In 1678, the nation was excited to absolute frenzy by the declarations of the infamous Titus Oates concerning the 'Popish Plot.' In the same spirit as that in which they had laid the burning of London at the door of the Romanists, the mob lent greedy, credulous ears to the tales of Oates, and were encouraged by Lord Shaftesbury and his party, who made political capital out of this madness. Looking back, it is difficult to understand how such manifest falsehoods could have obtained credit; but it should be borne in mind that only seventy-three years had passed since the Gunpowder Plot had all but succeeded, and despite its failure left a mark in popular feeling which, however obscured and travestied, remains to this day. That it was fresh in the minds of the Members of Parliament may be seen from their insisting that a guard should be placed in the vaults over which they sate. Bedloe, Oates' villainous ally, having declared that an army of thirty thousand pilgrims was coming from Spain to join forty thousand who were ready to rise in London, the House of Lords insisted that a communication between the Spanish ambassador's house and that of his neighbour Mr. Weld should be secured. No less a person than Sir Christopher himself was to be despatched by the Lords' committee to see to this matter. Wren took the matter quietly enough; went with Mr. Edward Warcup, one of his assistants, and sent in a report stating that they had caused 'padlocks to be hung on all such dores as open out of Mr. Weld's house into the Spanish Embassador's house;' had then 'acquainted his Excellency Count Egmont, who with great civility gave permission for all things necessary to be done on his side.' They locked the doors on his side, barred some with iron, and handed over the keys to the Clerk of the Parliament, which no doubt felt itself more secure after this precaution. Evelyn, it is plain from passages in his diary, disbelieved and distrusted Oates, and Wren, who gave no heed to panics, was probably of the same opinion. One wishes that Pepys had not been compelled in 1669, by failing eyesight, to give up keeping his most amusing diary, that he might have recorded his impressions of this time of frenzy. He, however, was a sufferer by it, being clapt into the Tower on a charge of 'Popery, felony, piracy, and treason,' in 1679. The 'treason' charged seems to have been that he sent information to the French Court about the state of the English navy. The 'Popery,' from which he was certainly free, was probably thrown in to give a flavour suited to the times. It is an incredible charge, and Pepys, who defended himself in a spirited letter to the Duke of York, was discharged in the following February.