in his defence was his friend Pope, who could
only give evidence as to the manner in which the bishop had passed his
time when staying in the poet's house. Christopher Layer, Atterbury's
associate in the general charge of conspiracy, was a young barrister of
good family, a remarkably handsome, {221} graceful, and accomplished man.
One charge against him was that he had formed a plan to murder the King
and carry off the Prince of Wales; but the statements made against Layer
must be taken with liberal allowance for the extravagance of loyal
passion, panic, and exaggeration. Layer had escaped and was recaptured,
was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to death. He was hanged at Tyburn
on March 15, 1723; he met his death with calm courage. His body was
quartered and his head was set on Temple Bar, from which it was presently
blown down by the wind. Some one picked up the head and sold it to a
surgeon. Neynoe, another of the accused men, contrived to escape from
custody, got to the river, endeavored to swim across it, and was drowned
in the attempt.

The charges made against Atterbury had therefore sometimes to rest upon
inferences drawn from confessions, or portions of confessions, averred to
have dropped or been drawn from men whose lips were now closed by death.
Those who defended Atterbury dwelt strongly on this fact, as was but
natural. It is curious to notice how often in the debates of the Lords
on the Bill of Pains and Penalties one noble peer accuses another of
secret sympathy with Jacobite schemes. As regards Atterbury, the whole
question was whether he was really the person described in the
correspondence now as Jones and now as Illington. There might have been
no evidence which even a "secret, wise" committee of that day would have
cared to accept but for the fact that the bishop's wife had received, or
was to have received, from France a present of a dog called Harlequin,
and that there was mention in the correspondence about poor Mr. Illington
being in grief for the loss of his dog Harlequin. This allusion put the
committee of secrecy on the track. The bishop's wife had lately died,
and it would seem from the correspondence that Illington's wife had died
about the same time. Clearly, if it were once assumed that Illington and
Atterbury were one and the same person, there was ample ground for
suspicion, and even for a general belief that the story told {222} was
true in the main. The evidence was eno