Then were again seen in the streets faces which called up strange and terrible recollections of the days when the saints, with the high praises of God in their mouths, and a two-edged sword in their hands, had bound kings with chains, and nobles with links of iron.  Then were again heard voices which had shouted “Privilege” by the coach of Charles the First in the time of his tyranny, and had called for “justice” in Westminister Hall on the day of his trial.  It has been the fashion to represent the excitement of this period as the effect of the Popish plot.  To us it seems clear that the Popish plot was rather the effect than the cause of the general agitation.  It was not the disease, but a symptom, though, like many other symptoms, it aggravated the severity of the disease.  In 1660 or 1661 it would have been utterly out of the power of such men as Oates or Bedloe to give any serious disturbance to the Government.  They would have been laughed at, pilloried, well pelted, soundly whipped, and speedily forgotten.  In 1678 or 1679 there would have been an outbreak if those men had never been born.  For years things had been steadily tending to such a consummation.  Society was one vast mass of combustible matter.  No mass so vast and so combustible ever waited long for a spark.

Rational men, we suppose, are now fully agreed that by far the greater part, if not the whole, of Oates’s story was a pure fabrication.  It is indeed highly probable that, during his intercourse with the Jesuits, he may have heard much wild talk about the best means of re-establishing the Catholic religion in England, and that from some of the absurd daydreams of the zealots with whom he then associated he may have taken hints for his narrative.  But we do not believe that he was privy to anything which deserved the name of conspiracy.  And it is quite certain that, if there be any small portion of the truth in his evidence, that portion is so deeply buried in falsehood that no human skill can now effect a separation.  We must not, however, forget, that we see his story by the light of much information which his contemporaries did not at first possess.  We have nothing to say for the witnesses, but something in mitigation to offer on behalf of the public.  We own that the credulity which the nation showed on that occasion seems to us, though censurable indeed, yet not wholly inexcusable.

Our ancestors knew, from the experience of several generations at home and abroad, how restless and encroaching was the disposition of the Church of Rome.  The heir-apparent of the crown was a bigoted member of that church.  The reigning King seemed far more inclined to show favour to that church than to the Presbyterians.  He was the intimate ally, or rather the hired servant, of a powerful King, who had already given proofs of his determination to tolerate within his dominions no other religion than that of Rome.  The Catholics had begun to talk a bolder language than