and agitated life of a
conspirator, passed and repassed on secret errands between England and
France, changed his lodgings in London often, and was known at different
coffeehouses by different names. His services had been requited with a
captain's commission signed by the banished King.

With Charnock was closely connected George Porter, an adventurer who
called himself a Roman Catholic and a Royalist, but who was in truth
destitute of all religious and of all political principle. Porter's
friends could not deny that he was a rake and a coxcomb, that he drank,
that he swore, that he told extravagant lies about his amours, and that
he had been convicted of manslaughter for a stab given in a brawl at
the playhouse. His enemies affirmed that he was addicted to nauseous
and horrible kinds of debauchery, and that he procured the means of
indulging his infamous tastes by cheating and marauding; that he was one
of a gang of clippers; that he sometimes got on horseback late in the
evening and stole out in disguise, and that, when he returned from these
mysterious excursions, his appearance justified the suspicion that he
had been doing business on Hounslow Heath or Finchley Common. [592]

Cardell Goodman, popularly called Scum Goodman, a knave more abandoned,
if possible, than Porter, was in the plot. Goodman had been on the
stage, had been kept, like some much greater men, by the Duchess of
Cleveland, had been taken into her house, had been loaded by her with
gifts, and had requited her by bribing an Italian quack to poison two of
her children. As the poison had not been administered, Goodman could
be prosecuted only for a misdemeanour. He was tried, convicted and
sentenced to a ruinous fine. He had since distinguished himself as one
of the first forgers of bank notes. [593]

Sir William Parkyns, a wealthy knight bred to the law, who had been
conspicuous among the Tories in the days of the Exclusion Bill, was one
of the most important members of the confederacy. He bore a much fairer
character than most of his accomplices; but in one respect he was more
culpable than any of them. For he had, in order to retain a lucrative
office which he held in the Court of Chancery, sworn allegiance to the
Prince against whose life he now conspired.

The design was imparted to Sir John Fenwick, celebrated on account of
the cowardly insult which he had offered to the deceased Queen. Fenwick,
if his own assertion is to be trusted, was will