“It would, I believe, have taken a very large bribe indeed to persuade a juror to run the risk of releasing the most dangerous man in England, and incurring Thurloe’s wrath. But, in fact, no bribe was needed; the jurors were instructed how to vote, and followed those instructions without payment. Mordaunt returned to the fray, his fame for audacity and courage enhanced, and his position unquestioned.
“By this stage it was clear to the Royalists that a traitor did exist, and must be unmasked. Thurloe, accordingly, began to hatch a plan to deflect attention onto others and protect his source of information. So he had a series of documents concocted to protect the true traitor. They used a cipher my father used, contained information he would have known. But why pick on him, rather than any of the other Royalists, who would have served just as well?
“Perhaps Mr. Thurloe can be acquitted in this respect, for I believe that Samuel Morland’s greed played a part here, as he profited hugely from my father’s disgrace, knowing that the family of his associate John Russell would reward him well if he helped them sweep aside obstacles to their plans for the fenlands. So Morland approached that family, and told them that Sir James Prestcott could be removed if it was made worth his while. Sir John Russell leaped on the information Morland provided and began to disseminate it widely, and his passionate advocacy deceived Sir William Compton into denouncing and destroying his closest friend.
“Thus, the second aspect of the plan, which joined the destruction of my father’s reputation to that of his estate, was brought into being. I do not know whether he ever imagined that so many powerful people desired, indeed required, his fall. Thurloe, protecting the government; Mordaunt and Morland, whose future rested on his shouldering the blame for their deeds; and the might of the Russell family, which gained the freedom it needed to exploit the fenlands. Everybody profited handsomely from the arrangement, and the cost was small. Only the life and honor of a single man needed to be sacrificed.
“It is impossible to counter accusations made in such a way; there were no charges, so how could they be refuted? No evidence was produced, so how could it be shown to be forged? My father withdrew with a dignity that was mistaken for cowardice. He fled to avoid calumny, false imprisonment and even the assassin’s knife, and this was mistaken for guilt. And all along Thurloe, the author of his misfortunes and the one man who could have cleansed his honor, said not a word. Who else could have conceived of such a scheme? And who else had the means to put it into operation? Only John Thurloe, who knew everything, saw everything, and was the moving force behind all occult activities.
“And I, members of the jury, am reduced to the sorry state which you behold. I have no resources, no connections and no influence except that of argument and my unquenching belief in the justice of my case, and the goodness of this court. I am sure it will be more than enough.”
Is this what I said, word for word? No; of course it is not; I am sure that my youth tripped my tongue and that the speech was not half as assured as I like to remember it. My friends who read books tell me this is the way of history. Even great historians write down what the actors should say, rather than what they did. So it is with myself, and if I have improved and polished over the years, then I do not apologize for it. I remember the occasion, though, as if I did speak in this way, restrained but passionate, zealous but controlled, standing before him, fixed upon his countenance, strangely concerned to convince him that what I said was true but realizing that I was as concerned to convince myself He did not reply at once, that I remember clearly. Rather, he continued to sit impassively, his book folded on his lap, nodding quietly. After a short while, when there was no sound but the crackling and hissing of the logs in the grate, he began to reply, still maintaining the fiction of the drama.
“I will not condescend to my learned prosecutor by complimenting him on a fine speech, sincerely delivered as only a son could manage. The honesty of the words I do not doubt; the courage and zeal for justice is also beyond question, and it is honorable in one so young to take such a weighty task on his shoulders unsupported.
“But this is a court of law, and cannot admit of sentiment. So, I must point out that the case for my guilt is thin, and the proof offered is insubstantial. The word of a father carries weight with a son, but not with a court. If you are to translate your own convictions into accepted fact, you must rest your case on much more than the protestations of a man under accusation. That I destroyed an innocent is a grave charge, and cannot be allowed to stand by mere assertion.
“Sir James Prestcott was accused of treachery, and he was destroyed—I admit I am the obvious person to suspect. For long years I was responsible for the safety of the government, and I do not deny that the methods I used were many and various. This was necessary, for there were indeed plots against us; so numerous that I can no longer recall them all. Time and again agitators tried to return the country to the horrors of war and civil strife. It was my job to prevent this, and 1 performed the task to the best of my abilities.
“Was there an informer, a traitor, in the ranks of the king’s men? Of course; not one, but very many. There are always people willing to sell their friends for money, but often I did not need the wares they tried to peddle. The Royalists were always the most foolish of conspirators. The proposed risings involved so many people with loose tongues that we would have been deaf indeed not to have heard of them. The satanic skill attributed to me was flattering, but wrong—for the most part my success was due solely to the stupidity of those who pitted themselves against me.
“As for Samuel Morland, he was not without ability, but his greed and faithlessness made him less than useful and I had long wanted to dismiss him from my office. I could not do so, because he held in his hands our most useful informer on the doings of the king’s men, whom he called Mr. Barrett.
“Of all the government’s sources of information, this Mr. Barrett was by far the best. We merely had to ask and Mr. Barrett provided the answer through Samuel. And Samuel refused to say who this man was. If I disposed of Samuel’s services, I also lost Mr. Barrett, and Samuel was clever enough to realize this was the only reason I tolerated his presence. I often wondered whether he was passing information as well as receiving it, and took care that he knew as little as possible about our office’s operations. As long as this trade did not become too disadvantageous, I did not discourage it.
“Who was Mr. Barrett? You are quite right; I also concluded it was John Mordaunt, and had him arrested so I could interview him personally and try to establish a direct connection that would eliminate the need for Samuel. But Mordaunt denied everything; either he suspected a trap, or he was indeed innocent, or his loyalty to Samuel was too great. Either way, I got nothing from him.
“It was a mistake on my part, for my action made clear my enmity to Samuel, and when his opportunity came he conspired against me, and caused my temporary ejection from office. When I recovered my position, he then went over to the king’s party for fear of my revenge and denounced your father to win acceptance.
“So you see I do not wish here to dispute your case, that the traitor was John Mordaunt and that your father was sacrificed to protect him, although I would dispute some details if there was leisure to do so.
“I dispute one assertion only, however, and do so because your case against me rests entirely on it, and I can prove it wrong. You say I caused your father’s disgrace, that I organized the forgeries and their dissemination, and I say plainly that not only did I not do so, I could not have done so, for when this happened I no longer had any place or influence in the government.