The time for the decision of these great questions had now arrived. At

break of day, on the twenty-second of January, the House of Commons was

crowded with knights and burgesses. On the benches appeared many faces

which had been well known in that place during the reign of Charles the

Second, but had not been seen there under his successor. Most of those

Tory squires, and of those needy retainers of the court, who had been

returned in multitudes to the Parliament of 1685, had given place to

the men of the old country party, the men who had driven the Cabal from

power, who had carried the Habeas Corpus Act, and who had sent up the

Exclusion Bill to the Lords. Among them was Powle, deeply read in the

history and law of Parliament, and distinguished by the species of

eloquence which is required when grave questions are to be solemnly

brought under the notice of senates; and Sir Thomas Littleton, versed in

European politics, and gifted with a vehement and piercing logic which

had often, when, after a long sitting, the candles had been lighted,

roused the languishing House, and decided the event of the debate.

There, too, was William Sacheverell, an orator whose great parliamentary

abilities were, many years later, a favourite theme of old men who lived

to see the conflicts of Walpole and Pulteney. [638] With these eminent

persons was joined Sir Robert Clayton, the wealthiest merchant of

London, whose palace in the Old Jewry surpassed in splendour the

aristocratical mansions of Lincoln's Inn Fields and Covent Garden, whose

villa among the Surrey hills was described as a garden of Eden, whose

banquets vied with those of Kings, and whose judicious munificence,

still attested by numerous public monuments, had obtained for him in

the annals of the City a place second only to that of Gresham. In the

Parliament which met at Oxford in 1681, Clayton had, as member for the

capital, and at the request of his constituents, moved for leave to

bring in the Bill of Exclusion, and had been seconded by Lord Russell.

In 1685 the City, deprived of its franchises and governed by the

creatures of the court, had returned four Tory representatives. But the

old charter had now been restored; and Clayton had been again chosen by

acclamation. [639] Nor must John Birch be passed over. He had begun

life as a carter, but had, in the civil wars, left his team, had

turned soldier, had risen to the rank of Colonel in the army of the

Commonwealth, had, in high fiscal offices, shown great talents for

business, had sate many years in Parliament, and, though retaining to

the last the rough manners and plebeian dialect of his youth, had, by

strong sense and mother wit, gained the ear of the Commons, and was

regarded as a formidable opponent by the most accomplished debaters of

his time. [640] These were the most conspicuous among the veterans who

now, after a long seclusion, returned to public life. But they were all

speedily thrown into the shade by two younger Whigs, who, on this great

day, took their seats for the first time, who soon rose to the highest

honours of the state, who weathered together the fiercest storms of

faction, and who, having been long and widely renowned as statesmen, as

orators, and as munificent patrons of genius and learning, died, within

a few months of each other, soon after the accession of the House of

Brunswick. These were Charles Montague and John Somers.

One other name must be mentioned, a name then known only to a small

circle of philosophers, but now pronounced beyond the Ganges and the

Mississippi with reverence exceeding that which is paid to the memory

of the greatest warriors and rulers. Among the crowd of silent members

appeared the majestic forehead and pensive face of Isaac Newton. The

renowned University on which his genius had already begun to impress

a peculiar character, still plainly discernible after the lapse of a

hundred and sixty years, had sent him to the Convention; and he sate

there, in his modest greatness, the unobtrusive but unflinching friend

of civil and religious freedom.

The first act of the Commons was to choose a Speaker; and the choice

which they made indicated in a manner not to be mistaken their opinion

touching the great questions which they were about to decide. Down to

the very eve of the meeting, it had been understood that Seymour would

be placed in the chair. He had formerly sate there during several years.

He had great and various titles to consideration; descent, fortune,

knowledge, experience, eloquence. He had long been at the head of a

powerful band of members from the Western counties. Though a Tory, he

had in the last Parliament headed, with conspicuous ability and courage,

the opposition to Popery and arbitrary power. He had been among the

first gentlemen who had repaired to the Dutch head quarters at Exeter,

and had been the author of that association by which the Prince's

adherents had bound themselves to stand or fall together. But, a few

hours before the Houses met, a rumour was spread that Seymour was

against declaring the throne vacant. As soon, therefore, as the benches

had filled, the Earl of Wiltshire, who represented Hampshire, stood up,

and proposed that Powle should be Speaker. Sir Vere Fane, member for

Kent, seconded the motion. A plausible objection might have been raised;

for it was known that a petition was about to be presented against

Powle's return: but the general cry of the House called him to the

chair; and the Tories thought it prudent to acquiesce. [641] The mace

was then laid on the table; the list of members was called over; and the

names of the defaulters were noted.

Meanwhile the Peers, about a hundred in number, had met, had chosen

Halifax to be their Speaker, and had appointed several eminent lawyers

to perform the functions which, in regular Parliaments, belong to the

judges. There was, in the course of that day, frequent communication

between the Houses. They joined in requesting that the Prince would

continue to administer the government till he should hear further from

them, in expressing to him their gratitude for the deliverance which

he, under God, had wrought for the nation, and in directing that the

thirty-first of January should be observed as a day of thanksgiving for

that deliverance. [642]

Thus far no difference of opinion had appeared: but both sides were

preparing for the conflict. The Tories were strong in the Upper House,

and weak in the Lower; and they knew that, at such a conjuncture, the

House which should be the first to come to a resolution would have a

great advantage over the other. There was not the least chance that

the Commons would send up to the Lords a vote in favour of the plan

of Regency: but, if such a vote were sent down from the Lords to the

Commons, it was not absolutely impossible that many even of the Whig

representatives of the people might be disposed to acquiesce rather than

take the grave responsibility of causing discord and delay at a crisis

which required union and expedition. The Commons had determined that, on

Monday the twenty-eighth of January, they would take into consideration

the state of the nation. The Tory Lords therefore proposed, on Friday

the twenty-fifth, to enter instantly on the great business for which

they had been called together. But their motives were clearly discerned

and their tactics frustrated by Halifax, who, ever since his return

from Hungerford, had seen that the settlement of the government could be

effected on Whig principles only, and who had therefore, for the time,

allied himself closely with the Whigs. Devonshire moved that Tuesday the

twenty-ninth should be the day. "By that time," he said with more truth

than discretion, "we may have some lights from below which may be useful

for our guidance." His motion was carried; but his language was severely

censured by some of his brother peers as derogatory to their order.

[643]

On the twenty-eighth the Commons resolved themselves into a committee of

the whole House. A member who had, more than thirty years before, been

one of Cromwell's Lords, Richard Hampden, son of the illustrious leader

of the Roundheads, and father of the unhappy man who had, by large

bribes and degrading submissions, narrowly escaped with life from the

vengeance of James, was placed in the chair, and the great debate began.

It was soon evident that an overwhelming majority considered James as no

longer King. Gilbert Dolben, son of the late Archbishop of York, was the

first who declared himself to be of that opinion. He was supported by

many members, particularly by the bold and vehement Wharton, by Sawyer,

whose steady opposition to the dispensing power had, in some measure,

atoned for old offences, by Maynard, whose voice, though so feeble with

age that it could not be heard on distant benches, still commanded the

respect of all parties, and by Somers, whose luminous eloquence and

varied stores of knowledge were on that day exhibited, for the first

time, within the walls of Parliament. The unblushing forehead and

voluble tongue of Sir William Williams were found on the same side.

Already he had been deeply concerned in the excesses both of the worst

of oppositions and of the worst of governments. He had persecuted

innocent Papists and innocent Protestants. He had been the patron of

Oates and the tool of Petre. His name was associated with seditious

violence which was remembered with regret and shame by all respectable

Whigs, and with freaks of despotism abhorred by all respectable Tories.

How men live under such infamy it is not easy to understand: but even

such infamy was not enough for Williams. He was not ashamed to attack

the fallen master to whom he had hired himself out for work which no

honest man in the Inns of Court would undertake, and from whom he had,

within six months, accepted a baronetcy as the reward of servility.

Only three members ventured to oppose themselves to what was evidently

the general sense of the assembly. Sir Christopher Musgrave, a Tory

gentleman of great weight and ability, hinted some doubts. Heneage Finch

let fall some expressions which were understood to mean that he wished

a negotiation to be opened with the King. This suggestion was so ill

received that he made haste to explain it away. He protested that he had

been misapprehended. He was convinced that, under such a prince, there

could be no security for religion, liberty, or property. To recall King

James, or to treat with him, would be a fatal course; but many who would

never consent that he should exercise the regal power had conscientious

scruples about depriving him of the royal title. There was one expedient

which would remove all difficulties, a Regency. This proposition found

so little favour that Finch did not venture to demand a division.

Richard Fanshaw, Viscount Fanshaw of the kingdom of Ireland, said a

few words in behalf of James, and recommended an adjournment: but the

recommendation was met by a general outcry. Member after member stood up

to represent the importance of despatch. Every moment, it was said,

was precious, the public anxiety was intense, trade was suspended. The

minority sullenly submitted, and suffered the predominant party to take

its own course.

What that course would be was not perfectly clear. For the majority was

made up of two classes. One class consisted of eager and vehement Whigs,

who, if they had been able to take their own course, would have given to

the proceedings of the Convention a decidedly revolutionary character.

The other class admitted that a revolution was necessary, but regarded

it as a necessary evil, and wished to disguise it, as much as possible,

under the show of legitimacy. The former class demanded a distinct

recognition of the right of subjects to dethrone bad princes. The latter

class desired to rid the country of one bad prince, without promulgating

any doctrine which might be abused for the purpose of weakening the

just and salutary authority of future monarchs. The former class dwelt

chiefly on the King's misgovernment; the latter on his flight. The

former class considered him as having forfeited his crown; the latter as

having resigned it. It was not easy to draw up any form of words which

would please all whose assent it was important to obtain; but at length,

out of many suggestions offered from different quarters, a resolution

was framed which gave general satisfaction. It was moved that King

James the Second, having endeavoured to subvert the constitution of the

kingdom by breaking the original contract between King and people, and,

by the advice of Jesuits and other wicked persons, having violated the

fundamental laws, and having withdrawn himself out of the kingdom, had

abdicated the government, and that the throne had thereby become vacant.

This resolution has been many times subjected to criticism as minute and

severe as was ever applied to any sentence written by man, and perhaps

there never was a sentence written by man which would bear such

criticism less. That a King by grossly abusing his power may forfeit it

is true. That a King, who absconds without making any provision for

the administration, and leaves his people in a state of anarchy, may,

without any violent straining of language, be said to have abdicated his

functions is also true. But no accurate writer would affirm that long

continued misgovernment and desertion, added together, make up an act of

abdication. It is evident too that the mention of the Jesuits and other

evil advisers of James weakens, instead of strengthening, the case

against him. For surely more indulgence is due to a man misled by

pernicious counsel than to a man who goes wrong from the mere impulse of

his own mind. It is idle, however, to examine these memorable words as

we should examine a chapter of Aristotle or of Hobbes. Such words are

to be considered, not as words, but as deeds. If they effect that which

they are intended to effect, they are rational, though they may be

contradictory. It they fail of attaining their end, they are absurd,

though they carry demonstration with them. Logic admits of no

compromise. The essense of politics is compromise. It is therefore

not strange that some of the most important and most useful political

instruments in the world should be among the most illogical compositions

that ever were penned. The object of Somers, of Maynard, and of the

other eminent men who shaped this celebrated motion was, not to leave

to posterity a model of definition and partition, but to make the

restoration of a tyrant impossible, and to place on the throne a

sovereign under whom law and liberty might be secure. This object they

attained by using language which, in a philosophical treatise, would

justly be reprehended as inexact and confused. They cared little whether

their major agreed with their conclusion, if the major secured two

hundred votes, and the conclusion two hundred more. In fact the one

beauty of the resolution is its inconsistency. There was a phrase for

every subdivision of the majority. The mention of the original contract

gratified the disciples of Sidney. The word abdication conciliated

politicians of a more timid school. There were doubtless many fervent

Protestants who were pleased with the censure cast on the Jesuits. To

the real statesman the single important clause was that which declared

the throne vacant; and, if that clause could be carried, he cared little

by what preamble it might be introduced. The force which was thus united

made all resistance hopeless. The motion was adopted by the Committee

without a division. It was ordered that the report should be instantly

made. Powle returned to the chair: the mace was laid on the table:

Hampden brought up the resolution: the House instantly agreed to it, and

ordered him to carry it to the Lords. [644]

On the following morning the Lords assembled early. The benches both of

the spiritual and of the temporal peers were crowded. Hampden appeared

at the bar, and put the resolution of the Commons into the hands of

Halifax. The Upper House then resolved itself into a committee; and

Danby took the chair. The discussion was soon interrupted by the

reappearance of Hampden with another message. The House resumed and was

informed that the Commons had just voted it inconsistent with the safety

and welfare of this Protestant nation to be governed by a Popish King.

To this resolution, irreconcilable as it obviously was with the doctrine

of indefeasible hereditary right, the Peers gave an immediate and

unanimous assent. The principle which was thus affirmed has always, down

to our own time, been held sacred by all Protestant statesmen, and has

never been considered by any reasonable Roman Catholic as objectionable.

If, indeed, our sovereigns were, like the Presidents of the United

States, mere civil functionaries, it would not be easy to vindicate such

a restriction. But the headship of the English Church is annexed to the

English crown; and there is no intolerance in saying that a Church

ought not to be subjected to a head who regards her as schismatical and

heretical. [645]

After this short interlude the Lords again went into committee. The

Tories insisted that their plan should be discussed before the vote of

the Commons which declared the throne vacant was considered. This was

conceded to them; and the question was put whether a Regency, exercising

kingly power during the life of James, in his name, would be the best

expedient for preserving the laws and liberties of the nation?

The contest was long and animated. The chief speakers in favour of a

Regency were Rochester and Nottingham. Halifax and Danby led the other

side. The Primate, strange to say, did not make his appearance, though

earnestly importuned by the Tory peers to place himself at their head.

His absence drew on him many contumelious censures; nor have even his

eulogists been able to find any explanation of it which raises his

character. [646] The plan of Regency was his own. He had, a few days

before, in a paper written with his own hand, pronounced that plan to be

clearly the best that could be adopted. The deliberations of the

Lords who supported that plan had been carried on under his roof. His

situation made it his clear duty to declare publicly what he thought.

Nobody can suspect him of personal cowardice or of vulgar cupidity.

It was probably from a nervous fear of doing wrong that, at this great

conjuncture, he did nothing: but he should have known that, situated as

he was, to do nothing was to do wrong. A man who is too scrupulous to

take on himself a grave responsibility at an important crisis ought to

be too scrupulous to accept the place of first minister of the Church

and first peer of the realm.

It is not strange, however, that Sancroft's mind should have been ill at

case; for he could hardly be blind to the obvious truth that the scheme

which he had recommended to his friends was utterly inconsistent with

all that he and his brethren had been teaching during many years. That

the King had a divine and indefeasible right to the regal power, and

that the regal power, even when most grossly abused, could not without

sin, be resisted, was the doctrine in which the Anglican Church had long

gloried. Did this doctrine then really mean only that the King had a

divine and indefeasible right to have his effigy and name cut on a seal

which was to be daily employed in despite of him for the purpose of

commissioning his enemies to levy war on him, and of sending his friends

to the gallows for obeying him? Did the whole duty of a good subject

consist in using the word King? If so, Fairfax at Naseby and Bradshaw in

the High Court of justice had performed all the duty of good subjects.

For Charles had been designated by the generals who commanded against

him, and even by the judges who condemned him, as King. Nothing in the

conduct of the Long Parliament had been more severely blamed by the

Church than the ingenious device of using the name of Charles against

himself. Every one of her ministers had been required to sign a

declaration condemning as traitorous the fiction by which the authority

of the sovereign had been separated from his person. [647] Yet this

traitorous fiction was now considered by the Primate and by many of his

suffragans as the only basis on which they could, in strict conformity

with Christian principles, erect a government.

The distinction which Sancroft had borrowed from the Roundheads of

the preceding generation subverted from the foundation that system of

politics which the Church and the Universities pretended to have learned

from Saint Paul. The Holy Spirit, it had been a thousand times repeated,

had commanded the Romans to be subject to Nero. The meaning of the

precept now appeared to be only that the Romans were to call Nero

Augustus. They were perfectly at liberty to chase him beyond the

Euphrates, to leave him a pensioner on the bounty of the Parthians,

to withstand him by force if he attempted to return, to punish all who

aided him or corresponded with him, and to transfer the Tribunitian

power and the Consular power, the Presidency of the Senate and the

command of the Legions, to Galba or Vespasian.

The analogy which the Archbishop imagined that he had discovered between

the case of a wrongheaded King and the case of a lunatic King will not

bear a moment's examination. It was plain that James was not in

that state of mind in which, if he had been a country gentleman or a

merchant, any tribunal would have held him incapable of executing a

contract or a will. He was of unsound mind only as all bad Kings are of

unsound mind; as Charles the First had been of unsound mind when he went

to seize the five members; as Charles the Second had been of unsound

mind when he concluded the treaty of Dover. If this sort of mental

unsoundness did not justify subjects in withdrawing their obedience from

princes, the plan of a Regency was evidently indefensible. If this

sort of mental unsoundness did justify subjects in withdrawing their

obedience from princes, the doctrine of nonresistance was completely

given up; and all that any moderate Whig had ever contended for was

fully admitted.

As to the oath of allegiance about which Sancroft and his disciples were

so anxious, one thing at least is clear, that, whoever might be right,

they were wrong. The Whigs held that, in the oath of allegiance, certain

conditions were implied, that the King had violated these conditions,

and that the oath had therefore lost its force. But, if the Whig

doctrine were false, if the oath were still binding, could men of sense

really believe that they escaped the guilt of perjury by voting for a

Regency? Could they affirm that they bore true allegiance to James

while they were in defiance of his protestations made before all Europe,

authorising another person to receive the royal revenues, to summon and

prorogue parliaments, to create Dukes and Earls, to name Bishops and

judges, to pardon offenders, to command the forces of the state, and to

conclude treaties with foreign powers? Had Pascal been able to find, in

all the folios of the Jesuitical casuists, a sophism more contemptible

than that which now, as it seemed, sufficed to quiet the consciences of

the fathers of the Anglican Church?

Nothing could be more evident than that the plan of Regency could be

defended only on Whig principles. Between the rational supporters of

that plan and the majority of the House of Commons there could be no

dispute as to the question of right. All that remained was a question

of expediency. And would any statesman seriously contend that it was

expedient to constitute a government with two heads, and to give to one

of those heads regal power without regal dignity, and to the other regal

dignity without regal power? It was notorious that such an arrangement,

even when made necessary by the infancy or insanity of a prince, had

serious disadvantages. That times of Regency were times of weakness,

of trouble and of disaster, was a truth proved by the whole history of

England, of France, and of Scotland, and had almost become a proverb.

Yet, in a case of infancy or of insanity, the King was at least passive.

He could not actively counterwork the Regent. What was now proposed was

that England should have two first magistrate, of ripe age and sound

mind, waging with each other an irreconcilable war. It was absurd to

talk of leaving James merely the kingly name, and depriving him of all

the kingly power. For the name was a part of the power. The word King

was a word of conjuration. It was associated in the minds of many

Englishmen with the idea of a mysterious character derived from above,

and in the minds of almost all Englishmen with the idea of legitimate

and venerable authority. Surely, if the title carried with it such

power, those who maintained that James ought to be deprived of all power

could not deny that he ought to be deprived of the title.

And how long was the anomalous government planned by the genius of

Sancroft to last? Every argument which could be urged for setting it up

at all might be urged with equal force for retaining it to the end of

time. If the boy who had been carried into France was really born of the

Queen, he would hereafter inherit the divine and indefeasible right to

be called King. The same right would very probably be transmitted from

Papist to Papist through the whole of the eighteenth and nineteenth

centuries. Both the Houses had unanimously resolved that England should

not be governed by a Papist. It might well be, therefore, that, from

generation to generation, Regents would continue to administer the

government in the name of vagrant and mendicant Kings. There was no

doubt that the Regents must be appointed by Parliament. The effect,

therefore, of this contrivance, a contrivance intended to preserve

unimpaired the sacred principle of hereditary monarchy, would be that

the monarchy would become really elective.

Another unanswerable reason was urged against Sancroft's plan. There was

in the statute book a law which had been passed soon after the close of

the long and bloody contest between the Houses of York and Lancaster,

and which had been framed for the purpose of averting calamities such as

the alternate victories of those Houses had brought on the nobility and

gentry of the realm. By this law it was provided that no person should,

by adhering to a King in possession, incur the penalties of treason.

When the regicides were brought to trial after the Restoration, some of

them insisted that their case lay within the equity of this act. They

had obeyed, they said, the government which was in possession, and were

therefore not traitors. The Judges admitted that this would have been

a good defence if the prisoners had acted under the authority of an

usurper who, like Henry the Fourth and Richard the Third, bore the regal

title, but declared that such a defence could not avail men who had

indicted, sentenced, and executed one who, in the indictment, in the

sentence, and in the death warrant, was designated as King. It followed,

therefore, that whoever should support a Regent in opposition to James

would run great risk of being hanged, drawn, and quartered, if ever

James should recover supreme power; but that no person could, without

such a violation of law as Jeffreys himself would hardly venture to

commit, be punished for siding with a King who was reigning, though

wrongfully, at Whitehall, against a rightful King who was in exile at

Saint Germains. [648]

It should seem that these arguments admit of no reply; and they were

doubtless urged with force by Danby, who had a wonderful power of

making every subject which he treated clear to the dullest mind, and by

Halifax, who, in fertility of thought and brilliancy of diction, had no

rival among the orators of that age. Yet so numerous and powerful were

the Tories in the Upper House that, notwithstanding the weakness of

their case, the defection of their leader, and the ability of their

opponents, they very nearly carried the day. A hundred Lords divided.

Forty-nine voted for a Regency, fifty-one against it. In the minority

were the natural children of Charles, the brothers in law of James, the

Dukes of Somerset and Ormond, the Archbishop of York and eleven Bishops.

No prelate voted in the majority except Compton and Trelawney. [649]

It was near nine in the evening before the House rose. The following day

was the thirtieth of January, the anniversary of the death of Charles

the First. The great body of the Anglican clergy had, during many years,

thought it a sacred duty to inculcate on that day the doctrines of

nonresistance and passive obedience. Their old sermons were now of

little use; and many divines were even in doubt whether they could

venture to read the whole Liturgy. The Lower House had declared that the

throne was vacant. The Upper had not yet expressed any opinion. It was

therefore not easy to decide whether the prayers for the sovereign ought

to be used. Every officiating minister took his own course. In most of

the churches of the capital the petitions for James were omitted: but

at Saint Margaret's, Sharp, Dean of Norwich, who had been requested

to preach before the Commons, not only read to their faces the whole

service as it stood in the book, but, before his sermon, implored, in

his own words, a blessing on the King, and, towards the close of his

discourse, declaimed against the Jesuitical doctrine that princes might

lawfully be deposed by their subjects. The Speaker, that very afternoon,

complained to the House of this affront. "You pass a vote one day," he

said; "and on the next day it is contradicted from the pulpit in your

own hearing." Sharp was strenuously defended by the Tories, and had

friends even among the Whigs: for it was not forgotten that he had

incurred serious danger in the evil times by the courage with which, in

defiance of the royal injunction, he had preached against Popery. Sir

Christopher Musgrave very ingeniously remarked that the House had not

ordered the resolution which declared the throne vacant to be published.

Sharp, therefore, was not only not bound to know anything of that

resolution, but could not have taken notice of it without a breach of

privilege for which he might have been called to the bar and reprimanded

on his knees. The majority felt that it was not wise at that conjuncture

to quarrel with the clergy; and the subject was suffered to drop. [650]

While the Commons were discussing Sharp's sermon, the Lords had again

gone into a committee on the state of the nation, and had ordered the

resolution which pronounced the throne vacant to be read clause by

clause.

The first expression on which a debate arose was that which recognised

the original contract between King and people. It was not to be

expected that the Tory peers would suffer a phrase which contained the

quintessence of Whiggism to pass unchallenged. A division took place;

and it was determined by fifty-three votes to forty-six that the words

should stand.

The severe censure passed by the Commons on the administration of James

was next considered, and was approved without one dissentient voice.

Some verbal objections were made to the proposition that James had

abdicated the government. It was urged that he might more correctly be

said to have deserted it. This amendment was adopted, it should seem,

with scarcely any debate, and without a division. By this time it was

late; and the Lords again adjourned. [651]

Up to this moment the small body of peers which was under the guidance

of Danby had acted in firm union with Halifax and the Whigs. The effect

of this union had been that the plan of Regency had been rejected, and

the doctrine of the original contract affirmed. The proposition that

James had ceased to be King had been the rallying point of the two

parties which had made up the majority. But from that point their path

diverged. The next question to be decided was whether the throne

was vacant; and this was a question not merely verbal, but of grave

practical importance. If the throne was vacant, the Estates of the Realm

might place William in it. If it was not vacant, he could succeed to it

only after his wife, after Anne, and after Anne's posterity.

It was, according to the followers of Danby, an established maxim that

our country could not be, even for a moment, without a rightful prince.

The man might die; but the magistrate was immortal. The man might

abdicate; but the magistrate was irremoveable. If, these politicians

said, we once admit that the throne is vacant, we admit that it is

elective. The sovereign whom we may place on it will be a sovereign, not

after the English, but after the Polish, fashion. Even if we choose the

very person who would reign by right of birth, still that person will

reign not by right of birth, but in virtue of our choice, and will take

as a gift what ought to be regarded as an inheritance. That salutary

reverence with which the blood royal and the order of primogeniture have

hitherto been regarded will be greatly diminished. Still more serious

will the evil be, if we not only fill the throne by election, but fill

it with a prince who has doubtless the qualities of a great and good

ruler, and who has wrought a wonderful deliverance for us, but who is

not first nor even second in the order of succession. If we once say

that, merit, however eminent, shall be a title to the crown, we disturb

the very foundations of our polity, and furnish a precedent of which

every ambitious warrior or statesman who may have rendered any great

service to the public will be tempted to avail himself. This danger we

avoid if we logically follow out the principles of the constitution to

their consequences. There has been a demise of the crown. At the instant

of the demise the next heir became our lawful sovereign. We consider the

Princess of Orange as next heir; and we hold that she ought, without any

delay, to be proclaimed, what she already is, our Queen.

The Whigs replied that it was idle to apply ordinary rules to a country

in a state of revolution, that the great question now depending was not

to be decided by the saws of pedantic Templars, and that, if it were

to be so decided, such saws might be quoted on one side as well as the

other. If it were a legal maxim that the throne could never be vacant,

it was also a legal maxim that a living man could have no heir. James

was still living. How then could the Princess of Orange be his heir?

The truth was that the laws of England had made full provision for the

succession when the power of a sovereign and his natural life terminated

together, but had made no provision for the very rare cases in which his

power terminated before the close of his natural life; and with one

of those very rare cases the Convention had now to deal. That James no

longer filled the throne both Houses had pronounced. Neither common law

nor statute law designated any person as entitled to fill the throne

between his demise and his decease. It followed that the throne was

vacant, and that the Houses might invite the Prince of Orange to fill

it. That he was not next in order of birth was true: but this was

no disadvantage: on the contrary, it was a positive recommendation.

Hereditary monarchy was a good political institution, but was by no

means more sacred than other good political institutions. Unfortunately,

bigoted and servile theologians had turned it into a religious mystery,

almost as awful and as incomprehensible as transubstantiation itself.

To keep the institution, and yet to get rid of the abject and noxious

superstitions with which it had of late years been associated and which

had made it a curse instead of a blessing to society, ought to be

the first object of English statesmen; and that object would be best

attained by slightly deviating for a time from the general rule of

descent, and by then returning to it.

Many attempts were made to prevent an open breach between the party of

the Prince and the party of the Princess. A great meeting was held at

the Earl of Devonshire's House, and the dispute was warm. Halifax was

the chief speaker for William, Danby for Mary. Of the mind of Mary Danby

knew nothing. She had been some time expected in London, but had been

detained in Holland, first by masses of ice which had blocked up the

rivers, and, when the thaw came, by strong westerly winds. Had she

arrived earlier the dispute would probably have been at once quieted.

Halifax on the other side had no authority to say anything in William's

name. The Prince, true to his promise that he would leave the settlement

of the government to the Convention, had maintained an impenetrable

reserve, and had not suffered any word, look, or gesture, indicative

either of satisfaction or of displeasure, to escape him. One of his

countrymen, who had a large share of his confidence, had been invited

to the meeting, and was earnestly pressed by the Peers to give them some

information. He long excused himself. At last he so far yielded to their

urgency as to say, "I can only guess at His Highness's mind. If you wish

to know what I guess, I guess that he would not like to be his wife's

gentleman usher: but I know nothing." "I know something now, however,"

said Danby. "I know enough, and too much." He then departed; and the

assembly broke up. [652]

On the thirty-first of January the debate which had terminated thus in

private was publicly renewed in the House of Peers. That day had been

fixed for the national thanksgiving. An office had been drawn up for

the occasion by several Bishops, among whom were Ken and Sprat. It is

perfectly free both from the adulation and from the malignity by which

such compositions were in that age too often deformed, and sustains,

better perhaps than any occasional service which has been framed during

two centuries, a comparison with that great model of chaste, lofty, and

pathetic eloquence, the Book of Common Prayer. The Lords went in the

morning to Westminster Abbey. The Commons had desired Burnet to preach

before them at Saint Margaret's. He was not likely to fall into the same

error which had been committed in the same place on the preceding day.

His vigorous and animated discourse doubtless called forth the loud hums

of his auditors. It was not only printed by command of the House, but

was translated into French for the edification of foreign Protestants.

[653] The day closed with the festivities usual on such occasions. The

whole town shone brightly with fireworks and bonfires: the roar of

guns and the pealing of bells lasted till the night was far spent; but,

before the lights were extinct and the streets silent, an event had

taken place which threw a damp on the public joy.

The Peers had repaired from the Abbey to their house, and had resumed

the discussion on the state of the nation. The last words of the

resolution of the Commons were taken into consideration; and it soon

became clear that the majority was not disposed to assent to those

words. To near fifty Lords who held that the regal title still belonged

to James were now added seven or eight who held that it had already

devolved on Mary. The Whigs, finding themselves outnumbered, tried to

compromise the dispute. They proposed to omit the words which pronounced

the throne vacant, and simply to declare the Prince and Princess King

and Queen. It was manifest that such a declaration implied, though it

did not expressly affirm, all that the Tories were unwilling to concede.

For nobody could pretend that William had succeeded to the regal office

by right of birth. To pass a resolution acknowledging him as King was

therefore an act of election; and how could there be an election without

a vacancy? The proposition of the Whig Lords was rejected by fifty-two

votes to forty-seven. The question was then put whether the throne was

vacant. The contents were only forty-one: the noncontents fifty-five. Of

the minority thirty-six protested. [654]

During the two following days London was in an unquiet and anxious

state. The Tories began to hope that they might be able again to bring

forward their favourite plan of Regency with better success. Perhaps

the Prince himself, when he found that he had no chance of wearing

the crown, might prefer Sancroft's scheme to Danby's. It was better

doubtless to be a King than to be a Regent: but it was better to be a

Regent than to be a gentleman usher. On the other side the lower and

fiercer class of Whigs, the old emissaries of Shaftesbury, the old

associates of College, began to stir in the City. Crowds assembled

in Palace Yard, and held threatening language. Lord Lovelace, who was

suspected of having encouraged these assemblages, informed the Peers

that he was charged with a petition requesting them instantly to declare

the Prince and Princess of Orange King and Queen. He was asked by whom

the petition was signed. "There are no hands to it yet," he answered;

"but, when I bring it here next, there shall be hands enough." This

menace alarmed and disgusted his own party. The leading Whigs were, in

truth, even more anxious than the Tories that the deliberations of the

Convention should be perfectly free, and that it should not be in the

power of any adherent of James to allege that either House had acted

under force. A petition, similar to that which had been entrusted to

Lovelace, was brought into the House of Commons, but was contemptuously

rejected. Maynard was foremost in protesting against the attempt of the

rabble in the streets to overawe the Estates of the Realm. William

sent for Lovelace, expostulated with him strongly, and ordered the

magistrates to act with vigour against all unlawful assemblies. [655]

Nothing in the history of our revolution is more deserving of admiration

and of imitation than the manner in which the two parties in the

Convention, at the very moment at which their disputes ran highest,

joined like one man to resist the dictation of the mob of the capital.

But, though the Whigs were fully determined to maintain order and to

respect the freedom of debate, they were equally determined to make no

concession. On Saturday the second of February the Commons, without a

division, resolved to adhere to their resolution as it originally stood.

James, as usual, came to the help of his enemies. A letter from him to

the Convention had just arrived in London. It had been transmitted to

Preston by the apostate Melfort, who was now high in favour at Saint

Germains. The name of Melfort was an abomination to every Churchman.

That he was still a confidential minister was alone sufficient to prove

that his master's folly and perverseness were incurable. No member of

either House ventured to propose that a paper which came from such a

quarter should be read. The contents, however, were well known to all

the town. His Majesty exhorted the Lords and Commons not to despair of

his clemency, and graciously assured them that he would pardon those who

had betrayed him, some few excepted, whom he did not name. How was

it possible to do any thing for a prince who, vanquished, deserted,

banished, living on alms, told those who were the arbiters of his fate

that, if they would set him on his throne again, he would hang only a

few of them? [656]

The contest between the two branches of the legislature lasted some days

longer. On Monday the fourth of February the Peers resolved that they

would insist on their amendments but a protest to which thirty-nine

names were subscribed was entered on the journals. [657] On the

following day the Tories determined to try their strength in the Lower

House. They mustered there in great force. A motion was made to agree to

the amendments of the Lords. Those who were for the plan of Sancroft

and those who were for the plan of Danby divided together; but they were

beaten by two hundred and eighty-two votes to a hundred and fifty-one.

The House then resolved to request a free conference with the Lords.

[658]

At the same time strenuous efforts were making without the walls

of Parliament to bring the dispute between the two branches of the

legislature to a close. Burnet thought that the importance of the crisis

justified him in publishing the great secret which the Princess had

confided to him. He knew, he said, from her own lips, that it had long

been her full determination, even if she came to the throne in the

regular course of descent, to surrender her power, with the sanction of

Parliament, into the hands of her husband. Danby received from her an

earnest, and almost angry, reprimand. She was, she wrote, the Prince's

wife; she had no other wish than to be subject to him; the most

cruel injury that could be done to her would be to set her up as his

competitor; and she never could regard any person who took such a course

as her true friend. [659] The Tories had still one hope. Anne might

insist on her own rights, and on those of her children. No effort was

spared to stimulate her ambition, and to alarm her conscience. Her uncle

Clarendon was especially active. A few weeks only had elapsed since

the hope of wealth and greatness had impelled him to bely the boastful

professions of his whole life, to desert the royal cause, to join with

the Wildmans and Fergusons, nay, to propose that the King should be

sent a prisoner to a foreign land and immured in a fortress begirt

by pestilential marshes. The lure which had produced this strange

transformation was the Viceroyalty of Ireland. Soon, however, it

appeared that the proselyte had little chance of obtaining the splendid

prize on which his heart was set. He found that others were consulted

on Irish affairs. His advice was never asked, and, when obtrusively and

importunately offered, was coldly received. He repaired many times to

Saint James's Palace, but could scarcely obtain a word or a look. One

day the Prince was writing, another day he wanted fresh air and must

ride in the Park; on a third he was closeted with officers on military

business and could see nobody. Clarendon saw that he was not likely to

gain anything by the sacrifice of his principles, and determined to take

them back again. In December ambition had converted him into a rebel.

In January disappointment reconverted him into a royalist. The uneasy

consciousness that he had not been a consistent Tory gave a peculiar

acrimony to his Toryism. [660] In the House of Lords he had done all in

his power to prevent a settlement. He now exerted, for the same end,

all his influence over the Princess Anne. But his influence over her

was small indeed when compared with that of the Churchills, who wisely

called to their help two powerful allies, Tillotson, who, as a spiritual

director, had, at that time, immense authority, and Lady Russell, whose

noble and gentle virtues, proved by the most cruel of all trials, had

gained for her the reputation of a saint. The Princess of Denmark, it

was soon known, was willing that William should reign for life; and it

was evident that to defend the cause of the daughters of James against

themselves was a hopeless task. [661]

And now William thought that the time had come when he ought to explain

himself. He accordingly sent for Halifax, Danby, Shrewsbury, and some

other political leaders of great note, and, with that air of stoical

apathy under which he had, from a boy, been in the habit of concealing

his strongest emotions, addressed to them a few deeply meditated and

weighty words.

He had hitherto, he said, remained silent; he had used neither

solicitation nor menace: he had not even suffered a hint of his opinions

or wishes to get abroad: but a crisis had now arrived at which it was

necessary for him to declare his intentions. He had no right and no wish

to dictate to the Convention. All that he claimed was the privilege of

declining any office which he felt that he could not hold with honour to

himself and with benefit to the public.

A strong party was for a Regency. It was for the Houses to determine

whether such an arrrangement would be for the interest of the nation.

He had a decided opinion on that point; and he thought it right to say

distinctly that he would not be Regent.

Another party was for placing the Princess on the throne, and for giving

to him, during her life, the title of King, and such a share in the

administration as she might be pleased to allow him. He could not stoop

to such a post. He esteemed the Princess as much as it was possible for

man to esteem woman: but not even from her would he accept a subordinate

and a precarious place in the government. He was so made that he could

not submit to be tied to the apron strings even of the best of wives.

He did not desire to take any part in English affairs; but, if he did

consent to take a part, there was one part only which he could usefully

or honourably take. If the Estates offered him the crown for life, he

would accept it. If not, he should, without repining, return to his

native country. He concluded by saying that he thought it reasonable

that the Lady Anne and her posterity should be preferred in the

succession to any children whom he might have by any other wife than the

Lady Mary. [662]

The meeting broke up; and what the Prince had said was in a few hours

known all over London. That he must be King was now clear. The

only question was whether he should hold the regal dignity alone or

conjointly with the Princess. Halifax and a few other politicians,

who saw in a strong light the danger of dividing the supreme executive

authority, thought it desirable that, during William's life, Mary should

be only Queen Consort and a subject. But this arrangement, though much

might doubtless be said for it in argument, shocked the general feeling

even of those Englishmen who were most attached to the Prince. His wife

had given an unprecedented proof of conjugal submission and affection;

and the very least return that could be made to her would be to bestow

on her the dignity of Queen Regnant. William Herbert, one of the most

zealous of the Prince's adherents, was so much exasperated that he

sprang out of the bed to which he was confined by gout, and vehemently

declared that he never would have drawn a sword in His Highness's cause

if he had foreseen that so shameful an arrangement would be made. No

person took the matter up so eagerly as Burnet. His blood boiled at

the wrong done to his kind patroness. He expostulated vehemently with

Bentinck, and begged to be permitted to resign the chaplainship. "While

I am His Highness's servant," said the brave and honest divine,

"it would be unseemly in me to oppose any plan which may have his

countenance. I therefore desire to be set free, that I may fight the

Princess's battle with every faculty that God has given me." Bentinck

prevailed on Burnet to defer an open declaration of hostilities till

William's resolution should be distinctly known. In a few hours the

scheme which had excited so much resentment was entirely given up; and

all those who considered James as no longer king were agreed as to the

way in which the throne must be filled. William and Mary must be King

and Queen. The heads of both must appear together on the coin: writs

must run in the names of both: both must enjoy all the personal

dignities and immunities of royalty: but the administration, which could

not be safely divided, must belong to William alone. [663]

And now the time arrived for the free conference between the Houses. The

managers for the Lords, in their robes, took their seats along one side

of the table in the Painted Chamber: but the crowd of members of the

House of Commons on the other side was so great that the gentlemen who

were to argue the question in vain tried to get through. It was not

without much difficulty and long delay that the Serjeant at Arms was

able to clear a passage. [664]

At length the discussion began. A full report of the speeches on both

sides has come down to us. There are few students of history who have

not taken up that report with eager curiosity and laid it down with

disappointment. The question between the Houses was argued on both

sides as a question of law. The objections which the Lords made, to the

resolution of the Commons were verbal and technical, and were met by

verbal and technical answers. Somers vindicated the use of the word

abdication by quotations from Grotius and Brissonius, Spigelius

and Bartolus. When he was challenged to show any authority for the

proposition that England could be without a sovereign, he produced the

Parliament roll of the year 1399, in which it was expressly set forth

that the kingly office was vacant during the interval between the

resignation of Richard the Second and the enthroning of Henry the

Fourth. The Lords replied by producing the Parliament roll of the first

year of Edward the Fourth, from which it appeared that the record of

1399 had been solemnly annulled. They therefore maintained that the

precedent on which Somers relied was no longer valid. Treby then came to

Somers's assistance, and brought forth the Parliament roll of the first

year of Henry the Seventh, which repealed the act of Edward the Fourth,

and consequently restored the validity of the record of 1399. After

a colloquy of several hours the disputants separated. [665] The Lords

assembled in their own house. It was well understood that they were

about to yield, and that the conference had been a mere form. The

friends of Mary had found that, by setting her up as her husband's

rival, they had deeply displeased her. Some of the Peers who had

formerly voted for a Regency had determined to absent themselves or to

support the resolution of the Lower House. Their opinion, they said,

was unchanged: but any government was better than no government, and the

country could not bear a prolongation of this agony of suspense. Even

Nottingham, who, in the Painted Chamber, had taken the lead against the

Commons, declared that, though his own conscience would not suffer him

to give way, he was glad that the consciences of other men were less

squeamish. Several Lords who had not yet voted in the Convention had

been induced to attend; Lord Lexington, who had just hurried over

from the Continent; the Earl of Lincoln, who was half mad; the Earl of

Carlisle, who limped in on crutches; and the Bishop of Durham, who had

been in hiding and had intended to fly beyond sea, but had received an

intimation that, if he would vote for the settling of the government,

his conduct in the Ecclesiastical Commission should not be remembered

against him. Danby, desirous to heal the schism which he had caused,

exhorted the House, in a speech distinguished by even more than his

usual ability, not to persevere in a contest which might be fatal to

the state. He was strenuously supported by Halifax. The spirit of the

opposite party was quelled. When the question was put whether King James

had abdicated the government only three lords said Not Content. On the

question whether the throne was vacant, a division was demanded.

The Contents were sixty-two; the Not Contents forty-seven. It was

immediately proposed and carried, without a division, that the Prince

and Princess of Orange should be declared King and Queen of England.

[666]

Nottingham then moved that the wording of the oaths of allegiance

and supremacy should be altered in such a way that they might be

conscientiously taken by persons who, like himself, disapproved of what

the Convention had done, and yet fully purposed to be loyal and dutiful

subjects of the new sovereigns. To this proposition no objection was

made. Indeed there can be little doubt that there was an understanding

on the subject between the Whig leaders and those Tory Lords whose votes

had turned the scale on the last division. The new oaths were sent

down to the Commons, together with the resolution that the Prince and

Princess should be declared King and Queen. [667]

It was now known to whom the crown would be given. On what conditions it

should be given, still remained to be decided. The Commons had appointed

a committee to consider what steps it might be advisable to take,

in order to secure law and liberty against the aggressions of future

sovereigns; and the committee had made a report. [668] This report

recommended, first, that those great principles of the constitution

which had been violated by the dethroned King should be solemnly

asserted, and, secondly, that many new laws should be enacted, for the

purpose of curbing the prerogative and purifying the administration of

justice. Most of the suggestions of the committee were excellent; but it

was utterly impossible that the Houses could, in a month, or even in

a year, deal properly with matters so numerous, so various, and so

important. It was proposed, among other things, that the militia

should be remodelled, that the power which the sovereign possessed of

proroguing and dissolving Parliaments should be restricted; that the

duration of Parliaments should be limited; that the royal pardon should

no longer be pleadable to a parliamentary impeachment; that toleration

should be granted to Protestant Dissenters; that the crime of high

treason should be more precisely defined; that trials for high treason

should be conducted in a manner more favourable to innocence; that the

judges should hold their places for life; that the mode of appointing

Sheriffs should be altered; that juries should be nominated in such a

way as might exclude partiality and corruption; that the practice of

filing criminal informations in the King's Bench should be abolished;

that the Court of Chancery should be reformed; that the fees of public

functionaries should be regulated; and that the law of Quo Warranto

should be amended. It was evident that cautious and deliberate

legislation on these subjects must be the work of more than one

laborious session; and it was equally evident that hasty and crude

legislation on subjects so grave could not but produce new grievances,

worse than those which it might remove. If the committee meant to give a

list of the reforms which ought to be accomplished before the throne was

filled, the list was absurdly long. If, on the other hand, the committee

meant to give a list of all the reforms which the legislature would do

well to make in proper season, the list was strangely imperfect. Indeed,

as soon as the report had been read, member after member rose to suggest

some addition. It was moved and carried that the selling of offices

should be prohibited, that the Habeas Corpus Act should be made more

efficient, and that the law of Mandamus should be revised. One gentleman

fell on the chimneymen, another on the excisemen; and the House resolved

that the malpractices of both chimneymen and excisemen should be

restrained. It is a most remarkable circumstance that, while the whole

political, military, judicial, and fiscal system of the kingdom was thus

passed in review, not a single representative of the people proposed the

repeal of the statute which subjected the press to a censorship. It was

not yet understood, even by the most enlightened men, that the liberty

of discussion is the chief safeguard of all other liberties. [669]

The House was greatly perplexed. Some orators vehemently said that too

much time had already been lost, and that the government ought to be

settled without the delay of a day. Society was unquiet: trade was

languishing: the English colony in Ireland was in imminent danger of

perishing, a foreign war was impending: the exiled King might, in a few

weeks, be at Dublin with a French army, and from Dublin he might soon

cross to Chester. Was it not insanity, at such a crisis, to leave the

throne unfilled, and, while the very existence of Parliaments was

in jeopardy, to waste time in debating whether Parliaments should be

prorogued by the sovereign or by themselves? On the other side it was

asked whether the Convention could think that it had fulfilled its

mission by merely pulling down one prince and putting up another. Surely

now or never was the time to secure public liberty by such fences as

might effectually prevent the encroachments of prerogative. [670] There

was doubtless great weight in what was urged on both sides. The

able chiefs of the Whig party, among whom Somers was fast rising to

ascendency, proposed a middle course. The House had, they said, two

objects in view, which ought to be kept distinct. One object was to

secure the old polity of the realm against illegal attacks: the other

was to improve that polity by legal reforms. The former object might be

attained by solemnly putting on record, in the resolution which called

the new sovereigns to the throne, the claim of the English nation to

its ancient franchises, so that the King might hold his crown, and the

people their privileges, by one and the same title deed. The latter

object would require a whole volume of elaborate statutes. The former

object might be attained in a day; the latter, scarcely in five years.

As to the former object, all parties were agreed: as to the latter,

there were innumerable varieties of opinion. No member of either House

would hesitate for a moment to vote that the King could not levy taxes

without the consent of Parliament: but it would be hardly possible to

frame any new law of procedure in cases of high treason which would not

give rise to long debate, and be condemned by some persons as unjust to

the prisoner, and by others as unjust to the crown. The business of an

extraordinary convention of the Estates of the Realm was not to do

the ordinary work of Parliaments, to regulate the fees of masters in

Chancery, and to provide against the exactions of gaugers, but to put

right the great machine of government. When this had been done, it would

be time to inquire what improvement our institutions needed: nor would

anything be risked by delay; for no sovereign who reigned merely by the

choice of the nation could long refuse his assent to any improvement

which the nation, speaking through its representatives, demanded.

On these grounds the Commons wisely determined to postpone all reforms

till the ancient constitution of the kingdom should have been restored

in all its parts, and forthwith to fill the throne without imposing on

William and Mary any other obligation than that of governing according

to the existing laws of England. In order that the questions which had

been in dispute between the Stuarts and the nation might never again be

stirred, it was determined that the instrument by which the Prince and

Princess of Orange were called to the throne, and by which the order

of succession was settled, should set forth, in the most distinct and

solemn manner, the fundamental principles of the constitution. This

instrument, known by the name of the Declaration of Right, was prepared

by a committee, of which Somers was chairman. The fact that the low born

young barrister was appointed to so honourable and important a post in a

Parliament filled with able and experienced men, only ten days after

he had spoken in the House of Commons for the first time, sufficiently

proves the superiority of his abilities. In a few hours the Declaration

was framed and approved by the Commons. The Lords assented to it with

some amendments of no great importance. [671]

The Declaration began by recapitulating the crimes and errors which

had made a revolution necessary. James had invaded the province of the

legislature; had treated modest petitioning as a crime; had oppressed

the Church by means of an illegal tribunal; had, without the consent

of Parliament, levied taxes and maintained a standing army in time of

peace; had violated the freedom of election, and perverted the course

of justice. Proceedings which could lawfully be questioned only in

Parliament had been made the subjects of prosecution in the King's

Bench. Partial and corrupt juries had been returned: excessive bail

had been required from prisoners, excessive fines had been imposed:

barbarous and unusual punishments had been inflicted: the estates of

accused persons had been granted away before conviction. He, by whose

authority these things had been done, had abdicated the government.

The Prince of Orange, whom God had made the glorious instrument of

delivering the nation from superstition and tyranny, had invited the

Estates of the Realm to meet and to take counsel together for the

securing of religion, of law, and of freedom. The Lords and Commons,

having deliberated, had resolved that they would first, after the

example of their ancestors, assert the ancient rights and liberties of

England. Therefore it was declared that the dispensing power, lately

assumed and exercised, had no legal existence; that, without grant of

Parliament, no money could be exacted by the sovereign from the subject;

that, without consent of Parliament, no standing army could be kept

up in time of peace. The right of subjects to petition, the right of

electors to choose representatives freely, the right of Parliaments

to freedom of debate, the right of the nation to a pure and merciful

administration of justice according to the spirit of its own mild laws,

were solemnly affirmed. All these things the Convention claimed, in the

name of the whole nation, as the undoubted inheritance of Englishmen.

Having thus vindicated the principles of the constitution, the Lords and

Commons, in the entire confidence that the deliverer would hold sacred

the laws and liberties which he had saved, resolved that William and

Mary, Prince and Princess of Orange, should be declared King and Queen

of England for their joint and separate lives, and that, during their

joint lives, the administration of the government should be in the

Prince alone. After them the crown was settled on the posterity of Mary,

then on Anne and her posterity, and then on the posterity of William.

By this time the wind had ceased to blow from the west. The ship

in which the Princess of Orange had embarked lay off Margate on the

eleventh of February, and, on the following morning, anchored at

Greenwich. [672] She was received with many signs of joy and affection:

but her demeanour shocked the Tories, and was not thought faultless even

by the Whigs. A young woman, placed, by a destiny as mournful and awful

as that which brooded over the fabled houses of Labdacus and Pelops, in

such a situation that she could not, without violating her duty to her

God, her husband, and her country, refuse to take her seat on the throne

from which her father had just been hurled, should have been sad, or at

least serious. Mary was not merely in high, but in extravagant, spirits.

She entered Whitehall, it was asserted, with a girlish delight at

being mistress of so fine a house, ran about the rooms, peeped into the

closets, and examined the quilt of the state bed, without seeming to

remember by whom those magnificent apartments had last been occupied.

Burnet, who had, till then, thought her an angel in human form, could

not, on this occasion, refrain from blaming her. He was the more

astonished because, when he took leave of her at the Hague, she had,

though fully convinced that she was in the path of duty, been deeply

dejected. To him, as to her spiritual guide, she afterwards explained

her conduct. William had written to inform her that some of those

who had tried to separate her interest from his still continued their

machinations: they gave it out that she thought herself wronged; and,

if she wore a gloomy countenance, the report would be confirmed. He

therefore intreated her to make her first appearance with an air of

cheerfulness. Her heart, she said, was far indeed from cheerful; but she

had done her best; and, as she was afraid of not sustaining well a

part which was uncongenial to her feelings, she had overacted it. Her

deportment was the subject of reams of scurrility in prose and verse: it

lowered her in the opinion of some whose esteem she valued; nor did the

world know, till she was beyond the reach of praise and censure,

that the conduct which had brought on her the reproach of levity

and insensibility was really a signal instance of that perfect

disinterestedness and selfdevotion of which man seems to be incapable,

but which is sometimes found in woman. [673]

On the morning of Wednesday, the thirteenth of February, the court of

Whitehall and all the neighbouring streets were filled with gazers. The

magnificent Banqueting House, the masterpiece of Inigo, embellished

by masterpieces of Rubens, had been prepared for a great ceremony. The

walls were lined by the yeomen of the guard. Near the northern door, on

the right hand, a large number of Peers had assembled. On the left were

the Commons with their Speaker, attended by the mace. The southern door

opened: and the Prince and Princess of Orange, side by side, entered,

and took their place under the canopy of state.

Both Houses approached bowing low. William and Mary advanced a few

steps. Halifax on the right, and Powle on the left, stood forth; and

Halifax spoke. The Convention, he said, had agreed to a resolution which

he prayed Their Highnesses to hear. They signified their assent; and the

clerk of the House of Lords read, in a loud voice, the Declaration of

Right. When he had concluded, Halifax, in the name of all the Estates of

the Realm, requested the Prince and Princess to accept the crown.

William, in his own name and in that of his wife, answered that the

crown was, in their estimation, the more valuable because it was

presented to them as a token of the confidence of the nation. "We

thankfully accept," he said, "what you have offered us." Then, for

himself, he assured them that the laws of England, which he had once

already vindicated, should be the rules of his conduct, that it should

be his study to promote the welfare of the kingdom, and that, as to

the means of doing so, he should constantly recur to the advice of the

Houses, and should be disposed to trust their judgment rather than his

own. [674] These words were received with a shout of joy which was heard

in the streets below, and was instantly answered by huzzas from many

thousands of voices. The Lords and Commons then reverently retired

from the Banqueting House and went in procession to the great gate

of Whitehall, where the heralds and pursuivants were waiting in their

gorgeous tabards. All the space as far as Charing Cross was one sea of

heads. The kettle drums struck up; the trumpets pealed: and Garter King

at arms, in a loud voice, proclaimed the Prince and Princess of Orange

King and Queen of England, charged all Englishmen to pay, from that

moment, faith and true allegiance to the new sovereigns, and besought

God, who had already wrought so signal a deliverance for our Church and

nation, to bless William and Mary with a long and happy reign. [675]

Thus was consummated the English Revolution. When we compare it with

those revolutions which have, during the last sixty years, overthrown

so many ancient governments, we cannot but be struck by its peculiar

character. Why that character was so peculiar is sufficiently obvious,

and yet seems not to have been always understood either by eulogists or

by censors.

The continental revolutions of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries

took place in countries where all trace of the limited monarchy of the

middle ages had long been effaced. The right of the prince to make laws

and to levy money had, during many generations, been undisputed. His

throne was guarded by a great regular army. His administration could

not, without extreme peril, be blamed even in the mildest terms.

His subjects held their personal liberty by no other tenure than his

pleasure. Not a single institution was left which had, within the memory

of the oldest man, afforded efficient protection to the subject against

the utmost excess of tyranny. Those great councils which had once curbed

the regal power had sunk into oblivion. Their composition and their

privileges were known only to antiquaries. We cannot wonder, therefore,

that, when men who had been thus ruled succeeded in wresting supreme

power from a government which they had long in secret hated, they should

have been impatient to demolish and unable to construct, that they

should have been fascinated by every specious novelty, that they should

have proscribed every title, ceremony, and phrase associated with the

old system, and that, turning away with disgust from their own national

precedents and traditions, they should have sought for principles of

government in the writings of theorists, or aped, with ignorant and

ungraceful affectation, the patriots of Athens and Rome. As little can

we wonder that the violent action of the revolutionary spirit should

have been followed by reaction equally violent, and that confusion

should speedily have engendered despotism sterner than that from which

it had sprung.

Had we been in the same situation; had Strafford succeeded in his

favourite scheme of Thorough; had he formed an army as numerous and

as well disciplined as that which, a few years later, was formed by

Cromwell; had a series of judicial decisions, similar to that which

was pronounced by the Exchequer Chamber in the case of shipmoney,

transferred to the crown the right of taxing the people; had the

Star Chamber and the High Commission continued to fine, mutilate, and

imprison every man who dared to raise his voice against the government;

had the press been as completely enslaved here as at Vienna or

at Naples; had our Kings gradually drawn to themselves the whole

legislative power; had six generations of Englishmen passed away without

a single session of parliament; and had we then at length risen up in

some moment of wild excitement against our masters, what an outbreak

would that have been! With what a crash, heard and felt to the farthest

ends of the world, would the whole vast fabric of society have fallen!

How many thousands of exiles, once the most prosperous and the most

refined members of this great community, would have begged their bread

in continental cities, or have sheltered their heads under huts of bark

in the uncleared forests of America! How often should we have seen

the pavement of London piled up in barricades, the houses dinted with

bullets, the gutters foaming with blood! How many times should we have

rushed wildly from extreme to extreme, sought refuge from anarchy in

despotism, and been again driven by despotism into anarchy! How many

years of blood and confusion would it have cost us to learn the very

rudiments of political science! How many childish theories would have

duped us! How many rude and ill poised constitutions should we have set

up, only to see them tumble down! Happy would it have been for us if

a sharp discipline of half a century had sufficed to educate us into a

capacity of enjoying true freedom.

These calamities our Revolution averted. It was a revolution strictly

defensive, and had prescription and legitimacy on its side. Here, and

here only, a limited monarchy of the thirteenth century had come down

unimpaired to the seventeenth century. Our parliamentary institutions

were in full vigour. The main principles of our government were

excellent. They were not, indeed, formally and exactly set forth in a

single written instrument; but they were to be found scattered over our

ancient and noble statutes; and, what was of far greater moment, they

had been engraven on the hearts of Englishmen during four hundred years.

That, without the consent of the representatives of the nation, no

legislative act could be passed, no tax imposed, no regular soldiery

kept up, that no man could be imprisoned, even for a day, by the

arbitrary will of the sovereign, that no tool of power could plead the

royal command as a justification for violating any right of the humblest

subject, were held, both by Whigs and Tories, to be fundamental laws of

the realm. A realm of which these were the fundamental laws stood in no

need of a new constitution.

But, though a new constitution was not needed, it was plain that changes

were required. The misgovernment of the Stuarts, and the troubles which

that misgovernment had produced, sufficiently proved that there was

somewhere a defect in our polity; and that defect it was the duty of the

Convention to discover and to supply.

Some questions of great moment were still open to dispute. Our

constitution had begun to exist in times when statesmen were not

much accustomed to frame exact definitions. Anomalies, therefore,

inconsistent with its principles and dangerous to its very existence,

had sprung up almost imperceptibly, and, not having, during many years,

caused any serious inconvenience, had gradually acquired the force of

prescription. The remedy for these evils was to assert the rights of

the people in such language as should terminate all controversy, and to

declare that no precedent could justify any violation of those rights.

When this had been done it would be impossible for our rulers to

misunderstand the law: but, unless something more were done, it was by

no means improbable that they might violate it. Unhappily the Church

had long taught the nation that hereditary monarchy, alone among our

institutions, was divine and inviolable; that the right of the House of

Commons to a share in the legislative power was a right merely human,

but that the right of the King to the obedience of his people was from

above; that the Great Charter was a statute which might be repealed by

those who had made it, but that the rule which called the princes of

the blood royal to the throne in order of succession was of celestial

origin, and that any Act of Parliament inconsistent with that rule was

a nullity. It is evident that, in a society in which such superstitions

prevail, constitutional freedom must ever be insecure. A power which is

regarded merely as the ordinance of man cannot be an efficient check on

a power which is regarded as the ordinance of God. It is vain to hope

that laws, however excellent, will permanently restrain a King who,

in his own opinion, and in that of a great part of his people, has an

authority infinitely higher in kind than the authority which belongs to

those laws. To deprive royalty of these mysterious attributes, and to

establish the principle that Kings reigned by a right in no respect

differing from the right by which freeholders chose knights of the

shire, or from the right by which judges granted writs of Habeas Corpus,

was absolutely necessary to the security of our liberties.

Thus the Convention had two great duties to perform. The first was to

clear the fundamental laws of the realm from ambiguity. The second was

to eradicate from the minds, both of the governors and of the governed,

the false and pernicious notion that the royal prerogative was something

more sublime and holy than those fundamental laws. The former object was

attained by the solemn recital and claim with which the Declaration

of Right commences; the latter by the resolution which pronounced the

throne vacant, and invited William and Mary to fill it.

The change seems small. Not a single flower of the crown was touched.

Not a single new right was given to the people. The whole English law,

substantive and adjective, was, in the judgment of all the greatest

lawyers, of Holt and Treby, of Maynard and Somers, exactly the same

after the Revolution as before it. Some controverted points had been

decided according to the sense of the best jurists; and there had been

a slight deviation from the ordinary course of succession. This was all;

and this was enough.

As our Revolution was a vindication of ancient rights, so it was

conducted with strict attention to ancient formalities. In almost every

word and act may be discerned a profound reverence for the past. The

Estates of the Realm deliberated in the old halls and according to the

old rules. Powle was conducted to his chair between his mover and his

seconder with the accustomed forms. The Serjeant with his mace brought

up the messengers of the Lords to the table of the Commons; and the

three obeisances were duly made. The conference was held with all the

antique ceremonial. On one side of the table, in the Painted Chamber,

the managers of the Lords sate covered and robed in ermine and gold. The

managers of the Commons stood bareheaded on the other side. The speeches

present an almost ludicrous contrast to the revolutionary oratory of

every other country. Both the English parties agreed in treating with

solemn respect the ancient constitutional traditions of the state. The

only question was, in what sense those traditions were to be understood.

The assertors of liberty said not a word about the natural equality of

men and the inalienable sovereignty of the people, about Harmodius or

Timoleon, Brutus the elder or Brutus the younger. When they were told

that, by the English law, the crown, at the moment of a demise, must

descend to the next heir, they answered that, by the English law, a

living man could have no heir. When they were told that there was no

precedent for declaring the throne vacant, they produced from among the

records in the Tower a roll of parchment, near three hundred years old,

on which, in quaint characters and barbarous Latin, it was recorded that

the Estates of the Realm had declared vacant the throne of a perfidious

and tyrannical Plantagenet. When at length the dispute had been

accommodated, the new sovereigns were proclaimed with the old pageantry.

All the fantastic pomp of heraldry was there, Clarencieux and Norroy,

Portcullis and Rouge Dragon, the trumpets, the banners, the grotesque

coats embroidered with lions and lilies. The title of King of France,

assumed by the conqueror of Cressy, was not omitted in the royal style.

To us, who have lived in the year 1848, it may seem almost an abuse of

terms to call a proceeding, conducted with so much deliberation, with so

much sobriety, and with such minute attention to prescriptive etiquette,

by the terrible name of Revolution.

And yet this revolution, of all revolutions the least violent, has been

of all revolutions the most beneficent. It finally decided the great

question whether the popular element which had, ever since the age of

Fitzwalter and De Montfort, been found in the English polity, should be

destroyed by the monarchical element, or should be suffered to develope

itself freely, and to become dominant. The strife between the two

principles had been long, fierce, and doubtful. It had lasted through

four reigns. It had produced seditions, impeachments, rebellions,

battles, sieges, proscriptions, judicial massacres. Sometimes liberty,

sometimes royalty, had seemed to be on the point of perishing. During

many years one half of the energy of England had been employed in

counteracting the other half. The executive power and the legislative

power had so effectually impeded each other that the state had been of

no account in Europe. The King at Arms, who proclaimed William and Mary

before Whitehall Gate, did in truth announce that this great struggle

was over; that there was entire union between the throne and the

Parliament; that England, long dependent and degraded, was again a power

of the first rank; that the ancient laws by which the prerogative was

bounded would henceforth be held as sacred as the prerogative itself,

and would be followed out to all their consequences; that the executive

administration would be conducted in conformity with the sense of the

representatives of the nation; and that no reform, which the two

Houses should, after mature deliberation, propose, would be obstinately

withstood by the sovereign. The Declaration of Right, though it made

nothing law which had not been law before, contained the germ of the law

which gave religious freedom to the Dissenter, of the law which secured

the independence of the judges, of the law which limited the duration of

Parliaments, of the law which placed the liberty of the press under the

protection of juries, of the law which prohibited the slave trade, of

the law which abolished the sacramental test, of the law which relieved

the Roman Catholics from civil disabilities, of the law which reformed

the representative system, of every good law which has been passed

during a hundred and sixty years, of every good law which may hereafter,

in the course of ages, be found necessary to promote the public weal,

and to satisfy the demands of public opinion.

The highest eulogy which can be pronounced on the revolution of 1688

is this, that it was our last revolution. Several generations have

now passed away since any wise and patriotic Englishman has meditated

resistance to the established government. In all honest and reflecting

minds there is a conviction, daily strengthened by experience, that the

means of effecting every improvement which the constitution requires may

be found within the constitution itself.

Now, if ever, we ought to be able to appreciate the whole importance of

the stand which was made by our forefathers against the House of Stuart.

All around us the world is convulsed by the agonies of great nations.

Governments which lately seemed likely to stand during ages have been on

a sudden shaken and overthrown. The proudest capitals of Western Europe

have streamed with civil blood. All evil passions, the thirst of gain

and the thirst of vengeance, the antipathy of class to class, the

antipathy of race to race, have broken loose from the control of divine

and human laws. Fear and anxiety have clouded the faces and depressed

the hearts of millions. Trade has been suspended, and industry

paralysed. The rich have become poor; and the poor have become poorer.

Doctrines hostile to all sciences, to all arts, to all industry, to all

domestic charities, doctrines which, if carried into effect, would, in

thirty years, undo all that thirty centuries have done for mankind,

and would make the fairest provinces of France and Germany as savage as

Congo or Patagonia, have been avowed from the tribune and defended by

the sword. Europe has been threatened with subjugation by barbarians,

compared with whom the barbarians who marched under Attila and Alboin

were enlightened and humane. The truest friends of the people have

with deep sorrow owned that interests more precious than any political

privileges were in jeopardy, and that it might be necessary to sacrifice

even liberty in order to save civilisation. Meanwhile in our island the

regular course of government has never been for a day interrupted. The

few bad men who longed for license and plunder have not had the courage

to confront for one moment the strength of a loyal nation, rallied in

firm array round a parental throne. And, if it be asked what has made us

to differ from others, the answer is that we never lost what others are

wildly and blindly seeking to regain. It is because we had a preserving

revolution in the seventeenth century that we have not had a destroying

revolution in the nineteenth. It is because we had freedom in the

midst of servitude that we have order in the midst of anarchy. For the

authority of law, for the security of property, for the peace of our

streets, for the happiness of our houses, our gratitude is due, under

Him who raises and pulls down nations at his pleasure, to the Long

Parliament, to the Convention, and to William of Orange.

*****

[Footnote 1: Avaux Neg., Aug. 6/16 1685; Despatch of Citters and his

colleagues, enclosing the treaty, Aug. Lewis to Barillon, Aug. 14/24.]

[Footnote 2: Instructions headed, "For my son the Prince of Wales,

1692," in the Stuart Papers.]

[Footnote 3: "The Habeas Corpus," said Johnson, the most bigoted of

Tories, to Boswell, "is the single advantage which our government has

over that of other countries;" and T. B. Macaulay is the most bigoted of

Whigs in his own country, but left his whiggism at home when he went to

India.]

[Footnote 4: See the Historical Records of Regiments, published under

the supervision of the Adjutant General.]

[Footnote 5: Barillon, Dec. 3/13 1685. He had studied the subject much.

"C'est un detail," he says, "dont j'ai connoissance." it appears from

the Treasury Warrant Book that the charge of the army for the year 1687

was first of January at 623,104l. 9s. 11d.]

[Footnote 6: Burnet, i. 447.]

[Footnote 7: Tillotson's Sermon, preached before the House of Commons,

Nov. 5. 1678.]

[Footnote 8: Locke, First Letter on Toleration.]

[Footnote 9: Council Book. The erasure is dated Oct. 21. 1685. Halifax

to Chesterfield; Barillon, Oct. 19/29.]

[Footnote 10: Barillon, Oct. 26/Nov. 5. 1685; Lewis to Barillon, Oct. 27

/ Nov. 6. Nov. 6/16.]

[Footnote 11: There is a remarkable account of the first appearance of

the symptoms of discontent among the Tories in a letter of Halifax to

Chesterfield, written in October, 1685. Burnet, i. 684.]

[Footnote 12: The contemporary tracts in various languages on the

subject of this persecution are innumerable. An eminently clear, terse,

and spirited summary will be found in Voltaire's Siecle de Louis XIV.]

[Footnote 13: "Misionarios embotados," says Ronquillo. "Apostoli

armati," says Innocent. There is, in the Mackintosh Collection, a

remarkable letter on this subject from Ronquillo, dated March 26./April

5. 1686 See Venier, Relatione di Francia, 1689, quoted by Professor

Ranke in his Romische Papste, book viii.]

[Footnote 14: "Mi dicono che tutti questi parlamentarii no hanno voluto

copia, il che assolutamente avra causate pessime impressioni."--Adda,

Nov. 9/13. 1685. See Evelyn's Diary, Nov. 3.]

[Footnote 15: Lords' Journals, Nov. 9. 1685. "Vengo assicurato," says

Adda, "che S. M. stessa abbia composto il discorso."--Despatch of Nov.

16/26 1685.]

[Footnote 16: Commons' Journals; Bramston's Memoirs; James von Leeuwen

to the States General, Nov. 10/20 1685. Leeuwen was secretary of the

Dutch embassy, and conducted the correspondence in the absence of

Citters. As to Clarges, see Burnet, i. 98.]

[Footnote 17: Barillon, Nov. 16/26. 1685.]

[Footnote 18: Dodd's Church History, Leeuwen, Nov. 17/27 1685; Barillon,

Dec. 24. 1685. Barillon says of Adda, "On l'avoit fait prevenir que

la surete et l'avantage des Catholiques consistoient dans une reunion

entiere de sa Majeste Britannique et de son parlement." Letters of

Innocent to James, dated July 27/Aug. 8 and Sept. 23 / Oct. 3. 1685;

Despatches of Adda, Nov. 9/19. and Nov. 1685. The very interesting

correspondence of Adda, copied from the Papal archives, is in the

British Museum; Additional MSS. No. 15395.]

[Footnote 19: The most remarkable despatch bears date the 9/19th of

November 1685, and will be found in the Appendix to Mr. Fox's History.]

[Footnote 20: Commons' Journals, Nov. 12. 1685; Leeuwen, Nov.; Barillon,

Nov. 16/26.; Sir John Bramston's Memoirs. The best report of the

debates of the Commons in November, 1685, is one of which the history is

somewhat curious. There are two manuscript copies of it in the British

Museum, Harl. 7187.; Lans. 253. In these copies the names of the

speakers are given at length. The author of the Life of James published

in 1702 transcribed this report, but gave only the initials, of the

speakers. The editors of Chandler's Debates and of the Parliamentary

History guessed from these initials at the names, and sometimes guessed

wrong. They ascribe to Wailer a very remarkable speech, which will

hereafter be mentioned, and which was really made by Windham, member for

Salisbury. It was with some concern that I found myself forced to give

up the belief that the last words uttered in public by Waller were so

honourable to him.]

[Footnote 21: Commons' Journals, Nov. 13. 1685; Bramston's Memoirs;

Reresby's Memoirs; Barillon, Nov. 16/26.; Leeuwen, Nov. 13/23.; Memoirs

of Sir Stephen Fox, 1717; The Case of the Church of England fairly

stated; Burnet, i. 666. and Speaker Onslow's note.]

[Footnote 22: Commons' Journals, Nov. 1685; Harl. MS. 7187.; Lans. MS.]

[Footnote 23: The conflict of testimony on this subject is most

extraordinary; and, after long consideration, I must own that the

balance seems to me to be exactly poised. In the Life of James (1702),

the motion is represented as a court motion. This account is confirmed

by a remarkable passage in the Stuart Papers, which was corrected by the

Pretender himself. (Clarke's Life of James the Second, ii. 55.) On the

other hand, Reresby, who was present, and Barillon, who ought to have

been well informed, represent the motion as an opposition motion. The

Harleian and Lansdowne manuscripts differ in the single word on which

the whole depends. Unfortunately Bramston was not at the House that day.

James Van Leeuwen mentions the motion and the division, but does not

add a word which can throw the smallest light on the state of parties.

I must own myself unable to draw with confidence any inference from the

names of the tellers, Sir Joseph Williamson and Sir Francis Russell for

the majority, and Lord Ancram and Sir Henry Goodricke for the minority.

I should have thought Lord Ancram likely to go with the court, and Sir

Henry Goodricke likely to go with the opposition.]

[Footnote 24: Commons' Journals, Nov. 16. 1685 Harl. MS. 7187.; Lans.

MS. 235.]

[Footnote 25: Commons' Journals, Nov. 17, 18. 1685.]

[Footnote 26: Commons' Journals, Nov. 18. 1685; Harl. MS. 7187.; Lans.

MS. 253.; Burnet, i. 667.]

[Footnote 27: Lonsdale's Memoirs. Burnet tells us (i. 667.) that a sharp

debate about elections took place in the House of Commons after Coke's

committal. It must therefore have been on the 19th of November; for Coke

was committed late on the 18th, and the Parliament was prorogued on the

20th. Burnet's narrative is confirmed by the Journals, from which it

appears that several elections were under discussion on the 19th.]

[Footnote 28: Burnet, i. 560.; Funeral Sermon of the Duke of Devonshire,

preached by Kennet, 1708; Travels of Cosmo III. in England.]

[Footnote 29: Bramston's Memoirs. Burnet is incorrect both as to the

time when the remark was made and as to the person who made it. In

Halifax's Letter to a Dissenter will be found a remarkable allusion to

this discussion.]

[Footnote 30: Wood, Ath. Ox.; Gooch's Funeral Sermon on Bishop Compton.]

[Footnote 31: Teonge's Diary.]

[Footnote 32: Barillon has given the best account of this debate. I

will extract his report of Mordaunt's speech. "Milord Mordaunt, quoique

jeune, parla avec eloquence et force. Il dit que la question n'etoit

pas reduite, comme la Chambre des Communes le pretendoit, a guerir des

jalousies et defiances, qui avoient lieu dans les choses incertaines;

mais que ce qui ce passoit ne l'etoit pas, qu'il y avoit une armee sur

pied qui subsistoit, et qui etoit remplie d'officiers Catholiques, qui

ne pouvoit etre conservee que pour le renversement des loix, et que la

subsistance de l'armee, quand il n'y a aucune guerre ni au dedans ni au

dehors, etoit l'etablissement du gouvernement arbitraire, pour lequel

les Anglois ont une aversion si bien fondee."]

[Footnote 33: He was very easily moved to tears. "He could not," says

the author of the Panegyric, "refrain from weeping on bold affronts."

And again "They talk of his hectoring and proud carriage; what could

be more humble than for a man in his great post to cry and sob?" In the

answer to the Panegyric it is said that "his having no command of his

tears spoiled him for a hypocrite."]

[Footnote 34: Lords' Journals, Nov. 19. 1685; Barillon, Nov. 23 / Dec.

3. Dutch Despatch, Nov. 20/30.; Luttrell's Diary, Nov. 19.; Burnet, i.

665. The closing speeds of Halifax is mentioned by the Nuncio in

his despatch of Nov. 16/26. Adda, about a month later, hears strong

testimony to Halifax's powers,

"Da questo uomo che ha gran credito nel parlamento, e grande eloquenza,

non si possono attendere che fiere contradizioni, e nel parlito Regio

non vi e un uomo da contrapporsi." Dec. 21/31.]

[Footnote 35: Lords' and Commons' Journals, Nov. 20. 1685.]

[Footnote 36: Lords' Journals, Nov. 11. 17, 18. 1685.]

[Footnote 37: Burnet i, 646.]

[Footnote 38: Bramston's Memoirs; Luttrell's Diary.]

[Footnote 39: The trial in the Collection of State Trials; Bramston's

Memoirs Burnet, 1. 647.; Lords' Journals, Dec. 20. 1689.]

[Footnote 40: Lords' Journals, Nov. 9, to. 16. 1685.]

[Footnote 41: Speech on the Corruption of the Judges in Lord Delamere's

works, 1694.]

[Footnote 42: Fu una funzione piena di gravita, di ordine, e di gran

speciosita. Adda, Jan. 15/25. 1686.]

[Footnote 43: The Trial is in the Collection of State Trials. Leeuwen,

Jan. 15/25. 19/29. 1686.]

[Footnote 44: Lady Russell to Dr. Fitzwilliam, Jan. 15. 1686.]

[Footnote 45: Lewis to Barillon, Feb. 10/20 1685/6.]

[Footnote 46: Evelyn's Diary, Oct. 2. 1685.]

[Footnote 47: Clarke's Life of James the Second, ii. 9., Orig. Mem.]

[Footnote 48: Leeuwen, Jan. 1/11 and 12/22 1686. Her letter, though very

long and very absurd, was thought worth sending to the States General as

a sign of the times.]

[Footnote 49: See his trial in the Collection of State Trials, and his

curious manifesto, printed in 1681.]

[Footnote 50: Memoires de Grammont; Pepys's Diary, Aug. 19. 1662.

Bonrepaux to Seignelay, Feb. 1/11 1686.]

[Footnote 51: Bonrepaux to Seignelay, Feb. 1/11. 1686.]

[Footnote 52: Memoires de Grammont; Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon;

Correspondence of Henry, Earl of Clarendon, passim, particularly the

letter dated Dec. 29. 1685; Sheridan MS. among the Stuart Papers; Ellis

Correspondence, Jan. 12. 1686.]

[Footnote 53: See his later correspondence, passim; St. Evremond,

passim; Madame de Sevigne's Letters in the beginning of 1689. See also

the instructions to Tallard after the peace of Ryswick, in the French

Archives.]

[Footnote 54: St. Simon, Memoires, 1697, 1719; St. Evremond; La

Fontaine; Bonrepaux to Seignelay, Jan. 28/Feb. 6, Feb. 8/18. 1686.]

[Footnote 55: Adda, Nov. 16/26, Dec. 7/17. and Dec. 21/31. 1685. In

these despatches Adda gives strong reasons for compromising matters by

abolishing the penal laws and leaving the test. He calls the quarrel

with the Parliament a "gran disgrazia." He repeatedly hints that the

King might, by a constitutional policy, have obtained much for the Roman

Catholics, and that the attempt to relieve them illegally is likely to

bring great calamities on them.]

[Footnote 56: Fra Paulo, tib. vii.; Pallavicino, lib. xviii. cap. 15.]

[Footnote 57: This was the practice of his daughter Anne; and

Marlborough said that she had learned it from her father--Vindication of

the Duchess of Marlborough.]

[Footnote 58: Down to the time of the trial of the Bishops, James went

on telling Adda that all the calamities of Charles the First were "per

la troppa indulgenza."--Despatch of 1688.]

[Footnote 59: Barillon, Nov. 16/26. 1685; Lewis to Barillon, Nov.

28/Dec. 6. 26. In a highly curious paper which was written in 1687,

almost certainly by Bonrepaux, and which is now in the French archives,

Sunderland is described thus-"La passion qu'il a pour le jeu, et les

pertes considerables quil y fait, incommodent fort ses affaires. Il

n'aime pas le vin; et il hait les femmes."]

[Footnote 60: It appears from the Council Book that he took his place as

president on the 4th of December, 1685.]

[Footnote 61: Bonrepaux was not so easily deceived as James. "En son

particulier il (Sunderland) n'en professe aucune (religion), et en parle

fort librement. Ces sortes de discours seroient en execration en

France. Ici ils sont ordinaires parmi un certain nombre de gens du

pais."--Bonrepaux to Seignelay, May 25/June 4 1687.]

[Footnote 62: Clarke's Life of James the Second, ii, 74. 77. Orig. Mem.;

Sheridan MS.; Barillon, March 19/29 1686.]

[Footnote 63: Reresby's Memoirs; Luttrell's Diary, Feb. 2. 1685/6

Barillon, Feb. Jan. 25/Feb 4.]

[Footnote 64: Dartmouth's note on Burnet, i. 621. In a contemporary

satire it is remarked that Godolphin

"Beats time with politic head, and all approves,

Pleased with the charge of the Queen's muff and gloves."]

[Footnote 65: Pepys, Oct. 4. 1664.]

[Footnote 66: Pepys, July 1. 1663.]

[Footnote 67: See Dorset's satirical lines on her.]

[Footnote 68: The chief materials for the history of this intrigue are

the despatches of Barillon and Bonrepaux at the beginning of the year

1686. See Barillon, Jan 25./Feb 4. Feb. 1/11. Feb. 8/18. Feb. 19/29.

and Bonrepaux under the first four Dates; Evelyn's Diary, Jan. 29.;

Reresby's Memoirs; Burnet, i. 682.; Sheridan MS.; Chaillot MS.; Adda's

Despatches, Jan 22/Feb 1. and Jan 29/Feb 8 1686. Adda writes like a

pious, but weak and ignorant man. He appears to have known nothing of

James's past life.]

[Footnote 69: The meditation hears date 1685/6. Bonrepaux, in his

despatch of the same day, says, "L'intrigue avoit ete conduite par

Milord Rochester et sa femme.... Leur projet etoit de faire gouverner

le Roy d'Angleterre par la nouvelle comtesse. Ils s'etoient assures

d'elle." While Bonrepaux was writing thus, Rochester was writing as

follows: "Oh God, teach me so to number my days that I may apply my

heart unto wisdom. Teach me to number the days that I have spent in

vanity and idleness, and teach me to number those that I have spent in

sin and wickedness. Oh God, teach me to number the days of my affliction

too, and to give thanks for all that is come to me from thy hand. Teach

me likewise to number the days of this world's greatness, of which I

have so great a share; and teach me to look upon them as vanity and

vexation of spirit."]

[Footnote 70: "Je vis Milord Rochester comme il sortoit de conseil fort

chagrin; et, sur la fin du souper, il lui en echappe quelque chose."

Bonrepaux, Feb. 18/28. 1656. See also Barillon, March 1/11, 4/14.]

[Footnote 71: Barillon March 22/April 1, April 12. [22] 1686.]

[Footnote 72: London Gazette, Feb. 11. 1685/6; Luttrell's Diary, Feb.

8; Leeuwen, Feb. 9/19.; Clarke's Life of James the Second, ii. 75. Orig.

Mem.]

[Footnote 73: Leeuwen, Feb 23/Mar 5. 1686.]

[Footnote 74: Barillon, April 26/May 6. May 3/13. 1686; Citters, May

7/17; Evelyn's Diary, May 5.; Luttrell's Diary of the same date; Privy

Council Book, May 2.]

[Footnote 75: Lady Russell to Dr. Fitzwilliam, Jan. 22. 1686; Barillon,

Feb 22/Mar 4 1686. "Ce prince temoigne," says Barillon, "une grande

aversion pour eux, et aurait bien voulu se dispenser de la collecte,

qui est ordonnee en leur faveur: mais il n'a pas cru que cela fut

possible."]

[Footnote 76: Barillon, Feb 22/ Mar 4. 1686.]

[Footnote 77: Account of the commissioners, dated March 15. 1688.]

[Footnote 78: "Le Roi d'Angleterre connait bien que les gens mal

intentionnes pour lui sont les plus prompts et les plus disposes a

donner considerablement.... Sa Majeste Britannique connoit bien qu'il

auroit a propos de ne point ordonner de collecte, et que les gens mal

intentionnes contre la religion Catholique et contre lui se servent de

cette occasion pour temoigner leur zele."--Barillon, April 19/29 1686.]

[Footnote 79: Barillon, Feb 15/25 Feb 22/Mar 4. April 19/29, Lewis to

Barillon Mar 5/15.]

[Footnote 80: Barillon, April 19/29. 1686; Lady Russell to Dr.

Fitzwilliam, April 14. "He sent away many," she says "with sad hearts."]

[Footnote 81: London Gazette of May 13. 1686.]

[Footnote 82: Reresby's Memoirs; Eachard, iii. 797.; Kennet, iii. 451.]

[Footnote 83: London Gazette, April 22. and 29. 1686; Barillon, April

19/29.; Evelyn's Diary, June 2.; Luttrell, June 8.; Dodd's Church

History.]

[Footnote 84: North's Life of Guildford, 288.]

[Footnote 85: Reresby's Memoirs.]

[Footnote 86: See the account of the case in the Collection of State

Trials; Citters, May 4/14., June 22/July 2 1686; Evelyn's Diary, June

27.; Luttrell's Diary, June 25. As to Street, see Clarendon's Diary,

Dec. 27. 1688.]

[Footnote 87: London Gazette, July 19. 1686.]

[Footnote 88: See the letters patent in Gutch's Collectanca Curiosa. The

date is the 3d of May, 1686. Sclater's Consensus Veterum; Gee's reply,

entitled Veteres Vindicati; Dr. Anthony Horneck's account of Mr.

Sclater's recantation of the errors of Popery on the 5th of May, 1689;

Dodd's Church History, part viii. book ii. art. 3.]

[Footnote 89: Gutch's Collectanea Curiosa; Dodd, viii. ii. 3.; Wood,

Ath. Ox.; Ellis Correspondence, Feb. 27. 1686; Commons' Journals, Oct.

26. 1689.]

[Footnote 90: Gutch's Collectanea Curiosa; Wood's Athenae Oxonienses;

Dialogue between a Churchman and a Dissenter, 1689.]

[Footnote 91: Adda, July 9/19 1686.]

[Footnote 92: Adda, July 30/Aug 9 1686.]

[Footnote 93: "Ce prince m'a dit que Dieu avoit permie que toutes

les loix qui ont ete faites pour etablir la religion Protestante, et

detruire la religion Catholique, servent presentement de fondement

ce qu'il veut faire pour l'etablissement de la vraie religion, et le

mettent en droit d'exercer un pouvoir encore plus grand que celui qu'ont

les role Catholiques sur les affaires ecclesiastiques dans les autres

pays."--Barillon, July 12/22. 1686. To Adda His Majesty said, a few days

later, "Che l'autorita concessale dal parlamento sopra l'Ecclesiastico

senza alcun limite con fine contrario fosse adesso per servire al

vantaggio de' medesimi Cattolici." July 23/Aug 2.]

[Footnote 94: The whole question is lucidly and unanswerably argued in

a little contemporary tract, entitled "The King's Power in Matters

Ecclesiastical fairly stated." See also a concise but forcible argument

by Archbishop Sancroft. Doyly's Life of Sancroft, i. 229.]

[Footnote 95: Letter from James to Clarendon, Feb. 18. 1685/6.]

[Footnote 96: The best account of these transactions is in the Life of

Sharp, by his son. Citters, June 29/July 9 1686.]

[Footnote 97: Barillon, July 21/Aug 1 1686. Citters, July 16/26; Privy

Council Book, July 17.; Ellis Correspondence, July 17.; Evelyn's Diary,

July 14.; Luttrell's Diary, Aug. 5, 6.]

[Footnote 98: The device was a rose and crown. Before the device was the

initial letter of the Sovereign's name; after it the letter R. Round the

seal was this inscription, "Sigillum commissariorum regiae majestatis ad

causas ecclesiasticas."]

[Footnote 99: Appendix to Clarendon's Diary; Citters, Oct. 8/18 1686;

Barillon, Oct. 11/21; Doyly's Life of Sancroft.]

[Footnote 100: Burnet, i. 676.]

[Footnote 101: Burnet, i. 675. ii. 629.; Sprat's Letters to Dorset.]

[Footnote 102: Burnet, i. 677.; Barillon, Sept. 6/16. 1686. The public

proceedings are in the Collection of State Trials.]

[Footnote 103: 27 Eliz. c. 2.; 2 Jac. I. c. 4; 3 Jac. I. c. 5.]

[Footnote 104: Clarke's Life of James the Second, ii. 79, 80. Orig.

Mem,]

[Footnote 105: De Augmentis i. vi. 4.]

[Footnote 106: Citters, May 14/24 1686.]

[Footnote 107: Citters. May 18/28 1686. Adda, May 19/29]

[Footnote 108: Ellis Correspondence, April 27. 1686; Barillon, April

19/29 Citters, April 20/30; Privy Council Book, March 26; Luttrell's

Diary; Adda Feb 26/Mar 8 March 26/April 5, April 2/12 April 23/May 3]

[Footnote 109: Burnet's Travels.]

[Footnote 110: Barillon, May 27/June 6 1686.]

[Footnote 111: Citters, May 23/June 1 1686.]

[Footnote 112: Ellis Correspondence, June 26. 1686; Citters, July 2/12

Luttrell's Diary, July 19.]

[Footnote 113: See the contemporary poems, entitled Hounslow Heath and

Caesar's Ghost; Evelyn's Diary, June 2. 1686. A ballad in the Pepysian

collection contains the following lines

"I liked the place beyond expressing,

I ne'er saw a camp so fine,

Not a maid in a plain dressing,

But might taste a glass of wine."]

[Footnote 114: Luttrell's Diary, June 18. 1686.]

[Footnote 115: See the memoirs of Johnson, prefixed to the folio edition

of his life, his Julian, and his answers to his opponents. See also

Hickes's Jovian.]

[Footnote 116: Life of Johnson, prefixed to his works; Secret History of

the happy Revolution, by Hugh Speke; State Trials; Citters, Nov 23/Dec

3 1686. Citters gives the best account of the trial. I have seen a

broadside which confirms his narrative.]

[Footnote 117: See the preface to Henry Wharton's Posthumous Sermons.]

[Footnote 118: This I can attest from my own researches. There is an

excellent collection in the British Museum. Birch tells us, in his Life

of Tillotson, that Archbishop Wake had not been able to form even a

perfect catalogue of all the tracts published in this controversy.]

[Footnote 119: Cardinal Howard spoke strongly to Burnet at Rome on this

subject Burnet, i. 662. There is a curious passage to the same effect in

a despatch of Barillon but I have mislaid the reference.

One of the Roman Catholic divines who engaged in this controversy, a

Jesuit named Andrew Patton, whom Mr. Oliver, in his biography of the

Order, pronounces to have been a man of distinguished ability, very

frankly owns his deficiencies. "A. P. having been eighteen years out

of his own country, pretends not yet to any perfection of the English

expression or orthography." His orthography is indeed deplorable. In one

of his letters wright is put for write, woed for would. He challenged

Tenison to dispute with him in Latin, that they might be on equal terms.

In a contemporary satire, entitled The Advice, is the following couplet

"Send Pulton to be lashed at Bushy's school,

That he in print no longer play the fool."

Another Roman Catholic, named William Clench, wrote a treatise on

the Pope's supremacy, and dedicated it to the Queen in Italian. The

following specimen of his style may suffice. "O del sagro marito

fortunata consorte! O dolce alleviamento d' affari alti! O grato ristoro

di pensieri noiosi, nel cui petto latteo, lucente specchio d'illibata

matronal pudicizia, nel cui seno odorato, come in porto damor, si ritira

il Giacomo! O beata regia coppia! O felice inserto tra l'invincibil

leoni e le candide aquile!"

Clench's English is of a piece with his Tuscan. For example, "Peter

signifies an inexpugnable rock, able to evacuate all the plots of hell's

divan, and naufragate all the lurid designs of empoisoned heretics."

Another Roman Catholic treatise, entitled "The Church of England

truly represented," begins by informing us that "the ignis fatuus

of reformation, which had grown to a comet by many acts of spoil and

rapine, had been ushered into England, purified of the filth which it

had contracted among the lakes of the Alps."]

[Footnote 120: Barillon, July 19/29 1686.]

[Footnote 121: Act Parl. Aug. 24. 1560; Dec. 15. 1567.]

[Footnote 122: Act Parl. May 8. 1685.]

[Footnote 123: Act Parl. Aug. 31 1681.]

[Footnote 124: Burnet, i. 584.]

[Footnote 125: Ibid. i. 652, 653.]

[Footnote 126: Ibid. i. 678.]

[Footnote 127: Burnet, i. 653.]

[Footnote 128: Fountainhall, Jan. 28. 1685/6.]

[Footnote 129: Ibid. Jan. 11 1685/6.]

[Footnote 130: Fountainhall, Jan. 31. and Feb. 1. 1685/6.; Burnet, i.

678,; Trials of David Mowbray and Alexander Keith, in the Collection of

State Trials; Bonrepaux, Feb. 11/21]

[Footnote 131: Lewis to Barillon, Feb. 18/28 1686.]

[Footnote 132: Fountainhall, Feb. 16.; Wodrow, book iii. chap. x. sec.

3. "We require," His Majesty graciously wrote, "that you spare no legal

trial by torture or otherwise."]

[Footnote 133: Bonrepaux, Feb. 18/28 1686.]

[Footnote 134: Fountainhall, March 11. 1686; Adda, March 1/11]

[Footnote 135: This letter is dated March 4. 1686.]

[Footnote 136: Barillon, April 19/29 1686; Burnet, i. 370.]

[Footnote 137: The words are in a letter of Johnstone of Waristoun.]

[Footnote 138: Some words of Barillon deserve to be transcribed. They

would alone suffice to decide a question which ignorance and party

spirit have done much to perplex. "Cette liberte accordee aux

nonconformistes a faite une grande difficulte, et a ete debattue

pendant plusieurs jours. Le Roy d'Angleterre avoit fort envie que les

Catholiques eussent seuls la liberte de l'exercice de leur religion."

April 19/29 1686.]

[Footnote 139: Barillon, April 19/29 1686 Citters, April 18/28 20/30 May

9/19]

[Footnote 140: Fountainhall, May 6. 1686.]

[Footnote 141: Ibid. June 15. 1686.]

[Footnote 142: Citters, May 11/21 1686. Citters informed the States that

he had his intelligence from a sure hand. I will transcribe part of his

narrative. It is an amusing specimen of the pyebald dialect in which the

Dutch diplomatists of that age corresponded.

"Des konigs missive, boven en behalven den Hoog Commissaris aensprake,

aen het parlement afgesonden, gelyck dat altoos gebruyckelyck is, waerby

Syne Majesteyt ny in genere versocht hieft de mitigatie der rigoureuse

ofte sanglante wetten von het Ryck jegens het Pausdom, in het Generale

Comitee des Articles (soo men het daer naemt) na ordre gestelt en

gelesen synde, in 't voteren, den Hertog van Hamilton onder anderen

klaer uyt seyde dat hy daertoe niet soude verstaen, dat by anders

genegen was den konig in allen voorval getrouw te dienen volgens het

dictamen syner conscientie: 't gene reden gaf aen de Lord Cancelier de

Grave Perts te seggen dat het woort conscientie niets en beduyde, en

alleen een individuum vagum was, waerop der Chevalier Locqnard dan

verder gingh; wil man niet verstaen de betyckenis van het woordt

conscientie, soo sal ik in fortioribus seggen dat wy meynen volgens de

fondamentale wetten van het ryck."

There is, in the Hind Let Loose, a curious passage to which I should

have given no credit, but for this despatch of Citters. "They cannot

endure so much as to hear of the name of conscience. One that was well

acquaint with the Council's humour in this point told a gentleman that

was going before them, `I beseech you, whatever you do, speak nothing of

conscience before the Lords, for they cannot abide to hear that word.'"]

[Footnote 143: Fountainhall, May 17. 1686.]

[Footnote 144: Wodrow, III. x. 3.]

[Footnote 145: Citters, May 28/June 7, June 1/11 June 4/14 1686

Fountainhall June 15; ---- Luttrell's Diary, June 2. 16]

[Footnote 146: Fountainhall, June 21 1686.]

[Footnote 147: Ibid. September 16. 1686.]

[Footnote 148: Fountainhall, Sept. 16; Wodrow, III. x. 3.]

[Footnote 149: The provisions of the Irish Act of Supremacy, 2 Eliz.

chap. I., are substantially the same with those of the English Act of

Supremacy, I Eliz. chap. I. hut the English act was soon found to be

defective and the defect was supplied by a more stringent act, 5

Eliz. chap. I No such supplementary law was made in Ireland. That

the construction mentioned in the text was put on the Irish Act of

Supremacy, we are told by Archbishop King: State of Ireland, chap. ii.

sec. 9. He calls this construction Jesuitical but I cannot see it in

that light.]

[Footnote 150: Political Anatomy of Ireland.]

[Footnote 151: Political Anatomy of Ireland, 1672; Irish Hudibras, 1689;

John Dunton's Account of Ireland, 1699.]

[Footnote 152: Clarendon to Rochester, May 4. 1686.]

[Footnote 153: Bishop Malony's Letter to Bishop Tyrrel, March 5. 1689.]

[Footnote 154: Statute 10 & 11 Charles I. chap. 16; King's State of the

Protestants of Ireland, chap. ii. sec. 8.]