of her sailors would soon rise on a site eminently appropriate.  Among the suburban residences of our kings, that which stood at Greenwich had long held a distinguished place.  Charles the Second liked the situation, and determined to rebuild the house and to improve the gardens.  Soon after his Restoration, he began to erect, on a spot almost washed by the Thames at high tide, a mansion of vast extent and cost.  Behind the palace were planted long avenues of trees which, when William reigned, were scarcely more than saplings, but which have now covered with their massy shade the summer rambles of several generations.  On the slope which has long been the scene of the holiday sports of the Londoners, were constructed flights of terraces, of which the vestiges may still be discerned.  The Queen now publicly declared, in her husband’s name, that the building commenced by Charles should be completed, and should be a retreat for seamen disabled in the service of their country.277

One of the happiest effects produced by the good news was the calming of the public mind.  During about a month the nation had been hourly expecting an invasion and a rising, and had consequently been in an irritable and suspicious mood.  In many parts of England a nonjuror could not show himself without great risk of being insulted.  A report that arms were hidden in a house sufficed to bring a furious mob to the door.  The mansion of one Jacobite gentleman in Kent had been attacked, and, after a fight in which several shots were fired, had been stormed and pulled down.278 Yet such riots were by no means the worst symptoms of the fever which had inflamed the whole society.  The exposure of Fuller, in February, had, as it seemed, put an end to the practices of that vile tribe of which Oates was the patriarch.  During some weeks, indeed, the world was disposed to be unreasonably incredulous about plots.  But in April there was a reaction.  The French and Irish were coming.  There was but too much reason to believe that there were traitors in the island.  Whoever pretended that he could point out those traitors was sure to be heard with attention; and there was not wanting a false witness to avail himself of the golden opportunity.

This false witness was named Robert Young.  His history was in his own lifetime so fully investigated, and so much of his correspondence has been preserved, that the whole man is before us.  His character is indeed a curious study.  His birthplace was a subject of dispute among three nations.  The English pronounced him Irish.  The Irish, not being ambitious of the honour of having him for a countryman, affirmed that he was born in Scotland.  Wherever he may have been born, it is impossible to doubt where he was bred; for his phraseology is precisely that of the Teagues who were, in his time, favourite characters on our stage.  He called himself a priest of the Established Church; but he was in truth only a deacon; and his deacon’s orders he had