm were to befall the uncle of the delightful Miss Barton.”
This surprised me, for I had no idea that His Lordship was acquainted with that lady.
“I am beside him nearly always, milord,” said I. “And I am armed with sword and pistols. So is Mister Hall.”
“You see?” said Newton. “I am well protected.”
“That is good,” said Lord Halifax. “Nevertheless, Doctor, I should like you to stay away from the Mint until this business is over. If the Tower be full of such a dangerous contagion, it seems foolish to put yourself in the way of it. There is already so much feeling against Roman Catholics abroad in London that I do not doubt how killing you, Doctor, would work some dreadful effect upon the population. It would need only someone to come forward and swear Mister Ambrose and Mister Roettier out of their lives for the design of an assassination against the King to be the spark that would ignite the whole city in a more awful calamity than the Great Fire.
“Therefore I say to you, Doctor Newton, keep yourself from the Mint and leave these matters to me. I shall come to Jermyn Street if I need to speak with you.”
“If you think it necessary, milord,” said Newton, bowing gracefully. “We will do as you say.”
The Treaty of Ryswick that ended the war was announced in the
Having to visit Newton in Jermyn Street so much, to conduct the business of the Mint, I saw more of Miss Barton again. I saw no sign that she might still be in love with me, despite what Newton had told me. Her behaviour to me was courteous but cold; not that Newton did perceive any difference between us, for he was quite blind to how things are between men and women. Besides, Miss Barton was often out, although I knew not where, since neither she nor Mrs. Rogers, nor Newton himself, saw fit to tell me; but several times Miss Barton and Newton were guests at Halifax’s house in Bushey Park, while I remained in Jermyn Street, with Mrs. Rogers. But despite her apparent indifference to me, ’tis certain I was distracted by her, which is but a poor excuse how I managed to put the threat to Newton’s life to the back of my mind; and how he was almost murdered.
One unseasonably warm day, my master and I were encouraged to walk instead of going about our business more safely by coach; but whatever the reasons, it is certain that we had relaxed our guard. We were coming away from Whitehall, where we had been interviewing Mister Bradley, who was an under-clerk in Lord Fitzharding’s office, and Mister Marriott, who had confessed to a fraud involving the conversion of exchequer bills into specie bills, and were proceeding to The Leg, a tavern in King Street, to review our depositions, when two ruffians armed with swords came out of Boar’s Head Yard and advanced upon us with very obvious intent.
“Have a care, sir,” I yelled to Newton, and pushed him behind me.
Had there been just the one I should have drawn my own sword and engaged, but since there were two I had little alternative but to use my pistols. At the sight of these they fled into George Yard on the other side of The Leg, and believing I had them cornered, I started to follow until, thinking better of it, I turned back to King Street. It was well that I did, for both men had dived into the back door of The Leg and were now coming out of the front door immediately behind my master, with their swords raised. One of them lunged at my master, who, seeing his assailant out of the corner of his eye, twisted himself to one side, clear of the blade, which passed harmlessly through his coat.
I did not hesitate. Nor did I miss. The first man I shot through the side of the face, and though I did not kill him, it is certain he would have starved to death, such was the mutilated state of his mouth. The second I shot through the heart, which was to suppose that he had had one. Newton himself, although splashed with the blood of one of his attackers, was unhurt but quite shaken, for he trembled like a tansey pudding.
“See what he has done to my coat,” he said, putting a finger through the hole his attacker’s blade had left there.
“Better than your belly,” said I.
“True.”
At the discovery of the hole, Newton felt obliged to go into The Leg and take a glass of brandy wine to steady his nerves.
“Once again I am indebted to you, and the excellence of your marksmanship,” said Newton, who still looked
