The Strange Death of Edmund Godfrey

by Alan Marshall

  The political whirlwind that was the Popish Plot ruined Danby, like so many others. Revelations over his secret dealings with France led to calls for his impeachment and the king was forced to place his minister in the Tower of London in 1679 to save him. This was a low point in Danby’s life; he was to spend the next few years there.26 None the less he still retained some authority and continued to dabble in political scheming. Attempts were made in 1680, possibly at Danby’s behest, to destroy the reputation of the Duke of Buckingham, then prominent as a leader of the Whig opposition. Edward Christian was by now also eager to damage his old master, against whom he retained a grudge, and seems to have provided money to suborn witnesses to accuse the duke of sodomy, a crime of grave significance.27 Two Irishmen, Philomen Coddan and John Ryther, were to swear that Buckingham had committed sodomy on one Sarah Harwood and then sent her into France. Further witnesses were to emerge in the shape of Philip Le Mar and his mother Frances Loveland. The former was a not very bright young man who had fallen into the hands of sponsors cruder and more dangerous than himself. His mother joined him in the accusations in what seems to have been an unusual show of maternal affection. As the mud flew in all directions, the various parties attempted to make political capital out of the affair. Robert Spencer, Earl of Sunderland, the Secretary of State, was incriminated in the affair and insisted that Le Mar be rigorously examined. During this interrogation Le Mar revealed the names of the Earl and Countess of Danby. It was alleged that Le Mar had been offered £300 by the couple to swear the crime of sodomy against Buckingham.

  Coddan and Ryther’s design was laid along different lines. Coddan knew another Irishman by the name of Maurice Hickey, alias Higgins, or Higges. According to his own version of events, he and Hickey had come down to London in 1679 and settled in Long Acre, near Westminster, where they raised some suspicion by their frequent loud talk and conversations in Gaelic. The target of their scheme was Samuel Ryther, whom they intended to use to swear against Buckingham in exchange for copious amounts of drink and money. As soon as Ryther had signed a paper to the effect that he knew that Buckingham had committed sodomy on Sarah Harwood, he was to be kept close in case he should change his mind. Ryther, as it turned out, was a man given to changing his mind quite frequently. Coddan was to play the role of the second witness and was willing to swear anything as long as he was well paid. Hickey was the brains behind the group, although he was also being told what to say and do by his sponsors. As Ryther proved increasingly fearful and uncooperative, one Thomas Curtis entered the plot. Curtis’s involvement leads us to the real object of our inquiry: Thomas Blood.28

  As a former soldier, intriguer, crown stealer and double agent, the Irishman Thomas Blood was talented at this sort of plotting.29 By the mid-1670s he was associated with many at the Court. He had settled down there into a position of special agent and ‘gun for hire’. In the course of a long career on both sides of the law, Blood had been used by Danby, the Duke of York, Buckingham and the secretary of state’s office. Born in Sarney, County Meath, around 1618 as the son of a blacksmith and ironworker, he lost his lands during the civil wars in Ireland, served in England as a Royalist soldier then deserted the king’s cause in 1650 and joined that of parliament. During the Restoration, affairs in Ireland did not go well for him and he resorted to the usual course for the discontented: plotting against the regime. The collapse of the Dublin plot of 1663, in which Blood had been heavily involved, forced him to go on the run. He spent much of the later 1660s involved in plotting and espionage activities of one sort or another on both sides of the political divide.

  He may well have been working for the government at one point as a double agent, but in July 1667 he made a genuine name for himself in a successful ambush to rescue his friend and fellow plotter Captain John Mason from a group of soldiers who were escorting Mason to York. In 1670 Blood engaged in a second spectacular venture by ambushing and launching a failed kidnap attempt upon the prominent royal minister James Butler, Duke of Ormonde, in the streets of London, probably at the behest of Ormonde’s great enemy Buckingham. Most famously, of course, in 1671 Blood, heavily disguised as a parson, had attempted another spectacular coup by trying to steal the crown jewels from the Tower of London. Having been caught, he managed to talk his way out of this act of treason and even made a profit into the bargain.30

  Given this background, Blood seems a potential candidate for engineering the killing of Edmund Godfrey. He had just the right amount of wit to make the more bizarre elements of the murder work. He knew of the magistrate’s connection with Peyton’s gang, for he had apparently investigated that gang on behalf of the government. Blood also knew Oates later on, and according to one source had planned to upset the informer’s credibility by planting treasonable letters in Oates’s papers. Nor was Blood sympathetic to crazy old Israel Tonge, especially as the latter was fond of blaming him for starting the Great Fire of London.

  Blood was also involved in the plot in 1680 against Buckingham, where he seems to have acted as a go-between for the Irish plotters Coddan and Ryther and Christian. And Christian, of course, was Danby’s servant. In the game of double bluff that followed, Coddan and Ryther soon changed sides and betrayed the scheme to Buckingham’s lawyer Mr Whitaker, whereupon Hickey fled and Blood and Christian were arrested. After a series of engineered delays on both sides, with disappearing witnesses and other mysterious events, Christian, Blood, Le Mar, Curtis, Hickey and three others were tried at the King’s Bench. It was this case that brought a premature end to Blood’s career, for in prison the 62-year-old adventurer caught a fever, and, even though he was eventually released, he died on 24 August 1680.31

  What part, if any, did Thomas Blood play in the Godfrey affair? Both Blood and Christian were certainly capable of murder and were thus a logical choice to resolve the Lord Treasurer Danby’s little problem. As we have seen, Danby was one of the men most accused at the time of involvement in Godfrey’s death. Unfortunately, these accusations were mixed up with political mudslinging from a number of very dubious Irish informers imported on to the English scene by Shaftesbury. But, in reality, Danby had no real need to have the magistrate killed. In fact, he had plenty of reasons to keep Godfrey alive. Godfrey’s part in the plot could have been used to prove just how far the design had proceeded in the corruption of a Protestant magistrate. Godfrey could also have been useful at a witness in any future trials. In the end this solution to the mystery remains far too complicated. Not only does Godfrey have to have been in the right place but also the right men have to have been hired. It would have needed more than one man to do the job, and presumably Danby was not going to kill Godfrey himself. This would certainly mean the involvement of still more untrustworthy individuals who would undoubtedly have revealed the scheme when Danby fell from power. We have already seen how the plan to damage Buckingham’s reputation fell apart in a welter of betrayal, and this was merely libel! So although Danby did have the contacts to do the job there is no real evidence against him. In any case even if Danby did order it, or if it was done on his behalf, why the elaboration on the body? Surely it would have been simpler to merely kill Godfrey, dump him in the Thames, and blame the Catholics? Moreover, it is one thing to have been angry at Godfrey’s interference and quite another to have him murdered in a fit of pique. Finally, it was altogether too dangerous for Danby to allow an act such as this to be committed. It would have been a huge gamble that would have been quite out of character for the Lord Treasurer and this in the end rules him out.

  However, about Thomas Blood we are entitled to some further speculation. In fact the nature of the death and some of its more outré aspects do smack of Blood’s previous modus operandi. The problem here is that although he is a striking and previously unused candidate for the killing no evidence actually exists of him having had any part in the scheme whatsoever. In order to blame Blood for the murder we would need to discover who his sponsors were, for he would not have done it for his own purpo
ses. This, given his penchant for obscuring his trail in these years, is virtually impossible at this late date. Besides no contemporary linked him with the crime, which is surprising given his past, although his name was mentioned in some of Oates’s writings. On a more positive note we do know that at this time Blood was being drawn further than ever before into the squalid and unstable London world that informers such as Oates and Bedloe inhabited.32 In the down-at-heel gin shops, taverns and low gambling dens of this world a shrewd man like Blood could pick up much intelligence. In a part of London inhabited by rather unsavoury thugs, pimps, prostitutes and weakwilled liars, such quarrelling criminal folk occasionally came across a little bit of the truth which Blood, with his connections, was able to sell on elsewhere. We also know that from 1678 to 1680 he was either at the centre or on the periphery of a number of sham plots that emerged and during this part of his career we can find him working for the king, Sir Joseph Williamson, the Secretary of State, his old master, the Duke of York and even Danby. It remains entirely speculation but if anyone could have perpetrated such a crime as Godfrey’s killing in such a bizarre manner then it probably was Thomas Blood. Conversely if anyone could have solved such a crime then it was probably the same man.

  THE WHIG CAUSE

  One of the many theories that have surfaced over the years was that Godfrey was murdered to make the Popish Plot look more successful than it really was. According to this scheme, Godfrey was a convenient corpse to be manipulated. Panic would set in at the death of a Protestant magistrate and this could have been used by the murderer’s sponsors for their own designs. The Roman Catholics would take up the theme of suicide when the actual evidence pointed another way, and this in turn would make them look even guiltier of trying to cover up the murder. This idea is, of course, applicable to many interested parties. Among them was Shaftesbury, who intended to use the plot for his own purposes before anyone else could do so. However, Shaftesbury only came up to London in time for parliament and after Godfrey’s death, and in the end he seems as unlikely a candidate as his opponent Danby. Both men, in fact, sought to exploit the situation but did not cause it. It is possible of course, but equally unlikely, that Shaftesbury provided the backing for the killers. Ultimately, however, Shaftesbury was a cool and calculating politician who merely seized the opportunities given to him.33

  The late Stephen Knight put forward a different proposition for this ‘Whig’ side of the affair. He concentrated on the so-called Peyton gang.34 We have met this group before. Its leader was Sir Robert Peyton and Godfrey had at one time been associated with it. It was made up of pseudo-Republican opposition members with links to the City of London. That they were hostile to Danby, his regime and French influence is clear, but in his version of the plot Knight has them assisting Oates and Tonge in nursing along the latters’ scheme. Knight claimed that the gang was indeed the mysterious ‘honourable friends’ who pointed the pair in the direction of Godfrey as a suitable magistrate to read their evidence. Knight’s interpretation failed in certain respects. First of all, why choose Edmund Godfrey when there were other more rabid anti-Catholic magistrates available, such as Sir William Waller?35 Knight also saw Godfrey baulking at the scheme laid out by the ‘gang’ and then going on to betray them all to Edward Coleman, and thus the Duke of York. For that, naturally, he had to die, for he also knew too much about the group. He knew not only of their plotting but also that they had also taken bribes from the French ambassador. Thus Godfrey was doubly damned. He had not only betrayed the Peyton gang, but also the plot itself. Knight’s speculation then led him to suppose that, strangely enough for a group of men only recently planning the overthrow of a government, they were unwilling to kill their former friend themselves. Instead they decided to hire a professional man to arrange Godfrey’s murder in such a way as to lay the blame on the Catholics. Knight claimed that Peyton and friends hired none other than John Scott to do the deed.36

  John Scott, a double agent, informer and bête noir of Samuel Pepys, has attracted speculation over the years about his involvement in the killing of Godfrey. Sir John Pollock was to use Scott’s ramblings to bolster his theory that the Popish Plot had a basis in fact. Under the name of John Johnson, Scott was arrested in April 1679, and on interrogation he revealed that in Paris the late Roman Catholic Earl of Berkshire had made a substantial deathbed confession to him of a plot much like that revealed by Oates. Moreover, he had implicated Coleman, Bellasis and others. Unfortunately Pollock knew little enough of Scott’s background when he used him as a reliable witness. In fact, Scott was something of a dual personality. He could be charming when he wished; he was a writer of poetry and a gentleman of wit. On the other hand, there was a darker side to this man. He was a foul-mouthed, drunken misanthrope, a rogue, liar and a coward, a man whom few, if any, could trust, and those who did were often singularly disappointed.

  Scott’s career began inauspiciously enough in the Americas37 to where he had been transported as a child. In his adult life Scott acquired a bad reputation in the colonies; he deserted his wife and ended up in gaol. He reappeared on the English scene in 1660 when he returned home on behalf of some respectable New Englanders. While Scott was in England he was introduced to Sir Joseph Williamson; the latter took a keen interest in colonial matters. One of Scott’s more legitimate talents was as a cartographer, and one of Williamson’s interests was maps, so their acquaintance prospered. Scott then returned to America, but not before he had perpetrated a confidence trick on a Quaker couple and gained possession of their son, whom he then rather imprudently sold to a New Haven innkeeper. After various adventures, Scott left for the West Indies where he took a commission in Sir Thomas Bridges’ regiment. There he saw some action in the disastrous English military expedition to St Kitts to fight the French. When in action he was accused of cowardice, having apparently left his men in the lurch and hid behind some rocks: they were captured and he was court-martialled. In the event Scott was soon back in England once more. Over the next few years he remained close to the regime’s secretariat, despite spending some time in the Gatehouse prison, and in 1669 he re-emerged within the Republican exile community in the Netherlands as a spy. He remained a soldier and eventually became a colonel in the Dutch army. None the less Scott’s main activity for the next few years was espionage. He served as a professional agent for a number of masters and regimes. He acted as a spy for the Stuarts, as well as for the Dutch Republic and the French government of Louis XIV. He spent much of 1678 going back and forth across the Channel to haunt the entourage of the Duke of Buckingham and other groups opposed to Danby.38 He was also gathering intelligence for Louis XIV’s government. It was while he was thus engaged that Thomas Blood, acting on behalf of the government at this point, picked up some intelligence about Scott’s associates. One of Blood’s sources was a tobacconist by the name of John Harrison. According to him, Scott had many friends among Buckingham’s minions and the London-based extremists. This may also have been linked to another alleged plot that combined three extreme groups: the Fifth Monarchists, the ‘atheists’ and Sir Robert Peyton and his ‘gang’, one of whom, of course, had been Edmund Godfrey.

  Beyond this connection there is little else to link Scott with Godfrey.39 We do know that Scott had made Godfrey’s acquaintance in the late 1660s. This was not surprising, as both men had been within the precincts of the court. We also know that Scott was behaving very oddly in the week of Godfrey’s death – in fact he abruptly left London two days before the body was discovered. He later claimed that he had fled the city because he had heard he was to be ‘clapped up and starved’. Although there was little reason for him to believe this according to the public statements issued by the two secretaries of state, we know that in private both Sir Joseph Williamson and Henry Coventry, his partner in the secretariat, were having Scott watched. Scott later admitted that he had been travelling the coasts of Sussex and Kent gathering intelligence that summer and had stayed with Sir Francis Rolle, a Mem
ber of Parliament who had previously taken money from the French government. So while there was reason enough for Scott to leave at that time, the Stuart regime was already on his trail, and there was little reason for him to depart in such a dramatic fashion especially while using the surprising alias of ‘Godfrey’. It is also true that Scott’s espionage activities were sufficiently interesting for Samuel Pepys to become involved in attempts to capture him. Pepys mistakenly believed that Scott was a Jesuit priest, and was later to suffer from Scott’s malice because of this when the latter accused him of selling naval secrets to the French. More than this, there is little real evidence to link Godfrey with Scott – a secret agent with interests far beyond that of a troubled magistrate from St Martin’s-in-the-Fields.40

  In Knight’s version of events, of course, Scott cuts a much more prepossessing figure. Indeed, Knight believed that having been hired by Peyton to get rid of Godfrey, Scott did not take the more logical route of hiring a professional killer from the criminal classes. While such men could be relatively easily found in some parts of London, this would have been too obvious. Instead, Knight believed that he used the mad Earl of Pembroke, who although he bore Godfrey a grudge, as we shall see, tended to attract attention to himself. Pembroke having killed Godfrey, Scott arranged for the body to be dumped on Primrose Hill and fled the scene. Where does this leave us? To answer that question, we must now examine the next suspect: Philip Herbert, Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery.41