No commander has ever understood better than Marlborough how to improve

a victory. A few hours after Cork had fallen, his cavalry were on the

road to Kinsale. A trumpeter was sent to summon the place. The Irish

threatened to hang him for bringing such a message, set fire to the

town, and retired into two forts called the Old and the New. The

English horse arrived just in time to extinguish the flames. Marlborough

speedily followed with his infantry. The Old Fort was scaled; and four

hundred and fifty men who defended it were all killed or taken. The New

Fort it was necessary to attack in a more methodical way. Batteries

were planted; trenches were opened; mines were sprung; in a few days

the besiegers were masters of the counterscarp; and all was ready for

storming, when the governor offered to capitulate. The garrison, twelve

hundred strong, was suffered to retire to Limerick; but the conquerors

took possession of the stores, which were of considerable value. Of

all the Irish ports Kinsale was the best situated for intercourse with

France. Here, therefore, was a plenty unknown in any other part of

Munster. At Limerick bread and wine were luxuries which generals and

privy councillors were not always able to procure. But in the New Fort

of Kinsale Marlborough found a thousand barrels of wheat and eighty

pipes of claret.

His success had been complete and rapid; and indeed, had it not been

rapid, it would not have been complete. His campaign, short as it was,

had been long enough to allow time for the deadly work which, in that

age, the moist earth and air of Ireland seldom failed, in the autumnal

season, to perform on English soldiers. The malady which had thinned the

ranks of Schomberg's army at Dundalk, and which had compelled William

to make a hasty retreat from the estuary of the Shannon, had begun to

appear at Kinsale. Quick and vigorous as Marlborough's operations were,

he lost a much greater number of men by disease than by the fire of the

enemy. He presented himself at Kensington only five weeks after he had

sailed from Portsmouth, and was most graciously received. "No officer

living," said William, "who has seen so little service as my Lord

Marlborough, is so fit for great commands." [757]

In Scotland, as in Ireland, the aspect of things had, during this

memorable summer, changed greatly for the better. That club of

discontented Whigs which had, in the preceding year, ruled the

Parliament, browbeaten the ministers, refused the supplies and stopped

the signet, had sunk under general contempt, and had at length ceased to

exist. There was harmony between the Sovereign and the Estates; and the

long contest between two forms of ecclesiastical government had been

terminated in the only way compatible with the peace and prosperity of

the country.

This happy turn in affairs is to be chiefly ascribed to the errors of

the perfidious, turbulent and revengeful Montgomery. Some weeks after

the close of that session during which he had exercised a boundless

authority over the Scottish Parliament, he went to London with his two

principal confederates, the Earl of Annandale and the Lord Ross. The

three had an audience of William, and presented to him a manifesto

setting forth what they demanded for the public. They would very soon

have changed their tone if he would have granted what they demanded for

themselves. But he resented their conduct deeply, and was determined not

to pay them for annoying him. The reception which he gave them convinced

them that they had no favour to expect. Montgomery's passions were

fierce; his wants were pressing; he was miserably poor; and, if he

could not speedily force himself into a lucrative office, he would be

in danger of rotting in a gaol. Since his services were not likely to

be bought by William, they must be offered to James. A broker was easily

found. Montgomery was an old acquaintance of Ferguson. The two traitors

soon understood each other. They were kindred spirits, differing widely

in intellectual power, but equally vain, restless, false and malevolent.

Montgomery was introduced to Neville Payne, one of the most adroit and

resolute agents of the exiled family, Payne had been long well known

about town as a dabbler in poetry and politics. He had been an intimate

friend of the indiscreet and unfortunate Coleman, and had been committed

to Newgate as an accomplice in the Popish plot. His moral character

had not stood high; but he soon had an opportunity of proving that he

possessed courage and fidelity worthy of a better cause than that of

James and of a better associate than Montgomery.

The negotiation speedily ended in a treaty of alliance, Payne

confidently promised Montgomery, not merely pardon, but riches,

power and dignity. Montgomery as confidently undertook to induce the

Parliament of Scotland to recall the rightful King. Ross and Annandale

readily agreed to whatever their able and active colleague proposed. An

adventurer, who was sometimes called Simpson and sometimes Jones, who

was perfectly willing to serve or to betray any government for hire,

and who received wages at once from Portland and from Neville Payne,

undertook to carry the offers of the Club to James. Montgomery and his

two noble accomplices returned to Edinburgh, and there proceeded to

form a coalition with their old enemies, the defenders of prelacy and of

arbitrary power, [758]

The Scottish opposition, strangely made up of two factions, one zealous

for bishops, the other zealous for synods, one hostile to all liberty,

the other impatient of all government, flattered itself during a short

time with hopes that the civil war would break out in the Highlands with

redoubled fury. But those hopes were disappointed. In the spring of

1690 an officer named Buchan arrived in Lochaber from Ireland. He bore a

commission which appointed him general in chief of all the forces which

were in arms for King James throughout the kingdom of Scotland. Cannon,

who had, since the death of Dundee, held the first post and had proved

himself unfit for it, became second in command. Little however was

gained by the change. It was no easy matter to induce the Gaelic

princes to renew the war. Indeed, but for the influence and eloquence of

Lochiel, not a sword would have been drawn for the House of Stuart.

He, with some difficulty, persuaded the chieftains, who had, in the

preceding year, fought at Killiecrankie, to come to a resolution that,

before the end of the summer, they would muster all their followers and

march into the Lowlands. In the mean time twelve hundred mountaineers of

different tribes were placed under the orders of Buchan, who undertook,

with this force, to keep the English garrisons in constant alarm by

feints and incursions, till the season for more important operations

should arrive. He accordingly marched into Strathspey. But all his plans

were speedily disconcerted by the boldness and dexterity of Sir Thomas

Livingstone, who held Inverness for King William. Livingstone, guided

and assisted by the Grants, who were firmly attached to the new

government, came, with a strong body of cavalry and dragoons, by forced

marches and through arduous defiles, to the place where the Jacobites

had taken up their quarters. He reached the camp fires at dead of night.

The first alarm was given by the rush of the horses over the terrified

sentinels into the midst Of the crowd of Celts who lay sleeping in their

plaids. Buchan escaped bareheaded and without his sword. Cannon ran away

in his shirt. The conquerors lost not a man. Four hundred Highlanders

were killed or taken. The rest fled to their hills and mists, [759]

This event put an end to all thoughts of civil war. The gathering which

had been planned for the summer never took place. Lochiel, even if he

had been willing, was not able to sustain any longer the falling cause.

He had been laid on his bed by a mishap which would alone suffice to

show how little could be effected by a confederacy of the petty kings

of the mountains. At a consultation of the Jacobite leaders, a gentleman

from the Lowlands spoke with severity of those sycophants who had

changed their religion to curry favour with King James. Glengarry was

one of those people who think it dignified to suppose that every body

is always insulting them. He took it into his head that some allusion

to himself was meant. "I am as good a Protestant as you." he cried, and

added a word not to be patiently borne by a man of spirit. In a moment

both swords were out. Lochiel thrust himself between the combatants,

and, while forcing them asunder, received a wound which was at first

believed to be mortal, [760]

So effectually had the spirit of the disaffected clans been cowed that

Mackay marched unresisted from Perth into Lochaber, fixed his head

quarters at Inverlochy, and proceeded to execute his favourite design

of erecting at that place a fortress which might overawe the mutinous

Camerons and Macdonalds. In a few days the walls were raised; the

ditches were sunk; the pallisades were fixed; demiculverins from a ship

of war were ranged along the parapets, and the general departed, leaving

an officer named Hill in command of a sufficient garrison. Within the

defences there was no want of oatmeal, red herrings, and beef; and

there was rather a superabundance of brandy. The new stronghold, which,

hastily and rudely as it had been constructed, seemed doubtless to the

people of the neighbourhood the most stupendous work that power and

science united had ever produced, was named Fort William in honour of

the King, [761]

By this time the Scottish Parliament had reassembled at Edinburgh.

William had found it no easy matter to decide what course should be

taken with that capricious and unruly body. The English Commons had

sometimes put him out of temper. Yet they had granted him millions,

and had never asked from him such concessions as had been imperiously

demanded by the Scottish legislature, which could give him little and

had given him nothing. The English statesmen with whom he had to deal

did not generally stand or serve to stand high in his esteem. Yet few

of them were so utterly false and shameless as the leading Scottish

politicians. Hamilton was, in morality and honour, rather above than

below his fellows; and even Hamilton was fickle, false and greedy.

"I wish to heaven," William was once provoked into exclaiming, "that

Scotland were a thousand miles off, and that the Duke of Hamilton were

King of it. Then I should be rid of them both."

After much deliberation William determined to send Melville down to

Edinburgh as Lord High Commissioner. Melville was not a great

statesman; he was not a great orator; he did not look or move like the

representative of royalty; his character was not of more than standard

purity; and the standard of purity among Scottish senators was not

high; but he was by no means deficient in prudence or temper; and he

succeeded, on the whole, better than a man of much higher qualities

might have done.

During the first days of the Session, the friends of the government

desponded, and the chiefs of the opposition were sanguine. Montgomery's

head, though by no means a weak one, had been turned by the triumphs of

the preceding year. He believed that his intrigues and his rhetoric had

completely subjugated the Estates. It seemed to him impossible that,

having exercised a boundless empire in the Parliament House when the

Jacobites were absent, he should be defeated when they were present, and

ready to support whatever he proposed. He had not indeed found it

easy to prevail on them to attend: for they could not take their seats

without taking the oaths. A few of them had some slight scruple of

conscience about foreswearing themselves; and many, who did not know

what a scruple of conscience meant, were apprehensive that they might

offend the rightful King by vowing fealty to the actual King. Some

Lords, however, who were supposed to be in the confidence of James,

asserted that, to their knowledge, he wished his friends to perjure

themselves; and this assertion induced most of the Jacobites, with

Balcarras at their head, to be guilty of perfidy aggravated by impiety,

[762]

It soon appeared, however, that Montgomery's faction, even with this

reinforcement, was no longer a majority of the legislature. For every

supporter that he had gained he had lost two. He had committed an

error which has more than once, in British history, been fatal to great

parliamentary leaders. He had imagined that, as soon as he chose to

coalesce with those to whom he had recently been opposed, all his

followers would imitate his example. He soon found that it was much

easier to inflame animosities than to appease them. The great body Of

Whigs and Presbyterians shrank from the fellowship of the Jacobites.

Some waverers were purchased by the government; nor was the purchase

expensive, for a sum which would hardly be missed in the English

Treasury was immense in the estimation of the needy barons of the North,

[763] Thus the scale was turned; and, in the Scottish Parliaments

of that age, the turn of the scale was every thing; the tendency

of majorities was always to increase, the tendency of minorities to

diminish.

The first question on which a vote was taken related to the election for

a borough. The ministers carried their point by six voices, [764] In an

instant every thing was changed; the spell was broken; the Club, from

being a bugbear, became a laughingstock; the timid and the venal passed

over in crowds from the weaker to the stronger side. It was in vain that

the opposition attempted to revive the disputes of the preceding year.

The King had wisely authorised Melville to give up the Committee of

Articles. The Estates, on the other hand, showed no disposition to pass

another Act of Incapacitation, to censure the government for opening the

Courts of justice, or to question the right of the Sovereign to name

the judges. An extraordinary supply was voted, small, according to the

notions of English financiers, but large for the means of Scotland. The

sum granted was a hundred and sixty-two thousand pounds sterling, to be

raised in the course of four years, [765]

The Jacobites, who found that they had forsworn themselves to no

purpose, sate, bowed down by shame and writhing with vexation, while

Montgomery, who had deceived himself and them, and who, in his rage, had

utterly lost, not indeed his parts and his fluency, but all decorum and

selfcommand, scolded like a waterman on the Thames, and was answered

with equal asperity and even more than equal ability by Sir John

Dalrymple, [766]

The most important acts of this Session were those which fixed the

ecclesiastical constitution of Scotland. By the Claim of Right it

had been declared that the authority of Bishops was an insupportable

grievance; and William, by accepting the Crown, had bound himself not

to uphold an institution condemned by the very instrument on which his

title to the Crown depended. But the Claim of Right had not defined the

form of Church government which was to be substituted for episcopacy;

and, during the stormy Session held in the summer of 1689, the violence

of the Club had made legislation impossible. During many months

therefore every thing had been in confusion. One polity had been pulled

down; and no other polity had been set up. In the Western Lowlands, the

beneficed clergy had been so effectually rabbled, that scarcely one of

them had remained at his post. In Berwickshire, the three Lothians and

Stirlingshire, most of the curates had been removed by the Privy Council

for not obeying that vote of the Convention which had directed all

ministers of parishes, on pain of deprivation, to proclaim William and

Mary King and Queen of Scotland. Thus, throughout a great part of

the realm, there was no public worship except what was performed by

Presbyterian divines, who sometimes officiated in tents, and sometimes,

without any legal right, took possession of the churches. But there were

large districts, especially on the north of the Tay, where the people

had no strong feeling against episcopacy; and there were many priests

who were not disposed to lose their manses, and stipends for the sake of

King James. Hundreds of the old curates, therefore, having been neither

hunted by the populace nor deposed by the Council, still performed their

spiritual functions. Every minister was, during this time of transition,

free to conduct the service and to administer the sacraments as he

thought fit. There was no controlling authority. The legislature had

taken away the jurisdiction of Bishops, and had not established the

jurisdiction of Synods, [767]

To put an end to this anarchy was one of the first duties of the

Parliament. Melville had, with the powerful assistance of Carstairs,

obtained, in spite of the remonstrances of English Tories, authority to

assent to such ecclesiastical arrangements as might satisfy the Scottish

nation. One of the first laws which the Lord Commissioner touched with

the sceptre repealed the Act of Supremacy. He next gave the royal assent

to a law enacting that those Presbyterian divines who had been pastors

of parishes in the days of the Covenant, and had, after the Restoration,

been ejected for refusing to acknowledge episcopal authority, should be

restored. The number of those Pastors had originally been about three

hundred and fifty: but not more than sixty were still living, [768]

The Estates then proceeded to fix the national creed. The Confession of

Faith drawn up by the Assembly of Divines at Westminster, the Longer

and Shorter Catechism, and the Directory, were considered by every good

Presbyterian as the standards of orthodoxy; and it was hoped that the

legislature would recognise them as such, [769] This hope, however, was

in part disappointed. The Confession was read at length, amidst much

yawning, and adopted without alteration. But, when it was proposed that

the Catechisms and the Directory should be taken into consideration, the

ill humour of the audience broke forth into murmurs. For that love of

long sermons which was strong in the Scottish commonalty was not shared

by the Scottish aristocracy. The Parliament had already been listening

during three hours to dry theology, and was not inclined to hear any

thing more about original sin and election. The Duke of Hamilton said

that the Estates had already done all that was essential. They had given

their sanction to a digest of the great principles of Christianity.

The rest might well be left to the Church. The weary majority eagerly

assented, in spite of the muttering of some zealous Presbyterian

ministers who had been admitted to hear the debate, and who could

sometimes hardly restrain themselves from taking part in it, [770]

The memorable law which fixed the ecclesiastical constitution of

Scotland was brought in by the Earl of Sutherland. By this law the

synodical polity was reestablished. The rule of the Church was entrusted

to the sixty ejected ministers who had just been restored, and to such

other persons, whether ministers or elders, as the Sixty should think

fit to admit to a participation of power. The Sixty and their nominees

were authorised to visit all the parishes in the kingdom, and to turn

out all ministers who were deficient in abilities, scandalous in morals,

or unsound in faith. Those parishes which had, during the interregnum,

been deserted by their pastors, or, in plain words, those parishes of

which the pastors had been rabbled, were declared vacant, [771]

To the clause which reestablished synodical government no serious

opposition appears to have been made. But three days were spent in

discussing the question whether the Sovereign should have power to

convoke and to dissolve ecclesiastical assemblies; and the point was

at last left in dangerous ambiguity. Some other clauses were long and

vehemently debated. It was said that the immense power given to the

Sixty was incompatible with the fundamental principle of the polity

which the Estates were about to set up. That principle was that all

presbyters were equal, and that there ought to be no order of ministers

of religion superior to the order of presbyters. What did it matter

whether the Sixty were called prelates or not, if they were to lord it

with more than prelatical authority over God's heritage? To the argument

that the proposed arrangement was, in the very peculiar circumstances

of the Church, the most convenient that could be made, the objectors

replied that such reasoning might suit the mouth of an Erastian, but

that all orthodox Presbyterians held the parity of ministers to be

ordained by Christ, and that, where Christ had spoken, Christians were

not at liberty to consider what was convenient, [772]

With much greater warmth and much stronger reason the minority attacked

the clause which sanctioned the lawless acts of the Western fanatics.

Surely, it was said, a rabbled curate might well be left to the severe

scrutiny of the sixty Inquisitors. If he was deficient in parts or

learning, if he was loose in life, if he was heterodox in doctrine,

those stern judges would not fail to detect and to depose him. They

would probably think a game at bowls, a prayer borrowed from the English

Liturgy, or a sermon in which the slightest taint of Arminianism could

be discovered, a sufficient reason for pronouncing his benefice vacant.

Was it not monstrous, after constituting a tribunal from which he could

scarcely hope for bare justice, to condemn him without allowing him to

appear even before that tribunal, to condemn him without a trial, to

condemn him without an accusation? Did ever any grave senate, since the

beginning of the world, treat a man as a criminal merely because he

had been robbed, pelted, hustled, dragged through snow and mire, and

threatened with death if he returned to the house which was his by law?

The Duke of Hamilton, glad to have so good an Opportunity of attacking

the new Lord Commissioner, spoke with great vehemence against this

odious clause. We are told that no attempt was made to answer him; and,

though those who tell us so were zealous Episcopalians, we may easily

believe their report; for what answer was it possible to return?

Melville, on whom the chief responsibility lay, sate on the throne in

profound silence through the whole of this tempestuous debate. It

is probable that his conduct was determined by considerations which

prudence and shame prevented him from explaining. The state of the

southwestern shires was such that it would have been impossible to

put the rabbled minister in possession of their dwellings and churches

without employing a military force, without garrisoning every manse,

without placing guards round every pulpit, and without handing over some

ferocious enthusiasts to the Provost Marshal; and it would be no easy

task for the government to keep down by the sword at once the Jacobites

of the Highlands and the Covenanters of the Lowlands. The majority,

having made up their minds for reasons which could not well be produced,

became clamorous for the question. "No more debate," was the cry: "We

have heard enough: a vote! a vote!" The question was put according

to the Scottish form, "Approve or not approve the article?" Hamilton

insisted that the question, should be, "Approve or not approve the

rabbling?" After much altercation, he was overruled, and the clause

passed. Only fifteen or sixteen members voted with him. He warmly and

loudly exclaimed, amidst much angry interruption, that he was sorry to

see a Scottish Parliament disgrace itself by such iniquity. He then

left the house with several of his friends. It is impossible not to

sympathize with the indignation which he expressed. Yet we ought to

remember that it is the nature of injustice to generate injustice. There

are wrongs which it is almost impossible to repair without committing

other wrongs; and such a wrong had been done to the people of Scotland

in the preceding generation. It was because the Parliament of the

Restoration had legislated in insolent defiance of the sense of the

nation that the Parliament of the Revolution had to abase itself before

the mob.

When Hamilton and his adherents had retired, one of the preachers who

had been admitted to the hall called out to the members who were near

him; "Fie! Fie! Do not lose time. Make haste, and get all over before he

comes back." This advice was taken. Four or five sturdy Prelatists staid

to give a last vote against Presbytery. Four or five equally sturdy

Covenanters staid to mark their dislike of what seemed to them a

compromise between the Lord and Baal. But the Act was passed by an

overwhelming majority, [773]

Two supplementary Acts speedily followed. One of them, now happily

repealed, required every officebearer in every University of Scotland to

sign the Confession of Faith and to give in his adhesion to the new form

of Church government, [774] The other settled the important and delicate

question of patronage. Knox had, in the First Book of Discipline,

asserted the right of every Christian congregation to choose its own

pastor. Melville had not, in the Second Book of Discipline, gone quite

so far; but he had declared that no pastor could lawfully be forced on

an unwilling congregation. Patronage had been abolished by a Covenanted

Parliament in 1649, and restored by a Royalist Parliament in 1661. What

ought to be done in 1690 it was no easy matter to decide. Scarcely any

question seems to have caused so much anxiety to William. He had, in his

private instructions, given the Lord Commissioner authority to assent to

the abolition of patronage, if nothing else would satisfy the Estates.

But this authority was most unwillingly given; and the King hoped that

it would not be used. "It is," he said, "the taking of men's property."

Melville succeeded in effecting a compromise. Patronage was abolished;

but it was enacted that every patron should receive six hundred

marks Scots, equivalent to about thirty-five pounds sterling, as a

compensation for his rights. The sum seems ludicrously small. Yet,

when the nature of the property and the poverty of the country are

considered, it may be doubted whether a patron would have made much more

by going into the market. The largest sum that any member ventured to

propose was nine hundred marks, little more than fifty pounds sterling.

The right of proposing a minister was given to a parochial council

consisting of the Protestant landowners and the elders. The congregation

might object to the person proposed; and the Presbytery was to judge

of the objections. This arrangement did not give to the people all the

power to which even the Second Book of Discipline had declared that they

were entitled. But the odious name of patronage was taken away; it was

probably thought that the elders and landowners of a parish would seldom

persist in nominating a person to whom the majority of the congregation

had strong objections; and indeed it does not appear that, while the Act

of 1690 continued in force, the peace of the Church was ever broken by

disputes such as produced the schisms of 1732, of 1756, and of 1843,

[775]

Montgomery had done all in his power to prevent the Estates from

settling the ecclesiastical polity of the realm. He had incited the

zealous Covenanters to demand what he knew that the government would

never grant. He had protested against all Erastianism, against all

compromise. Dutch Presbyterianism, he said, would not do for Scotland.

She must have again the system of 1649. That system was deduced from the

Word of God: it was the most powerful check that had ever been devised

on the tyranny of wicked kings; and it ought to be restored without

addition or diminution. His Jacobite allies could not conceal their

disgust and mortification at hearing him hold such language, and were by

no means satisfied with the explanations which he gave them in private.

While they were wrangling with him on this subject, a messenger arrived

at Edinburgh with important despatches from James and from Mary of

Modena. These despatches had been written in the confident expectation

that the large promises of Montgomery would be fulfilled, and that the

Scottish Estates would, under his dexterous management, declare for the

rightful Sovereign against the Usurper. James was so grateful for the

unexpected support of his old enemies, that he entirely forgot the

services and disregarded the feelings of his old friends. The three

chiefs of the Club, rebels and Puritans as they were, had become his

favourites. Annandale was to be a Marquess, Governor of Edinburgh

Castle, and Lord High Commissioner. Montgomery was to be Earl of Ayr and

Secretary of State. Ross was to be an Earl and to command the guards. An

unprincipled lawyer named James Stewart, who had been deeply concerned

in Argyle's insurrection, who had changed sides and supported the

dispensing power, who had then changed sides a second time and concurred

in the Revolution, and who had now changed sides a third time and was

scheming to bring about a Restoration, was to be Lord Advocate. The

Privy Council, the Court of Session, the army, were to be filled with

Whigs. A Council of Five was appointed, which all loyal subjects were

to obey; and in this Council Annandale, Ross and Montgomery formed the

majority. Mary of Modena informed Montgomery that five thousand pounds

sterling had been remitted to his order, and that five thousand more

would soon follow. It was impossible that Balcarras and those who had

acted with him should not bitterly resent the manner in which they were

treated. Their names were not even mentioned. All that they had done and

suffered seemed to have faded from their master's mind. He had now given

them fair notice that, if they should, at the hazard of their lands and

lives, succeed in restoring him, all that he had to give would be given

to those who had deposed him. They too, when they read his letters,

knew, what he did not know when the letters were written, that he had

been duped by the confident boasts and promises of the apostate Whigs.

He imagined that the Club was omnipotent at Edinburgh; and, in truth,

the Club had become a mere byword of contempt. The Tory Jacobites easily

found pretexts for refusing to obey the Presbyterian Jacobites to whom

the banished King had delegated his authority. They complained that

Montgomery had not shown them all the despatches which he had received.

They affected to suspect that he had tampered with the seals. He called

God Almighty to witness that the suspicion was unfounded. But oaths were

very naturally regarded as insufficient guarantees by men who had just

been swearing allegiance to a King against whom they were conspiring.

There was a violent outbreak of passion on both sides; the coalition was

dissolved; the papers were flung into the fire; and, in a few days, the

infamous triumvirs who had been, in the short space of a year, violent

Williamites and violent Jacobites, became Williamites again, and

attempted to make their peace with the government by accusing each

other, [776]

Ross was the first who turned informer. After the fashion of the school

in which he had been bred, he committed this base action with all the

forms of sanctity. He pretended to be greatly troubled in mind, sent for

a celebrated Presbyterian minister named Dunlop, and bemoaned himself

piteously: "There is a load on my conscience; there is a secret which

I know that I ought to disclose; but I cannot bring myself to do it."

Dunlop prayed long and fervently; Ross groaned and wept; at last it

seemed that heaven had been stormed by the violence of supplication; the

truth came out, and many lies with it. The divine and the penitent then

returned thanks together. Dunlop went with the news to Melville. Ross

set off for England to make his peace at court, and performed his

journey in safety, though some of his accomplices, who had heard of

his repentance, but had been little edified by it, had laid plans for

cutting his throat by the way. At London he protested, on his honour

and on the word of a gentleman, that he had been drawn in, that he had

always disliked the plot, and that Montgomery and Ferguson were the real

criminals, [777]

Dunlop was, in the mean time, magnifying, wherever he went, the divine

goodness which had, by so humble an instrument as himself, brought a

noble person back to the right path. Montgomery no sooner heard of this

wonderful work of grace than he too began to experience compunction. He

went to Melville, made a confession not exactly coinciding with Ross's,

and obtained a pass for England. William was then in Ireland; and Mary

was governing in his stead. At her feet Montgomery threw himself.

He tried to move her pity by speaking of his broken fortunes, and to

ingratiate himself with her by praising her sweet and affable manners.

He gave up to her the names of his fellow plotters. He vowed to dedicate

his whole life to her service, if she would obtain for him some place

which might enable him to subsist with decency. She was so much touched

by his supplications and flatteries that she recommended him to her

husband's favour; but the just distrust and abhorrence with which

William regarded Montgomery were not to be overcome, [778]

Before the traitor had been admitted to Mary's presence, he had obtained

a promise that he should be allowed to depart in safety. The promise was

kept. During some months, he lay hid in London, and contrived to carry

on a negotiation with the government. He offered to be a witness against

his accomplices on condition of having a good place. William would bid

no higher than a pardon. At length the communications were broken off.

Montgomery retired for a time to France. He soon returned to London, and

passed the miserable remnant of his life in forming plots which came to

nothing, and in writing libels which are distinguished by the grace

and vigour of their style from most of the productions of the Jacobite

press, [779]

Annandale, when he learned that his two accomplices had turned

approvers, retired to Bath, and pretended to drink the waters. Thence he

was soon brought up to London by a warrant. He acknowledged that he had

been seduced into treason; but he declared that he had only said Amen to

the plans of others, and that his childlike simplicity had been imposed

on by Montgomery, that worst, that falsest, that most unquiet of human

beings. The noble penitent then proceeded to make atonement for his own

crime by criminating other people, English and Scotch, Whig and Tory,

guilty and innocent. Some he accused on his own knowledge, and some

on mere hearsay. Among those whom he accused on his own knowledge was

Neville Payne, who had not, it should seem, been mentioned either by

Ross or by Montgomery, [780]

Payne, pursued by messengers and warrants, was so ill advised as to take

refuge in Scotland. Had he remained in England he would have been safe;

for, though the moral proofs of his guilt were complete, there was not

such legal evidence as would have satisfied a jury that he had committed

high treason; he could not be subjected to torture in order to force

him to furnish evidence against himself; nor could he be long confined

without being brought to trial. But the moment that he passed the border

he was at the mercy of the government of which he was the deadly foe.

The Claim of Right had recognised torture as, in cases like his, a

legitimate mode of obtaining information; and no Habeas Corpus Act

secured him against a long detention. The unhappy man was arrested,

carried to Edinburgh, and brought before the Privy Council. The general

notion was that he was a knave and a coward, and that the first sight

of the boots and thumbscrews would bring out all the guilty secrets

with which he had been entrusted. But Payne had a far braver spirit than

those highborn plotters with whom it was his misfortune to have been

connected. Twice he was subjected to frightful torments; but not a word

inculpating himself or any other person could be wrung out of him. Some

councillors left the board in horror. But the pious Crawford presided.

He was not much troubled with the weakness of compassion where an

Amalekite was concerned, and forced the executioner to hammer in wedge

after wedge between the knees of the prisoner till the pain was as

great as the human frame can sustain without dissolution. Payne was

then carried to the Castle of Edinburgh, where he long remained, utterly

forgotten, as he touchingly complained, by those for whose sake he had

endured more than the bitterness of death. Yet no ingratitude could damp

the ardour of his fanatical loyalty; and he continued, year after year,

in his cell, to plan insurrections and invasions, [781]

Before Payne's arrest the Estates had been adjourned after a Session

as important as any that had ever been held in Scotland. The nation

generally acquiesced in the new ecclesiastical constitution. The

indifferent, a large portion of every society, were glad that the

anarchy was over, and conformed to the Presbyterian Church as they had

conformed to the Episcopal Church. To the moderate Presbyterians the

settlement which had been made was on the whole satisfactory. Most of

the strict Presbyterians brought themselves to accept it under protest,

as a large instalment of what was due. They missed indeed what they

considered as the perfect beauty and symmetry of that Church which had,

forty years before, been the glory of Scotland. But, though the second

temple was not equal to the first, the chosen people might well rejoice

to think that they were, after a long captivity in Babylon, suffered to

rebuild, though imperfectly, the House of God on the old foundations;

nor could it misbecome them to feel for the latitudinarian William a

grateful affection such as the restored Jews had felt for the heathen

Cyrus.

There were however two parties which regarded the settlement of 1690

with implacable detestation. Those Scotchmen who were Episcopalians on

conviction and with fervour appear to have been few; but among them were

some persons superior, not perhaps in natural parts, but in learning,

in taste, and in the art of composition, to the theologians of the

sect which had now become dominant. It might not have been safe for the

ejected Curates and Professors to give vent in their own country to the

anger which they felt. But the English press was open to them; and they

were sure of the approbation of a large part of the English people.

During several years they continued to torment their enemies and to

amuse the public with a succession of ingenious and spirited pamphlets.

In some of these works the hardships suffered by the rabbled priests of

the western shires are set forth with a skill which irresistibly moves

pity and indignation. In others, the cruelty with which the Covenanters

had been treated during the reigns of the last two kings of the House

of Stuart is extenuated by every artifice of sophistry. There is much

joking on the bad Latin which some Presbyterian teachers had uttered

while seated in academic chairs lately occupied by great scholars. Much

was said about the ignorant contempt which the victorious barbarians

professed for science and literature. They were accused of

anathematizing the modern systems of natural philosophy as damnable

heresies, of condemning geometry as a souldestroying pursuit, of

discouraging even the study of those tongues in which the sacred books

were written. Learning, it was said, would soon be extinct in Scotland.

The Universities, under their new rulers, were languishing and must soon

perish. The booksellers had been half ruined: they found that the whole

profit of their business would not pay the rent of their shops, and were

preparing to emigrate to some country where letters were held in esteem

by those whose office was to instruct the public. Among the ministers

of religion no purchaser of books was left. The Episcopalian divine was

glad to sell for a morsel of bread whatever part of his library had

not been torn to pieces or burned by the Christmas mobs; and the only

library of a Presbyterian divine consisted of an explanation of the

Apocalypse and a commentary on the Song of Songs, [782] The pulpit

oratory of the triumphant party was an inexhaustible subject of mirth.

One little volume, entitled The Scotch Presbyterian Eloquence Displayed,

had an immense success in the South among both High Churchmen and

scoffers, and is not yet quite forgotten. It was indeed a book well

fitted to lie on the hall table of a Squire whose religion consisted in

hating extemporaneous prayer and nasal psalmody. On a rainy day, when

it was impossible to hunt or shoot, neither the card table nor the

backgammon board would have been, in the intervals of the flagon and the

pasty, so agreeable a resource. Nowhere else, perhaps, can be found, in

so small a compass, so large a collection of ludicrous quotations and

anecdotes. Some grave men, however, who bore no love to the Calvinistic

doctrine or discipline, shook their heads over this lively jest book,

and hinted their opinion that the writer, while holding up to derision

the absurd rhetoric by which coarseminded and ignorant men tried to

illustrate dark questions of theology and to excite devotional feeling

among the populace, had sometimes forgotten the reverence due to sacred

things. The effect which tracts of this sort produced on the public mind

of England could not be fully discerned, while England and Scotland were

independent of each other, but manifested itself, very soon after the

union of the kingdoms, in a way which we still have reason, and which

our posterity will probably long have reason to lament.

The extreme Presbyterians were as much out of humour as the extreme

Prelatists, and were as little inclined as the extreme Prelatists to

take the oath of allegiance to William and Mary. Indeed, though the

Jacobite nonjuror and the Cameronian nonjuror were diametrically opposed

to each other in opinion, though they regarded each other with mortal

aversion, though neither of them would have had any scruple about

persecuting the other, they had much in common. They were perhaps the

two most remarkable specimens that the world could show of perverse

absurdity. Each of them considered his darling form of ecclesiastical

polity, not as a means but as an end, as the one thing needful, as the

quintessence of the Christian religion. Each of them childishly fancied

that he had found a theory of civil government in his Bible. Neither

shrank from the frightful consequences to which his theory led. To all

objections both had one answer,--Thus saith the Lord. Both agreed in

boasting that the arguments which to atheistical politicians seemed

unanswerable presented no difficulty to the Saint. It might be perfectly

true that, by relaxing the rigour of his principles, he might save his

country from slavery, anarchy, universal ruin. But his business was not

to save his country, but to save his soul. He obeyed the commands of

God, and left the event to God. One of the two fanatical sects held

that, to the end of time, the nation would be bound to obey the heir of

the Stuarts; the other held that, to the end of time, the nation would

be bound by the Solemn League and Covenant; and thus both agreed in

regarding the new Sovereigns as usurpers.

The Presbyterian nonjurors have scarcely been heard of out of Scotland;

and perhaps it may not now be generally known, even in Scotland, how

long they continued to form a distinct class. They held that their

country was under a precontract to the Most High, and could never,

while the world lasted, enter into any engagement inconsistent with that

precontract. An Erastian, a latitudinarian, a man who knelt to receive

the bread and wine from the hands of bishops, and who bore, though

not very patiently, to hear anthems chaunted by choristers in white

vestments, could not be King of a covenanted kingdom. William had

moreover forfeited all claim to the crown by committing that sin for

which, in the old time, a dynasty preternaturally appointed had been

preternaturally deposed. He had connived at the escape of his father in

law, that idolater, that murderer, that man of Belial, who ought to

have been hewn in pieces before the Lord, like Agag. Nay, the crime of

William had exceeded that of Saul. Saul had spared only one Amalekite,

and had smitten the rest. What Amalekite had William smitten? The pure

Church had been twenty-eight years under persecution. Her children had

been imprisoned, transported, branded, shot, hanged, drowned, tortured.

And yet he who called himself her deliverer had not suffered her to

see her desire upon her enemies, [783] The bloody Claverhouse had been

graciously received at Saint James's. The bloody Mackenzie had found a

secure and luxurious retreat among the malignants of Oxford. The younger

Dalrymple who had prosecuted the Saints, the elder Dalrymple who had

sate in judgment on the Saints, were great and powerful. It was said

by careless Gallios, that there was no choice but between William and

James, and that it was wisdom to choose the less of two evils. Such was

indeed the wisdom of this world. But the wisdom which was from above

taught us that of two things, both of which were evil in the sight of

God, we should choose neither. As soon as James was restored, it would

be a duty to disown and withstand him. The present duty was to disown

and withstand his son in law. Nothing must be said, nothing must be done

that could be construed into a recognition of the authority of the man

from Holland. The godly must pay no duties to him, must hold no offices

under him, must receive no wages from him, must sign no instruments

in which he was styled King. Anne succeeded William; and Anne was

designated, by those who called themselves the remnant of the true

Church, as the pretended Queen, the wicked woman, the Jezebel. George

the First succeeded Anne; and George the First was the pretended King,

the German Beast, [784] George the Second succeeded George the First;

George the Second too was a pretended King, and was accused of having

outdone the wickedness of his wicked predecessors by passing a law

in defiance of that divine law which ordains that no witch shall be

suffered to live, [785] George the Third succeeded George the Second;

and still these men continued, with unabated stedfastness, though in

language less ferocious than before, to disclaim all allegiance to an

uncovenanted Sovereign, [786] So late as the year 1806, they were still

bearing their public testimony against the sin of owning his government

by paying taxes, by taking out excise licenses, by joining the

volunteers, or by labouring on public works, [787] The number of these

zealots went on diminishing till at length they were so thinly scattered

over Scotland that they were nowhere numerous enough to have a meeting

house, and were known by the name of the Nonhearers. They, however,

still assembled and prayed in private dwellings, and still persisted in

considering themselves as the chosen generation, the royal priesthood,

the holy nation, the peculiar people, which, amidst the common

degeneracy, alone preserved the faith of a better age. It is by no means

improbable that this superstition, the most irrational and the most

unsocial into which Protestant Christianity has ever been corrupted

by human prejudices and passions, may still linger in a few obscure

farmhouses.

The King was but half satisfied with the manner in which the

ecclesiastical polity of Scotland had been settled. He thought that the

Episcopalians had been hardly used; and he apprehended that they might

be still more hardly used when the new system was fully organized. He

had been very desirous that the Act which established the Presbyterian

Church should be accompanied by an Act allowing persons who were not

members of that Church to hold their own religious assemblies freely;

and he had particularly directed Melville to look to this, [788] But

some popular preachers harangued so vehemently at Edinburgh against

liberty of conscience, which they called the mystery of iniquity, that

Melville did not venture to obey his master's instructions. A draught of

a Toleration Act was offered to the Parliament by a private member, but

was coldly received and suffered to drop, [789]

William, however, was fully determined to prevent the dominant sect from

indulging in the luxury of persecution; and he took an early opportunity

of announcing his determination. The first General Assembly of the

newly established Church met soon after his return from Ireland. It was

necessary that he should appoint a Commissioner and send a letter. Some

zealous Presbyterians hoped that Crawford would be the Commissioner;

and the ministers of Edinburgh drew up a paper in which they very

intelligibly hinted that this was their wish. William, however, selected

Lord Carmichael, a nobleman distinguished by good sense, humanity and

moderation, [790] The royal letter to the Assembly was eminently wise in

substance and impressive in language. "We expect," the King wrote, "that

your management shall be such that we may have no reason to repent

of what we have done. We never could be of the mind that violence was

suited to the advancing of true religion; nor do we intend that our

authority shall ever be a tool to the irregular passions of any party.

Moderation is what religion enjoins, what neighbouring Churches expect

from you, and what we recommend to you." The Sixty and their associates

would probably have been glad to reply in language resembling that

which, as some of them could well remember, had been held by the clergy

to Charles the Second during his residence in Scotland. But they had

just been informed that there was in England a strong feeling in favour

of the rabbled curates, and that it would, at such a conjuncture, be

madness in the body which represented the Presbyterian Church to quarrel

with the King, [791] The Assembly therefore returned a grateful and

respectful answer to the royal letter, and assured His Majesty that they

had suffered too much from oppression ever to be oppressors, [792]

Meanwhile the troops all over the Continent were going into winter

quarters. The campaign had everywhere been indecisive. The victory

gained by Luxemburg at Fleurus had produced no important effect. On the

Upper Rhine great armies had eyed each other, month after month, without

exchanging a blow. In Catalonia a few small forts had been taken. In

the cast of Europe the Turks had been successful on some points, the

Christians on other points; and the termination of the contest seemed to

be as remote as ever. The coalition had in the course of the year lost

one valuable member and gained another. The Duke of Lorraine, the ablest

captain in the Imperial service, was no more. He had died, as he had

lived, an exile and a wanderer, and had bequeathed to his children

nothing but his name and his rights. It was popularly said that the

confederacy could better have spared thirty thousand soldiers than such

a general. But scarcely had the allied Courts gone into mourning for him

when they were consoled by learning that another prince, superior to him

in power, and not inferior to him in capacity or courage, had joined the

league against France.

This was Victor Amadeus Duke of Savoy. He was a young man; but he was

already versed in those arts for which the statesmen of Italy had,

ever since the thirteenth century, been celebrated, those arts by which

Castruccio Castracani and Francis Sforza rose to greatness, and which

Machiavel reduced to a system. No sovereign in modern Europe has, with

so small a principality, exercised so great an influence during so long

a period. He had for a time submitted, with a show of cheerfulness, but

with secret reluctance and resentment, to the French ascendency. When

the war broke out, he professed neutrality, but entered into private

negotiations with the House of Austria. He would probably have continued

to dissemble till he found some opportunity of striking an unexpected

blow, had not his crafty schemes been disconcerted by the decision and

vigour of Lewis. A French army commanded by Catinat, an officer of great

skill and valour, marched into Piedmont. The Duke was informed that his

conduct had excited suspicions which he could remove only by admitting

foreign garrisons into Turin and Vercelli. He found that he must

be either the slave or the open enemy of his powerful and imperious

neighbour. His choice was soon made; and a war began which, during seven

years, found employment for some of the best generals and best troops

of Lewis. An Envoy Extraordinary from Savoy went to the Hague, proceeded

thence to London, presented his credentials in the Banqueting House, and

addressed to William a speech which was speedily translated into many

languages and read in every part of Europe. The orator congratulated the

King on the success of that great enterprise which had restored England

to her ancient place among the nations, and had broken the chains of

Europe. "That my master," he said, "can now at length venture to express

feelings which have been long concealed in the recesses of his heart,

is part of the debt which he owes to Your Majesty. You have inspired him

with the hope of freedom after so many years of bondage." [793]

It had been determined that, during the approaching winter a Congress

of all the powers hostile to France should be held at the Hague. William

was impatient to proceed thither. But it was necessary that he should

first hold a Session of Parliament. Early in October the Houses

reassembled at Westminster. The members had generally come up in

good humour. Those Tories whom it was possible to conciliate had been

conciliated by the Act of Grace, and by the large share which they had

obtained of the favours of the Crown. Those Whigs who were capable of

learning had learned much from the lesson which William had given them,

and had ceased to expect that he would descend from the rank of a

King to that of a party leader. Both Whigs and Tories had, with few

exceptions, been alarmed by the prospect of a French invasion and

cheered by the news of the victory of the Boyne. The Sovereign who had

shed his blood for their nation and their religion stood at this moment

higher in public estimation than at any time since his accession. His

speech from the throne called forth the loud acclamations of Lords and

Commons, [794] Thanks were unanimously voted by both Houses to the King

for his achievements in Ireland, and to the Queen for the prudence

with which she had, during his absence, governed England, [795] Thus

commenced a Session distinguished among the Sessions of that reign by

harmony and tranquillity. No report of the debates has been preserved,

unless a long forgotten lampoon, in which some of the speeches made on

the first day are burlesqued in doggrel rhymes, may be called a report,

[796] The time of the Commons appears to have been chiefly occupied

in discussing questions arising out of the elections of the preceding

spring. The supplies necessary for the war, though large, were granted

with alacrity. The number of regular troops for the next year was

fixed at seventy thousand, of whom twelve thousand were to be horse or

dragoons. The charge of this army, the greatest that England had ever

maintained, amounted to about two million three hundred thousand pounds;

the charge of the navy to about eighteen hundred thousand pounds. The

charge of the ordnance was included in these sums, and was roughly

estimated at one eighth of the naval and one fifth of the military

expenditure, [797] The whole of the extraordinary aid granted to the

King exceeded four millions.

The Commons justly thought that the extraordinary liberality with

which they had provided for the public service entitled them to demand

extraordinary securities against waste and peculation. A bill was

brought in empowering nine Commissioners to examine and state the public

accounts. The nine were named in the bill, and were all members of the

Lower House. The Lords agreed to the bill without amendments; and the

King gave his assent, [798]

The debates on the Ways and Means occupied a considerable part of the

Session. It was resolved that sixteen hundred and fifty thousand pounds

should be raised by a direct monthly assessment on land. The excise

duties on ale and beer were doubled; and the import duties on raw silk,

linen, timber, glass, and some other articles, were increased, [799]

Thus far there was little difference of opinion. But soon the smooth

course of business was disturbed by a proposition which was much more

popular than just or humane. Taxes of unprecedented severity had been

imposed; and yet it might well be doubted whether these taxes would be

sufficient. Why, it was asked, should not the cost of the Irish war be

borne by the Irish insurgents? How those insurgents had acted in their

mock Parliament all the world knew; and nothing could be more reasonable

than to mete to them from their own measure. They ought to be treated

as they had treated the Saxon colony. Every acre which the Act of

Settlement had left them ought to be seized by the state for the purpose

of defraying that expense which their turbulence and perverseness had

made necessary. It is not strange that a plan which at once gratified

national animosity, and held out the hope of pecuniary relief, should

have been welcomed with eager delight. A bill was brought in which bore

but too much resemblance to some of the laws passed by the Jacobite

legislators of Dublin. By this bill it was provided that the property of

every person who had been in rebellion against the King and Queen since

the day on which they were proclaimed should be confiscated, and that

the proceeds should be applied to the support of the war. An exception

was made in favour of such Protestants as had merely submitted to

superior force; but to Papists no indulgence was shown. The royal

prerogative of clemency was limited. The King might indeed, if such were

his pleasure, spare the lives of his vanquished enemies; but he was not

to be permitted to save any part of their estates from the general doom.

He was not to have it in his power to grant a capitulation which should

secure to Irish Roman Catholics the enjoyment of their hereditary lands.

Nay, he was not to be allowed to keep faith with persons whom he had

already received to mercy, who had kissed his hand, and had heard from

his lips the promise of protection. An attempt was made to insert a

proviso in favour of Lord Dover. Dover, who, with all his faults, was

not without some English feelings, had, by defending the interests of

his native country at Dublin, made himself odious to both the Irish and

the French. After the battle of the Boyne his situation was deplorable.

Neither at Limerick nor at Saint Germains could he hope to be welcomed.

In his despair, he threw himself at William's feet, promised to live

peaceably, and was graciously assured that he had nothing to fear.

Though the royal word seemed to be pledged to this unfortunate man,

the Commons resolved, by a hundred and nineteen votes to a hundred

and twelve, that his property should not be exempted from the general

confiscation.

The bill went up to the Peers, but the Peers were not inclined to pass

it without considerable amendments; and such amendments there was

not time to make. Numerous heirs at law, reversioners, and creditors

implored the Upper House to introduce such provisoes as might secure the

innocent against all danger of being involved in the punishment of the

guilty. Some petitioners asked to be heard by counsel. The King had made

all his arrangements for a voyage to the Hague; and the day beyond which

he could not postpone his departure drew near. The bill was therefore,

happily for the honour of English legislation, consigned to that dark

repository in which the abortive statutes of many generations sleep a

sleep rarely disturbed by the historian or the antiquary, [800]

Another question, which slightly and but slightly discomposed the

tranquillity of this short session, arose out of the disastrous and

disgraceful battle of Beachy Head. Torrington had, immediately after

that battle, been sent to the Tower, and had ever since remained there.

A technical difficulty had arisen about the mode of bringing him to

trial. There was no Lord High Admiral; and whether the Commissioners of

the Admiralty were competent to execute martial law was a point which

to some jurists appeared not perfectly clear. The majority of the judges

held that the Commissioners were competent; but, for the purpose of

removing all doubt, a bill was brought into the Upper House; and to this

bill several Lords offered an opposition which seems to have been most

unreasonable. The proposed law, they said, was a retrospective penal

law, and therefore objectionable. If they used this argument in good

faith, they were ignorant of the very rudiments of the science of

legislation. To make a law for punishing that which, at the time when it

was done, was not punishable, is contrary to all sound principle. But

a law which merely alters the criminal procedure may with perfect

propriety be made applicable to past as well as to future offences. It

would have been the grossest injustice to give a retrospective operation

to the law which made slavetrading felony. But there was not the

smallest injustice in enacting that the Central Criminal Court

should try felonies committed long before that Court was in being. In

Torrington's case the substantive law continued to be what it had always

been. The definition of the crime, the amount of the penalty, remained

unaltered. The only change was in the form of procedure; and that change

the legislature was perfectly justified in making retrospectively.

It is indeed hardly possible to believe that some of those who opposed

the bill were duped by the fallacy of which they condescended to make

use. The feeling of caste was strong among the Lords. That one of

themselves should be tried for his life by a court composed of plebeians

seemed to them a degradation of their whole order. If their noble

brother had offended, articles of impeachment ought to be exhibited

against him: Westminster Hall ought to be fitted up: his peers ought

to meet in their robes, and to give in their verdict on their honour;

a Lord High Steward ought to pronounce the sentence and to break the

staff. There was an end of privilege if an Earl was to be doomed to

death by tarpaulins seated round a table in the cabin of a ship. These

feelings had so much influence that the bill passed the Upper House by a

majority of only two, [801] In the Lower House, where the dignities and

immunities of the nobility were regarded with no friendly feeling, there

was little difference of opinion. Torrington requested to be heard at

the bar, and spoke there at great length, but weakly and confusedly. He

boasted of his services, of his sacrifices, and of his wounds. He abused

the Dutch, the Board of Admiralty, and the Secretary of State. The bill,

however, went through all its stages without a division, [802]

Early in December Torrington was sent under a guard down the river to

Sheerness. There the Court Martial met on board of a frigate named the

Kent. The investigation lasted three days; and during those days the

ferment was great in London. Nothing was heard of on the exchange, in

the coffeehouses, nay even at the church doors, but Torrington. Parties

ran high; wagers to an immense amount were depending; rumours were

hourly arriving by land and water, and every rumour was exaggerated and

distorted by the way. From the day on which the news of the ignominious

battle arrived, down to the very eve of the trial, public opinion

had been very unfavourable to the prisoner. His name, we are told by

contemporary pamphleteers, was hardly ever mentioned without a curse.

But, when the crisis of his fate drew nigh, there was, as in our country

there often is, a reaction. All his merits, his courage, his good

nature, his firm adherence to the Protestant religion in the evil times,

were remembered. It was impossible to deny that he was sunk in sloth and

luxury, that he neglected the most important business for his pleasures,

and that he could not say No to a boon companion or to a mistress; but

for these faults excuses and soft names were found. His friends used

without scruple all the arts which could raise a national feeling in his

favour; and these arts were powerfully assisted by the intelligence that

the hatred which was felt towards him in Holland bad vented itself in

indignities to some of his countrymen. The cry was that a bold, jolly,

freehanded English gentleman, of whom the worst that could be said was

that he liked wine and women, was to be shot in order to gratify the

spite of the Dutch. What passed at the trial tended to confirm the

populace in this notion. Most of the witnesses against the prisoner were

Dutch officers. The Dutch real admiral, who took on himself the part of

prosecutor, forgot himself so far as to accuse the judges of partiality.

When at length, on the evening of the third day, Torrington was

pronounced not guilty, many who had recently clamoured for his blood

seemed to be well pleased with his acquittal. He returned to London

free, and with his sword by his side. As his yacht went up the Thames,

every ship which he passed saluted him. He took his seat in the House

of Lords, and even ventured to present himself at court. But most of the

peers looked coldly on him; William would not see him, and ordered him

to be dismissed from the service, [803]

There was another subject about which no vote was passed by either

of the Houses, but about which there is reason to believe that some

acrimonious discussion took place in both. The Whigs, though much less

violent than in the preceding year, could not patiently see Caermarthen

as nearly prime minister as any English subject could be under a prince

of William's character. Though no man had taken a more prominent part in

the Revolution than the Lord President, though no man had more to fear

from a counterrevolution, his old enemies would not believe that he had

from his heart renounced those arbitrary doctrines for which he had

once been zealous, or that he could bear true allegiance to a government

sprung from resistance. Through the last six months of 1690 he was

mercilessly lampooned. Sometimes he was King Thomas and sometimes Tom

the Tyrant, [804] William was adjured not to go to the Continent leaving

his worst enemy close to the ear of the Queen. Halifax, who had, in the

preceding year, been ungenerously and ungratefully persecuted by the

Whigs, was now mentioned by them with respect and regret; for he was the

enemy of their enemy, [805] The face, the figure, the bodily infirmities

of Caermarthen, were ridiculed, [806] Those dealings with the French

Court in which, twelve years before, he had, rather by his misfortune

than by his fault, been implicated, were represented in the most odious

colours. He was reproached with his impeachment and his imprisonment.

Once, it was said, he had escaped; but vengeance might still overtake

him, and London might enjoy the long deferred pleasure of seeing the old

traitor flung off the ladder in the blue riband which he disgraced.

All the members of his family, wife, son, daughters, were assailed with

savage invective and contemptuous sarcasm, [807] All who were supposed

to be closely connected with him by political ties came in for a portion

of this abuse; and none had so large a portion as Lowther. The feeling

indicated by these satires was strong among the Whigs in Parliament.

Several of them deliberated on a plan of attack, and were in hopes that

they should be able to raise such a storm as would make it impossible

for him to remain at the head of affairs. It should seem that, at this

time, his influence in the royal closet was not quite what it had

been. Godolphin, whom he did not love, and could not control, but whose

financial skill had been greatly missed during the summer, was brought

back to the Treasury, and made First Commissioner. Lowther, who was

the Lord President's own man, still sate at the board, but no longer

presided there. It is true that there was not then such a difference as

there now is between the First Lord and his colleagues. Still the change

was important and significant. Marlborough, whom Caermarthen disliked,

was, in military affairs, not less trusted than Godolphin in financial

affairs. The seals which Shrewsbury had resigned in the summer had ever

since been lying in William's secret drawer. The Lord President probably

expected that he should be consulted before they were given away; but he

was disappointed. Sidney was sent for from Ireland; and the seals were

delivered to him. The first intimation which the Lord President received

of this important appointment was not made in a manner likely to soothe

his feelings. "Did you meet the new Secretary of State going out?" said

William. "No, Sir," answered the Lord President; "I met nobody but my

Lord Sidney." "He is the new Secretary," said William. "He will do till

I find a fit man; and he will be quite willing to resign as soon as I

find a fit man. Any other person that I could put in would think himself

ill used if I were to put him out." If William had said all that was in

his mind, he would probably have added that Sidney, though not a great

orator or statesman, was one of the very few English politicians who

could be as entirely trusted as Bentinck or Zulestein. Caermarthen

listened with a bitter smile. It was new, he afterwards said, to see a

nobleman placed in the Secretary's office, as a footman was placed in

a box at the theatre, merely in order to keep a seat till his betters

came. But this jest was a cover for serious mortification and alarm. The

situation of the prime minister was unpleasant and even perilous;

and the duration of his power would probably have been short, had

not fortune, just at this moment, put it in his power to confound his

adversaries by rendering a great service to the state, [808]

The Jacobites had seemed in August to be completely crushed. The victory

of the Boyne, and the irresistible explosion of patriotic feeling

produced by the appearance of Tourville's fleet on the coast of

Devonshire, had cowed the boldest champions of hereditary right. Most of

the chief plotters passed some weeks in confinement or in concealment.

But, widely as the ramifications of the conspiracy had extended, only

one traitor suffered the punishment of his crime. This was a man named

Godfrey Cross, who kept an inn on the beach near Rye, and who, when

the French fleet was on the coast of Sussex, had given information

to Tourville. When it appeared that this solitary example was thought

sufficient, when the danger of invasion was over, when the popular

enthusiasm excited by that danger had subsided, when the lenity of the

government had permitted some conspirators to leave their prisons and

had encouraged others to venture out of their hidingplaces, the faction

which had been prostrated and stunned began to give signs of returning

animation. The old traitors again mustered at the old haunts, exchanged

significant looks and eager whispers, and drew from their pockets libels

on the Court of Kensington, and letters in milk and lemon juice from the

Court of Saint Germains. Preston, Dartmouth, Clarendon, Penn, were among

the most busy. With them, was leagued the nonjuring Bishop of Ely, who

was still permitted by the government to reside in the palace, now no

longer his own, and who had, but a short time before, called heaven to

witness that he detested the thought of inviting foreigners to invade

England. One good opportunity had been lost; but another was at hand,

and must not be suffered to escape. The usurper would soon be again out

of England. The administration would soon be again confided to a weak

woman and a divided council. The year which was closing had certainly

been unlucky; but that which was about to commence might be more

auspicious.

In December a meeting of the leading Jacobites was held, [809] The sense

of the assembly, which consisted exclusively of Protestants, was that

something ought to be attempted, but that the difficulties were great.

None ventured to recommend that James should come over unaccompanied

by regular troops. Yet all, taught by the experience of the preceding

summer, dreaded the effect which might be produced by the sight of

French uniforms and standards on English ground. A paper was drawn

up which would, it was hoped, convince both James and Lewis that a

restoration could not be effected without the cordial concurrence of

the nation. France,--such was the substance of this remarkable

document,--might possibly make the island a heap of ruins, but never a

subject province. It was hardly possible for any person, who had not had

an opportunity of observing the temper of the public mind, to imagine

the savage and dogged determination with which men of all classes, sects

and factions were prepared to resist any foreign potentate who should

attempt to conquer the kingdom by force of arms. Nor could England

be governed as a Roman Catholic country. There were five millions of

Protestants in the realm: there were not a hundred thousand Papists:

that such a minority should keep down such a majority was physically

impossible; and to physical impossibility all other considerations

must give way. James would therefore do well to take without delay such

measures as might indicate his resolution to protect the established

religion. Unhappily every letter which arrived from France contained

something tending to irritate feelings which it was most desirable to

soothe. Stories were every where current of slights offered at Saint

Germains to Protestants who had given the highest proof of loyalty by

following into banishment a master zealous for a faith which was not

their own. The edicts which had been issued against the Huguenots might

perhaps have been justified by the anarchical opinions and practices of

those sectaries; but it was the height of injustice and of inhospitality

to put those edicts in force against men who had been driven from their

country solely on account of their attachment to a Roman Catholic

King. Surely sons of the Anglican Church, who had, in obedience to her

teaching, sacrificed all that they most prized on earth to the royal

cause, ought not to be any longer interdicted from assembling in some

modest edifice to celebrate her rites and to receive her consolations.

An announcement that Lewis had, at the request of James, permitted the

English exiles to worship God according to their national forms would

be the best prelude to the great attempt. That attempt ought to be

made early in the spring. A French force must undoubtedly accompany His

Majesty. But he must declare that he brought that force only for the

defence of his person and for the protection of his loving subjects, and

that, as soon as the foreign oppressors had been expelled, the foreign

deliverers should be dismissed. He must also promise to govern according

to law, and must refer all the points which had been in dispute between

him and his people to the decision of a Parliament.

It was determined that Preston should carry to Saint Germains the

resolutions and suggestions of the conspirators, John Ashton, a person

who had been clerk of the closet to Mary of Modena when she was on the

throne, and who was entirely devoted to the interests of the exiled

family, undertook to procure the means of conveyance, and for this

purpose engaged the cooperation of a hotheaded young Jacobite named

Elliot, who only knew in general that a service of some hazard was to be

rendered to the good cause.

It was easy to find in the port of London a vessel the owner of which

was not scrupulous about the use for which it might be wanted. Ashton

and Elliot were introduced to the master of a smack named the James and

Elizabeth. The Jacobite agents pretended to be smugglers, and talked

of the thousands of pounds which might be got by a single lucky trip to

France and back again. A bargain was struck: a sixpence was broken; and

all the arrangements were made for the voyage.

Preston was charged by his friends with a packet containing several

important papers. Among these was a list of the English fleet furnished

by Dartmouth, who was in communication with some of his old companions

in arms, a minute of the resolutions which had been adopted at the

meeting of the conspirators, and the Heads of a Declaration which it

was thought desirable that James should publish at the moment of his

landing. There were also six or seven letters from persons of note in

the Jacobite party. Most of these letters were parables, but parables

which it was not difficult to unriddle. One plotter used the cant of the

law. There was hope that Mr. Jackson would soon recover his estate. The

new landlord was a hard man, and had set the freeholders against him. A

little matter would redeem the whole property. The opinions of the best

counsel were in Mr. Jackson's favour. All that was necessary was that he

should himself appear in Westminster Hall. The final hearing ought to be

before the close of Easter Term. Other writers affected the style of the

Royal Exchange. There was a great demand for a cargo of the right sort.

There was reason to hope that the old firm would soon form profitable

connections with houses with which it had hitherto had no dealings. This

was evidently an allusion to the discontented Whigs. But, it was added,

the shipments must not be delayed. Nothing was so dangerous as to

overstay the market. If the expected goods did not arrive by the tenth

of March, the whole profit of the year would be lost. As to details,

entire reliance might be placed on the excellent factor who was going

over. Clarendon assumed the character of a matchmaker. There was great

hope that the business which he had been negotiating would be brought

to bear, and that the marriage portion would be well secured. "Your

relations," he wrote, in allusion to his recent confinement, "have been

very hard on me this last summer. Yet, as soon as I could go safely

abroad, I pursued the business." Catharine Sedley entrusted Preston with

a letter in which, without allegory or circumlocution, she complained

that her lover had left her a daughter to support, and begged very

hard for money. But the two most important despatches were from Bishop

Turner. They were directed to Mr. and Mrs. Redding: but the language was

such as it would be thought abject in any gentleman to hold except to

royalty. The Bishop assured their Majesties that he was devoted to their

cause, that he earnestly wished for a great occasion to prove his zeal,

and that he would no more swerve from his duty to them than renounce

his hope of heaven. He added, in phraseology metaphorical indeed, but

perfectly intelligible, that he was the mouthpiece of several of the

nonjuring prelates, and especially of Sancroft. "Sir, I speak in the

plural,"--these are the words of the letter to James,--"because I write

my elder brother's sentiments as well as my own, and the rest of our

family." The letter to Mary of Modena is to the same effect. "I say this

in behalf of my elder brother, and the rest of my nearest relations, as

well as from myself." [810]

All the letters with which Preston was charged referred the Court

of Saint Germains to him for fuller information. He carried with him

minutes in his own handwriting of the subjects on which he was to

converse with his master and with the ministers of Lewis. These minutes,

though concise and desultory, can for the most part be interpreted

without difficulty. The vulnerable points of the coast are mentioned.

Gosport is defended only by palisades. The garrison of Portsmouth is

small. The French fleet ought to be out in April, and to fight before

the Dutch are in the Channel. There are a few broken words clearly

importing that some at least of the nonjuring bishops, when they

declared, before God, that they abhorred the thought of inviting the

French over, were dissembling, [811]

Every thing was now ready for Preston's departure. But the owner of the

James and Elizabeth had conceived a suspicion that the expedition for

which his smack had been hired was rather of a political than of

a commercial nature. It occurred to him that more might be made

by informing against his passengers than by conveying them safely.

Intelligence of what was passing was conveyed to the Lord President. No

intelligence could be more welcome to him. He was delighted to find

that it was in his power to give a signal proof of his attachment to the

government which his enemies had accused him of betraying. He took his

measures with his usual energy and dexterity. His eldest son, the Earl

of Danby, a bold, volatile, and somewhat eccentric young man, was fond

of the sea, lived much among sailors, and was the proprietor of a small

yacht of marvellous speed. This vessel, well manned, was placed under

the command of a trusty officer named Billop, and was sent down the

river, as if for the purpose of pressing mariners.

At dead of night, the last night of the year 1690, Preston, Ashton and

Elliot went on board of their smack near the Tower. They were in great

dread lest they should be stopped and searched, either by a frigate

which lay off Woolwich, or by the guard posted at the blockhouse of

Gravesend. But, when they had passed both frigate and blockhouse without

being challenged, their spirits rose: their appetite became keen; they

unpacked a hamper well stored with roast beef, mince pies, and bottles

of wine, and were just sitting down to their Christmas cheer, when the

alarm was given that a vessel from Tilbury was flying through the water

after them. They had scarcely time to hide themselves in a dark hole

among the gravel which was the ballast of their smack, when the chase

was over, and Billop, at the head of an armed party, came on board. The

hatches were taken up: the conspirators were arrested; and their clothes

were strictly examined. Preston, in his agitation, had dropped on the

gravel his official seal and the packet of which he was the bearer. The

seal was discovered where it had fallen. Ashton, aware of the importance

of the papers, snatched them up and tried to conceal them; but they were

soon found in his bosom.

The prisoners then tried to cajole or to corrupt Billop. They called for

wine, pledged him, praised his gentlemanlike demeanour, and assured him

that, if he would accompany them, nay, if he would only let that little

roll of paper fall overboard into the Thames, his fortune would be made.

The tide of affairs, they said, was on the turn, things could not go on

for ever as they had gone on of late and it was in the captain's power

to be as great and as rich as he could desire. Billop, though courteous,

was inflexible. The conspirators became sensible that their necks

were in imminent danger. The emergency brought out strongly the

true characters of all the three, characters which, but for such an

emergency, might have remained for ever unknown. Preston had always been

reputed a highspirited and gallant gentleman; but the near prospect of

a dungeon and a gallows altogether unmanned him. Elliot stormed and

blasphemed, vowed that, if he ever got free, he would be revenged, and,

with horrible imprecations, called on the thunder to strike the yacht,

and on London Bridge to fall in and crush her. Ashton alone behaved with

manly firmness.

Late in the evening the yacht reached Whitehall Stairs; and the

prisoners, strongly guarded, were conducted to the Secretary's office.

The papers which had been found in Ashton's bosom were inspected that

night by Nottingham and Caermarthen, and were, on the following morning,

put by Caermarthen into the hands of the King.

Soon it was known all over London that a plot had been detected, that

the messengers whom the adherents of James had sent to solicit the help

of an invading army from France had been arrested by the agents of the

vigilant and energetic Lord President, and that documentary evidence,

which might affect the lives of some great men, was in the possession

of the government. The Jacobites were terrorstricken; the clamour of the

Whigs against Caermarthen was suddenly hushed; and the Session ended in

perfect harmony. On the fifth of January the King thanked the Houses

for their support, and assured them that he would not grant away any

forfeited property in Ireland till they should reassemble. He alluded to

the plot which had just been discovered, and expressed a hope that the

friends of England would not, at such a moment, be less active or less

firmly united than her enemies. He then signified his pleasure that the

Parliament should adjourn. On the following day he set out, attended by

a splendid train of nobles, for the Congress at the Hague, [812]

*****

[Footnote 1: Letter from Lady Cavendish to Sylvia. Lady Cavendish, like

most of the clever girls of that generation, had Scudery's romances

always in her head. She is Dorinda: her correspondent, supposed to be

her cousin Jane Allington, is Sylvia: William is Ormanzor, and Mary

Phenixana. London Gazette, Feb. 14 1688/9; Narcissus Luttrell's Diary.

Luttrell's Diary, which I shall very often quote, is in the library of

All Souls' College. I am greatly obliged to the Warden for the kindness

with which he allowed me access to this valuable manuscript.]

[Footnote 2: See the London Gazettes of February and March 1688/9, and

Narcissus Luttrell's Diary.]

[Footnote 3: Wagenaar, lxi. He quotes the proceedings of the States of

the 2nd of March, 1689. London Gazette, April 11, 1689; Monthly Mercury

for April, 1689.]

[Footnote 4: "I may be positive," says a writer who had been educated at

Westminster School, "where I heard one sermon of repentance, faith, and

the renewing of the Holy Ghost, I heard three of the other; and 'tis

hard to say whether Jesus Christ or King Charles the First were oftener

mentioned and magnified." Bisset's Modern Fanatick, 1710.]

[Footnote 5: Paris Gazette, Jan 26/Feb 5 1689. Orange Gazette, London,

Jan. 10. 1688/9]

[Footnote 6: Grey's Debates; Howe's speech; Feb. 26. 1688/9; Boscawen's

speech, March 1; Narcissus Luttrell's Diary, Feb. 23-27.]

[Footnote 7: Grey's Debates; Feb. 26. 1688/9]

[Footnote 8: This illustration is repeated to satiety in sermons and

pamphlets of the time of William the Third. There is a poor imitation of

Absalom and Ahitophel entitled the Murmurers. William is Moses; Corah,

Dathan and Abiram, nonjuring Bishops; Balaam, I think, Dryden; and

Phinchas Shrewsbury,]

[Footnote 9: Reresby's Memoirs.]

[Footnote 10: Here, and in many other places, I abstain from citing

authorities, because my authorities are too numerous to cite. My notions

of the temper and relative position of political and religious parties

in the reign of William the Third, have been derived, not from any

single work, but from thousands of forgotten tracts, sermons, and

satires; in fact, from a whole literature which is mouldering in old

libraries.]

[Footnote 11: The following passage in a tract of that time expresses

the general opinion. "He has better knowledge of foreign affairs than we

have; but in English business it is no dishonour to him to be told his

relation to us, the nature of it, and what is fit for him to do."--An

Honest Commoner's Speech.]

[Footnote 12: London Gazette, Feb. 18. 1688/9]

[Footnote 13: London Gazette, Feb. 18. 1688/9; Sir J. Reresby's

Memoirs.]

[Footnote 14: London Gazette, Feb. 18. 1688/9; Lords' Journals.]

[Footnote 15: Burnet, ii. 4.]

[Footnote 16: These memoirs will be found in a manuscript volume, which

is part of the Harleian Collection, and is numbered 6584. They are in

fact, the first outlines of a great part of Burnet's History of His Own

Times. The dates at which the different portions of this most curious

and interesting book were composed are marked. Almost the whole was

written before the death of Mary. Burnet did not begin to prepare his

History of William's reign for the press till ten years later. By

that time his opinions both of men and of things, had undergone great

changes. The value of the rough draught is therefore very great: for

it contains some facts which he afterwards thought it advisable to

suppress, and some judgments which he afterwards saw cause to alter.

I must own that I generally like his first thoughts best. Whenever

his History is reprinted, it ought to be carefully collated with this

volume.

When I refer to the Burnet MS. Harl. 6584, I wish the reader to

understand that the MS. contains something which is not to be found in

the History.

As to Nottingham's appointment, see Burnet, ii. 8; the London Gazette of

March 7. 1688/9; and Clarendon's Diary of Feb. 15.]

[Footnote 17: London Gazette, Feb. 18. 1688/9]

[Footnote 18: Don Pedro de Ronquillo makes this objection.]

[Footnote 19: London Gazette, March 11 1688/9.]

[Footnote 20: Ibid.]

[Footnote 21: I have followed what seems to me the most probable story.

But it has been doubted whether Nottingham was invited to be Chancellor,

or only to be First Commissioner of the Great Seal. Compare Burnet ii.

3., and Boyer's History of William, 1702. Narcissus Luttrell repeatedly,

and even as late as the close of 1692, speaks of Nottingham as likely to

be Chancellor.]

[Footnote 22: Roger North relates an amusing story about Shaftesbury's

embarrassments.]

[Footnote 23: London Gazette March 4. 1688/9]

[Footnote 24: Burnet ii. 5.]

[Footnote 25: The Protestant Mask taken off from the Jesuited

Englishman, 1692.]

[Footnote 26: These appointments were not announced in the Gazette till

the 6th of May; but some of them were made earlier.]

[Footnote 27: Kennet's Funeral Sermon on the first Duke of Devonshire,

and Memoirs of the Family of Cavendish, 1708.]

[Footnote 28: See a poem entitled, A Votive Tablet to the King and

Queen.]

[Footnote 29: See Prior's Dedication of his Poems to Dorset's son and

successor, and Dryden's Essay on Satire prefixed to the Translations

from Juvenal. There is a bitter sneer on Dryden's effeminate

querulousness in Collier's Short View of the Stage. In Blackmore's

Prince Arthur, a poem which, worthless as it is, contains some curious

allusions to contemporary men and events, are the following lines:

"The poets' nation did obsequious wait

For the kind dole divided at his gate.

Laurus among the meagre crowd appeared,

An old, revolted, unbelieving bard,

Who thronged, and shoved, and pressed, and would be heard.

Sakil's high roof, the Muses' palace, rung

With endless cries, and endless sons he sung.

To bless good Sakil Laurus would be first;

But Sakil's prince and Sakil's God he curst.

Sakil without distinction threw his bread,

Despised the flatterer, but the poet fed."

I need not say that Sakil is Sackville, or that Laurus is a

translation of the famous nickname Bayes.]

[Footnote 30: Scarcely any man of that age is more frequently mentioned

in pamphlets and satires than Howe. In the famous petition of Legion,

he is designated as "that impudent scandal of Parliaments." Mackay's

account of him is curious. In a poem written in 1690, which I have never

seen except in manuscript, are the following lines:

"First for Jack Howe with his terrible talent,

Happy the female that scopes his lampoon;

Against the ladies excessively valiant,

But very respectful to a Dragoon."]

[Footnote 31: Sprat's True Account; North's Examen; Letter to Chief

Justice Holt, 1694; Letter to Secretary Trenchard, 1694.]

[Footnote 32: Van Citters, Feb 19/March 1 1688/9]

[Footnote 33: Stat. I W.&M. sess. i. c. I. See the Journals of the two

Houses, and Grey's Debates. The argument in favour of the bill is well

stated in the Paris Gazettes of March 5. and 12. 1689.]

[Footnote 34: Both Van Citters and Ronquillo mention the anxiety which

was felt in London till the result was known.]

[Footnote 35: Lords' Journals, March 1688/9]

[Footnote 36: See the letters of Rochester and of Lady Ranelagh to

Burnet on this occasion.]

[Footnote 37: Journals of the Commons, March 2. 1688/9 Ronquillo

wrote as follows: "Es de gran consideracion que Seimor haya tomado el

juramento; porque es el arrengador y el director principal, en la casa

de los Comunes, de los Anglicanos." March 8/18 1688/9]

[Footnote 38: Grey's Debates, Feb. 25, 26, and 27. 1688/9]

[Footnote 39: Commons' Journals, and Grey's Debates, March 1. 1688/9]

[Footnote 40: I W. & M. sess. I c. [10]; Burnet, ii. 13.]

[Footnote 41: Commons' Journals, March 15. 1688/9 So late as 1713,

Arbuthnot, in the fifth part of John Bull, alluded to this transaction

with much pleasantry. "As to your Venire Facias," says John to Nick

Frog, "I have paid you for one already."]

[Footnote 42: Wagenaar, lxi.]

[Footnote 43: Commons' Journals, March 15. 1688/9.]

[Footnote 44: Reresby's Memoirs.]

[Footnote 45: Commons' Journals, and Grey's Debates, March 15. 1688/9;

London Gazette, March 18.]

[Footnote 46: As to the state of this region in the latter part of the

seventeenth and the earlier part of the eighteenth century, see Pepys's

Diary, Sept. 18. 1663, and the Tour through the whole Island of Great

Britain, 1724.]

[Footnote 47: London Gazette, March 25. 1689; Van Citters to the States

General, March 22/April 1 Letters of Nottingham in the State Paper

Office, dated July 23 and August 9. 1689; Historical Record of the First

Regiment of Foot, printed by authority. See also a curious digression in

the Compleat History of the Life and Military Actions of Richard, Earl

of Tyrconnel, 1689.]

[Footnote 48: Stat. I W.&M. sess. I. c. 5.; Commons' Journals, March 28.

1689.]

[Footnote 49: Stat. I W.& M. sess. I. c. 2.]

[Footnote 50: Ronquillo, March 8/18. 1689.]

[Footnote 51: See the account given in Spence's Anecdotes of the Origin

of Dryden's Medal.]

[Footnote 52: Guardian, No. 67.]

[Footnote 53: There is abundant proof that William, though a very

affectionate, was not always a polite husband. But no credit is due to

the story contained in the letter which Dalrymple was foolish enough to

publish as Nottingham's in 1773, and wise enough to omit in the edition

of 1790. How any person who knew any thing of the history of those

times could be so strangely deceived, it is not easy to understand

particularly as the handwriting bears no resemblance to Nottingham's,

with which Dalrymple was familiar. The letter is evidently a common

newsletter, written by a scribbler, who had never seen the King and

Queen except at some public place, and whose anecdotes of their private

life rested on no better authority than coffeehouse gossip.]

[Footnote 54: Ronquillo; Burnet, ii. 2.; Duchess of Marlborough's

Vindication. In a pastoral dialogue between Philander and Palaemon,

published in 1691, the dislike with which women of fashion regarded

William is mentioned. Philander says

"But man methinks his reason should recall,

Nor let frail woman work his second fall."]

[Footnote 55: Tutchin's Observator of November 16. 1706.]

[Footnote 56: Prior, who was treated by William with much kindness,

and who was very grateful for it, informs us that the King did

not understand poetical eulogy. The passage is in a highly curious

manuscript, the property of Lord Lansdowne.]

[Footnote 57: Memoires originaux sur le regne et la cour de Frederic I,

Roi de Prusse, ecrits par Christophe Comte de Dohna. Berlin, 1833. It

is strange that this interesting volume should be almost unknown in

England. The only copy that I have ever seen of it was kindly given to

me by Sir Robert Adair. "Le Roi," Dohna says, "avoit une autre qualite

tres estimable, qui est celle de n'aimer point qu'on rendit de mauvais

offices a personne par des railleries." The Marquis de La Fork tried

to entertain His Majesty at the expense of an English nobleman. "Ce

prince," says Dohna "prit son air severe, et, le regardant sans mot

dire, lui fit rentrer les paroles dans le ventre. Le Marquis m'en fit

ses plaintes quelques heures apres. 'J'ai mal pris ma bisque,' dit-il;

'j'ai cru faire l'agreable sur le chapitre de Milord.. mais j'ai trouva

a qui parler, et j'ai attrape un regard du roi qui m'a fait passer

l'envie de tire.'" Dohna supposed that William might be less sensitive

about the character of a Frenchman, and tried the experiment. But, says

he, "j'eus a pert pres le meme sort que M. de la Foret."]

[Footnote 58: Compare the account of Mary by the Whig Burnet with the

mention of her by the Tory Evelyn in his Diary, March 8. 1694/5,

and with what is said of her by the Nonjuror who wrote the Letter to

Archbishop Tennison on her death in 1695. The impression which the

bluntness and reserve of William and the grace and gentleness of Mary

had made on the populace may be traced in the remains of the street

poetry of that time. The following conjugal dialogue may still be seen

on the original broadside.

"Then bespoke Mary, our most royal Queen,

'My gracious king William, where are you going?'

He answered her quickly, 'I count him no man

That telleth his secret unto a woman.'

The Queen with a modest behaviour replied,

'I wish that kind Providence may be thy guide,

To keep thee from danger, my sovereign Lord,

He which will the greatest of comfort afford.'"

These lines are in an excellent collection formed by Mr. Richard Heber,

and now the property of Mr. Broderip, by whom it was kindly lent to

me; in one of the most savage Jacobite pasquinades of 1689, William is

described as

"A churle to his wife, which she makes but a jest."]

[Footnote 59: Burnet, ii. 2.; Burnet, MS. Harl. 6484. But Ronquillo's

account is much more circumstantial. "Nada se ha visto mas desfigurado;

y, quantas veces he estado con el, le he visto toser tanto que se le

saltaban las lagrimas, y se ponia moxado y arrancando; y confiesan los

medicos que es una asma incurable," Mar. 8/18 1689. Avaux wrote to the

same effect from Ireland. "La sante de l'usurpateur est fort mauvaise.

L'on ne croit pas qu'il vive un an." April 8/18.]

[Footnote 60: "Hasta decir los mismos Hollandeses que lo desconozcan,"

says Ronquillo. "Il est absolument mal propre pour le role qu'il a a

jouer a l'heure qu'il est," says Avaux. "Slothful and sickly," says

Evelyn. March 29. 1689.]

[Footnote 61: See Harris's description of Loo, 1699.]

[Footnote 62: Every person who is well acquainted with Pope and Addison

will remember their sarcasms on this taste. Lady Mary Wortley Montague

took the other side. "Old China," she says, "is below nobody's taste,

since it has been the Duke of Argyle's, whose understanding has never

been doubted either by his friends or enemies."]

[Footnote 63: As to the works at Hampton Court, see Evelyn's Diary, July

16. 1689; the Tour through Great Britain, 1724; the British Apelles;

Horace Walpole on Modern Gardening; Burnet, ii. 2, 3.

When Evelyn was at Hampton Court, in 1662, the cartoons were not to

be seen. The Triumphs of Andrea Mantegna were then supposed to be the

finest pictures in the palace.]

[Footnote 64: Burnet, ii. 2.; Reresby's Memoirs. Ronquillo wrote

repeatedly to the same effect. For example, "Bien quisiera que el Rey

fuese mas comunicable, y se acomodase un poco mas al humor sociable

de los Ingleses, y que estubiera en Londres: pero es cierto que sus

achaques no se lo permiten." July 8/18 1689. Avaux, about the same time,

wrote thus to Croissy from Ireland: "Le Prince d'Orange est toujours a

Hampton Court, et jamais a la ville: et le peuple est fort mal satisfait

de cette maniere bizarre et retiree."]

[Footnote 65: Several of his letters to Heinsius are dated from Holland

House.]

[Footnote 66: Narcissus Luttrell's Diary; Evelyn's Diary, Feb. 25

1689/1690]

[Footnote 67: De Foe makes this excuse for William

"We blame the King that he relies too much

On strangers, Germans, Huguenots, and Dutch,

And seldom does his great affairs of state

To English counsellors communicate.

The fact might very well be answered thus,

He has too often been betrayed by us.

He must have been a madman to rely

On English gentlemen's fidelity.

The foreigners have faithfully obeyed him,

And none but Englishmen have e'er betrayed him."]

--The True Born Englishman, Part ii.]

[Footnote 68: Ronquillo had the good sense and justice to make

allowances which the English did not make. After describing, in a

despatch dated March 1/11. 1689, the lamentable state of the military

and naval establishments, he says, "De esto no tiene culpa el Principe

de Oranges; porque pensar que se han de poder volver en dos meses tres

Reynos de abaxo arriba es una extravagancia." Lord President Stair, in a

letter written from London about a month later, says that the delays of

the English administration had lowered the King's reputation, "though

without his fault."]

[Footnote 69: Burnet, ii. 4.; Reresby.]

[Footnote 70: Reresby's Memoirs; Burnet MS. Hart. 6584.]

[Footnote 71: Burnet, ii. 3, 4. 15.]

[Footnote 72: ibid. ii. 5.]

[Footnote 73:

"How does he do to distribute his hours,

Some to the Court, and some to the City,

Some to the State, and some to Love's powers,

Some to be vain, and some to be witty?"]

--The Modern Lampooners, a poem of 1690]

[Footnote 74: Burnet ii. 4]

[Footnote 75: Ronquillo calls the Whig functionaries "Gente que no

tienen practica ni experiencia." He adds, "Y de esto procede el pasarse

un mes y un otro, sin executarse nada." June 24. 1689. In one of the

innumerable Dialogues which appeared at that time, the Tory interlocutor

puts the question, "Do you think the government would be better served

by strangers to business?" The Whig answers, "Better ignorant friends

than understanding enemies."]

[Footnote 76: Negotiations de M. Le Comte d'Avaux, 4 Mars 1683; Torcy's

Memoirs.]

[Footnote 77: The original correspondence of William and Heinsius is

in Dutch. A French translation of all William's letters, and an English

translation of a few of Heinsius's Letters, are among the Mackintosh

MSS. The Baron Sirtema de Grovestins, who has had access to the

originals, frequently quotes passages in his "Histoire des luttes et

rivalites entre les puissances maritimes et la France." There is very

little difference in substance, though much in phraseology, between his

version and that which I have used.]

[Footnote 78: Though these very convenient names are not, as far as

I know, to be found in any book printed during the earlier years of

William's reign, I shall use them without scruple, as others have done,

in writing about the transactions of those years.]

[Footnote 79: Burnet, ii. 8.; Birch's Life of Tillotson; Life of

Kettlewell, part iii. section 62.]

[Footnote 80: Swift, writing under the name of Gregory Misosarum, most

malignantly and dishonestly represents Burnet as grudging this grant to

the Church. Swift cannot have been ignorant that the Church was indebted

for the grant chiefly to Burnet's persevering exertions.]

[Footnote 81: See the Life of Burnet at the end of the second volume of

his history, his manuscript memoirs, Harl. 6584, his memorials touching

the First Fruits and Tenths, and Somers's letter to him on that subject.

See also what Dr. King, Jacobite as he was, had the justice to say in

his Anecdotes. A most honourable testimony to Burnet's virtues, given by

another Jacobite who had attacked him fiercely, and whom he had treated

generously, the learned and upright Thomas Baker, will be found in the

Gentleman's Magazine for August and September, 1791.]

[Footnote 82: Oldmixon would have us believe that Nottingham was not, at

this time, unwilling to give up the Test Act. But Oldmixon's assertion,

unsupported by evidence, is of no weight whatever; and all the evidence

which he produces makes against his assertion.]

[Footnote 83: Burnet, ii. 6.; Van Citters to the States General, March

1/11 1689; King William's Toleration, being an explanation of that

liberty of conscience which may be expected from His Majesty's

Declaration, with a Bill for Comprehension and Indulgence, drawn up in

order to an Act of Parliament, licensed March 25. 1689.]

[Footnote 84: Commons' Journals, May 17. 1689.]

[Footnote 85: Sense of the subscribed articles by the Ministers of

London, 1690; Calamy's Historical Additions to Baxter's Life.]

[Footnote 86: The bill will be found among the Archives of the House of

Lords. It is strange that this vast collection of important documents

should have been altogether neglected, even by our most exact and

diligent historians. It was opened to me by one of the most valued of

my friends, Mr. John Lefevre; and my researches were greatly assisted by

the kindness of Mr. Thoms.]

[Footnote 87: Among the Tanner MSS. in the Bodleian Library is a very

curious letter from Compton to Sancroft, about the Toleration Bill and

the Comprehension Bill, "These," says Compton, "are two great works in

which the being of our Church is concerned: and I hope you will send to

the House for copies. For, though we are under a conquest, God has given

us favour in the eyes of our rulers; and they may keep our Church if we

will." Sancroft seems to have returned no answer.]

[Footnote 88: The distaste of the High Churchman for the Articles is the

subject of a curious pamphlet published in 1689, and entitled a Dialogue

between Timothy and Titus.]