Times have their changes; sorrows make us wise:
The sun itself must set as well as rise!
PERKIN WARBECK.
While matters were going forward in Ireland as we have endeavoured to
describe them in the preceding chapters, the tide, meanwhile, of
political occurrences in England arose to a tempestuous and
uncontrollable flood, that was wholly unexpected by Tyrconnel, and quite
unapprehended by his royal master. To England, therefore, we now must
trace our steps.
The various unpopular and arbitrary acts of King James the Second
paralyzed those loyal effusions that burst forth when he ascended the
royal throne of the Stuarts. The acquittal of the seven bishops who had
been arbitrarily imprisoned in the tower still further increased the
king's unpopularity. The confiscation too of property which followed,
and the attainder of many loyal Protestants, soon swelled high the
torrent that shortly was to burst against the abutments of his throne,
and destroy that prerogative of power which he had so unjustly and so
unconstitutionally assumed. Many now doubted the justness of the
appellation of "James the Just," which had been awarded him shortly
subsequent to his having been proclaimed king. Indeed his going publicly
to mass two days consequent to his succession to the crown, at the time
gave surprise and offence to the nation. Some events too occurred in
those superstitious days, that in the present times would be slightly
passed over, but which, albeit, were certainly considered as ill omens
in that age. At the solemnity of the coronation, the crown not being
properly fitted for the royal head, was often observed in a tottering
condition, and likely to fall off. Mr. Henry Sidney supported it once
with his hand, and pleasantly told the king,[30] that "this was not the
first time that his family had supported the crown." "In one of the
churches in London, the king's arms, stained on a glass window, suddenly
fell down and broke in pieces, while the rest remained standing, without
a possibility of discovery why that part should fall down sooner than
the rest. The canopy also, which had been borne over his head at the
coronation, did break."[31]
[30] Rapin's History of England, vol. II. pages 742, 743, and
Note.
[31] Ibid.--pages 742, 743, 771.
James II. espoused the Princess Maria d'Este, the sister of Francis Duke
of Modena, who was as beautiful as she was unfortunate. The queen had
been married some time without presenting her royal consort with a
child. When this event did take place, malice, falsehood, envy, and
intrigue, were not slow in pronouncing that the heir apparent thus born
was a "suppositious Prince of Wales." Then followed the ridiculous
episodes of the "sham conception," and "the warming-pan," which were all
a tissue of forgery and falsehood, still further intended to diminish
the king's decreasing popularity, and bring his person and throne into
disrepute. But upon the whole mass and evidence of history that is
presented, the only conclusion to be drawn was this, and only this--that
the Prince of Wales, so far from being suppositious, was royally and
legally born, the royal and lawful successor to his father's throne and
realms.
In consequence of all these combining unpopular results, a resolution
was taken by many of the disappointed, disaffected nobility and gentry,
of calling in the Prince of Orange of Nassau to ascend the throne of
Britain. And in pursuance of this determination several noblemen and
gentlemen were secretly deputed to go over to the prince, and invite him
to assume the sceptre of England. To these invitations the prince fully
acceded, and firmly determined to head the party. It need not be told
the reader that the Prince of Orange was the son-in-law of King James,
having espoused his daughter, the Princess Mary. The intriguing party
used all their endeavours to prevent the secret of their project from
being divulged. In this matter the Earl of Sunderland basely betrayed
his royal master. Meanwhile King James remained wholly incredulous to
the belief of the existence of these political machinations; and
although he was advised thereto by Mr. Skelton, his Majesty's Envoy at
the Hague, "that a great project was secretly carrying on against him,"
yet was this incredulous sovereign so sure of success, that he quite
neglected this intelligence, conceiving that it was only an artifice to
divert him from his designs; and he, therefore, to all such reports
closed an unwilling and unbelieving ear.
Numbers of the English nobility and gentry now addressed the Prince of
Orange to deliver them from that oppression under which they bent. And
in reply to a long _memoirè_ presented to the prince, he published two
manifestoes, declaratory of, and justifying his descent upon England,
which were accompanied by his embarkation from the states of Holland,
and shortly followed by his arrival in England, where by numbers his
Highness was warmly received. Many personages of high rank declared to
him their support; and furthermore, several regiments of the army of
King James joined the standard of the Prince of Orange.
At length the landing of the prince, and the cordial reception with
which he met withal, awoke the royal and too incredulous James from his
trance, and he now finally resolved upon the measure of flying from his
discontented subjects, whom he considered had betrayed him by thus
calling in a foreigner to assume the sovereignty; and he forth-with
determined to sail with what expedition he might from the shores of
England, and put himself at once under the protection of the King of
France.
However, previous to the flight of the unhappy James from his throne and
realm of fair England, he resolved in the first instance to provide for
the escape of his queen consort, and his son, the infant Prince of
Wales. King James was so surrounded by spies and informers, that the
very greatest circumspection was absolutely necessary to shun the
hundred eyes of Argus which environed him; for, as but too often is the
unhappy case with kings, that almost literally he knew not whom to
trust. While flatterers and sycophants surround and blockade a throne,
it must not be expected that truth, sincerity, or friendship, can there
be found;--no! they are quite unknown within the stately precincts of a
court! But still there was one found, and one worthy of the royal
trust--the Count de Lauzun, a noble, brave, and generous Frenchman; and
to this nobleman the king intrusted his queen and infant son, to assist
them in conducting them in safety to France, aloof from all the enemies
of the royal James.
The plan of proceeding, and all the consecutive details, were
accordingly secretly arranged, and the greatest and most scrupulous care
and caution were duly taken to keep these determinations a profound
secret, lest the flight of the queen and infant prince being known or
suspected, the measure might be wholly frustrated by the intervention of
the emissaries of the Prince of Orange.
The solemn hour of midnight was selected as the safest time for the
flight of the royal fugitives. The young prince, to escape suspicion,
was placed in bed at his accustomed hour; and shortly after the king and
queen, having duly dismissed all their attendants, retired seemingly to
repose, but not to rest!
When the eyes of all in the palace were closed, save the waking,
watching, unwearied eye-lids of the royal sufferers, the king and queen
arose from their couch, and cautiously opened the private door leading
to the royal closet, where in readiness awaited the noble and faithful
Count de Lauzun. The queen raised the infant prince from his cradle,
wrapped him in a swathe of flannel to keep the infant warm; indeed no
unnecessary precaution, for cold and bitter was the winter weather in
which the royal child was thus in silent secrecy of night taken away
from the princely hall of his royal progenitors.
King James affectionately embraced them both, as sad and sorrowful he
bade them a mournful farewell; and wept most bitterly at this parting
scene, in which affliction his royal consort fully participated. His
Majesty then intrusted them both to the loyal charge of the noble and
faithful count, who taking the royal infant under one arm, while he
assisted the queen with the other, they set forth from the palace to
pursue their perilous and melancholy journey.
Stormy and tempestuous was the night, the wind blew with violence, and
rain impetuously descended in torrents. They now approached the banks of
the Thames, in order to procure a boat to cross over to Lambeth. At this
point of time Count de Lauzun had previously engaged a boat to be ready
in attendance, thence to escape down the river to Gravesend, to come up
with the vessel which he had hired, and there awaited to convey them to
France. But unluckily it happened that so pitchy dark and stormy was the
night, the boat, when hailed, was not to be found. In total despair for
some moments he remained; but again, more loud and stoutly once more he
hailed the boat: the signal was heard, and obeyed. They descended down
the Whitehall stairs and embarked; and finding a great swell in the
river the count resolved not to proceed by water to Gravesend, but to
land at Lambeth, and thence proceed by land. They arrived in safety at
the Lambeth stairs, and landed, when the count surrendered to the queen
the royal charge to hold, while he went forth to obtain a coach from the
nearest adjoining inn.
Meanwhile the hapless queen--queen of the greatest realm in Europe,
arrayed in disguised habiliments, stood trembling under the shelter of
the ruined walls of a church, shivering in the blast, and dripping with
rain, wistfully listening to every sound, and piteously raising her eyes
to heaven. Oh, what a fearful lesson was here! a few days ago she might
have proclaimed to all the world--"This is my throne, let kings come bow
to it!" And this awful night she might envy the poorest cottier in her
dominions. However, after long suspense, suffering, and delay, the
count returned, having procured a carriage; and he lost no time in
placing the trembling queen and shivering infant in the vehicle.
Without any accident whatever the royal fugitives reached Gravesend in
perfect safety. Here, trembling with fear, and nearly overpowered by
sorrow, the queen alighted on the quay, where the boat, (which was an
open one,) belonging to the brig destined for Calais, awaited their
coming. The count, without a moment's delay, placed the queen and prince
in the boat, and flinging around them the boatman's cloak, he sat down
by them, and bade him to row on. He told the boatman that the persons he
bore away were his wife and child; and thus no suspicions were awakened
in the mind of the boatman of the great personages he thus bore off amid
the shades of night.
"Sail on, sail on, thou fearless bark,
Wherever blows the welcome wind;
It cannot lead to scenes more dark,
More sad, than those we leave behind!"
By the morning tide they had reached, without molestation, a small brig
destined for France. To the captain the count also pretended that the
queen and prince were his own wife and child; he bargained for the
voyage, and the contract was agreed to. But the vessel was no sooner
under weigh, when how great their surprise, and how proportionate must
have been their apprehensions and alarm, while they beheld the whole of
the English fleet stationed at the mouth of the Thames, to examine all
vessels, and prevent their escape. But fortunately the vessel was so
small that, being unsuspected, she was permitted with impunity to pass
the admiral of the fleet, in no wise suspecting that her hull contained
such very distinguished personages on board, so no examination took
place. The vessel sailed on unmolested; and that very night the Count de
Lauzun had the happiness of safely landing the royal sufferers on the
pier of Calais. From thence they proceeded to Versailles, where her
Majesty and infant prince were received by Louis the Fourteenth with
great marks of affection and of the highest respect, which afforded some
consolation to the queen under her melancholy reverse of fortune.
Meanwhile King James suffered great and intense anxiety concerning the
fate of his unhappy queen and infant prince.
His Majesty now fully determined to follow the queen, and waited but one
day to execute his design.[32] The following night, in a plain suit, and
a bob-wig, he took water at Whitehall,[33] accompanied only by Sir
Edward Hales, Mr. Sheldon, and Abbadie, a Frenchman, and a page of the
back-stairs, without acquainting any other person with his intentions.
All writs sent out for the electing of parliament he ordered to be
burnt; and when he took water he threw the great seal of England into
the Thames, (which was some time afterwards taken up by a fisherman in
his net,) that nothing might be legally done in his absence. "If,"
continued Rapin, "this may not be called a real desertion of his
kingdom, it will be difficult to give a name to such proceedings!"[34]
[32] Rapin's History of England, vol. II. p. 781.
[33] Ibid. p. 782.
[34] Ibid. p. 783.
However, the king did not succeed in this attempt to escape, inasmuch as
he was arrested at Feversham, and abused and insulted by the rabble; he
lost a number of valuables, and gave up to the mob about between three
and four hundred pounds in specie. Here he was protected by the Dutch
guards of the Prince of Orange, and chose to retire to Rochester; where,
in the space of about ten days from the time he had attempted his first
escape, he now resolved upon trying a second. About three o'clock in a
dark winter's morning he privately withdrew, taking with him only the
Duke of Berwick, (his natural son,) Mr. Sheldon, and Abbadie, the page;
and went on horseback to a place near the river, where he embarked in a
small frigate, which landed him safely at Ambleteusè, in France; from
whence he repaired to the court of Louis the Fourteenth, where with much
satisfaction he rejoined his queen and infant prince. "This abdication,"
emphatically observes Rapin, "paved the prince's way to the throne!"[35]
[35] Rapin's History of England, vol. II. p. 783.
Upon the departure of King James from the shores of England, an
_interregnum_ occurred of such a nature as was hitherto unknown in
England. It was not caused by the death, but by the flight of the
sovereign. Hence this incongruity took place, that the nation was
without a king, nay, even without the representative of one, that would
take the charge of the government! Yet still, strange to say, there was
a king!--albeit a fugitive; who, although he had fled, and abandoned his
throne, yet still pretended to retain his rights!
How short and limited is the narrow space between popular adoration and
popular disgrace! To-day a king, an emperor, a demi-god--To-morrow a
fugitive, an outcast from his realm, unregarded and forgotten! for ever
blotted from the page of kings, his fate or banishment or the scaffold!
Who can then rely upon the popular breath, wayward, fickle, and
uncertain as the wave or wind? Oh! then, let the true patriot, _if_ such
is to be found upon earth, think on this; and, divested and purified
from the dross of poor mortality, reflect upon all this; aye, and let
him then, firmly armed in integrity, despise equally alike public
censure or public praise!
From this melancholy digression upon fallen greatness on English ground,
we shall reconduct the reader once more to the shores of Erin, and again
return to the family of Tyrconnel in the succeeding chapter.