COLLECTION OF BRITISH AUTHORS. VOL. CCCXL. THE HIST OB Y OF ENGLAND BY THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY. VOL. VII. THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND FROM THE ACCESSION OF JAMES THE SECOND. THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY. COPYRIGHT EDITION. VOL. VII. LEIPZIG BERNHARD TATTCHNITZ 1855 . YI CONTENTS OF VOLUME YII. Pago Luxemburg ..88 Battle of Steinkirk.91 Conspiracy of Grandval.97 Return of William to England.1°1 Naval maladministration. Earthquake at Port Royal.196 Distress in England. Increase of crime. 197 Meeting of Parliament.HI State of parties. The King’s speech. 312 Question of privilege raised by the Lords. Debates on the state of the nation.H** Bill for the Regulation of Trials in cases of Treason .... 121 Case of Lord Mohun.I 22 Debates on the India trade.125 Supply.129 Ways and Means: Land Tax.127 Origin of the national debt.192 Parliamentary Reform. The Place Bill.l* r, ° The Triennial Bill. 155 The first parliamentary discussions on the liberty of the press . • 160 State of Ireland.1H The King refuses to pass the Triennial Bill.180 Ministerial arrangements.184 The King goes to Holland.1®? A session of Parliament in Scotland.*&• CHAPTER XX. State of the Court of Saint Germains.192 Feeling of the Jacobites. Compounders ..196 Noncompounders.197 Change of ministry at Saint Germains: Middleton .... 201 New Declaration put forth by James . 294 Effect of the new Declaration 206 French preparations for the campaign,.209 Institution of the Order of Saint Lewis.*&• Middleton’s account of Versailles.210 William’s preparations for the campaign.212 Lewis takes the field.213 Lewis returns to Versailles. Manoeuvres of Luxemburg.215 Battle of Landen.216 Miscarriage of the Smyrna fleet.225 Excitement in London.228 CONTENTS OF VOLUME VII. VII Page Jacobite libels: William Anderton.229 Writings and artifices of the Jacobites 233 Conduct of Caermarthen.236 New charter granted to the East India Company .... 238 Return of William to England: military successes of France . . 240 Distress of France.* 241 A ministry necessary to parliamentary government .... 246 The first ministry gradually formed.249 Sunderland.250 Sunderland advises the King to give the preference to the Whigs . 255 Reasons for preferring the Whigs ..256 Chiefs of the Whig party.258 Russell. ib- Somers.259 Montague.263 Wharton ..267 Chiefs of the Tory party.272 Harley.273 Foley 277 Howe.278 Meeting of Parliament.^ • • 279 Debates about the naval miscarriages.280 Russell First Lord of the Admiralty.282 Retirement of Nottingham .. ib. Shrewsbury refuses office ..283 Debates about the trade with India.234 Bill for the Regulation of Trials in cases of Treason .... 288 Triennial Bill.289 Place Bill.291 Bill for the Naturalisation of Foreign Protestants .... 295 Supply ............. 298 Ways and Means: lottery loan.299 The Bank of England.301 Prorogation of Parliament: ministerial arrangements . . . 315 Shrewsbury Secretary of State. ib. New titles bestowed.318 French plan of war. 319 English plan of war. ib. Expedition against Brest.321 Naval operations in the Mediterranean.325 War by land.327 Complaints of Trenchard’s administration.328 The Lancashire prosecutions.330 Meeting of Parliament.335 Death ofTillotson. ib. Tenison Archbishop of Canterbury.337 VIII CONTENTS OF VOLUME VII. Page Debates on the Lancashire prosecutions.337 Place Bill.340 Bill for the Regulation of Trials in cases of Treason . . . . ib. The Triennial Bill passed. ib . Death of Mary.341 Funeral of Mary . . . . i.345 Greenwich Hospital founded.347 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. VOL. VII. CHAPTER XVIII. (continued.) The Lowlands of Scotland were, during the year which followed the parliamentary session of 1690 , as quiet as they had ever been within the memory of man: but the state of the Highlands caused much anxiety to the government. The civil war in that wild region, after it had ceased to flame, had continued during some time to smoulder. At length, early in the year 1691 , the rebel chiefs informed the Court of Saint Germains that, pressed as they were on every side, they could hold out no longer without succour from France. James had sent them a small quantity of meal, brandy and tobacco, and had frankly told them that he could do nothing more. Money was so scarce among them that six hundred pounds sterling would have been a most acceptable addition to their funds: but even such a sum he was unable to spare. lie could scarcely, in such circumstances, expect them to defend his cause against a government which had a regular army and a large revenue. He therefore informed them that he should not take it ill of them if they made their peace with the new dynasty, provided always that they were prepared to rise in insurrection as soon as he should call on them to do so.* * Life of James, ii. 468, 469, Macaulay^ History, VII, 1 CHAP. XVIII. 1692 . State of the Highlands. 2 HISTORY OP ENGLAKD. CHAP. XVIII. J(iU2. Breadal- bane employed tc negotiate with the rebel clans. Meanwhile it had been determined at Kensington, in spite of the opposition of the Master of Stair, to try the plan which Tarbet had recommended two years before, and which, if it had been tried when he recommended it, would probably have prevented much bloodshed and confusion. It was resolved that twelve or fifteen thousand pounds should be laid out in quieting the Highlands. This was a mass of treasure which to an inhabitant of Appin or Lochaber seemed almost fabulous, and which indeed bore a greater proportion to the income of Keppoch or Glengarry than fifteen hundred thousand pounds bore to the income of Lord Bedford or Lord Devonshire. The sum was ample: but the King was not fortunate in the choice of an agent. * John Earl of Breadalbane, the head of a younger branch of the great House of Campbell, ranked high among the petty princes of the mountains. He could bring seventeen hundred claymores into the field; and, ten years before the Bevolution, he had actually marched into the Lowlands with this great force for the purpose of supporting the prelatical tyranny.** In those days he had affected zeal for monarchy and episcopacy: but in truth he cared for no government and no religion. He seems to have united two different sets of vices, the growth of two different regions, and of two different stages in the progress of society. In his castle among the hills he had learned the barbarian pride and ferocity of a Highland chief. In the Council Chamber at Edinburgh he had contracted the deep taint of treachery and corruption. After the Revolution he had, like too many of his fellow nobles, joined and betrayed every party in turn, had sworn fealty to William and Mary, and had plotted against them. To trace all the turns and doublings of his course, during the year 1G89 and the earlier part of 1690, would * Burnet, ii. 88.; Master of Stair to Breadalbane, Dec. 2. 1691. ** Burnet, i. 418. WILLIAM AND MALT. 3 be wearisome.* That course became somewhat less tortuous chap. when the battle of the Boyne had cowed the spirit of the Jaco- x | x ‘" ~ bites. It now seemed probable that the Earl would be a loyal subject of their Majesties, till some great disaster should befall them. Nobody who knew him could trust him: but few Scottish statesmen could then be trusted; and yet Scottish statesmen must be employed. His positioh and connections marked him out as a man who might, if he would, do much towards the work of quieting the Highlands; and his interest seemed to be a guarantee for his zeal. He had, as he declared with every appearance of truth, strong personal reasons for wishing to see tranquillity restored. His domains ivere so situated that, while the civil war lasted, his vassals could not tend their herds or sow their oats in peace. His lands were daily ravaged: his cattle were daily driven away: one of his houses had been burned down. It was probable, therefore, that he would do his best to put an end to hostilities.** He was accordingly commissioned to treat with the Jacobite chiefs, and was entrusted with the money which was to be distributed among them. He invited them to a conference at his residence in Glenorchy. They came: but the treaty went on very sloivly. Every head of a tribe asked for a larger share of the English gold than was to be obtained. Breadalbane was suspected of intending to cheat both the clans and the King. The dispute between the rebels and the government was complicated with another dispute still more embarrassing. The Camerons and Macdonalds w'ere really at war, not with William, but with Mac Callum More; and no arrangement to which Mac Callum More W'as not a party could really produce tranquillity. * Crawford to Melville, July 28. 1689; The Master of Stair to Melville, Aug. 16. 16S9; Cardross to Melville, Sept. 9. 1680-; Balcarras’s Memoirs; Amiandale’s Confession, Aug. 14. 1690. ** Breadalbane to Melville, Sept. 17 v 1690. i* iswwjflsass CHAP. XVI If. Wl)2. Glencoe. vfegjgasgs tssmm 4 HISTOEY OP ENGLAND. A grave question therefore arose, whether the money en- - trusted to Breadalhane should be paid directly to the discontented chiefs, or should be employed to satisfy the claims which Argyle had upon them. The shrewdness of Lochiel and the arrogant pretensions of Glengarry contributed to protract the discussions. But no Celtic potentate was so impracticable as Macdonald of Glencoe, known among the mountains by the hereditary appellation of Mac Ian.* Mac Ian dwelt in the mouth of a ravine situated not far from the southern shore of Lochleven, an arm of the sea which deeply indents the western coast of Scotland, and separates Argyleshire from Invernessshire. Near his house were two or three small hamlets inhabited by his tribe. The whole population which he governed tvas not supposed to exceed two hundred souls. In the neighbourhood of the little cluster of villages was some copsew r ood and some pasture land: but a little further up the defile no sign of population or of fruitfulness was to be seen. In the Gaelic tongue Glencoe signifies the Glen of "Weeping; and in truth that pass is the most dreary and melancholy of all the Scottish passes, the very Valley of the Shadow of Death. Mists and storms brood over it through the greater part of the finest summer; and even on those rare days when the sun is bright, and when there is no cloud in the sky, the impression made by the landscape is sad and awful. The path lies along a stream which issues from the most sullen and gloomy of mountain pools. Huge precipices of naked stone frown on both sides. Even in July the streaks of snow may often be discerned in the rifts near the summits. All down the sides of the crags heaps of ruin mark the headlong paths of the torrents. Mile after mile the traveller looks in vain for the smoke of one hut, for one human form wrapped in * The Master of Stair to Hamilton, Ang. 41- 1691; Hill to Melville, June 26. 1691; The Master of Stair to Breadalhane, Aug. 24. 1691. WILIIAM AND WA11Y. 5 a plaid, and listens in vain for the bark of a shepherd’s dog or the bleat of a lamb. Mile after mile the only sound that in- ■ dicates life is the faint cry of a bird of prey from some storm- beaten pinnacle of rock. The progress of civilisation, which has turned so many wastes into fields yellow with harvests or gay with apple blossoms, has only made Glencoe more desolate. All the science and industry of a peaceful age can extract nothing valuable from that wilderness: but, in an age of violence and rapine, the -wilderness itself was valued on account of the shelter which it afforded to the plunderer and his plunder. Nothing could be more natural than that the clan to which this rugged desert belonged should have been noted for predatory habits. For, among the Highlanders generally, to rob W'as-thought at least as honourable an employment as to cultivate the soil; and, of all the Highlanders, the Macdonalds of Glencoe had the least productive soil, and the most convenient and secure den of robbers. Successive governments had tried to punish this wild race: but no large force had ever- been employed for that purpose; and a small force was easily resisted or eluded by men familiar with every recess and every outlet of the natural fortress in which they had been born and bred. The people of Glencoe would probably have been less troublesome neighbours if they had lived among their own kindred. But they were an outpost of the Clan Donald, separated from every other branch of their own family, and almost surrounded by the domains of the hostile race of Diarmid.* * “The real truth is, they were a branch of the Macdonalds (who were a brave courageous people always), seated among the Campbells, who (I mean the Glencoe men) are all Papists, if they have any religion, were always counted a people much given to rapine and plunder, or sorners as we call it, and much of a piece with your highwaymen in England. Several governments desired to bring them to justice: but their country was inaccessible to small parties.” See An impartial Account of some of the Transactions in Scotland concerning the Earl of Breadalbane, Viscount and Master of Stair, Glenco Men, &c., London, 1695. CHAP. XVIII. 6 HISTOKT OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XVIII. 1052 . They were impelled by hereditary enmity, as well as by want, to live at the expense of the tribe of Campbell. Breadalhane’s property had suffered greatly from their depredations; and he was not of a temper to forgive such injuries. When, therefore, the Chief of Glencoe made his appearance at the congress in Glenorchy, he was ungraciously received. The Earl, who ordinarily bore himself with the solemn dignity of a Castilian grandee, forgot, in his resentment, his wonted gravity, forgot his public character, forgot the laws of hospitality, and, with angry reproaches and menaces, demanded reparation for the herds which had been driven from his lands by Mac Ian’s followers. Mac Ian was seriously apprehensive of some personal outrage, and was glad to get safe back to his own glen.* Iiis pride had been wounded; and the promptings of interest concurred with those of pride. As the head of a people who lived by pillage, he had strong reasons for wishing that the country might continue to be in a perturbed state. ITe had little chance of receiving one' guinea of the money which was to be distributed among the malecontents. For his share of that money would scarcely meet Breadalbane’s demands for compensation; and there could be little doubt that, whoever might be unpaid, Breadalbane would take care to pay himself. Mac Ian therefore did his best to dissuade his allies from accepting terms from which he could himself expect no benefit; and his influence was not small. His own vassals, indeed, were few in number: but he came of the best blood of the Highlands: he had kept up a close connection with his more powerful kinsmen; nor did they like him the less because he was a robber; for he never robbed them; and that robbery, merely as robbery, was a wicked and disgraceful act, had never entered into the mind of any Celtic chief. Mac Ian was therefore held in high esteem by the confederates. His age was venerable: his aspect was * Report of the Commissioners, signed at Ilolyrood, June 20. 1695. WILLIAM AND HUEY. 7 majestic; and he possessed in large measure those intellectual qualities which, in rude societies, give men an ascendency over their fellows. Breadalbane found himself, at every step of the negotiation, thwarted by the arts of his old enemy, and abhorred the name of Glencoe more and more every day.* But the government did not trust solely to Breadalbane’s diplomatic skill. The authorities at Edinburgh put forth a proclamation exhorting the clans to submit to King William and Queen Mary, and offering pardon to every rebel who, on or.before the thirty-first of December 1691, should swear to live peaceably under the government of their Majesties. It w'as announced that those who should hold out after that day w’ould be treated as enemies and traitors.** Warlike preparations were made, which showed that the threat was meant in earnest. The Highlanders were alarmed, and, though the pecuniary terms had not been satisfactorily settled, thought it prudent to give the pledge which was demanded of them. No chief, indeed, was willing to set the example of submission. Glengarry blustered, and pretended to fortify his house.*** “I will not,” saidLochiel, “break the ice. That is a point of honour with me. But my tacksmen and people may use their freedom.”! His tacksmen and people understood him, and repaired by hundreds to the Sheriff to take the oaths. The Macdonalds of Sleat, Clanronald, ICeppoch, and even Glengarry, imitated the Camerons; and the chiefs, after trying to outstay each other as long as they durst, imitated their vassals. The thirty-first of December arrived; and still the Mac- * Gallienus Redivivus; Burnet, ii. 88.; Report of the Commission of 1695. ** Report of the Glencoe Commission, 1695. «** Hill to Melville, May 15. 1691. *}• Hill to Melville, June 3. 1691. 8 HISTOEY OE ENGLAND. CHAP. XVIII. 1CS2. donalds of Glencoe had not come in. The punctilious pride of ■ Mac Ian was doubtless gratified by the thought that he had continued to defy the government after the boastful Glengarry, the ferocious Keppoch, the magnanimous Lochiel had yielded: but he bought his gratification dear. At length, on the thirty-first of December, he repaired to Fort AVilliam, accompanied by his principal vassals, and offered to take the oaths. To his dismay he found that there was in the fort no person competent to administer them. Colonel Hill, the Governor, was not a magistrate; nor was there any magistrate nearer than Inverary. Mac Ian, now fully sensible of the folly of which he had been guilty in postponing to the very last moment an act on which his life and his estate depended, set off for Inverary in great distress. He carried with him a letter from Hill to the Sheriff of Argyleshire, Sir Colin Campbell of Ardkinglass, a respectable gentleman, who, in the late reign, had suffered severely for his Whig principles. In this letter the Colonel expressed a goodnatured hope that, even out of season, a lost sheep, and so fine a lost sheep, would be gladly received. Mac Ian made all the haste in his power, and did not stop even at his own house, though it lay nigh to the road. But at that time a journey through Argyleshire in the depth of winter was necessarily slow. The old man’s progress up steep mountains and along boggy valleys was obstructed by snow storms; and it was not till the sixth of January that he presented himself before the Sheriff at Inverary. The Sheriff hesitated. His power, he said, was limited by the terms of the proclamation, and he did not see how he could swear a rebel who had not submitted -within the prescribed time. Mac Ian begged earnestly and with tears that he might be sworn. His people, he said, would follow his example. If any of them proved refractory, he w'ould himself send the recusant to prison, or ship him off for Flanders. His entreaties WILLIAM AND MART. 9 and Hill’s letter overcame Sir Colin’s scruples. The oath was administered; and a certificate was transmitted to the Council - at Edinburgh, setting forth the special circumstances which had induced the Sheriff to do what he knew not to be strictly regular.* The news that Mac Ian had not submitted within the prescribed time was received with cruel joy by three powerful Scotchmen who were then at the English Court. Breadalbane had gone up to London at Christmas in order to give an account of his stewardship. There he met his kinsman Argyle. Argyle was, in personal qualities, one of the most insignificant of the long line of nobles who have borne that great name. He was the descendant of'eminent men, and the parent of eminent men. He was the grandson of one of the ablest of Scottish politicians; the son of one of the bravest and most truehearted of Scottish patriots; the father of one Mac Callum More renowned as a warrior and as an orator, as the model of every courtly grace, and as the judicious patron of arts and letters, and of another Mac Callum More distinguished by talents for business and command, and by skill in the exact sciences. Both of such an ancestry and of such a progeny Argyle was unworthy. He had even been guilty of the crime, common enough among Scottish politicians, but in him singularly disgraceful, of tampering with the agents of James while professing loyalty to William. Still Argyle had the importance inseparable from high rank, vast domains, extensive feudal rights, and almost boundless patriarchal authority. To him, as to his cousin Breadalbane, the intelligence that the tribe of Glencoe was out of the protection of the law was most gratifying; and the Master of Stair more than sympathized with them both. * Burnet, ii. 8, 9.; Report of the Glencoe Commission. The authorities quoted in this part of the Report were the depositions of Hill, of Campbell of Ardkinglass, and of Mac Ian’s two sons. CHAP.. XVIII. ni!) 2 . 10 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XVIII. The feeling of Argyle andBreadalbane is perfectly intelligible. They were the heads of a great clan; and they had an opportunity of destroying a neighbouring clan with which they were at deadly feud. Breadalhane had received peculiar provocation. His estate had been repeatedly devastated; andhe had just been thwarted in a negotiation of high moment. Unhappily there was scarcely any excess of ferocity for which a precedent could not be found in Celtic tradition. Among all warlike barbarians revenge is esteemed the most sacred of duties and the most exquisite of pleasures; and so it had long been esteemed among the Highlanders. The history of the clans abounds with frightful tales, some perhaps fabulous or exaggerated, some certainly true, of vindictive massacres and assassinations. The Macdonalds of Glengarry, for example, having been affronted by the people of Culloden, surrounded Culloden church on a Sunday, shut the doors, and burned the whole congregation alive. While the flames were raging, the hereditary musician of the murderers mocked the shrieks of the perishing crowd with the notes of his bagpipe.* A band of Macgregors, having cut off the head of an enemy, laid it, the mouth filled with bread and cheese, on his sister’s table, and had the satisfaction of seeing her go mad with horror at the sight. They then carried the ghastly trophy in triumph to their chief. The whole clan met under the roof of an ancient church. Every one in turn laid his»hand on the dead man’s scalp, and vowed to defend the slayers.** The inhabitants of Eigg seized some Macleods, bound them hand and foot, and turned them adrift in a boat to be swallowed up by the waves or to perish of hunger. The Macleods retaliated by driving the population of Eigg into a * Johnson’s Tour to the Hebrides. ** Proclamation of the Privy Council of Scotland, Feb. 4. 1589. I give this reference on the authority of Sir Walter Scott. See the preface to the Legend of Montrose. ■WILLIAM AND MAKY. 11 cavern, lighting a fire at the entrance, and suffocating the chap. whole race, men, women and children* It is much less - 1Gy2 ” strange that the two great Earls of the house of Campbell, animated by the passions of Highland chieftains, should have planned a Highland revenge , than that they should have found an accomplice, and something more than an accomplice, in the Master of Stair. The Master of Stair was one of the first men of his time, a jurist, a statesman, a fine scholar, an eloquent orator. His polished manners and lively conversation were the delight of aristocratical societies; and none who met him in such societies would have thought it possible that he could bear the chief part in any atrocious crime. His political principles were lax, yet not more lax than those of most Scotch politicians of that age. Cruelty had never been imputed to him. Those who most disliked him did him the justice to own that, where his schemes of policy were not concerned, he was a very goodnatured man.** There is not the slightest reason to believe that he gained a single pound Scots by the act which has covered his name with infamy. He had no personal reason to wish the Glencoe men ill. There had been no feud between them and his family. His property lay in a district where their tartan ivas never seen. Yet he hated them with a hatred as fierce and implacable as if they had laid waste his fields, burned his mansion, murdered his child in the cradle. To what cause are we to ascribe so strange an antipathy? This question perplexed the Master’s contemporaries, and any answer which may now be offered ought to be offered with diffidence.*** The most probable conjecture is that he was * Johnson’s Tour to the Hebrides. ** Lockhart's Memoirs. *** “What under heaven was the Master’s byass in this matter? I can imagine none.” — Impartial Account, 1G95. “Nor can any man of candour and ingenuity imagine that the Earl of Stair, who had neither estate, friend- 12 HISTOEr OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XVIII. liiua. actuated'by an inordinate, an unscrupulous, a remorseless zeal for what seemed to him to be the interest of the state. This explanation may startle those who have not considered how large a proportion of the blackest crimes recorded in historyisto be ascribed to ill regulated public spirit. We daily see men do for their party, for their sect, for their country, for their favourite schemes of political and social reform, what they would not do to enrich or to avenge themselves. At a temptation directly addressed to our private cupidity or to our private animosity, whatever virtue we have takes the alarm. But, virtue itself may contribute to the fall of him who imagines that it is in his power, by violating some general rule of morality, to confer an important benefit on a church, on a commonwealth, on mankind. He silences the remonstrances of conscience, and hardens his heart against the most touching spectacles of misery, by repeating to himself that his intentions are pure, that his objects are noble, that he is doing a little evil for the sake of a great good. By degrees he comes altogether to forget the turpitude of the means in the excellence of the end, and at length perpetrates without one internal twinge acts which would shock a buccaneer. There is no reason to believe that Dominic would, for the best archbishopric in Christendom, have incited ferocious marauders to plunder and slaughter a peaceful and industrious population, that Everard Digby would for a dukedom have blown a large assembly of people into the air, or thatllobes- pierre would have murdered for hire one of the thousands whom he murdered from philanthropy. The Master of Stair seems to have proposed to himself a truly great and good end, the pacification and civilisation of the ship nor enmity in that country, nor so much as knowledge of these persons, and who was never noted for cruelty in his temper, should have thirsted after the blood of these wretches.” — Complete History of Europe, 1707, ■WILLIAM AND JIAUX. 13 Highlands. He was, by the acknowledgment of those who most hated him, a man of large views. He justly thought it- monstrous that a third part of Scotland should be in a state scarcely less savage than New Guinea, that letters of fire and sword should, through a third part of Scotland, be, century after century, a species of legal process, and that no attempt should be made to apply a radical remedy to such evils. The independence affected by a crowd of petty sovereigns, the contumacious resistance which they were in the habit of offering to the authority of the Crown and of the Court of Session, their wars, their robberies, their fireraisings, their.practice of exacting black mail from people more peaceable and more useful than themselves, naturally excited the disgust and indignation of an enlightened and politic gownsman, who was, both by the constitution of his mind and by the habits of his profession, a lover of law and order. His object was no less than a complete dissolution and reconstruction of society in the Highlands, such a dissolution and reconstruction as, two generations later, followed the battle of Culloden. In his view the clans, as they existed, were the plagues of the kingdom; and of all the clans, the worst was that which inhabited Glencoe. He had, it is said, been particularly struck by a frightful instance of the lawlessness and ferocity of those marauders. One of them, who had been concerned in some act of violence or rapine, had given information against his companions. He had been bound to a tree and murdered. The old chief had given the first stab; and scores of dirks had then been plunged into the wretch’s body.* By the mountaineers such an act w : as * Dalrymple, in liis Memoirs, relates this story, without referring to any authority. His authority probably was family tradition. That reports were current in 1692 of horrible crimes committed by the Macdonalds of Glencoe, is certain from the Burnet MS. Ilarl. G5S4. “They had indeed been guilty of many black murthers,” were Burnet’s words, written in 1G93. He afterwards softened down this expression. CHAP XVIII 1692. 14 HISTOBY OF ENGLAND. probably regarded as a legitimate exercise of patriarchal jurisdiction. To the Master of Stair it seemed that people among whom such things were done and were approved ought to be treated like a pack of wolves, snared by any device, and slaughtered without mercy. He w'as well read in history, and doubtless knew how great rulers had, in his own and other countries, dealt with such banditti. He doubtless knew with what energy and what severity James the Fifth had put down the mosstroopers of the border, how the chief of Henderland had been hung over the gate of the castle in which he had prepared a banquet for the King; how John Armstrong and his thirty six horsemen, when they came forth to welcome their sovereign, had scarcely been allowed time to say a single prayer before they were all tied up and turned off. Nor probably was the Secretary-ignorant of the means by wdiich Sixtus the Fifth had cleared the ecclesiastical state of outlaws. The eulogists of that great pontiff tell us that there was one formidable gang which could not be dislodged from a stronghold among the Apennines. Beasts of burden were therefore loaded with poisoned food and wine, and sent by a road which ran close to the fastness. The robbers sallied forth, seized the prey, feasted and died; and the pious old Pope exulted greatly when he heard that the corpses of thirty ruffians, who had been the terror of many peaceful villages, had been found lying among the mules and packages. The plans of the Master of Stair were conceived in the spirit of James and of Sixtus; and the rebellion of the mountaineers furnished what seemed to be an excellent opportunity for carrying those plans into effect. Mere rebellion, indeed, he could have easily pardoned. On Jacobites, as Jacobites, he never showed any inclination to bear hard. He hated the Highlanders, not as enemies of this or that dynasty, but as enemies of law, of industry and of trade. In his private correspondence he applied to them the short and WILLIAM AND MAEY. 15 terrible form of words in which the implacable Roman pronounced the doom of Carthage. His project was no less than this, that the whole hill country from sea to sea, and the neighbouring islands, should be wasted with fire and sword, that the Camerons, the Macleans, and all the branches of the race of Macdonald, should be rooted out. He therefore looked with no friendly eye on schemes of reconciliation, and, while others were hoping that a little money would set everything right, hinted very intelligibly his opinion that whatever money was to be laid out on the clans would be best laid out in the form of bullets and bayonets. To the last moment he continued to flatter himself that the rebels would he obstinate, and would thus furnish him with a plea for accomplishing that great social revolution on which his heart was set.* The letter is still extant in which he directed the commander of the forces in Scotland howto act if the Jacobite chiefs should not come in before the end of December. There is something strangely terrible in the calmness and conciseness with which the instructions are given. “Your troops will destroy entirely the country of Lochaber, Lochiel’s lands, Keppoch’s, Glengarry’s and Glencoe’s. Your power shall be large enough. I hope the soldiers will not trouble the government with prisoners.”** This despatch had scarcely been sent off when news arrived in London that the rebel chiefs, after holding out long, had at last appeared before the Sheriffs and taken the oaths. Lochiel, CHAP XVII] 111 1 ) 2 . * That the plan originally framed by the Master of Stair was such as I have represented it, is clear from parts of his letters which are quoted in the Report of 1605; and from his letters to Brcadalbane of October 27,, December 2., and December 3. 1601. Of these letters to Brcadalbane the last two are in Dalrymplc’s Appendix. The first is in the Appendix to the first volume of Mr. Burton’s valuable History of Scotland. “It appeared,” says Burnet (ii. 157.), “that a black design was laid, not only to cut off the men of Glencoe, but a great many more clans, reckoned to be in all above six thousand persons.” ** This letter is in the Report of 1695. 16 HISTOEY OF ENGLAND. CFUP. XVIII. 1692 . the most eminent man among them, had not only declared that he would live and die a true subject to King William, but had announced his intention of visiting England, in the hope of being permitted to kiss His Majesty’s hand. In London it was announced exultingly that every clan, without exception, had submitted in time; and the announcement was generally thought most satisfactory.* But the Master of Stair was bitterly disappointed. The Highlands were then to continue to be what they had been, the shame and curse of Scotland. A golden opportunity of subjecting them to the law had been suffered to escape, and might never return. If only the Macdonalds would have stood out, nay, if an example could but have been made of the two worst Macdonalds, Keppoch and Glencoe, it would have been something. But it seemed that even Keppoch and Glencoe, marauders who in any well governed country would have been hanged thirty years before, were safe.** While the Master was brooding over thoughts like these, Argyle brought him some comfort. The report that Mac Ian had taken the oaths within the prescribed time was erroneous. The Secretary was consoled. One clan, then, was at the mercy of the government, and that clan the most lawless of all. One great act of justice, nay of charity, might be performed. One terrible and memorable example might be given.*** Yet there was a difficulty. Mac Ian had taken the oaths. He had taken them, indeed, too late to be entitled to plead the letter of the royal promise: but the fact that he had taken them was one which evidently ought not to have been concealed from * London Gazette, January 14. and 18. 169-J• ** “I could have wished the Macdonalds had not divided; and I am sorry that Keppoch and Maclcian of Glenco are safe.” Letter of the Master of Stair to Levingstone, Jan. 9. 169 quoted in the Report of 1695. * *** Letter of the Master of Stair to Levingstone, Jan. 11. 169$, quoted in the Report of 1695. WILLIAM AND MAltX. 17 those who were to decide his fate. By a dark intrigue, of which the history is but imperfectly known, but which was, in all probability, directed by the Master of Stair, the evidence of Mac Ian’s tardy submission was suppressed. The certificate which the Sheriff of Argyleshire had transmitted to the Council, at Edinburgh, was never laid before the board, but was privately submitted to some persons high in office, and particularly to Lord President Stair, the father of the Secretary. These persons pronounced the certificate irregular, and, indeed, absolutely null; and it w r as cancelled. Meanwhile the Master of Stair was forming, in concert with Breadalbane andArgyle, a plan for the destruction of the people of Glencoe. It was necessary to take the King’s pleasure, not, indeed, as to the details of what was to be done, but as to the question w'hether Mac Ian and his people should or should not be treated as rebels out of the pale of the ordinary law. The Master of Stair found no difficulty in the royal closet. William had, in all probability, never heard the Glencoe men mentioned except as banditti. He knew that they had not come in by the prescribed day. That they had come in after that day he did not know. If he paid any attention to the matter, he must have thought that so fair an opportunity of putting an end to the (devastations and depredations from which a quiet and industrious population had suffered so much ought not to be lost. An order was laid before him for signature. He signed it, but, if Burnet may be trusted, did not read it. Whoever has seen anything of public business knows that princes and ministers daily sign, and indeed must sign, documents which they have not read: and of all documents a document relating to a small tribe of mountaineers, living in a wilderness not set down in any map, was least likely to interest a Sovereign whose mind was full of schemes on winch the fate of Europe might Macaulay, History. VII. 2 CHAP XVIII JCB2. 18 HISTOBX OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XVIII. It 192 , depend.* But, even on the supposition that he read the order •to which he affixed his name, there seems to be no reason for blaming him. That order, directed to the Commander of the Forces in Scotland, runs thus: “As for Mac Ian of Glencoe and that tribe, if they can'be well distinguished from the other Highlanders, it will be proper, for the vindication of public justice, to extirpate that set of thieves.” These words naturally bear a sense perfectly innocent, and would, but for the horrible event which followed, have been universally understood in that sense. It is undoubtedly one of the first duties of every government to extirpate gangs of thieves. This does not mean that every thief ought to be treacherously assassinated in his sleep, or even that every thief ought to be publicly executed after a fair trial, but that every gang, as a gang, ought to be completely broken up, and that whatever severity is indispensably necessary for that end ought to be used. If William had read and weighed the words which were submitted to him by his Secretary, he would probably have understood them to mean that Glencoe was to be occupied by troops, that resistance, if resistance were attempted, was to be put down with a strong hand, that severe punishment was to be inflicted on those leading members of the clan who could be proved to have been guilty of great crimes, that some active young freebooters, who were more used to handle the broad sword than the plough, and who did not seem likely to settle down into quiet labourers, were to be sent to the army in the Low Countries, that others were to be transported to the American plantations, and that those Macdonalds who * Burnet, in 1693, wrote thus about William: — “lie suffers matters to run till there is a great heap of papers; and then he signs them as much ) too fast as he was before too slow in despatching them.” Burnet MS. I-Iarl. 6584. There is no sign either of procrastination or of undue haste in William’s correspondence with Heinsius. The truth is, that the King understood Continental politics thoroughly, and gave his whole mind to them. To English busiuess he attended less, and to Scotch business least Of all, 'f) ■WILLIAM AND MAEY. 19 were suffered to remain in their native valley were to be disarmed and required to give hostages for good behaviour. A plan very nearly resembling this had, we know, actually been the subject of much discussion in the political circles of Edinburgh.* There can be little doubt that William would have deserved well of his people if he had, in this manner, extirpated not only the tribe of Mac Ian, but every Highland tribe whose calling was to steal cattle and burn houses. The extirpation planned by the Master of Stair was of a different kind. His design was to butcher the whole race of thieves, the whole damnable race. Such was the language in which his hatred vented itself. lie studied the geography of the wild country which surrounded Glencoe, and made his arrangements with infernal skill. If possible, the blow'must be quick, and crushing, and altogether unexpected. But if Mac Ian should apprehend danger and should attempt to take refuge in the territories of his neighbours, he must find every road barred. The pass of Rannoch must be secured. The Laird of Weems, who was powerful in Strath Tay, must be told that, if he harbours the outlaw's, he does so at his peril. Breadalbane promised to cut off the retreat of the fugitives on one side, Mac Callum More on another. It was fortunate, the Secretary w'rote, that it w'as winter. This was the time to maul the wretches. The nights were so long, the mountain tops so cold and stormy, that even the hardiest men could not long bear exposure to the open air without a roof or a spark of fire. That the women and the children could find shelter in the desert was quite impossible. While he wrote thus, no thought that he was committing a great wickedness crossed his mind. He was happy in the approbation of his own conscience. Duty, justice, nay charity and mercy, were the names under which he disguised his CHAP xvm 11192 . * Impartial Account, 1695. 2 * 20 HISTOBY 02? ENGLAJO). chap, cruelty; nor is it by any means improbable that the disguise im- "hih ~ P ose< ^ u pon himself.* Hill, who commanded the forces assembled at Port William, was not entrusted with the execution of the design. He seems to have been a humane man; he was much distressed when he learned that the government was determined on severity; and it was probably thought that his heart might fail him in the most critical moment. He was directed to put a strong detachment under the orders of his second in command, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton. To Hamilton a significant hint was conveyed that he had now an excellent opportunity of establishing his character in the estimation of those who were at the head of affairs. Of the troops entrusted to him a large proportion w r ere Campbells, and belonged to a regiment lately raised by ftrgyle, and called by Argyle’s name. It was probably thought that, on such an occasion, humanity might prove too strong for the mere habit of military obedience, and that little reliance could be placed on hearts which had not been ulcerated by a feud such as had long raged between the people of Mac Ian and the people of Mac Callum More. Had Hamilton marched openly against the Glencoe men and put them to the edge of the sw r ord, the act would probably not have wanted apologists, and most certainly would not have wanted precedents. But the Master of Stair had strongly recommended a different mode of proceeding. If the least alarm were given, the nest of robbers would be found empty; and to hunt them down in so wild a region would, even with all the help that Breadalbane and Argyle could give, be a long and difficult business. “Better,” he wrote, “ not meddle with them than meddle to no purpose. When the thing is resolved, let it he secret and sudden.”** He was obeyed; and it was de- * See his letters quoted in the Report of 1095; and in the Memoirs of the Massacre of Glencoe. ** Report of.1695 I WIIXIAJI AND JIAUX. 21 termined that the Glencoe men should perish, nothy military cnAp. execution, but by the most dastardly and perfidious form of as- sassination. On the first of February a hundred and twenty soldiers of Argyle’s regiment, commanded by a captain named Campbell and a lieutenant named Lindsay, marched to Glencoe. Captain Campbell was commonly called in Scotland Glenlyon, from the pass in which his property lay. He had every qualification for the service on which he was employed, an unblushing forehead, a smooth lying tongue, and a heart of adamant. lie was also one of the few Campbells who were likely to be trusted and welcomed by the Macdonalds: for his niece was married to Alexander, the second son of Mac Ian. The sight of the red coats approaching caused some anxiety among the population of the valley. John, the eldest son of the Chief,' came, accompanied by twenty clansmen, to meet the strangers, and asked what this visit meant. Lieutenant Lindsay answered that the soldiers came as friends, and wanted nothing but quarters. They were kindly received, and were lodged under the thatched roofs of the little community. Glenlyon and several of his men were taken into the house of a tacksman who was named, from the cluster of cabins over which he exercised authority, Inverriggen. Lindsay was accommodated nearer to the abode of the old chief. Auchintria- ter, one of the principal men of the clan, who governed the small hamlet of Auchnaion, found room there for a party commanded by a serjeant named Barbour. Provisions were liberally supplied. There was no want of beef, which had probably fattened in distant pastures; nor was any payment demanded: for in hospitality, as in thievery, the Gaelic marauders rivalled the Bedouins. During twelve days the soldiers lived familiarly with the people of the glen. Old Mac Ian, who had before felt many misgivings as to the relation in which he stood to the ■, :i ■. 'jYt/j- 22 HISTOKY OP ENGLAND. CITAP. XVIII. 1692 . government, seems to have been pleased with the visit. The - officers passed much of their time with him and his family. The long evenings were cheerfully spent by the peat fire with the help of some packs of cards which had found their way to that remote corner of the world, and of some French brandy which was probably part of James’s farewell gift to his Highland supporters. Glenlyon appeared to be warmly attached to his niece and her husband Alexander. Every day he came to their house to take bis morning draught. Meanwhile he observed ■with minute attention all the avenues by which, when the signal for the slaughter should be given, the Macdonalds might attempt to escape to the hills; and he reported the result of his observations to Hamilton. Hamilton fixed five o’clock in the morning of the thirteenth of February for the deed. He hoped that, before that time, he should reach Glencoe with four hundred men, and should have stopped all the earths in which the old -fox and his two cubs, — so Mac Ian and his sons were nicknamed by the murderers,— could take refuge. But, at five precisely, whether Hamilton had arrived or not, Glenlyon was to fall on, and to slay every Macdonald under seventy. The night was rough. Hamilton and his troops made slow progress, and were long after their time. While they were contending with the wind and snow, Glenlyon was supping and playing at cards with those whom he meant to butcher before daybreak. He and Lieutenant Lindsay had engaged themselves to dine with the old Chief on the morrow. Late in the evening a vague suspicion that some evil was intended crossed the mind of the Chief’s eldest son. The soldiers were evidently in a restless state; and some of them uttered strange cries. Two men, it is said, were overheard whispering. “I do not like this job:” one of them muttered, “I should be glad to fight the Macdonalds. But to kill men in their beds —” ■WILLIAM AND MART. 23 “We must do as we are bid,” answered another voice. “If chap. there is any thing wrong, our officers must answer for it.” John 1(i 3 2 ~ Macdonald was so uneasy that, soon after midnight, he went to Glenlyon’s quarters. Glenlyon and his men were all up, and seemed to be getting their arms ready for action. John, much alarmed, asked what these preparations meant. Glenlyon ivas profuse of friendly assurances. “Some of Glengarry’s people have been harrying the country. We are getting ready to march against them. You are quite safe. Do you think that, if you were in any danger, I should not have given a hint to your brother Sandy and his wife?” John’s suspicions were quieted. He returned to his house, and lay down to rest. It was live in the morning. Hamilton and his men were still some miles off; and the avenues which they were to have secured were open. But the orders which Glenlyon had received were precise; and he began to execute them at the little village where he was himself quartered. His host Inverrigen and nine other Macdonalds were dragged out of their beds, bound hand and foot, and murdered. A boy twelve years old clung round the Captain’s. legs, and begged hard for life. He would do any thing: he would go anywhere: he would follow Glenlyon round the world. Even Glenlyon, it is said, showed signs of relenting: but a ruffian named Drummond shot the child dead. At Auchnaion the tacksmanAuchintriater was up early that morning, and was sitting with eight of his family round the fire, when a volley of musketry laid him and seven of his companions dead or dying on the floor. His brother, who alone had escaped unhurt, called to Serjeant Barbour, who commanded the slayers, and asked as a favour to be allowed to die in the open air. “Well,” said the Serjeant, “I will do you that favour for the sake of your meat which I have eaten.” The mountaineer, bold, athletic, and favoured by the darkness, came 24 HISTORY OR ■ENGLAND. forth, rushed on the soldiers who were about to level their pieces at him, flung his plaid over their faces, and was gone in a moment. Meanwhile Lindsay had knocked at the door of the old Chief and had asked for admission in friendly language. The door was opened. Mac Ian, while putting on his clothes and calling to his servants to bring some refreshment for his visitors, was shot through the head. Two of his attendants were slain with him. His wife was already up and dressed in such finery as the princesses of the rude Highland glens were accustomed to wear. The assassins pulled off her clothes and trinkets. The rings were not easily taken from her fingers; but a soldier tore them away with his teeth. She died on the following day. The statesman, to whom chiefly this great crime is to be ascribed, had planned it with consummate ability: but the execution was complete in nothing but in guilt and infamy. A succession of blunders saved three fourths of the Glencoe men from the fate of their chief. All the moral qualities which fit men to bear a part in a massacre Hamilton and Glenlyon possessed in perfection. But neither seems to have had much professional skill. Hamilton had arranged his plan without making allowance for bad weather, and this in a country and at a season when the weather was very likely to be bad. The consequence was that the fox earths, as he called them, were not stopped in time. Glenlyon and his men committed the error of despatching their hosts with firearms instead of using the cold steel. The peal and flash of gun after gun gave notice, from three different parts of the valley at once, that murder was doing. From fifty cottages the half naked peasantry fled under cover of the night to the recesses of their pathless glen. Even the sons of Mac Ian, who had been especially marked out WIIXIAAl AND MAIIY, 25 for destruction, contrived to escape. They were roused from sleep by faithful servants. John, who, by the death of his father, had become the patriarch of the tribe, quitted his dwelling just as twenty soldiers with fixed bayonets marched up to it. It was broad day long before Hamilton arrived. He found the work not even half performed. About thirty corpses lay wallowing in blood on the dunghills before the doors. One or two women were seen among the number, and, a yet more fearful and piteous sight, a little hand, which had been lopped in the tumult of the butchery from some infant. One aged Macdonald was found alive. He was probably too infirm to fly, and, as he was above seventy, was not included in the orders under which Glenlyon had acted. Hamilton murdered the old man in cold blood. The deserted hamlets were then set on fire; and the troops departed, driving away with them many sheep and goats, nine hundred kine, and two hundred of the small shaggy ponies of the Highlands. It is said, and may but too easily be believed, that the sufferings of the fugitives were terrible. How many old men, how many women with babes in their arms, sank dow'n and slept their last sleep in the snow; how many, having crawled, spent with toil and hunger, into nooks among the precipices, died in those dark holes, and were picked to the hone by the mountain ravens, can never be known. But it is probable that those who perished by cold, weariness and want were not less numerous than those who were slain by the assassins. When the troops had retired, the Macdonalds crept out of the caverns of Glencoe, ventured back to the spot where the huts had formerly stood, collected the scorched corpses from among the smoking ruins, and performed some rude rites of sepulture. The tradition runs that the hereditary bard of the tribe took his seat on a rock which overhung the place of slaughter, and poured forth a long lament over his murdered brethren and his desolate home. CHAP XVIII 11192 . 26 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XVIII. 1692 . Eighty years later that sad dirge was still repeated by the - population of the valley. * The survivors might well apprehend that they had escaped the shot and the sword only to perish by famine. The whole domain was a waste. Houses, barns, furniture, implements of husbandry, herds, flocks, horses, were gone. Many months must elapse before ’the clan would be able to raise on its own ground the means of supporting even the most miserable existence.** It may be thought strange that these events should not have been instantly followed by a burst of execration from every part of the civilised world. The fact, however, is that years elapsed before the public indignation was thoroughly awakened, and that months elapsed before the blackest part of the story found credit even among the enemies of the government. That the massacre should not have been mentioned in the London Gazettes, in the Monthly Mercuries which were scarcely less courtly than the Gazettes, or in pamphlets licensed by official censors, is perfectly intelligible. But that no allusion to it should be found in private journals and letters, written by per- * Deposition of Ronald Macdonald in the Report of 1695; Letters from the Mountains, May 17. 1773. I quote Mrs. Grant’s authority only for what she herself heard and saw. Her account of the massacre was written apparently without the assistance of books, and is grossly incorrect. Indeed she makes a mistake of two years as to the date. ** I have taken the account of the Massacre of Glencoe chiefly from the Report of 1695, and from the Gallienus Redivivus. An unlearned, and indeed a learned, reader may be at a loss to guess why the Jacobites should have selected so strange a title for a pamphlet on the massacre of Glencoe. The explanation will be found in a letter of the Emperor Gallienus, preserved by Trebellius Pollio in the Life of Ingenuus. Ingenuus had raised a rebellion in Moesia. He was defeated and killed. Gallienus ordered the whole province to be laid waste, and wrote to one of his lieutenants in language to which that of the Master of Stair bore but too much resemblance. “Non mihi satisfacies si tantum armatos occideris, quos et fors belli interimere potuisset. Periraendus est omnis sexus virilis. Oc- cidendus est quicunque maledixit. Occidendus est quicunque male voluit. Lacera. Occide. Concide.’ 1 mLUAJI AND 5IABY. 27 sons free from all restraint, may seem extraordinary. There chap. is not a word on the subject in Evelyn’s Diary. In Narcissus J692 _- Luttrell’s Diary is a remarkable entry made five weeks after the butchery. The letters from Scotland, he says, described that kingdom as perfectly tranquil, except that there was still some grumbling about ecclesiastical questions. The Dutch ministers regularly reported all the Scotch news to their government. They thought it worth while, about this time, to mention that a collier had been taken by a privateer near Berwick, that the Edinburgh mail had been robbed, that a whale, with a tongue seventeen feet long and seven feet broad, had been stranded near Aberdeen. But it is not hinted in any of their despatches that there was any rumour of any extraordinary occurrence in the Highlands. Reports that some of the Macdonalds had been slain did indeed, in about three weeks, travel throughEdinburgh up to London. But these reports were vague and contradictory; and the very worst of them was far from coming up to the horrible truth. The Whig version of the story was that the old robber Mac Ian had laid an ambuscade for the soldiers, that he had been caught in his own snare, and that he and some of his clan had fallen sword in hand. The Jacobite version, sent from Edinburgh on the twenty-third of March, appeared in the Paris Gazette of the seventh of April. Glenlyon, it was said, had been sent with a detachment from Argyle’s regiment, under cover of darkness, to surprise the inhabitants of Glencoe, and had killed thirty six men and boys and four women.* In this there w r as nothing very strange or shocking. A night attack on a gang of freebooters occupying a strong natural fortress may be a perfectly legitimate military operation; and, in the obscurity and confusion of such an attack, the most humane man may be so unfortunate as to shoot a woman or a child. The * What I have called the Whig version of the story is given, as well as the Jacobite version, in the Paris Gazette of April 7. 1692. 28 HISTOEY OF ENGLAND, CHAP. XVIII. I £92. circumstances which give a peculiar character to the slaughter of Glencoe, the breach of faith, the breach of hospitality, the twelve days of feigned friendship and conviviality, of morning calls, of social meals, of healthdrinking, of cardplaying; were not mentioned by the Edinburgh correspondent of the Paris Gazette; and we may therefore confidently infer that those circumstances were as yet unknown even to inquisitive and busy malecontents residing in the Scottish capital within a hundred miles of the spot where the deed had been done. In the south of the island the matter produced, as far as can now be judged, scarcely any sensation. To the Londoner of those days Appin was what Caffraria or Borneo is to us. lie was not more moved by hearing that some Highland thieves had been surprised and killed than we are by hearing that a band of Amakosah cattle stealers has been cut off, or that a bark full of Malay pirates has been sunk. He took it for granted that nothing had been done in Glencoe beyond what was doing in many other glens. There had been a night brawl, one of a hundred night brawls, between the Macdonalds and the Campbells; and the Campbells had knocked the Macdonalds on the head. By slow degrees the whole truth came out. From a letter written at Edinburgh about two months after the crime had been committed, it appears that the horrible story was already current among the Jacobites of that city. In the summer Argyle’s regiment was quartered in the south of England, and some of the men made strange confessions, over their ale, about what they had been forced to do in the preceding winter. The nonjurors soon got hold of the clue, and followed it resolutely : their secret presses went to work; and at length, near a year after the crime had been committed, it was published to the world.* But the world was long incredulous. The habitual * I believe that the circumstances which give so peculiar a character of atrocity to the Massacre of Glencoe were first published in print by WILLIAM AND MAKY. 29 mendacity of the Jacobite libellers had brought on them an appropriate punishment. Now, when, for the first time, they- told the truth, they were supposed to be romancing. They complained bitterly that the story, though perfectly authentic, was regarded by the public as a factious lie.* So late as the year 1695, Hickes, in a tract in which he endeavoured to defend his darling tale of the Theban legion against the unanswerable argument drawn from the silence of historians, remarked that it might well be doubted whether any historian would make mention of the massacre of Glencoe. There were in England, he said, many thousands of well educated men who had never heard of that massacre, or who regarded it as a mere fable.** Nevertheless the punishment of some of the guilty began very early. Hill, who indeed can hardly be called guilty, was much disturbed. Breadalbane, hardened as he was, felt the stings of conscience or the dread of retribution. A few days after the Macdonalds had returned to their old dwellingplace, his steward visited the ruins of the house of Glencoe, and endeavoured to persuade the sons of the murdered chief to sign a paper declaring that they held the Earl guiltless of the blood which had been shed. They were assured that, if they would do this, all His Lordship’s great influence should be employed to obtain for them from the Crown a free pardon and a remission of all forfeitures.*** Glenlyon did his best to assume an air of unconcern. He made his appearance in the most fashionable coffeehouse at Edinburgh, and talked loudly and self-compla- Charles Leslie in the Appendix to his answer to King. The date of Leslie’s answer is 1092. But it must be remembered that the date of 1692 was then used down to what we should call the 25th of March 1693. Leslie’s book contains some remarks on a sermon by Tillotson which was not printed till November 1692. The Gallienus Redivivus speedily followed. * Gallienus Redivivus. ** Hickes on Burnet and Tillotson, 1695. *** Report of 1696. CHAP, XVII I. "7692. 30 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XVIII. 1652. William goes to the Con tinenl. Death o Louvois. cently about the important service in which he had been en- - gaged among the mountains. Some of his soldiers, however, who observed him closely, whispered that all this bravery was put on. He was not the man that he had been before that night. The form of his countenance was changed. In all places, at all hours, whether he waked or slept, Glencoe was for ever before him.* But, whatever apprehensions might disturb Breadalbane, whatever spectres might haunt Glenlyon, the Master of Stair had neither fear nor remorse. He was indeed mortified: but he was mortified only by the blunders of Hamilton and by the escape of so many of the damnable breed. “Do right, and fear nobody;” such is the language of his letters. “Can there be a more sacred duty than to rid the country of thieving? The only thing that I regret is that any got away.”** On the sixth of March, William, entirely ignorant, in all - probability, of the details of the crime which has cast a dark shade over his glory, had set out for the Continent, leaving the Queen his vicegerent in England.*** He would perhaps have postponed his departure if he had been aware that the French Government had, during some time, been making great preparations for a descent on our f island, f An event had taken place which had changed the * Gallicnns Rcdivivus. ** Report of 1695. *** 3.iondon Gazette, Mar. 7. 169J. f Burnet (ii. 93.) says that the King was not at this time informed of the intentions of the French Government. Ralph contradicts Burnet with great asperity. But that Burnet w'as in the right is proved beyond dispute by William’s correspondence with Heinsius. So late as April 2-1. May I. William wrote thus: “Je ne puis vous dissimuler que je commenced apprehender une descente en Angleterre, quoique jo n’aye pu le croire d’abord: muis les avis sont si multiplies de tous les c6t£s, ot accompagny de tant de particularity, qu’il n’est plus gufere possible d’en douter." I quote from the French translation among the Mackintosh MSS. wuxiam akh haby. 31 policy of the Court of Versailles. Louvois was no more. He had been at the head of the military administration of his • country during a quarter of a century: he had borne a chief part in the direction of two wars which had enlarged the French territory, and had filled the world with the renown of the French arms; and he had lived to see the beginning of a third war -which tasked his great powers to the utmost. Between him and the celebrated captains who carried his plans into execution there was little harmony. His imperious temper and his confidence in himself impelled him to interfere too much with the conduct of troops in the field, even when those troops were commanded by Conde, by Turenne or by Luxemburg. But he was the greatest Adj utant General, the greatest Quartermaster General, the greatest Commissary General, that Enrope had seen. He may indeed be said to have made a revolution in the art of disciplining, distributing, equipping and provisioning armies. In spite, however, of his abilities and of his services, he had become odious to Lewis and to her who governed Lewis. On the last occasion on -which the King and the minister transacted business together, the ill humour on both sides broke violently forth. The servant, in his vexation, dashed his portfolio on the ground. The master, forgetting, what he seldom forgot, that a King should be a gentleman, lifted his cane. Fortunately his wife was present. She, with her usual prudence, caught his arm. She then got Louvois out of the room, and exhorted him to come back the next day as if nothing had happened. The next day he came; but with death in his face. The King, though full of resentment, W'as touched with pity, and.advised Louvois to go home and take care of himself. That evening the great minister died* * Burnet, ii. 95. end Onslow’s note; M^raoires dc Saint Simon; Md- moires de Dangeau. CHAP xvm 1692 . 32 HISTORY OR ENGLAND. Louvois had constantly opposed all plans for the invasion of England. His death was therefore regarded at Saint Germains as a fortunate event.* It was however necessary to look sad, and to send a gentleman to Versailles with some words of condolence. The messenger found the gorgeous circle of courtiers assembled round their master on the terrace above the orangery. “Sir,” said Lewis, in a tone so easy and cheerful that it filled all the bystanders with amazement, “present my compliments and thanks to the King and Queen of England, and tell them that neither my affairs nor theirs will go on the worse for what has happened.” These words were doubtless meant to intimate that the influence of Louvois had not been exerted in favour of the House of Stuart.** One compliment, however, a compliment which cost France dear, Lewis thought it right to pay to the memory of his ablest servant. The Marquess of Barbe- sieux, son of Louvois, was placed, in his twenty-fifth year, at the head of the war department. The young man was by no means deficient in abilities, and had been, during some years, employed in business of grave importance. But his passions were strong; his judgment was not ripe; and his sudden elevation turned his head. His manners gave general disgust. Old officers complained that he kept them long in his antechamber while he was amusing himself with his spaniels and his flatterers. Those who were admitted to his presence -went away disgusted by his rudeness and arrogance. As was natural at his age, he valued power chiefly as the means of procuring pleasure. Millions of crowns were expended on the luxurious villa w’here he loved to forget the cares of office in gay conversation, delicate cookery and foaming champagne. He often pleaded an attack of fever as an excuse for not making his appearance at the * Life of James ii. 411, 412. ** M6moires de Dangeau; Mtfmoires de Saint Simon. Saint Simon was on tbe terrace, and, young as lie was, observed this singular scene with an eye which nothing escaped. WHIIAM AND MANY. 33 proper hour in the royal closet, when in truth he had been chap. playing truant among his boon companions and mistresses. ‘■The French King,” said William, “has an odd taste. He chooses an old woman for his mistress, and a young man for his minister.” * There can be little doubt that Louvois, by pursuing that course which had made him odious to the inmates of Saint Germains, had deserved well of his country. lie was not maddened by Jacobite enthusiasm. He well knew that exiles are the worst of all advisers. He had excellent information: he had excellent judgment: he calculated the chances; and he saw that a descent was likely to fail, and to fail disastrously and disgracefully. James might well be impatient to try the experiment, though the odds should be ten to one against him. He might gain; and he could not lose. His folly and obstinacy had left him nothing to risk. His food, his drink, his lodging, his clothes, he owed to charity. Nothing could be more natural than that, for the very smallest chance of recovering the three kingdoms which he had thrown away, he should be willing to stake W'hat was not his own, the honour of the French arms, the grandeur and the safety of the French monarchy. To a French statesman such a wager might well appear in a different light. But Louvois was gone. His master yielded to the importunity of James, and determined to send an expedition against England.** The scheme was, in some respects, well concerted. It was The resolved that a camp should be formed on the coast of Nor- gt‘"rn- mandy, and that in this camp all the Irish regiments which ”'^ jn d 6 e s ' were in the French service should be assembled under their 10 send an expe- * Mtfmoires de Saint Simon; Burnet, ii. 95.; Guardian No. 48. See against tho excellent letter of Lewis to the Archbishop of Rheims, which is quoted England, by Voltaire in the Sifecle de Louis XIV. ** In the Nairne papers printed by Macpherson are two memorials from James urging Lewis to invade England. Both were written in January 1692. Macaulay , History . VII . 3 34 HISTORY OF EHGLAND. CHAP. XVIII. JtiU2. James believes that Ihe English fleet is friendly to him. countryman Sarsfield. AVith them were to he joined about ten thousand French troops. The whole army was to be commanded by Marshal Bellefonds. A noble fleet of about eighty ships of the line was to convoy this force to the shores of England. In the dockyards both of Britanny and of Provence immense preparations were made. Four and forty men of war, some of which were among the finest that had ever been built, were assembled in the harbour of Brest under Tourville. The Count ofEstrees, with thirty five more, was to sail from Toulon. Ushant was fixed for the place of rendezvous. The very day was named. In order that there might be no want either of seamen or of vessels for the intended expedition, all maritime trade, all privateering was, for a time, interdicted by a royal mandate.* Three hundred transports were collected near the spot where the troops were to embark. It was hoped that all would be ready early in the spring, before the English ships were half rigged or half manned, and before a single Dutch man of war was in the Channel.** James had indeed persuaded himself that, even if the English fleet should fall in with him, it would not oppose him. He imagined that he was personally a favourite with the mariners of all ranks. His emissaries had been busy among the naval officers, and had found some who remembered him with kindness, and others who -were out of humour with the men now in power. All the wild talk of a class of people not distinguished by taciturnity or discretion was reported to him with exaggeration, till he was deluded into a belief that he had more friends than enemies on board of the vessels which guarded our coasts. Yet he should have known that a rough sailor, who thought himself ill used by the Admiralty, might, after the * London Gazette, Feb. 15. 169£. ** Mdmoires de Berwick; Burnet, ii. 92.; Life of James, ii. 478. 491. ■vnU-IAir AND MARY. 35 third bottle, when drawn on by artful companions, express his crap. regret for the good old times, curse the new government, and-^^p- curse himself for being such a fool as to fight for that government, and yet might be by no means prepared to go over to the French on the day of battle. Of the malecontent officers, who, as James believed, were impatient to desert, the great majority had probably given no pledge of their attachment to him except an idle W’ord hiccoughed out when they were drunk, and forgotten when they were sober. One of those from whom he expected support, Rear Admiral Carter, had indeed heard and perfectly understood what the Jacobite agents had to say, had given them fair words, and had reported the whole to the Queen and her ministers.* But the chief dependence of James was on Russell. That Conduct false, arrogant and wayward politician was to command the sell. Channel Fleet. He had never ceased to assure the Jacobite emissaries that he was bent on effecting a Restoration. Those emissaries fully reckoned, if not on his entire cooperation, yet at least on his connivance; and there could be no doubt that, with his connivance, a French fleet might easily convey an army to our shores. James flattered himself that, as soon as he had landed, he should be master of the island. But in truth,, when the voyage had ended, the difficulties of his enterprise would have been only beginning. Two years before he had received a lesson by which he should have profited. He had then deceived himself and others into the belief that the English were regretting him, were pining for him, were eager to rise in arms by tens of thousands to welcome him. William was then, as now, at a distance. Then, as now, the administration was entrusted to a woman. Then, as now, there were few regular troops in England. Torrington had then done as much to injure the government which he served as Russell could * History of the late Conspiracy, 1693, 3 * 36 HISTOEY OP ENGLAND. CIIAP. XVIII. 1G32. now do. The French fleet, had then, after riding, during several weeks, victorious and dominant in the Channel, landed some troops on the southern coast. The immediate effect had been that whole counties, without distinction of Tory or Whig, Churchman or Dissenter, had risen up,- as one man, to repel the foreigners, and that the Jacobite party, which had, a few days before, seemed to be half the nation, had crouched down in silent terror, and had made itself so small that it had, during some time, been invisible. What reason was there for believing that the multitude who had, in 1690, at the first lighting of the beacons, snatched up firelocks, pikes, scythes, to defend their native soil against the French, would now welcome the French as allies? And of the army by which James was now to be accompanied the French formed the least odious part. More than half of that army was to consist of Irish Papists; and the feeling, compounded of hatred and scorn, with which the Irish Papists had long been regarded by the English Protestants, had by recent events been stimulated to a vehemence before unknown. The hereditary slaves, it was said, had been for a moment free; and that moment had sufficed to prove that they knew neither how to use nor how to defend their freedom. During their short ascendency they had done nothing but slay, and burn, and pillage, and demolish, and attaint, and confiscate. In three years they had committed such waste on their native land as thirty years of English intelligence and industry would scarcely repair. They would have maintained their independence against the world, if they had been as ready to fight as they were to steal. But they had retreated ignomini- ously from the walls of Londonderry. They had fled like deer before the yeomanry of Enniskillen. The Prince whom they now presumed to think that they could place, by force of arms, on the English throne, had himself, on the morning after the rout of the Boyne, reproached them with then- cowardice, and ■WILLIAM AND MART. 37 told them that he would never again trust to their soldiership. On this subject Englishmen were of one mind. Tories, Nonjurors, even Roman Catholics, were as loud as Whigs in reviling the ill fated race.. It is, therefore, not difficult to guess what effect would have been produced by the appearance on our soil of enemies whom, on their own soil, we had vanquished and trampled down. James, however, in spite of the recent and severe teaching of experience, believed whatever his correspondents in England told him; and they told him that the whole nation was impatiently expecting him, that both the West and the North were ready to rise, that he would proceed from the place of landing to Whitehall with as little opposition as when, in old times, he returned from a progress. Ferguson distinguished himself by the confidence with which he predicted a complete and bloodless victory. He and his printer, he was absurd enough to write, would be the two first men in the realm to take horse for His Majesty. Many other agents w'ere busy up and down the country, during the winter and the early part of the spring. It does not appear that they had much success in the counties south of Trent. But in the north, particularly in Lancashire, where the Roman Catholics were more numerous and more powerful than in any other part of the kingdom, and where there seems to have been, even among the Protestant gentry, more than the ordinary proportion of bigoted Jacobites, some preparations for an insurrection were made. Arms were privately bought; officers were appointed; yeomen, small farmers, grooms, huntsmen, were induced to enlist. Those who gave in their names were distributed into eight regiments of cavalry and dragoons, and were directed to hold themselves in readiness to mount at the first signal. * * Life of James, ii. 479. 524. Memorials furnished by Ferguson to Holmes in the Nairne Papers. CTTAP. XVII [. 16U2. 38 HISTORY OY ENGLAND. chap. One of the circumstances which filled James, at this time, ~ Ja ~~ va ™ h°P es > was that his wife was pregnant and near her a dough- delivery. He flattered himself that malice itself would be tojamiu. ashamed to repeat any longer the story of the warming pan, and that multitudes whom that story had deceived would instantly return to their allegiance. He took, on this occasion, all those precautions which, four years before, he had foolishly and perversely forborne to take. He contrived to transmit to England letters summoning many Protestant women of quality to assist at the expected birth; and he promised, in the name of his dear brother the Most Christian King, that they should be free to come and go in safety. Had some of these witnesses been invited to Saint James’s on the morning of the tenth of June 1688 , the House of Stuart might, perhaps, now be reigning in our island. But it is easier to keep a crown than to regain one. It might be true that a calumnious fable had done much to bring about the Revolution. But it by no means followed that the most complete refutation of that fable would bring about a Restoration. Not a single lady crossed the sea in obedience to James’s call. His Queen was safely delivered of a daughter; but this event produced no perceptible effect on the state of public feeling in England. * tons’"" Meanwhile the preparations for his expedition were going made in on fast. He was on the point of setting out for the place of ti> repel embarkation before the English government w'as at all aware of invasion. . June 1692 ‘ TIie French official account will be found in the Monthly Mercury for July. A report drawn up by Foucault, Intendnnt of the province of Normandy, will be found in M. Capefigue’s Louis XIV. CHAP. XVIH. I6U2. Rejoicings in England. 54 msTcmr of England. chap. XVIII. 1692 . was the first great check that had ever been given to the arms of Lewis the Fourteenth, and the first great victory that the English had gaine.d over the French since the day of Agincourt. The stain left on our fame by the shameful defeat of Beachy Head was effaced. This time the glory was all our own. The Dutch had indeed done their duty, as they have always done it in maritime war, whether fighting on our side or against us, whether victorious or vanquished. But the English had borne the brunt of the fight. Itussell who commanded in chief was an Englishman. Delaval who directed the attack on Cherburg was an Englishman. Hooke who led the flotilla into the Bay of La Hogue was an Englishman. The only two officers of note who had fallen, Admiral Carter and Captain Hastings of the Sandwich, were Englishmen. Yet the pleasure with which the good news was received here must not be ascribed solely or chiefly to national pride. The island was safe. The pleasant pastures, cornfields and commons of Hampshire and Surrey ■would not be the seat of war. The houses and gardens, the kitchens and dairies, the cellars and plate chests, the wives and daughters of our gentry and clergy would not be at the mercy of Irish Rapparees, who had sacked the dwellings and skinned the cattle of the Englishry of Leinster, or of French dragoons accustomed to live at free quarters on the Protestants of Auvergne. Whigs and Tories joined in thanking God for this great deliverance; and the most respectable nonjurors could not but be glad at heart that the rightful King was not to be brought back by an army of foreigners. The public joy was therefore all but universal. During several days the bells of London pealed without ceasing. Flags were flying on all the steeples. Rows of candles w'ere in all the windows. Bonfires were at all the corners of the streets.* The * An Account of the late Great Victory, 1G92; Monthly Mercury for June; Baden to the Statea General, . iy -V -5 Narcissus Luttrcll’s Diary. June J. ’ J WHLIAM AND MABY. 55 sense ■which the government entertained of the services of the navy was promptly, judiciously and gracefully manifested. Sidney and Portland were sent to meet the fleet at Portsmouth, and were accompanied by Rochester, as the representative of the Tories. The three Lords took down with them thirty seven thousand pounds in coin, which they were to distribute as a donative among the sailors.* Gold medals were given to the officers.** The remains of Hastings and Carter were brought on shore with every mark of honour. Carter was buried at Portsmouth, with a great display of military pomp.f The corpse of Hastings was brought up to London, and laid, with unusual solemnity, under the pavement of Saint James’s Church. The footguards with reversed arms escorted the hearse. Pour royal state carriages, each drawn by six horses, were in the procession: a crowd of men of quality in mourning cloaks filled the pews; and the Bishop of Lincoln preached the funeral sermon, ff While such marks of respect were paid to the slain, the wounded were not neglected. Fifty surgeons, plentifully supplied with instruments, bandages, and drugs, were sent down in all haste from London to Portsmouth.!ft It is not easy for us to form a notion of the difficulty which there then was in providing at short notice commodious shelter and skilful attendance for hundreds of maimed and lacerated men. At present every county, every large town, can boast of some spacious palace in which the poorest labourer who has fractured t limb may find an excellent bed, an able medical attendant, a careful nurse, medicines of the best quality, and nourishment such as an invalid requires. But there was not then, in the * London Gazette, June 2. ](>92; Monthly Mercury; Baden to the States General, June ^ 5 .; Narcissus LuttreH’s I)inry. ** Narcissus LuttrcIPs Diary; Monthly Mercury. •}• London Gazette, June 9.: Baden to the States General, June •j-f Baden to the States General, June 1 3 ^. -+t Baden to the States General, r V '■> Narcissus LuttroH’s Diary. ' ' T June o. “ CTTAP. XVIII. 161)2. ICS 56 HISTOBY OF ENGLAND. rnAP. whole realm, a single infirmary supported by voluntary con- ■ ^ tribution. Even in the capital the only edifices open to the wounded were the two ancient hospitals of Saint Thomas and Saint Bartholomew. The Queen gave orders that in both these hospitals arrangements should be made at the public charge for the reception of patients from the fleet.* At the same time it was announced that a noble and lasting memorial of the gratitude w'hich England felt for the courage and patriotism of her sailors would soon rise on a site eminently appropriate. Among the suburban residences of our kings, that which stood at Greenwich had long held a distinguished place. Charles the Second liked the situation, and determined to rebuild the house and to improve the gardens. Soon after his Restoration, ■ he began to erect, on a spot almost washed by the Thames at high tide, a mansion of vast extent and cost. Behind the palace were planted long avenues of trees which, when William reigned, were scarcely more than saplings, but w'hich have now covered with their massy shade the summer rambles of several generations. On the slope which has long been the scene of the holiday sports of the Londoners, W'ere constructed flights of terraces, of which the vestiges may still be discerned. The Queen now publicly declared, in her husband’s name, that the building commenced by Charles should be completed, and should be a retreat for seamen disabled in the service of then country.** One of the happiest effects produced by the good news was the calming of the public mind. During about a month the nation had been hourly expecting an invasion and a rising, and had consequently been in an irritable and suspicious mood. ]h many parts of England a nonjuror could not show himself * An Account of the l'atc Great Victory, 1692; Narcissus Luttrcl’s Diary. ** Baden to the States General, June T 7 7 . 1692. ■william and hart. 57 without great risk of being insulted. A report that arms were ciiap. hidden in a house sufficed to bring a furious mob to the door. ' [( . 9 ~ - The mansion of one Jacobite gentleman in Kent had been attacked, and, after a fight in which several shots were fired, had been stormed and pulled down* Yet such riots were by- no means the worst symptoms of the fever which had inflamed the whole society. The exposure of Fuller, in February, had, as it seemed, put an end to the practices of that vile tribe of which Oates was the patriarch. During some weeks, indeed, the world was disposed to be unreasonably incredulous about plots. But in April there was a reaction. The French and Irish were coming. There was but too much reason to believe that there were traitors in the island. Whoever pretended that he could point out those traitors was sure to be heard with attention ; and there was not wanting a false witness to avail himself of the golden opportunity. This false witness was named Robert Young. His history Young’s . plot. was in his own lifetime so fully investigated, and so much of his correspondence has been preserved, that the whole man is before us. His character is indeed a curious study. His birthplace was a subject of dispute among three nations. The English pronounced him Irish. The Irish, not being ambitious of the honour of having him for a countryman, affirmed that he was born in Scotland. Wherever he may have been born, it is impossible to doubt where he was bred: for his phraseology is precisely that of the Teagues who w 7 ere, in his time, favourite characters on our stage. He called himself a priest of the Established Church: but he was in truth only a deacon; and his deacon’s orders he had obtained by producing forged certificates of his learning and moral character. Long before the Revolution he held curacies in various parts of Ireland; but he did not remain many days in any spot. He was driven from one * Narcissus Luttreil’s Diary. 58 HISTOEY OF ENGIAETD. map. XVIII. 1632 . place by the scandal which was the effect of his lawless amours, lie rode away from another place on a borrowed horse, which he never returned. He settled in a third parish, and was taken up for bigamy. Some letters which he wrote on this occasion from the gaol of Cavan have been preserved. He assured each of his wives, with the most frightful imprecations, that she alone ivas the object of his love; and he thus succeeded in inducing one of them to support him in prison, and the other to save his life by forswearing herself at the assizes. The only specimens which remain to us of his method of imparting religious instruction are to be found in these epistles. He compares himself to David, the man after God’s own heart, who had been guilty both of adultery and murder. He declares that he repents: he prays for the forgiveness of the Almighty, and then intreats his dear honey, for Christ’s sake, to perjure herself. Having narrowly escaped the gallows, he wandered during several years about Ireland and England, begging, stealing, cheating, personating, forging, and lay in many prisons under many names. In 1G84 he was convicted at Bury of having fraudulently counterfeited Sancroft’s signature, and was sentenced to the pillory and to imprisonment. Prom his dungeon he wrote to implore the Primate’s mercy. The letter may still be read with all the original bad grammar and bad spelling.* The writer acknowledged his guilt, wished that his eyes were a fountain of water, declared that he should never know peace till he had received episcopal absolution, and professed a mortal hatred of Dissenters. As all this contrition and all this orthodoxy produced no effect, the penitent, after swearing bitterly to be revenged on Sancroft, betook himself to another device. The Western Insurrection had just broken out. The magistrates all over the country w'ere but too ready to * I give one short sentence ns a specimen: “0 fie that ever it should be said that a clergyman have committed such durty actions! n •WXLLIAUr AND HAEY. 59 listen to any accusation that might be brought against Whigs and Nonconformists. Young declared on oath that, to his knowledge, a design had been formed in Suffolk against the life of King James, and named a peer, several gentlemen, and ten Presbyterian ministers, as parties to the plot. Some of the accused were brought to trial; and Young appeared in the witness box: but the story which he told was proved by overwhelming evidence to be false. Soon after the Revolution he was again convicted of forgery, pilloried for the fourth or fifth time, and sent to Newgate. While he lay there, he determined to try whether he should be more fortunate as an accuser of Jacobites than he had been as an accuser of Puritans. He first addressed himself to Tillotson. There was a horrible plot against their Majesties, a plot as deep as hell; and some of the first men in England were concerned in it. Tillotson, though he placed little confidence in information coming from such a source, thought that the oath which he had taken as a Privy Councillor made it his duty to mention the subject to William. William, after his fashion, treated the matter very lightly. “I am confident,” he said, “that this is a villany; and I will have nobody disturbed on such grounds.” After this rebuff, Young remained some time quiet. But when William was on the Continent, and when the nation was agitated by the apprehension of a French invasion and of a Jacobite insurrection, a false accuser might hope to obtain a favourable audience. The mere oath of a man who was well known to the turnkeys of twenty gaols was not likely to injure any body. But Young was master of a weapon which is, of all weapons, the most formidable to innocence. He had lived during some years by counterfeiting hands, and had at length attained such consummate skill in that bad art that even experienced clerks who were conversant with manuscript could scarcely, after the most minute comparison, discover any difference between his imita- 60 HISTOEY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XVIII. 1G92. tions and the originals. He had succeeded in making a collee- - tion of papers written by men of note who were suspected of disaffection. Some autographs he had stolen; and some he had obtained by writing in feigned names to ask after the characters of servants or curates. He now drew up a paper purporting to be an Association for the Restoration of the banished King. This document set forth that the subscribers bound themselves in the presence of God to take arms for His Majesty, and to seize on the Prince of Orange, dead or alive. To the Association Young appended the names of Marlborough, of Cornbury, of Salisbury, of Sancroft, and of Sprat, Bishop of Rochester and Dean of Westminster. The next thing to be done was to put the paper into some hiding place in the house of one of the persons whose signatures had been counterfeited. As Young could not quit Newgate, he was forced to employ a subordinate agent for this purpose. He selected a wretch named Blackhead, who had formerly been convicted of pequry and sentenced to have his ears clipped. The selection was not happy; for Blackhead had none of the qualities which the trade of a false witness requires except wickedness. There was nothing plausible about him. His voice was harsh. Treachery was written in all the lines of his yellow face. He had no invention, no presence of mind, and could do little more than repeat by rote the lies taught him by others. This man, instructed by his accomplice, repaired to Sprat’s palace at Bromley, introduced himself there as the confidential servant of an imaginary Doctor of Divinity, delivered to the Bishop, on bended knee, a letter ingeniously manufactured by Young, and received, with the semblance of profound reverence, the episcopal benediction. The servants made the stranger welcome. He was taken to the cellar, drank their master’s health, and entreated them to let him see the house. WILLIAM AND MAEY. 61 They could not venture to show any of the private apartments. Blackhead, therefore, after begging importunately, but in- vain, to be suffered to have one look at the study, was forced to content himself with dropping the Association into a flowerpot which stood in a parlour near the kitchen. Every thing having been thus prepared, Young informed the ministers that he could tell them something of the highest importance to the welfare of the State, and earnestly begged to be heard. Ilis request reached them on perhaps the most anxious day of an anxious month. Tourville had just stood out to sea. The army of James was embarking. London was agitated by reports about the disaffection of the naval officers. The Queen was deliberating whether she should cashier those who were suspected, or try the effect of an appeal to their honour and patriotism. At such a moment the ministers could not refuse to listen to any person who professed himself able to give them valuable information. Young and his accomplice were brought before the Privy Council. They there accused Marlborough, Cornbury, Salisbury, Sancroft and Sprat of high treason. These great men, Young said, had invited James to invade England, and had promised to join him. The eloquent and ingenious Bishop of Rochester had undertaken to draw up a Declaration which would inflame the nation against the government of King William. The conspirators were bound together by a written instrument. That instrument, signed by their own hands, would be found at Bromley if careful search was made. Young particularly requested that the messengers might be ordered to examine the Bishop’s flowerpots. The ministers were seriously alarmed. The story was circumstantial; and part of it w'as probable. Marlborough’s dealings with Saint Germains were well known to Caermarthen, to Nottingham and to Sidney. Cornbury w'as a tool of Marlborough, and was the son of a nonjuror and of a notorious cnAp XVIII 10112 . 62 mSTOBT OP ENGLAND. cnAP. XVI11. 1602 . plotter. Salisbury xvas a Papist. Sanoroft had, not many months before, been, with too much show of reason, suspected of inviting the French to invade England. Of all the accused persons Sprat was the most unlikely to be concerned in any hazardous design. He had neither enthusiasm nor constancy. Both his ambition and his party spirit had always been effectually kept in order by his love of ease and his anxiety for his own safety. He had been guilty of some criminal compliances in the hope of gaining the favour of James, had sate in the High Commission, had concurred in several iniquitous decrees pronounced by that court, and had, with trembling hands and faltering voice, read the Declaration of Indulgence in the choir of the Abbey. But there he had stopped. As soon as it began to be whispered that the civil and religious constitution of England would speedily be vindicated by extraordinary means, he had resigned the powers which he had during two years exercised in defiance of law, and had hastened to make his peace with his clerical brethren. He had in the Convention voted for a Regency: but he had taken the oaths without hesitation: he had borne a conspicuous part in the coronation of the new Sovereigns; and by his skilful hand had been added to the Form of Prayer used on the fifth of November those sentences in which the Church expresses her gratitude for the second great deliverance wrought on that day.* Such a man, possessed of a plentiful income, of a seat in the House of Lords, of one agreeable house among the elms of Bromley, and of another in the cloisters of Westminster, was very unlikely to run the risk of martyrdom. He was not, indeed, on perfectly good terms with the government. For the feeling which, next to solicitude for his own comfort and repose, seems to have had the greatest influence on his public conduct, was his dislike of the Puritans; a dislike which sprang, not from bigotry, but * Gutch, Collectanea Curiosa. WILLIAM AND MARY 63 from Epicureanism. Their austerity was a reproach to his slothful and luxurious life: their phraseology shocked his fastidious taste; and, where they were concerned, his ordinary good nature forsook him. Loathing the nonconformists as he did, he was not likely to be very zealous for a prince whom the nonconformists regarded as their protector. But Sprat’s faults afforded ample security that he would never, from spleen against William, engage in any plot to bring back James. Why Young should have assigned the most perilous part in an enterprise full of peril to a man singularly pliant, cautious and selfindulgent, it is difficult to say. The first step which the ministers took was to send Marlborough to the Tower. He was by far the most formidable of all the accused persons; and that he had held a traitorous correspondence with Saint Germains was a fact which, whether Young were perjured or not, the Queen and her chief advisers knew to be true. One of the Clerks of the Council and several messengers were sent down to Bromley with a warrant from Nottingham. Sprat w'as taken into custody. All the apartments in which it could reasonably be supposed that he would have hidden an important document w r ere searched, the library, the diningroom, the drawingroom, the bedchamber, and the adjacent closets. ITis papers were strictly examined. Much good prose was found, and probably some bad verse, but no treason. The messengers pried into every flowerpot that they could find, but to no purpose. It never occurred to them to look into the room in which Blackhead had hidden the Association: for that room was near the offices occupied by the servants, and was little used by the Bishop and his family. The officers returned to London with their prisoner, but without the document which, if it had been found, might have been fatal to him. Late at night he tvas brought to Westminster, and was CHAP. XVIII. 11132 . cnAP. xvn r. 161 ) 2 . 64 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. suffered to sleep at his deanery. All his bookcases and drawers were examined; and sentinels were posted at the door of his bedchamber, but with strict orders to behave civilly and not to disturb the family. On the following day he was brought before the Council. The examination ivas conducted by Nottingham with great humanity and courtesy. The Bishop, conscious of entire innocence, behaved with temper and firmness. He made no complaints. “I submit,” he said, “to the necessities of State in such a time of jealousy and danger as this.” lie was asked whether he had drawn up a Declaration for King James, whether he had held any correspondence with France, whether he had signed any treasonable association, and whether he knew of any such associaticfn. To all these questions he, with perfect truth, answered in the negative, on the word of a Christian and a Bishop. He was taken back to his deanery. He remained there in easy confinement during ten days, and then, as nothing tending to criminate him had been discovered, was suffered to return to Bromley. Meanwhile the false accusers had been devising a new scheme. Blackhead paid another visit to Bromley, and contrived to take the forged Association out of the place in which he had hid it, and to bring it back to Young. One of Young’s two wives then carried it to the Secretary’s Office, and told alie, invented by her husband, to explain how a paper of such importance had come into her hands. But it was not now so easy to frighten the ministers as it had been a few days before. The battle of La Hogue had put an end to all apprehensions of invasion. Nottingham, therefore, instead of sending down a warrant to Bromley, merely wrote to beg that Sprat would call on him at Whitehall. The summons was promptly obeyed, and the accused prelate was brought face to face with Blackhead before the Council. Then the truth came out fast. The Bishop •WILLIAM AM MAHY. 65 remembered the villanous look and voice of the man who had knelt to ask the episcopal blessing. The Bishop’s secretary- confirmed his master’s assertions. The false witness soon lost his presence of mind. His cheeks, always sallow, grew frightfully livid. Ilis voice, generally loud and coarse, sank into a whisper. The Privy Councillors saw his confusion, and crossexamined him sharply. Por a time he answered their questions by repeatedly stammering out his original lie in the original words. At last he found that he had no way of extricating himself but by owning his guilt. He acknowledged that he had given an untrue account of his visit to Bromley; and, after much prevarication, he related how he had hidden the Association, and how he had removed it from its hiding place, and confessed that he had been set on by Young. The two accomplices were then confronted. Young, with unabashed forehead, denied every thing. He knew nothing about the flowerpots. “If so,” cried Nottingham and Sidney together, “why did you give such particular directions that the flowerpots at Bromley should be searched?” “I never gave any directions about the flowerpots,” said Young. Then the whole board broke forth. “How dare you say so? We all remember it.” Still the knave stood up erect, and exclaimed, with an impudence which Oates might have envied, “This hiding is all a trick got up between the Bishop and Blackhead. The Bishop has taken Blackhead off; and they are both trying to stifle the plot.” This was too much. There Avas a smile and a lifting up of hands all round the board. “Man,” cried Caermarthen, “wouldst thou have us believe that the Bishop contrived to have this paper put where it was ten to one that our messengers had found it, and where, if they had found it, it might have hanged him?” The false accusers were removed in custody. The Bishop, after warmly thanking the ministers for their fair and honour- Macaulay, History. Vll. 5 CHAP. xvm. 16112 . 66 HISTORY OE ENGLAND. CHAP, xy In. 1692 . able conduct, took his leave of them. In the antechamber he found a crowd of people staring at Young, while Young sate, enduring the stare with the serene fortitude of a man who had looked down on far greater multitudes from half the pillories in England. “Young,” said Sprat, “your conscience must tell you that you have cruelly wronged me. For your own sake I am sorry that you persist in denying what your associate has confessed.” “Confessed!” cried Young; “no, all is not confessed yet; and that you shall find to your sorrow. There is such a thing as impeachment, my Lord. When Parliament sits you shall hear more of me.” “ God give you repentance,” answered the Bishop. “For, depend upon it, you are in much more danger of being damned than I of being impeached.”* Forty eight hours after the detection of this execrable fraud, Marlborough was admitted to bail. Young and Blackhead had done him an inestimable service. That he was concerned in a plot quite as criminal as that which they had falsely imputed to him, and that the government was in possession of moral proofs of his guilt, is now certain. But his contemporaries had not, as we have, the evidence of his perfidy before them. They knew that he had been accused of an offence of which he was innocent, that perjury and forgery had been employed to ruin him, and that, in consequence of these machinations, he had passed some weeks in the Tower. There was in the public mind a very natural confusion between his disgrace and his imprisonment. He had been imprisoned without sufficient cause. Might it not, in the absence of all information, be reasonably presumed that he had been disgraced without sufficient cause? It was certain that a vile calumny, destitute of all foundation, had caused him to be treated as a criminal in May. * My account of,this plot is chiefly taken from Sprat’s Relation of the late Wicked Contrivance of Stephen Blackhead and Robert Young, 1692. There are very few better narratives in the language. WILLIAM AND MAEY. 67 Was it not probable, then, that calumny might have deprived him of his master’s favour in January? Young’s resources were not yet exhausted. As soon as he had been carried back from Whitehall to Newgate, he set himself to construct a new plot, and to find a new accomplice. He addressed himself to a man named Holland, who was in the lowest state of poverty. Never, said Young, was there such a golden opportunity. A bold, shrewd, fellow might easily earn five hundred pounds. To Holland five hundred pounds seemed fabulous w'ealth. What, he asked, was he to do for it? Nothing, he was told, but to speak the truth, that was to say, substantial truth, a little disguised and coloured. There really was a plot; and this would have been proved if Blackhead had not been bought off. His desertion had made it necessary to call in the help of fiction. “You must swear that you and I were in a back room upstairs at the Lobster in Southwark. Some men came to meet us there. They gave a password before they were admitted. They were all in white camlet cloaks. They signed the Association in our presence. Then they paid each his shilling and went away. And you must be ready to identify my Lord Marlborough and the Bishop of Rochester as two of these men.” “How can I identify them?” said Holland, “I never saw them.” “You must contrive to see them,” answered the tempter, “as soon as you can. The Bishop will be at the Abbey. Anybody about the Court will point out my Lord Marlborough.” Holland immediately went to Whitehall, and repeated this conversation to Nottingham. The unlucky imitator of Oates was prosecuted, by order of the government, for perjury, subornation of perjury, and forgery. He was convicted and imprisoned, was again set in the pillory, and underwent, in addition to the exposure, about which he cared little, such a pelting as had seldom been known. * After * Baden to the States General, Feb. 1693. 5 * CHAP. XVIII. 1692 . 68 mSTOEY OP ENGLAND. CnAP. X VIII. 11 ) 113 . his punishment, he was, during some years, lost in the crowd of pilferers, ringdroppers and sharpers who infested the capital. At length, in the year 1700, he emerged from his obscurity, and excited a momentary interest. The newspapers announced that Robert Young, Clerk, once so famous, had been taken up for coining, then that he had been found guilty, then that the dead warrant had come down, and finally that the reverend gentleman had been hanged at Tyburn, and had greatly edified a large assembly of spectators by his penitence.* * Postman, April 13. and 20. 1700; Postboy, April 18.; Flying Post f April 20, "WILLIAM AUD HABY. 69 C HAP TER XIX. While England was agitated , first by the dread of an in- chap. vasion, and then by joy at the deliverance wrought for her by | C92 . ~ the valour of her seamen, important events were taking place Foreign on the Continent. On the sixth of March the King had arrived wiiilim! at the Hague, and had proceeded to make his arrangements for the approaching campaign.* The prospect which lay before him was gloomy. The coalition of which he was the author and the chief had, during some months, been in constant danger of dissolution. By what strenuous exertions, by what ingenious expedients, by what blandishments, by what bribes, he succeeded in preventing his allies from throwing themselves, one by one, at the feet of France, can be but imperfectly known. The fullest and most authentic record of the labours and sacrifices by which he kept together, during eight years, a crowd of faint-hearted and treacherous potentates, negligent of the common interest and jealous of each other, is to be found in his correspondence with Heinsius. In that correspondence William is all himself. He had, in the course of his eventful life, to sustain some high parts for which he was not eminently qualified; and, in those parts, his success was imperfect. As Sovereign of England, he showed abilities and virtues which entitle him to honourable mention in history: but his deficiencies were great. He was to the last a stranger among us, cold, reserved, never in good spirits, never at his ease. His kingdom was a place of exile. His finest palaces -were prisons. He was always counting the days which * London Gazette, March 14. 1692. 70 msTcmy of englam). chap. must elapse before he should again see the land of his birth, the “IH— clipped trees, the wings of the innumerable windmills, the nests of the storks on the tall gables, and the long lines of painted villas reflected in the sleeping canals. He took no pains to hide the preference which he felt for his native soil and for his early friends; and therefore, though he rendered great services to our country, he did not reign in our hearts. As a general in the field, again, he showed rare courage and capacity: but, from whatever cause, he was, as a tactician, inferior to some of his contemporaries, who, in general powers of mind, were far inferior to him. The business for which he was preeminently fitted was diplomacy, in the highest sense of the word. It may be doubted whether he has ever had a superior in the art of conducting those great negotiations on which the welfare of the commonwealth of nations depends. His skill in this department of politics was never more severely tasked or more signally proved than during the latter part of 1691 and the earlier part of 1692. Northern O ne dhief difficulties was caused by the sullen and powers, menacing demeanour of the Northern powers. Denmark and Sweden had at one time seemed disposed to join the coalition: but they had early become cold, and were fast becoming hostile. From France they flattered themselves that they had little to fear. It was not very probable that her armies would cross the Elbe, or that her fleets would force a passage through the Sound. But the naval strength of England and Holland united might well excite apprehension at Stockholm and Copenhagen. Soon arose vexatious questions of maritime right, questions such as, in almost every extensive war of modern times, have arisen between belligerents and neutrals. The Scandinavian princes complained that the legitimate trade between the Baltic and France was tyrannically interrupted. Though they had not in general been on very friendly terms with each other, they ■WILLIAM ALT) MAEY. 71 began to draw close together, intrigued at every petty German ciup. court, and tried to form what William called a Third Party in ^ - Europe. The King of Sweden, who, as Duke of Pomerania, was bound to send three thousand men for the defence of the Empire , sent, instead of them, his advice that the allies would make peace on the best terms which they could get.* The King of Denmark seized a great number of Dutch merchantships, and collected in Holstein an army which caused no small uneasiness to his neighbours. “I fear,” William wrote, in an hour of deep dejection, to TIeinsius, “I fear that the object of this Third Party is a peace which will bring in its train the slavery of Europe. The day will come when Sweden and her confederates will know too late how great an error they have committed. They are farther, no doubt, than we from the danger; and therefore it is that they are thus bent on working our ruin and their own. That France will now consent to reasonable terms is not to be expected; and it were better to fall sword in hand than to submit to whatever she may dictate.”** While the King was thus disquieted by the conduct of the ThoPopo. Northern pow'ers, ominous signs began to appear in a very different quarter. It had, from the first, been no easy matter to induce sovereigns who hated, and who, in their own dominions, persecuted, the Protestant religion, to countenance the revolution which had saved that religion from a great peril. But happily the example and the authority of the Vatican had overcome then - scruples. Innocent the Eleventh and Alexander the Eighth had regarded William with ill concealed partiality. He was not indeed their friend; but he was their enemy’s enemy; and James had been, and, if restored, must again be, their enemy’s vassal. To the heretic nephew therefore they gave * The Swedes came, it is true, but not till the campaign was over. London Gazette, Sept. 10. 1691. ** William to Heinsius, March 1692. 72 HXSXOEY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. 1692 . Conduct of the allies. their effective support, to the orthodox uncle only compliments ■ and benedictions. But Alexander the Eighth had occupied the papal throne little more than fifteen months. His successor, Antonio Pignatelli, who took the name of Innocent the Twelfth, was impatient to be reconciled to Lewis. Lewis was now sensible that he had committed a great error when he had roused against himself at once the spirit of Protestantism and the spirit of Popery. He permitted the French Bishops to submit themselves to the Holy See. The dispute, which had, at onetime, seemed likely to end in a great Gallican schism, was accommodated; and there was reason to believe that the influence of the head of the Church would be exerted for the purpose of severing the ties which bound so many Catholic princes to the Calvinist who had usurped the British throne. Meanwhile the coalition, which the Third Party on one side and the Pope on the other were trying to dissolve, was in no small danger of falling to pieces from mere rottenness. Two of the allied powers, and two only, were hearty in the common cause; England, drawing after her the other British kingdoms; and Holland, drawing after her the other Batavian commonwealths. England and Holland were indeed torn by internal factions, and were separated from each other by mutual jealousies and antipathies: but both were fully resolved not to submit to French domination; and both were ready to bear their share, and more than their share, of the charges of the contest. Most of the members of the confederacy were not nations, but men, an Emperor, a King, Electors, Dukes; and of these men there was scarcely one whosewhole soul was in the struggle, scarcely one who did not hang back, who did not find some excuse for omitting to fulfil his engagements, who did not expect to be hired to defend his own rights and interests against the common enemy. But the war was the war of the people of England and of the people of Holland. Had it not been so, the WILLIAM AND MAST. 73 burdens which it made necessary would not have been borne by either England or Holland during a single year. When William said that he would rather die sword in hand than humble himself before France, he expressed what was felt, not by himself alone, but by two great communities of which he was the first magistrate. With those two communities, unhappily, other states had little sympathy. Indeed those two communities were regarded by other states as rich, plaindealing, generous dupes are regarded by needy sharpers. England and Holland were wealthy; and they were zealous. Their wealth excited the cupidity of the whole alliance; and to that wealth their zeal was the key. They were persecuted with sordid importunity by all their confederates, from Ccesar, who, in the pride of his solitary dignity, would not honour King William with the title of Majesty, down to the smallest Margrave who could see his whole principality from the cracked windows of the mean and ruinous old house which he called his palace. It was not enough that England and Holland furnished much more than their contingents to the war by land, and bore unassisted the whole charge of the w’ar by sea. They were beset by a crowd of illustrious mendicants, some rude, some obsequious, but all indefatigable and insatiable. One prince came mumping to them annually with a lamentable story about his distresses. A more sturdy beggar threatened to join the Third Party, and to make a separate peace with France, if his demands w r ere not granted. Every Sovereign too had his ministers and favourites; and these ministers and favourites were perpetually hinting that France was willing to pay them for detaching their masters from the coalition, and that it would be prudent in England and Holland to outbid France. Yet the embarrassment caused by the rapacity of the allied courts was scarcely greater than the embarrassment caused by their ambition and their pride. This prince had set his heart chap. XIX. ioua. 74 HISTOEY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. The Emperor. on some childish distinction, a title or a cross, and would do - nothing for the common cause till his wishes were accomplished. That prince chose to fancy that he had been slighted, and wmuld not stir till reparation had been made to him. The Duke of Brunswick Lunenburg would not furnish a battalion for the defence of Germany unless he was made an Elector.* The Elector of Brandenburg declared that he was as hostile as he had ever been to France: but he had been ill used by the Spanish government; and he therefore would not suffer his soldiers to be employed in the defence of the Spanish Netherlands. He was willing to bear his share of the war: but it must be in his own way: he must have the command of a distinct army; and he must be stationed between the Rhine and the Meuse.** The Elector of Saxony complained that bad winter quarters had been assigned to his troops: he therefore recalled them just when they should have been preparing to take the field, but very coolly offered to send them back if England and Holland would give him four hundred thousand rixdollars.*** It might have been expected that at least the two chiefs of the House of Austria would have put forth, at this conjuncture, all their strength against the rival House of Bourbon. Unfortunately they could not be induced to exert themselves vigorously even for their owm preservation. They were deeply interested in keeping the French out of Italy. Yet they could with difficulty be prevailed upon to lend the smallest assistance to the Duke of Savoy. They seemed to think it the business of England and Holland to defend the passes of the Alps, and to prevent the armies of Lewis from overflowing Lombardy. To the Emperor indeed the war against France was a secondary object. His first object was the war against Turkey. He was * William to Heinsiua, Feb. 1692. ** William to Heinsius, Jan. 1692. .*** William to Ueinsius, Jan. 1692. WILLIAM AND MARY. 75 dull and bigoted. His mind misgave him that the war against chap. France was, in some sense, a war against the Catholic religion; - ‘^ 2 — and the war against Turkey was a crusade. His recent campaign on the Danube had been successful. He might easily have concluded an honourable peace with the Porte, and have turned his arms westward. But he had conceived the hope that he might extend his hereditary dominions at the expense of the Infidels. Visions of a triumphant entry into Constantinople and of a Te Deum in Saint Sophia’s had risen in his brain. He not only employed in the East a force more than sufficient to have defended Piedmont and reconquered Loraine; but he seemed to think that England and Holland were bound to reward him largely for neglecting their interests and pursuing his own - * Spain already was what she continued to be down to our Spain, own time. Of the Spain which had domineered over the land and the ocean, over the Old and the New World, of the Spain which had, in the short space of twelve years, led captive a Pope and a King of France, a Sovereign of Mexico and a Sovereign of Peru, of the Spain which had sent an army to the walls of Paris and had equipped a mighty fleet to invade England, nothing remained but an arrogance which had once excited terror and hatred, but which could now excite only derision. In extent, indeed, the dominions of the Catholic King exceeded those of Rome when Rome was at the zenith of power. But the huge mass lay torpid and helpless, and could be insulted or despoiled with impunity. The whole administration, military and naval, financial and colonial, was utterly disorganized. Charles was a fit representative of his kingdom, impotent physically, intellectually and morally, sunk in ignorance, listlessness and superstition, yet swollen with a notion of his own dignity, and quick to imagine and to resent * Burnet, it. 82, 83.; Correspondence of William and Heinsius, passim. 76 HISTORY 03? EJTGIAHD. ciiap. affronts. So wretched had, his education been that, when he —was told of the fall of Mons, the most important fortress in his vast empire, he asked whether Mons was in England.* Among the ministers who were raised up and pulled down by his sickly caprice, was none capable of applying a remedy to the distempers of the State. In truth to brace aneiv the nerves of that paralysed body would have been a hard task even for Ximenes. No servant of the Spanish Crown occupied a more important post, and none w’as more unfit for an important post, than the Marquess of Gastanaga. He was Governor of the Netherlands; and in the Netherlands it seemed probable that the fate of Christendom would be decided. He had discharged his trust as every public trust was then discharged in every part of that vast monarchy on which it was boastfully said that the sun never set. Fertile and rich as W’as the country which he ruled, he threw on England and Holland the whole charge of defending it. He expected that arms, ammunition, waggons, provisions, every thing, w’ould be furnished by the heretics. It had never occurred to him that it w’as his business, and not theirs, to put Mons in a condition to stand a siege. The public voice loudly accused him of having sold that celebrated stronghold to France. But it is probable that he W’as guilty of nothing worse than the haughty apathy and sluggishness characteristic of his nation. succeeds Such was the state of the coalition of which William was the in prc- head. There w’ere moments when he felt himself overwhelmed, ■venting . * 1 the disso- when his spirits sank, when his patience was wearied out, and the coa- w'hen his constitutional irritability broke forth. “I cannot,” ho 11 ’ wrote, “offer a suggestion without being met by a demand for a subsidy.”** “I have refused point blank,” he wrote on an- * M&noires de Torcy. ** William to Ilcinsius, ~ 1G91. WIXUAM AND MAEY. 77 other occasion, when he had been importuned for money: “it is impossible that the States General and England can bear the ■ charge of the army on the Rhine, of the army in Piedmont, and of the whole defence of Flanders, to say nothing of the immense cost of the naval war. If our allies can do nothing for themselves, the sooner the alliance goes to pieces the better.”* But, after every short fit of despondency and ill humour, he called up all the force of his mind, and put a strong curb on his temper. Weak, mean, false, selfish, as too many of the confederates were, it was only by their help that he could accomplish what he had from his youth up considered as his mission. If they abandoned him, France would be dominant without a rival in Europe. Well as they deserved to be punished, he would not, to punish them, acquiesce in the subjugation of the whole civilised world. He set himself therefore to surmount some difficulties and to evade others. The Scandinavian powers he conciliated by waiving, reluctantly indeed, and not without a hard internal struggle, some of his maritime rights.** At Home his influence, though indirectly exercised, balanced that of the Pope himself. Lewis and James found that they had not a friend at the Vatican except Innocent; and Innocent, whose nature was gentle and irresolute, shrank from taking a course directly opposed to the sentiments of all who surrounded him. In private conversations with Jacobite agents he declared himself devoted to the interest of the House of Stuart: but in his public acts he observed a strict neutrality. He sent twenty thousand crowns to Saint Germains: but he excused himself to the enemies of Franco by protesting that this was not a subsidy for any political purpose, but merely an alms to be distributed among poor British Catholics. He permitted prayers for the good cause to he read in the English College at Rome: hut he CHAP. XIX. 161 ) 2 . * William to Heinsius, Jan. 1692. ** His letters to Heinsius are full of this subject. 78 EISTOBT OP ENGLAND. CHAP. xix. 1692 . insisted that those prayers should be drawn up in general terms, ■ and that no name should be mentioned. It was in vain that the ministers of the Houses of Stuart and Bourbon adjured him to take a more decided course. “ God knows,” he exclaimed on one occasion, “that I would gladly shed my blood to restore the King of England. But what can I do ? If I stir, I am told that I am favouring the French, and helping them to set up an universal monarchy. I am not like the old Popes. Kings will not listen to me as they listened to my predecessors. There is no religion now, nothing but wicked, worldly policy. The Prince of Orange is master. He governs us all. He has got such a hold on the Emperor and on the King of Spain that neither of them dares to displease him. God help us! He alone can help us.” And, as the old man spoke, he beat the table with his hand in an agony of impotent grief and indignation.* To keep the German princes steady was no easy task: but it was accomplished. Money was distributed among them, much less indeed than they asked, but much more than they had any decent pretence for asking. With the Elector of Saxony a composition was made. He had, together with a strong appetite for subsidies, a great desire to be a member of the most select and illustrious orders of knighthood. It seems that, instead of the four hundred thousand rixdollars which he had demanded, he consented to accept one hundred thousand and the Garter.** His prime minister Schcening, the most covetous * See the Letters from Rome among tho Nairne Papers. Those in 1692 are from Lytcott; those in 1693 from Cardinal Howard; those in 1694 from Bishop Ellis; those in 1695 from Lord Perth. They all tell the same story. ** William’s correspondence with Heinsius; London Gazette, Feb. 4. 1691. In a pasquinade published in 1693, and entitled “La Foire d’Aus- bourg, Ballet AU^goriquethe Elector of Saxony is introduced saying; “Moy, je diray naivement, Qu’une jartibre d’Angleterre WnXIAM AND MART. 79 and perfidious of mankind, was secured by a pension.* For ciiap. the Duke of Brunswick Lunenburg, William, not without llii)2 ■- difficulty, procured the long desired title of Elector of Hanover. By such means as these the breaches which had divided the coalition were so skilfully repaired that it appeared still to present a firm front to the enemy. William had complained bitterly to the Spanish government of the incapacity and inertness of Gastanaga.. The Spanish meats for government, helpless and drowsy as it was, could not be vernmont altogether insensible to the dangers which threatened Flanders Spanish and Brabant. Gastanaga was recalled; and William was in- J^“ r " vited to take upon himself the government of the Low Countries, with powers not less than regal. Philip the Second would not easily have believed that, within a century after his death, his greatgrandson would implore the greatgrandson of William the Silent to exercise the authority of a sovereign at Brussels.** The offer was in one sense tempting: but William was too wise to accept it. He knew that the population of the Spanish Netherlands was firmly attached to the Church of Rome. Every act of a Protestant ruler was certain to be regarded with suspicion by the clergy and people of those countries. Already Gastanaga, mortified by his disgrace, had written to inform the Court of Rome that changes were in contemplation which would make Ghent and Antwerp as heretical as Amsterdam and London.*** It had doubtless also occurred to William that if, . by governing mildly and justly, and by showing a decent Eeroit tout mon empressement; Et jo ne vois rien sur la terra Ou jo Irouve plus d’agr^ment.” * William’s correspondence with Heinsius. There is a curious account of Schcening in the Memoirs of Count Dohna. ** Burnet, ii. 84. *** Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary. 80 HISTORY OF EtfGYAKE. CHAP. xi.\. J6U2. respect for the ceremonies and the ministers of the Roman Catholic religion, he should succeed in obtaining the confidence of the Belgians, he would inevitably raise against himself a storm of obloquy in our island. He knew by experience ■what it was to govern two nations strongly attached to two different Churches. A large party among the Episcopalians of England could not forgive him for having consented to the establishment of the presbyterian polity in Scotland. A large party among the Presbyterians of Scotland blamed him for maintaining the episcopal polity in England. If he now took under his protection masses, processions, graven images, friaries, nunneries, and, worst of all, Jesuit pulpits, Jesuit confessionals and Jesuit colleges, what could he expect but that England and Scotland would join in one cry of reprobation? He therefore refused to accept the government of the Low Countries, and proposed that it should be entrusted to the Elector of Bavaria. The Elector of Bavaria was, after the Emperor, the most powerful of the Roman Catholic potentates of Germany. He was young, brave, and ambitious of military distinction. The Spanish Court was 'willing to appoint him; and he was desirous to be appointed: but much delay was caused by an absurd difficulty. The Elector thought it beneath him to ask for what he wished to have. The formalists of the Cabinet of Madrid thought it beneath the dignity of the Catholic King to give what had not been asked. Mediation was necessary, and was at last successful. But much time was lost; and the spring was far advanced before the new Governor of the Netherlands entered on his functions.* * Monthly Mercuries of January and April 1693; Burnet, ii. 84. In the Burnet MS. Harl. 6584, is a warm eulogy on the Elector of Bavaria. When the MS. was written he was allied with England against France. In the History, which was prepared for publication when he was allied with France against England, the eulogy is omitted. WILLIAM AND MAEY. 81 William had saved the coalition from the danger of perishing chap. by disunion. But by no remonstrance, by no entreaty, by no - 1692 ’ ~ bribe, could he prevail on his allies to be early in the field. Lewis They ought to have profited by the severe lesson which had Oo id'. been given them in the preceding year. But again every one of them lingered, and wondered why the rest were lingering; and again he who singly wielded the whole power of France was found, as his haughty motto had long boasted, a match for a multitude of adversaries.* Ilis enemies, while still unready, learned with dismay that he had taken the field in person at the head of his nobility. On no occasion had that gallant aristocracy appeared with more splendour in his train. A single circumstance may suffice to give a notion of the pomp and luxury of his camp. Among the musketeers of his household rode, for the first time, a stripling of seventeen, who soon afterwards succeeded to the title of Duke of Saint Simon, and to whom we owe those inestimable memoirs which have preserved, for the delight and instruction of many lands and of many generations, the vivid picture of a France which has long passed away. Though the boy’s family was at that time very hard pressed for money, he travelled with thirty five horses and sumpter mules. The princesses of the blood, each surrounded by a groupe of highborn and graceful ladies, accompanied the King; and the smiles of so many charming women inspired the throng of vain and voluptuous but highspirited gentlemen with more than common courage. In the brilliant crow’d which surrounded the French Augustus appeared the French Virgil, the graceful, the tender, the melodious Racine. He had, in conformity with the prevailing fashion, become devout, had given up w'riting for the theatre; and, having determined to apply himself vigorously to the discharge of the duties which belonged to him as historiographer of France, he now came to see the great * “Nec pluribus impair.” Macaulay, History. VII . 6 82 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP, XIX. 161 ) 2 . Siege of Namur. events which it was his office to record.* In the neighbourhood ■of Mons, Lewis entertained the ladies with the most magnificent review that had ever been seen in modern Europe. A hundred and twenty thousand of the finest troops in the world were drawn up in a line eight miles long. It may be doubted whether such an army had ever been brought together under the Roman eagles. The show began early in the morning, and was not over when the long summer day closed. Racine left the ground, astonished, deafened, dazzled, and tired to death. In a private letter he ventured to give utterance to an amiable wish which he probably took good care not to whisper in the courtly circle: “Would to heaven that all these poor fellows were in their cottages again with their wives and their little ones!”** After this superb pageant Lewis announced his intention of attacking Namur. In five days he was under the walls of that city, at the head of more than thirty thousand men. Twenty thousand peasants, pressed in those parts of the Netherlands which the French occupied, were compelled to act as pioneers. Luxemburg, with eighty thousand men, occupied a strong position on the road between Namur and Brussels, and was prepared to give battle to any force which might attempt to raise the siege.*** This partition of duties excited no surprise. It had long been known that the great Monarch loved sieges, and that he did not love battles. He professed to think that the real test of military skill was a siege. The event of an encounter between two armies on an open plain was, in his opinion, often determined by chance: but only science could * Mtfmoires de Saint Simon; Dangeau; Racine’s Letters, and Narrative entitled Relation de ce qui s’est passes au Sifege de Namur; Monthly Mercury, May 1692. ** Mtfmoires de Saint Simon; Racine to Boileau, May 21. 1692. *** Monthly Mercury for June; William to Heinsius, 1692. WILLIAM AJtfD HAEY. 83 prevail against ravelins and bastions which science had constructed. His detractors sneeringly pronounced it fortunate- that the department of the military art which His Majesty considered as the noblest was one in which it was seldom necessary for him to expose to serious risk a life invaluable to his people. Namur, situated at the confluence of the Sambre and the Meuse, was one of the great fortresses of Europe. The town lay in the plain, and had no strength except what was derived from art. But art and nature had combined to fortify that renowned citadel which, from the summit of a lofty rock, looks down on a boundless expanse of cornfields, woods and meadows, watered by two fine rivers. The people of the city and of the surrounding region were proud of their impregnable castle. Their boast was that never, in all the wars which had devastated the Netherlands, had skill or valour been able to penetrate those walls. The neighbouring fastnesses, famed throughout the world for their strength, Antwerp and Ostend, Ypres, Lisle and Tournay, Mons and Valenciennes, Cambray and Charleroi, Limburg and Luxemburg, had opened their gates to conquerors: but never once had the flag been pulled down from the battlements of Namur. That nothing might be wanting to the interest of the siege, the two great masters of the art of fortification were opposed to each other. Vauban had during many years been regarded as the first of engineers: but a formidable rival had lately arisen, Menno, Baron of Cohorn, the ablest officer in the service of the States General. The defences of Namur had been recently strengthened and repaired under Cohorn’s superintendence; and he was now within the walls. Vauban was in the camp of Lewis. It might therefore be expected that both the attack and the defence would be conducted with consummate ability. By this time the allied armies had assembled: but it was too 6 * cnAP. XIX. 11)92. 84 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. cnAP. late.* William hastened towards Namur. He menaced the French works, first from the west, then from the north, then from the east. But between him and the lines of circumvalla- tion lay the army of Luxemburg, turning as he turned, and always so strongly posted that to attack it would have been the height of imprudence. Meanwhile the besiegers, directed by the skill of Vauban and animated by the presence of Lewis, made rapid progress. There were indeed many difficulties to be surmounted and many hardships to be endured. The weather was stormy; and, on the eighth of June, the feast of Saint Medard, who holds in the French Calendar the same inauspicious place which in our Calendar belongs to Saint Switliin, the rain fell in torrents. The Sambre rose and covered many square miles on which the harvest was green. The Mehaigne whirled down its bridges to the Meuse. All the roads became swamps. The trenches were so deep in water and mire that it was the business of three days to move a gun from one battery to another. The six thousand waggons which had accompanied the French army were useless. It was necessary that gunpowder, bullets, com, hay, should be carried from place to place on the backs of the war horses. Nothing but the authority of Lewis could, in such circumstances, have maintained order and inspired cheerfulness. His soldiers, in truth, showed much more reverence for him than for what their religion had made sacred. They cursed Saint Medard heartily, and broke or burned every image of him that could he found. But for their King there was nothing that they were not ready to do and to hear. In spite of every obstacle they constantly gained ground. Cohorn was severely wounded while defending with desperate resolution a fort which he had himself constructed, and of which he was proud. His place could not he supplied. * William to Ileinsius, v* y 1C92. Juno o> WILLIAM AND MABY. 85 The governor was a feeble man whom Gastanaga had appointed, and whom William had recently advised the Elector of Bavaria to remove. The spirit of the garrison gave way. The town surrendered on the eighth day of the siege, the citadel about three weeks later.* The history of the fall of Namur in 1692 bears a close^re- semblance to the history of the fall of Mons in 1691. Both in 1691 and in 1692, Lewis, the sole and absolute master ofthe resources of his kingdom, was able to open the campaign, before William, the captain of a coalition, had brought together his dispersed forces. In both years the advantage of having the first move decided the event of the game. At Namur, as at Mons, Lewis, assisted by Vauban, conducted the siege: Luxemburg covered it: William vainly tried to raise it, and, with deep mortification, assisted as a spectator at the victory of his enemy. In one respect however the fate of the two fortresses was very different. Mons was delivered up by its own inhabitants. Namur might perhaps have been saved if the garrison had been as zealous and determined as the population. Strange to say, in this place, so long subject to a foreign rule, there was found a patriotism resembling that of the little Greek commonwealths. There is no reason to believe that the burghers cared about the balance of power, or had any preference for Janies or for William, for the Most Christian King or for the Most Catholic King. But every citizen considered his oivn honour as bound up with the honour of the maiden fortress. It is true that the French did not abuse their victory. No outrage was com- * Monthly Mercuries of June and July 1692; London Gazettes of June; Gazette de Paris; M&noires do Saint Simon; Journal de Dangeau; William to Heinsius, June -fa. June Vernon’s Letters to Colt, printed in Tindal’s History; Racine’s Narrative, and Letters to Boileau of June 15. and 24. CHAP XIX. 16 ‘J 2 . 86 HISTORY OF ENGLAND, CHAP. XIX. 1092 . mitted: the privileges of the municipality were respected: the - magistrates were not changed. Yet the people could not see a conqueror enter their hitherto unconquered castle without tears of rage and shame. Even the barefooted Carmelites, who had renounced all pleasures, all property, all society, all domestic affection, whose days were all fast days, who passed month after month without uttering a word, were strangely moved. It was in vain that Lewis attempted to sooth them by marks of respect and by munificent bounty. Whenever they met a French uniform they turned their heads away with a look which showed that a life of prayer, of abstinence and of silence had left one earthly feeling still unsubdued.* This was perhaps the moment at which the arrogance of Lewis reached the highest point. He had achieved the last and the most splendid military exploit of his life. Ilis confederated foes, English, Dutch and German, had, in their own despite, swelled his triumph, and had been witnesses of the glory which made their hearts sick. His exultation was boundless. The inscriptions on the medals which he struck to commemorate his success, the letters by which he enjoined the prelates of his kingdom to sing the Te Deum, v r ere boastful and sarcastic. His people, a people among whose many fine qualities moderation in prosperity cannot be reckoned, seemed for a time to be drunk with pride. Even Boileau, hurried along by thh prevailing enthusiasm, forgot the good sense and good taste to W'hich he ow r ed his reputation. He fancied himself a lyric poet, and gave vent to his feelings in a hundred and sixty lines of frigid bombast about Alcides, Mars, Bacchus, Ceres, the lyre of Orpheus, the Thracian oaks and the Per- messian nymphs. He wondered whether Namur had, like Troy, been built by Apollo and Neptune. He asked what power could subdue a city stronger than that before which the * Mdmoires dc Saint Simon. TVULIAM AND MAEY. 87 Greeks lay ten years; and he returned answer to himself that such a miracle could be wrought only by Jupiter or by Lewis. ■ The feather in the hat of Lewis was the loadstar of victory. To Lewis all things must yield, princes, nations, winds, waters. In conclusion the poet addressed himself to the banded enemies of France, and tauntingly bade them carry back to their homes the tidings that Namur had been taken in their sight. Before many months had elapsed both the boastful king and the boastful poet were taught that it is prudent as well as graceful to be modest in the hour of victory. One mortification Lewis had suffered even in the midst of his prosperity. While he lay before Namur, he heard the sounds of rejoicing from the distant camp of the allies. Three peals of thunder from a hundred and forty pieces of cannon were answered by three volleys from sixty thousand muskets. It was soon known that these salutes were fired on account of the battle of La Hogue. The French King exerted himself to appear serene. “They make a strange noise,” he said, “about the burning of a few ships.” In truth he was much disturbed, and the more so because a report had reached the Low Countries that there had been a sea fight, and that his fleet had been victorious. His good humour however was soon restored by the brilliant success of those operations which were under his own immediate direction. "When the siege was over, he left Luxemburg in command of the army, and returned to Versailles. At Versailles the unfortunate Tourville soon presented himself, and was graciously received. As soon as he appeared in the circle, the King welcomed him in a loud voice. “I am perfectly satisfied with you and with my sailors. AVe have been beaten, it is true: but your honour and that of the nation are unsullied.”* * London Gazette, May 30. 1692; Mdmoires do Saint Simon; Journal de Dangeau; Boyer’s History of William III. CHAP. XIX. itJ92. Lewis returns to Versailles. 88 HISTORY OR ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX . 1692 . Luxemburg. Though Lewis had quitted the Netherlands, the eyes of all Europe were still fixed on that region. The armies there had been strengthened by reinforcements drawn from many quarters. Every where else the military operations of the year were languid and without interest. The Grand Vizier and Lewis of Baden did little more than watch each other on the Danube. Marshal Noailles and the Duke of Medina Sidonia did little more than watch each other under the Pyrenees. On the Upper Rhine, and along the frontier which separates France from Piedmont, an indecisive predatory war was carried on, by which the soldiers suffered little and the cultivators of the soil much. But all men looked, with anxious expectation of some great event, to the frontier of Brabant, where William was opposed to Luxemburg. Luxemburg, now in his sixty-sixth year, had risen, by slow degrees, and by tlie deaths of several great men, to the first place among the generals of his time. He was of that noble house of Montmorency which united many mythical and many historical titles to glory, which boasted that it sprang from the first Frank who was baptized into the name of Christ in the fifth century, and which had, since the eleventh century, given to France a long and splendid succession of Constable's and Marshals. In valour and abilities Luxemburg was not inferior to any of his illustrious race. But, highly descended and highly gifted as he was, he had with difficulty surmounted the obstacles which impeded him in the road to fame. If he owed much to the bounty of nature and fortune, he had suffered still more from their spite. His features were frightfully harsh: his stature was diminutive: a huge and pointed hump rose on his back. His ponstitution was feeble and sickly. Cruel imputations had been thrown on his morals. lie had been accused of trafficking with sorcerers and with vendors of poison, had languished long in a dungeon, and had at length regained ■WILLIAM AND MART. 89 his liberty without entirely regaining his honour.*. He had always been disliked both by Louvois and by Lewis. Yet the war against the European coalition had lasted but a very short time when both the minister and the King felt that the general who was personally odious to them was necessary to the state. Conde and Turenne were no more; and Luxemburg was without dispute the first soldier that France still possessed. In vigilance, diligence and perseverance he was deficient. He seemed to reserve his great qualities for great emergencies. It was on a pitched field of battle that he was all himself. His glance w r as rapid and unerring. His judgment was clearest and surest when responsibility pressed heaviest on him and when difficulties gathered thickest around him. To his skill, energy and presence of mind his country owed some glorious days. But, though eminently successful in battles, he w-as not eminently successful in campaigns. He gained immense renown at William’s expense; and yet there was, as respected the objects of the war, little to choose between the two commanders. Luxemburg was repeatedly victorious: hut he had not the art of improving a victory. William was repeatedly defeated; but of all generals he was the best qualified to repair a defeat. In the month of July William’s headquarters were at Lam- beque. About six miles off, atSteinkirk, Luxemburg had encamped with the main body of his army; and about six miles further off lay a considerable force commanded by the * Mdraoires do Saint Simon; Voltaire, Sifecle de Louis XIV. Voltaire speaks with a contempt which is probably just of the account of this affair in the Causes Cdlfebres. See also the Letters of Madame de Sdvignd during the months of January and February 1680. In several English lampoons Luxemburg is nicknamed .^isop, from his deformity, and called a wizard, in allusion to his dealings with La Voisin. In one Jacobite allegory he is the necromancer Grandorsio. In Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary for June 1692 he is called a conjuror. I have seen two or three English caricatures of Luxemburg’s figure. CHAP. XIX. 169 ::. 90 nlSTOEY OF ENGLAND. Marquess, of Boufflers, one of the best officers in the service of Lewis. The country between Lambeque and Steinkirk was intersected by innumerable hedges and ditches; and neither army could approach the other without passing through several long and narrow defiles. Luxemburg had therefore little reason to apprehend that he should be attacked in his entrenchments; and he felt assured that he should have ample notice before any attack was made: for he had succeeded in corrupting an adventurer named Millevoix, who was chief musician and private secretary of the Elector of Bavaria. This man regularly sent to the French headquarters authentic information touching the designs of the allies. The Marshal, confident in the strength of his position and in the accuracy of his intelligence, lived in his tent as he was accustomed to live in his hotel at Paris. He was at once a valetudinarian and a voluptuary; and, in both characters, he loved his ease. He scarcely ever mounted His horse. Light conversation and cards occupied most of his hours. His table waa luxurious; and, when he had sate down to supper, it was a service of danger to disturb him. Some scoffers remarked that in his military dispositions he was not guided exclusively by military reasons, that he generally contrived to entrench himself in some place W'here the veal and the poultry were remarkably good, and that he was always solicitous to keep open such communications with the sea as might ensure him, from September to April, a regular supply of Sandwich oysters. If there were any agreeable -women in the neighbourhood of his camp, they were generally to be found at his banquets. It may easily be supposed that, under such a commander, the young princes and nobles of France vied with one another in splendour and gallantry.* * Mdmoires de Saint Simon; Mdmoires doVillars; Racine to Boileau, May 21. 1692, WILLIAM AND MART. 91 While he was amusing himself after his wonted fashion, the map. confederate princes discovered that their counsels were he- 1692 trayed. A peasant picked up a letter which had been dropped, nauie of and carried it to the Elector of Bavaria. It contained full proofs of the guilt of Millevoix. William conceived a hope that he might be able to take his enemies in the snare which they had laid for him. The perfidious secretary was summoned to the royal presence and taxed with his crime. A pen was put into his hand: a pistol was held to his breast; and he was commanded to write on pain of instant death. His letter, dictated by William, was conveyed to the French camp. It apprised Luxemburg that the allies meant to send out a strong foraging party on the next day. In order to protect this party from molestation, some battalions of infantry, accompanied by artillery, would march by night to occupy the defiles which lay between the armies. The Marshal read, believed and went to rest, while William urged forward the preparations for a general assault on the French lines. The whole allied army was under arms while it was still dark. In the grey of the morning Luxemburg was awakened by scouts, who brought tidings that the enemy was advancing in great force. He at first treated the news very lightly. His correspondent, it seemed, had been, as usual, diligent and exact. The Prince of Orange had sent out a detachment to protect his foragers, and this detachment had been magnified by fear into a great host. But one alarming report followed another fast. All the passes, it was said, were choked with multitudes of foot, horse and artillery, under the banners of England and of Spain, of the United Provinces and of the Empire; and every column was moving towards Steinkirk. At length the Marshal rose, got on horseback, and rode out to see what was doing. By this time the vanguard of the allies was close to his out- 92 niSTOKY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. HIM. posts. About half a mile in advance of his army was encamped^ a brigade named from the province of Bourbonnais. These troops had to bear the first brunt of the onset. Amazed and panicstricken, they were swept away in a moment, and ran for their lives, leaving them tents and seven pieces of cannon to the assailants. Thus far William’s plans had been completely successful: but now fortune began to turn against him. He had been misinformed as to the nature of the ground which lay between the station of the brigade of Bourbonnais and the main encampment of the enemy. He had expected that he should be able to push forward without a moment’s pause, that he should find the French army in a state of wild disorder, and that his victory W'ould be easy and complete. But his progress was obstructed by several fences and ditches: there was a short delay; and a short delay sufficed to frustrate his design. Luxemburg was the very man for such a conjuncture. He had committed great faults: he had kept careless guard: he had trusted implicitly to information which had proved false: he had neglected information which had proved true: one of his divisions w r as flying in confusion: the other divisions were unprepared for action. That crisis would have paralysed the faculties of an ordinary captain: it only braced and stimulated those of Luxemburg. His mind, nay his sickly and distorted body, seemed to derive health and vigour from disaster and dismay. In a short time he had disposed every thing. The French army w-as in battle order. Conspicuous in that great array were the household troops of Lewis, the most renowmed body of fighting men in Europe; and at their head appeared, glittering in lace and embroidery hastily thrown on and half fastened, a crowd of young princes and lords who had just been roused by the trumpet from their couches or their revels, and who had hastened to look death in the face with the gay and festive intrepidity characteristic of French WILLIAM AND MABY. 93 gentlemen. Highest in rank among these highborn warriors was a lad of sixteen, Philip Duke of Chartres, son of the Duke - of Orleans, and nephew of the King of France. It was with difficulty and by importunate solicitation that the gallant boy had extorted Luxemburg’s permission to be where the fire was hottest. Two other youths of royal blood, Lewis Duke of Bourbon, and Armand Prince of Conti, showed a spirit worthy of their descent. With them was a descendant of one of the bastards of Henry the Fourth, Lewis Duke of Vendome, a man sunk in indolence and in the foulest vice, yet capable of exhibiting on a great occasion the qualities of a great soldier. Berwick, who was beginning to earn for himself an honourable name in arms, was there; and at his side rode Sarsfield, whose courage and ability earned, on that day, the esteem of the whole French army. Meanwhile Luxemburg had sent off a pressing message to summon Boufflers. But the message was needless. Boufflers had heard the firing, and, like a brave and intelligent captain, was already hastening towards the point from which the sound came. Though the assailants had lost all the advantage which belongs to a surprise, they came on manfully. In the front of the battle were the British commanded by Count Solmes. The division which was to lead the way was Mackay’s. He was to have been supported, according to William’s plan, by a strong body of foot and horse. Though most of Mackay’s men had never before been under fire, their behaviour gave promise of Blenheim and Ramilies. They first encountered the Swiss, who held a distinguished place in the French army. The fight was so close and desperate that the muzzles of the muskets crossed. The Swiss were driven back with fearful slaughter. More than eighteen hundred of them appear from the French returns to have been killed or wounded. Luxemburg afterwards said that he had never in his life seen so furious a struggle. He collected CHAP. XIX. ICS2. 94 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CIUP. XIX. 1692 . in haste the opinion of the generals who surrounded him. All thought that the emergency xvas one which could be met by no common means. The King’s household must charge the English. The Marshal gave the word; and the household, headed by the princes of the blood, came on, flinging their muskets back on their shoulders. “ Sw'ord in hand,” was the cry through all the ranks of that terrible brigade: “sword in hand. No firing. Do it with the cold steel.” After a long and desperate resistance the English were borne down. They never ceased to repeat that, if Solmes had done his duty by them, they would have beaten even the household. But Solmes gave them no effective support. He pushed forward some cavalry which, from the nature of the ground, could do little or nothing. His infantry he would not suffer to stir. They could do no good, he said, and he would not send them to be slaughtered. Ormond was eager to hasten to the assistance of his countrymen, but was not permitted. Mackay sent a pressing message to represent that he and his men were left to certain destruction: but all was vain. “ God’s will be done,” said the brave veteran. He died as he had lived, like a good Christian and a good soldier. With him fell Douglas and Lanier, two generals distinguished among the conquerors of Ireland. Mountjoy too was among the slain. After languishing three years in the Bastile,he had just been exchanged for Richard Hamilton, and, having been converted to Whiggism by wrongs more powerful than all the arguments of Locke and Sidney, had instantly hastened to join William’s camp as a volunteer. * Five fine regiments were entirely cut to pieces. No part of this devoted band would have escaped but for the courage and conduct of Auverquerque, who came to the rescue in the moment of extremity with two fresh battalions. The gallant manner in which he brought off the remains of Mackay’s division W’as long remembered with grateful admira- * Narcissus Luttrell, April 28. 1692. WILLIAM AND MANY. 95 tion by the British camp fires. The ground, where the conflict had raged was piled with corpses; and those who buried the- slain remarked that almost all the wounds had been given in close fighting by the sword or the bayonet. It was said that William so far forgot his wonted stoicism as to utter a passionate exclamation at the way in which theEnglish regiments had been sacrificed. Soon, however, he recovered his equanimity, and determined to fall back. It was high time: for the French army was every moment becoming stronger, as the regiments commanded by Boufflers came up in rapid succession. The allied army returned to Lambeque unpursued and in unbroken order.* The French owned that they had about seven thousand men killed and wounded. The loss of the allies had been little, if * London Gazette, Aug. 4. 8. 11. 1692; Gazette do Paris, Aug. 9. 16.; Voltaire, Sifecle de Louis XIV.; Burnet, ii. 97.; Mdmoires de Berwick; Dykvelt’s Letter to the States General dated August 4. 1692. See also the very interesting debate which took place in the House of Commons on Nov. 21. 1692. An English translation of Luxemburg’s very elaborate and artful despatch will be found in the Monthly Mercury for September 1692. The original has recently been printed in the new edition of Dangcau. Lewis pronounced it the best despatch that he had ever seen. The editor of the Monthly Mercury maintains that it was manufactured at Paris. “To think otherwise,” he says, “is mere folly; as if Luxemburg could be at so much leisure to write such a long letter, more like a pedant than a general, or rather the monitor of a school, giving an account to his master how the rest of the boys behaved themselves.” In the Monthly Mercury will bo found also the French official list of killed and wounded. Of all the accounts of the battle that which seems to me the best is in the Memoirs of Feuquibres. It is illustrated by a map. Feuquifcres divides his praise and blame very fairly between the generals. The traditions of the English mess tables have been preserved by Sterne, who was brought up at the knees of old soldiers of William. “‘There was Cutis’s,’ continued the Corporal, clapping the forefinger of his right hand upon the thumb of his left, and counting round his hand; ‘there was Cutts’s, Mackay’s, Angus’s, Graham's and Levon’s, all cut to pieces; and so had the English Lifeguards too, had it not been for some regiments on the right, who marched up boldly to their relief, and received the enemy’s fire in their faces, before any one of their own platoons discharged a musket. They’ll go to heaven for it,’ added Trim.” CHAP XIX. 1692. 96 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. . at all, greater. Tlie relative strength of the armies was what it had been on the preceding day; and they continued to occupy their old positions. But the moral effect of the battle was great. The splendour of William’s fame grew pale. Even his admirers were forced to own that, in the field, he was not a match for Luxemburg. In France the news was received with transports of joy and pride. The Court, the Capital, even the peasantry of the remotest provinces, gloried in the impetuous valour which had been displayed by so many youths, the heirs of illustrious names. It was exultingly and fondly repeated all over the kingdom that the young Duke of Chartres could not by any remonstrances be kept out of danger, that a ball had passed through his coat, that he had been wounded in the shoulder. The people lined the roads to see the princes and nobles who returned from Steinkirk. The jewellers devised Steinkirk buckles: the perfumers sold Steinkirk powder. But the name of the field of battle was peculiarly given to a new species of collar. Lace neckcloths were then worn hymen of fashion; and it had been usual to arrange them with great care. But at the terrible moment w'hen the brigade of Bourbonnais W'as flying before the onset of the allies, there was no time for foppery; and the finest gentlemen of the Court came spurring to the front of the line of battle with their rich cravats in disorder. It therefore became a fashion among the beauties of Paris to wear round their necks kerchiefs of the finest lace studiously disarranged; and these kerchiefs were called Steinkirks.* In the camp of the allies all was disunion and discontent. National jealousies and animosities raged without restraint or disguise. The resentment of the English was loudly expressed. Solmes, though he was said by those who knew him well to have some valuable qualities, was not a man likely to conciliate soldiers who were prejudiced against him as a foreigner. His de- * Voltaire, Sitelo de Louis XIV. WHIIAM AND MANS'. 97 meanour was arrogant, his temper ungovernable. Even before chap. the unfortunate day of Steinkirk the English officers did not ■ x,x ' - willingly communicate with him, and the private men murmured at his harshness. But after the battle the outcry against him became furious. He was accused, perhaps unjustly, of having said with unfeeling levity, while the English regiments were contending desperately against great odds,, that he was curious to see how the bulldogs would come off. Would anybody, it was asked, now pretend that it was on account of his superior skill and experience that he had been put over the heads of so many English officers? It was the fashion to say that those officers had never seen war on a large scale. But surely the merest novice was competent to do all that Solmes had done, to misunderstand orders, to send cavalry on duty which none but infantry could perform, and to look on at safe distance while brave men were cut to pieces. It was too much to be at once insulted and sacrificed, excluded from the honours of war, yet pushed on all its extreme dangers, sneered at as raw recruits, and then left to cope unsupported with the finest body of veterans in the world. Such were the complaints of the English . army; and they Were echoed by the English nation. Fortunately about this time a discovery was made which furnished both the camp at Lambeque and the coffeehouses of London -with a subject of conversation much less agreeable to the Jacobites than the disaster of Steinkirk. A plot against the life of William had been, during some conspi- months, maturing in the French War Office. It should seem Grambal. that Louvois had originally sketched the design, and had bequeathed it, still rude, to his son and successor Barbesieux. By Barbesieux the plan was perfected. The execution was entrusted to an officer named Grandval. Grandval was undoubtedly brave, and full of zeal for his country and his religion. He was indeed flighty and half witted, but not on that account tlacauiay, History. VII. 7 98 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. xix. 16927 " the less dangerous. Indeed a flighty and half witted man is the very instrument generally preferred by cunning politicians when very hazardous work is to be done. No shrewd calculator would, for any bribe, however enormous, have exposed himself to the fate of Chatel, of Ravaillac, or of Gerarts.* Grandval secured, as he conceived, the assistance of two adventurers, Dumont, a "Walloon, andLeefdale, a Dutchman. In April, soon after William had arrived in the Low Countries, the murderers were directed to repair to their post. Dumont was then in Westphalia. Grandval and Leefdale were at Paris. Uden in North Brabant was fixed as the place where the three were to meet and whence they were to proceed together to the headquarters of the allies. Before Grandval left Paris he paid a visit to Saint Germains, and was presented to James and to Mary of Modena. “I have been informed,” said James, “of the business. If you and your companions do me this service, you shall never want.” After this audience Grandval set out on his journey. He had not the faintest suspicion that he had been betrayed both by the accomplice who accompanied him and by the accomplice xvhom he xvas going to meet. Dumont and Leefdale xvere not enthusiasts. They cared nothing for the restoration of James, the grandeur of Lewis, or the ascendency of the Church of Pome. It was plain to every man of common sense that, whether the design succeeded or failed, the reward of the assassins would probably be to he disowned, with affected abhorrence, by the Courts of Versailles and Saint Germains, and to be torn with redhot pincers, smeared with melted lead, and dismembered by four horses. To vulgar natures the prospect of such a martyrdom was not alluring. Both these men, therefore, had, almost at the same time, though, as far as appears, without * Langhorne, the chief lay agent of the Jesuits in England, always, as he owned to Tillotson, selected tools on this principle. Burnet, i. 230. WILLIAM AND MANY. 99 any concert, conveyed to William, through different channels, warnings that his life was in danger. Dumont had acknowledged ■ every thing to the Duke of Zell, one of the confederate princes. Leefdale had transmitted full intelligence through his relations who resided in Holland. Meanwhile Morel, a Swiss Protestant of great learning who was then in France, wrote to inform Burnet that the weak and hotheaded Grandval had been heard to talk boastfully of the event which -would soon astonish the world, and had confidently predicted that the Prince of Orange would not live to the end of the next month. These cautions were not neglected. From the moment at which Grandval entered the Netherlands, his steps were among snares. His movements were watched: his words -were noted: he was arrested, examined, confronted with his accomplices, and sent to the camp of the allies. About a week after the battle of Steinkirk he was brought before a Court Martial. Ginkell, who had been rewarded for his great services inlrelandwith the title of Earl of Athlone, presided; and Talmash was among the judges. Mackay and Lanier had been named members of the board: but they were no more; and their places were filled by younger officers. The duty of the Court Martial was very simple: for the prisoner attempted no defence. His conscience had, it should seem, been suddenly awakened. Fie admitted, with expressions of remorse, the truth of all the charges, made a minute, and apparently an ingenuous, confession, and owned that he had deserved death. He was sentenced to be hanged, drawn and quartered, and underwent his punishment with great fortitude and with a show of piety. He left behind him a few lines, in which he declared that he was about to lose his life for having too faithfully obeyed the injunctions of Barbesieux. His confession was immediately published in several languages, and was read with very various and very strong 7 * CHAP. xix . 'i69a. 100 HISTOBY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. 1631 . emotions. That it was genuine could not be doubted: for it was wai-rauted by the signatures of some of the most distinguished military men living. That it was prompted by the hope of pardon could hardly be supposed: for William had taken pains to discourage that hope. Still less could it be supposed that the prisoner had uttered untruths in order to avoid the torture. For, though it was the universal practice in the Netherlands to put convicted assassins to the rack in order to wring out from them the names of their employers and associates, William had given orders that, on this occasion, the rack should not be used or even named. It should be added, that the Court did not interrogate the prisoner closely, but suffered him to tell his (story in his own way. It is therefore reasonable to believe that his narrative is substantially true; and no part of it has a stronger air of truth than his account of the audience with which James had honoured him at Saint Germains. In our island the sensation produced by the news was great. The Whigs loudly called both James and Lewis assassins. How, it was asked, was it possible, without outraging common sense, to put an innocent meaning on the words which Grandval declared that he had heard from the lips of the banished King of England? And who that knew the Court of Versailles would believe that Barbesieux, a youth, a mere novice in politics, and rather a clerk than a minister, would have dared to do what he had done without taking his master’s pleasure? Very charitable and very ignorant persons might perhaps indulge a hope that Lewis had not been an accessory before the fact. But that he was an accessory after the fact no human being could doubt. He must have seen the proceedings of the Court Martial, the evidence, the confession. If he really abhorred assassination as honest men abhor it, would not Barbesieux have been driven with ignominy from the royal presence, and TTOUAM AND MAEY. 101 flung into the Bastile? Yet Barbesieux was still at the War chap. Office; and it was not pretended that he had been punished ■■ even by a word or a frown. It was plain, then,. that both Kings were partakers in the guilt of Grandval. And if it were asked how two princes who made a high profession of religion could have fallen into such wickedness, the answer was that they had learned their religion from the Jesuits. In reply to these reproaches the English Jacobites said very little; and the French government said nothing at all.* The campaign in the Netherlands ended without any other Return of event deserving to be recorded. On the eighteenth of October to Eng- William arrived in England. Late in the evening of the lanli ' twentieth he reached Kensington, having traversed the whole length of the capital. His reception was cordial. The crowd was great; the acclamations were loud; and all the windows along his route, from Aldgate to Piccadilly, were lighted up.** But, notwithstanding these favourable symptoms, the Nava] nation was disappointed and discontented. The war had been unsuccessful by land. By sea a great advantage had been tion - gained, but had not been improved. The general expectation had been that the victory of May would be followed by a descent on the coast of France, that Saint Maloes would be bombarded, that the last remains of Tourville’s squadron would be destroyed, and that the arsenals of Brest and Rochefort would be laid in ruins. This expectation was, no doubt, un- * I have taken the history of Grandval’s plot chiefly from Grandval’s own confession. I have not mentioned Madame de Maintenon, because Grandval, in his confession, did not mention her. The accusation brought against her rests solely on the authority of Dumont. See also a True Account of the horrid Conspiracy against the Life of Ilia most Sacred Majesty William III. 1692; Reflections upon the late horrid Conspiracy contrived by some of the French Court to murder His Majesty in Flanders, 1692; Burnet, ii. 92.; Vernon’s letters from the camp to Colt, published by Tindal; the London Gazette, Aug. 11. The Paris Gazette contains not one word on the subject, — a most significant silence. ** London Gazette, Oct. 20. 24. 1692. 102 HISTORY OP ENGIAHD. CHAP. XIX. 1692 . reasonable. It did not follow, because Hooke and bis seamen • had silenced the batteries hastily thrown up by Bellefonds, that it would he safe to expose ships to the fire of regular fortresses. The government, however, was not less sanguine than the nation. Great preparations were made. The allied fleet, having been speedily refitted at Portsmouth, stood out again to sea. llooke was sent to examine the soundings and the currents along the shore of Britanny.* Transports were collected at Saint Helens. Fourteen thousand troops were assembled on Portsdown under the command of Meinhart Schomberg, who had been rewarded for his father’s services and his own with the highest rank in the Irish peerage, and was now Duke of Leinster. Under him were Euvigny, who, for his good service at Aghrim, had been created Earl of Galway, La Melloniere and Cambon with their gallant bands of refugees, and Argyle with the regiment which bore his name, and which, as it began to be rumoured, had last winter done something strange and horrible in a wild country of rocks and snow, never yet explored by any Englishman. On the twenty-sixth of July the troops were all on board. The transports sailed, and in a few hours joined the naval armament in the neighbourhood of Portland. On the twenty-eighth a general council of war was held. All the naval commanders, with Russell at their head, declared that it would be madness to carry their ships within the range of the guns of Saint Maloes, and that the town must be reduced to straits by land before the men- of war in the harbour could, with any chance of success, be attacked from the sea. The military men declared with equal unanimity that the land forces could effect nothing against the town without the cooperation of the fleet. It was then considered whether it would be advisable to make an attempt on Brest or Rochefort. Russell and the other flag * See his report in Burchett. william and mart. 103 officers, among whom were Hooke, Shovel, Almonde and Evertsen, pronounced that the summer was too far spent for- either enterprise.* We must suppose that an opinion in which so many distinguished admirals, both English and Dutch, concurred, however strange it may seem to us, was in conformity with what were then the established principles of the art of maritime war. But why all these questions could not have been fully discussed a week earlier, why fourteen thousand troops should have been shipped and sent to sea, before it had been considered what they were to do, or whether it would be possible for them to do anything, we may reasonably wonder. The armament returned to Saint Helens, to the astonishment and disgust of the whole nation.** The ministers blamed the commanders: the commanders blamed the ministers. The recriminations exchanged between Nottingham and Russell were loud and angry. Nottingham, honest, industrious, versed in civil business, and eloquent in parliamentary debate, was deficient in the qualities of a war minister, and was not at all aware of his deficiencies. Between him and the whole body of professional sailors there was a feud of long standing. He had, some time before the Revolution, been a Lord of the Admiralty; and his own opinion was that he had then acquired a profound knowledge of maritime affairs. This opinion however he had very much to himself. Men who had passed half their lives on the waves, and who had been in battles, storms and shipwrecks, were impatient of his somewhat pompous lectures and reprimands, and pronounced him a mere pedant, who, with all his book learning, was ignorant of wdiat every cabin boy knew. Russell had always been froward, arrogant * London Gazette, July 28. 1692. See the resolutions of the Council of War in Burchett. In a letter to Nottingham, dated July 10., Russell says, “Six weeks will near conclude what we call summer.” Lords’Journals, Dee. 19. 1692. ** Monthly Mercury, Aug. and Sept. 1692. CHAP. XIX. 1G92. 104 CHAP. XIX. HISTORY OF ENGLAND. and mutinous; and now prosperity and glory brought out his •vices in full strength. AVith the government which he had saved he took all the liberties of an insolent- servant who believes himself to be necessary, treated the orders of his superiors with contemptuous levity, resented reproof, however gentle, as an outrage, furnished no plan of his own, and showed a sullen determination to execute no plan furnished by any body else. To Nottingham he had a strong and a very natural antipathy. They were indeed an ill matched pair. Nottingham was a Tory: Russell was a AAHiig. Nottingham was a speculative seaman, confident in his theories: Russell was a practical seaman, proud of his achievements. The strength of Nottingham lay in speech: the strength of Russell lay in action. Nottingham’s demeanour was decorous even to formality: Russell was passionate and rude. Lastly Nottingham was an honest man; and Russell was a villain. They now became mortal enemies. The Admiral sneered at the Secretary’s ignorance of naval affairs: the Secretary accused the Admiral of sacrificing the public interests to mere wayward humour; and both w r ere in the right.* AATiile they were wrangling, the merchants of all the ports in the kingdom raised a cry against the naval administration. The victory of which the nation was so proud was, in the City, pronounced to have been a positive disaster. During some months before the battle all the maritime strength of the enemy had been collected in two great masses, one in the Mediterranean and one in the Atlantic. There had consequently been little privateering; and the voyage to New England or Jamaica had been almost as safe as in time of peace. Since the battle, * Evelyn’s Diary, July 25. 1G92; Burnet, ii. 94, 95., and Lord Dart- mouth’s Note. The history of the quarrel between Kussell and Nottingham ■will be best learned from the Parliamentary Journals and Debates of the Session of IC9|. WILLIAM AXD MAET. 105 the remains of the force which had lately been collected under Tourville were dispersed over the ocean. Even the passage from England to Ireland was insecure. Every week it w'as announced that tw'enty, thirty, fifty vessels belonging to London or Bristol had been taken by the French. More than a hundred prizes W'ere carried during that autumn into Saint Maloos alone. It would have been far better, in the opinion of the shipowners and of the underwriters, that the Royal Sun had still been afloat with her thousand fighting men on board than that she should bo lying a heap of ashes on the beach at Cher- burg, while her crew, distributed among twenty brigantines, prowled for booty over the sea between Cape Finisterre and Cape Clear.* The 'privateers of Dunkirk had long been celebrated; and among them, John Bart, humbly horn, and scarcely able to sign his name, but eminently brave and active, had attained an undisputed preeminence. In the country of Anson and Ilawke, of Howe and Rodney, of Duncan, Saint Vincent and Nelson, the name of the most daring and skilful corsair would have f little chance of being remembered. But France, among whose many unquestioned titles to glory very few are derived from naval war, still ranks Bart among her great men. In the autumn of 1692 this enterprising freebooter was the terror of all the English and Dutch merchants who traded with the Baltic. He took and destroyed vessels close to the eastern coast of our island. He even ventured to land in Northumberland, and burned many houses before the trainbands could be collected to oppose him. The prizes which he carried hack into his native port were estimated at about a hundred thousand pounds * Commons’Journals, Nov. ID. 1692; Burnet, ii. 95.; Grey’s Debates, Nov. 21. 1692; Paris Gazettes of August and September; Narcissus Luttrell’a Diary, Sept. CHAP. XIX. CHAP. XIX. 1GD2. Earthquake at Port Royal. Distress in Eug- laml. 10G HISTORY OB' BKGIAKD. sterling. * About the same time a younger adventurer, destined to equal or surpass Bart, Du GuayTrouin, was entrusted with the command of a small armed vessel. The intrepid boy, — for he was not yet twenty years old, — entered the estuary of the Shannon, sacked a mansion in the county of Clare, and did notreimbark till a detachment from the garrison of Limerick marched against him. ** While our trade was interrupted and our shores menaced by these rovers, some calamities which no human prudence could have averted increased the public ill humour. An earthquake of terrible violence laid waste in less than three minutes the flourishing colony of Jamaica. Whole plantations changed their place. Whole villages were swallowed up. Port Royal, the fairest and wealthiest city which the English had yet built in the New World, renowned for its quays, for its warehouses, and for its stately streets, which were said to rival Cheapside, was turned into a mass of ruins. Fifteen hundred of the inhabitants were buried under their own dwellings. The effect of this disaster was severely felt by many of the great mercantile houses of London and Bristol.*** A still heavier calamity was the failure of the harvest. The summer had been wet all over Western Europe. Those heavy rains which had impeded the exertions of the French pioneers in the trenches of Namur had been fatal to the crops. Old men remembered no such year since 1648. No fruit ripened. The price of the quarter of wheat doubled. The evil was aggravated by the state of the silver coin, which had been clipped to such * See Bart’s Letters qf Nobility, and the Paris Gazettes of the autumn of 1692. ** M^moires de Du Guay Trouin. *** London Gazette, Aug. 11. 1692; Evelyn’s Diary, Aug. 10.; Monthly Mercury for September; A Full Account of the late dreadful Earthquake at Port Royal in Jamaica, licensed Sept. 9. 1092. •• •WHLIAM AND MAltY. 107 an extent that the words pound and shilling had ceased to have a fixed meaning. Compared with France indeed England might well be esteemed prosperous. Here the public burdens were heavy: there they were crushing. Here the labouring man was forced to husband his coarse barley loaf: but there it not seldom happened that the wretched peasant was found dead on the earth with halfchewed grass in his mouth. Our ancestors found some consolation in thinking that they were gradually wearing out the strength of their formidable enemy, and that his resources were likely to be drained sooner than theirs. Still there was much suffering and much repining. In some counties mobs attacked the granaries. The necessity of retrenchment was felt by families of every rank. An idle man of wit and pleasure, who little thought that his buffoonery would ever be cited to illustrate the history of his times, complained that, in this year, wine ceased to be put on many hospitable tables where he had been accustomed to see it, and that its place was supplied by punch.* A symptom of public distress much more alarming than the substitution of brandy and lemons for claret was the increase of crime. During the autumn of 1692 and the following winter, the capital was kept in constant terror by housebreakers. One gang, thirteen strong, entered the mansion of the Duke of Ormond in Saint James’s Square, and all but succeeded in carrying off his magnificent plate and jewels. Another gang made an attempt on Lambeth Palace.** When stately abodes, guarded by numerous servants, were in such danger, it may easily be believed that no shopkeeper’s till or stock could be safe. From Bow to Hyde Park, from Thames * Evelyn’s Diary, June 25. Oct. 1. 1G90; Narcissus LuttrelPs Diary, June 1692, May 1693; Monthly Mercury, April, May, and June 1693; Tom Brown’s Description of a Country Life, 1692. ** Narcissus Luttrcll's Diary, Nov. 1692. CHAP. XIX. T£i2. Increase of crime 108 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. 1 ( 192 . Street to Bloomsbury, there was no parish in which some quiet ■dwelling had not been sacked by burglars.* Meanwhile the great roads were made almost impassable by freebooters who formed themselves into troops larger than had before been known. There was a sworn fraternity of twenty footpads which met at an alehouse in Southwark.** But the most formidable band of plunderers consisted of two and twenty horsemen.*** It should seem that, at this time, a journey of fifty miles through the wealthiest and most populous shires of England was as dangerous as a pilgrimage across the deserts of Arabia. The Oxford stage coach was pillaged in broad day after a bloody fight, f A waggon laden with fifteen thousand pounds of public money was stopped and ransacked. As this operation took some time, all the travellers who came to the spot while the thieves were busy were seized and guarded. When the booty had been secured the prisoners were suffered to depart on foot; but their horses, sixteen or eighteen in number, were shot or hamstringed, to prevent pursuit, ff The Portsmouth mail was robbed twice in one week by men well armed and mounted.fff Some jovial Essex squires, while riding after a hare, were themselves chased and run down by nine hunters of a different sort, and were heartily glad to find themselves at home again, though with empty pockets. § The friends of the government asserted that the marauders were all Jacobites; and indeed there were some appearances which gave colour to the assertion. For example, fifteen * See, for example, the London Gazette of Jan. 12. 1693. ** Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary, Dec. 1692. *** Ibid. Jan. 1693. + Ibid. July 1692. •ff Evelyn’s Diary, Nov. 20. 1692; Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary; London Gazette, Nov. 24.: llop to the Greffier of the States General, Nov. ff-j- London Gazette, Dec. 19. 1692. § Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary, Dec. 1692. ■WILIIAM AJTD HUE'S. 109 butchers, going on a market day to buy beasts at Thame, were stopped by a large gang, and compelled first to deliver their- moneybags, and then to drink King James’s health in brandy.* The thieves, however, to do them justice, showed, in the exercise of their calling, no decided preference for any political party. Some of them fell in with Marlborough near Saint Albans, and, notwithstanding his known hostility to the Court and his recent imprisonment, compelled him to deliver up five hundred guineas, which he doubtless never ceased to regret to the last moment of his long career of prosperity and glory.** When William, on his return from the Continent, learned to what an extent these .outrages were carried, he expressed great indignation, and announced his resolution to put down the malefactors with a strong hand. A veteran robber was induced to turn informer, and to lay before the King a list of the chief highwaymen, and a full account of their habits and of their favourite haunts. It was said that this list contained not less than eighty names.***’ Strong parties of cavalry were sent out to protect the roads; and this precaution, which ( would, in ordinary circumstances, have excited much murmuring, seems to have been generally approved. A fine regiment, now called the Second Dragoon Guards, which had distinguished itself in Ireland by activity and success in the irregular war against the Kapparees, was selected to guard several of the great avenues of the capital. Blackheath, Barnet, Hounslow, became places of arms.f In a few weeks the roads were as safe as usual. The * Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary, Nov. 1692. ** Ibid. August 1692. *** Hop to the Greffier of the States General, j—-— 369|. The Dutch despatches of this year are filled with stories of robberies. f Hop to the Greffier of the States General, 169|; Historical Records of the Queen’s Bays, published by authority; Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary, Nov. 15. CHAP. XIX. 1U92. 110 niSTORX OP ENGLAND. CHAP. X IX. - JGU2. executions were numerous: for, till the evil had been sup- . pressed, the King resolutely refused to listen to any solicitations for mercy.* Among those who suffered was James Whitney, the most celebrated captain of banditti in the kingdom. He had been, during some months, the terror of all -who travelled from London either northward or westward, and ,was at length with difficulty secured after a desperate conflict in which one soldier was killed and several wounded.** The London Gazette announced that the famous highwayman had been taken, and invited all persons who had been robbed by him to repair to Newgate and to see whether they could identify him. To identify him should have been easy: for he had a wound in the face, and had lost a thumb.*** He, however, in the hope of perplexing the witnesses for the Crown, expended a hundred pounds in procuring a sumptuous embroidered suit against the day of trial. This ingenious device was frustrated by his hardhearted keepers. He was put to the bar in his ordinary clothes, convicted and sentenced to death.f He had previously tried to ransom himself by offering to raise a fine troop of cavalry, all highwaymen, for service in Flanders: but his offer had been rejected.j-f He had one resource still left. He declared that he -was privy to a treasonable plot. Some Jacobite lords had promised him immense rewards if he would, at the head of his gang, fall-upon the King at a stag hunt in Windsor Forest. There was nothing intrinsically improbable in Whitney’s story.. Indeed a design very similar to that which he imputed to the malecontents was, only three years later, actually formed by some of them, and was all but carried into execution. But it * Narcissus Luttrell's Diary, Dec. 22. ** Ibid. Dec. 1692; Hop, Jan. ^ 3 . Hop calls Whitney, “ den befaamsten roover in Eiigelandt." *** London Gazette, January 2. 169}. •j- Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary, Jan. 169}. •H* Ibid. Dec. 1692. WILLIAM AND MAHY. Ill was far better that a few bad men should go unpunished than chap. that all honest men should live in fear of being falsely accused * - by felons sentenced to the gallows. Chief Justice Holt advised the King to let the law take its course. William, never much inclined to give credit to stories about conspiracies, assented. The Captain, as he was called, was hanged inSmithfield, and made a most penitent end.* Meanwhile, in the midst of discontent, distress and disorder, Meeting had begun a session of Parliament singularly eventful, a session ment. from which dates a new era in the history of English finance, a session in which some grave constitutional questions, not yet entirely set at rest, were for the first time debated. It is much to be lamented that any account of this session Sl>le °f * parties. which can be framed out of the scanty and dispersed materials now accessible must leave many things obscure. The relations of the parliamentary factions were, during this year, in a singularly complicated state. Each of the two Houses was divided and subdivided by several lines. To omit minor distinctions, there was the great line which separated the Whig party from the Tory party; and there was the great line which separated the official men and then' friends and dependents, who were sometimes called the Court party, from those who were sometimes nicknamed the Grumbletonians and sometimes honoured with the appellation of the Country party. And these two great lines were intersecting lines. For of the servants of the Crown and of their adherents about one half were Whigs and one half Tories. It is also to be remembered that there was, quite distinct from the feud between Whigs and Tories, quite distinct also from the feud between those who were in and those who were out, a feud between the Lords as Lords and the * Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary, January and February; Hop, ' Tan ‘ e l«eb. jo. and Feb. j 3 j. 1693; Letter to Secretary Trenchard, 1694; New Court Contrivances or more Sham Plots still, 1693, CHAP. XIX. leoa. The ‘ King’s speech. Question of pri^ ■vilege raised by thcLords, 112 H3ST0ET OF ENGLAND. Commons as Commons. The spirit both of the hereditary and. of the elective chamber had been thoroughly roused in the preceding session by the dispute about the Court of the Lord High Steward; and they met in a pugnacious mood. The speech which the King made at the opening of the session was skilfully framed for the purpose of conciliating the Houses.. He came, he told them, to ask for their advice and assistance. He congratulated them on the victory of La Hogue. He acknowledged with much concern that the operations of the allies had been, less successful by land than by sea; but he warmly declared that, both by land and by sea, the valour of his English subjects had been preeminently conspicuous. The distress of his people, he said, was his own: his interest was inseparable from theirs: it was painful to him to call on them to make sacrifices: but from sacrifices which were necessary to the safety of the English nation and of the Protestant religion no good Englishman and no good Protestant would shrink.* The Commons thanked the King in cordial terms for his gracious speech.** But the Lords were in a.bad humour. Two of their body, Marlborough and Huntingdon, had, during the recess, when an invasion and an insurrection were hourly expected, been sent to the Tower, and were still under recognisances. Had a country gentleman or a merchant been taken up and held to bail on even slighter grounds at so alarming a crisis, the Lords would assuredly not have interfered. But they were easily moved to anger by any thing that looked like an indignity offered to their own order. They not only crossexamined with great severity Aaron Smith, the Solicitor of the Treasury, whose character, to say the truth, entitled him to little indulgence, but passed, by thirty five votes to * Lords’ and Commons’ Journals, Nov. 4., Jan. 1692. ** Commons’ Journals, Nov. 10.1692. 'WHUAM AND MAEY. 113 twenty eight, a resolution implying a censure on the Judges of chap. the King’s Bench, men certainly not inferior in probity, and - very far superior in legal learning, to any peer of the realm. The King thought it prudent to sooth the wounded pride of the nobility by ordering the recognisances to be cancelled; and with this concession the House was satisfied, to the great vexation of the Jacobites, who had hoped that the quarrel would be prosecuted to some fatal issue, and who, finding themselves disappointed, vented their spleen by railing at the tameness of the degenerate barons of England.* Both Houses held long and earnest deliberations on the Debates state of the nation. The King, when he requested their ad- state of vice, had, perhaps, not foreseen that his words would be con- strued into an invitation to scrutinise every part of the administration, and to offer suggestions touching matters w'hich parliaments have generally thought it expedient to leave entirely to the Crown. Some of the discontented peers proposed that a Committee, chosen partly by the Lords and partly by the Commons, should be authorised to inquire into the whole management of public affairs. But it was generally apprehended that such a Committee would become a second and more powerful Privy Council, independent of the Crown, and unknown to the Constitution. The motion was therefore rejected by forty eight votes to thirty six. On this occasion the ministers, with scarcely an exception, voted in the majority. A protest was signed by eighteen of the minority, among whom were the bitterest Whigs and the bitterest Tories in the whole peerage.** * See the Lords’ Journals from Nov. 7. to Nov. 18. 1692; Burnet, ii. 102. Tindal’s account of these proceedings was taken from letters addressed by Warre, Under Secretary of State, to Colt, envoy at Hanover, Letter to Mr. Secretary,Trenchard, 1694. ** Lords’ journals, Dec. 7.; Tindal, from the Colt Papers; Burnet, il. 105. Macaulay, History. VII . 8 114 HISTORY OY EUGLAHD.' chap. The Houses inquired, each for itself, into the causes of the x ‘ x ' public calamities. The Commons resolved themselves into a 1692 . x Grand Committee to consider of the advice to be given to the King. From the concise abstracts and fragments which have come down to us it seems that, in this Committee, which continued to sit many days, the debates wandered over a vast space. One member spoke of the prevalence of highway robbery: another deplored the quarrel between the Queen and the Princess, and proposed that two or three gentlemen should be deputed to wait on Her Majesty and try to make matters up. A third described the machinations of the Jacobites in the preceding spring. It was notorious, he said, that preparations had been made for a rising, and that arms and horses had been collected; yet not a single traitor had been brought to justice.* The events of the war by land and sea furnished matter for several earnest debates. Many members complained of the preference given to aliens over Englishmen. The whole battle of Steinkirk was fought over again; and severe reflections were thrown on Solmes. “Let English soldiers be commanded by none but English generals,” was the almost universal cry. Seymour, who had once been distinguished by his hatred of the foreigners, but who, since he had been at the Board of Treasury, had reconsidered his opinions, asked where English generals were'to be found. “I have no love for foreigners as foreigners: but we have no choice. Men are not born generals: nay, a man may be a very valuable captain or major, and not be equal to the conduct of an army. Nothing but experience will form great commanders. Very few of our countrymen have that experience; and therefore we must for the present employ strangers.” Lowther followed on the same side. “We have had a long peace; and the consequence is that we * Grey’s Debates, Nov. 21. and 23. 1692. WILLIAM AND JTADT. 115 have not a sufficient supply of officers fit for high commands’. The parks and the camp at Hounslow were very poor military schools, when compared with the fields of battle and the lines of contravallation in which the great commanders of the continental nations have learned their art.” In reply to these arguments an orator on the other side was so absurd as to declare that he could point out ten Englishmen who, if they were in the French service, would he made Marshals. Four or five colonels who had been at Steinkirk took part in the debate. It was said of them that they showed as much modesty in speech as they had shown courage in action; and, from the very imperfect report which has come down to us, the compliment seems to have been not undeserved. They did not join in the vulgar cry against the Dutch. They spoke well of the foreign officers generally, and did full justice to the valour and conduct with which Auverquerque had rescued the shattered remains of Mackay’s division from what seemed certain destruction. But in defence of Solmes not a word was said. His severity, his haughty manners, and, above all, the indifference with which he had looked on while the English, home down by overwhelming numbers, were fighting hand to hand with the French household troops, had made him so odious that many members were prepared to vote for an address requesting that he might be removed, and that his place might be filled by Talmash, who, since the disgrace of Marlborough, was universally allowed to be the best officer in the army. But Talmash’s friends judiciously interfered. “I have,” said one of them, “a true regard for that gentleman; and I implore you not to do him an injury under the notion of doing him a kindness. Consider that you are usurping what is peculiarly the King’s prerogative. You are turning officers out and putting officers in.” The debate ended without any vote of censure on Solmes. But a hope was expressed, in language not very parliamentary, that 8 * chap. XIX. 161 ) 11 . 116 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. 16 D 2 . xvhat had been said in the Committee -would be reported to the King, and that His Majesty would not disregard the general wish of the representatives of his people.* The Commons next proceeded to inquire into the naval administration, and very soon came to a quarrel with the Lords on that subject. That there had been mismanagement somewhere was but too evident. It was hardly possible to acquit both Russell and Nottingham; and each House stood by its own member. The Commons had, at the opening of the session , unanimously passed a vote of thanks to Russell for his conduct at La Hogue. They now, in the Grand Committee of Advice, took into consideration the miscarriages which had followed the battle. A motion was made so vaguely worded that it could hardly be said to mean any thing. It was understood however to imply a censure on Nottingham, and was therefore strongly opposed by his friends. On the division the Ayes were a hundred and sixty five, the Noes a hundred and sixty four.** On the very next day Nottingham appealed to the Lords. He told his story with all the skill of a practised orator, and with all the authority which belongs to unblemished integrity. He then laid on the table a great mass of papers, which he requested the House to read and- consider. The Peers seem to have examined the papers seriously and diligently. The result of the examination was by no means favourable to Russell. Yet it was thought unjust to condemn him unheard; and it was difficult to devise any way in which their Lordships could hear him. At last it was resolved so send the papers down to the Commons with a message which imported that, in the opinion of the Upper House, there was a case against the Admiral * Grey’s Debates, Nov. 21. 1692; Colt Papers in Tindal. ** Tindal, Colt Papers; Commons’Journals, Jan. H. 169|, WILLIAM AND MAST. 117 *1 which he ought to he called upon to answer. With the papers was sent an abstract of the contents.* The message was not very respectfully received. Bussell had, at that moment, a popularity which he little deserved, but which will not surprise us when we remember that the public knew nothing of his treasons, and knew that he was the only living Englishman who had won a great battle. The abstract of the papers was read by the clerk. Russell then spoke With great applause; and his friends pressed for an immediate decision. Sir Christopher Musgrave very justly observed that it was impossible to pronounce judgment on such a pile of despatches without perusing them: but this objection was overruled. The Whigs regarded the accused member as one of themselves: many of the Tories were dazzled by the splendour of his recent victory; and neither Whigs nor Tories were disposed to show any deference for the authority of the Peers. The House, without reading the papers, passed an unanimous resolution expressing warm approbation of Bussell’s whole conduct. The temper of the assembly was such that some ardent Whigs thought that they might now venture to propose a vote of censure on Nottingham by name. But the attempt failed. “I am ready,” said Lowther,—and he doubtless expressed what many felt, — “I am ready to support any motion that may do honour to the Admiral: but I cannot join in an attack on the Secretary of State. For, to my knowledge, their Majesties have no more zealous, laborious or faithful servant than my Lord Nottingham.” Finch exerted all his mellifluous eloquence in defence of his brother, and contrived, without directly opposing himself to the prevailing sentiment, to insinuate that Bussell’s conduct had not been faultless. The vote of censure on Nottingham was not pressed. The vote * Colt Papers in Tindal; Lords 1 Journals from Dec. 6. to Dec. 19. 1692, inclusive. CHAP. XIX. 118 niSTOHY Of ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX . 1692. which pronounced Russell's conduct to have been deserving of all praise was communicated to the Lords; and the papers which they had sent down were very unceremoniously returned. * The Lords, much offended, demanded a free conference. It was granted; and the managers of the two Houses met in the' Painted Chamber. Rochester, in the name of his brethren, expressed a wish to be informed of the grounds on which the Admiral had been declared faultless. To this appeal the gentlemen who stood on the other side of the table answered only that they had not been authorised to give any explanation, but that they would report to those who had sent them what had been said.** By this time the Commons were thoroughly tired of the inquiry into the conduct of the war. The members had got rid of much of the ill humour which they had brought up with them from their country seats by the simple process of talking it away. Burnet hints that those arts of which Caermarthen and Trevor were the great masters were employed for the purpose of averting votes which would have seriously embarrassed the government. But, though it is not improbable that a few noisy pretenders to patriotism may have been quieted with bags of guineas, it would be absurd to suppose that the House generally was influenced in this manner. Whoever has seen anything of such assemblies knows that the spirit with which they enter on long inquiries very soon flags, and that their resentment, if not kept alive by.injudicious opposition, cools fast. In a short time every body was sick of the Grand Committee of Advice. The debates had been tedious and desultory. The resolutions which had been carried were for the most part * As to the proceedings of this day in the House of Commons, see the Journals, Dec. 20., and the letter of Robert Wilmot, M.P. for Derby, to his colleague Anchitel Grey, in Grey’s Debates. ** Commons’ Journals, Jan. 4. 169£. WILLIAM AND MABT. 119 merely childish. The King was to be humbly advised to employ men of ability and integrity. He was to be humbly advised to employ men who would stand by him against James. The patience of the House was wearied out by long discussions ending in the pompous promulgation of truisms like these. At last the explosion came. One of the grumblers called the attention of the Grand Committee to the alarming fact that two Dutchmen were employed in the Ordnance department, and moved that the King should be humbly advised to dismiss them. The motion was received with disdainful mockery. It was remarked that the military men especially were loud in the expression of contempt. “Do we seriously think of going to the King and telling him that, as he has condescended to ask our advice at this momentous crisis, we humbly advise him to turn a Dutch storekeeper out of the Tower? Really, if we have no more important suggestion to carry up to the throne, we may as well go to our dinners.” The members generally were of the same mind. The chairman was voted out of the chair, and was not directed to ask leave to sit again. The Grand Committee ceased to exist. The resolutions which it had passed were formally reported to the House. One of them was rejected: the others were suffered to drop; and the Commons, after considering during several weeks what advice they should give to the King, ended by giving him no advice at all.* The temper of the Lords was different. From many circumstances it appears that there was no place where the Dutch were, at this time, so much hated as in the Upper House. The dislike with which an Englishman of the middle class regarded the King’s foreign friends was merely national. But the dislike with which an English nobleman regarded them was personal. * * Colt Papers in Tindal; Commons 1 Journals Dec. 16. 1692, Jan. 13* 169f; Burnet, ii. 104. CHAP. XIX. lti'JS. 120 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. CnAP. XIX. 1692 . They stood between him and Majesty. They intercepted from - him the rays of royal favour. The preference given to them wounded him both in his interests and in his pride. His chance of the Garter was much smaller since they had become his competitors. He might have been Master of the Horse but for Auverquerque, Master of the Kobes but for Zulestein, Groom of the Stole but for Bentinck.* The ill humour of the aristocracy was inflamed by Marlborough, who, at this time, affected the character of a patriot persecuted for standing up against the Dutch in defence of the interests of his native land, and who did not foresee that a day would come when he ivould be accused of sacrificing the interests of his native land to gratify the Dutch. The Peers determined to present an address requesting William not to place his English troops under the command of a foreign general. They took up very seriously that question which had moved the House of Commons to laughter, and solemnly counselled their Sovereign not to employ foreigners in his magazines. At Marlborough’s suggestion they urged the King to insist that the youngest English general should take precedence of the oldest general in the service of the States General. It was, they said, derogatory to the dignity of the Crown, that an officer who held a commission from His Majesty should ever be commanded by an officer who held a similar commission from a republic. To this advice, evidently dictated by an ignoble malevolence to Holland, William, who troubled himself little about votes of the Upper House which were not backed by the Lower, returned, as might have been expected, a' very short and dry answer. ** * The peculiar antipathy of the English nobles to the Dutch favourites is mentioned in a highly interesting note written by Kcnaudot in 1698, and preserved among the Archives of the French Foreign Office. ** Colt Papers in Tindal; Lords’Journals, Nov. 28. and 29. 1692, Feb. 18. and 24.169|. WILLIAM AND MABY. 121 "While the inquiry into the conduct of the war was pending, chap. the Commons resumed the consideration of an important sub— ject which had occupied much of their attention in the preceding Bin for year. The Bill for the Regulation of Trials in cases of High gi^uon Treason was again brought in, but was strongly opposed by the °„ f official men, both "Whigs and Tories. Somers, now Attorney °o n Troa ' General, strongly recommended delay. That the law, as it stood, was open to grave objections, was not denied: but it was contended that the proposed reform would, at that moment, produce more harm than good. Nobody would assert that, under the existing government, the lives of innocent subjects were in any danger. Nobody would deny that the government itself was in great danger. Was it the part of wise men to increase the perils of that which was already in serious peril for the purpose of giving new security to that which was already perfectly secure? Those who held this language were twitted with their inconsistency, and asked why they had not ventured to oppose the bill in the preceding session. They answered very plausibly that the events which had taken place during the recess had taught an important lesson to all who were capable of learning. The country had been threatened at once with invasion and insurrection. No rational man doubted that many traitors had made preparations for joining the French, and had collected arms, ammunition and horses for that purpose. Yet, though there was abundant moral evidence against these enemies of their country, it had not been possible to find legal evidence against a single one of them. The law of treason might, in theory, be harsh, and had undoubtedly, in times past, been grossly abused. But a statesman who troubled himself less about theory than about practice, and less about times past than about the time present, would pronounce that law not too stringent but too lax, and would, while the commonwealth remained in extreme jeopardy, refuse to consent to 122 HISTORY 03? ENGLAND*. CHAP. XIX. itiU2. Casf*. of Lord Mo- bun. any further relaxation. In spite of all opposition, however, the principle of the hill was approved by one hundred and seventy one votes to one hundred and fifty two. • But in the committee it was moved and carried that the new rules of procedure should not come into operation till after the end of the war with France. When the report was brought up the House divided on this amendment, and ratified it by a hundred and forty five votes to a hundred and twenty five. The bill w r as consequently suffered to drop.* Had it gone up to the Peers it would in all probability have been lost after causing another quarrel between the Houses. For the Peers were fully determined that no such bill should pass, unless it contained a clause altering the constitution of the Lord High Steward’s Court; and a clause altering the constitution of the Lord High Steward’s Court would have been less likely than ever to find favour with the Commons. For in the course of this session an event took place which proved that the great were only too well protected by the law as it stood, and which well deserves to be recorded as a striking illustration of the state of manners and morals in that age. Of all the actors who were then on the English stage the most graceful was William Mountford. He had every physical qualification for his calling, a noble figure, a handsome face, a melodious voice. It was not easy to say whether he succeeded better in heroic or in ludicrous parts. He was allowed to be both the best Alexander and the best Sir Courtly Nice that ever trod the boards. Queen Mary, whose knowledge was very superficial, but who had naturally a quick perception of what was excellent in art, admired him greatly. He was a dramatist as well as a player, and has left us one comedy which is not contemptible.** * Grey’s Debates, Nov. 18. 1692; Commons’ Journals, Nov. 18., Dec. 1. 1692. ** See Cibber’s Apology, and Mountford’s Greenwich Park* WILLIAM AND MAHT 123 The most popular actress of the time was Anne Bracegirdle. There were on the stage many women of more faultless beauty, but none whose features and deportment had such power to fascinate the senses and the hearts of men. The sight of her bright black eyes and of her rich brown cheek sufficed to put the most turbulent audience into good humour. It was said of her that in the crowded theatre she had as many lovers as she had male spectators. Yet no lover, however rich, however high in rank, had prevailed on her to be his mistress. Those who are acquainted with the parts which she was in the habit of playing, and with the epilogues which it was her especial business to recite, will not easily give her credit for any extraordinary measure of virtue or of delicacy. She seems to have been a cold, vain and interested coquette, who perfectly understood how much the influence of her charms was increased by the fame of a severity which cost her nothing, and who could venture to flirt with a succession of admirers in the just confidence that no flame which she might kindle in them would thaw her own ice.* Among those who pursued her with an insane desire was a profligate captain in the army named Hill. With TIill was closely bound in a league of debauchery and violence Charles Lord Mohun, a young nobleman whose life was one long revel and brawl. Hill, finding that the beautiful brunette was invincible, took it into his head that he was rejected for a more favoured rival, and that this rival was the brilliant Mountford. The jealous lover swore over his wine at a tavern that he would stab the villain. “And I,” said Mohun, “will stand by my friend.” From the tavern the pair went, with some soldiers whose services Hill had secured, to Drury Lane where the lady resided. They lay some time in wait for her. As soon as she appeared in the street she was seized and * See Cibber’s Apology, Tom Brown’s Works, and indeed the works of every man of wit and pleasure about town. CHAP. XIX. 1092 . 124 HISTOEY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. 16112 , hurried to a coach. She screamed for help: her mother clung •round her: the whole neighbourhood rose; and she was rescued. Hill and Mohun went away vowing vengeance. They swaggered sword in hand during two hours about the streets near Mountford’s dwelling. The watch requested them to put up their weapons. But when the young lord announced that he was a peer, and bade the constables touch him if they durst, they let him pass. So strong was privilege then; and so weak was law. Messengers were sent to warn Mountford of his danger: but unhappily they missed him. He came. A short altercation took place between him and Mohun; and, while they were wrangling, Hill ran the unfortunate actor through the body, and fled. The grand jury of Middlesex, consisting of gentlemen of note, found a bill of murder against Hill and Mohun. Hill escaped. Mohun was taken. His mother threw herself at William’s feet, but in vain. “It was a cruel act,” said the King: “I shall leave it to the law.” The trial came on in the Court of the Lord High Steward; and, as Parliament happened to be sitting, the culprit had the advantage of being judged by the whole body of the peerage. There was then no lawyer in the Upper House. It therefore became necessary, for the first time since Buckhurst had pronounced sentence on Essex and Southampton, that a peer who had never made jurisprudence his special study should preside over that grave tribunal. Caermarthen, who, as Lord President, took precedence of all the nobility, was appointed Lord High Steward. A full report of the proceedings has come down to us. No person, who carefully examines that report, and attends to the opinion unanimously given by the Judges in answer to a question which Nottingham drew up, and in which the facts brought out by the evidence are stated with perfect fairness, can doubt that the crime of murder was fully brought home to the prisoner. Such ."KniOH WILLIAM AND MARY, 125 was the opinion of the King -who was present during the trial; chap. and such was the almost unanimous opinion of the public. Had — the issue been tried by Holt and twelve plain men at the Old Bailey, there can be no doubt that a verdict of Guilty would have been returned. The Peers, however, by sixty nine votes to fourteen, acquitted their accused brother. One great nobleman was so brutal and stupid as to say, “After all the fellow was but a player; and players are rogues.” All the newsletters, all the coffeehouse orators, complained that the blood of the poor was shed with impunity by the great. Wits remarked that the only fair thing about the trial was the show of ladies in the galleries. Letters and journals are still extant in which men of all shades of opinion, Whigs, Tories, Nonjurors, condemn the partiality of the tribunal. It was not to be expected that, while the memory of this scandal was fresh in the public mind, the Commons would be induced to give any new advantage to accused peers.* The Commons had, in the meantime, resumed the con-Debates sideration of another highly important matter, the state of the India trade with India. They had, towai-ds the close of the preceding trod °' session, requested the King to dissolve the old Company and to constitute a new Company on such terms as he should think fit; and he had promised to take their request into his serious consideration. He now sent a message to inform them that it was out of his power to do what they had asked. He had referred the charter of the old Company to the Judges, and the Judges had pronounced that, under the provisions of that charter, the old Company could not be dissolved without three * The chief source of information about this case is the report of the trial, which will be found in Howell's Collection. Sec Evelyn’s Diary, February 4. 169f. I have taken some circumstances from Narcissus Lut- trell’s Diary, from a letter to Sanoroft which is among the Tanner MSS. in the Bodleian Library, and from two letters addressed by Brewer to Wharton, which are also in the Bodleian Library. 126 nisTour of England. ciiap. XIX. icya. Supply. years’ notice, and must retain during those three years the exclusive privilege of trading to the East Indies. He added that, being sincerely desirous to gratify the Commons, and finding himself unable to do so in the way which they had pointed out, he had tried to prevail on the old Company to agree to a compromise: but that body stood obstinately on its extreme rights; and his endeavours had been frustrated.* This message reopened the whole question. The two factions •which divided the City were instantly on the alert. The debates in the House were long and warm. Petitions against the old Company were laid on the table. Satirical handbills against the new Company were distributed in the lobby. At length, after much discussion, it was resolved to present an address requesting the King to give the notice which the Judges had pronounced necessary. He promised to bear the subject in mind, and to do his best to promote the welfare of the kingdom. With this answer the House was satisfied, and the subject was not again mentioned till the next session.** The debates of the Commons on the conduct of the war, on the law of treason and on the trade with India, occupied much time, and produced no important result. But meanwhile real business was doing in the Committee of Supply and the Committee of Ways and Means. In the Committee of Supply the estimates passed rapidly. A few members declared it to be their opinion that England ought to withdraw her troops from the Continent, to carry on the war with vigour by sea, and to keep up only such an army as might be sufficient to repel any invader who might elude the vigilance of her fleets. But this doctrine, which speedily became and long continued to be the badge of one of the great parties in the state, was as yet pro- * Commons’ Journals, Nov. 14. 1692.’ ** Commons’ Journals of the Session, particularly of Nov. 17., Dec. 10., Feb. 25., March 3.; Colt Papers in Tindal. ■WILLIAM AND MART. 127 fessed only by a small minority which did not venture to call for chap. a division.* - In the Committee of Ways and Means, it Avas determined AVays ana that a great part of the charge of the year should be defrayed ISVai. by means of an impost, Avhich, though old in substance, was neAV in form. From a very early period to the middle of the seventeenth century, our Parliaments had provided for the extraordinary necessities of the government chiefly by granting subsidies. A subsidy was raised by an impost on the people of the realm in respect of their reputed estates. Landed property was the chief subject of taxation, and Avas assessed nominally at four shillings in the pound. But the assessment Avas made in such a way that it not only did not rise in proportion to the rise in the value of land or to the fall in the value of the precious metals, but went on constantly sinking, till at length the rate was in truth less than twopence in the pound. In the time of Charles the First a real tax of four shillings in the pound on land would probably have yielded near a million and a half: but a subsidy amounted to little more than fifty thousand pounds.** The financiers of the Long Parliament devised a more efficient mode of taxing estates. The sum which Avas to be raised was fixed. It Avas then distributed among the counties in proportion to their supposed wealth, and Avas levied AA’ithin each county by a rate. The revenue derived from these assessments in the time of the Commonwealth varied from thirty five thousand pounds to a hundred and twenty thousand pounds a month. After the Eestoration the legislature seemed for a time * Commons’ Journals, Dec. 10.; Tindal, Colt Papers. ** See Coke’s Institutes, part iv. chapter 1. In 1566 a subsidy was 320,0001.; in 1598, 78,0001.; when Coke wrote his Institutes, about the end of the reign of James I., 70,0001. Clarendon tells us that, in 1640, twelve subsidies were estimated at about 600,0001. 128 HISTOBY OF ENGLAND. crap, inclined to revert, in finance as in other things, to the ancient —jpractice. Subsidies were once or twice granted to Charles the Second. But it soon appeared that the old system was much less convenient than the new system. The Cavaliers condescended to take a lesson in the art of taxation from the Roundheads; and, during the interval between the Restoration and the Revolution, extraordinary calls were occasionally met by assessments resembling the assessments of the Commonwealth. After thfe Revolution, the war with France made it necessary to have recourse annually to this abundant source of revenue. In 1689, in 1690 and in 1691, great sums had been raised on the land. At length in 1692 it was determined to draw supplies from real property more largely than ever. The Commons resolved that a new and more accurate valuation of estates should be made over the whole realm, and that on the rental thus ascertained a pound rate should be paid to the government. Such was the origin of the existing land tax. The valuation made in 1692 has remained unaltered down to our own time. According to that valuation, one shilling in the pound on the rental of the kingdom amounted, in round numbers, to half a million. During a hundred and six years, a land tax bill was annually presented to Parliament, and was annually passed, though not always without murmurs from the country gentlemen. The rate was, in time of war, four shillings in the pound. In time of peace, before the reign of George the Third, only two or three shillings were usually granted; and, during a short part of the prudent and gentle administration of Walpole, the government asked for only one shilling. But, after the disastrous year in which England drew the sword against her American colonies, the rate was never less than four shillings. At length, in the year 1798, the Parliament relieved itself from the trouble of passing a new Act every spring. The land tax, WILLIAM AND MABY. 129 at four shillings in the pound, was made permanent; and those who were subject to it were permitted to redeem it. A great - part has been redeemed; and at present little more than a fiftieth of the ordinary revenue required in time of peace is raised by that impost which was once regarded as the most productive of all the resources of the State. * The land tax was fixed, for the year 1693, at four shillings in the pound, and consequently brought about two millions into the Treasury. That sum, small as it may seem to a generation, which has expended a hundred and twenty millions in twelve months, was such as had never before been raised here in one year by direct taxation. It seemed immense both to Englishmen and to foreigners. Lewis, who found it almost impossible to wring by cruel exactions from the beggared peasantry of France the means of supporting the greatest army and the most gorgeous court that had existed in Europe since the downfall of the lloman empire, broke out, it is said, into an exclamation of angry surprise when he learned that the Commons of England had, from dread and hatred of his power, unanimously determined to lay on themselves, in a year of scarcity and of commercial embarrassment, a burden such as neither they nor their fathers had ever before borne. “My little cousin of Orange,” he said, “seems to be firm in the saddle.” He afterwards added: “No matter; the last piece-of gold will win.” This however was a consideration from which, if he had been well informed touching the resources of England, he would not have derived much comfort. Kensington was certainly a mere hovel when compared to his superb Versailles. The display of jewels, plumes and lace, led horses and gilded coaches, which daily surrounded him, far outshone the splendour which, even on great public occasions, our princes were in the habit of * Sec the old Land Tax Acts, and the debates on the Land Tax Redemption Bill of 1798. Macaulay, History. VII. CHAP. XIX. J692. 9 130 HISTOBY OP ENGLAND. displaying. But the condition of the majority of the people of England was, beyond all doubt, such as the majority of the people of France might well have envied. In truth what was called severe distress here would have been called unexampled prosperity there. The land tax was not imposed without a quarrel between the Houses. The Commons appointed commissioners to make the assessment. The commissioners were the principal gentlemen of every county, and were named in the bill. The Lords thought this arrangement inconsistent with the dignity of the peerage. They therefore inserted a clause providing that their estates should be valued by twenty of their own order. The Lower House indignantly rejected this amendment, and demanded an instant conference. After some delay, which increased the ill humour of the Commons, the conference took place. The bill was returned to the Peers with a very concise and haughty intimation that they must not presume to alter laws relating to money. A strong party among the Lords was obstinate. Mul- grave spoke at great length against the pretensions of the plebeians. He told his brethren that, if they gave way, they would abdicate that authority which had belonged to the baronage of England ever since the foundation of the monarchy, and that they would have nothing left of their old greatness except their coronets and ermines. Burnet says that this speech was the finest that he ever heard in Parliament; and Burnet was undoubtedly a good judge of speaking, and was neither partial to Mulgrave nor zealous for the privileges of the aristocracy. The orator, however, though he charmed his hearers, did not succeed in convincing them. Most of them shrank from a conflict in -which they would have had against them theCommons united as one man, and the King, who, in case of necessity, would undoubtedly have created fifty peers rather than have suffered the land tax bill to be lost. Two strong protests, however, WILLIAM. AND MABY. 131 signed, the first by twenty seven, the second by twenty one dissentients, show how obstinately many nobles were prepared to contend at all hazards for the dignity of their caste. Another conference was held; and Rochester announced that the Lords, for the sake of the public interest, waived'what they must nevertheless assert to be their clear right, and would not insist on their amendment.* The bill passed, and was followed by bills for laying additional duties on imports, and for taxing the dividends of joint stock companies. Still, however, the estimated revenue was-not equal to the estimated expenditure. The year 1G92 had bequeathed a large deficit to the year 1693; and it seemed probable that the charge for 1693 would exceed by about five hundred thousand pounds the charge for 1692. More than two millions had been voted for the army and ordnance, near two millions for the navy.** Only eight years before fourteen hundred thousand pounds had defrayed the whole annual charge of government. More than four times that sum was now required. Taxation, both direct and indirect, had been carried to an unprecedented point: yet the income of the state still fell short of the outlay by about a million. It was necessary to devise something. Something was devised, something of which the effects are felt to this .day in every part of the globe. There was indeed nothing strange or mysterious in the expedient to which the government had recourse. It was an expedient familiar, during two centuries, to the financiers of the * Lords’ Journals, Jan. 1G, 17, 18, 19, 20.; Commons’ Journals, Jan. 17, 18. 20. 1G92; Tindal, from the Colt Papers; Burnet, ii. 104, 105. Burnet has used an incorrect expression, which Tindal, Ralph and others have copied. He says that the question was whether the Lords should tax themselves. The Lords did not claim any right to alter the amount of taxation laid on them by the bill as it came up to them. They only demanded that their estates should be valued, not by the ordinary commissioners, but by special commissioners of higher rank. ** Commons’ Journals , Dec. T * 2 .1G92. C1UP. XIX. JC1)2. 9 * 132 HISTORY OR ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. 161 ) 2 . Origin the na' tional debt. Continent, and could hardly fail to occur to any English statesman who compared the void in the Exchequer with the overflow in the money market. During the interval between the Restoration and the Revolution the riches of the nation had been rapidly increasing. Thousands of busy men found every Christmas that, after the expenses of the year’s housekeeping had been defrayed out of the year’s income, a surplus remained; and how that surplus was to be employed was a question of some difficulty. In our time, to invest such a surplus, at something more than three per cent, on the best security that has ever been known in the world, is the work of a few minutes. But in the seventeenth century a lawyer, a physician, a retired merchant, who had saved some thousands and who wished to place them safely and profitably, was often greatly embarrassed. Three generations earlier, a man who had accumulated wealth in a profession generally purchased real property or lent his savings on mortgage. But the number of acres in the kingdom had remained the same; and the value of those acres, though it had greatly increased, had by no means increased so fast as the quantity of capital which was seeking for employment. Many too wished to put their money where they could find it at an hour’s notice, and looked about for some species of property which could be more readily transferred than a house or a field. A capitalist might lend on bottomry or on personal security: but, if he did so, he ran a great risk of losing interest and principal. There W'ere a few joint stock companies, among which the East India Company held the foremost place: but the demand for the stock of such companies was far greater than the supply. Indeed the cry for a new East India Company was chiefly raised by persons who had found difficulty in placing their savings at interest on good security. So great was that difficulty that the practice of hoarding was common. We are told that the father of Rope the WILLIAM AND MA1U'. 133 poet, who retired from business in the City about the time of chap. the Revolution, carried to a retreat in the country a strong box i^ T ia ' ~~ containing near twenty thousand pounds, and took out from time to time what was required for household expenses; and it is highly probable that this was not a solitary case. At present the quantity of coin which is hoarded by private persons is so small that it would, if brought forth, make no perceptible addition to the circulation. But, in the earlier part of the reign of William the Third, all the greatest writers on currency were of opinion that a very considerable mass of gold and silver was hidden in secret drawers and behind wainscots. The natural effect of this state of things was that a crowd of projectors, ingenious and absurd, honest and knavish, employed themselves in devising new schemes for the employment of redundant capital. It was about the year 1688 that the word stockjobber was first heard in London. In the short space of four years a crowd of companies, every one of which confidently held out to subscribers the hope of immense gains, sprang into existence: the Insurance Company, the l’aper Company, the Lutestring Company, the Pearl Fishery Company, the Glass Bottle Company, the Alum Company, the Blythe Coal Coih- pany, the Swordblade Company. There was a Tapestry Company which would soon furnish pretty hangings for all the parlours of the middle class and for all the bedchambers of the higher. There was a Copper Company which proposed to explore the mines of England, and held out a hope that they would prove not less valuable than those of Potosi. There was a Diving Company which undertook to bring up precious effects from shipwrecked vessels, and which announced that it had laid ¥ in a stock of wonderful machines resembling complete suits of armour. In front of the helmet w'as a huge glass eye like that of a cyclop; and out of the crest went a pipe through which the air was to be admitted. The whole process was exhibited on 134 HISTOEY OF ENGLAND. . the Thames. Fine gentlemen and fine ladies were invited to the show, were hospitably regaled, and were delighted by seeing the divers in their panoply descend into the river and return laden with old iron and ship’s tackle. There was a Greenland Fishing Company which could not fail to drive the Dutch whalers and herring busses out of the Northern Ocean. There was a Tanning Company which promised to furnish leather superior to the best- that was brought from Turkey or Russia. There was a society which undertook the office of giving gentlemen a liberal education on low terms, and which assumed the sounding name of the Royal Academies Company. In a pompous advertisement it was announced that the directors of the Royal Academies Company had engaged the best masters in every branch of knowledge, and were about to issue twenty thousand tickets at twenty shillings each. There was to be a lottery: two thousand prizes were to be drawn; and the fortunate holders of the prizes were to be taught, at the charge of the Company, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, French, Spanish, conic sections, trigonometry, heraldry, japanning, fortification, bookkeeping and the art of playing the theorbo. Some of these companies took large mansions and printed their advertisements in gilded letters. Others, less ostentatious, were content with ink, and met at coffeehouses in the neighbourhood of the Royal Exchange. Jonathan’s and Garraway’s were in a constant ferment with brokers, buyers, sellers, meetings of directors, meetings of proprietors. Time bargains soon came into fashion. Extensive combinations were formed, and monstrous fables were circulated, for the purpose of raising or depressing the price of shares. Our country witnessed for the first time those phenomena with which a long experience has made us familiar. A mania of which the symptoms were essentially the same with those of the mania of 1720, of the mania of 1825, of the mania of 1845, seized the public mind. An impatience to be rich, a WILLIAM AND MAE'S. 135 contempt for those slow but sure gains which are the proper reward of industry, patience and thrift, spread through society. • The spirit of the cogging dicers of Whitefriars took possession of the grave Senators ofthe City, Wardens of Trades, Deputies, Aldermen. It was much easier and much more lucrative to put forth a lying prospectus announcing a new stock, to persuade ignorant people that the dividends could not fall short of twenty per cent, and to part with five thousand pounds of this imaginary wealth for ten thousand solid guineas, than to load a ship with a well chosen cargo for Virginia or the Levant. Every day some new bubble was puffed into existence, rose buoyant, shone bright, burst, and was forgotten.* The new form which covetousness had taken furnished the comic poets and satirists with an excellent subject; nor was that subject the less welcome to them because some of the most unscrupulous and most successful of the new race of gamesters were men in sad coloured clothes and lank hair, men who called cards the Devil’s books, men who thought it a sin and a scandal to win or lose twopence over a backgammon board. It was in the last drama of Shadw'ell that the hypocrisy and knavery of these speculators was, for the first time, exposed to public ridicule. He died in November 1692, just before his Stockjobbers came on the stage; and the epilogue was spoken by an actor dressed in deep mourning. The best scene is that in which four * For this account of the origin of stockjobbing in the City of London I am chiefly indebted to a most curious periodical paper, entitled, “Collection for the Improvement of Husbandry and Trade, by J. Houghton, F.R.S.” It is in fact a weekly history ofthe commercial speculations of that time. I have looked through the files of several years. In No. 33., March 17. 369|, Houghton says: “The buying and selling of Actions is one of the great trades now on foot. I find a great many do not understand the affair.” On June 13. and June 22. 1694, he traces the whole progress of stockjobbing. On July 13. of the same year lie makes the first mention of time bargains. Whoever is desirous to know more about the companies mentioned in the text may consult Houghton’s Collection and a pamphlet entitled Anglia Tutamen, published in 1695. CHAP. XIX. 1IS92. 136 HISTOET OF ENGLAND. . or five stern Nonconformists, clad in the full Puritan costume, after discussing the prospects of the Mousetrap Company and the Fleakilling Company, examine the question whether the godly may lawfully hold stock in a Company for bringing over Chinese ropedancers. “Considerable men have shares,” says one austere person in cropped hair and bands; “but verily I question whether it be lawful or not.” These doubts are removed by a stout old Roundhead colonel who had fought at Marston Moor, and who reminds his weaker brother that the saints need not themselves see the ropedancing, and that, in all probability, there will be no ropedancing to see. “The thing,” he says, “is like to take: the shares will sell well; and then we shall not care whether the dancers come over or no.” It is important to observe that this scene was exhibited and applauded before one farthing of the national debt had been contracted. So ill informed were the numerous writers who, at a later period, ascribed to the national debt the existence of stockjobbing and of all the immoralities connected with stock- jobbing. The truth is that society had, in the natural course of its growth, reached a point at which it was inevitable that there should be stockjobbing whether there were a national debt or not, and inevitable also that, if there were a long and costly war, there should be a national debt. How indeed was it possible that a debt should not have been contracted, when one party was impelled by the strongest motives to borrow, and another was impelled by equally strong motives to lend? A moment had arrived at which the government found it impossible, without exciting the most formidable discontents, to raise by taxation the supplies necessary to defend the liberty and independence of the nation; and, at that very moment, numerous capitalists were looking round them in vain for some good mode of investing their savings, and, for want of such a mode, were keeping their w'ealth locked up, or were WIT.LTAM AND MALT. 137 lavishing it on absurd projects. Riches sufficient to equip a navy which would sweep the German Ocean and the Atlantic - of French privateers, riches sufficient to maintain an army which might retake Namur and avenge the disaster of Steinkirk, were lying idle, or were passing away from the owners into the hands of sharpers. A statesman might well think that some part of the wealth which was daily buried or squandered might, with advantage to the proprietor, to the taxpayer and to the State, be attracted into the Treasury. AVhy meet the extraordinary charge of a year of war by seizing the chairs, the tables, the beds of hardworking families, by compelling one country gentleman to cut down his trees before they were ready for the axe, another to let the cottages on his land fall to ruin, a third to take away his hopeful son from the University, when Change Alley was swarming with people who did not know what to do with their money and who were pressing every body to borrow it? It was often asserted at a later period by Tories, who hated the national debt most of all things, and who hated Burnet most of all men, that Burnet was the person who first advised the government to contract a national debt. But this assertion is proved by no trustworthy evidence, and seems to be disproved by the Bishop’s silence. Of all men he was the least likely to conceal the fact that an important fiscal revolution had been his work. Nor was the Board of Treasury at that time one which much needed, or was likely much to regard, the counsels of a divine. At that Board sate Godolphin the most prudent and experienced, and Montague the most daring and inventive of financiers. Neither of these eminent men could be ignorant that it had long been the practice of the neighbouring states to spread over many years of peace the excessive taxation which was made necessary by one year of war. In Italy this practice had existed through many generations. France had, during criAp. XIX. 161 ) 2 . 138 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP XIX. linn. . the war which began in 1G72 and ended in 1679, borrowed not - less than thirty millions of our money. Sir William Temple, in his interesting work on the Batavian federation, had told his countrymen that, when he was ambassador at the Hague, the single province of Holland, then ruled by the frugal and prudent DeWitt, owed about five millions sterling, for which interest at four per cent was always ready to the day, and that when any part of the principal was paid off the public creditor received his money with tears, well knowing that he could find no other investment equally secure. The wonder is not that England should have at length imitated the example both of her enemies and of her allies, but that the fourth year of her arduous and exhausting struggle against Lewis should have been drawing to a close before she resorted to an expedient so obvious. On the fifteenth of December 1692 the House of Commons resolved itself into a Committee of Ways and Means. Somers took the chair. Montague proposed to raise a million by way of loan: the proposition was approved; and it was ordered that a bill should be brought in. The details of the scheme were much discussed and modified; but the principle appears to have been popular with all parties. The moneyed men were glad to have a good opportunity of investing what they had hoarded. The landed men, hard pressed by the load of taxation, were ready to consent to any thing for the sake of present ease. No member ventured to divide the House. On the twentieth of January the bill was read a third time, carried up to the Lords by Somers, and passed by them without any amendment. * By this memorable law new duties were imposed on beer and other liquors. These duties were to be kept in the Exchequer separate from all other receipts, and were to form a fund on the credit of which a million was to be raised by life annuities. As the annuitants dropped off, their annuities were to * Commons’ Journals; Stat. & W. M. c. 3. WILLIAM AND MAEY. 139 be divided among the survivors, till the number of survivors was reduced to seven. After that time, whatever fell in was to • go to the public. It was therefore certain that the eighteenth century would be far advanced before the debt would be finally extinguished. The rate of interest was to be ten per cent till the year 1700, and after that year seven per cent. The advantages offered to the public creditor by this scheme may seem great, but were not more than sufficient to compensate him for the risk which he ran. It was not impossible that there might be a counterrevolution; and it was certain that, if there were a counterrevolution, those who had lent money to William would lose both interest and principal. Such w r as the origin of that debt which has since become the greatest prodigy that ever perplexed the sagacity and confounded the pride of statesmen and philosophers. At every stage in the growth of that debt the nation has set up the same cry of anguish and despair. At every stage in the growth of that debt it has been seriously asserted by wise men that bankruptcy and ruin were at hand. Yet still the debt went on growing; and still bankruptcy and ruin were as remote as ever. When the great contest with Lewis the Fourteenth was finally terminated by the Peace of Utrecht, the nation owed about fifty millions; and that debt was considered, not merely by the rude multitude, not merely by foxhunting squires and coffeehouse orators, but by acute and profound thinkers, as an incumbrance which would permanently cripple the body politic. Nevertheless trade flourished: -wealth increased: the nation became richer and richer. Then came the war of the Austrian Succession; and the debt rose to eighty millions. Pamphleteers, historians and orators pronounced that now, at all events, our case was desperate. Yet the signs of increasing prosperity, signs which could neither be counterfeited nor concealed, ought to have satisfied observant and reflecting men that a debt of CHAP. XIX. 1CJJ. 140 HISTORY OE ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. J692. eighty millions was less to the England which was governed by - Pelham than a debt of fifty millions had been to the England which was governed by Oxford. Soon war again broke forth; and, under the energetic and prodigal administration of the first AVilliam Titt, the debt rapidly swelled to a hundred and forty millions. As soon as the first intoxication of victory was over, men of theory and men of business almost unanimously pronounced that the fatal day had now really arrived. The only statesman, indeed, active or speculative, who did not share in the general delusion was Edmund Burke. David Hume, undoubtedly one of the most profound political economists of his time, declared that our madness had exceeded the madness of the Crusaders. Richard Cceur de Lion and Saint Lewis had not gone in the face of arithmetical demonstration. It was impossible to prove by figures that the road to Paradise did not lie through the Holy Land: but it was possible to prove by figures that the road to national ruin was through the national debt. It was idle, however, now to talk about the road: we had done with the road: we had reached the goal: all was over: all the revenues of the island north of Trent and west of Reading were mortgaged. Better for us to have been conquered by Prussia or Austria than to be saddled with the interest of a hundred and forty millions.* And yet this great philosopher— for such he was — had only to open his eyes, and to see improvement all around him, cities increasing, cultivation extending, marts too small for the crowd of buyers and sellers, harbours insufficient to contain the shipping, artificial rivers joining the chief inland seats of industry to the chief seaports, streets better lighted, houses better furnished, richer wares exposed to sale in statelier shops, swifter carriages rolling along smoother roads. He had, indeed, only to compare the * See a very remarkable note in Hume’s History of England, Appendix III. WILLIAM AND MABY. 141 Edinburgh of his boyhood with the Edinburgh of his old age. His prediction remains to posterity, a memorable instance of the weakness from which the strongest minds are not exempt. Adam Smith saw a little and but a little further. He admitted that, immense as the burden was, the nation did actually sustain it and thrive under it in a way which nobody could have foreseen. But he warned his countrymen not to repeat so hazardous an experiment. The limit had been reached. Even a small increase might be fatal.* Not less gloomy was the view which George Grenville, a minister eminently diligent and practical, took of our financial situation. The nation must, he conceived, sink under a debt of a hundred and forty millions, unless a portion of the load were borne by the American colonies. The attempt to lay a portion of the load on the American colonies produced another war. That war left us with an additional hundred millions of debt, and without the colonies whose help had been represented as indispensable. Again England was given over; and again the strange patient persisted in becoming stronger and more blooming in spite of all the diagnostics and prognostics of State physicians. As she had been visibly more prosperous with a debt of a hundred and forty millions than with a debt of fifty millions, so she was visibly more prosperous with a debt of two hundred and forty millions than with a debt of a hundred and forty millions. Soon however the wars which sprang from the French Revolution, and which far exceeded in cost any that the world had ever seen, tasked the powers of public credit to the utmost. When the world was again at rest the funded debt of England amounted to eight hunched millions. If the most enlightened man had been told, in 1792, that, in 1815, the interest on eight hundred millions would be duly paid to the day at the Bank, he would have been as hard of belief as if he had been told that the CHAP. XIX. 11132 . * Wealth of Nations, book v. chap. iii. H I SSI H ji”>; 142 mSTOEY OE ENGLAND. cn.\p. government would be in possession of the lamp of Aladdin or of —the purse of Fortunatus. It was in truth a gigantic, a fabulous debt; and we can hardly wonder that the cry of despair should have been louder than ever. But again that cry was found to have been as unreasonable as ever. After a few years of exhaustion, England recovered herself. Yet, like Addison’s valetudinarian, who continued to whimper that he was dying of consumption till he became so fat that he was shamed into silence, she went on complaining that she was sunk in poverty till her wealth showed itself by tokens which made her complaints ridiculous. The beggared, the bankrupt society not only proved able to meet all its obligations, but, while meeting those obligations, grew richer and richer so fast that the growth could almost be discerned by the eye. In every county, we saw wastes recently turned into gardens: in every city, we saw new streets, and squares, and markets, more brilliant lamps, more abundant supplies of water: in the suburbs of every great seat of industry, we saw villas multiplying fast, each embosomed in its gay little paradise of lilacs and roses. While shallow politicians were repeating that the energies of the people were borne down by the weight of the public burdens, the first journey w r as performed by steam on a railway. Soon the island was intersected by railways. A sum exceeding the whole amount of the national debt at the end of the American war was, in a few years, voluntarily expended by this ruined people in viaducts, tunnels, embankments, bridges, stations, engines. Meanwhile taxation was almost constantly becoming lighter and lighter: yet still the Exchequer was full. It may be now affirmed without fear of contradiction that we find it as easy to pay the interest of eight hundred millions as our ancestors found it, a century ago, to pay the interest of eighty millions. It can hardly be doubted that there must have been some great fallacy in the notions of those who uttered and of those william: axd maky. 143 who believed that long succession of confident predictions, so signally falsified by a long succession of indisputable facts. To point out that fallacy is the office rather of the political economist than of the historian. Here it is sufficient to say that the prophets of evil w y ere under a double delusion. 'They erroneously imagined that there was an exact analogy between the case of an individual who is in debt to another individual and the case of a society which is in debt to a part of itself; and this analogy led them into endless mistakes about the effect of the system of funding. They were under an error not less serious touching the resources of the country. They made no allowance for the effect produced by the incessant progress of every experimental science, and by the incessant efforts of every man to get on in life. They saw that the debt grew; and they forgot that other things grew as well as the debt. A long experience justifies us in believing that England may, in the twentieth century, be better able to bear a debt of sixteen hundred millions than she is at the present time to bear her present load. But be this as it may, those who so confidently predicted that she must sink, first under a debt of fifty millions, then under a debt of eighty millions, then under a debt of a hundred and forty millions, then under a debt of two hundred and forty millions, and lastly under a debt of eight hundred millions, were beyond all doubt under a twofold mistake. They greatly overrated the pressure of the burden: they greatly underrated the strength by. which the burden was to be borne. It may be desirable to add a few words touching the way in which the system of funding has affected the interests of the great commonwealth of nations. If it be true that whatever gives to intelligence an advantage over brute force and to honesty an advantage over dishonesty has a tendency to promote the happiness and virtue of our race, it can scarcely be CHAP. XIX. JC92. 144 irLSTOHY OF ENGUlND. CHAP. XIX. 16 U 2 . Parliamentary Reform. denied that, in the largest view, the effect of this system has been salutary. For it is manifest that all credit depends on two things, on the power of a debtor to pay debts, and on his inclination to payihem. The power of a society to pay debts is proportioned to the progress which that society has made in industry, in commerce, and in all the arts and sciences which ilourish under the benignant influence of freedom and of equal law. The inclination of a society to pay debts is proportioned to the degree in which that society respects the obligations of plighted faith. Of the strength which consists in extent of territory and in number of fighting men, a rude despot who knows no law but his own childish fancies and headstrong passions, or a convention of socialists which proclaims all property to be robbery, may have more than falls to the lot of the best and wisest government. But the strength which is derived from the confidence of capitalists such a despot, such a convention, never can possess. That strength, — and it is a strength which has decided the event of more than one great conflict, — flies, by the law of its nature, from barbarism and fraud, from tyranny and anarchy, to follow civilisation and virtue, liberty and order. While the bill which first created the funded debt of England was passing, with general approbation, through the regular stages, the two Houses discussed, for the first time, the great question of Parliamentary Reform. It is to be observed that the object of the reformers of that generation was merely to make the representative body a more faithful interpreter of the sense of the constituent body. It seems scarcely to have occurred to any of them that the constituent body might be an unfaithful interpreter of the sense of the nation. It is true that those deformities in the structure of the constituent body, wdiich, at length, in our own days, raised an irresistible storm of public indignation, were far less “WILLIAM AND MANY. 145 numerous and far less offensive in the seventeenth century than they had become in the nineteenth. Most of the boroughs' which were disfranchised in 1832 were, if not positively, yet relatively, much more important places in the reign of William the Third than in the reign of William the Fourth. Of the populous and wealthy manufacturing towns, seaports and watering places, to which the franchise was given in the reign of William the Fourth, some were, in the reign of William the Third, small hamlets, where a few ploughmen or fishermen lived under thatched roofs: some were fields covered with harvests, or moors abandoned to grouse. With the exception of Leeds and Manchester, there was not, at the time of the Revolution, a single town of five thousand inhabitants which did not send two representatives to the House of Commons. Even then, however, there was no want of startling anomalies. Looe, EastandWest, which contained not half the population or half the wealth of the smallest of the hundred parishes of London, returned as many members as London.* Old Sarum, a deserted ruin which the traveller feared to enter at night lest he should find robbers lurking there, had as much weight in the legislature as Devonshire or Yorkshire.** Some eminent individuals of both parties, Clarendon, for example, among the Tories, andPollexfen among the Whigs, condemned this system. Y r et both parties were, for very different reasons, unwilling to alter it. It was protected by the prejudices of one faction and by the interests of the other. Nothing could be more repugnant to the genius of Toryism than the thought of destroying at a blow institutions which had stood through ages, for the purpose of building something more symmetrical out of the ruins. The Whigs, on the other hand, could not but know that they were much'more likely to lose than to gain by a * Wesley was struck with this anomaly in 1745. See his Journal. ** Pepys t June 10. 1668. Macaulay, History. 17/. 10 CHAP. X IX. 146 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. 16112 . change in this part of our polity. It would indeed be a great mistake to imagine that a law transferring political power from small to large constituent bodies would have operated in 1G92 as it operated in 1832. In 1832 the effect of the transfer W'as to increase the power of the town population. In 1G92 the effect would have been to make the power of the rural population irresistible. Of the one hundred and forty two members taken away in 1832 from small boroughs more than half were given to large and flourishing towns. But in 1G92 there was hardly one large and flourishing town which had not already as many members as it could, with any show of reason, claim. Almost all therefore that was taken from the small boroughs must have been given to the counties; and there can be no doubt that whatever tended to raise the counties and to depress the towns must on the whole have tended to raise the Tories and to depress the Whigs. From the commencement of our civil troubles the towns had been on the side of freedom and progress, the country gentlemen and the country clergymen on the side of authority and prescription. If therefore a reform bill, disfranchising small constituent bodies and giving additional members to large constituent bodies, had become law soon after the Revolution, there can be little doubt that a decided majority of the House of Commons would have consisted of rustic baronets and squires, high Churchmen, high Tories, and half Jacobites. With such a House of Commons it is almost certain that there would have been a persecution of the Dissenters: it is not easy to understand how there could have been an union with Scotland; and it is not improbable that there would have been a restoration of the Stuarts. Those parts of our constitution therefore which, in recent times, politicians of the liberal school have generally considered as blemishes, were, five generations ago, regarded with complacency by the men. who wore most zealous for civil and religious freedom. WILLIAM AND MARY. 147 But, while Whigs and Tories agreed in wishing to maintain the existing rights of election, both "Whigs and Tories were forced to admit that the relation between the elector and the representative was not what it ought to be. Before the civil wars the House of Commons had enjoyed the fullest confidence of the nation. A House of Commons, distrusted, despised, hated by the Commons, was a thing unknown. The very words would, to Sir Peter Wentworth or Sir Edward Coke, have sounded like a contradiction in terms. But by degrees a change took place. The Parliament elected in 1661 , during that fit of joy and fondness which followed the return of the royal family, represented, not the deliberate sense, but the momentary caprice of the nation. Many of the members were men who, a few months earlier or a few months later, would have had no chance of obtaining seats, men of broken fortunes and of dissolute habits, men whose only claim to public confidence was the ferocious hatred which they bore to rebels and Puritans. The people, as soon as they had become sober, saw with dismay to what an assembly they had, during their intoxication, confided the care of their property, their liberty and their religion. And the choice, made in a moment of frantic enthusiasm, might prove to be a choice for life. As the law then stood, it depended entirely on the King’s pleasure whether, during his reign, the electors should have.an opportunity of repairing their error. Eighteen years passed away. A new generation grew up. To the fervid loyalty with which Charles had been welcomed back to Dover succeeded discontent and disaffection. The general cry was that the kingdom was misgoverned, degraded, given up as a prey to worthless men and more worthless women, that our navy had been found unequal to a contest with Holland, that our independence had been bartered for the gold of France, that our consciences w r ere in danger of being again subjected to the yoke of Home. The 10 * CHAP. XIX. I Giili. 148 HISTORY OB ENGLAND. CIUP. XIX. 11192 . people had become Roundheads: but the body which alone was authorised to speak in the name of the people was still a body of Cavaliers. It is true that the King occasionally found even that House of Commons unmanageable. From the first it had contained not a few true Englishmen: others had been introduced into it as vacancies were made by death; and even the majority, courtly as it was, could not but feel some sympathy with the nation. A country party grew up and became formidable. But that party constantly found its exertions frustrated by systematic corruption. That some members of the legislature received direct bribes was with good reason suspected, but could not be proved. That the patronage of the Crown was employed on an extensive scale for the purpose of influencing votes was matter of notoriety. A large proportion of those who gave away the public money in supplies received part of that money back in salaries; and thus was formed a mercenary band on ■which the Court might, in almost any extremity , confidently rely. The servility of this Parliament had left a deep impression on the public mind. It was the general opinion that England ought to be protected against all risk of being ever again represented, during a long course of years, by men who had forfeited her confidence, and who were retained by a fee to vote against her wishes and interests. The subject was mentioned in the Convention; and some members wished to deal with it while the throne was still vacant. The cry for reform had ever since been becoming more and more importunate. The people, heavily pressed by taxes, were naturally disposed to regard those who lived on the taxes with little favour. The war, it was generally acknowledged, was just and necessary; and war could not be carried on without large expenditure. But the larger the expenditure which was required for the defence of the nation, the more important it was that nothing should be WIXLIAjM and jiaky. 149 squandered. The immense gains of official men moved envy and indignation. Here a gentleman was paid to do nothing. There many gentlemen were paid to do what would be better done by one. The coach, the liveries, the lace cravat and diamond buckles of the placeman were naturally seen with an evil eye by those who rose up early and lay down late in order to furnish him with the means of indulging in splendour and luxury. Such abuses it was the especial business of a House of Commons to correct. What then had the existing House of Commons done in the way of correction? Absolutely nothing. In 1690 , indeed, while the Civil List was settling, some sharp speeches had been made. In 1691 , when the Ways and Means were under consideration, a resolution had been passed so absurdly framed that it had proved utterly abortive. The nuisance continued, and would continue while it was a source of profit to those whose duty was to abate it. Who could expect faithful and vigilant stewardship from stewards who had a direct interest in encouraging the waste which they were employed to check? The House swarmed with placemen of all kinds, Lords of the Treasury, Lords of the Admiralty, Commissioners of Customs, Commissioners of Excise, Commissioners of Prizes, Tellers, Auditors, Receivers, Paymasters, Officers of the Mint, Officers of the household, Colonels of regiments, Captains of men of war, Governors of forts. We send up to “Westminster, it was said, one of our neighbours, an independent gentleman, in the full confidence that his feelings and interests are in perfect accordance with ours. We look to him to relieve us from every burden except those burdens without which the public service cannot be earned on, and which therefore, galling as they are, we patiently and resolutely bear. But before he has been a session in Parliament we learn that he is a Clerk of the Green Cloth or a Yeoman of the Removing Wardrobe, with a comfortable salary. Nay, we CIUP. XIX. Hi!K. 150 HISTORY OF ENGLAUU. chap, sometimes learn that he has obtained one of those places in the —j~-'~ Exchequer of which the emoluments rise and fall with the taxes which we pay. It would be strange indeed if our interests were safe in the keeping of a man whose gains consist in a percentage on our losses. The evil would be greatly diminished if we had frequent opportunities of considering whether the powers of our agent ought to be renewed or revoked. But, as the law stands, it is not impossible that he may hold those powers twenty or thirty years. While he lives, and while either the King or the Queen lives, it is not likely that we shall ever again exercise our elective franchise, unless there should be a dispute between the Court and the Parliament. The more profuse and obsequious a Parliament is, the less likely it is to give offence to the Court. The worse our representatives, therefore, the longer we are likely to be cursed with them. The outcry was loud. Odious nicknames were given to the Parliament. Sometimes it was the Officers’Parliament: sometimes it was the Standing Parliament, and W'as pronounced to he a greater nuisance than even a standing army. Two specifics for the distempers of the State were strongly recommended, and divided the public favour. One was a law excluding placemen from the House of Commons. The other was a law limiting the duration of Parliaments to three years.. In general the Tory reformers preferred a Place Bill, and the Whig reformers a Triennial Bill; but not a few zealous men of both parties were for trying both remedies. Ttici'iace Before Christmas a Place Bill was laid on the table of the Commons. That bill has been vehemently praised by writers who never saw it, and who merely guessed at what it contained. But no person who takes the trouble to study the original parchment, which, embrowned with the dust of a hundred and sixty years, reposes among the archives of the House of Lords, will find much matter for eulogy. WILLIAM AND MART. 151 About the manner in which such a bill should have been framed there will, in our time, be little difference of opinion among enlightened Englishmen. They will agree in thinking that it would be most pernicious to open the House of Commons to all placemen, and not less pernicious to close that House against all placemen. To draw with precision the line between those who ought to be admitted and those who ought to be excluded would be a task requiring much time, thought and knowledge of details. But the general principles which ought to guide us are obvious. The multitude of subordinate functionaries ought to be excluded. A few functionaries who are at the head or near the head of the great departments of the administration ought to be admitted. The subordinate functionaries ought to be excluded, because their admission w'ould at once lower the character of Parliament and destroy the efficiency of every public offiee. They are now excluded; and the consequence is that the State possesses a valuable body of servants who remain unchanged while cabinet after cabinet is formed and dissolved, who instruct every successive minister in his duties, and with whom it is the most sacred point of honour to give true information, sincere advice, and strenuous assistance to their superior for the time being. To the experience, the ability and the fidelity of this class of men is to be attributed the ease and safety with which the direction of affairs has been many times, within our own memory, transferred from Tories to Whigs and from Whigs to Tories. But no such class would have existed if persons who received salaries from the Crowm had been suffered to sit without restriction in the House of Commons. Those commis- sionerships, assistant secretaryships, chief clerkships, which are now held for life by persons wdio stand aloof from the strife of parties, would have been bestowed on members of Parliament who were serviceable to the government as voluble CHAP xix. 1692 . 152 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CnAP. XIX. 1692 . speakers or steady voters. As often as the ministry was -changed, all this crowd of retainers would have been ejected from office, and would have been succeeded by another set of members of Parliament who would probably have been ejected in their turn before they had half learned their business. Servility and corruption in the legislature, ignorance and incapacity in all the departments of the executive administration, would have been the inevitable effects of such a system. Still more noxious, if possible, would be the effects of a system under which all the servants of the Crown, without exception, should be excluded from the House of Commons. Aristotle has, in that treatise on government which is perhaps the most judicious and instructive of all his writings, left us a warning against a class of laws artfully framed to delude the vulgar, democratic in seeming, but oligarchic in effect.* Had he had an opportunity of studying the history of the English constitution, he might easily have enlarged his list of such laws. That men who are in the service and pay of the Crown ought nol to sit in an assembly specially charged with the duty of guarding the rights and interests of the community against all aggression on the part of the Crown is a plausible and a popular doctrine. Yet it is certain that if those who, five generations ago, held that doctrine, had been able to mould the constitution according to their wishes, the effect would have been the depression of that branch of the legislature which springs from the people and is accountable to the people, and the ascendency of the monarchical and aristocratical elements of our polity. The government would have been entirely in patrician hands. The House of Lords, constantly drawing to itself the first abilities in the realm, would have become the most august of senates, while the House of Commons would have sunk almost to the rank of a vestry. From time to time * See the Politics, iv. 13. WILLIAM AND MAKY. 153 undoubtedly men of commanding genius and of aspiring temper would have made their appearance among the representatives of the counties and boroughs. But every such man would have considered the elective chamber merely as a lobby through which he must pass to the hereditary chamber. The first object of his ambition would have been that coronet without which he could not be powerful in the state. As soon as he had shown that he could be a formidable enemy and a valuable friend to the government, he would have made haste to quit what would then have been in every sense the Lower House for what would then have been in every sense the Upper. The conflict between Walpole and Pulteney, the conflict between Pitt and Fox, would have been transferred from the popular to the aristocratic part of the legislature. On every great question, foreign, domestic or colonial, the debates of the nobles would have been impatiently expected and eagerly devoured. The report of the proceedings of an assembly containing no person empowered to speak in the name of the government, no person who had ever been in high political trust, would have been thrown aside with contempt. Even the control of the purse of the nation must have passed, not perhaps in form, but in substance, to that body in which would have been found every man who was qualified to bring forward a budget or explain an estimate. The country would have been governed by Peers; and the chief business of the Commons would have been to ■wrangle about bills for the inclosing of moors and the lighting of towns. These considerations were altogether overlooked in 1692. Nobody thought of drawing a line between the few functionaries who ought to be allowed to sit in the House of Commons and the crowd of functionaries who ought to be shut out. The only line which the legislators of that day took pains to draw was between themselves and their successors. Their own 154 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. IG92. interest they guarded with a care of which it seems strange that - they should not have been ashamed. Every one of them was allowed to keep the places which he had got, and to get as many more places as he could before the next dissolution of Parliament, an event which might not happen for many years. But a member who should be chosen after the first of February 1693 was not to be permitted to accept any place ■whatever.* In the House of Commons the bill passed through all its stages rapidly and without a single division. But in the Lords the contest was sharp and obstinate. Several amendments were proposed in committee; but all were rejected. The motion that the bill should pass was supported by Mulgrave in a lively and poignant speech, which has been preserved, and which proves that his reputation for eloquence w r as not unmerited. The Lords who took the other side did not, it should seem, venture to deny that there was an evil which required a remedy: but they maintained that the proposed remedy would only aggravate the evil. The patriotic representatives of the people had devised a reform which might perhaps benefit the next generation: but they had carefully reserved to themselves the privilege of plundering the present generation. If this bill passed, it was clear that, while the existing Parliament lasted, the number of placemen in the House of Commons would be little, if at all, diminished; and, if this bill passed, it was highly probable that the existing Parliament would last till both King William and Queen Mary were dead. For as, under this bill, Their Majesties would be able to exercise a much greater influence over the existing* Parliament than over any future Parliament, they would naturally wish to put off a dissolution as long as possible. The complaint of the electors of England was that now, in 1692, they were unfairly represented. It was not redress, but mockery, to tell them that their children * The bill will be found among the archives of the House of Lords. ■WILLIAM AND MAEY. 155 should be fairly represented in 1710 or 1720. The relief ought chap. to be immediate; and the way to give immediate relief was to limit the duration of Parliaments, and to begin with that Parliament which, in the opinion of the country, had already held power too long. The forces were so evenly balanced that a very slight accident might have turned the scale. When the question was put that the bill do pass, eighty two peers were present. Of these forty two were for the bill, and forty against it. Proxies were then called. There were only two proxies for the bill: there were seven against it; but of the seven three were questioned, and were with difficulty admitted. The result was that the bill was lost by three votes. The majority appears to have been composed of moderate Whigs and moderate Tories. Twenty of the minority proteste d, and among them were the most violent and intolerant members of both parties, such as Warrington, who had narrowly escaped the block for conspiring against James, and Aylesbury, who afterwards narrowly escaped the block for conspiring against William. Marlborough, who, since his imprisonment, had gone all lengths in opposition to the government, not only put his own name to the protest, but made the Prince of Denmark sign what it was altogether beyond the faculties of His Itoyal Highness to comprehend.* It is a remarkable circumstance that neither Caermarthen, the first in power as well as in abilities of the Tory ministers, nor Shrewsbury, the most distinguished of those Whigs who were then on bad terms with the Court, was present on this important occasion. Their absence was in all probability the effect of design; for both of them were in the House no long time before and no long time after the division. A few days later Shrewsbury laid on the table of the Lords a Jk® . , * Lords' Journals, Jan. 3. 169|. ^l 11 * 156 HISTORY OH ENGLAND. CHAP. xix. bill for limiting the duration of Parliaments. By this bill it was ■ provided that the Parliament then sitting should cease to exist on the first of January 1694, and that no future Parliament should last longer than three years. Among the Lords there seems to have been almost perfect unanimity on this subject. William in vain endeavoured to induce those peers in whom he placed the greatest confidence to support his prerogative. Some of them thought the proposed change salutary: others hoped to quiet the public mind by a liberal concession; and others had held such language when they 7 were opposing the Place Bill that they could not, without gross inconsistency, oppose the Triennial Bill. The whole House too bore a grudge to the other House, and had a pleasure in putting the other House in a most disagreeable dilemma. Burnet, Pembroke, nay, even Caermarthen, who was very little in the habit of siding with the people against the throne, supported Shrewsbury. “My Lord,” said the King to Caermarthen, with bitter displeasure, “you will live to repent the part which you are taking in this matter.”* The warning was disregarded; and the bill, having passed the Lords smoothly and rapidly, was carried xvith great solemnity by two judges to the Commons. Of what took place in the Commons we have but verymeagre accounts: but from those accounts it is clear that the Whigs, as a body, supported the bill, and that the opposition came chiefly from Tories. Old Titus, who had been a politician in the days of the Commonwealth, entertained the House with a speech in the style which had been fashionable in those day r s. Parliaments, he said, resembled the manna which God bestowed on the chosen people. They were excellent while they were fresh: but if kept too long they became noisome; * Introduction to the Copies and Extracts of some Letters written to and from the Earl ofDanby, now Duke of Leeds, published by His Grace’s Direction, 1710. WILLIAM AT.D MAKT. 157 and foul worms were engendered by the corruption of that which had been sweeter than honey. Littleton and other lead- ■ ing Whigs spoke on the same side. Seymour, Finch, and Tredenham, all stanch Tories, were vehement against the bill; and even Sir John Lowther on this point dissented from his friend and patron Caermarthen. Several Tory orators appealed to a feeling which was strong in the House, and which had, since the Revolution, prevented many laws from passing. Whatever, they said, comes from the Peers is to be received with suspicion; and the present bill is of such a nature that, even if it were in itself good, it ought to be at once rejected merely because it has been brought down from them. If their Lordships were to send us the most judicious of all money bills, should we not kick it to the door? Yet to send us a money bill would hardly be a grosser affront than to send us such a bill as this. They have taken an initiative which, by every rule of parliamentary courtesy, ought to have been left to us. They have sate in judgment on us, convicted us, condemned us to dissolution, and fixed the first of January for the execution. Are we to submit patiently to so degrading a sentence, a sentence too passed by men who have not so conducted themselves as to have acquired any right to censure others? Have they ever made any sacrifice of their own interest, of their own dignity, to the general welfare? Have not excellent bills been lost because we would not consent to insert in them clauses conferring new privileges on the nobility? And now that their Lordships are bent on obtaining popularity^ do they propose to purchase it by relinquishing even the smallest of their own oppressive privileges ? No: they offer to their country that which will cost them nothing, but w'hich will cost us and will cost the Crown dear. In such circumstances it is our duty to repel the insult which has been offered to us, and, by doing so, to vindicate the lawful prerogative of the King. CHAP. XIX. jikj:!. 158 niSTOET OF ENGLAND. Such topics as these were doubtless well qualified to inflame ■ the passions of the House of Commons. The near prospect of a dissolution could not be very agreeable to a member whose election was likely to be contested. He must go through all the miseries of a canvass, must shake hands with crowds of freeholders or freemen, must ask after their wives and children, must hire conveyances for outvoters, must open alehouses, must provide mountains of beef, must set rivers of ale running, and might perhaps, after all the drudgery and all the expense, after being lampooned, hustled, pelted, find himself at the bottom of the poll, see his antagonists chaired, and sink half ruined into obscurity. All this evil he was now invited to bring on himself, and invited by men whose own seats in the legislature were permanent, who gave up neither dignity nor quiet, neither power nor money, but gained the praise of patriotism by forcing him to abdicate a high station, to undergo harassing labour and anxiety, to mortgage his cornfields and to hew down his woods. There was naturally much irritation, more probably than is indicated by the divisions. For the constituent bodies were generally delighted with the bill; and many members who disliked it were afraid to oppose it. The House yielded to the pressure of public opinion, but not without a pang and a struggle. The discussions in the committee seem to have been acrimonious. Such sharp words passed between Seymour and one of the Whig members that it was necessary to put the Speaker in the chair and the mace on the table for the puqiose of restoring order. One amendment was made. The respite which the Lords had granted to the existing Parliament was extended from the first of January to Lady Day, in order that there might be full time for another session. The third reading was carried by two hundred votes to a hundred and Sixty one. The Lords agreed to the bill as amended; and nothing was wanting but the royal assent. Whether that assent would or WILLIAM A KB MAliY. 159 would not be given was a question which remained in suspense till the last day of the session.* One strange inconsistency in the conduct of the reformers of that generation deserves notice. It never occurred to any one of those who were zealous for the Triennial Bill that every argument which could be urged in favour of that bill was an argument against the rules which had been framed in old times for the purpose of keeping parliamentary deliberations and divisions strictly secret. It is quite natural that a government which withholds political privileges from the commonalty should withhold also political information. But nothing can be more irrational than to give power, and not to give the knowledge without which there is the greatest risk that power will be abused. What could be more absurd than to call constituent bodies frequently together that they might decide whether their representative had done his duty by them, and yet strictly to interdict them from learning, on trustworthy authority, what he had said or how he had voted? The absurdity however appears to have passed altogether unchallenged. It is highly probable that among the two hundred members of the House of Commons who voted for the third reading of the Triennial Bill there was not one who would have hesitated about sending to Newgate any person who had dared to publish a report of the debate on that bill, or a list of the Ayes and the Noes. The truth is that the secrecy of parliamentary debates, a secrecy which would now be thought a grievance more intolerable than the Shipmoney or the Star Chamber, was then inseparably associated, even in the most honest and intelligent minds, with constitutional freedom. A few old men still living could remember times when a gentleman who was known at Whitehall to have let fall a sharp word * Commons’ Journals; Grey’s Debates. The bill itself is among the archives of the House of Lords. CHAP. XIX. ifi'J'i. 160 HISTORY OP EN GLAND. CHAP. XIX. J6I)2. The first parliamentary discussions on the liberty of the press. against a court favourite would have been brought before the Privy Council and sent to the Tower. Those times were gone, never to return. There was no longer any danger that the King would oppress the members of the legislature; and there was much danger that the members of the legislature might oppress the people. Nevertheless the words Privilege of Parliament, those words which the stern senators of the preceding generation had murmured when a tyrant filled their chamber with his guards, those words which a hundred thousand Londoners had shouted in his ears when he ventured for the last time within the walls of their city, still retained a magical influence over all who loved liberty. It was long before even the most enlightened men became sensible that the precautions which had been originally devised for the purpose of protecting patriots against the displeasure of the Court now served only to proteot sycophants against the displeasure of the nation. It is also to be observed that few of those who showed at this time the greatest desire to increase the political power of the people were as yet prepared to emancipate the press from the control of the government. The Licensing Act, which had passed, as a matter of course, in 1685, expired in 1693, and was renewed, not however without an opposition, which, though feeble when compared with the magnitude of the object in dispute, proved that the public mind was beginning dimly to perceive how closely civil freedom and freedom of conscience are connected with freedom of discussion. On the history of the Licensing Act no preceding writer has thought it worth while to expend any care or labour. Yet surely the events which led to the establishment of the liberty of the press in England, and in all the countries peopled by the English race, may be thought to have as much interest for the WILLIAM AND MART. 161 present generation as any of those battles and sieges of which the most minute details have been carefully recorded. During the first three years of William’s reign scarcely a voice seems to have been raised against the restrictions which the law imposed on literature. Those restrictions were in perfect harmony with the theory of government held by the Tories, and were not, in practice, galling to the Whigs. Roger Lestrange, who had been licenser under the last two Kings of the House of Stuart, and who had shown as little tenderness to Exclusionists and Presbyterians in that character as in his other character of Observator, was turned out of office at the Revolution, and was succeeded by a Scotch gentleman, who, on account of his passion for rare books, and his habit of attending all sales of libraries, was known in the shops and coffeehouses near Saint Paul’s by the name of Catalogue Fraser. Fraser was a zealous Whig. By Whig authors and publishers he was extolled as a most impartial and humane man. But the conduct which obtained their applause drew on him the abuse of the Tories, and was not altogether pleasing to his official superior Nottingham.* No serious difference however seems to have arisen till the year 1692. In that year an honest old clergyman named Walker, who had, in the time of the Commonwealth, been Gauden’s curate, wrote a book which convinced all sensible and dispassionate readers that Gauden, and not Charles the First, was the author of the Icon Basilike. This book Fraser suffered to be printed. If he had authorised the publication of a work in which the Gospel of Saint John or the Epistle to the Romans had been represented as spurious, the indignation of the High Church party could hardly have been greater. The question was not literary, but religious. * Dunton's Life and Errors; Autobiography of Edmund Bolinn, privately printed in 1853. This autobiography is, in the highest degree, curious and interesting. Macaulay, History. VII. 11 CHAP. XIX. 1693." CHAP. XIX. 1693 . 162 HISTORY OR ENGLAND. Doubt was impiety. In truth the Icon was to many fervent Royalists a supplementary revelation. One of them indeed had gone so far as to propose that lessons taken out of the inestimable little volume should be read in the churches.* Fraser found it necessary to resign his place; and Nottingham appointed a gentleman of good blood and scanty fortune named Edmund Bohun. This change of men produced an immediate and total change of system: forBohun was as strong aTory as a conscientious man who had taken the oaths could possibly be. He had been conspicuous as a persecutor of nonconformists and a champion of the doctrine of passive obedience. He had edited Filmer’s absurd treatise on the origin of government, and had written an answer to the paper which Algernon Sidney had delivered to the Sheriffs on Tower Hill. Nor did Bohun admit that, in swearing allegiance to William and Mary, he- had done any thing inconsistent with his old creed. For he had succeeded in convincing himself that they reigned by right of conquest, and that it was the duty of an Englishman to serve them as faithfully as Daniel had served Darius or as Nehemiah had served Artaxerxes. This doctrine, whatever peace it might bring to his own conscience, found little favour with any party. The Whigs loathed it as servile: the Jacobites loathed it as revolutionary. Great numbers of Tories had doubtless submitted to "William on the ground that he was, rightfully or wrongfully, King in possession: but very few of them were disposed to allow that his possession had originated in conquest. Indeed the plea which had satisfied the weak and narrow mind of Bohun was a mere fiction, and, had it been a truth, would have been a truth not to be uttered by Englishmen without agonies of shame and mortification.** He however * Vox Cleri, 1C89. ** Bohun was the author of the History of tho Desertion, published immediately after the Revolution. In that work he propounded his favourite- WILLIAM AND MARY. 163 clung to his favourite whimsy with a tenacity which the general disapprobation only made more intense. His old friends, the stedfast adherents of indefeasible hereditary right, grew cold and reserved. He asked Sancroft’s blessing, and got only a sharp word, and a black look. He asked Ken’s blessing; and Ken, though not much in the habit of transgressing the rules of Christian charity and courtesy, murmured something about a little scribbler. Thus cast out by one faction, Bohun was not received by any other. He formed indeed a class apart: for he was at once a zealous Filmerite and a zealous Williamite. He held that pure monarchy, not limited by any law or contract, was the form of government ivhich had been divinely ordained. But he held that William was now the absolute monarch, who might annul the Great Charter, abolish trial by jury, or impose taxes by royal proclamation, without forfeiting the right to be implicitly obeyed by Christian men. As to the rest, Bohun was a man of some learning, mean understanding and unpopular manners. He had no sooner entered on his functions than all Paternoster Row and Little Britain were in a ferment. The Whigs had, under Fraser’s administration, enjoyed almost as entire a liberty as if there had been no censorship. But they were now as severely treated as in the days of Lestrange. A History of the Bloody Assizes was about to be published, and was expected to have as great a run as the Pilgrim’s Progress. But the new licenser refused his Imprimatur. The book, he said, represented rebels and schismatics as heroes and martyrs ; and he would not sanction it for its weight in gold. A charge delivered by Lord Warrington to the grand jury of theory. “For my part,” he says, “I am amazed to see men scruple the submitting to the present King: for, if ever man had ajust cause of war, he had; and that creates a right to the tiling gained by it. The King by withdrawing and disbonding his army yielded him the throne; and if he had, without any more ceremony, ascended it, ho had done no more than all other princes do on the like occasions.” 11 * CHAP. xtx . 16'J3. 164 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CnAP. XIX. 1693 . Cheshire was not permitted to appear, because His Lordship had spoken contemptuously of divine right and passive obedience. Julian Johnson found that, if he wished to promulgate his notions of government, he must again have recourse, as in the evil times of King James, to a secret press.* Such restraint as this, coming after several years of unbounded fi-eedom, naturally produced violent exasperation. Some Whigs began to think that the censorship itself was a grievance: all Whigs agreed in pronouncing the new censor unfit for his post, and were prepared to join in an effort to get rid of him. Of the transactions which terminated in Bohun’s dismission, and which produced the first parliamentary struggle for the ■liberty of unlicensed printing, we have accounts written by Bohun himself and by others: but there are strong reasons for believing that in none of those accounts is the whole truth to be found. It may perhaps not be impossible, even at this distance of time, to put together dispersed fragments of evidence in such a manner as to produce an authentic narrative which would have astonished the unfortunate licenser himself. There was then about town a man of good family, of some reading, and of some small literary talent, named Charles Blount.** In politics he belonged to the extreme section of the Whig party. In the days of the Exclusion Bill he had been one of Shaftesbury’s brisk boys, and had, under the signature of Junius Brutus, magnified the virtues and public services of Titus Oates, and exhorted the Protestants to take signal vengeance on the Papists for the fire of London and for the murder of Godfrey.*** As to the theological questions which * Character of Edmund Bohun, 1692. ** Dryden, in his Life of Lucian, speak3 in too high terms of Blount’s abilities. But Dryden’s judgment was biassed ; for Blount's first work was a pamphlet in defence of the Conquest of Granada. *** See his Appeal from the Country to the City for the Preservation of His Majesty’s Person, Liberty, Property, and the Protestant Religion. ■WILLIAM AND MABY. 165 were in issue between Protestants and Papists, Blount was perfectly impartial. He was an infidel, and the head of a small school of infidels who were troubled with a morbid desire to make converts. He translated from the Latin translation part of the Life of Apollonius of Tyana, and appended to it notes of which the flippant profaneness called forth the severe censure of an unbeliever of a very different order, the illustrious Bayle.* Blount also attacked Christianity in several original treatises, or rather in several treatises purporting to be original; for he was the most audacious of literary thieves, and transcribed, without acknowledgment, whole pages from authors who had preceded him. His delight was to worry the priests by asking them how light existed before the sun was made, how Paradise could be bounded by Pison, Gihon, Hiddekel and Euphrates, how serpents moved before they were condemned to crawl, and where Eve found thread to stitch her figleaves. To his speculations on these subjects he gave the lofty name of the Oracles of Reason; and indeed whatever he said or wrote was considered as oracular by his disciples. Of those disciples the most noted was a bad writer named Gildon, who lived to pester another generation with doggrel and slander, and whose memory is still preserved, not by his own voluminous works, but by two or three lines in which his stupidity and venality have been contemptuously mentioned by Pope. ** Little as either the intellectual or the moral character of Blount may seem to deserve respect, it is in a great measure to him that we must attribute the emancipation of the English press. Between him and the licensers there was a feud of long standing. Before the Revolution one of his heterodox treatises * See the article on Apollonius in Bayle’s Dictionary. I say that Blount made his translation from the Latin; for his works contain abundant proofs that he was not competent to translate from the Greek. ** See Gildon’s edition of Blount’s Works, 1695. CHAP. XIX. 1693 . 16 G HISTORY OF ENGLAND. . had been grievously mutilated by Lestrange, and at last suppressed by orders from Lestrange’s superior the Bishop of London.* Bohun ivas a scarcely less severe critic than Lestrange. Blount therefore began to make war on the censorship and the censor. The hostilities were commenced by a tract which came forth without any license, and which is entitled A Just Vindication of Learning and of theLiberty of thePress,byPhilopatris.** "Whoever reads this piece, and is not aware that Blount was one of the most unscrupulous plagiaries that ever lived, will be surprised to find, mingled with the poor thoughts and poor w'ords of a thirdrate pamphleteer, passages so elevated in sentiment and style that they would be worthy of the greatest name in letters. The truth is that the Just Vindication consists chiefly of garbled extracts from the Areopagitica of Milton. That noble discourse had been neglected by the generation to which it was addressed, had sunk into oblivion, and was at the mercy of every pilferer. The literary workmanship of Blount resembled the architectural workmanship of those barbarians who used the Coliseum and the Theatre of Pompey as quarries, who built hovels out of Ionian friezes and propped cowhouses on pillars of lazulite. Blount concluded, as Milton had done, by recommending that any book might be printed without a license, provided that the name of the author or publisher were registered.*** The Just Vindication was well received. The blow was speedily followed up. There still remained in the Areopagitica many fine passages which Blount had not used in his first * Wood’s Atheme Oxonienses, under the name Henry Blount (Charles Blount’s father), Lestrange’s Obsorvator, No. 290. ** This piece was reprinted by Gildon in 1695 among Blount’s Works. *** That the plagiarism of Blount should have been detected by few of iiis contemporaries is not wonderful. But it is wonderful that in the Bio- graphia Britannica his Just Vindication should be warmly extolled, without the slightest hint that every thing good in it is stolen. The Areopagitica is not the only work which he pillaged on this occasion. He took a noble passage from Bacon without acknowledgment. WILLIAM AND MAET. 167 pamphlet. Out of these passages he constructed a second pamphlet entitled Reasons for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing.* To these Reasons he appended a postscript entitled A Just and True Character of Edmund Boliun. This Character was written with extreme bitterness. Passages were quoted from the licenser’s writings to prove that he held the doctrines of passive obedience and nonresistance. He was accused of using his power systematically for the purpose of favouring the enemies and silencing the friends of the Sovereigns whose bread he ate; and it was asserted that he was the friend and the pupil of his predecessor Sir Roger. Blount’s Character of Bohun could not he publicly sold; but it was widely circulated. While it ivas passing from hand to hand, and while the Whigs were every where exclaiming against the new censor as a second Lestrange, he was requested to authorise the publication of an anonymous work entitled King William and Queen Mary Conquerors.** He readily and indeed eagerly complied. For in truth there was between the doctrines which he had long professed and the doctrines which were propounded in this treatise a coincidence so exact that many suspected him of being the author; norwas this suspicion weakened by a passage in which a compliment was paid to his political writings. But the real author was that very Blount who was, at that very time, labouring to inflame the public both against the Licensing Act and the licenser. Blount’s motives may easily be divined. His own opinions were diametrically opposed to those which, on this occasion, he put forward in the most offensive * I unhesitatingly attribute this pamphlet to Blount, though it was not reprinted among his works by Gildon. If Blount did not actually write it ho must certainly have superintended the writing. That two men of letters, acting without concert, should bring out within a very short time two treatises, one made out of one half of the Areopagitica and the other made out of the other half, is incredible. Why Gildon did not choose to reprint the second pamphlet will appear hereafter. ** Bohan’s Autobiography. 168 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. CHAP, XIX. manner. It is therefore impossible to doubt that his object was to ensnare and to ruin Bohun. It was a base and wicked scheme. But it cannot be denied that the trap was laid and baited with much skill. The republican succeeded in personating a high Tory. The atheist succeeded in personating a high Churchman. The pamphlet concluded with a devout prayer that the God of light and love would open the understanding and govern the will of Englishmen, so that they might see the things which belonged to their peace. The censor was in raptures. In every page he found his own thoughts expressed more plainly than he had ever expressed them. Never before, in his opinion, had the true claim of their Majesties to obedience been so clearly stated. Every Jacobite who read this admirable tract must inevitably be converted. The nonjurors would flock to take the oaths. The nation, so long divided, would at length be united. From these pleasing dreams Bohun was awakened by learning* a few hours after the appearance of the discourse which charmed him, that the titlepage had set all London in a flame, and that the odious W'ords, King William and Queen Mary Conquerors, had moved the indignation of multitudes who had never read further. Only four days after the publication he heard that the House of Commons had taken the matter up, that the book had been'called by some members a rascally book, and that, as the author was unknown, the Serjeant at Arms was in search of the licenser.* Bohun’s mind had never been strong; and he was entirely unnerved and bewildered by the fury and suddenness of the storm which had burst upon him. He went to the House. Most of the members whom he met in the passages and lobbies frowned on him. AVhen he was put to the bar, and, after three profound obeisances, ventured to lift his head and look round him, he could read his doom in the angry and contemptuous looks which were cast on him from every side. He hesitated, * Bohun’s Autobiography; Commons’ Journals, Jan. 20. 169§. WILLIAM AND MASY. 169 blundered, contradicted himself, called the Speaker My Lord, and, by his confused way of speaking, raised a tempest of rude laughter which confused him still more. As soon as he had withdrawn, it was unanimously resolved that the obnoxious treatise should be burned in Palace Yard by the common hangman. It was also resolved, without a division, that the King should be requested to remove Bohun from the office of licenser. The poor man, ready to faint with grief and fear, was conducted by the officers of the House to a place of confinement.* But scarcely was he in his prison wiien a large body of members clamorously demanded amore important victim. Burnet had, shortly after he became Bishop of Salisbury, addressed to the clergy of his diocese a Pastoral Letter, exhorting them to take the oaths. In one paragraph of this letter he held language bearing some resemblance to that of the pamphlet which had just been sentenced to the flames. There were indeed distinctions v'hich a judicious and impartial tribunal w'ould not have failed to notice. But the tribunal before V'hich Burnet was arraigned was neither judicious nor impartial. His faults had made him many enemies, and his virtuds many more. The discontented Whigs complained that he leaned towards the Court, the High Churchmen that he leaned towards the Dissenters ; nor can it be supposed that a man of so' much boldness and so little tact, a man so indiscreetly frank and so restlessly active, had passed through life without crossing the schemes and wounding the feelings of some whose opinions agreed with his. He v r as regarded with peculiar malevolence by Howe. Howe had never, even while he was in office, been in the habit of restraining his bitter and petulant tongue; and he had recently been turned out of office in a way which had made him ungovernably ferocious. The history of his dismission is not accurately known, but it was certainly accompanied by some cir- * Bohun’s Autobiography; Commons’Journals, Jan. 20, 21. 169^. CHAP XIX. ItiiKJ. 170 HISXOliY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIV. 1 ( 33 . cumstances which had cruelly galled his temper. If rumour could be trusted, he had fancied that Mary was in love with him, and had availed himself of an opportunity which offered itself while he was in attendance on her as Vice Chamberlain to make some advances w'hich had justly moved her indignation. Soon after he was discarded, he was prosecuted for having, in a fit of passion, beaten one of his servants savagely within the verge of the palace. He had pleaded guilty, and had been pardoned: but from this time he showed, on every occasion, the most rancorous personal hatred of his royal mistress, of her husband, and of all who were favoured by either. It was known that the Queen frequently consulted Burnet; and Ilowe was possessed with the belief that her severity was to be imputed to Burnet’s influence.* Now was the time to be revenged. In a long and elaborate speech the spiteful Whig — for such he still affected to be — represented Burnet as a Tory of the worst class. “There should be a law',” he said, “making it penal for the clergy to introduce politics into their discourses. Formerly they sought to enslave us by crying up the divine and indefeasible right of the hereditary prince. Now they try to arrive at the same result by telling us that we are a conquered people.” It was moved that the Bishop should be impeached. To this motion there was an unanswerable objection, which the Speaker pointed out. The Pastoral Letter had been written in 1689, and was therefore covered by the Act of Grace which had been passed in 1690. Yet a member was not ashamed to say, “No matter: impeach him; and force him to plead the Act.” Few, however, were disposed to take a course so unworthy of a House of Commons. Some w r ag cried out, “Burn it; burn it;” and this bad pun ran along the benches, and w r as received with shouts of laughter. It wasmoved that thePastoralLetter should * Oldmixon; Narcissus Luttreli’s Diary, Nov. and Dec. 1692; Burnet, ii. 334.; Bohun’s Autobiography. WILLIAM ANI) MAEY. 171 be burned by the' common hangman. A long and vehement debate followed. For Burnet was a man warmly loved as well as warmly hated. The great majority of the Whigs stood firmly by him; and his goodnature and generosity had made him friends even among the Tories. The contest lasted two days. Montague and Finch, men of widely different opinions, appear to have been foremost among the Bishop’s champions. An attempt to get rid of the subject by moving the previous question failed. At length the main question was put; and the Pastoral Letter was condemned to the flames by a small majority in a full house. The Ayes were a hundred and sixty two; the Noes a hundred and fifty five.* The general opinion, at least of the capital, seems to have been that Burnet was cruelly treated.** He was not naturally a man of fine feelings; and the life which he had led had not tended to make them finer. He had been during many years a mark for theological and political animosity. Grave doctors had anathematized him: ribald poets had lampooned him: princes and ministers had laid snares for his life: he had been long a wanderer and an exile, in constant peril of being kidnapped, struck in the boots, hanged and quartered. Yet none of these things had ever seemed to move him. His selfconceit had been proof against ridicule, and his dauntless temper against danger. But on this occasion his fortitude seems to have failed him. To be stigmatized by the popular branch ot the legislature as a teacher of doctrines so servile that they disgusted even Tories, to be joined in one sentence of condemnation with the editor of Filmer, was too much. How deeply Burnet was wounded appeared many years later, when, after his death, his History of his Life and Times * Grey’s Debates; Commons’ Journals,-Jan. 21. 23. 169|; Bohun’s Autobiography; Kennet’s Life and Eeign of King William and Queen Mary. ** “Most men pitying the Bishop.” — Boliun’s Autobiography. CHAP. XIX. 1GU3. 172 HIST011T OP EXGLAIO). was given to the world. In that work he is ordinarily garrulous - even to minuteness about all that concerns himself, and sometimes relates with amusing ingenuousness his own mistakes and the censures which those'mistakes brought upon him. But about the ignominious judgment passed by the House of Com- mous on his Pastoral Letter he has preserved a most significant silence.* The plot which ruined Bohun, though it did no honour to those who contrived it, produced important and salutary effects. Before the conduct of the unlucky licenser had been brought under the consideration of Parliament, the Commons had resolved, without any division, and, as far as appears, without any discussion, that the Act w'hieh subjected literature to a censorship should be continued. But the question had noxv assumed a new aspect; and the continuation of the Act was no longer regarded as a matter of course. A feeling in favour of the liberty of the press, a feeling not yet, it is true, of wide extent or formidable intensity, began to show itself. The existing system, it v'assaid, v r as prejudicial both to commerce and to learning. Could it be expected that any capitalist would advance the funds necessary for a great literary undertaking, or that any scholar would expend years of toil and research on such an undertaking, while it was possible that, at the last moment, the caprice, the malice, the folly of one man might frustrate the whole design? And was it certain that the law which so grievously restricted both the freedom of trade and the * The vote of the Commons is mentioned, with much feeling, in the memoirs which Burnet wrote at the time. “It look’d,” he says, “some- what extraordinary that I, who perhapps was the greatest assertor of publick liberty, from my first setting out, of any writer of the age, should be soe severely treated as an enemy to it. But the truth was the Toryes never liked me, and the Whiggs hated me because I went not into their notions and passions. But even this, and worse things that may happen to me shall not, I hope, be able to make me depart from moderate principles and the just asserting the liberty of mankind.” — Burnet MS. Harl. 6584. ■WILLIAM AND MAEY. 173 freedom of thought had really added to the security of the State? Had not recent experience proved that the licenser- might himself be an enemy of their Majesties, or, worse still, an absurd and perverse friend; that he might suppress a book of which it would be for their interest that every house in the country should have a copy, and that he might readily give his sanction to a libel which tended to make them hateful to their people, and which deserved to be torn and burned by the hand of Ketch? Had the government gained much by establishing a literary police which prevented Englishmen from having the History of the Bloody Circuit, and allowed them, by way of compensation, to read tracts which represented King William and Queen Mary as conquerors? In that age persons who were not specially interested in a public bill very seldom petitioned Parliament against it or for it. The only petitions therefore which were at this conjuncture presented to the two Houses against the censorship came from booksellers, bookbinders and printers.* But the opinion which these classes expressed was certainly not confined to them. The law which was about to expire had lasted eight years. It was renewed for only two years. It appears, from an entry in the Journals of the Commons which unfortunately is defective, that a division took place on an amendment about the nature of which we are left entirely in the dark. The votes were ninety nine to eighty. In the Lords it was proposed, according to the suggestion offered fifty years before by Milton and stolen from him’by Blount, to exempt from the authority of the licenser every book which bore the name of an author or publisher. This amendment was rejected; and the bill passed, but not without a protest signed by eleven peers who declared that they could not think it for the public interest to subject all learning * Commons’Journals, Feb. 27. 169|; Lords’ Journals, Mar. 4. ClIAP. XIX. 174 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. 16113 . State of Ireland. and true information to the arbitrary will and pleasure of a mercenary and perhaps ignorant licenser. Among those who protested were Halifax, Shrewsbury and Mulgrave, three noblemen belonging to different political parties, but all distinguished by their literary attainments. It is to be lamented that the signatures of Tillotson and Burnet, who were both present on that day, should be wanting. Dorset was absent. * Blount, by whose exertions and machinations the opposition to the censorship had been raised, did not live to see that opposition successful. Though not a very young man, he was possessed by an insane passion for the sister of his deceased wife. Having long laboured in vain to convince the object of his love that she might lawfully marry him, he at last, whether from weariness of life, or in the hope of touching her heart, inflicted on himself a wound of which, after languishing long, he died. He has often been mentioned as a blasphemer and self- murderer. But the important service which, by means doubtless most immoral and dishonourable, he rendered to his country, has passed almost unnoticed. ** Late in this busy and eventful session the attention of the * Lords’ Journals, March 8. 169j. ** In the article on Blount in the Biographia Britannica he is extolled as having borne a principal share in the emancipation of the press. But the writer was very imperfectly informed as to the facts. It is strange that the circumstances of Blount’s death should be so uncertain. That he died of a wound inflicted by liis own hand, and that he languished long, arc undisputed facts. The common story was that he shot himself; and Narcissus Luttrcll, at the time, made an entry to this effect in his Diary. On the other hand, Pope, who had the very best opportunities of obtaining accurate information, asserts thatBlount, “being in love with a near kinswoman of his, and rejected, gave himself a stab in the arm, as pretending to kill himself, of the consequence of which ho really died." — Note on the Epilogue to the Satires, Dialogue I. Warbur- ton, who had lived first with the heroes of the Dunciad, and then with the most eminent men of letters of his time, ought to have known the truth; and Warburton, by his silence, confirms Pope’s assertion. Gildon’s rhapsody about the death of his friend will suit either story equally. WILLIAM AND MAKY. 175 Houses was called to the state of Ireland. The government of that kingdom had, during the six months which followed the surrender of Limerick, been in an unsettled state. It was not till the Irish troops who adhered to Sarsfielcl had sailed for France, and till the Irish troops who had made their election to remain at home had been disbanded, that William at length put forth a proclamation solemnly announcing the termination of the civil war. From the hostility of the aboriginal inhabitants, destitute as they now were of chiefs, of arms and of organization, nothing was to be apprehended beyond occasional robberies and murders. But the war cry of the Irishry had scarcely died away when the first faint murmurs of theEnglishry began to be heard. Coningsby was during some months at the head of the administration. He soon made himself in the highest degree odious to the dominant caste. He was an unprincipled man: he was insatiable of riches; and he was in a situation in which riches were easily to be obtained by an unprincipled man. Immense sums of money, immense quantities of military stores had been sent over from England. Immense confiscations were taking place in Ireland. The rapacious governor had daily opportunities of embezzling and extorting; and of those opportunities he availed himself without scruple or shame. This however was not, in the estimation of the colonists, his greatest offence. They might have pardoned his covetousness: but they could not pardon the clemency W'hich he showed to their vanquished and enslaved enemies. His clemency indeed amounted merely to this, that he loved money more than he hated Papists, and that he W'as not unwilling to sell for a high price a scanty measure of justice to some of the oppressed class. Unhappily, to the ruling minority, sore from recent conflict and drunk with recent victory, the subjugated majority w r as as a drove of cattle, or rather as a pack of W'olves. Man acknowledges in the inferior animals no rights inconsistent with his own convenience; and as man chap. xix. HjD.i. 176 mSTOKY OE ENGLAND. CnAP. XTX. J693. deals with the inferior animals the Cromwellian thought himself at liberty to deal with the Homan Catholic. Coningsby therefore drew on himself a greater storm of obloquy by his few good acts than by his many bad acts. The clamour against him was so violent that he xvas removed; and Sidney went over, with the full power and dignity of Lord Lieutenant, to hold a Parliament at Dublin.* * The charges brought against Coningsby will be found in the Journals of the two Houses of the English Parliament. Those charges were, after the lapse of a quarter of a century, versified by Prior, whom Coningsby had treated with great insolence and harshness. I will quote a few stanzas. It will be seen that the poet condescended to imitate the style of the street ballads. “OfNero, tyrant, petty king, Who heretofore did reign In famed Hibernia, I will sing, And in a ditty plain. “The articles recorded stand Against this peerless peer; Search but the archives of the land, You ’ll find them written there.” The story of Gaffney is then related. Coningsby’s speculations are described thus: “Vast quantities of stores did he Embezzle and purloin: Of the King’s stores he kept a key, Converting them to.coin. “The forfeited estates also, Both real and personal, Did with the stores together go. Fierce Cerberus swallow’d all.” The last charge is the favour showrn the Roman Catholics: “ Nero, without the least disguise, The Papists at all times Still favour’d, and their robberies Look’d on as trivial crimes. “The Protestants whom they did rob During his government, Were forced with patience, like good Job, To rest themselves content. “For he did basely them refuse All legal remedy; The Romans still he well did use, Still screen’d their roguery.” WILLIAM AND MARY. 177 But the easy temper and graceful manners of Sidney failed to produce a conciliatory effect. He does not indeed appear to have been greedy of unlawful gain. But he did not restrain with a sufficiently firm hand the crowd of subordinate functionaries whom Coningsby’s example and protection had encouraged to plunder the public and to sell their good offices to suitors. Nor was the new Viceroy of a temper to bear hard on the feeble remains of the native aristocracy. He therefore speedily became an object of suspicion and aversion to the Anglosaxon settlers. His first act was to send out the writs for a general election. The Roman Catholics had been excluded from every municipal corporation: but no law had yet deprived them of the county franchise. It is probable however that not a single Roman Catholic freeholder ventured to approach the hustings. The members chosen were, with few exceptions, men animated by the spirit of Enniskillen and Londonderry, a spirit eminently heroic in times of distress and peril, but too often cruel and imperious in the season of prosperity and power. They detested the civil treaty of Limerick, and were indignant when they learned that the Lord Lieutenant fully expected from them a parliamentary ratification of that odious contract, a contract which gave a licence to the idolatry of the mass, and which prevented good Protestants from ruining their Popish neighbours by bringing civil actions for injuries done during the war. * On the fifth of October 1692 the Parliament met at Dublin in Chichester House. It was very differently composed from the assembly -which had borne the same title in 1689. Scarcely one peer, not one member of the House of Commons, who had sate at the King’s Inns, was to be seen. To the crowd of O’s and Macs, descendants of the old princes of the island, had succeeded * An Account of the Sessions of Parliament in Ireland, 1692, London, 1693. Macaulay, llislory. VII. 12 CHAP. XIX. J6!)3. 178 HISTORY OF EKGRAHD. CIUP. XIX. J 603. men whose names indicated a Saxon origin. A single O, an apostate from the faith of his fathers, and three Macs, evidently emigrants from Scotland, and probably Presbyterians, had seats in the assembly. The Parliament, thus composed, had then less than the powers of the Assembly of Jamaica or of the Assembly of Virginia. Not merely xvas the Legislature which sate at Dublin subject to the absolute control of the Legislature -which sate at Westminster: but a law passed in the fifteenth century, during the administration of the Lord Deputy Poynings, and called by his name, had provided that too bill which had not been considered and approved by the Privy Council of England should be brought into either House in Ireland, and that every bill so considered and approved should be either passed without amendment or rejected.* The session opened with a solemn recognition of the paramount authority of the mother country. The Commons ordered their clerk to read to them the English Act which required them to take the Oath of Supremacy and to subscribe the Declaration against Transubstantiation. Having heard the Act read, they immediately proceeded to obey it. Addresses were then voted which expressed the warmest gratitude and attachment to the King. Two members, who had been untrue to the Protestant and English interest during the troubles, were expelled. Supplies, liberal when compared with the resources of a country devastated by years of predatory war, were voted with eagerness. But the bill for confirming the Act of Settlement was thought to be too favourable to the native gentry, and, as it could not be amended, was with little ceremony rejected. A committee of the whole House resolved that the unjustifiable indulgence with which the Irish had been treated since the battle of the Boyne * The Poynings Act is 10 II. 7. c. 4. It was explained by another Act, WILLIAM AND MAEY. 179 was one of the chief causes of the misery of the kingdom. A Committee of Grievances sate daily till eleven in the evening; ■ and the proceedings of this inquest greatly alarmed the Castle. Many instances of gross venality and knavery on the part of men high in office were brought to light, and many instances also of what was then thought a criminal lenity towards the subject nation. This Papist had been allowed to enlist in the army: that Papist had been allowed to keep a gun: a third had too good a horse: a fourth had been protected against Protestants who wished to bring actions against him for wrongs committed during the years of confusion. The Lord Lieutenant, having obtained nearly as much money as he could expect, determined to put an end to these unpleasant inquiries. He knew, however, that if he quarrelled with the Parliament for treating either peculators or Papists with severity, he should have little support in England. He therefore looked out for a pretext, and was fortunate enough to find one. The Commons had passed a vote which might with some plausibility be repre-* sented as inconsistent with the Poynings statute. Any thing which looked like a violation of that great fundamental law was likely to excite strong disapprobation on the other side of Saint George’s Channel. The Viceroy saw his advantage, and availed himself of it. He went to the chamber of the Lords at Chichester House, sent for the Commons, reprimanded them in strong language, charged them with undutifully and ungratefully encroaching on the rights of the mother country, and put an end to the session.* * The history of this session I have taken from the Journals of the Irish Lords and Commons, from the narratives laid in writing before the English Lords and Commons by members of the Parliament of Ireland, and from a pamphlet entitled a Short Account of the Sessions of Parliament in Ireland, 1G92, London, 1693. Burnet seems to me to have taken a correct view of the dispute, ii, 118. “The English in Ireland thought the government favoured the Irish too much: some said this was the effect of bribery, 12 * CHAP. XJX. JG93. 180 HIS TORT OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. 1693 . The King refuses to pass the Triennial Bill. Those whom he had lectured withdrew full of resentment. The imputation which he had thrown on them was unjust. They had a strong feeling of love and reverence for the land from which they sprang, and looked with confidence for redress to the supreme Parliament. Several of them went to London for the purpose of vindicating themselves and of accusing the Lord Lieutenant. They were favoured with a long and attentive audience, both by the Lords and by the Commons, and were requested to put the substance of what had been said into writing. The humble language of the petitioners, and their protestations that they had never intended to violate the Poynings statute, or to dispute the paramount authority of England, effaced the impression which Sidney’s accusations had made. Both Houses addressed the King on the state of Ireland. They censured no delinquent by name: but they expressed an opinion that there had been gross maladministration, that the public had been plundered, and that the ltoman Catholics had been treated with unjustifiable tenderness. William in reply promised that what was amiss should be corrected. His friend Sidney was soon recalled, and consoled for the loss of the viceregal dignity with the lucrative place of Master of the Ordnance. The government of Ireland was for a time entrusted to Lords Justices, among whom Sir Henry Capel, a zealous Whig, very little disposed to show- indulgence to Papists, had the foremost place. The prorogation drewnigh; and still the fate of the Triennial Bill was uncertain. Some of the ablest ministers thought the bill a good one; and, even had they thought it a bad one, they would probably have tried to dissuade their master from re- whereas others thought it was necessary to keep them safe from the prosecutions of the English, who hated them, and were much sharpened against them. . . . There were also great complaints of an ill administration, chiefly in the revenue, in the pay of the army, and in the embezzling of stores." WILLIAM AND MAHV. 181 jecting it. It was impossible, however, to remove from his mind the impression that a concession on this point would seriously impair his authority. Not relying.on the judgment of his ordinary advisers, he sent Portland to ask the opinion of Sir William Temple. Temple had made a retreat for himself at a place called Moor Park, in the neighbourhood of Farnham. The country round his dwelling was almost a wilderness. His amusement during some years had been to create in the waste v'hat those Dutch burgomasters, among whom he had passed some of the best years of his life, would have considered as a paradise. His hermitage had been occasionally honoured by the presence of the King, who had from a boy known and esteemed the author of the Triple Alliance, and who was well pleased to find, among the heath and furze of the wilds of Surrey, a spot which seemed to be part of Holland, a straight canal, a terrace, rows of clipped trees, and rectangular beds of flowers and potherbs. Portland now repaired to this secluded abode and'consulted the oracle. Temple was decidedly of opinion that thebill ought to pass. He was apprehensive that the reasons whichled him to form this opinion might not be fully and correctly reported to theKing byPortlandpvho was indeed as brave a soldier and as trusty a friend as ever lived,whose natural abilities were not inconsiderable,and who, in some departments of business, had great experience, blit who was very imperfectly acquainted with the history and constitution of England. As the state of Sir William’s health made it impossible for him to go himself to Kensington,he determined to send his secretary thither. The secretary was a poor scholar of four or five and twenty,under whose plain garb and ungainly deportment were concealed some of the choicest gifts that have ever been bestowed on any of the children of men; rare powers of observation, brilliant wit, grotesque invention, humour of the most austere flavour, yet exquisitely delicious, eloquence singularly CHAP. XIX. 1603. 182 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. 1693 . pure, manly and perspicuous. This young man was named Jonathan Swift. He was born in Ireland, but would have thought himself insulted if he had been called an Irishman. He was of unmixed English blood, and, through life, regarded the aboriginal population of the island in which he first drew breath as an alien and a servile caste. He had in the late reign kept terms at the University of Dublin, but had been distinguished there only by his irregularities, and had with difficulty obtained his degree. At the time of the Revolution, he had, with many thousands of his fellow colonists, taken refuge in the mother country from the violence of Tyrconnel, and had thought himself fortunate in being able to obtain shelter at Moor Park.* For that shelter, however, he had to pay a heavy price. He was thought to be sufficiently remunerated for his services with twenty pounds a year and his board. He dined at the second table. Sometimes, indeed, when better company was not to be had, he was honoured by being invited to play at cards ■with his patron; and on such occasions Sir William was so generous as to give his antagonist a little silver to begin with.** The humble student would not have dared to raise his eyes to a lady of family: but, when he had become a clergyman, he began, after the fashion of the clergymen of that generation, to make love to a pretty waitingmaid who was the chief ornament of the servants’ hall, and whose name is inseparably associated with his in a sad and mysterious history. Swift many years later confessed some part of what, he felt when he found himself on his way to Court. His spirit had been bow'eddown, and might seem to have been broken, by calamities and humiliations. The language which he was in the habit of holding to his patron, as far as we can judge from the * As to Swift’s extraction and early life, see the Anecdotes written by himself. ** Journal to Stella, Letter liii. WILLIAM AND MARY. 183 specimens which still remain, was that of a lacquey, or rather of a beggar.* A sharp word or a cold look of the master sufficed to make the servant miserable during several days.** But this tameness was merely the tameness with which a tiger, caught, caged and starved, submits to the keeper who brings him food. The humble menial was at heart the haughtiest, the most aspiring, the most vindictive, the most despotic of men. And now at length a great, a boundless prospect was opening before him. To William he was already slightly known. At Moor Park the King had sometimes, when his host was confined by gout to an easy chair, been attended by the secretary about the grounds. Ilis Majesty had condescended to teach his companion the Hutch way of cutting and eating asparagus, and had graciously asked whether Mr. Swift would like to have a captain’s commission in a cavalry regiment. But noiv for the first time the young man was to stand in the royal presence as a counsellor. He was admitted into the closet, delivered a letter from Temple, and explained and enforced the arguments which that letter contained, concisely, but doubtless with clearness and ability. There was, he said, no reason to think that short Parliaments would be more disposed than long Parliaments to encroach on the just prerogatives of the Crown. In fact the Parliament which had, in the preceding generation, waged war against a king, led him captive, sent him to the prison , to the bar, to the scaffold, was known in our annals as emphatically the Long Parliament. Never would such disasters have befallen the monarchy but for the fatal law which secured that assembly from dissolution.*** There rvas, it must be ou’ned, a flaw in this reasoning which a man less shrew'd than William might easily detect. That one restriction of the royal prerogative had * See Swift’s Letter to Temple of Oct. G. 1694. ** Journal to Stella, Letter xix. *** Swift's Anecdotes. CHAP. XiX. 184 HISTOEY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. 1693 . Minisle- rial arrangements. been mischievous did not prove that another restriction would - be salutary. It by no means followed because one sovereign had been ruined by being unable to get rid of a hostile Parliament that another sovereign might not be ruined by being forced to part with a friendly Parliament. To the great mortification of the ambassador, his arguments failed to shake the King’s resolution. On the fourteenth of March the Commons were summoned to the Upper House: the title of the Triennial Bill was read; and it was announced, after the ancient form, that the King and Queen would take the matter into their consideration. The Parliament was then prorogued. Soon after the prorogation William set out for the Continent. It was necessary that, before his departure, he should make some important changes. Pie was resolved not to discard Nottingham, on whose integrity, a virtue rare among English statesmen, he placed a well founded reliance. Yet, if Nottingham remained Secretary of State, it was impossible to employ Russell at sea. Russell, though much mortified, was induced to accept a lucrative place in the household; and two naval officers of great note in their profession, Killegrew and Delaval, were placed at the Board of Admiralty and entrusted with the command of the Channel Fleet. * These arrangements caused much murmuring among the Whigs: for Killegrew and Delaval were certainly Tories, and were by many suspected of being Jacobites. But other promotions which took place at the same time proved that the King wished to bear himself evenly between the hostile factions. Nottingham had, during a year, been the sole Secretary of State. He was now joined with a colleague in whose society he must have felt himself very ill at ease, John Trenchard. Trenchard belonged to the extreme section of the Whig party. He was a Taunton man, animated by that spirit which had, during two generations, peculiarly * London Gazette, March 27. 1693. WILLIAM AND MAHY. 185 distinguished Taunton. He had, in the days of Popeburnings and of Protestant flails, been one of the renowned Green Riband Club: he had been an active member of several stormy Parliaments: he had brought in the first Exclusion Bill: he had been deeply concerned in the plots formed by the chiefs of the opposition: he had fled to the Continent: he had been long an exile; and he had been excepted by name from the general pardon of 1686 . Though his life had been passed in turmoil, his temper was naturally calm: but he was closely connected with a set of men whose passions were far fiercer than his own. He had married the sister of Hugh Speke, one' of the falsest and most malignant of the libellers who brought disgrace on the cause of constitutional freedom. Aaron Smith, the solicitor of the Treasury, a man in whom the fanatic and the pettifogger were strangely united, possessed too much influence over the new Secretary, with whom he had, ten years before, discussed plans of rebellion at the Hose. Why Trenchard was selected in preference to many men of higher rank and greater ability for a post of the first dignity and importance, it is difficult to say. It seems however that, though he bore the title and drew the salary of Secretary of State, he was not trusted with any of the graver secrets of State, and that he was little more than a superintendent of police, charged to look after the printers of unlicensed books, the pastors of nonjuring congregations , and the haunters of treason taverns. * Another Whig of far higher character was called at the same time to a far higher place in the administration. The Great Seal had now been four years in commission. Since Maynard’s retirement, the constitution of the Court of Chancery had commanded little respect. Trevor, who was the First Commissioner, w'anted neither parts nor learning: hut his integrity * Burnet, ii. 108., and Speaker Onslow’s Note; Sprat’s True Account of the Horrid Conspiracy; Letter to Trenchard, 1694. CHAP, XIX. Hi <137 180 HISTORY OB’ ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. 1G!«. was with good reason suspected; and the duties which, as Speaker of the House of Commons, he had to perform during four or five months in the busiest part of every year, made it impossible for him to be an efficient judge in equity. Every suitor complained that he had to wait a most unreasonable time for a judgment, and that, when at length a judgment had been pronounced, it was very likely to be reversed on appeal. Meanwhile there was no efficient minister of justice, no great functionary to whom it especially belonged to advise the King touching the appointment of Judges, of Counsel for the Crown, of Justices of the Peace.* It was known that William was sensible of the inconvenience of this state of things; and, during several months, there had been flying rumours that a Lord Keeper or a Lord Chancellor would soon be appointed.** The name most frequently mentioned was that of Nottingham. But the same reasons which had prevented him from accepting the Great Seal in 1689 had, since that year, rather gained than lost strength. William at length fixed his choice on Somers. Somers was only in his forty-second year; and five years had not elapsed since, on the great day of the trial of the Bishops, his powers had first been made known to the world. From that time his fame had been steadily and rapidly rising. Neither in forensic nor in parliamentary eloquence had he any superior. The consistency of his public conduct had gained for him the entire confidence of the AVhigs; and the urbanity of his manners had conciliated the Tories. It was not without great reluctance that he consented to quit an assembly over which he exercised an immense influence for an assembly where it would be necessary for him to sit in silence. He had been hut a short time in great practice. His savings were small. * Burnet, ii. 107. ** These rumours are more than once mentioned in Narcissus LuttreH's Diary. WILLIAM AND MARY. 187 Not having the means of supporting a hereditary title, he must, chap. if he accepted the high dignity which was offerecfrto him, pre —- side during some years in the Upper House without taking part in the debates. The opinion of others, however, was that he would be more useful as head of the law than as head of the Whig party in the Commons. He was sent for to Kensington, and called into the Council Chamber. Caermarthen spoke in the name of the King. “Sir John,” he said, “it is necessary for the public service that you should take this charge upon you; and I have it in command from His Majesty to say that he can admit of no excuse.” Somers submitted. The seal was delivered to him, with a patent which entitled him to a pension of two thousand a year from the day on which he should quit his office; and he was immediately sworn in a Privy Councillor and Lord Keeper. * The Gazette which announced these changes in the ad- Tlie k>”b ° goes to ministration, announced also the King’s departure.' He set Holland, out for Holland on the twenty-fourth of March. He left orders that the Estates of Scotland should, after a A session recess of more than two } r ears and a half, be again called to- ment in gether. Hamilton, who had lived many months in retirement, had, since the fall of Melville, been reconciled to the Court, and now consented to quit his retreat, and to occupy Holyrood House as Lord High Commissioner. It was necessary that one of the Secretaries of State for Scotland should be in attendance on the King. The Master of Stair had therefore gone to the Continent. His colleague, Johnstone, was chief manager for the Crown at Edinburgh, and was charged to correspond regularly with Carstairs, who never quitted William.** It might naturally have been expected that the session * London Gazette, March 27. 1693; Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary. ** Burnet, ii. 123.; Carstairs Papers. 188 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CIIAP XIX. 1 ( 193 . would be turbulent. The Parliament was that very Parliament - which had in 1G89 passed, by overwhelming majorities, all the most violent resolutions which Montgomery and his club could frame, which had refused supplies, which had proscribed the ministers of the Crown, which had closed the Courts of Justice, which had seemed bent on turning Scotland into an oligarchical republic. In 1G90 the Estates had been in a better temper. Yet, even in 1690, they had, when the ecclesiastical polity of the realm was under consideration, paid little deference to what was W’ell known to be the royal wish. They had abolished patronage; they had sanctioned the rabbling of the episcopal clergy; they had refused to pass a Toleration Act. It seemed likely that they would still be found unmanageable when questions touching religion came before them; and such questions it was unfortunately necessary to bring forward. William had, during the recess, attempted to persuade the General Assembly of the Church to receive into communion such of the old curates as should subscribe the Confession of Faith and should submit to the government of Synods. But the attempt had failed; and the Assembly had consequently been dissolved by the Lord Commissioner. Unhappily, the Act which established the Presbyterian polity had not defined the extent of the power which was to be exercised by the Sovereign over the Spiritual Courts. No sooner therefore had the dissolution been announced than the Moderator requested permission to speak. He was told that he was now merely a private person. As a private person he requested a hearing, and protested, in the ftame-of his brethren, against the royal mandate. The right, he said, of the office bearers of the Church to meet and deliberate touching her interests was derived from her Divine Head, and was not dependent on the pleasure of the temporal magistrate. His brethren stood up, and by an approving murmur signified their concurrence in what their President WILLIAM AND MARY. 189 had said. Before they retired they fixed a day for their next meeting.* It was indeed a very distant day; and when it came neither minister nor elder attended: for even the boldest members shrank from a complete rupture with the civil power. But, though there was not open war between the Church and the Government, they were estranged from each other, jealous of each other, and afraid of each other. No progress had been made towards a reconciliation when the Estates met; and which side the Estates would take might well be doubted. But the proceedings of this strange Parliament, in almost everyone of its sessions,'falsified all the predictions of politicians. It had once been the most unmanageable of senates. It was now the most obsequious. Yet the old men had again met in the old hall. There were all the most noisy agitators of the club, with the exception of Montgomery, who was dying of want and of a'broken heart in ,a garret far from his native land. There was the canting Boss and the perfidious Annan- dale. There was Sir Patrick Hume, lately created a peer, and henceforth to be called Lord.Polwarth, but still as eloquent as when his interminable declamations and dissertations ruined the expedition of Argyle. But the w'hole spirit of the assembly had undergone a change. The members listened with profound respect to the royal letter, and returned an answer in reverential and affectionate language. An extraordinary aid of a hundred and fourteen thousand pounds sterling was granted to the Crown. Severe laws were enacted against the Jacobites. The legislation on ecclesiastical matters was as Erastian as William himself could have desired. An Act was passed requiring all ministers of the Established Church to swear fealty to their * Register of the Actings or Proceedings of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, held at Edinburgh, Jan. 15. 1(592, collected and extracted from the Records [by the Clerk thereof. This interesting record was printed for the first time in 1852. CHAP. XIX. ttiya. 190 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XIX. 11.93. Majesties, and directing the General Assembly to receive into -communion those Episcopalian ministers, not yet deprived, xvho should declare that they conformed to the Presbyterian doctrine and discipline.* Nay, the Estates carried adulation so far as to make it their humble request to the King that he would be pleased to confer a Scotch peerage on his favourite Portland. This was indeed their chief petition. They did not ask for redress of a single grievance. They contented themselves with hinting in general terms that there were abuses which required correction, and with referring the King for fuller information to his own Ministers, the Lord High Commissioner and the Secretary of State.** There was one subject on which it may seem strange that even the most servile of Scottish Parliaments should have kept silence. More than a year had elapsed since the massacre of Glencoe; and it might have been expected that the whole assembly, peers, commissioners of shires, commissioners of burghs, w’ould with one X'oice have demanded a strict investigation into that great crime. It is certain, howex r er, that no motion for investigation was made. The state of the Gaelic elans w T as indeed taken into consideration. A law was passed for the more effectual suppressing of depredations and outrages beyond the Highland line; and in that law was inserted a special proviso reserving to Mac Callum More his hereditary jurisdiction. But it does not appear, either from the public records of the proceedings of the Estates, or from those private letters in which Johnstone regularly gave Carstairs an account of what had passed, that any speaker made any allusion to the fate of Mac Ian and his kinsmen.*** The only explanation * Act. Pari. Scot., June 12. 1693. ** Act. Pari. Scot., June 15. 1693. *** The editor of the Carstairs Papers was evidently very desirous, from whatever motive, to [disguise this most certain and obvious truth. Ho has WILLIAM AND MARY. 191 of this extraordinary silence seems to be that the public men who were assembled in the capital of Scotland knew little and cared little about the fate of a thieving tribe of Celts. The injured clan, bowed down by fear of the allpowerful Campbells, and little accustomed to resort to the constituted authorities of the kingdom for protection or redress, presented no petition to the Estates. The story of the butchery had been told at coffeehouses, but had been told in different ways. Very recently, one or two books, in which the facts were but too truly related, had come forth from the secret presses of London. But those books were not publicly exposed to sale. They bore the name of no responsible author. The Jacobite writers were, as a class, savagely malignant and utterly regardless of truth. Since the Macdonalds did not complain, a prudent man might naturally be unwilling to incur the displeasure of the' King, of the ministers, and of the most powerful family in Scotland, by bringing forward an accusation grounded on nothing but reports wandering from mouth to mouth, or pamphlets which no licenser had approved, to which no author had put his name, and which no bookseller ventured to place in his shopwindow. But whether this be or be not the true solution, it is certain that the Estates separated quietly after a session of two months, during which, as far as can now be discovered, the name of Glencoe was not once uttered in the Parliament House. therefore prefixed to some of Johnstone’s letters descriptions which may possibly impose on careless leaders. For example, Johnstone wrote to Carstairs on the 18th of April, before it was known that the session would be a quiet one, “All arts have been used and will be used to embroil matters.” The editor’s account of the contents of this letter is as follows: “Arts used to embroil matters with reference to the affair of Glencoe.” Again, Johnstone, in a letter written some weeks later, complained that the liberality and obsequiousness of the Estates had not been duly appreciated. “Nothing,” he says, “is to be done to gratify the X'arliament, I mean that they would have reckoned a gratification." The editor’s account of the contents of this letter is as follows: “ Complains that the Parliament is not to be gratified by an inquiry into the massacre of Glencoe.” CHAP. XIX. 161 ) 3 . 192 21IST0HY OF EXGLAND. CIIAPTEE XX. CHAP. XX. It is now time to relate the events which, since the battle of State of the Court La Hogue, had taken place at Saint Germains. James, after seeing the fleet which was to have convoyed or saint him back to his kingdom burned down to the water edge, had mains, returned in no good humour to his abode near Paris. Misfortune generally made him devout after his own fashion; and he now starved himself and flogged himself till his spiritual guides were forced to interfere.* It is difficult to conceive a duller place than Saint Germains was when he held his Court there; and yet there was scarcely in all Europe a residence more enviably situated than that which the generous Lewis had assigned to his suppliants. The woods were magnificent, the air clear and salubrious, the prospects extensive and cheerful. No charm of rural life was wanting; and the towers of the most superb city of the Continent were visible in the distance. The royal apartments were richly adorned with tapestry and marquetry, vases of silver and mirrors in gilded frames. A pension of more than forty thousand pounds sterling was annually paid to James from the French Treasury. He had a guard of honour composed of some of the finest soldiers in Europe. If he wished to amuse himself with field Sports, he had at his command an establishment far more sumptuous than that which had belonged to him when he was at the head of a great kingdom, an army of huntsmen and fowlers, a vast arsenal of guns, spears, buglehorns and tents, miles of network, staghounds, foxhounds, harriers, packs for * Life of James, ii. 497. WILLIAM AND MAKY. 193 the boar and packs for the wolf, gerfalcons for the heron and haggards for the wild duck. Iiis presence chamber and his antechamber were in outward show as splendid as when he was at Whitehall. He was still surrounded by blue ribands and white staves. But over the mansion and the domain brooded a constant gloom, the effect, partly of bitter regrets and of deferred hopes, but chiefly of the abject superstition which had taken complete possession of his own mind, and which was affected by almost all those who aspired to his favour. His palace wore the aspect of a monastery. There were three places of worship within the spacious pile. Thirty or forty ecclesiastics were lodged in the building; and their apartments were eyed with envy by noblemen and gentlemen who had followed the fortunes of their Sovereign, and who thought it hard that, when there was so much room under his roof, they should be forced to sleep in the garrets of-the neighbouring town. Among the murmurers was the brilliant Anthony Hamilton. He has left us a sketch of the life of Saint Germains, a slight sketch indeed, but not unworthy of the artist to whom we owe the most highly finished and vividly coloured picture of the English Court in the days when the English Court was gayest. He complains that existence was one round of religious exercises; that, in order to live in peace, it was necessary to pass half the day in devotion or in the outward show’ of devotion; that, if he tried to dissipate his melancholy by breathing the fresh air of that noble terrace which looks down on the valley of the Seine, he was driven away by the clamour of a Jesuit who had got hold of some unfortunate Protestant loyalists from England, and was proving to them that no heretic could go to heaven. In general, Hamilton said, men suffering under a common calamity have a strong fellow feeling and are disposed to render good offices to each other. But it was not so at Saint Germains. There all was discord, jealousy, bitterness of spirit. Macaulay, History. VII. 13 CHAP. xx. J i>03. « 194 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. ciiap. Malignity was concealed under the show of friendship and of — piety. All the saints of the royal household were praying for each other and backbiting each other from morning to night. Here and there in the throng of hypocrites might be remarked a man too highspirited to dissemble. But such a man, however advantageously he might have made himself known elsewhere, Avas certain to be treated with disdain by the inmates of that sullen abode.* Such was the Court of James, as described by a Roman Catholic. Yet, however disagreeable that Court may have been to a Roman Catholic, it Avas infinitely more disagreeable to a Protestant. For the Protestant had to endure, in addition to all the dulness of Avhieh the Roman Catholic complained, a croAvd of vexations from Avhieh the Roman Catholic Avas free. In every competition between a Protestant and a Roman Catholic the Roman Catholic Avas-preferred. In eA'ery quarrel between a Protestant and a Roman Catholic the Roman Catholic Avas supposed to be in the right. While the ambitious Protestant looked in vain for promotion, Avhile the dissipated Protestant looked in vain for amusement, the serious Protestant looked in vain for spiritual instruction and consolation. James might, no doubt, easily have obtained permission for those members of the Church of England AA'ho had sacrificed eA'ery thing in his cause to meet privately in some modest oratory, and to receive the eucharistic bread and Avine from the hands of one of their own. clergy: but he did not Avish his residence to be defiled by such impious rites. Doctor Dennis Granville, who had quitted the richest deanery, the richest archdeaconry and one of the richest livings in England, rather than take the oaths, gave mortal offence by asking leave to read prayers to the exiles of his OAAm communion. His request Avas refused; and he Avas so grossly insulted by his master’s chaplains and their retainers * Hamilton’s Zeneyde. WILLIAM AND MAEY. 195 that he was forced to quit Saint Germains. Lest some other Anglican doctor should be equally importunate, James wrote to inform his agents in England that he wished no Protestant divine to come out to him.* Indeed the nonjuring clergy were at least as much sneered at and as much railed at in his palace as in his nephew’s. If any man had a claim to be mentioned with respect at Saint Germains, it was surely Saneroft. Yet it was reported that the bigots who were assembled there never spoke of him but with aversion and disgust. The sacrifice of the first place in the Church, of the first place in the peerage, of the mansion at Lambeth and the mansion at Croydon, of immense patronage and of a revenue of more than five thousand a year was thought but a poor atonement for the great crime of having modestly remonstrated against the unconstitutional Declaration of Indulgence. Saneroft was pronounced to be just such a traitor and just such a penitent as Judas Iscariot. The old hypocrite had, it was said, while affecting reverence and love for his master, given the fatal signal to his master’s enemies. When the mischief had been done and could not he repaired, the conscience of the sinner had begun to torture him. He had, like his prototype, blamed himself and bemoaned himself. He had, like his prototype, flung down his wealth at the feet of those whose instrument he had been. The best thing that he could now do was to make the parallel complete by hanging himself.** James seems to have thought that the strongest proof of * A View of the Court of St, Germains from the Year 1690 to 1695, 1696; Ratio Ultima, 1097. In the Nairnc Papers is a letter in which the nonjuring bishops are ordered to send a Protestant divine to Saint Germains. This letter was speedily followed by another letter revoking the order. Both letters will be found in Macpherson's collection. They both bear date Oct. 16. 1693. I suppose that the first letter was dated according to the New Style and the letter of revocation according to the Old Style. ** Ratio Ultima, 1697; History of the late Parliament, 1699. ia* CHAP. XX. J693. 19G HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. 1U93. Feeling of the Jacobites. Compounders. kindness "which he could give to heretics who had resigned wealth, country, family, for his sake, was to suffer them to be beset, on their dying beds, by his priests. If some sick man, helpless in body and in mind, and deafened by the din of bad logic and bad rhetoric, suffered a wafer to be thrust into his mouth, a great work of grace was triumphantly announced to the Court; and the neophyte was buried with all the pomp of religion. But if a royalist, of the highest rank and most stainless character, died professing firm attachment to the Church of England, a hole was dug in the fields; and, at dead of night, he "was flung into it and covered up like a mass of carrion. Such were the obsequies of the Earl of Dunfermline, who had served the House of Stuart with the hazard of his life and to the utter ruin of his fortunes, who had fought at Ivilliecrankie, and who had, after the victory, lifted from the earth the still breathing remains of Dundee. While living he had been treated with contumely. The Scottish officers who had long served under him had in vain entreated that, when they were formed into a company, he might still be their commander. His religion had been thought a fatal disqualification. A worthless adventurer, whose only recommendation was that he was a Papist, was preferred. Dunfermline continued, during a short time, to make his appearance in the circle which surrounded the Prince whom he had served too well; but it was to no purpose. The bigots who ruled the Court refused to the ruined and expatriated Protestant Lord the means of subsistence: he died of a broken heart; and they refused him even a grave.* The insults daily offered at Saint Germains to the Protestant religion produced a great effect in England. The Whigs * View of the Court of Saint Germains from 3600 to 1605. That Dunfermline was grossly ill used is plain even from the Memoirs of Dundee, 37H. WILLIAM AXI) MARY. 197 triumphantly asked whether it were not clear that the old tyrant chap. was utterly incorrigible; and many even of the nonjurors ob—^— served his proceedings with shame, disgust and alarm.* The Jacobite party had, from the first, been divided into two sections , which, three or four years after the Revolution, began to be known as the Compounders and the Noncompounders. The Compounders were those who wished for a restoration, but for a restoration accompanied by a general amnesty, and by guarantees for the security of the civil and ecclesiastical constitution of the realm. The Noncompounders thought it downright IVhiggery, downright rebellion, to take advantage of His Majesty’s unfortunate situation for the purpose of imposing on him any condition. The plain duty of his subjects was to bring him back. What traitors he would punish and what traitors he would spare, what laws he would observe and with what laws he would dispense, were questions to be decided by himself alone. If he decided them wrongly, he must answer for his fault to heaven and not to his people. The great body of the English Jacobites were more or less Noncom- - ° pounders. Compounders. Ihe pure Aoncompounders were chiefly to be found among the Roman Catholics, who, very naturally, were not solicitous to obtain any security for a religion which they thought heretical, or for a polity from the benefits of which they were excluded. There were also some Protestant nonjurors , such as ICettlewell and Ilickes, who resolutely followed the theory of Filmer to all the extreme consequences to which it * So early as the year 1G90, that conclave of the loading Jacobites which gave Preston his instructions made a strong representation to James on this subject. “lie must overrule the bigotry of Saint Germains, and dispose their minds to think of those methods that are more likely to gain the nation. For there is one silly thing or another daily done there, that comes to our notice here, which prolongs what they so passionately desire." See also A Short and True Relation of Intrigues transacted both at Home and Abroad to restore the late King James, 1G94. r a 198 HISTOKY OE ENGLAND. chap. led. But, though Kettlewell tried to convince his countrymen - — that monarchical government had been ordained by God, not as a means of making them happy here, but as a cross which it was their duty to take up and bear in the hope of being recompensed for their sufferings hereafter, and though Hickes assured them that there was not a single Compounder in the whole Theban legion, very few churchmen were inclined to run the risk of the gallows merely for the purpose of reestablishing the High Commission and the Dispensing Power. The Compounders formed the main strength of the Jacobite party in England: but the Noncompounders had hitherto had undivided sway at Saint Germains. No Protestant, no moderate Homan Catholic, no man who dared to hint that any law could bind the royal prerogative, could hope for the smallest mark of favour from the banished King. The priests and the apostate Melfort, the avowed euemy of the Protestant religion and of civil liberty, of Parliaments, of trial by jury and of the Habeas ( Corpus Act, were in exclusive possession of the royal ear. Herbert was called Chancellor, walked before the other officers of state, wore a black robe embroidered with gold, and carried a seal: but he was a member of the Church of England; and therefore he was not suffered to sit at the Council Board.* The truth is that the faults of James’s head and heart were incurable. In his view there could be between him and his subjects no reciprocity of obligation. Their duty was to risk property, liberty, life, in order to replace him on the throne, and then to bear patiently whatever he chose to inflict upon them. * View of the Court of Saint Germains. The account given in this View is confirmed by a remarkable paper, which is among the Nairne MSS. Some of the heads of the Jacobite party in England made a representation to James , one article of which is as follows : “They beg that Y'our Majesty would be pleased to admit of the Chancellor of England into your Council: your enemies take advantage of his not being in it.” James's answer is evasive. “The King will be, on all occasions, ready to express the just value and esteem he has for his Lord Chancellor.” WILLIAM AND MART. 199 They could no more pretend to merit before him than before God. When they had done all, they were still unprofitable ■ servants. The highest praise due to the royalist who shed his blood on the field of battle or on the scaffold for hereditary monarchy was simply that he was not a traitor. After all the severe discipline which the deposed King had undergone, he was still as much bent on plundering and abasing the Church of England as on the day when he told the kneeling fellows of Magdalene to get out of his sight, or on the day when he sent the Bishops to the Tower. He was in the habit of declaring that he would rather die without seeing England again than stoop to capitulate with those whom he ought to command.* In the Declaration of April 1692 the whole man appears without disguise, full of his own imaginary rights, unable to understand how any body but himself can have any rights, dull, obstinate and cruel. Another paper which he drew' up about the same time shows, if possible, still more clearly, how little he had profited by a sharp experience. In that paper he set forth the plan according to which he intended to govern when he should be restored. He laid it down as a rule that one Commissioner of the Treasury, one of the two Secretaries of State, the Secretary at "War, the majority of the Great Officers of the Household, the majority of the Lords of the Bedchamber, the majority of the officers of the army, should ahvays be Roman Catholics.** It was to no purpose that the most eminent Compounders sent from London letter after letter filled with judicious counsel and earnest supplication. It was to no purpose that they demonstrated in the plainest manner the impossibility of establishing Popish ascendency in a country whore at least forty nine fiftieths of thepopulation and muchmore than forty nine fiftieths * A short and true Relation of Intrigues, 1694. ** See tile paper headed “For my Son the Prince of Wales , 1092.” It is printed at the end of the Life of James. CHAP. XX. 1693 . 200 IIISTOHY OP ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. 1693 . of the wealth and the intelligence were Protestant. It was to - no purpose that they informed their master that the Declaration of April 1692 had been read with exultation by his enemies and with deep affliction by his friends, that it had been printed and circulated by the usurpers, that it had done more than all the libels of the "Whigs to inflame the nation against him, and that it had furnished those naval officers who had promised him support with a plausible pretext for breaking faith with him, and for destroying the fleet which was to have convoyed him back to his kingdom. lie continued to be deaf to the remonstrances of his best friends in England till those remonstrances began to be echoed at Versailles. All the information which Lewis and his ministers were able to obtain touching the state of our island satisfied them that James would never be restored unless he could bring himself to make large concessions to his subjects. It was therefore intimated to him, kindly and courteously, but seriously, that he would do well to change his counsels and his counsellors. France could not continue the war for the purpose of forcing a Sovereign on an unwilling nation. She was crushed by public burdens. Her trade and industry languished. Her harvest and her vintage had failed. The peasantry were starving. The faint murmurs of the provincial Estates began to be heard. There was a limit to the amount of the sacrifices which the most absolute prince could demand from those whom he ruled. However desirous the Most Christian King might be to uphold the cause of hereditary monarchy and of pure religion all over the world, his first duty was to his own kingdom; and, unless a counterrevolution speedily took place in England, his duty to his own kingdom might impose on him the painful necessity of treating with the Prince of Orange. It would therefore be wise in James to do without delay whatever he could honourably and conscientiously do to win back the hearts of his people. •WILLIAM AND HAEY. 201 Thus pressed, James unwillingly yielded. He consented to give a share in the management of his affairs to one of the most distinguished of the Compounders, Charles Earl of Middleton. Middleton’s family and his peerage were Scotch. But he was closely connected with some of the noblest houses of England: he had resided long in England: he had been appointed by Charles the Second one of the English Secretaries of State, and had been entrusted by James with the lead of the English House of Commons. His abilities and acquirements were considerable : his temper ivas easy and generous: his manners w'ere popular; and his conduct had generally been' consistent and honourable. He had, when Popery was in the ascendant, resolutely refused to purchase the royal favour by apostasy. Roman Catholic ecclesiastics had been sent to convert him; and the towm had been much amused by the dexterity with w'hich the layman baffled the divines. ’ A priest undertook to demonstrate the doctrine of transubstantiation, and made the approaches in the usual form. “Your Lordship believes in the Trinity.” “Who told you so?” said Middleton. “Not believe in the Trinity!” cried the priest in amazement. “Nay,” said Middleton; “prove your religion to be true if you can: but do not catechize me about mine.” As it w'as plain that the Secretary was not a disputant whom it was easy to take at an advantage, the controversy ended almost as soon as it began.* When fortune changed, Middleton adhered to the cause of hereditary monarchy v'ith a stedfastness which w'as the more respectable because he V'ould have had no difficulty in making his peace with the new government. His sentiments were so well known that, when the kingdom was agitated by apprehensions of an invasion and an insurrection, he was arrested and sent to the Tower: but no evidence on which he could be convicted of treason W'as discovered; * Burnet, i. 683. CIIAP. XX. 1693 . Change of ministry at Saint Germains : Middle- ton. 202 HISTORY OE ENGLAND. chap, and, when the dangerous crisis w r as past, he was set at liberty. — It should seem indeed that, during the three years which followed the Revolution, he w'as by no means an active plotter. He saw that aRestoration could be effected only with the general assent of the nation, and that the nation would never assent to aRestoration without securities against Popery and arbitrary power. He therefore conceived that, while his banished master obstinately refused to give such securities, it would be worse than idle to conspire against the existing government. Such was the man whom James, in consequence of strong representations from Versailles, now invited to join him in Prance. The great body of Compounders learned with delight that they were at length to be represented in the Council at Saint Germains by one of their favourite leaders. Some noblemen and gentlemen, who, though they had not approved of the deposition of James, had been so much disgusted by his perverse and absurd conduct that they had long avoided all connection with him, now began to hope that he had seen his error. They had refused to have any thing to do with Melfort; but they communicated freely with Middleton. The new' minister conferred also with the four traitors whose infamy has been made preeminently conspicuous by their station, their abilities, and their great public services; with Godolphin, the great object of whose life w r as to be in favour with both the rival Kings at once, and to keep, through all revolutions and counterrevolutions, his head, his estate and a place at the Board of Treasury; V'ith Shrewsbury, who, having once in a fatal moment entangled himself in criminal and dishonourable engagements, had not had the resolution to break through them; with Marlborough, who continued to profess the deepest repentance for the past and the best intentions for the future; and with Russell, who declared that he was still what he had been before the day of La Hogue, and renewed his promise to do what Monk had done, "WILLIAM AXD MARY. 203 on condition that a general pardon should be granted to all political offenders, and that the royal power should be placed- under strong constitutional restraints. Before Middleton left England he had collected the sense of all the leading Compounders. They were of opinion that there was one expedient which would reconcile contending factions at home, and lead to the speedy pacification of Europe. This expedient was that Tames should resign the Crown in favour of the Prince of Wales, and that the Prince of Wales should be bred a Protestant. If, as was but too probable, His Majesty should refuse to listen to this suggestion, he must at least consent to put forth a Declaration which might do away the unfavourable impression made by his Declaration of the preceding spring. A paper such as it was thought expedient that he should publish was carefully drawn up, and, after much discussion, approved. Early in the year 1G93, Middleton, having been put in full possession of the views of the principal English Jaeobites, stole across the Channel, and made his appearance at the Court of James. There was at that Court no want of slanderers and sneerers whose malignity was only the more dangerous because it wore a meek and sanctimonious air. Middleton found, on his arrival, that numerous lies, fabricated by the priests who feared and hated him, were already in circulation. Some Noncompounders too had written from London that he was at heart a Presbyterian and a republican. He was however very graciously received, and was appointed Secretary of State conjointly with Melfort.* * As to tins change of ministry at Saint Germains see the very curious but very confused narrative in the Life of James, ii. 498—515.; Burnet, ii. 219.; Memoires do Saint Simon; A I'rench Conquest neither desirable nor practicable, 1693; and the Letters from the Nairne MSS. printed by Macphcrson. CHAP. XX. TdiTaT' 204 niSIOHY OP ENGLAND. cnAP. It very soon appeared that James was fully resolved never to l6M ' — resign the Crown, or to suffer the Prince of "Wales to be bred a New ne- heretic; and it long seemed doubtful whether any arguments or put forth entreaties would induce him to sign the Declaration which his lij James. f r i en( j s j n England had prepared. It was indeed a document very different from any that had yet appeared under his Great Seal. He was made to promise that he would grant a free pardon to all his subjects who should not oppose him after he should land in the island; that, as soon as he was restored, he would call a Parliament; that he would confirm all such laws, passed during the usurpation, as the Houses should tender to him for confirmation; that he would waive his right to the chimney money; that he would protect and defend the Established Church in the enjoyment of all her possessions and privileges; that he would not again violate the Test Act; that he would leave it to the legislature to define the extent of his dispensing power; and that he would maintain the Act of Settlement in Ireland. He struggled long and hard. He pleaded his conscience. Could a son of the Holy Roman Catholic and Apostolic Church bind himself to protect and defend heresy, and to enforce a law which excluded true believers from office? Some of the ecclesiastics who swarmed in his household told him that he could not without sin give any such pledge as his undutiful subjects demanded. On this point the opinion of Middleton, who was a Protestant, could be of no weight. But Middleton found an ally in one whom he regarded as a rival and an enemy. Melfort, scared by the universal hatred of which he knew himself to be the object, and afraid that he should be held accountable, both in England and in France, for his master’s wrongheadedness, submitted the case to several eminent Doctors of the Sorbonne. These learned casuists pronounced the Declaration unobjectionable in a religious point of view. The great WILLIAM AND MARI’. 205 Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux, who was regarded by the Galliean Church as a father scarcely inferior in authority to Cyprian or Augustin, showed, by powerful arguments, both theological and political, that the scruple which tormented James was precisely of that sort against which a much wiser King had given a caution in the words, “Be not righteous overmuch.”* The authority of the French divines W'as supported by the authority of the French government. The language held at Versailles was so strong that James began to be alarmed. "What if Lewis should take serious offence, should think his hospitality ungratefully requited, should conclude a peace with the usurpers, and should request his unfortunate guests to seek another asylum? It was necessary to submit. On the seventeenth of April 1693 the Declaration was signed and sealed. The concluding sentence was a prayer. “We come to vindicate our own right and to establish the liberties of our people; and may God give us success in the prosecution of the one as we sincerely intend the confirmation of the other!”** The prayer was heard. The success of James was strictly proportioned to his sincerity. "What his sincerity was we know on the best evidence. Scarcely had be called on heaven to witness the truth of his professions, when he directed Melfort to send a copy of the Declaration to Rome with such explanations as might satisfy the Pope. Melfort’s letter ends thus: “After all, the object of this Declaration is only to get us back to England. * Life of James, ii. 509. Bossuet’s opinion will be found in the Appendix to M. Mazure’s history. The Bishop sums up his arguments thus: “Je dirai done volontiers aux Catholiques, s’il y on a qui n’approuvent point la declaration dont ii s’agit; Noli esse justus multum; ncque plus sapias quam nccessc est, ne obstupescas.” In the Life of Jame3 it is asserted that the French Doctors changed their opinion, and that Bossuet, though he held out longer than the rest, saw at last that he had been in error, but did not choose formally to retract. I think much too highly of Bossuet’s understanding to believe this. ** Life of James, ii. 505. CHAP. XX. 1(JU3. 206 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX, UiD3. Effect Of the new Declaration. We shall fight the battle of the Catholics -with much greater advantage at Whitehall than at Saint Germains.”* Meanwhile the document from which so much was expected had been despatched to London. There it was printed at a secret press in the house of a Quaker: for there was among the Quakers a party, small in number, but zealous and active, which had imbibed the politics of William Penn.** To circulate such a work was a service of some danger: but agents were found. Several persons were taken up while distributing copies in the streets of the city. A hundred packets were stopped in one day at the Post Office on their way to the fleet. But, after a short time, the government wisely gave up the endeavour to suppress what could not be suppressed, and published the Declaration at full length, accompanied by a severe commentary. *** The commentary, however, was hardly needed. The Declaration altogether failed to produce the effect which Middleton had anticipated. The truth is that his advice had not been asked till it mattered not what advice he gave. If James had put forth such a manifesto in January 1G89, the throne would probably not have been declared vacant. If he had put forth such a manifesto when he was on the coast of Normandy at the head of an army, he would have conciliated a large part of the nation, and he might possibly have been joined by a large part of the fleet. But both in 1G89 and in 1692 he had held the language of an implacable tyrant; and it was now too late to * “En fm celle cy —j’entends la ddclaration — li’est quo pour rentrer; ct Ton pout beaucoup mieux disputer des affaires dcs Catholiques h Whyt- liall qti’a Saint Germain.” — Mazure, Appendix. ** Baden to the States General, June^. 1693. Four thousand copies, wet from the press, were found in this house. *** Baden’s Letters to the States General of May and June 3693; An Answer to the Late King James’s Declaration published at Saint Germains, 1693. WIIXIAM AND MART. 207 affect tenderness of heart and reverence for the constitution of the realm. The contrast between the new Declaration and the preceding Declaration excited, not without reason, general suspicion and contempt. "VVhat confidence could be placed in the word of a Prince so unstable, of a Prince who veered from extreme to extreme ? In 1692 nothing would satisfy him but the heads and quarters of hundreds of poor ploughmen and boatmen who had, several years before, taken some rustic liberties with him at which his grandfather Henry the Fourth would have had a hearty laugh. In 1693 the foulest and most ungrateful treasons were to be covered with oblivion. Caermarthen expressed the general sentiment. “I do not,” he said, “understand all this. Last April I was to be hanged. This April I am to have a free pardon. I cannot imagine what I have done during the past year to deserve such goodness.” The general opinion was that a snare was hidden under this unwonted clemency, this unwonted respect for law. The Declaration, it was said, was excellent; and so was the Coronation oath. Every body knew how King James had observed his Coronation oath; and every body might guess how he would observe his Declaration. While grave men reasoned thus, the Whig jesters were not sparing of their pasquinades. Some of the Noncom- pounders, meantime, uttered indignant murmurs. TheKingwas in bad hands, in the hands of men who hated monarchy. His mercy was cruelty of the worst sort. The general pardon which he had granted to his enemies was in truth a general proscription of his friends. Hitherto the Judges appointed by the usurper had been under a restraint, imperfect indeed, yet not absolutely nugatory. They had known that a day' of reckoning might come, and had therefore in general dealt tenderly with the persecuted adherents of the rightful King. That restraint His Majesty had now taken away. lie had told Holt andTreby CHAP xx. 1633 . 208 HISTOEY OF ENfiEAKD. CHAP. XX. 1G93. that, till he should land in England, they might hang royalists without the smallest fear of being called to account.* But by no class of people was the Declaration read with so much disgust and indignation as by the native aristocracy of Ireland. This then was the reward of their loyalty. This was the faith of kings. When England had cast James out, when Scotland had rejected him, the Irish had still been true to him; and he had, in return, solemnly given his sanction to a law which restored to them an immense domain of which they had been despoiled. Nothing that had happened since that time had diminished their claim to his favour. They had defended his cause to the last: they had fought for him long after he had deserted them: many of them, when unable to contend longer against superior force, had followed him into banishment; and now it appeared that he was desirous to make peace with his deadliest enemies at the expense of his most faithful friends. There was much discontent in the Irish regiments which were dispersed through the Netherlands and along the frontiers of Germany and Italy. Even the Whigs allowed that, for once, the O’s and Macs were in the right, and asked triumphantly whether a prince who had broken his word to his devoted servants could be expected to keep it to his foes?** * James, ii. 514. I am unwilling to believe that Ken was among those who blamed the Declaration of 1693 as too merciful. ** Among the Nairne Papers is a letter sent on this occasion by Middleton to Macarthy, who was then serving in Germany. Middleton tries to sooth Macarthy and to induce Macarthy to sooth others. Nothing more disingenuous was ever written by a Minister of State. “The King,” says the Secretary, “promises in the foresaid Declaration to restore the Settlement, but, at the same time, declares that he will recompense all those who may suffer by it by giving them equivalents.” Now James did not declare that he would recompense any body, but merely that he would advise with his Parliament on the subject. He did not declare that ho would even adviso with his Parliament about recompensing all who might suffer, but merely about recompensing such as had followed him to the last. Finally he said nothing about equivalents. Indeed the notion of WILLIAM AND MART. 209 While the Declaration was the subject of general conversa- chap. tion in England, military operations recommenced on the Con—^— tinent. The preparations of France had been such as amazed Frcnch even those who estimated most highly her resources and the pycpor.- abilities of her rulers. Both her agriculture and her commerce Hie cam- were suffering. The vineyards of Burgundy, the interminable pa '° n ‘ cornfields of the Beauce, had failed to yield their increase: the looms of Lyons were silent; and the merchant ships were rotting in the harbour of Marseilles. Yet the monarchy presented to its numerous enemies a front more haughty and more menacing than'ever. Lewis had determined not to make any advance towards a reconciliation with the new government of England till the whole strength of his realm had been put forth in one more effort. A mighty effort in truth it was, but too exhausting to be repeated. He made an immense display of force at once on the Pyrenees and on the Alps, on the Rhine and on the Meuse, in the Atlantic and in the Mediterranean. That nothing institu- might be wanting which could excite the martial ardour of a ‘border nation eminently highspirited, he instituted, a few days before Lewis" 1 he left his palace for the camp, a new military order of knighthood , and placed it under the protection of his own sainted ancestor and patron. The new cross of Saint Lewis shone on the breasts of the gentlemen who had been conspicuous in the trenches before Mons and Namur, and on the fields of Fleurus giving an equivalent to every body who suffered by the Act of Settlement, in other words, of giving an equivalent for the fee simple of half the soil of Ireland, was obviously absurd. Middleton’s fetter will be found in Mac- pherson’s collection. I will give a sample of the language held by the Whigs on this occasion. “The Roman Catholics of Ireland,” says one writer, “although in point of interest and profession different from us, yet, to do them right, have deserved well from the late King, though ill from ns; and for the late King to lcavo them and exclude them is such an instance of uncommon ingratitude that Protestants have no reason to stand by a Prince that deserts his own party, and a people that have been faithful to him and his interest to the very last.” — A short and true Relation of the Intrigues, #c., 1694. Macaulay, History . VII. u 210 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. 1693 . Middle- ton’s account of Versailles. and Steinkirk; and the sight raised a generous emulation among those who had still to win an honourable fame in arms.* In the rveek in which this celebrated order began to exist Middleton visited Versailles. A letter in w'hich he gave his friends in England an account of his visit has come down to us.** He W’as presented to Lewis, was most kindly received, and was overpowered by gratitude and admiration. Of all the wonders of the Court, —■ so Middleton wrote, — its master was the greatest. The splendour of the great King’s personal merit threw even the splendour of his fortunes into the shade. The language which His Most Christian Majesty held about English politics was, on the whole, highly satisfactory. Yet in one thing this accomplished prince and his able and experienced ministers were strangely mistaken. They were all possessed with the absurd notion that the Prince of Orange was a great man. No pains had been spared to undeceive them; but they were under an incurable delusion. They saw through a magnifying glass of such power that the leech appeared to them a leviathan. It ought to have occurred to Middleton that possibly the delusion might be in his own vision and not in theirs. Lewis and the counsellors who surrounded him were far indeed from loving William. But they did not hate him with that mad hatred which raged in the breasts of his English enemies. Middleton was one of the wisest and most moderate of the Jacobites. Yet even Middleton’s judgment was so much darkened by malice that, on this subject, he talked nonsense unworthy of his capacity. He, like the rest of his party, could see in the usurper nothing but what was odious and contemptible, the heart of a fiend, the understanding and manners of a stupid, * The edict of creation was registered by the Parliament of Paris on the 10th of April 1693. ** The letter is dated the 19th of April 1G93. It is among the Nairne MSS., and was printed by Macpherson. WILLIAM AND MARY. 211 brutal, Dutch boor, who generally observed a sulky silence, and, when forced to speak, gave short testy answers in bad English. The French statesmen, on the other hand, judged of William’s faculties from an intimate knowledge of the way in which he had, during twenty years, conducted affairs of the greatest moment and of the greatest difficulty. He had, ever since 1673, been playing against themselves a most complicated game of mixed chance and skill for an immense stake: they were proud, and with reason, of their own dexterity at that game; yet they were conscious that in him they had found more than their match. At the commencement' of the long contest every advantage had been on their side. They had at their absolute command all the resources of the greatest kingdom in Europe; and he was merely the servant of a commonwealth, of which the whole territory was inferior in extent to Normandy or Guienne. A succession of generals and diplomatists of eminent ability had been opposed to him. A powerful faction in his native country had pertinaciously crossed his designs. He had undergone defeats in the field and defeats in the senate: but his wisdom and firmness had turned defeats into victories. Notwithstanding all that could be done to keep him down, his influence and fame had been almost constantly rising and spreading. The most important and arduous enterprise in the history of modern Europe had been planned and conducted to a prosperous termination by him alone. The most extensive coalition that the world had seen for ages had been formed by him, and would be instantly dissolved if his superintending care were withdrawn. He had gained two kingdoms by statecraft, and a third by conquest; and he was still maintaining himself in the possession of all three in spite of both foreign and domestic foes. That these things had been effected by a poor creature, a man of the most ordinary capacity, was an assertion which might easily find credence among the nonjuring parsons who congre- 14 * CHAP. XX. 212 HISTOKY OF ENGLAND. chap, gated at Sam’s Coffeehouse, but which moved the laughter of --j|h— the veteran politicians of Versailles. William’s While Middleton was in vain trying to convince the French tS’for that William w-as a greatly overrated man, William, W’ho' did pa?4 am ~ full justice to Middleton’s merit, felt much uneasiness at learning that the Court of Saint Germains had called in the help of so able a counsellor.* But this was only one of a thousand causes of anxiety which during that spring pressed on the King’s mind. He w’as preparing for the opening of the campaign, imploring his allies to be early in the field, rousing the sluggish, haggling with the greedy, making up quarrels, adjusting points of precedence. He had to prevail on the Cabinet of Vienna to send timely succours into Piedmont. He had to keep a vigilant eye on those Northern potentates who were trying to form a third party in Europe. He had to act as tutor to the Elector of Bavaria in the Netherlands. He had to provide for the defence of Liege, a matter which the authorities of Liege coolly declared to be not at all their business, but the business of England and Holland. He had to prevent the House of Brunswick Wolfen- buttel from going to blows with the House of Brunswick Lunenburg: he had to accommodate a dispute between the Prince of Baden and the Elector of Saxony, each of whom wished to be at the head of an army on the Rhine; and he had to manage the Landgrave of Hesse, who omitted to furnish his own contingent, and yet wanted to command the contingents furnished.by other princes. ** * “II ne me pluit nullement que M. Middleton est alltf en France. Ce n’est pas un homme qui voudroit faire un tel pas sans quelque chose d’im- portance, et do bien concert^, sur quoy j’ay fait beaucoup de reflections quc je reserve a vous dire a vostre heurcuse arrivde. 1 ’ — William to Portland from Loo, April £$•. 1693. ** The best account of William’s labours and anxieties at this time is contained in his letters to Heinsius — particularly the letters of May 1. 9. •WILLIAM AND M AllY. 213 And now the time for action had arrived. On the eighteenth chap. of May Lewis left Versailles: early in June he was under the ■ , 693 walls of Namur. The Princesses, who had accompanied him, Lewis held their court within the fortress. He took under his im- is e id. mediate command the army of Boufflers, wdrieh was encamped at Gembloux. Little more than a mile off lay the army of Luxemburg. The force collected in that neighbourhood under the French lilies did not amount to less than a hundred and twenty thousand men. Lewis had flattered himself that he should be able to repeat in 1693 the stratagem by which Mons had been taken in 1691 and Namur in 1692; and he had determined that either Liege or Brussels should be his prey. But William had this year been able to assemble in good time a force, inferior indeed to that which was opposed to him, but still formidable. With this force he took his post near Louvain, on the road between the two threatened cities, and watched every movement of the enemy. Lewis was disappointed. He fount} that it w'ould not be Lewis possible for him to gratify his vanity so safely and so easily as in ver- the two preceding years, to sit down before a great town, to sallIes - enter the gates in triumph, and to receive the keys, without exposing himself to any risk greater than that of a staghunt at Fontainebleau. Before he could lay siege either to Liege or to Brussels he must fight and win a battle. The chances were indeed greatly in his favour: for his army was more numerous, better officered and better disciplined than that of the allies. Luxemburg strongly ‘advised him to march against William. The aristocracy of France anticipated with intrepid gaiety a bloody but a glorious day, followed by a large distribution of the crosses of the new order. William himself was perfectly aw’are of his danger, and prepared to meet it with calm but mournful fortitude.* Just at this conjuncture Lewis announced * He speaks very dospondingly in his letter to Heinsius of the 30th of 214 HISTORT OP ENGLAND. CHAP. X X. 1693 . his intention to return instantly to Versailles, and to send the Dauphin and Boufflers, with part of the army which was assembled near Namur, to join Marshal Lorges who commanded in the Palatinate. Luxemburg was thunderstruck. He expostulated boldly and earnestly. Never, he said, xvas such an opportunity thrown away. If His Majesty would march against the Prince of Orange, victory was almost certain. Could any advantage which it xvas possible to obtain on the Ithine be set against the advantage of a victory gained in the heart of Brabant ox r er the principal army and the principal captain of the coalition? The Marshal reasoned: he implored: he w r ent on his knees; but in vain; and he quitted the royal presence in the deepest dejection. Lewis left the camp a week after he had joined it, and never afterwards made war in person. ' The astonishment was great throughout his army. All the awe which he inspired could not prevent his old generals from grumbling and looking sullen, his young nobles from venting their spleen, sometimes in curses and sometimes in sarcasms, and even his common soldiers from holding irreverent language round their watchfires. His enemies rejoiced with vindictive and insulting joy. Was it not strange, they asked, that this great prince should have gone in state to the theatre of war, and then in a week have gone in the same state back again? Was it necessary that all that vast retinue, princesses, dames of honour and tirewomen, equerries and gentlemen of the bedchamber, cooks, confectioners and musicians, long trains of waggons, droves of led horses and sumpter mules, piles of plate, bales of tapestry, should travel four hundred miles merely in order that the Most Christian King might look at his May. Saint Simon says: “On a su depuis'que le Prince d'Orange 6crivit plusieurs fois au prince dc Vaudmont, son ami intimc, qu’il dtait perdu et qu’il n’y avait que par un miracle qu’il pilt 6chapper." WILLIAM AND MAKY. 215 soldiers and then return? The ignominious truth was too chap. evident to be concealed. He had gone to the Netherlands in ■ |( . a j the hope that he might again be able to snatch some military glory without any hazard to his person, and had hastened back rather than expose himself to the chances of a pitched field.* This was not the first time that His Most Christian Majesty had shown the same kind of prudence. Seventeen years before he had been opposed under the walls of Bouchain to the same antagonist. William, with the ardour of a very young commander, had most imprudently offered battle. The opinion of the ablest generals was that, if Lewis had seized the opportunity, the war might have been ended in a day. The French army had eagerly asked to be led to the onset. The King had called his lieutenants round him and had collected their opinions. Some courtly officers to whom a hint of his wishes had been dexterously conveyed had, blushing and stammering with shame, voted against fighting. It was to no purpose that bold and honest men, who prized his honour more than his life, had proved to him that, on all principles of the military art, he ought to accept the challenge rashly given by the enemy. His Majesty had gravely expressed his sorrow that he could not, consistently with his public duty, obey the impetuous movement of his blood, had turned his rein, and had galloped back to his quarters.** Was it not frightful to think what rivers of the best blood of France, of Spain, of Germany and of England, had flowed, and were destined still to flow, for the gratification of a man who wanted the vulgar courage which was found in the meanest of the hundreds of thousands whom he had sacrificed to his vainglorious ambition? Though the French army in the Netherlands had been Manccu- o * vres of weakened by the departure of the forces commanded by the Luxom- * Sfiiut Simon; Monthly Mercury, June 1693; Burnet, ii. 111. ** Mtfmoires tie Suint Simon; Burnet, i. 404. 216 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. Dauphin and Boufflers, and though the allied army was daily strengthened by the arrival of fresh troops, Luxemburg still had a superiority of force; and that superiority he increased by an adroit stratagem. He marched towards Liege, and made as if he were about to form the siege of that city. William was uneasy, and the more uneasy because he knew that there was a French party among the inhabitants. He quitted his position near Louvain, advanced to Nether Hespen, and encamped there with the river Gette in his rear. On his march he learned that Huy had opened its gates to the French. The news increased his anxiety about Liege, and determined him to send thither a force sufficient to overawe malecontents within the city, and to repel any attack from without.* This was exactly what Luxemburg had expected and desired. His feint had served its purpose. He turned his back on the fortress which had hitherto seemed to be his object, and hastened towards the Gette. William, who had detached more than twenty thousand men, and who had but fifty thousand left in his camp, was alarmed by learning from his scouts, on the eighteenth of July, that the French General, with near eighty thousand, was close at hand. It was still in the King’s power, by a hasty retreat, to put the narrow, but deep, waters of the Gette, which had lately been swollen by rains, between his army and the enemy. But the site which he occupied was strong; and it could easily be made still stronger. He set all his troops to work. Ditches were dug, mounds thrown up, palisades fixed in the earth. In a few hours the gi-ound wore a new aspect; and the King trusted that he should be able to repel the attack even of a force greatly outnumbering his own. Nor was it without much appearance of reason that he felt this confidence. When the morning of the nineteenth of July broke, the bravest men * William to Heinsius, July 1 1 7 . 1693. WILLIAM AND MAHY. 217 of Lewis’s army looked gravely and anxiously on the fortress which had suddenly sprung up to arrest their progress. The ■ allies were protected by a breastwork. Here and there along the entrenchments were formed little redoubts and half moons. A hundred pieces of cannon were disposed along the ramparts. On the left flank, the village of Romsdorff rose close to the little stream of Landen, from xvhich the English have named the disastrous day. On the right was the village of Neer- winden. Both villages were, after the fashion of the Low Countries, surrounded by moats and fences; and, within these enclosures, the little plots of ground occupied by different families were separated by mud walls five feet in height and'a foot in thickness. All these barricades William had repaired and strengthened. Saint Simon, who, after the battle, surveyed the ground, could hardly, he tells us, believe that defences so extensive and so formidable could have been created with such rapidity. Luxemburg, however, was determined to try whether even this position could be maintained against the superior numbers and the impetuous valour of his soldiers. Soon after sunrise the roar of the cannon began to be heard. William’s batteries did much execution before the French artillery could be so placed as to return the fire. It was eight o’clock before the close fighting began. The village of Neerwinden was regarded by both commanders as the point on which every thing depended. There an attack was made by the French left wing commanded by Montchevreuil, a veteran officer of high reputation, and by Berwick, who, though young, was fast rising to a high place among the captains of his time., Berwick led the onset, and forced his way into the village, but w r as soon driven out again with a terrible carnage. His followers fled or perished: he, while trying to rally them, and cursing them for not doing their duty better, was surrounded by foes. He con- ciiAr. xx. 1693 . 218 IIISTOBY OP ENGLAND. CRAP. XX. J693. eealed his xvhite cockade, and hoped to be able, by the help of -his native tongue, to pass himself off as an officer of the English army. But his face was recognised by one of his mother’s brothers, George Churchill-, who held on that day the command of a brigade. A hurried embrace was exchanged between the kinsmen; and the uncle conducted the nephexr to William, who, as long as every thing seemed to be going well, remained in the rear. The meeting of the King and the captive, united by such close domestic ties, and divided by such inexpiable injuries, was a strange sight. Both behaved as became them. William uncovered, and addressed to his prisoner a few words of courteous greeting. Berwick’s only reply was a solemn boxv. The King put on his hat: the Duke put on his hat; and the cousins parted for ever. By this time the French, who had been driven in confusion out of Neerwinden, had been reinforced by a division under the command of the Duke of Bourbon, and came gallantly back to the attack. William, well axvare of the importance of this post, gave orders that troops should move thither from other parts of his line. This second conflict was long and bloody. The assailants again forced an entrance into the village. They were again driven out with immense slaughter, and showed little inclination to return to the charge. Meanwhile the battle had been raging all along the entrenchments of the allied army. Again and again Luxemburg brought up his troops within pistolshot of the breastwork: but he could bring them no nearer. Again and again they recoiled from the heavy fire which was poured on their front and on their flanks. It seemed that all was over. Luxemburg retired to a spot which was out of gunshot, and summoned a fexv of his chief officers to a consultation. They talked together during some time; and their animated gestures xvere observed with deep interest by all who were within sight. WILLIAM AND MAliY. 219 At length Luxemburg formed his decision. A last attempt must be made to carry Neerwinden; and the invincible household troops, the conquerors of Steinkirk, must lead the way. The household troops came on in a manner worthy of their long and terrible renown. A third time Neerwinden was taken. A third time William tried to retake it. At the head of some English regiments he charged the guards of Lewis with such fury that, for the first time in the memory of the oldest warrior, that far famed band gave way.* It was only by the strenuous exertions of Luxemburg, of the Duke of Chartres, and of the Duke of Bourbon, that the broken ranks were rallied. But by this time the centre and left of the allied army had been so much thinned for the purpose of supporting the conflict at Neerwin- den that the entrenchments could no longer be defended on other points. A little after four in the afternoon the whole line gave way. All rvas havoc and confusion. Solmes had received a mortal wound, and fell, still alive, into the hands of the enemy. The English soldiers, to whom his name was hateful, accused him of having in his sufferings shown pusillanimity unworthy of a soldier. The Duke of Ormond was struck down in the press; and in another moment he would have been a corpse, had not a rich diamond on his finger caught the eye of one of the French guards, who justly thought that the owner of such a jewel would be a valuable prisoner. The Duke’s life was saved; and he was speedily exchanged for Berwick. Ruvigny, animated by the . true refugee hatred of the country which had cast him out, was taken fighting in the thickest of the battle. Those into -whose hands he had fallen knew him well, and knew that, if they carried him to their camp, his * Saint Simon’s words are remarkable. “Leur cavalerie,” ho says, u y fit d’abord plior des troupes d’dlitc jusqu’alors invincibles.” lie adds, “Les gardes du Prince d’Orange, ceux 'de M. de Vaudemont, et deux rdgi- mens Anglais en eurcnt riiouneur.” CHAP. XX. 220 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. JG!I3. head would pay for that treason to which persecution had - driven him. With admirable generosity they pretended not to recognise him, and suffered him to make his escape in the tumult. It was only on such occasions as this that the whole greatness of William’s character appeared. Amidst the rout and uproar, while arms and standards were flung away, while multitudes of fugitives were choking up the bridges and fords of the Gette or perishing in its waters, the King, having directed Talmash to superintend the retreat, put himself at the head of a few brave regiments, and by desperate efforts arrested the progress of the enemy. His risk was greater than that which others ran. For he could not be persuaded either to encumber his feeble frame with a cuirass, or to hide the ensigns of the garter. He thought his star a good rallying point for his own troops, and only smiled when he was told that it Avas a good mark for the enemy. Many fell on his right hand and on his left. Two led horses, which in the field always closely folloived his person, were struck dead by cannon shots. One musket ball passed through the curls of his Avig, another through his coat: a third bruised his side and tore his blue riband to tatters. Many years later greyheaded old pensioners who crept about the arcades and alleys of Chelsea Hospital used to relate how he charged at the head of Galway’s horse, hoAV he dismounted four times to put heart into the infantry, how he rallied one corps AA'hich seemed to be shrinking: “That is not the way to fight, gentlemen. You must stand close up to them. Thus, gentlemen, thus.” “You might have seen him,” an eyewitness Avrote, only four days after the battle, “with his sword in his hand, throAving himself upon the enemy. It is certain that, onetime, among the rest, he was seen at the head of two English regiments, and that he fought seven with these two in sight of the whole army, driving them before him WILLIAM AND MARY. 221 above a quarter of an hour. Thanks be to God that preserved him.” The enemy pressed on him so close that it was with difficulty that he at length made his way over the Gette. A small body of brave men, who shared his peril to the last, could hardly keep off the pursuers as he crossed the bridge. * Never, perhaps, was the change which the progress of civilisation has produced in the art of war more strikingly illustrated than on that day. Ajax beating down the Trojan leader with a rock which two ordinary men could scarcely lift, Horatius defending the bridge against an army, Richard the Lionhearted spurring along the whole Saracen line without finding an enemy to stand his assault, Robert Bruce crushing with one blow the helmet and head of Sir Henry Bohun in sight of the whole array of England and Scotland, such are the heroes of a dark age. In such an age bodily vigour is the most indispensable qualification of a warrior. At Landen two poor sickly beings, who, in a rude state of society, would have been regarded as too puny to bear any part in combats, were the souls of two great armies. In some heathen countries they would have been exposed while infants. In Christendom they would, six hundred years earlier, have been sent to some quiet cloister. But their lot had fallen on a time when men had discovered * Berwick; Saint Simon; Burnet, i. 112, 113.; Feuquibres; London Gazette, July 27. 31., Aug. 3. 1693; French Official Relation; Relation sent by the King of Great Britain -to their High Mightinesses, Aug. 2. 1693; Extract of a Letter from the Adjutant of the King of England’s Dragoon Guards, Aug. 1.; Dykvelt's Letter to the Slates General, dated July 30. at noon. The last four papers will be found in the Monthly Mercuries of July and August 1693. Sec also the History of the Last Campaign in the Spanish Netherlands by Edward D’Auvergne, dedicated to tho Duke of Ormond, 1693. The French did justice to William. u Le Prince d’Orange,” Racine wrote to Boileau, “pensa 6tre pris, aprfes avoir fait des merveillcs.'’ See also the glowing description of Sterne, who, no doubt, had many times heard the battle fought over by old soldiers. It was on this occasion that Corporal Trim was left wounded on the field, and was nursed by the Bcguine. chap. xx. "Teas. 222 HISTOET OF ENGLAND. cn]to>. that the strength of the muscles is far inferior in value to the — strength of the mind. It is probable that, among the hundred and twenty thousand soldiers who were marshalled round Neerwinden under all the standards of "Western Europe, the two feeblest in body -were the hunchbacked dwarf who urged forward the fiery onset of France, and the asthmatic skeleton who covered the slow retreat of England. The French were victorious: but they had bought their victory dear. More than ten thousand of the best troops of Lewis had fallen. Neerwinden was a spectacle, at which the oldest soldiers stood aghast. The streets were piled breast high with corpses. Among the slain were some great lords and some renowned warriors. Montchevreuil was there, and the mutilated trunk of the Duke of Uzes, first in order of precedence among the whole aristocracy of France. Thence too Sarsfield was borne desperately -wounded to a pallet from which he never rose again. The Court of Saint Germains had conferred on him the empty title of Earl of Lucan: hut history knows him by the name which is still dear to the most unfortunate of nations. The region, renowned in history as the battle field, during many ages, of the most warlike nations of Europe, has seen only two more terrible days, the day of Malplaquet and the day of Waterloo. During many months the ground was strewn with skulls and bones of men and horses, and with fragments of hats and shoes, saddles and holsters. The next summer the soil, fertilised by twenty thousand corpses, broke forth into millions of poppies. The traveller who, on the road from Saint 'iron to Tirlemont, saw that vast sheet of rich scarlet spreading from Landen to Neerwinden, could hardly help fancying that the figurative prediction of the Hebrew prophet was literally accomplished, that the earth was disclosing her blood, and refusing to cover the slain.* * Letter from Lord Perth to his sister, June 17. 1694. ■WILLIAM AND MA11Y. 223 There was no pursuit, though the sun was still high in the heaven when William crossed the Gette. The conquerors were - so much exhausted by marching and fighting that they could scarcely move; and the horses were in even worse condition than the men. Their general thought it necessary to allow some time for rest and refreshment. The French nobles unloaded their sumpter horses, supped gaily, and pledged one another in champagne amidst the heaps of dead; and, when night fell, whole brigades gladly lay down to sleep in their ranks on the field of battle. The inactivity of Luxemburg did not escape censure. None could deny that he had in the action shown great skill and energy. But some complained that he wanted patience and perseverance. Others whispered that he had no wish to bring to an end a war which made him necessary to a Court where he had never, in time of peace, found favour or even justice.* Leu'is, who on this occasion was perhaps not altogether free from some emotions of jealousy, contrived, it W’as reported, to mingle with the praise which he bestowed on his lieutenant blame which, though delicately expressed, was perfectly intelligible. “In the battle,” he said, “the Duke of Luxemburg behaved like Conde; and since the battle the Prince of Orange has behaved like Turenne.” In truth the ability and vigour with which William repaired his terrible defeat might w r ell excite admiration. “In one respect,” said the Admiral Coligni, “I may claim superiority over Alexander, over Scipio, over Cresar. They won great battles, it is true. I have lost four great battles; and yet I show to the enemy a more formidable front than ever.” The blood of Coligni ran in the veins of William; and with the blood * Saint Simon mentions the reflections thrown on the Marshal. Feu- quifcres, a very good judge, tells us that Luxemburg was unjustly blamed, and that the French army was really too much crippled by Us losses to improve the victory. CHAP. XX. 1GU3. 224 HISTOEY OP ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. J <*93. had descended the unconquerable spirit which could derive from failure as much glory as happier commanders owed to success. The defeat' of Landen was indeed a heavy blow. The King had a few days of cruel anxiety. If Luxemburg pushed on, all was lost. Louvain must fall, and Mechlin, and Nieuport, and Ostend. The Batavian frontier would he in danger. The cry for peace throughout Hollatid might be such as neither States General nor Stadtliolder would be able to resist. * But there was delay; and a very short delay was enough for William. From the field of battle he made his way through the multitude of fugitives to the neighbourhood of Louvain, and there began to collect his scattered forces. His character is not lowered by the anxiety which, at that moment, the most disastrous of his life, he felt for the two persons who xvere dearest to him. As soon as he was safe, he wrote to assure his wife of his safety.** In the confusion of the flight he had lost sight of Portland, who was then in very feeble health, and had therefore run more than the ordinary risks of war. A short note which the King sent to his friend a few hours later is still extant.*** “Though I hope to see you this evening, I cannot help writing to tell you how rejoiced I am that you got off so well. God grant that your health may soon be quite restored. These are great trials, which he has been pleased to send me in quick succession. I must try to submit to his pleasure without murmuring, and to deserve his anger less.” His forces rallied fast. Large bodies of troops which he had, perhaps imprudently, detached from his army while he * This account of what would have taken place, if Luxemburg had been able and willing to improve his victory, I have taken from what seems to have been a very manly and sensible speech made by Tnlmash in the House of Commons on the 11th of December following. See Grey’s Debates. ** William to Heinsius, July 1693. *** William to Portland, Julylf. 1693. WILLIAM AND MARY. 225 supposed that Liege was the object of the enemy, rejoined him chap. by forced marches. Three weeks after his defeat he held— .**,' ■ - a review a few miles from Brussels. The number of men under arms was greater than on the morning of the bloody day of Landen: their appearance was soldierlike; and their spirit seemed unbroken. William now wrote to ITeinsius that the worst was over. “The crisis,” he said, “has been a terrible one. Thank God that it has ended thus.” He did not, however , think it prudent to try at that time the event of another pitched field. He therefore suffered the French to besiege and take Charleroy; and this was the only advantage which they derived from the most sanguinarybattlefought inEurope during the seventeenth century. The melancholy tidings of the defeat of Landen found Eng- *! israr - 1,0 ° riage of land agitated by tidings not less melancholy from a different the quarter. During many months the trade with the Mediterranean fleet. Sea had been almost entirely interrupted by the war. There was no chance that a merchantman from London or from Amsterdam would, if unprotected, reach the Pillars of Hercules without being boarded by a French privateer; and the protection of armed vessels was not easily to be obtained. During the year 1G92, great fleets, richly laden for Spanish, Italian and Turkish markets, had been gathering in the Thames and the Texel. In February 1693, near four hundred ships ivere ready to start. The value of the cargoes was estimated at several millions sterling. Those galleons which had long been the wonder and envy of the world had never conveyed so precious a freight from the West Indies to Seville. The English government undertook, in concert with the Dutch government, to escort the vessels winch were laden with this great mass of wealth. The French government was bent on intercepting them. The plan of the allies w’as that seventy ships of the line and Macaulay, History. VII. 15 226 HISTOEY 03? ENGH^ASI). CHAP. XX. 1093 . about thirty frigates and brigantines should assemble in the Channel under the command of ICillegrew and Delaval, the two new Lords of the English Admiralty, and should convoy the Smyrna fleet, as it was popularly called, beyond the limits within which any danger could be apprehended from the Brest squadron. The greater part of the armament might then return to guard the Channel, while Hooke, with twenty sail, might accompany the trading vessels and might protect them against the squadron which lay at Toulon. The plan of the Erench government was that the Brest squadron under Tourville and the Toulon squadron under Estrees should meet in the neighbourhood of the Straits of Gibraltar, and should there lie in wait for the booty. Which plan was the better conceived may be doubted. Which was the better executed is a question which admits of no doubt. The whole French navy, whether in the Atlantic or in the Mediterranean, was moved by one will. The navy of England and the navy of the United Provinces were subject to different authorities; and, both in England and in the United Provinces, the power was divided and subdivided to such an extent that no single person was pressed by a heavy responsibility. The spring came. The merchants loudly complained that they had already lost more by delay than they could hope to gain by the most successful voyage; and still the ships of war were not half manned or half provisioned. The Amsterdam squadron did not arrive on our coast till late in April; the Zealand squadron not till the middle'of May.* It was June before the immense fleet, near five hundred sail, lost sight of the cliffs of England. Tourville was already on the sea, and was steering southward. But ICillegrew and Delaval were so negligent or so unfortunate that they had no intelligence of his movements. They * London Gazette, April 24., May 15. 1693. WILLIAM AND MABT. 227 at first took it for granted that he was still lying in the port of Brest. Then they heard a rumour that some shipping had been seen to the northward; and they supposed that he was taking advantage of their absence to threaten the coast of Devonshire. It never seems to have occurred to them aspossible that he might have effected a junction with the Toulon squadron; and might be impatiently waiting for his prey in the neighbourhood of Gibraltar. They therefore, on the sixth of June, having convoyed the Smyrna fleet about two hundred miles beyond Ushant, announced their intention to part company with Hooke. Rooke expostulated, but to no purpose. It was necessary for him to submit, and to proceed with his twenty men of war to the Mediterranean, while his superiors, with the rest of the armament, returned to the Channel. It. was by this time known in England that Tourville had stolen out of Brest, and was hastening to join Estrees. The return of Killegrew andDelaval therefore excited great alarm. A swift sailing vessel was instantly despatched to warn Rooke of his danger: but the warning never reached him. He ran before a fair wind to Cape Saint Vincent; and there he learned that some French ships were lying in the neighbouring Bay of Lagos. The first information which he received led him to believe that they were few in number; and so dexterously did they conceal their strength that, till they were within half an hour’s sail, he had no suspicion that he was opposed to the whole maritime strength of a great kingdom. To contend against fourfold odds would have been madness. It was much that he was able to save his squadron from utter destruction. He exerted all his skill. Two or three Dutch men of war, which were in the rear, courageously sacrificed themselves to save the fleet. With the rest of the armament, and with about sixty merchant ships, Rooke got safe to Madeira and thence to Cork. But more than three hundred of the vessels which he had con- 15 * CHAP. xx. 11PJ3. 22S HISTORY 0E ENGLAND. CnAP. XX. 1693 . Excitement in London. voyed were scattered over the ocean. Some escaped to Ireland; some to Corunna; some to Lisbon; some to Cadiz: some were captured, and more destroyed. A few, which had taken shelter under the rock of Gibraltar, and were pursued thither by the enemy, were sunk when it was found that they could not be defended. Others perished in the same manner under the batteries of Malaga. The gain to the French seems not to have been great: but the loss to England and Holland was immense.* Never within the memory of man had there been in the City a day of more gloom and agitation than that on which the news of the encounter in the Bay of Lagos arrived. Many merchants, an eyewitness said, went away from the Royal Exchange, as pale as if they had received sentence of death. A deputation from the merchants who had been sufferers by this great disaster went up to the Queen with an address representing their grievances. They were admitted to the Council Chamber, where she was seated at the head of the Board. She directed Somers to reply to them in her name; and he addressed to them a speech well calculated to sooth their irritation. Her Majesty, he said, felt for them from her heart; and she had already appointed a Committee of the Privy Council to inquire into the cause of the late misfortune, and to consider of the best means of preventing similar misfortunes in time to come.** *•* This answer gave so much satisfaction that the Lord Mayor * Burchett’s Memoirs of Transactions at Sea; Burnet, ii. 114, 115, 116.; the London Gazette, July 17. 1G93; Monthly Mercury of July; Letter from Cadiz, dated July 4. *•* Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary; Baden to the States General, July 4 °' Among 1 the Tanner MSS. in the Bodleian Library are leltors describing the agitation in the City. “I wish,” says one of Bancroft’s Jacobite correspondents, “ it may open our eyes and change our minds. But by the accounts I have seen, the Turkey Company went from the Queen and Council full of satisfaction and good humour.” ■WILLIAM AND MABT. 229 soon came to the palace to thank the Queen for her goodness, chap. to assure her that, through all vicissitudes, London would be ^- true to her and her consort, and to inform her that, severely as the late calamity had been felt by many great commercial houses, the Common Council had unanimously resolved to advance whatever might be necessary for the support of the government.* The ill humour which the public calamities naturally pro- f. a b c °^'. le duced was inflamed by every factious artifice. Never had the william Jacobite pamphleteers been so savagely scurrilous as during ton. this unfortunate summer. The police was consequently more active than ever in seeking for the dens from which so much treason proceeded. With great difficulty and after long search the most important of all the unlicensed presses was discovered. This press belonged to a Jacobite named William Anderton, whose intrepidity and fanaticism marked him out as tit to be * London Gazette, August 21. 1693; L’l-Iermitagc to the States General Aug F ~ * n this an( I ^ 1C following chapters, make large use of the despatches of L'llermitage, it may be proper to say something about him. He was a French refugee, and resided in London as agent for the IValdenses. One of his employments had been to send newsletters to Heinsius. Some interesting extracts from those newsletters will be found in the work of the Baron Sirtema de Groveslins. It was probably in consequence of the Pensionary’s recommendation that the States General, by a resolution dated 1693, desired L’llermitage to collect and transmit to them intelligence of what was passing in England. His letters abound with curious and valuable information which is nowhere else to be found. Ilis accounts of parliamentary proceedings are of peculiar value, and seem to have been so considered by bis employers. Copies of the despatches of L’llermitage, and, indeed, of the despatches of all the ministers and agents employed by the States General in England from the time of Elizabeth downward, now are, or will soon be, in the library of the British Museum. For this valuable addition to the great national storehouse of knowledge, the country is chiefly indebted to Lord Palmerston. But it would be unjust not to add that his instructions were most zealously carried into effect by the late Sir Edward Disbrowo, with the cordial cooperation of the enlightened men who have charge of the noble collection of Archives at the Hague. 230 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. xx. luaj. employed on services from which prudent men and scrupulous - men shrink. During two years he had been watched by the agents of the government: but where he exercised his craft was an impenetrable mystery. At length he was tracked to a house near Saint James’s Street, where he was known by a feigned name, and where he passed for a working jeweller. A messenger of the press went thither with several assistants, and found Anderton’s wife 'and mother posted as sentinels at the door. The women knew the messenger, rushed on him, tore his hair, and cried out “Thieves” and “Murder.” The alarm was thus given to Auderton. He concealed the instruments of his calling, came forth with an assured air, and bade defiance to the messenger, the Censor, the Secretary, and Little Hooknose himself. After a struggle he was secured. His room was searched; and at first sight no evidence of his guilt appeared. But behind the bed was soon found a door which opened into a dark closet. The closet contained a press, types and heaps of newly printed papers. One of these papers, entitled Remarks on the Present Confederacy and the Late Revolution, is perhaps the most frantic of all the Jacobite libels. In this tract the Prince of Orange is gravely' accused of having ordered fifty of his wounded English soldiers to be burned alive. The governing principle of his whole conduct, it is said, is not vainglory, or ambition, or avarice, but a deadly'hatred of Englishmen and a desire to make them miserable. The nation is vehemently adjured, on peril of incurring the severest judgments, to rise up and free itself from this plague, this curse, this tyrant whose depravity makes it difficult to believe that he can have been procreated by a human pair. Many copies were also found of another paper, somewhat less ferocious but perhaps more dangerous, entitled A French Conquest neither desirable nor practicable. In this tract also the people are exhorted to rise in insurrection. They are assured ■WILLIAM A HD MARY. 231 that a great part of the army is with them. The forces of the Prince of Orange will melt away: he will be glad to make his ■ escape; and a charitable hope is sneeringly expressed that it may not be necessary to do him any harm beyond sending him back to Loo, where he may live surrounded by luxuries for which the English hare paid dear. The government, provoked and alarmed by the virulence of the Jacobite pamphleteers, determined to make Anderton an example. He was indicted for high treason, and brought to the bar of the Old Bailey. Treby, now Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, and Powell, who had honourably distinguished himself on the day of the trial of the bishops, were on the Bench. It is unfortunate that no detailed report of the evidence has come down to us, and that we are forced to content ourselves with such fragments of information as can be collected from the contradictory narratives of writers evidently partial, intemperate and dishonest. The indictment, however, is extant; and the overt acts which it imputes to the prisoner undoubtedly amount to high treason* To exhort the subjects of the realm to rise up and depose the King by force, and to add to that exhortation the expression, evidently ironical, of a hope that it may not be necessary to inflict on him any evil worse than banishment, is surely an offence which the least courtly lawyer will admit to be within the scope of the statute of Edward the Third. On this point indeed there seems to have been no dispute, either at the trial or subsequently. The prisoner denied that he had printed the libels. On this point it seems reasonable that, since the evidence has not come down to us, we should give credit to the judges and the jury who heard what the witnesses had to say. * It is strange that the indictment should not have been printed in Howell’s State Trials. The copy which is before me was made for Sir James Mackintosh. CIIAP. xx. Tt>93. 232 niSTOET OP ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. i Gas. One argument 'with which Anderton had been furnished by -his advisers, and which, in the Jacobite pasquinades of that time, is represented as unanswerable, "was that, as the art of printing had been unknown in the reign of Edward the Third, printing could not be an overt act of treason under a statute of that reign. The Judges treated this argument very lightly; and they were surely justified in so treating it. For it is an argument which would lead to the conclusion that it could not be an overt act of treason to behead a King with a guillotine or to shoot him with a Minie rifle. It was also urged in Anderton’s favour, — and this was undoubtedly an argument well entitled to consideration, — that a distinction ought to be made between the author of a treasonable paper and the man who merely printed it. The former could not pretend that ho had not understood the meaning of the words which he had himself selected. But to the latter those words might convey no idea whatever. The metaphors, the allusions , the sarcasms, might be far beyond his comprehension; and, while his hands were busy among the types, his thoughts might be wandering to things altogether unconnected with the manuscript which was before him. It is undoubtedly true that it may be no crime to print what it would be a great crime to write. But this is evidently a matter concerning which no general rule can be laid down. Whether Anderton had, as a more mechanic, contributed to spread a work the tendency of which he did not suspect, or had knowingly lent his help to raise a rebellion, was a question for the jury; and the jury might reasonably infer from his change of his name, from the secret manner in which he worked, from the strict watch kept by his wife and mother, and from the fury with which, even in the grasp of the messengers, he railed at the government, that he was not the unconscious tool, but the intelligent and zealous accomplice of traitors. The twelve, after passing ■WILLIAM AND MAKY. 233 a considerable time in deliberation, informed the Court that chap. ' XX one of them entertained doubts. Those doubts were removed by the arguments ofTreby and Powell; and a verdict of Guilty was found, The fate of the prisoner remained during some time in suspense. The Ministers hoped thaT he might be induced to save his own neck at the expense of the necks of the pamphleteers who had employed him. But his natural courage was kept up by spiritual stimulants which the nonjuring divines well understood how to administer, lie suffered death 'with fortitude, and continued to revile the government to the last. The Jacobites clamoured loudly against the cruelty of the Judges who had tried him and of the Queen who had left him for execution, and, not very consistently, represented him at once as a poor ignorant artisan who was not aware of the nature and tendency of the act for which he suffered, and as a martyr who had heroically laid down his life for the banished Ring and the persecuted Church.* The Ministers were much mistaken if they flattered them- Wriimjs J ami arti- selves that the fate of Anderton would deter others from imi- s™ »f the Ja- tating his example. His execution produced several pamphlets cobites, scarcely less virulent than those for which he had suffered. Collier, in what he called Remarks on the London Gazette, exulted with cruel joy over the carnage of Landen, and the vast destruction of English property on the coast of Spain. ** Other writers did them best to raise riots among the labouring people. For the doctrine of the Jacobites vras that disorder, in whatever place or in whatever way it might begin, was likely to end in a Restoration. A phrase which, without a commentary, may seem to be mere nonsense, but which was really full of meaning, * Most of the information which has come down to us about Anderton’s case will be found in IiowelFs State Trials. ** The Remarks are extant, and deserve to be read. 234 HISTORY OR liKIAND. CHAP. XX. IB93. was often in their mouths at this time, and was indeed apass- - word by which the members of the party recognised each other: “Box it about: it will come to my father.” The hidden sense of this gibberish was, “Throw the country into confusion; it will be necessary at last to have recourse to King James.”* Trade was not prosperous; and many industrious men were out of work. Accordingly songs addressed to the distressed classes were composed by the maleeontent street poets. Numerous copies of a ballad exhorting the weavers to rise against the government were discovered in the house of that Quaker who had printed James’s Declaration.** Every art was used for the purpose of exciting discontent in a much more formidable body of men, the sailors; and unhappily the vices of the naval administration furnished the enemies of the State with but too good a choice of inflammatory topics. Some seamen deserted: some mutinied: then came executions; and then came more ballads and broadsides representing those executions as barbarous murders. Reports that the government had determined to defraud its defenders of their hard earned pay were circulated with so much effect that a great crowd of women from Wapping and Rotherhithe besieged "Whitehall, clamouring for what was due to their husbands. Mary had the good sense and good nature to order four of those importunate petitioners to be admitted into the room where she was holding a Council. She heard their complaints, and herself assured them that the rumour which had alarmed them was unfounded.*** By this time Saint Bartholomew’s day drew * Narcissus Luttrcll’s Diary. ** Ibid. *** There are still extant a handbill addressed to All Gentlemen Seamen that are weary of their Lives; and a ballad accusing the King and Queen of cruelty to the sailors. “To robbers, thieves, and felons, they Freely grant pardons every day. ■WILLIAM ASH MAHT. 235 near; and the great annual fair, the delight of idle apprentices and the horror of Puritanical Aldermen, was opened in Smith- field with the usual display of dwarfs, giants, and dancing dogs, the man that ate fire, and the elephant that loaded and fired a musket. But of all the shows none proved so attractive as a dramatic performance which, in conception, though doubtless not in execution, seems to have borne much resemblance to those immortal masterpieces of humour in which Aristophanes held up Cleon and Lamachus to derision. Two strollers personated Killegrcw and Delaval. The Admirals were represented as flying with their whole fleet before a few French privateers, and taking shelter under the guns of the Tower. The office of Chorus was performed by a Jackpudding who expressed very freely his opinion of the naval administration. Immense crowds flocked to see this strange farce. The applauses were loud: the receipts were great; and the mountebanks, who had at first ventured to attack only the unlucky and unpopular Board of Admiralty, now’, emboldened by impunity and success, and probably prompted and rewarded by persons of much higher station than their own, began to cast reflections on other departments of the government. This attempt to revive the license of the Attic Stage was soon brought to a close by the appearance of a strong body of constables who carried off the actors to prison.* Meanwhile the streets of London were every night strewn with seditious handbills. At all the taverns the zealots of hereditary right were limping about with glasses of wine and punch at their lips. This fashion had just come in; and the uninitiated wondered much that so great a number of jolly gentlemen should have suddenly become lame. But those Only poor seamen, who alone Do keep them in their father’s throne, Must have at all no mercy shown.” Narcissus Luttrell gives an account of the scene at Whitehall. * L’llermitage, Sept. ij. 1693; Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary. CHAP XX. 1G93. 236 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. 1693. Conduct of Caer- marthen. who were in the secret knew that the word Limp was a conse- • crated word, that every one of the four letters which composed it was the initial of an august name, and that the loyal subject who limped while he drank was taking off his bumper to Lewis, James, Mary, and the Prince.* It was not only in the capital that the Jacobites, at this time, made a great display of their wit. They mustered strong at Bath, where the Lord President Caermarthen was trying to recruit his feeble health. Every evening they met, as they phrased it, to serenade the Marquess. In other words they assembled under the sick man’s window, and there sang doggrcl lampoons on him. ** It is remarkable that the Lord President, at the very time at which he was insulted as a Williamite at Bath, was considered as a stanch Jacobite at Saint Germains. Plow he came to be so considered is a most perplexing question. Some writers are of opinion that he, like Shrewsbury, Russell, Godolphin and Marlborough, entered into engagements with one king while eating the bread of the other. But this opinion does not rest on sufficient proofs. About the treasons of Shrewsbury, of Russell, of Godolphin and of Marlborough, we have a great mass of evidence, derived from various sources, and extending over several years. But all the information which we possess about Caermarthen’s dealings with James is contained in a single short paper written by Melfort on the sixteenth of October 1693. Prom that paper it is quite clear that intelligence had reached the banished King and his Ministers which led * Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary. ** Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary. In a pamphlet published at this time, and entitled A Dialogue between Whig and Tory, the Whig alludes to “the public insolences at the Bath upon the late defeat in Flanders.” The Tory answers, “I know not what some hotheaded drunken men may have said and done at the Bath or elsewhere.” In the folio Collection of State Tracts, this Dialogue is erroneously said to have been printed about November 1692. ■WILLIAM AXD MAM. 237 them to regard Caermarthen as a friend. But there is no proof that they ever so regarded him, either before that day or after ■ that day.* On the whole, the mpst probable explanation of this mystery seems to be that Caermarthen had been sounded by some Jacobite emissary much less artful than himself, and had, for the purpose of getting at the bottom of the new scheme of policy devised by Middleton, pretended to be well disposed to the cause of the banished King, that an exaggerated account of what had passed had been sent to Saint Germains, and that there had been much rejoicing there at a conversion which soon proved to have been feigned. It seems strange that such a conversion should even for a moment have been thought sincere. It was plainly Caermartlien’s interest to stand by the sovereigns in possession. He w^s their chief minister. lie could not hope to be the chief minister of James. It can indeed hardly be supposed that the political conduct of a cunning old man, insatiably ambitious and covetous, was much influenced by personal partiality. But, if there were any person to whom Caermarthen was partial, that person was un- * The Paper to which I refer is among the Raima MSS., and will be found in Macpherson’s collection. That excellent writer Mr. Ilallain has, on this subject, fallen into an error of a kind very rare with him. lie says that the name of Caermarthen is perpetually mentioned among those whom James reckoned as his friends. I believe that the evidence against Caermarthen will be found to begin and to end with the letter of Melfort which I have mentioned. There is indeed, among the Nairne MSS., which Macpherson printed, an undated and anonymous letter in which Caermarthen is reckoned among the friends of James. But this letter is altogether undeserving of consideration. The writer was evidently a silly hotheaded Jacobite, who knew nothing about the situation or character of any of the public men whom he mentioned. lie blunders grossly about Marlborough, Godolphin, Russell, Shrewsbury and the Beaufort family. Indeed the whole composition is a tissue of absurdities. It ought to be remarked that, in the Life of James compiled from his own Papers, the assurances of support which he received from Marlborough, Russell, Godolphin, Shrewsbury, and other men of note are mentioned with very copious details. But there is not a word indicating that any such assurances were ever received from Caermarthen. CHAP. XX. 161 ) 3 . 238 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. chap, doubtedly Mary. That he had seriously engaged in a plot to 1693 . depose her, at the risk of his head if ho failed, and with the certainty of losing immense power and wealth if he succeeded, was a story too absurd for any credulity but the credulity of exiles. Caennarthen had indeed at that moment peculiarly strong reasons for being satisfied with the place which he held in the counsels of William and Mary. There is but too strong reason to believe that he was then accumulating unlawful gain with a rapidity unexampled even in his experience. New The contest between the two East India Companies was, charter 1 granted during tlie autumn of 1693, fiercer than ever. The House of Kastlndia Commons, finding the Old Company obstinately averse to all Cumpanj. com p rom i S0) a little before the close of the late session, requested the Iving to give the three years’ warning prescribed by the Charter. Child and his fellows now began to be seriously alarmed. They expected every day to receive the dreaded notice. Nay, they were not sure that their exclusive privilege might not be taken away without any notice at all: for they found that they had, by inadvertently omitting to pay the tax lately imposed on their stock at the precise time fixed by law, forfeited their Charter; and, though it would, in ordinary circumstances, have been thought cruel in the government to take advantage of such a slip, the public was not inclined to allow the Old Company any thing more than the strict letter of the bond. Every thing was lost if the Charter were not renewed before the meeting of Parliament. There can be little doubt that the proceedings of the corporation were still really directed by Child. But he had, it should seem, perceived that his unpopularity had injuriously affected the interests which were under his care, and therefore did not obtrude himself on the public notice. Ilis place was ostensibly filled by his near kinsman Sir Thomas Cook, one of the greatest merchants of ■WILLIAM AND At AST. 239 London, and Member of Parliament for the borough of Colchester. The Directors placed at Cook’s absolute disposal all • the immense wealth which lay in their treasury; and in a short time near a hundred thousand pounds were expended in corruption on a gigantic scale. In what proportions this enormous sum was distributed among the great men at Whitehall, and how much of it was embezzled by intermediate agents, is still a mystery. We know with certainty however that thousands went to Seymour and thousands to Caermarthen. The effect of these bribes was that the Attorney General received orders to draw up a charter regranting the old privileges to the Old Company. No minister, however, could, after what had passed in Parliament, venture to advise the Crown to renew the monopoly without conditions. The Directors were sensible that they had no choice, and reluctantly consented to accept the new Charter on terms substantially the same with those which the Plouse of Commons had sanctioned. It is probable that, two years earlier, such a compromise would have quieted the feud which distracted the City. But a long conflict, in which satire and calumny had not been spared, had heated the minds of men. The cry of Dowgate against Leadenhall Street was louder than ever. Caveats were entered: petitions were signed; and in those petitions a doctrine which had hitherto been studiously kept in the background was boldly affirmed. While it -was doubtful on which side the royal prerogative would be used, that prerogative had no-t been questioned. But as soon as it appeared that the Old Company was likely to obtain a regrant of the monopoly under the Great Seal, the New Company began to assert with vehemence that no monopoly could be created except by Act of Parliament. The Privy Council, over which Caermarthen presided, after hearing the matter fully argued by counsel on both sides, decided in CIIAP XX. 240 HISTORY OR ESGLASD. chap, favour of the Old Company, and ordered the Charter to be -hl- sealed -* neturn of The autumn was by this time far advanced, and the armies toEn»™ ' n the Netherlands had gone into quarters for the winter. On Htarvsuc- t ^ le l ast day °f October William landed in England. The Par- France° f ^ amen t was about to meet; and he had every reason to expect a session even more stormy than the last. The people were discontented, and not without cause. The year had been every where disastrous to the allies, not only on the sea and in the Low Countries, but also in Servia, in Spain, in Italy, and in Germany. The Turks had compelled the generals of the Empire to raise the siege of Belgrade. A newly created Marshal of France, the Duke of Noailles, had invaded Catalonia and taken the fortress of Itosas. Another newly created Marshal, the skilful and valiant Catinat, had descended from the Alps on Piedmont, and had, at Marsiglia, gained a complete victory over the forces of the Duke of Savoy. This battle is memorable as the first of a long series of battles in which the Irish troops retrieved the honour lost by misfortunes and misconduct in domestic war. Some of the exiles of Limerick showed, on that day, under the standard of France, a valour which distinguished them among many thousands of brave men. It is remarkable that on the same day a battalion of the persecuted and expatriated Huguenots stood firm amidst the general disorder round the standard of Savoy, and fell fighting desperately to the last. The Duke of Lorges had marched into the Palatinate, already twice devastated, and had found that Turenne and Duras had left him something to destroy. Heidelberg, just beginning to rise again from its ruins, was again sacked, the peaceable citizens butchered, their wives and daughters foully out- * A Journal of several Remarkable Passages relating to the East India Trade, 1G93. ■WILLIAM AND MARY. 241 raged. The very choirs of the churches were stained with chap. blood: the pyxes and crucifices were torn from the altars: the tombs of the ancient Electors were broken open: the corpses, stripped of their cerecloths and ornaments, were dragged about the streets. The skull of the father of the Duchess of Orleans was beaten to fragments by the soldiers of a prince among the ladies of whose splendid Court she held the foremost place. And vet a discerning eye might have perceived that, unfor- Distress tunate as the confederates seemed to have been, the advantage had really been on their side. The contest was quite as much a financial as a military contest. The French King had, some months before, said that the last piece of gold would carry the day; and he now began painfully to feel the truth of the saying. England was undoubtedly hard pressed by public burdens: but still she stood up erect. France meanwhile was fast sinking. Her recent efforts had been too much for her strength, and had left her spent and unnerved. Never had her rulers shown more ingenuity in devising taxes or more severity in exacting them: but by no ingenuity, by no severity, w-as it possible to raise the sums necessary for another such campaign as that of 1693. In England the harvest had been abundant. In France the corn and the wine had again failed. The people, as usual, railed at the government. The government, with shameful ignorance or more shameful dishonesty, tried to direct the public indignation against the dealers in grain. Decrees appeared which seemed to have been elaborately framed for the purpose of turning dearth into famine. The nation was assured that there was no reason for uneasiness, that there was more than a sufficient supply of food, and that the scarcity had been produced by the villanous arts of misers, who locked up their stores in the hope of making enormous gains. Commissioners were appointed to inspect the granaries, and were empowered to send to market all the corn that was not necessary for the consumption of the proprietors. Macaulay, History. VII. 16 242 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. . Such interference of course increased the suffering which it was meant to relieve. But in the midst of the general distress there was an artificial plenty in one favoured spot. The most arbitrary prince must always stand in some awe of an immense mass of human beings collected in the neighbourhood of his own palace. Apprehensions similar to those which had induced the Csesars to extort from Africa and Egypt the means of pampering the rabble of Rome induced Lewis to aggravate the misery of twenty provinces for the purpose of keeping one huge city in good humour. He ordered bread to be distributed in all the parishes of the capital at less than half the market price. The English Jacobites were stupid enough to extol the wisdom and humanity of this arrangement. The harvest, they said, had been good in England and bad in France; and yet the loaf was cheaper at Paris than in London; and the explanation was simple. The French had a sovereign whose heart was French, and who watched over his people with the solicitude of a father, while the English were cursed with a Dutch tyrant, who sent their corn to Holland. The truth was that a -week of such fatherly government as that of Lewis would have raised all England in arms from Northumberland to Cornwall. That there might be abundance at Paris, the people of Normandy and Anjou were stuffing themselves with nettles. That there might be tranquillity at Paris, the peasantry were fighting with the bargemen and the troops all along the Loire and the Seine. Multitudes fled from those rural districts where bread cost five sous a pound to the happy place where bread was to be had for two sous a pound. It was necessary to drive the famished crowds back by force from the barriers, and to denounce the most terrible punishments against all who should not go home and starve quietly. * * See the Monthly Mercuries and London Gazettes of September, October, November and December 1693; Dangeau, Sept. 5. 27., Oct. 21., Nov. 21.; the Price of the Abdication, 1693. WIT,UAH AKD MAB.Y. 243 Lewis was sensible that the strength of France had been overstrained by the exertions of the last campaign. Even if- her harvest and her vintage had been abundant, she would not have been able to do in 1694 v-hat she had done in 1693; and it was utterly impossible that, in a season of extreme distress, she should again send into the field armies superior in number on every point to the armies of the coalition. New conquests were not to be expected. It -would be much if the harassed and exhausted land, beset on all sides by enemies, should be able to sustain a defensive war without any disaster. So able a politician as the French King could not but feel that it would be for his advantage to treat with the allies while they -were still awed by the remembrance of the gigantic efforts -which his kingdom had just made, and before the collapse which had followed those efforts should become visible. He had long been communicating through various channels with some members of the confederacy, and trying to induce them to separate themselves from the rest. But he had as yet made no overture tending to a general pacification. For he knew' that there could be no general pacification unless he U'as prepared to abandon the cause of James, and to acknowledge the Prince and Princess of Orange as King and Queen of England. This was in truth the point on which every thing turned. What should be done with those great fortresses which Lewis had unjustly seized and annexed to his empire in time of peace, Luxemburg which overawed the Moselle, and Strasburg which domineered over the Upper Rhine; what should be done with the places which he had recently won in open war, Philipsburg, Mons and Namur, Iluy and Charleroy; what barrier should be given to the States General; on what terms Lorraine should be restored to its hereditary Dukes; these were assuredly not unimportant questions. But the all important question was whether England was to be, as she had been under James, a 10 * CHAP. XX. J693. 244 HISTOEY or ENOLAME. CHAP. XX. 1693 . dependency of France, or, as she was under William and Mary, a power of the first rank. If Lewis really wished for peace, he must bring himself to recognise the Sovereigns whom he had so often designated as usurpers. Could he bring himself to recognise them? His superstition, his pride, his regard for the unhappy exiles who were pining at Saint Germains, his personal dislike of the indefatigable and unconquerable adversary who had been constantly crossing his path during twenty years, were on one side; his interests and those of his people were on the other. He must have been sensible that it w r as not in his power to subjugate the English, that he must at last leave them to choose their government for themselves, and that what he must do at last it would be best to do soon. Yet he could not at once make up his mind to what was so disagreeable to him. He however opened a negotiation with the States General through the intervention of Sweden and Denmark, and sent a confidential emissary to confer in secret at Brussels with Dykvelt, who possessed the entire confidence of .William. There was much discussion about matters of secondary importance: but the great question remained unsettled. The French agent used, in private conversation, expressions plainly- implying that the government which he represented was prepared to recognise William and Mary: but no formal assurance could be obtained from him. Just at the same time the King of Denmark informed the allies that he was endeavouring to prevail on France not to insist on the restoration of James as an indispensable condition of peace, but did not say that his endeavours had as yet been successful. Meanwhile Avaux, who was now Ambassador at Stockholm, informed the King of Sweden, that, as the dignity of all crowned heads had been outraged in the person of James, the Most Christian King felt assured that not only neutral powers, but even the Emperor, would try to find some expedient -which might remove so grave WILLIAM AND MAET. 245 a cause of quarrel. The expedient at which Avaux hinted doubtless was that James should waive his rights, and that the Prince of Wales should be sent to England, bred a Protestant, adopted by William and Mary, and declared their heir. To such an arrangement William would’ probably have had no personal objection. But we may be assured that he never would have consented to make it a condition of peace with France. Who should reign in England was a question to be decided by England alone.* It might well be suspected that a negotiation conducted in this manner was merely meant to divide the confederates. William understood the whole importance of the conjuncture. He had not, it may be, the eye of a great captain for all the turns of a battle. But he had, in the highest perfection, the eye of a great statesman for all the turns of a war. That France had at length made overtures to him was a sufficient proof that she felt herself spent and sinking. That those overtures were made with extreme reluctance and hesitation proved that she had not yet come to a temper in which it was possible to have peace with her on fair terms. He saw that the enemy was beginning to give ground, and that this was the time to assume the offensive, to push forward, to bring up every reserve. But whether the opportunity should be seized or lost it did not belong to him to decide. The King of France might levy troops and exact taxes without any limit save that which the laws of nature impose on despotism. But the King of England could do nothing without the support of the House of Commons; and the House of Commons, though it had hitherto supported him zealously and liberally, was not a body on which * Correspondence of William and Ileinsius; Danish Note, dated I)ec. ]P 1693. The note delivered by Avaux to the Swedish government at this time will be found in Lamberty’s Collection and in tho Mdmoires et Negotiations de la Paix de Ryswick. CHAP. XX. 1693 . CIIAP. XX. 1693. A ministry necessary to parliamentary government. 246 HISTORY OR ENGLAND. he could rely. It had indeed got into a state which perplexed • and alarmed all the most sagacious politicians of that age. There was something appalling in the union of such boundless power and such boundless caprice. The fate of the whole civilised world depended on the votes of the representatives of the English people; and there was no public man who could venture to say with confidence what those representatives might not be induced to vote within twenty four hours.* William painfully felt that it was scarcely possible for a prince dependent on an assembly so violent at one time, so languid at another, to effect any thing great. Indeed, though no sovereign did so much to secure and to extend the power of the House of Commons, no sovereign loved the House of Commons less. Nor is this strange: for he saw that House at the very worst. He saw it when it had just acquired the power and had not yet acquired the gravity of a senate. In his letters to Heinsius he perpetually complains of the endless talking, the factious squabbling, the inconstancy, the dilatoriness, of the body W'hich his situation made it necessary for him to treat with deference. His complaints were by no means unfounded; but he had not discovered either the cause or the cure of the evil. The truth v'as that the change which the Revolution had made in the situation of the House of Commons had made another change necessary; and that other change had not yet taken place. There was parliamentary government: but there was no Ministry; and, without a Ministry, the working of a parliamentary government, such as ours, must always be unsteady and unsafe. It is essential to our liberties that the House of Commons * “Sir John Lowther says , nobody can know one day what a House of Commons would do the next; in which all agreed with him.” These remarkable words were written by Caerraarthen on the margin of a paper drawn up by Rochester in August 1G92. Dalrymple, Appendix to part ii. chap. 7. WILLIAM AND MAltY. 247 should, exercise a control over all the departments of the executive administration. And yet it is evident that a crowd - of five or six hundred people, even if they were intellectually much above the average of the members of the best Parliament, even if every one of them were a Burleigh or a Sully, would be unfit for executive functions. It has been truly said that every large collection of human beings, however well educated, has a strong tendency to become a mob; and a country of which the Supreme Executive Council is a mob is surely in a perilous situation. Happily a way lias been found out in which the House of Commons can exercise a paramount influence over the executive government, without assuming functions such as can never be well discharged by a body so numerous and so variously composed. An institution which did not exist in the times of the Plantagenets, of the Tudors or of the Stuarts, an institution not known to'the law, an institution not mentioned in any statute, an institution of which such writers as He Lolme and Blackstone take no notice, began to exist a few years after the Revolution, grew rapidly into importance, became firmly established, and is now almost as essential a part of our polity as the Parliament itself. This institution is the Ministry. The Ministry is, in fact, a committee of leading members of the two Houses. It is nominated by the Crown: but it consists exclusively of statesmen whose opinions on the pressing questions of the time agree, in the main, with the opinions of the. majority of the House of Commons. Among the members of this committee are distributed the great departments of the administration. Each Minister conducts the ordinary business of his own office without reference to his colleagues. But the most important business of every office, and especially such business as is likely to be the subject of discussion in Parlia- CIIAP xx. 1033 . 248 HISTORY OF ENGLAHH. CHAP. XI. 1693 . ment, is brought under the consideration of the whole Mi- - nistry. In Parliament the Ministers are bound to act as one man on all questions relating to the executive government If one of them dissents from the rest on a question too important to admit of compromise, it is his duty to retire. While the Ministers retain the confidence of the parliamentary majority, that majority supports them against opposition, and rejects every motion which reflects on them or is likely to embarrass them. If they forfeit that confidence, if the parliamentary majority is dissatisfied with the way in which patronage is distributed, with the way in which the prerogative of mercy is used, with the conduct of foreign affairs, with the conduct of a war, the remedy is simple. It is not necessary that the Commons should take on themselves the business of administration, that they should request the Crown to make this man a bishop and that man a judge, to pardon one criminal and to execute another, to negotiate a treaty on a particular basis or to send an expedition to a particular place. They have merely to declare that they have ceased to trust the Ministry, and to ask for a Ministry which they can trust. It is by means of Ministries thus constituted, and thus changed, that the English government has long been conducted in general conformity with the deliberate sense of the House of Commons, and yet has been wonderfully free from the vices which are characteristic of governments administered by large, tumultuous and divided assemblies. A few distinguished persons, agreeing in their general opinions, are the confidential advisers at once of the Sovereign and of the Estates of the Realm. In the closet they speak with the authority of men who stand high in the estimation of the re-. presentatives of the people. In Parliament they speak with the authority of men versed in great affairs and acquainted with all the secrets of the State. Thus the Cabinet has something of TOIIA3I AND MARY. 249 the popular character of a representative body; and the re- chap. presentative body has something of the gravity of a cabinet. ^ — Sometimes the state of parties is such that no set of men who can be brought together possesses the full confidence and steady support of a majority of the House of Commons. When this is the case, there must be a weak Ministry; and there will probably be a rapid succession of weak Ministries. At such times the House of Commons never fails to get into a state which no person friendly to representative government can contemplate without uneasiness, into a state which may enable us to form some faint notion of the state of that House during the earlier years of the reign of William. The notion is indeed but faint; for the weakest Ministry has great power as a regulator of parliamentary proceedings; and in the earlier years of the reign of William there was no Ministry at all. No writer has yet attempted to trace the progress of this institution, an institution indispensable to the harmonious gradually working of our other institutions. The first Ministry was the work, partly of mere chance, and partly of wisdom, not however of that highest wisdom which is conversant with great principles of political philosophy, but of that lower wisdom which meets daily exigencies by daily expedients. Neither William nor the most enlightened of his advisers fully understood the nature and importance of that noiseless revolution, •— for it was no less, — which began about the close of 1603, and was completed about the close of 1696. But every body could perceive that,at the close of 1693, the chief offices in the government were distributed not unequally between the two great parties, that the men who held those offices were perpetually .caballing against each other, haranguing against each other, moving votes of censure on each other, exhibiting articles of impeachment against each other, and that the temper of the House of Commons was wild, ungovernable and uncertain. 250 HISTORY OE ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. IG93. Sunderland. Every body could perceive that at the close of 1696, all the -principal servants of the Crown were Whigs, closely bound together by public and private ties, and prompt to defend one another against every attack, and that the majority of the House of Commons was arrayed in good order under those leaders, and had learned to move, like one man, at the word of command. The history of the period of transition and of the steps by which the change was effected is in a high degree curious and interesting. The statesman who had the chief share in forming the first English Ministry had once been but too well known, but had long hidden himself from the public gaze, and had but recently emerged from the obscurity in which it had been expected that he would pass the remains of an ignominious and disastrous life. During that period of general terror and confusion which followed the flight of James, Sunderland had disappeared. It was high time: for of all the agents of the fallen government he was, with the single exception of Jeffreys, the most odious to the nation. Few knew that Sunderland’s voice had in secret been given against the spoliation of Magdalene College and the prosecution of the Bishops: but all knew that he had signed numerous instruments dispensing with statutes, that he had sate in the High Commission, that he had turned or pretended to turn Papist, that he had, a few days after his apostasy, appeared in Westminster Hall as a witness against the oppressed fathers of the Church. He had indeed atoned for many crimes by one crime baser than all the rest. As soon as he had reason to believe that the day of deliverance and retribution was at hand, he had, by a most dexterous and seasonable treason, earned his pardon. During the three months which preceded the arrival of the Dutch armament in Torbay, he had rendered to the cause of liberty and of the Protestant religion services of which it is difficult to overrate either the wickedness or the WILLIAM AND MAKY. 251 utility. To him chiefly it was owing that, at the most critical moment in our history, a French army was not menacing the- Batavian frontier and a French fleet hovering about the English coast. William could not, without staining his own honour, refuse to protect one whom he had not scrupled to employ. Yet it was no easy task even for William to save that guilty head from the first outbreak of public fury. For even those extreme politicians of both sides who agreed in nothing else agreed in oalling for vengeance on the renegade. The Whigs hated him as the vilest of the slaves by whom the late government had been served, and the Jacobites as the vilest of the traitors by whom it had been overthrown. Had he remained in England, he would probably have died by the hand of the executioner, if indeed the executioner had not been anticipatedby the populace. But in Holland a political refugee, favoured by the Stadtholder, might hope to live unmolested. To Holland Sunderland fled, disguised, it is said, as a woman; and his wife accompanied him. At Rotterdam, a town devoted to the House of Orange, he thought himself secure. But the magistrates were not in all the secrets of the Prince, and were assured by some busy Englishmen that Iiis Highness would be delighted to hear of the arrest of the Popish dog, the Judas, W'hose appearance on Tower Hill was impatiently expected by all London. Sunderland was thrown into prison, and remained there till an order for his release arrived from Whitehall. He then proceeded to Amsterdam, and there changed his religion again. His second apostasy edified his wife as much as his first apostasy had edified his master. The Countess wrote to assure her pious friends in England that her poor dear lord’s heart had at last been really touched by divine grace, and that, in spite of all her afflictions, she was comforted by seeing him so true a convert. We may, however, without any violation of Christian charity, suspect that he was still the same false, callous, Sunderland who, a CIIAP. xx. 1633 . 252 HISTOHT OF ENGLAND. CRAP. XX. 1693 . few months before, had made Bonrepaux shudder by denying -the existence of a God, and had, at the same time, won the heart of James by pretending to believe in transubstantiation. In a short time the banished man put forth an apology for his conduct. This apology, when examined, will be found to amount merely to a confession that he had committed one series of crimes in order to gain James’s favour, and another series in order to avoid being involved in James’s ruin. The writer concluded by announcing his intention to pass all the rest of his life in penitence and prayer. He soon retired from Amsterdam to Utrecht, and at Utrecht made himself conspicuous by his regular and devout attendance on the ministrations ofHuguenot preachers. If his letters and those of his wife were to be trusted, he had done for ever with ambition. He longed indeed to be permitted to return from exile, not that he might again enjoy and dispense the favours of the Crown, not that his antechambers might again be filled by the daily swarm of suitors, but that he might see again the turf, the trees and the family pictures of his country seat. His only wish was to he suffered to end his troubled life at Althorpe; and he would be content to forfeit his head if ever he went beyond the palings of his park.* While the House of Commons, which had been elected during the vacancy of the throne, was busily engaged in the work of proscription, he could not venture to show himself in England. But when that assembly had ceased to exist, he thought himself safe. He returned a few days after the Act of Grace had been laid on the table of the Lords. From the benefit of that Act he w'as by name excluded: but he well knew that he had now nothing to fear. He went privately to Kensington,. * See Sunderland’s celebrated Narrative which has often been printed, and his wife’s letters, which are among the Sidney papers, published by tho late Serjeant Blencowe. WILLIAM AND MART. 253 was admitted into the closet, had an audience which lasted two chap. hours, and then retired to his country house. * ■ During many months he led a secluded life, and had no residence in London. Once in the spring of 1691, to the great astonishment of the public, he showed his face in the circle at Court, and was graciously received.** He seems to have been afraid that he might, on his reappearance in Parliament, receive some marked affront. He therefore, very prudently, stole down to Westminster, in the dead time of the year, on a day to which the Houses stood adjourned by the royal command, and on which they met merely for the purpose of adjourning again. Sunderland had just time to present himself, to take the oaths, to sign the declaration against transubstantiation, and to resume his seat. None of the few peers who were present had an opportunity of making any remark.*** It was not till the year 1692 that he began to attend regularly. He was silent: but silent he had always been in large assemblies, even when he was at the zenith of power. His talents were not those of a public speaker. The art in which he surpassed all men was the art of whispering. His tact, his quick eye for the foibles of individuals, his caressing manners, his power of insinuation, and, above all, his apparent frankness, made him irresistible in private conversation. By means of these qualities he had governed James, and now aspired to govern William. To govern William, indeed, was not easy. But Sunderland succeeded in obtaining such a measure of favour and influence as excited much surprise and some indignation. In truth, scarcely any mind was strong enough to resist the witchery of his talk and of his manners. Every man is prone to believe in the gratitude and attachment even of the most worthless persons on * Vail Citters, May- jV 1690. ** Evelyn, April 24. 1691. *** Lords’ Journals, April 28. 1693. , * Vfc < I 7 / 254 HISTORY 03? ENGLAND. CHAP. xx._ " 1633 . whom he has conferred great benefits. It can therefore hardly be thought strange that the most skilful of all flatterers should have been heard with favour, when he, with every outward sign of strong emotion, implored permission to dedicate all his faculties to the service of the generous protector to whom he owed property, liberty, life. It is not necessary, however, to suppose that the King was deceived. He may have thought, with good reason, that, though little confidence could be placed in Sunderland’s professions, much confidence might be placed in Sunderland’s situation; and the truth is that Sunderland proved, on the -whole, a more faithful servant than a much less depraved man might have been. He did indeed make, in profound secresy, some timid overtures towards a reconciliation with James. But it may be confidently affirmed that, even had those overtures been graciously received, — and they appear to have been received very ungraciously, — the twice turned renegade would never have rendered any real service to the Jacobite cause. He well knew that he had done that which at Saint Germains must be regarded as inexpiable. It was not merely that he had been treacherous and ungrateful. Marlborough had been as treacherous and as ungrateful; and Marlborough had been pardoned. But Marlborough had not been guilty of the impious hypocrisy of counterfeiting the signs of conversion. Marlborough had not pretended to be convinced by the arguments of the Jesuits, to be touched by divine grace, to pine for union with the only true Church. Marlborough had not, when Popery was in the ascendant, crossed himself, shrived himself, done penance, taken the communion in one kind, and, as soon as a turn of fortune came, apostatized back again, and proclaimed to all the world that, when he knelt at the confessional and received the host, he was merely laughing at the King and the priests. The crime of Sunderland was one which could never be forgiven by James; and a crime which could never be WILLIAM AND MAEY. 255 forgiven by James was, in some sense, a recommendation to crap. William. The Court, nay, the Council, was full of men who — might hope to prosper if the banished King were restored. But Sunderland had left himself no retreat. He had broken down all the bridges behind him. He had been so false to one side that he must of necessity be true to the other. That he was in the main true to the government which now protected him there is no reason to doubt; and, being true, he could not but be useful. He was, in some respects, eminently qualified to be at that time an adviser of the Crown. He had exactly the talents and the knowledge which William wanted. The two together would have made up a consummate statesman. The master was capable of forming and executing large designs, but was negligent of those small arts in which the servant excelled. The master saw farther off than other men; but what W’as near no man saw so clearly as the servant. The master, though profoundly versed in the politics of the great community of nations, never thoroughly understood the politics of his own kingdom. The servant was perfectly well informed as to the temper and the organization of the English factions, and as to the strong and weak parts of the character of every Englishman of note. Early in 1693, it was rumoured that Sunderland was consulted on all important questions relating to the internal administration of the realm: and the rumom; became stronger when it was known that he had come up to London in the autumn before the meeting of Parliament and that he had taken a large mansion near Whitehall. The coffeehouse politicians were confident that he was about to hold some high office. As yet, however, he had the -wisdom to be content with the reality of power, and to leave the show to others.* His opinion was that, as long as the King tried to balance s " nder - . ° ° land ad- the two great parties against each other, and to divide his fa-vises the * L’Hermitago, Sept. Oct. -jV 1693. 256 IIISTOHT OF ENGLAND. chap; XX. 1693 . King to give tbe preference to the Wbigs. Reasons for preferring tbe Wbigs. vour equally between them, both would, think themselves ill •used, and neither would lend to the government that hearty and steady support which was now greatly needed. His Majesty must make up his mind to give a marked preference to one or the other; and there were three weighty reasons for giving the preference to the Whigs. In the first place, the Whigs were on principle attached to the reigning dynasty. In their view the Revolution had been, not merely necessary, not merely justifiable, but happy and glorious. It had been the triumph of their political theory. When they swore allegiance to William, they swore without scruple or reservation; and they were so far from having any .doubt about his title that they thought it the best of all titles. The Tories, on the other hand, very generally disapproved of that vote of the Convention which liadplaced him on the throne. Some of them were at heart Jacobites, and had taken the oath of allegiance to him only that they might be better able to injure him. Others, though they thought it their duty to obey him as King in fact, denied that he was King by right, and, if they were loyal to him, were loyal without enthusiasm. There could, therefore, belittle doubt on which of the two parties it would be safer for him to rely. In the second place, as to the particular matter on which his heart was at present set, the Whigs were, asabody, prepared to support him strenuously, and the Tories were, as a body, inclined to thwart him. The minds of men were at this time much occupied by the question, in what way the war ought to be carried on. To that question the two parties returned very different answers. An opinion had during many months been growing among the Tories that the policy of England ought to be strictly insular; that she ought to leave the defence of Flanders and the Rhine to the States General, the House of Austria and the WILLIAM AND MARY. 257 Princes of the Empire; that she ought to carry on hostilities with vigour by sea, but to keep up only such an army as might, ■ with the help of the militia, be sufficient to repel an invasion. It was plain that, if this system were adopted, there might be an immediate reduction of the taxes which pressed most heavily on the nation. But the Whigs maintained that this relief v'ould be dearly purchased. Many thousands of brave English soldiers were now in Flanders. Yet the allies had not been able to prevent the French from taking Mons in 1691, Namur in 1692, Charleroy in 1693. If the English troops were withdrawn, it was certain that Ostend, Ghent, Liege, Brussels would fall. The German Princes would hasten to make peace, each for himself. The Spanish Netherlands would probably be annexed to the French monarchy. The United Provinces Y’ould be again in as great peril as in 1672, and would accept whatever terms Lewis might be pleased to dictate. In a few months, he w'ouldbe at liberty to put forth his whole strength against our island. Then W'ould come a struggle for life and death. It might well be hoped that we should be able to defend our soil even against such a general and such an army as had won the battle of Landen. But the fight must be long and hard. How many fertile counties would be turned into deserts, l;ow' many flourishing tov’ns would be laid in ashes, before the invaders were destroyed or driven out! One triumphant campaign in ILent and Middlesex would do more to impoverish the nation than ten disastrous campaigns in Brabant. It is remarkable that this dispute between the two great factions was, during seventy years, regularly revived as often as our country was at v'ar with France. That England ought never to attempt great military operations on the Continent continued to be a fundamental article of the creed of the Tories till the French Revolution produced a complete change in their feelings.* As the chief object of "William was to open * It is amusing to see how Johnson’s Toryism breaks out where we Macaulay, History. VII. 17 cnAP. xx. J(iS3. 258 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. "TuslT Chiefs the Wliis party. RQsseil, the campaign of 1G94 in Flanders with an immense display of force, it was sufficiently clear to whom ho must look for assistance. In the third place, the Whigs were the stronger party in Parliament. The general election of 1690, indeed,had not been favourable to them. They had been, for a time, a minority: but they had ever since been constantly gaining ground: they were now in number a full half of the Lower House: and their effective strength was more than proportioned to their number: for in energy, alertness and discipline, they were decidedly superior to their opponents. Their organization w r as not indeed so perfect as it afterwards became: but they had already begun to look for guidance to a small knot of distinguished men, which was long afterwards widely known by the name of the Junto. There is, perhaps, no parallel in history, ancient or modern, to the authority exercised by this council, during twenty troubled years, over the Whig body. The men who acquired that authority in the days of William and Mary continued to possess it, without interruption, in office and out of office, till George the First was on the throne. One of these men w'as Kussell. Of his shameful dealings with the Court of Saint Germains we possess proofs which leave no room for doubt. But no such proofs were laid before the world till he had been many years dead. If rumours of his guilt got abroad, they were vague and improbable: they rested on no evidence: they could be traced to no trustworthy author; and they might well be regarded by his contemporaries as Jacobite should hardly expect to find it., Hastings says, in the Third Part of Ilcnry the Sixth, “Let us be back’d with God and with the seas Which He hath given for fence impregnable, And witli their helps alone defend ourselves.” “This,” says Johnson in a note, “has been the advice of every rnanwho, in any ago, understood and favoured the interest of England.” WILLIAM AND MABY. 259 calumnies. What was quite certain was that he sprang from an citap. illustrious house, which had done and suffered great things for —^— liberty and for the Protestant religion, that he had signed the invitation of the thirtieth of June, that he had landed with the Deliverer at Torbay, that he had in Parliament, on all occasions, spoken and voted as a zealous Whig, that he had won a great victory, that he had saved his country from an invasion, and that, since he had left the Admiralty, every thing had gone wrong. We cannot therefore wonder that his influence over his party should have been considerable. But the greatest man among the members of the Junto, Somers, and, in some respects, the greatest man of that age, was the Lord Keeper Somers. Pie was equally eminent as a jurist and as a politician, as an orator and as a writer. His speeches have perished: but his State papers remain, and are models of terse, luminous, and dignified eloquence. He had left a great reputation in the House of Commons, where he had, during four years, been always heard with delight; and the AVhig members still looked up to him as their leader, and still held their meetings under his roof. In the great place to which he had recently been promoted, he had so borne himself that, after a very few months, even faction and envy had ceased to murmur at his elevation. In truth, he united all the qualities of a great judge, an intellect comprehensive, quick and acute, diligence, integrity, patience, suavity. In council, the calm wisdom which he possessed, in a measure rarely found among men of parts so quick and of opinions so decided as his, acquired for him the authority of an oracle. The superiority of his powers appeared not less clearly in private circles. The charm of his conversation was heightened by the frankness with which he poured out his thoughts.* His good temper and his good * Swift in his Inquiry into the Behaviour of the Queen’s last Ministry, mentions Somers as a person of great abilities, who used to talk in so 17 * 260 niSTOET OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. JU93. breeding never failed. His gesture, his look, his tones were expressive of benevolence. His humanity was the more remarkable, because he had received from nature a body such as is generally found united xvith a peevish and irritable mind. His life was one long malady, his nerves were weak: his complexion xvas livid: his face was prematurely wrinkled. Yet his enemies could not pretend that he had ever once, during a long and troubled public life, been goaded, even by sudden provocation, into vehemence inconsistent with the mild dignity of his character. All that was left to them xvas to assert that his disposition xvas very far from being so gentle as the xvorld believed, that he xvas really prone to the angry passions, and that sometimes, xvhile his voice was soft, and his words kind and courteous, his delicate frame xvas almost convulsed by suppressed emotion. It xvill perhaps be thought that this reproach is the highest of all eulogies. The most accomplished men of those times have told us that there xvas scarcely any subject on xvhich Somers xvas not competent to instruct and to delight. He had never travelled; and, in that age, an Englishman xvho had not travelled xvas generally thought incompetent to give an opinion on works of art. But connoisseurs familiar xvith the masterpieces of the Vatican and of the Florentine gallery alloxved that the taste of Somers in frank a manner that he seemed to discover the bottom of his heart. In the Memoirs relating to the Change in the Queen’s Ministry, Swift says that Somers had one and only one unconversable fault, formality. It is not very easy to understand how the same man can be the most unreserved of companions, and yet err on the side of formality. Yet there may be truth in both the descriptions. It is well known that Swift loved to take rude liberties with men of high rank, and fancied that, by doing so, he asserted his own independence. lie has been justly blamed fur this fault by his two illustrious biographers, both of them men of spirit at least as independent as his, Samuel Johnson and Walter Scott. I suspect that ho showed a disposition to behave with offensive familiarity to Somers, and that Somers, not choosing to submit to impertinence, and not wishing to be forced to resent it, resorted, in selfdefence, to a ceremonious politeness which he never would have practised towards Locke or Addison. WILLIAM AND MART. 261 painting and sculpture was exquisite. Philology was one of his favourite pursuits. He had traversed the whole vast range of - polite literature, ancient and modern. He was at once a munificent and severely judicious patron of genius and learning. Locke owed opulence to Somers. By Somers Addison was drawn forth from a cell in a college. In distant countries the name of Somers was mentioned with respect and gratitude by great scholars and poets who had never seen his face. He was the benefactor of Leclerc. He was the friend of Filicaja. Neither political nor religious differences prevented him from extending his powerful protection to merit. Hickes, the fiercest and most intolerant of all the nonjurors, obtained, by the influence of Somers, permission to study Teutonic antiquities in freedom and safety. Vertue, a strict Roman Catholic, was raised by the discriminating and liberal patronage of Somers from poverty and obscurity to the first rank among the engravers of the age. The generosity with which Somers treated his opponents was the more honourable to him because he was no waverer in politics. From the beginning to the end of his public life he was a steady Whig. His voice was indeed always raised, when his party was dominant in the State, against violent and vindictive counsels; but he never forsook his friends, even when their perverse neglect of his advice had brought them to the verge of ruin. His powers of mind and his acquirements were not denied, even by his detractors. The most acrimonious Tories were forced to admit, with an ungracious snarl, which increased the value of their praise, that he had all the intellectual qualities of a great man, and that in him alone, among his contemporaries, brilliant eloquence and wit were to be found associated with the quiet and steady prudence which ensures success in life. It is a remarkable fact, that, in the foulest of all the many libels CHAP. xx. 10U3. 262 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. 1693 . that were published against him, he was slandered under the name of Cicero. As his abilities could not be questioned, he was charged with irreligion and immorality. That he was heterodox all the country vicars and foxhunting squires firmly believed: but as to the nature and extent of his heterodoxy there were many different opinions. He seems to have been a Low Churchman of the school of Tillotson, whom he always loved and honoured; and he was, like Tillotson, called by bigots a Presbyterian, an Arian, a Socinian, a Deist, and an Atheist. The private life of this great statesman and magistrate was malignantly scrutinised; and tales were told about his libertinism which went on growing till they became too absurd for the credulity even of party spirit. At last, long after he had been condemned to flannel and chicken broth, a wretched courtesan, who had probably never seen him except in the stage box at the theatre, when she W'as following her vocation below in a mask, published a lampoon in which she described him as the master of a haram more costly than the Great Turk’s. There is, however, reason to believe that there was a small nucleus of truth round which this great mass of fiction gathered, and that the wisdom and selfcommand which Somers never wanted in the senate, on the judgment seat, at the council board, or in the society of wits, scholars and philosophers, were not always proof against female attractions.* * The eulogies on Somers and the invectives against him are innumerable. Perhaps the best way to come to a just judgment would be to collect all that has been said about him by Swift and by Addison. They were the two keenest observers of their time; and they both knew him well. But it ought to bo remarked that, till Swift turned Tory, he always extolled Somers, not only as the most accomplished, but as the most virtuous of men. In the dedication of the Tale of a Tub are these words, “There is no virtue, eithor of a public or private life, which some circumstances of your own have not often produced upon the stage of the world; 1 ’ and again, “I should be very loth the bright examplo of your ■WILLIAM AKD MARY. 263 Another director of the Whig party was Charles Montague, cttap. He was often, when he had risen to power, honours and riches, ]a| j — called an upstart by those who envied his success. That they .Montague, should have called him so may seem strange; for few of the statesmen of his time could show such a pedigree as his. He sprang from a family as old as the Conquest: he was in the succession to an earldom, and was, by the paternal side, cousin of three earls. But he was the younger son of a younger brother; and that phrase had, ever since the time of Shak- speare and Raleigh, and perhaps before their time, been proverbially used to designate a person so poor as to be broken to the most abject servitude or ready for the most desperate adventure. Charles Montague was early destined for the Church, was entered on the foundation of Westminster, and, after distinguishing himself there by skill in Latin versification, was sent up to Trinity College, Cambridge. At Cambridge the philosophy of lies Cartes was still dominant in the schools. But a few select spirits’had separated from the crowd, and formed a fit audience round a far greater teacher.* Conspicuous among the youths of high promise who were proud to sit at the feet of Newton was the quick and versatile Montague. Under such guidance the young student made considerable proficiency in the severe sciences: but poetry was his favourite pursuit; and when the University invited her sons to celebrate royal marriages and funerals, he w r as generally allowed to have surpassed his competitors. His fame travelled to London: he was thought a clever lad by the wits who met at Will’s, and the Lordship’s virtues should bo lost to other eyes, both for their sako and your own.” In the Discourse of the Contests and Dissensions at Athens and Rome, Somers is the just Aristides. After Swift had ratted ho described Somers as a man who ’’possessed ail excellent qualifications except virtue.” * See Whiston’s Autobiography. 264 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. chap, lively parody which he wrote, in concert with his friend and xx - fellow student Prior, on Dryden’s Hind and Panther, w r as re- ceived with great applause. At this time all Montague’s wishes pointed towards the Church. At a later period, when he was a peer with twelve thousand a year, when his villa on the Thames was regarded as the most delightful of all suburban retreats, when he was said to revel in Tokay from the Imperial cellar, and in soups made out of birds’ nests brought from the Indian Ocean, and costing three guineas a piece, his enemies were fond of reminding him that there had been a time when he had eked out by his wits an income of barely fifty pounds, when he had been happy with a trencher of mutton chops-and a flagon of ale from the College buttery, and when a tithe pig was the rarest luxury for which he had dared to hope. The Revolution came, and changed his whole scheme of life. He obtained, by the influence of Dorset, who took a peculiar pleasure in befriending young men of promise, a seat in the House of Commons. Still, during a few months, the needy scholar hesitated between politics and divinity. But it soon became clear that, in the new order of things, parliamentary ability must fetch a higher price than any other kind of ability; and he felt that in parliamentary ability he had no superior. He was in the very situation for which he was peculiarly fitted by nature; and during some years his life was a series of triumphs. Of him, as of several of his contemporaries, especially of Mulgrave and of Sprat, it may be said that his fame has suffered from the folly of those editors who, down to our own time, have persisted in reprinting his rhymes among the works of the British poets. There is not a year in which hundreds of verses as good as any that he ever wrote are not sent in for the New- digate prize at Oxford and for the Chancellor’s medal at Cambridge. His mind had indeed great quickness and vigour, but WILLIAM AXD MALI. 2G5 not that kind of quickness and vigour which produces great dramas or odes: and it is most unjust to him that his Man of Honour and his Epistle on the Battle of the Boyne should he placed side by side with Cornus and Alexander’s Feast. Other eminent statesmen and orators, Walpole, Pultenev, Chatham, Fox, wrote poetry not better than his. But fortunately for them, their metrical compositions were never thought worthy to be admitted into any collection of our national classics. It has long been usual to represent the imagination under the figure of awing, and to call the successful exertions of the imagination flights. One poet is the eagle: another is the swan: a third modestly compares himself to the bee. But none of these types would have suited Montague. His genius may be compared to that pinion which, though it is too weak to lift the ostrich into the air, enables her, while she remains on the earth, to outrun hound, horse and dromedary. If the man who possesses this kind of genius attempts to ascend the heaven of invention, his awkward and unsuccessful efforts expose him to derision. But if he will he content to stay in the terrestrial region of business, he will find that the faculties which Would not enable him to soar into a higher sphere will enable him to distance all his competitors in the lower. As a poet Montague could never have risen above the crowd. But in the House of Commons, now' fast becoming supreme in the State, and extending its control over one executive department after another, the young adventurer soon obtained a place very different from the place which he occupies among men of letters. At thirty, he would gladly have given all his chances in life for a comfortable vicarage and a chaplain’s scarf. At thirty seven, he was First Lord of the Treasury, Chancellor of the Exchequer and a Regent of the kingdom; and this elevation he owed not at all to favour, but solely to the unquestionable superiority of his talents for administration and debate. chap. xx. i tiaa. chap. XX. 1033 . 2GG IIISXOfiY or ENGLAND. The extraordinary ability with which, at tiie beginning of the year 1692, he managed the conference on the Bill for regulating Trials in cases of Treason, placed him at once in the first rank of parliamentary orators. On that occasion he was opposed to a crowd of veteran senators renowned for their eloquence, Halifax, Rochester, Nottingham, Mulgrave, and proved himself a match for them all. Ho was speedily seated at the Board of Treasury; and there the clearheaded and experienced Godolphin soon found that his young colleague was his master. When Somers had quitted the House of Commons, Montague had no rival there. Sir Thomas Littleton, once distinguished as the ablest debater and man of business among the Whig members, was content to serve under his junior. To this day we may discern in many parts of our financial and commercial system the marks of the vigorous intellect and daring spirit of Montague. His bitterest enemies were unable to deny that some of the expedients which he had proposed had proved highly beneficial to the nation. But it was said that these expedients were not devised by himself. He was represented, in a hundred pamphlets, as the daw in borrowed plumes. He had taken, it was affirmed, the hint of every one of his great plans from the writings or the conversation of some ingenious speculator. This reproach was, in truth, no reproach. We can scarcely expect to find in the same human being the talents which are necessary for the making of new discoveries in political science, and the talents which obtain the assent of divided and tumultuous assemblies to great practical reforms. To be at once an Adam Smith and a Pitt is scarcely possible. It is surely praise enough for a busy politician that he knows how to use the theories of others, that he discerns, among the schemes of innumerable projectors, the precise scheme which is wanted and which is practicable, that he shapes it to suit pressing circumstances and popular WILLIAM AND MA11Y. 267 humours, that he proposes it just when it is most likely to be ciiap. favourably received, that he triumphantly defends it against—— all objectors, and that he carries it into execution with prudence and energy; and to this praise no English statesman has a fairer claim than Montague. It is a remarkable proof of his selfknowledge that, from the moment at which he began to distinguish himself in public life, he ceased to be a versifier. It does not appear that, after he became a Lord of the Treasury, he ever wrote a couplet, with the exception of a few well turned lines inscribed on a set of toasting glasses which were sacred to the most renowned Whig beauties of his time. He wisely determined to derive from the poetry of others a glory which he never would have derived from his own. As a patron of genius and learning he ranks with his two illustrious friends, Dorset and Somers. Ilis munificence fully equalled theirs; and, though he was inferior to them in delicacy of taste, he succeeded in associating his name inseparably with some names which will last as long as our language. Yet it must be acknowledged that Montague, with admirable parts and with many claims on the gratitude of his country, had great faults, and unhappily faults not of the noblest kind. His head was not strong enough to bear without giddiness the speed of his ascent and the height of his position. He became offensively arrogant and vain. He W'as too often cold to his old friends, and ostentatious in displaying his new riches. Above all, he was insatiably greedy of praise, and liked it best when it was of the coarsest and rankest quality. But, in 1693, these faults were less offensive than they became a few years later. IVith Russell, Somers and Montague, was closely con-Wharion. nected, during a quarter of a century a fourth Whig, who in character bore little resemblance to any of them. This was 2G8 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CITAP. XX. Tim. Thomas "Wharton, eldest son of Philip Lord Wharton. Thomas Wharton has been repeatedly mentioned in the course of this narrative. But it is now time to describe him more fully. He was in his forty-seventh year, but was still a young man in constitution, in appearance and in manners. Those who hated him most heartily, — and no man was hated more heartily, —- admitted that his natural parts were excellent, and that he was equally qualified for debate and for action. The history of his mind deserves notice: for it was the history of many thousands of minds. ITis rank and abilities made him so conspicuous that in him we are able to trace distinctly the origin and progress of a moral taint which was epidemic among his contemporaries. He was born in the days of the Covenant, and was the heir of a covenanted house. Ilis father was renowned as a distributor of Calvinistic tracts, and a patron of Calvinistic divines. The boy’s first years were past amidst Geneva bands, heads of lank hair, upturned eyes, nasal psalmody, and sermons three hours long. Plays and poems, hunting and dancing, were proscribed by the austere discipline of his saintly family'. The fruits of this education became visible, when, from the sullen mansion of Puritan parents, the hOtblooded, quickwitted young patrician emerged into the gay and voluptuous London of the Itestoration. The most dissolute cavaliers stood aghast at the dissoluteness of the emancipated precisian. He early acquired and retained to the last the reputation of being the greatest rake in England. Of wine indeed he never became the slave; and he used it chiefly for the purpose of making himself the master of his associates. But to the end of his long life the wives and daughters of his nearest friends were not safe from his licentious plots. The ribaldry of his conversation moved astonishment even in that age. To the religion of his country he offered, in the mere wantonness of impiety, insults too foul WILLIAM AND MART. 269 to be described. His mendacity and his effrontery passed into proverbs. Of all the liars of his time he was the most deliberate, the most inventive and the most circumstantial. What shame meant he did not seem to understand. No reproaches, even when pointed and barbed with the sharpest wit, appeared to give him pain. Great satirists, animated by a deadly personal aversion, exhausted all their strength in attacks upon him. They assailed him with keen invective: they assailed him v'ith still keener irony; but they found that neither invective nor irony could move him to any thing but an unforced smile and a goodhumoured curse; and they at length threw down the lash, acknowledging that it was impossible to make him feel. That, with such vices, he should have played a great part in life, should have carried numerous elections against the most formidable opposition by his personal popularity, should have had a large following inParliament, should have risen to the highest offices of the State, seems extraordinary. But he lived in times when faction was almost a madness; and he possessed in an eminent degree the qualities of the leader of a faction. There was a single tie which he respected. The falsest of mankind in all relations but one, he was the truest of Whigs. The religious tenets of his family he had early renounced with contempt: but to the politics of his family he stedfastly adhered through all the temptations and dangers of half a century. In small things and in great his devotion to his party constantly appeared. He had the finest stud in England; and his delight was to win plates from Tories. Sometimes wdien, in a distant county, it was fully expected that the horse of a High Church squire would be first on the course, down came, on the very eve of the race, Wharton’s Careless, who had ceased to run at Newmarket merely for want of competitors, or Wharton’s Gelding, for whom Lewis the Fourteenth had in vain offered a thousand pistoles. A man whose mere sport was of this description was not likely CHAP. xx. 1693 . 270 HISTOEY OF ENGLAND. CT1AP. XX. 1UU3. to be easily beaten in any serious contest. Such a master of the whole art of electioneering England had never seen. Buckinghamshire was his own especial province; and there he ruled without a rival. But he extended his care over the Whig interest in Yorkshire, Cumberland, Westmoreland, Wiltshire. Sometimes twenty, sometimes thirty, members of Parliament were named by him. As a canvasser he was irresistible. He never forgot a face that he had once seen. Nay, in the towns in which he wished to establish an interest, he remembered, not only the voters, but their families. His opponents were confounded by the strength of his memory and the affability of his deportment, and owned that it was impossible to contend against a great man who called the shoemaker by his Christian name, who was sure that the butcher’s daughter must be growing a fine girl, and who was anxious to know whether the blacksmith’s youngest boy was breeched. By such arts as these he made himself so popular that his journeys to the Buckinghamshire Quarter Sessions resembled royal progresses. The bells of every parish through which he passed were rung, and flowers were strewed along the road. It was commonly believed that, in the course of his life, he expended on his parliamentary interest not less than eighty thousand pounds, a sum which, when compared with the value of estates, must be considered as equivalent to more than three hundred thousand pounds in our time. But the chief service which Wharton rendered to the Whig party was that of bringing in recruits from the young aristocracy. lie was quite as dexterous a canvasser among the embroidered coats at the Saint James’s Coffeehouse as among the leathern aprons at Wycombe and Aylesbury. He had his eye on every boy of quality who came of age; and it was not easy for such a boy to resist the arts of a noble, eloquent and wealthy flatterer, who unitedjuvenile vivacity to profound art and long WILLIAM AND MAKY. 271 experience of the gay world. It mattered not what the novice preferred, gallantry or field sports, the dieebox or the bottle. Wharton soon found out the master passion, offered sympathy, advice and assistance, and, while seeming to be only the minister of his disciple’s pleasures, made sure of his disciple’s vote. The party to whose interests Wharton, with such spirit and constancy, devoted his time, his fortune, his talents, his very vices, judged him, as was natural, far too leniently. He was widely known by the very undeserved appellation of Honest Tom. Some pious men, Burnet, for example, and Addison, averted their eyes from the scandal which he gave, and spoke of him, not indeed with esteem, yet with goodwill. A most ingenious and accomplished Whig, the third Earl of Shaftesbury, author of the Characteristics, described AVharton as the most mysterious of human beings, as a strange compound of best and worst, of private depravity and public virtue, and owned himself unable to understand how a man utterly without principle in every thing but politics should in politics bo as true as steel. But that which, in the judgment of one faction, more than half redeemed all Wharton’s faults, seemed to the other faction to aggravate them all. The opinion which the Tories entertained of him is expressed in a single line written after his death by the ablest man of that part}'; “He was the most universal villain that ever I knew.”* Wharton’s political adversaries thirsted for his blood, and repeatedly tried to shod it. Had he not been a man of imperturbable temper, dauntless courage and consummate skill in fence, his life would have been a short one. But neither anger nor danger over deprived him of his presence of mind: he was an incomparable swordsman; and he had a peculiar way of disarming opponents which moved the envy of all the duellists of his time. His friends said that * Swift’s note on JIackay’s character of Wharton. CFIAP. XX. 'TtiuiT 272 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. ibw. Chiefs ol the Tory party. he had never given a challenge, that he had never refused one, that he had never taken a life, and yet that he had never fought ■without having his antagonist’s life at his mercy.* The four men who have been described resembled each other so little that it may be thought strange that they should ever have been able to act in concert. They did, however, act in the closest concert during many years. They more than once rose and more than once fell together. But their union lasted till it was dissolved by death. Little as some of them may have deserved esteem, none of them can be accused of having been false to his brethren of the Junto. While the great body of the Whigs was, under these able chiefs, arraying itself in order resembling that of a regular army, the Tories were in the state of an ill drilled and ill officered militia. They were numerous; and they were zealous: but they can hardly be said to have had, at this time, any chief in the House of Commons. The name of Seymour had once been great among them, and had not quite lost its influence. But, since he had been at the Board of Treasury, he had disgusted them by vehemently defending all that he had himself, when out of place, vehemently attacked. They had once looked up to the Speaker, Trevor: but his greediness, impudence and venality were now so notorious that all respectable gentlemen, of all shades of opinion, were ashamed to see him in the chair. Of the old Tory members Sir Christopher Musgrave alone had much weight. Indeed the real leaders of the party were two or three men bred in principles diametrically opposed to Toryism, men who had carried Whiggism to the verge of republicanism, and who had been considered not merely as Low Churchmen, but as more than half Presbyterians. Of these men the most * This account of Montague and Wharton I have collected from innumerable sources. I ought, however, to mention particularly the very curious Life of Wharton published immediately after his death. WILLIAM AND MARY. 273 eminent were two great Herefordshire squires, Robert Harley ohp. and Paul Foley. _ xx ~ The space which Robert Harley fills in the history of three Harley, reigns, his elevation, his fall, the influence which, at a great crisis, he exercised on the politics of all Europe, the close intimacy in which he lived with some of the greatest wits and poets of his time, and the frequent recurrence of his name in the works of Swift, Pope, Arbuthnot and Prior, must always make him an object of interest. Yet the man himself was of all men the least interesting. There is indeed a whimsical contrast between the very ordinary qualities of his mind and the very extraordinary vicissitudes of his fortune. He was the heir of a Puritan family. His father, Sir Edward Harley, had been conspicuous among the patriots of the Long Parliament, had commanded a regiment under Essex, had, after the Restoration, been an active opponent of the Court, had supported the Exclusion Bill, had harboured dissenting preachers, had frequented meetinghouses, and had made himself so obnoxious to the ruling powers that, at the time of the Western Insurrection, he had been placed under arrest, and his house had been searched for arms. When the Dutch army was marching from Torbay towards London, he and his eldest son Robert declared for the Prince of Orange and a free Parliament, raised a large body of horse, took possession ot Worcester, and evinced their zeal against Popery by publicly breaking to pieces, in the High Street of that city, a piece of sculpture which to rigid precisians seemed idolatrous. Soon after the Convention became a Parliament, Robert Harley was sent up to Westminster as member for a Cornish borough. His conduct was such as might have been expected from his birth and education. He was a Whig, and indeed an intolerant and vindictive,Whig. Nothing would satisfy him but a general proscription of the Tories. His name appears in the list of those Macaulay, Ilislory, 17/. 18 274 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. 1693 ' members who voted, for the Sacheverell clause; and, at the general election which took place in the spring of 1690, the party which he had persecuted made great exertions to keep him out of the House of Commons. A cry was raised that the Harleys were mortal enemies of the Church; and this cry produced so much effect that it was with difficulty that any of them could obtain a seat. Such was the commencement of the public life of a man whose name, a quarter of a century later, was inseparably coupled with the High Church in the acclamations of Jacobite mobs.* Soon, however, it began to be observed that in every division Harley was in the company of those gentlemen who held his political opinions in abhorrence: nor was this strange: for he affected the character of a Whig of the old pattern; and before the Revolution it had always been supposed that a Whig was a person who watched with jealousy every exertion of the prerogative, who was slow to loose the strings of the public purse, and who was extreme to mark the faults of the ministers of the Crown. Such a Whig Harley still professed to be. He did not admit that the recent change of dynasty had made any change in the duties of a representative of the people. The new government ought to be observed as suspiciously, checked as severely, and supplied as sparingly as the old one. Acting on these principles he necessarily found himself acting with men whose principles were diametrically opposed to his. He liked to thwart the King: they liked to thwart the usurper: 1 the consequence was that, whenever there was an opportunity of thwarting William, the Roundhead stayed in the House or went into the lobby in company with the whole crowd of Cavaliers. . * Much of my information about the Harleys I have derived from unpublished memoirs written by Edward Harley, younger brother of Robert. A copy of these memoirs is among the Mackintosh MSS. "WILLIAM AND MAKY. 275 Soon Harley acquired the authority of a leader among those with whom, notwithstanding wide differences of opinion, he ordinarily voted. His influence in Parliament was indeed altogether out of proportion to his abilities. His intellect was both small and slow. He was unable to take a large view of any subject. He never acquired the art of expressing himself in public with fluency and perspicuity. To the end of his life he remained a tedious, hesitating and confused speaker.* He had none of the external graces of an orator. His countenance was heavy; his figure mean and somewhat deformed, and his gestures uncouth. Yet he was heard with respect. For, such as his mind was, it had been assiduously cultivated. His youth had been studious; and to the last he continued to love books and the society of men of genius and learning. Indeed he aspired to the character of a wit and a poet, and occasionally employed hours which should have been very differently spent in composing verses more execrable than the bellman’s.** His time however was not always so absurdly wasted. He had that sort of industry and that sort of exactness which "would have made him a respectable antiquary or King at Arms. His taste led him to * The only writer who has praised Harley’s oratory, as far as I remember, is Muckay, who calls him eloquent. Swift scribbled in the margin, “A great lie.” And certainly Swift was inclined to do more than justice to l-Iarley. “That lord,” said Pope, “talked of business in so confused a manner that you did not know what he was about; and every thing he went to tell you was in the epic way; for he always began in the middle.” — Spence’s Anecdotes. ** “He used,” said Pope, “to send trifling verses from Court to the Scriblerus Club almost every day, and would come and talk idly with them almost every night even when his all was at stake.” Some specimens of Harley’s poetry are in print. The best, I think, is a stanza which he made on his own fall in 1714; and bad is the best. “To serve with love, And shed your blood, Approved is above; But here below The examples show ’Tis fatal to be good.” CfiAP. XX. 1693. y 18 * 276 HISTOBY OF ENGLAND, CHAP. XX. ItiM. plod among old records; and in that age it was only by plodding ■ among old records that any man could obtain an accurate and extensive knowledge of the laxv of Parliament. Having few rivals in this laborious and unattractive pursuit, he soon began to be regarded as an oracle on questions of form and privilege. His moral character added not a little to his influence. He had indeed great vices; hut they were not of a scandalous kind. He was not to he corrupted by money. His private life was regular. No illicit amour was imputed to him even by satirists. Gambling he held in aversion; and it xvas said that he never passed White’s, then the favourite haunt of noble sharpers and dupes, without an exclamation of anger. His practice of flustering himself daily with claret was hardly considered as a fault by his contemporaries. His knowledge, his grax'ity and his independent position gained for him the ear of the House; and even his bad speaking was, in some sense, an advantage to him. For people are very loth to admit that-the same man can unite very different kinds of excellence. It is soothing to envy to believe that what is splendid cannot be solid, that xvhat is clear cannot be profound. Very slowly was the public brought to acknowledge that Mansfield was a great jurist, and that Burke was a great master of political science. Montague was a brilliant rhetorician, and,' therefore, though he had ten times Harley’s capacity for the driest parts of business, was represented by detractors as a. superficial, prating pretender. But from the absence of show in Harley’s discourses many people inferred that there must be much substance; and he was pronounced to be a deep read, deep thinking gentleman, not a fine talker, but fitter to direct affairs of state than all the fine talkers in the xvorld. This character he long supported with that cunning which is frequently found in company with ambitious and unquiet mediocrity. He constantly had, even xvith his best friends, an air of mystery and reserve which seemed to indicate that he knew WIIIIAM AND MAIlY. 277 some momentous secret, and that his mind was labouring with ciiaf. some vast design. In this way he got and long kept a high re-__ xx -. _ putation for wisdom. It was not till that reputation had made him an Earl, a Knight of the Garter, Lord High Treasurer of England, and master of the fate of Europe, that his admirers began to find out that he was really a dull puzzleheaded man.* Soon after the general election of 1690, Harley, generally voting with the Tories, began to turn Tory. The change was so gradual as to be almost imperceptible, but was not the less real. He early began to hold the Tory doctrine that England ought to confine herself to a maritime war. He early felt the true Tory antipathy to Dutchmen and to moneyed men. The antipathy to Dissenters, which was necessary to the completeness of the character, came much later. At length the transformation was complete; and the old haunter of conventicles became an intolerant High Churchman. Yet to the last the traces of his early breeding would now and then show themselves; and, while he acted after the fashion of Laud, he sometimes wrote in the style of Praise God Barebones.** Of Paul Foley we know comparatively little. His history, Foley, up to a certain point, greatly resembles that of Harley: but he appears to have been superior to Harley both in parts and in elevation of character. He was the son of Thomas Foley, a new man, but a man of great merit, who, having begun life with * The character of Harley is to be collected from innumerable panegyrics and lampoons; from the works and the private correspondence of Swift, Pope, Arbuthnot, Prior and Bolingbroke, and from multitudes of such works as Ox and Bull, the High German Doctor, and The History of Robert Powell the Puppet Showman. #* In a letter dated Sept. 12. 1709, a short time before he was brought into power on the shoulders of the I-Iigh Church mob, he says: “My soul has been among lyons, even the sons of men, whose teeth are spears and arrows, and their tongues sharp swords. But I learn how good it is to wait on the Lord, and to possess one’s soul in peace.” The letter was to Carstairs. I doubt whether Harley would have canted thus if he had been writing lo Attcrbury. 278 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. chap nothing, had created a noble estate by ironworks, and who was “Tom— renowned for his spotless integrity and his munificent charity. The Foleys were, like their neighbours the Harleys, Whigs and Puritans. Thomas Foley lived on terms of close intimacy with Baxter, in whose writings he is mentioned with warm eulogy. The opinions and the attachments of Paul Foley were at first those of his family. But he, like Harley, became, merely from the vehemence of his Whiggism, an ally of the Tories, and might, perhaps, like Harley, have been completely metamorphosed into a Tory, if the process of transmutation had not been interrupted by death. Foley’s abilities were highly respectable, and had been improved by education. He was so wealthy that it was unnecessary for him to follow the law as a profession; but he had studied it carefully as a science. His morals were without stain; and the greatest fault which could be imputed to him was that he paraded his independence and disinterestedness too ostentatiously, and w T as so much afraid of being thought to fawn that he was always growling.' Howe. Another convert ought to be mentioned. Iiow'e, lately the most virulent of the Whigs, had been, by the loss of his place, turned into one of the most virulent of the Tories. The deserter brought to the party which he had joined no weight of character, no capacity or semblance of capacity for great affairs, but much parliamentary ability of a low kind, much spite and much impudence. No speaker of that time seems to have had, in such large measure, both the power and the inclination to give pain. The assistance of these men was most welcome to the Tory party; but it was impossible that they could, as yet, exercise over that party the entire authority of leaders. For they still called themselves Whigs, and generally vindicated then- Tory votes by arguments grounded on Whig principles.* * The anomalous position which Harley and Foley at this time occu- WILLIAM AND MARY. 279 From this view of the state of parties in the House of Commons, it seems clear that Sunderland had good reason fo' recommending that the administration should be’entrusted to the Whigs. The King, however, hesitated long before he could bring himself to quit that neutral position which he had long occupied between the contending parties. If one of those parties was disposed to question his title, the other w'as on principle hostile to his prerogative. He still remembered with bitterness the unreasonable and vindictive conduct of the Convention Parliament at the close of 1689 and the beginning of 1690; and he shrank from the thought of being entirely in the hands of the men who had obstructed the Bill of Indemnity, who had voted for the Sacheverell clause, who had tried to prevent him from taking the, command of his army in Ireland, and who had called him an ungrateful tyrant merely because he would not be their sfave and their hangman. He had once, by a bold and unexpected effort, freed himself from their yoke; and he was not inclined to put it on his neck again. He personally disliked Wharton and Russell. He thought highly of the capacity of Caermarthen, of the integrity of Nottingham, of the diligence and financial skill of Godolphin. It was only by slow degrees that the arguments of Sunderland, backed by the force of circumstances, overcame all objections. On the seventh of November 1693 the Parliament met; and the conflict of parties instantly began. William from the throne pressed on the Houses the necessity of making a great exertion to arrest the progress of France on the Continent. During the pied is noticed in the Dialogue between a Whig and a Tory, 1693. “Your great P. Fo—y,” says the Tory, “turns cadet, and carries arms under the General of the West Saxons. The two Har—ys, father and son, are engineers under the late Lieutenant of the Ordnance, and bomb any bill which he hath once resolv’d to reduce to ashes.” Seymour is the General of the West Saxons. Musgrhve had been Lieutenant of the Ordnance in the reign of Charles the Second. CHAP. XX. U>U3. Meeting' of Parliament, 280 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP, last campaign, he said, she had, on every point, had asupe- ni!)3. riority of force; and it had therefore been found impossible to cope with her. His allies had promised to increase their armies; and he trusted that the Commons would enable him to do the same.* Debates' The Commons at their next sitting took the King’s speech naval mis. into consideration. The miscarriage of the Smyrna fleet was carriages, su ]jj eo t 0 f discussion. The cry for inquiry was universal: but it was evident that the two parties raised that cry for very different reasons. Montague spoke the sense of the AVhigs. He declared that the disasters of the summer could not, in his opinion, be explained by the ignorance and imbecility of those who had charge of the naval administration. There must have been treason. It was impossible to believe that Lewis, when he sent his Brest squadron to the Straits of Gibraltar, and left the whole coast of his kingdom from Dunkirk to Bayonne unprotected, had trusted merely to chance. He must have been well assured that his fleet would meet with a vast booty under a feeble convoy. As there had been treachery in some quarters, there had been incapacity in others. The State was ill served. And then the orator pronounced a warm panegyric on his friend Somers. “AVould that all men in power would follow the example of my Lord Keeper! If all patronage were bestowed as judiciously and disinterestedly as his, we should not see the public offices filled with men who draw salaries and perform no duties.” It was moved and carried unanimously, that the Commons would support their Majesties, and would forthwith proceed to investigate the causes of the disaster in the Bay of Lagos.** The Lords of the Admiralty were directed to produce a great mass of documentary evidence. The King sent down copies of the examinations taken before the Com- * Lords’ and Commons’ Journals, Nov. 7. 1693. ** Commons’Journals, Nov. 13. 1693; Grey’s Debates. •WILLIAM AND MART. 281 inittee of Council ‘which Mary had appointed to inquire into the grievances of the Turkey merchants. The Turkey merchants themselves were called in and interrogated. Rooke, though too ill to stand or speak, was brought in a chair to the bar, and there delivered in a narrative of his proceedings. The Whigs soon thought that sufficient ground had been laid for a vote condemning the naval administration, and moved a resolution attributing the miscarriage of the Smyrna fleet to notorious and treacherous mismanagement. That there had been mismanagement could not be disputed; but that there had been foul play had certainly not been proved. The Tories proposed that the word “treacherous” should be omitted. A division took place; and the< Whigs carried their point by a hundred and forty votes to a hundred and .three. Wharton was a teller for the majority.* It was now decided that there had been treason, but not who was the traitor. Several keen debates followed. The Whigs tried to throw the blame on Killegrew and Delaval, who were Tories: the Tories did their best to make out that the fault lay with the Victualling Department, which W'as under the direction of Whigs. But the House of Commons has always been much more ready to pass votes of censure drawn in general terms than to brand individuals by name. A resolution clearing the Victualling Office was proposed by Montague, and carried, after a debate of two days, by a hundred and eighty eight votes to a hundred and fifty two.** But when the victorious party brought forward a motion inculpating the admirals, the Tories came up in great numbers from the country, and, after a debate which lasted from nine in the morning till near eleven at night, succeeded in saving their friends. The Noes were a hundred and seventy, and the Ayes only a hundred * Commons’Journals, November 37. 1693. ** Commons’Journals, Nov. 22. 27. 1693; Grey’s Debates. CIIAP. XX. Hi93, 282 Bistort op England. chap, and sixty one. Another attack was made a few days later with ■■ j' |ja3 — no better success. The Noes were a hundred and eighty five, the Ayes only a hundred and seventy five. The indefatigable and implacable Wharton 'was on both occasions teller for the minority.* Bussell In spite of this check the advantage was decidedly with the Whigs. The Tories who were at the head of the naval ad- Adm ,ra i- m i n ; s trati 0 n had indeed escaped impeachment: but the escape had been so narrow that it was impossible for the King to employ them any longer. The advice of Sunderland prevailed. A new Commission of Admiralty was prepared; and Russell was named First Lord. He had already been appointed to the command of the Channel fleet. Retire- His elevation made it necessary that Nottingham should Hotting- retire. For, though it was not then unusual to see men who were personally and politically hostile to each other holding high offices at the same time, the relation between the First Lord of the Admiralty and the. Secretary of State, who had charge of what would now be called the War Department, was of so peculiar a nature that the public service could not be well conducted without cordial cooperation between them; and between Nottingham and Russell such cooperation was not to be expected. “I thank you,” William said to Nottingham, “for your services. I have nothing to complain of in your conduct. It is only from necessity that I part with you.” Nottingham retired with dignity. Though a very honest man, he went out of office much richer than he had come in five years before. What were then considered as the legitimate emoluments of his place were great: he had sold Kensington House to the Crown for a large sum; and he had probably, after the fashion of that time, obtained for himself some lucrative grants. * Commons’ Journals, Nov. 29. Dec. 6. 1693; L’llermitage, Dec. 1693. wiiiiam And maky. 283 He laid out all his gains in purchasing land. He heard, he chap. said, that his enemies meant to accuse him of having acquired —■ ■wealth by illicit means. He was perfectly ready to abide the issue of an inquiry. He would not, as some ministers had done, place his fortune beyond the reach of the justice of his country. He would have no secret hoard. He would invest nothing in foreign funds. His property should all be such as could be readily discovered and seized.* During some weeks the seals which Nottingham had deli-shrews-' ° , bury re-V vered up remained in the royal closet. To dispose of them fuses proved no easy matter. They were offered to Shrewsbury, who of all the Whig leaders stood highest in the King’s favour: but Shrewsbury excused himself, and, in order to avoid further importunity, retired into the country. There he soon received a pressing letter from Elizabeth Villiers. This lady had, when a girl, inspired William with a passion which had caused much scandal and much unhappiness in the little Court of the Hague. Her influence over him she owed not to her personal charms, — for it tasked all the art of Kneller to make her look tolerably on canvass, — not to those talents which peculiarly belong to her sex, — for she did not excel in playful talk, and her letters are remarkably deficient in feminine ease and grace, — but to powers of mind which qualified her to partake the cares and guide the counsels of statesmen. To the end of her life great politicians sought her advice. Even Swift, the shrewdest and most cynical of her contemporaries, pronounced her the wisest of.women, and more than once sate ,■ fascinated by her conversation, from two in the afternoon till near midnight.** By degrees the virtues and charms of Mary conquered the first place in her husband’s affection. But he still, in difficult * TVIIermitage, Sept. r \., Nov. T 7 7 . 1693. ’#* See the Journal to Stella, lii. liii. lix. lxi.; and Lady Orkney’s Letters to Swift. 284 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX, 1093 . Debates about the trade with India. conjunctures, frequently applied to Elizabeth Villiers for advice and assistance. She now implored Shrewsbury to reconsider his determination, and not to throw away the opportunity of uniting the Whig party for ever. Wharton and Russell wrote to the same effect. In reply came flimsy and unmeaning excuses: “I am not qualified for a court life: I am unequal to a place which requires much exertion: I do not quite agree with any party in the State: in short, I am unfit for the world: I want to travel: I want to see Spain.” These were mere pretences. Had Shrewsbury spoken the whole truth, he would have said that he had, in an evil hour, been false to the cause of that Revolution in which he had borne so great a part, that he had entered into engagements of which he repented, but from which he knew not how to extricate himself, and that, while he remained under those engagements, he was unwilling to enter into the service of the existing government. Marlborough, Godolphin and Russell, indeed, had no scruple about corresponding with one King while holding office under the other. But Shrewsbury had, what was wanting to Marlborough, Godolphin and Rusell, a conscience, a conscience which indeed too often failed to restrain him from doing wrong, but which never failed to punish him.* In consequeuce of his refusal to accept the Seals, the ministerial arrangements which the King had planned were not carried into entire effect till the end of the session. Meanwhile the proceedings of the two Houses had been highly interesting and important. Soon after theParliament met, the attention of the Commons was again called to the state of the trade with India; and the charter which had just been granted to the Old Company was laid before them. They would probably have been disposed to * See tlie letters written at this time by Elizabeth Villiers, Wharton, Russell and Shrewsbury, in the Shrewsbury Correspondence. WILLIAM AND MARY. 285 sanction the new arrangement, which, in truth, differed little from that which they had themselves suggested not many- months before, if the Directors had acted with prudence. But the Directors, from the day on which they had obtained then- charter, had persecuted the interlopers without mercy, and had quite forgotten that it was one thing to persecute interlopers in the Eastern Seas, and another to persecute them in the port of London. Hitherto the war of the monopolists against the private trade had been generally carried on at the distance of fifteen thousand miles from England. If harsh things were done, the English did not see them done, and did not hear of them till long after they had been done; nor was it by any means easy to ascertain at Westminster who had been right and who had been wrong in a dispute which had arisen three or four years before at Moorshedabad or Canton. AVith incredible rashness the Directors determined, at the very moment when the fate of their Company was in the balance, to give the people of this country a near view of the most odious features of the monopoly. Some wealthy merchants of London had equipped a fine ship named the Redbridge. Her crew was numerous, her cargo of immense value. Her papers had been made out for Alicant: but there was some reason to suspect that she was really bound for the countries lying beyond the; Cape of Good Hope. She was stopped by the Admiralty, in obedience to an order which the Company obtained from the Privy Council, doubtless by the help of the Lord President. Every day that she lay in the Thames caused a heavy expense to the ow-ners. The indignation in the City'M-as great and general. The Company maintained that from the legality of the monopoly the legality of the detention necessarily followed. The public turned the argument round, and, being firmly convinced that the detention was illegal, drew the inference that the monopoly must be illegal too. The dispute was at the CTIA1'. xx. 1S93. 286 HISTORY OF EJrGIAJTD. CHAP. XX. JS!)3. height when the Parliament met. Petitions on both sides ■were speedily laid on the table of the Commons; and it was resolved that these petitions should be taken into consideration by a Committee of the whole House. The first question on which the conflicting parties tried their strength was the choice of a chairman. The enemies of the Old Company proposed Papillon, once the closest ally and subsequently the keenest opponent of Child, and carried their point by a hundred and thirty eight votes to a hundred and six. The Committee proceeded to inquire by what authority the Redbridge had been stopped. One of her owners, Gilbert Heathcote, a rich merchant and a stanch Whig, appeared at the bar as a witness. He was asked whether he would venture to deny that the ship had really been fitted out for the Indian trade. “It is no sin that I know of,” he answered, “to trade with India; and I shall trade with India till I am restrained by Act of Parliament.” Papillon reported that in the opinion of the Committee, the detention of the Redbridge was illegal. The question was then put, that the House would agree with the Committee. The Mends of the Old Company ventured on a second division, and were defeated by a hundred and seventy one votes to a hundred and twenty five.* , The blow was quickly followed up. A few days later it was moved that all subjects of England had equal right to trade to the East Indies unless prohibited by Act of Parliament; and the supporters of the Old Company, sensible that they were in a minority, suffered the motion to pass without a division.** This memorable vote settled the most important of the constitutional questions which had been left unsettled by the * Commons’ Journals', Jan. 6. 8. 169|. : ** Ibid. Jan. 19, 169|. WILLIAM AND MAST. 287 Bill of Rights. It has ever since been held to be the sound doctrine that no power but that of the whole legislature can - give to any person or to any society an exclusive privilege of trading to any part of the world. The opinion of the great majority of the House of Commons was that the Indian trade could be advantageously carried on only by means of a joint stock and a monopoly. It might therefore have been expected that the resolution which destroyed the monopoly of the Old Company would have been immediately followed by a law granting a monopoly to the New Company. No such law, however, was passed. The Old Company, though not strong enough to defend its own privileges, was able, with the help of its Tory friends, to prevent the rival association from obtaining similar privileges. The consequence was that, during some years, there was nominally a free trade with India. In fact, the trade still lay under severe restrictions. The private adventurer found indeed no difficulty in sailing from England: but his situation was as perilous as ever when he had turned the Cape of Good Hope. Whatever respect might be paid to a vote of the House of Commons by public functionaries in London, such a vote was, at Bombay or Calcutta, much less regarded than a private letter from Child; and Child still continued to fight the battle with unbroken spirit. He sent out to the factories of the Company orders that no indulgence should be shown to the intruders. For the House of Commons and for its resolutions he expressed the bitterest contempt. “Be guided by my instructions,” he wrote, “and not by the nonsense of a few ignorant country gentlemen who have hardly wit enough to manage their own private affairs, and who know nothing at all about questions of trade'.” It appears that his directions were obeyed. Every where in the East, during this period of anarchy, the servant of the Company and the independent merchant waged war on each other, accused each other of CHAP. . xx. I(i93. 288 HISTOKY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. i«£l3. Bill for theRegu- Jation of Trials in cises of Treason, piracy, and tried by every artifice to exasperate the Mogul - government against each other. * ** The three great constitutional questions of the pi'eceding year were, in this year, again brought under the consideration of Parliament. In the first week of the session, a Bill for the Regulation of Trials in cases of High Treason, a Triennial Bill, and a Place Bill were laid on the table of the House of Commons. None of these bills became a law. The first passed the Commons, but was unfavourably received by the Peers. William took so much interest in the question that he came down to the House of Lords, not in his crown and robes, but in the ordinary dress of a gentleman, and sate through the whole debate on the second reading. Caermarthen spoke of the dangers to which the State was at that time exposed, and entreated his brethren not to give, at such a moment, impunity to traitors. He was powerfully supported by two eminent orators, who had, during some years, been on the uncourtly side of every question, but who, in this session, showed a disposition to strengthen the hands of the government, Halifax and Mulgrave. Marlborough, Rochester and Nottingham spoke for the bill: but the general feeling was so clearly against them that they did not venture to divide. It is probable, however, that the reasons urged by Caermarthen were not the reasons which chiefly swayed his hearers. The Peers were fully determined that the bill should not pass without a clause altering the constitution of the Court of the Lord High Steward: they knew that the Lower House was as fully determined not to pass such a clause; and they thought it better that what must happen at last should happen speedily, and without a quarrel.’ 1 '*, * Hamilton’s New Account. ** The bill I found in the Archives of the Lords. Its history I learned from the Journals of the two Houses, from a passage in the Diary of WILLIAM AKD MARY. 289 The fate of the Triennial Bill confounded all the calculations chap. of the best informed politicians of that time, and may therefore —— well seem extraordinary to us. During the recess, that bill had Tncni a been described in numerous pamphlets, written for the most® 111 ' part by persons zealous for the Revolution and for popular principles of government, as the one thing needful, as the universal cure for the distempers of the State. On the first, second and third readings in the House of Commons no division took place. The Whigs were enthusiastic. The Tories seemed to be acquiescent. It was understood that the King, though he had used his Veto for the purpose of giving the Houses an opportunity of reconsidering the subject, had no intention of offering a pertinacious opposition to their wishes. But Seymour, with a cunning which long experience had matured, after deferring the conflict to the last moment, snatched the victory from his adversaries, when they were most secure. When the Speaker held up the bill in his hands, and put the question whether it should pass, the Noes were a hundred and forty six, the Ayes only a hundred and thirty six. * Some eager Whigs flattered themselves that their defeat was the effect of a surprise, and might be retrieved. AVithin three days, there- Narcissus Luitrell, and from two letters to the States General, both dated Fol>. 27. °n ^.^TiT 3G94, the clay after the debate in the Lords. One of these letters is from Van Citters; the other, which contains fuller information, is from L’llermitage. (> * Commons’ Journals, Nov. 28. 1693; Grey’s Debates. L’llermitage expected that the bill would pass, and that the royal assent would not be withheld. On November ^1. he wrote to the States General, “II paroist dans toute la chambre beaucoup de passion a faire passer ce bil.” On Nov y*. p Lc s — he says that the division on the passing “n’a pas caus£ une pdtito surprise. II cst difficile d’avoir un point fixe stir les id6es qu'on peut se former clcs Emotions du parlement, car il paroist quolquefois de grandcs chaleurs qui semblent devoir tout enflammer, et.qui, peu de terns aprfes, s’^vaporent." That Seymour was the chief manager of the opposition to the bill is asserted in the once celebrated Hush Money pamphlet of that year. Macaulay, History. VII. 19 290 HISTORY OR ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. Hi93. fore, Monmouth, the most ardent and restless man in the whole party, brought into the Upper House a bill substantially the same with that which had so strangely miscarried in the Lower. The Peers passed this bill very expeditiously, and sent it down to the Commons. But in the Commons it found no favour. Many members, who professed to wish that the duration of parliaments should be limited, resented the interference of the hereditary branch of the legislature in a matter which peculiarly concerned the elective branch. The subject, they, said, is one which especially belongs to us: we have considered it: we have come to a decision; and it is scarcely parliamentary, it is certainly most indelicate, in their Lordships, to call upon us to reverse that decision. The question now is, not whether the duration of parliamehts ought to be limited, but whether we ought to submit our judgment to the authority of the Peers, and to rescind, at their bidding, what we did only a fortnight ago. The animosity with which the patrician order was regarded >vas inflamed by the arts and the eloquence of Seymour. The bill contained a definition of the "words, “to hold a Parliament.” This definition was scrutinised with extreme jealousy, and was thought by'many, with very little reason, to have been framed for the purpose of extending the privileges, already, invidiously great, of the nobility. It appears, from the scanty and obscure fragments of the debates which have come down to us, that hitter reflections were thrown on the general conduct, both political and judicial, ,of the Peers. Old Titus, though zealous for triennial parliaments, owned that he was not surprised at the ill humour which many gentlemen showed. “It is true,” he said, “that we ought to be dissolved: but it is rather hard, I must own, that the Lords are to prescribe the time of our dissolution. The Apostle Paul wished to be dissolved: but, I doubt, if his friends had set him a day, he would not have taken it kindly of them.” The WILLIAM AND MA1(Y. 291 bill was rejected by a hundred and ninety seven votes to a hundred and twenty seven.* The Place Bill, differing' very little from the Place Bill which had been brought in twelve months before, passed easily through the Commons. Most of the Tories supported it warmly; and the Whigs did not venture to oppose it. It went up to the Lords, and soon came back completely changed. As it had been originally drawn, it provided that no member of the House of Commons, elected after the first of January 1694, should accept any place of profit under the Crown, on pain of forfeiting his seat, and of being incapable of sitting- again in the same Parliament. The Lords had added the words, “unless he -be afterwards again chosen to serve in the same Parliament.” These words, few as they were, sufficed to deprive the bill of nine tenths of its efficacy, both for good and for evil. It -was most desirable that the crowd of subordinate public functionaries should be kept out of the House of Commons. It was most undesirable that the heads of the great executive departments should be kept out of that House. The bill, as altered, left that House open both to those who ought and to those who ought not to have been admitted. It very properly let in the Secretaries of State and the Chancellor of the Exchequer; but it let in with them Commissioners of Wine Licenses and Commissioners of the Navy, Receivers, Surveyors, Storekeepers, Clerks of the Acts and Clerks of the Cheque, Clerks of the Green Cloth and Clerks of the Great Wardrobe. So little did the Commons understand what they were about that, after * Commons’ Journals; Grey’s Debates. The engrossed copy of this Bill went down to the House of Commons and is lost. The original draught on paper is among the Archives of the Lords. That Monmouth brought in the bill I learned from a letter of L’Hermitage to the States General, Dec. Vt* 1693. As to the numbers on the division, I have followed the Journals. But in Grey’s Debates, and in the letters of Van Cittcrs and L’XIermitage, the minority is said to have been 172. CHAP. XX. Placchill. 19 * 292 HISTOEY OF ENGEAHE. CTIAP. XX. 1693 . framing a law, in one view most mischievous, and in another view most beneficial, they were perfectly willing that it should be transformed into a law quite harmless and almost useless. They agreed to the amendment; and nothing was now wanting but the royal sanction. That sanction certainly ought not to have been withheld, and probably would not have been withheld, if William had known how unimportant the bill now was. But he understood the question as little a3 the Commons themselves. He knew that they imagined that they had devised a most stringent limitation of the royal power; and he was determined not to submit, without a struggle, to any such limitation. He was encouraged by the success with which he had hitherto resisted the attempts of the two Houses to encroach on his prerogative. He had refused to pass the bill which quartered the Judges on his hereditary revenue; and the Parliament had silently acquiesced in the justice of the refusal. He had refused to pass the Triennial Bill; and the Commons had since, by rejecting two Triennial Bills, acknowledged that he had done well. He ought, however, to have considered that, on both these occasions, the announcement of his refusal was immediately followed by the announcement that the Parliament was prorogued. On both these occasions, therefore, the members had half a year to think and to grow cool before the next sitting. The case was now very different. The principal business of the session was hardly begun: estimates were still under consideration: bills of supply were still depending; and, if the Houses should take a fit of ill humour, the consequences might be serious indeed. He resolved, however, to run the risk. Whether he had any adviser is not known. His determination seems to have taken both the leading Whigs and the leadingToriesby surprise. When the Clerk had proclaimed that the King and Queen would consider of the bill touching free and impartial proceedings in •wtxliam: and maet. 293 Parliament, the Commons retired from the bar of the Lords in a resentful and ungovernable mood. As soon as the Speaker was again in his chair there was a long and tempestuous debate. All other business was postponed. All committees -were adjourned. It was resolved that the House would, early the next morning, take into consideration the state of the nation. When the morning came, the excitemeut did not appear to have abated. The mace was sent into Westminster Hall and into the Court of Requests. All members who could be found were brought into the House. That none might be able to steal away unnoticed, the back door was locked, and the key laid on the table. All strangers were ordered to retire. With these solemn preparations began a sitting which reminded a few old men of some of the first sittings of the Long Parliament. High words were uttered by the enemies of the government. Its friends, afraid of being accused of abandoning the cause of the Commons of England for the sake of royal favour, hardly ventured to raise their voices. Montague alone seems to have defended the King. Lowther, though high in office and a member of the cabinet, owned that there were evil influences at ■work, and expressed a wish to see the Sovereign surrounded by counsellors in v'hom the representatives of the people could confide. Harley, Foley and Howe carried every thing before them. A resolution, affirming that those who had advised the Crown on this occasion were public enemies, xvas carried with only two or three Noes. Harley, after reminding his hearers that they had their negative voice as the King had his, and that, if His Majesty refused them redress, they could refuse him money, moved that they should go up to the Throne, not, as usual, with a Humble Address, but with a Representation. Some members proposed to substitute the more respectful word Address: but they were overruled; and a commitee was appointed to draw up the Representation. CHAP. xx. 161 ) 3 . 294 HISTOKY OT? ENGLAND. CHAP. xx. JliiU. Another night passed; and, when the House met again,it ap- ■ peared that the storm had greatly subsided. The malignant j oy and the wild hopesxvhich the Jacobites had,during the last forty eight hours, expressed with their usual imprudence, had incensed and alarmed the Whigs and the moderate Tories. Many members too were frightened by hearing that William was fully determined not to yield without an appeal to the nation. Such an appeal might have been successful: for a dissolution, on any ground whatever, would, at that moment, have been a highly popular exercise of the prerogative. The constituent bodies, it was well known, were generally zealous for the Triennial Bill, and cared comparatively little about the Place Bill. Many Tory members, therefore, who had recently voted against the Triennial Bill, were by no means desirous to run the risks of a general election. When the Representation which Harley and his friends had prepared was read, it was thought offensively strong. After being recommitted, shortened and softened, it was presented by the -whole House. "William’s answer was kind and gentle; but he conceded nothing. He assured the Commons that he remembered with gratitude the support which he had on many occasions received from them, that he should always consider their advice as most valuable, and that he should look on counsellors who might attempt to raise dissension between him and his Parliament as his enemies: but he uttered not a word which could be construed into an acknowledgment that he had used his Veto ill,or into a promise that he would not use it again. The Commons on the morrow took his speech into consideration. Harley and his allies complained that the King’s answer was no answer at all, threatened to tack the Place Bill to a money bill, and proposed to make a second representation pressing His Majesty to explain himself more distinctly. But by this time there was a strong reflux of feeling in the assembly. The Whigs had not only recovered from their dismay, hut were WILLIAM AJTD MART. 295 in high spirits and eager for conflict. Wharton, Russell and Littleton maintained that the House ought to be satisfied with what the King had said. “Do you wish,” said Littleton, “to make sport for your enemies? There is no want of them. They besiege our very doors. We read, as we come through the lobby, in the face and gestures of every nonjinor whom we pass, delight at the momentary coolness which has arisen between us and the King. That should be enough for us. We may be sure that we are voting rightly when we give a vote which tends to confound the hopes of traitors.” The House divided. Harley was a teller on one side, Wharton on the other. Only eighty eight voted with Harley', two hundred and twenty nine with "Wharton. The Whigs were so much elated by their victory that some of them wished to move a vote of thanks to William for his gracious answer: but they were restrained by wiser men. “We have lost time enough already in these unhappy debates,” said a leader of the party. “Let us get to Ways and Means as fast as we can. The best form which our thanks can take is that of a money bill.” Thus ended, more happily than William had a right to expect, one of the most dangerous contests in which he ever engaged with his Parliament. At the Dutch Embassy the rising and going down of this tempest had been watched with intense interest; and the opinion there seems to have been that the King had on the whole lost neither power nor popularity by his conduct. * Another question, which excited scarcely less angry feeling in Parliament and in the country, -was, about the same time, under consideration. On the sixth of December, a Whig * The bill is in the Archives of the Lords. Its history I have collected from the Journals, from Grey’s Debates, and from the highly interesting letters of Van Citters and L’llcrmitage. I think it clear from Grey’s Debates that a speech which LTIermitage attributes to a nameless u quelq’un” was made by Sir Thomas Littleton. CHAP XX. 16i)3. Bill for the Naturalisation ofForeigu Protestants. 296 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. 1633 . member of the House of Commons obt ained leave to bring in a ■bill for the Naturalisation of Foreign Protestants. Plausible arguments in favour of such a bill were not wanting. Great numbers of people, eminently industrious and intelligent, firmly attached to our faith, and deadly enemies of our deadly enemies, were at that time without a country. Among the Huguenots who had fled from the tyranny of the French King were many persons of great fame in war, in letters, in arts and in sciences; and even the humblest refugees were intellectually and morally above the average of the common people of any kingdom in Europe. With French Protestants who had been driven into exile by the edicts of Lewis were now mingled German Protestants who had been driven into exile by his arms. Vienna, Berlin, Basle, Hamburg, Amsterdam, London, swarmed with honest laborious men v'ho had once been thriving burghers of Heidelberg or Manheim, or who had cultivated vineyards along the banks of the Neckar and the Rhine. A statesman might well think that it would be at once generous and politic to invite to the English shores and to incorporate with the English people emigrants so unfortunate and so respectable. Their ingenuity and their diligence could not fail to enrich any land which should afford them an esylum: nor could it be doubtedthat they would manfully defend the country of their adoption against him whose cruelty had driven them from the country of their birth. The first two readings passed without a division. But, on the motion that the bill should be committed, there was a debate in which the right of free speech was most liberally used by the opponents of the government. It was idle, they said, to talk about the poor Huguenots or the poor Palatines. The bill was evidently meant for the benefit, not of French Protestants or German Protestants, but of Dutchmen, who would be Protestants, Papists or Pagans for a guilder a head, and WILLIAM AND MAM. 297 who would, no doubt, be as ready to sign the Declaration chap. against Transubstantiation in England as to trample on the ■ 16a3 — Cross in Japan. They would come over in multitudes. They would swarm in every public office. They would collect the customs, and gauge the beer barrels. Our Navigation Laws would be virtually repealed. Every merchant ship that cleared out from the Thames or the Severn would be manned by Zealanders and Hollanders and Erieslanders. To our own sailors would be left the hard and perilous service of the royal navy. For Hans, after filling the pockets of his huge trunk hose with our money by assuming the character of a native, would, as soon as a pressgang appeared, lay claim to the privileges of an alien. The intruders would soon rule every corporation. They would elbow our own Aldermen off the Royal Exchange. They would buy the hereditary woods and halls of our country gentlemen. Already one of the most noisome of the plagues of Egypt was among us. Frogs had made their appearance even in the royal chambers. Nobody could go to Saint James’s without being disgusted by hearing the reptiles of the Batavian marshes croaking all round him: and if this bill should pass, the whole country would be as much infested by the loathsome brood as the palace already was. The orator who indulged himself most freely in this sort of rhetoric was Sir John Knight, member for Bristol, a coarse- minded and spiteful Jacobite, who, if he had been an honest man, would have been a nonjuror. Two years before, when Mayor of Bristol, he had acquired a discreditable notoriety by treating with gross disrespect a commission sealed with the great seal of the Sovereigns to whom he had repeatedly sworn allegiance, and by setting on the rabble of his city to hoot and pelt the Judges.* He now concluded a savage invective by desiring that the Serjeant at. Arms would open the doors, in * Narcissus Lultrcll’s Diary, September 1691. 298 HISTORY OP ENGLAND. chap, order that the odious roll of parchment, which was nothing ■ Ji; jj — less than a surrender of the birthright of the English people, might be treated with proper contumely. “Let us first,” ho said, “ kick the bill out of the House; and then let us kick the foreigners out of the kingdom.” On a division the motion for committing the bill was earned by a hundred and sixty three votes to a hundred and twenty eight.* But the minority ivas zealous and pertinacious; and the majority speedily began to waver. Knight’s speech, retouched and made more offensive, soon appeared in print without a license. Tens of thousands of copies were circulated by the post, or dropped in the streets; and such was the strength of national prejudice that too many persons read this ribaldry with assent and admiration. But, when a copy was produced in the House, there was such an outbreak of in- dignation and disgust, as cowed even the impudent and savage i J nature of the orator. Finding himself in imminent danger of being expelled and sent to prison, he apologized, and disclaimed all knowledge of the paper which purported to be a report of what he had said. He escaped with impunity: but his speech was voted false, scandalous and seditious, and was burned by the hangman in Palace Yard. The bill which had caused all this ferment was prudently suffered to drop. ** Supply. Meanwhile the Commons were busied with financial questions of grave importance. The estimates for the year 1694 were enor- , ; mous. TheKing proposed to add totheregulararmy, already the * greatest regular army that England had ever supported, fourregi- * Commons' Journals, Jan. 4. 169-jj. ** Of the Naturalisation Bill no copy, I believe, exists. The history of •that bill will be found in the Journals. From Van Citters and I/IIermitage i wo learn less than might have been expected on a subject which must have ; been interesting to Dutch statesmen. Knight’s speech will be found among the Somers Papers. Ho is described by his brother Jacobite, Roger North, ( as “a gentleman of as eminent integrity and loyalty as ever the city of t; ! Bristol was honoured with.” ■WILLIAM AND MAEY. 299 ments of dragoons, eight of horse, and twenty five of infantry, chap. The whole number of men, officers included, would thus be in— creased to about ninety four thousand.* Cromwell, while holding down three reluctant kingdoms, and making vigorous war on Spain in Europe and America, had never had two thirds of the military force which William now thought necessary. The great body of the Tories, headed by three Whig chiefs, Harley, Eoley and Howe, opposed any augmentation. The great body of the Whigs, headed by Montague and Wharton, would have granted all that was asked. After many long discussions, and probably many close divisions, in the Committee of Supply, the King obtained the greater part of what he demanded. The House allowed him four new regiments of dragoons, six of horse, and fifteen of infantry. The whole number of troops voted for the year amounted to eighty three thousand, the charge to more than two millions and a half, including about two hundred thousand pounds for the ordnance.** The naval estimates passed much more rapidly; for Whigs and Tories agreed in thinking that the maritime ascendency of England ought to 'be maintained at any cost. Five hundred thousand pounds were voted for paying the arrears due to seamen, and two millions for the expenses of the year 1G94.*** The Commons then proceeded to consider the Ways and and a hieans * Means. The land tax was renewed at four shillings in the lottery loan. * Commons’ Journals, Dec. 5. 1G9;{. ** Commons’ Journals, Dec. 20. and 22. 169ij. The Journals did not then contain any notice of the divisions which took place when the House was in committee. There was only one division on the army estimates of this year, when the mace was on the table. That division was on the question whether 60,000/. or 147,000/. should be granted for hospitals and contingencies. The Whigs carried the larger sum by 184 votes to 120. Wharton was a teller for the majority, Foley for the minority. *** Commons’ Journals, Nov. 25. 1G9|. 300 HISTORY OF ENGIAXD. CHAP. XX. 1693.« pound; and by this simple but powerful machinery about two -millions were raised with certainty and despatch* A poll tax was imposed.** Stamp duties had long been among the fiscal resources of Holland and France, and had existed here during part of the reign of Charles the Second, but had been suffered to expire. They were now revived; and they have ever since formed an important part of the revenue of the State.*** The hackney coaches of the capital were taxed, and were placed under the government of commissioners, in spite of the resistance of the wives of the coachmen, who assembled round Westminster Hall and mobbed the members.f But, notwithstanding all these expedients, there was still a large deficiency; and it was again necessary to borrow. A new duty on salt and some other imposts of less importance were set apart to form a fund for a loan. On the security of this fund a million was to be raised by a lottery, but a lottery which had scarcely any thing but the name in common with the lotteries of a later period. The sum to be contributed was divided into a hundred thousand shares of ten pounds each. The interest on each share was to be twenty shillings annually, or, in other words, ten per cent, during sixteen years. But ten per cent for sixteen years was not a bait which was likely to attract lenders. An additional lure-w'as therefore held out to capitalists. On one fortieth of the shares much higher interest was to be paid than on the other thirty nine fortieths. Which of the shares should be prizes w'as to be determined by lot. The arrangements for the drawing of the tickets w r ere made by an adventurer of the name of Neale, who, after squandering away two fortunes, had been glad to become groom porter at the palace. His * Stilt. 5 w. & M. c. l. ** Stat. 54tff. As M. c. 14. *** Stat. 5 & 6 W. & M. c. 21.; Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary. + Stat. 5 & 6 VV. & M. c. 22.; Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary. WILLIAM AND MART. 301 duties were to call the odds when the Court played at hazard, to provide cards and dice, and to decide any dispute which might arise on the bowling green or at the gaming table. He was eminently skilled in the business of this not very exalted post, and had made such sums by raffles that he was able to engage in very costly speculations, and was then covering the ground round the Seven Dials with buildings. He was probably the best adviser that could have been consulted about the details of a lottery. Yet there were not wanting persons who thought it hardly decent in the Treasury to call in the aid of a gambler by profession. * By the lottery loan, as it was called, one million was obtained. But another million was wanted to bring the estimated revenue for the year 1694 up to a level with the estimated expenditure. The ingenious and enterprising Montague had a plan ready, a plan to which, except under the pressure of extreme pecuniary difficulties, he might not easily have induced the Commons to assent, but which, to his large and vigorous mind, appeared to have advantages, both commercial and political, more important than the immediate relief to the finances. He succeeded, not only in supplying the wants of the State for twelve months, but in creating a great institution, which, after the lapse of more than a century and a half, continues to flourish, and which he lived to see the stronghold, through all vicissitudes, of the Whig party, and the bulwark, in dangerous times, of the Protestant succession. In the reign of William old men were still living who could remember the days when there was not a single banking house in the city of London. So late as the time of the Restoration * Stat. 5 W. & M. c. 7.; Evelyn's Diary, Oct. 5. Nov. 22. 1694.; A Poem on Squire Neale's Projects; Malcolm’s History of London. Neale’s functions are described in several editions of Chamberlayne’s State of England. His name frequently appears in the London Gazette, as, for example, on July 28. 1684. CHAP. XX. 1G94. The Bank of England. 302 H[STORY 01' KNGLAHI). . every trader had his own strong box in his own house, and, -when an acceptance was presented to him, told down the crowns and Caroluses on his own counter. But the increase of wealth had produced its natural effect, the subdivision of labour. Before the end of the reign of Charles the Second, a new mode of paying and receiving money had come into fashion among the merchants of the capital. A class of agents arose, whose office was to keep the cash, of the commercial houses. This new branch of business naturally fell into the hands of the goldsmiths, who were accustomed to traffic largely in the precious metals, and who had vaults in which great masses of bullion could lie secure from fire and from robbers. It was at the shops of the goldsmiths of Lombard Street that all the payments in coin were made. Other traders gave and received nothing but paper. This great change did not take place without much opposition and clamour. Oldfashioned merchants complained bitterly that a class of men who, thirty years before, had confined themselves to their proper functions, and had made a fair profit by embossing silver bowls and chargers, by setting jewels for fine ladies, and by selling pistoles and dollars to gentlemen setting out for the ContiWt, had become the treasurers, and were fast becoming the masters, of the whole City. These usurers, it was said, played at hazard with what had been earned by the industry and hoarded by the thrift of other men. If the dice turned up well, the knave who kept the cash became an aider- man: if they turned up ill, the dupe who furnished the cash became a bankrupt. On the other side the conveniences of thp modern practice were set forth in animated language. The new system, it was said, saved both labour and money. Two clerks, seated in one counting house, did what, under the old system, must have been done by twenty clerks in twenty different establishments. A goldsmith’s note might be transferred ten WILLIAM ANII M.ARV. 303 times in a morning; and. thus a hundred guineas, locked in his safe close to the Exchange, did what would formerly have- required a thousand guineas, dispersed through many tills, some on Ludgate Hill, some in Austin Friars, and some in Tower Street.* Gradually even those who had been loudest in murmuring against the innovation gave way and conformed to the prevailing usage. The last person who held out, strange to say, was Sir Dudley North. When, in 1680 , after residing many years abroad, he returned to London, nothing astonished or displeased him more than the practice of making payments by drawing bills on bankers. He found that he could not go on Change without being followed round the piazza by goldsmiths, who, with low bows, begged to have the honour of serving him. He lost his temper when his friends asked where he kept his cash. “AVhere should I keep it,” ho asked, “but in my own house ? ” With difficulty he was induced to put his money into the hands of one of the Lombard Street men, as they were called. Unhappily, the Lombard Street man broke, and some of his customers suffered severely. Dudley North lost only fifty pounds: but this loss confirmed him in his dislike of the whole mystery of banking. It was in vain, however, that he exhorted his fellow citizens to return to the good old practice, and not to expose themselves to utter ruin in order to spare themselves a little trouble. He stood alone against the whole community. The advantages of the modern system were felt every hour of every day in every part of London; and people were no more disposed to relinquish those advantages for fear of calamities which occurred at long intervals than to refrain from building * See, for example, the Mystery of the IN e\v fashioned Goldsmiths or Brokers, 1670; Is not the Hand of Joab in all thisV 1670; and an answer published in the same year. Sec also England’s Glory in the great Improvement by Banking and Trade, 3694. CHAP. XX. _ J«i)4. 304 HISTORY OR ENGLAND. cnAp. houses for fear of fires, or from building ships for fear of hurri- / canes - I* i a a curious circumstance that a man who, as a theorist, was distinguished from all the merchants of his time by the largeness of his views and by his superiority to vulgar prejudices, should, in practice, have been distinguished from all the merchants of his time by the obstinacy with which he adhered to an ancient mode of doing business, long after the dullest and most ignorant plodders had abandoned that mode for one better suited to a great commercial society.* No sooner had banking become a separate and important trade, than men began to discuss with earnestness the question whether it would be expedient to erect a national bank. The general opinion seems to have been decidedly in favour of a national bank: nor can we wonder at this: for few were then aware that trade is in general carried on to much more advantage by individuals than by great societies; and banking really is one of those few trades which can be carried on to as much advantage by a great society as by an individual. Two public banks had long been renowned throughout Europe, the Bank of Saint George at Genoa, and the Bank of Amsterdam. The immense wealth which was in the keeping of those establishments, the confidence which they inspired, the prosperity which they had created, their stability, tried by panics, by wars, by revolutions, and found proof against all, were favourite topics. The bank of Saint George had nearly completed its third century. It had begun to receive deposits and to make loans before Columbus had crossed the Atlantic, before Gama had turned the Cape, when a Christian Emperor was reigning at Constantinople, when a Mahomedan Sultan was reigning at Granada, when Florence was a Republic, when Holland obeyed a hereditary Prince. All these things had been changed. New continents and new oceans had been discovered. The Turk was at * See the Life of Dudley North by his brother Roger. WILLIAM AND JIABY 305 Constantinople: the Castilian was at Granada: Florence had its hereditary Prince: Holland was a Republic: but the Bank- of Saint George was still receiving deposits and making loans. The Bank of Amsterdam was little more than eighty years old: but its solvency had stood severe tests. Even in the terrible crisis of 1672, when the whole Delta of the Rhine was overrun by the French armies, when the white flags were seen from the top of the Stadthouse, there was one place where, amidst the general consternation and confusion, tranquillity and order were still to be found; and that place was the Bank. Why should not the Bank of London be as great and as durable as the Banks of Genoa and of Amsterdam? Before the end of the reign of Charles the Second several plans were proposed, examined, attacked and defended. Some pamphleteers maintained that a national bank ought to be under the direction of the King. Others thought that the management ought to be entrusted to the Lord Mayor, Aldermen and Common Council of the capital.* After the Revolution the subject was discussed with an animation before unknown. For, under the influence of liberty, the breed of political projectors multiplied exceedingly. A crowd of plans, some of which resemble the fancies of a child or the dreams of a man in> fever, were pressed on the government. Preeminently conspicuous among the political mountebanks, whose busy faces were seen every day' in the lobby of the House of Commons, were John Briscoe and Hugh Chamberlayne, two projectors worthy to have been members of that Academy which Gulliver found at Lagado. These men affirmed that the one cure for every distemper of the State was a Land Bank. A Land Bank would'work for England miracles such as had never been wrought for Israel, miracles exceeding * See a pamphlet entitled Corporation Credit; or a Bank of Credit, made Current by Common Consent in Loudon, more Useful and Safe than Money. Macaulay, History. VII. CHAP. XX._ l(iU4. 20 306 HISTOEY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. 16 M. the heaps of quails and the daily shower of manna. There ■would be no taxes; and yet the Exchequer would be full to overflowing. There would be no poor rates: for there would be no poor. The income of every landowner would be doubled. The profits of every merchant would be increased. In short, the island would, to use Briscoe’s words, be the paradise of the world. The only losers would be the moneyed men, those worst enemies of the nation, who had done more injury to the gentry and yeomanry than an invading army from France would have had the heart to do.* These blessed effects the Land Bank was to produce simply by issuing enormous quantities of notes on landed security. The doctrine of the projectors was that every person who had real property ought to have, besides that property, paper money to the full value of that property. Thus, if his estate was worth two thousand pounds, he ought to have his estate and two thousand pounds in paper money.** Both Briscoe and Chamber- * A proposal by Dr. Hugh Chamberlayne, in Essex Street, for a Bank of Secure Current Credit to be founded upon Land, in order to the General Good of Landed Men, to the great Increase of the Value of Land, and the no less Benefit of Trade and Commerce,-1095; Proposals for the supplying their Majesties with Money on Easy Terms, exempting the Nobility, Gentry, «fce., from Taxes, enlarging their Yearly Estates, and enriching all the Subjects of the Kingdom by a National Land Bank; by John Briscoe. “0 fortunatos minium bona si sua norint Anglicanos.” Third Edition, 1G9G. Briscoe seems to have been as much versed iu Latin literature as in political economy. ** In confirmation of what is said in the text, I extract a single paragraph from Briscoe’s proposals. “Admit a gentleman hath barely 100/. per annum estate to live on, and hath a wife.and four children to provide for; this person, supposing no taxes were upon his estates, must be a great husband to be able to keep liis charge, but cannot think of laying up anything to place out his children in the world: but according to this proposed method he may give his children 500/. a piece and have 90/. per annum left for himself and his wife to live upon, the which he may also leave to such of his children as he pleases after his and his wife’s decease. For first having settled his estate of 100/. per annum, as in proposals 1. 3., he may have bills of credit for2000/, for his own proper use, for 10s. per cent per annum, as in proposal 22., which is but 10/. per annum for the ■WILLIAM AUD MALY. 307 layne treated with the greatest contempt the notion that there could be an overissue of paper as long as there was, for every ten pound note, a piece of land in the country worth ten pounds. Nobody, they said, would accuse a goldsmith of overissuing as long as his vaults contained guineas and crowns to the full value of all the notes which bore his signature. Indeed no goldsmith had in his vaults guineas and crowns to the full value of all his paper. And was not a square mile of rich land in Taunton Dean at least as well entitled to be called wealth as a bag of gold or silver? The projectors could not deny that many people had a prejudice in favour of the precious metals, and that therefore, if the Land Bank were bound to cash its notes, it would very soon stop payment. This difficulty they got over by proposing that the notes should be inconvertible, and that every body should be forced to take them. The speculations of Chamberlayne on the subject of the currency may possibly find admirers even in our own time. But to his other errors he added an error which began and ended with him. He was fool enough to take it for granted, in all his reasonings, that the value of an estate varied directly as the duration. He maintained that if the annual income derived from a manor were a thousand pounds, a grant of that manor for twenty years must he worth twenty thousand pounds, and a grant for a hundred years worth a hundred thousand pounds. If, therefore, the lord of such a manor would pledge it for a hundred years to the Land Bank, the Land Bank might, on that security, instantly issue notes for a hundred thousand pounds. On this subject Chamberlayne was proof to ridicule, to argument, even to arithmetical demonstration. He was reminded that the fee simple of land would not sell for more than 2000/., which being deducted out of his estate of 100/. por annum, there remains 90/. por annum clear to himself.” It ought to bo observed that this nonsense reached a third edition. CHAP. XX. 20 * 308 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. 1694 . twenty years’ purchase. To say, therefore, that a term of a - hundred years was worth five times as much as a term of twenty years, was to say that a term of a hundred years was worth five times the fee simple; in other words, that a hundred was five times infinity. Those who reasoned thus were refuted by being told that they were usurers; and it should seem that a large number of country gentlemen thought the refutation complete.* In December 1693 Chamberlayne laid his plan, in all its naked absurdity, before the Commons, and petitioned to be heard. He confidently undertook to raise eight thousand pounds on every freehold estate of a hundred and fifty pounds a year which should be brought, as he expressed it, into his Land Bank, and this without dispossessing the freeholder.** All the squires in the House must have known that the fee simple of such an estate would hardly fetch three thousand pounds in the market. That less than the fee simple of such an estate could, by any device, be made to produce eight thousand pounds, would, it might have been thought, have seemedin- * See Chamberlaync’s Proposal, his Positions supported by the Reasons explaining the Office of Land Credit, and his Bank Dialogue. See also an excellent little tract on the other side entitled “A Bank Dialogue between Dr. I-I. C. and a Country Gentleman, 169G,” and “Some Remarks upon a nameless and scurrilous Libel entitled a Bank Dialogue between Dr. II. C. and a Country Gentleman, in a Letter to a Person of Quality.” ** Commons’ Journals, Dec. 7. 1G93. I am afraid that I may be suspected of exaggerating the absurdity of this scheme. I therefore transcribe the most important part of the petition. “In consideration of the freeholders bringing their lands into this bank, for a fund of current credit, to be established by Act of Parliament, it is now proposed that, for every 150i. per annum, secured for 150 years, for but one hundred yearly payments of 100J. per annum, free from all maimer of taxes and deductions whatsoever, every such freeholder shall receive 4000L in the said current credit, and shall have 2000J. more put into the fishery stock for his proper benefit; and there may be further 2000J. reserved at the Parliament’s disposal towards the carrying on this present war. The freeholder is never to quit the possession of his said estate unless the yearly rent happens to be in arrear.” WII/LIAM AND MARY. 309 credible to the most illiterate foxhunter that could be found on the benches. Distress, however, and animosity had made the ■ landed gentlemen credulous. They insisted on referring Cham- berlayne’s plan to a committee; and the committee reported that the plan was practicable, and would tend to the benefit of the nation.* But by this time the united force of demonstration and derision had begun to produce an effect even on the most ignorant rustics in the House. The report lay unnoticed on the table; and the country was saved from a calamity compared with which the defeat of Landen and the loss of the Smyrna fleet would have been blessings. All the projectors of this busy time, however, were not so absurd as Chamberlayne. One among them, William Paterson, was an ingenious, though not always a judicious, speculator. Of his early life little is known except that he was a native of Scotland, and that he had been in the West Indies. In what character he had visited the West Indies was a matter about which his contemporaries differed. His friends said that he had been amissionary; his enemies that he had been a buccaneer. He seems to have been gifted by nature with fertile invention, an ardent temperament and great powers of persuasion, and to have acquired somewhere in the course of his vagrant life a perfect knowledge of accounts. This man submitted to the government, in 1691, apian of a national bank; and his plan was favourably received both by statesmen and by merchants. But years passed away; and nothing was done, till, in the spring of 1694, it became absolutely necessary to find some newmode of defraying the charges of the war. Then at length the scheme devised by the poor and obscure Scottish adventurer was taken up in earnest by Montague. With Montague was closely allied Michael Godfrey, the brother of that Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey whose sad and myste- * Commons’ Journals, Feb. 5. 169|. CHAP. XX. 1694 . 310 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. IGS4. rious death had, fifteen years before, produced a terrible out- - break of popular feeling. Michael was one of the ablest, most upright and most opulent of the merchant princes of London. He was, as might have been expected from his near connection with the martyr of the Protestant faith, a zealous Whig. Some of his writings are still extant, and prove him to have had a strong and clear mind. By these two distinguished men Paterson’s scheme was fathered. Montague undertook to manage the House of Commons, Godfrey to manage the City. An approving vote was obtained from the Committee of Ways and Means; and a bill, the title of which gave occasion to many sarcasms, was laid on the table. It was indeed not easy to guess that a bill, which purported only to impose a new duty on tonnage for the benefit of such persons as should advance money towards carrying on the war, was really a bill creating the greatest commercial institution that the world had ever seen. The plan was that twelve hundred thousand pounds should be borrowed by the government on what was then considered as the moderate interest of eight per cent. In order to induce capitalists to advance the money 7 promptly on terms so favourable to the public, the subscribers w 7 ere to be incorporated by the name of the Governor and Company of the Bank of England. The corporation was to have no exclusive privilege, and was to be restricted from trading in any thing but bills of exchange, bullion and forfeited pledges. As soon as the plan became generally known, a paper war broke out as furious as that between the swearers and the nonswearers, or as that between the Old East India Company and the New East India Company. The projectors who had failed to gain the ear of the government fell like madmen on their more fortunate brothel 7 . All the goldsmiths and pawnbrokers set up a howl of rage. Some discontented Tories predicted ruin to the ■WILLIAM AND MAKY. 311 monarchy. It was remarkable, they said, that Banks and Kings had never existed together. Banks were republican insti- ■ tutions. There were flourishing banks at Venice, at Genoa, at Amsterdam and at Hamburg. But who had ever heard of a Bank of France or a Bank of Spain?* Some discontented Whigs, on the other hand, predicted ruin to our liberties. Here, they said, is an instrument of tyranny more formidable than the High Commission, than the Star Chamber, than even the fifty thousand soldiers of Oliver. The 'whole wealth of the nation will be in the hands of the Tonnage Bank, — such was the nickname then in use; —• and the Tonnage Bank will be in the hands of the Sovereign. The power of the purse, the one great security for all the rights of Englishmen, will be transferred from the House of Commons to the Governor and Directors of the now Company. This last consideration was really of some weight, and was allowed to be so by the authors of the bill. A clause was therefore most properly inserted which inhibited the Bank from advancing money to the Crown without authority from Parliament. Every infraction of this salutary rule was to be punished by forfeiture of three times the sum advanced ; and it was provided that the King should not have power to remit any part of the penalty. The plan, thus amended, received the sanction of the Commons more easily than might have been expected from the violence of the adverse clamour. In truth, the Parliament was under duress. Money must be had, and could in no other way be had so easily. What took place when the House had resolved itself into a committee cannot be discovered: but, while the Speaker was in the chair, no division took place. The bill, however, was not safe when it had reached the Upper House. Some Lords suspected that the plan of a national bank had bebn devised for the purpose of exalting the moneyed * Aooount of the Intention Think of England. 1094. CHAP. XX. J1KM. 312 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX . 169 * 7 " interest at the expense of the landed interest. Others thought that this plan, whether good or bad, ought not to have been submitted to them in such a form. Whether it would be safe to call into existence a body which might one day rule the whole commercial world, and how such a body should be constituted, were questions which ought not to be decided by one branch of the Legislature. The Peers ought to be at perfect liberty to examine all the details of the proposed scheme, to suggest amendments, to ask for conferences. It was therefore most unfair that the law establishing the Rank should be sent up as part of a law granting supplies to the Crown. The Jacobites entertained some hope that the session would end with a quarrel between the Houses, that the Tonnage Bill would be lost, and that William xvould enter on the campaign without money. It was already May, according to the New Style. The London season was over; and many noble families had left Covent Garden and Soho Square for their xvoocls and hayfields. But summonses were sent out. There was a violent rush back to town. The benches which had lately been deserted were crowded. The sittings began at an hour unusually early, and were prolonged to an hour unusually late. On the day on which the bill was committed the contest lasted without intermission from nine in the morning till six in the evening. Godolphin was in the chair. Nottingham andRochesterproposed to strike out ail the clauses which related to the Bank. Something was said about the danger of setting up a gigantic corporation which might soon give law to the King and the three Estates of the Realm. But the Peers seemed to be most moved by the appeal which was made to them as landlords. The whole scheme, it was asserted, was intended to enrich usurers at the expense of the nobility and gentry. Persons who had laid by money would rather put it into the Bank than lend it on mortgage at moderate interest. Caermarthen said little nr nothing in defence of what was, in WILLIAM AND MAEY. 313 truth, the work of his rivals and enemies. He owned that there were grave objections to the mode in which the Commons had - provided for the public service of the year. But would their Lordships amend a money bill? Would they engage in a contest of which the end must be that they must either yield, or incur the grave responsibility of leaving the Channel without a fleet during the summer? This argument prevailed; and, on a division, the amendment was rejected by forty three votes to thirty one. A few hours later the bill received the royal assent, and the Parliament was prorogued.* In the City the success of Montague’s plan was complete. It was then at least as difficult to raise a million at eight per cent as it would now be to raise thirty millions at four per cent. It had been supposed that contributions would drop in very slowly; and a considerable time had therefore been allowed by the Act. This indulgence was not needed. So popular was the new investment that on the day on which the books were opened three hundred thousand pounds were subscribed: three hundred thousand more were subscribed during the next forty eight hours; and, in ten days, to the delight of all the friends of the government, it was announced that the list was full. The whole sum which the Corporation was bound to lend to the State was paid into the Exchequer before the first instalment was due.** Somers gladly put the Great Seal to a charter framed in conformity with the terms prescribed by Parliament; and the Bank of England commenced its operations in the house of the Company of Grocers. There, during many years, directors, secretaries and clerks might be seen labouring in different parts of one spacious hall. The persons employed by the Bank were originally only fifty four. They are now nine hundred. The sum * See the Lords’Journals of April 23, 24, 25. IG94, and the letter of ^■,|>j| L’lTcrmitage to the States General dated ' Mtty t ~ ** Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary, June 1604. CHAP. XX. 314 HISTORY OR ENGLAND. CHAP, xx. paid yearly in salaries amounted at first to only four thousand ■ three hundred and fifty pounds. It now exceeds two hundred and ten thousand pounds. We may therefore fairly infer that the incomes of commercial clerks are, on an average, about three times as large in the reign of Victoria as they were in the reign of William the Third.* It soon appeared that Montague had, by skilfully availing himself of the financial difficulties of the country, rendered an inestimable service to his party. During several generations the Bank of England was emphatically a Whig body. It was Whig, not accidentally, but necessarily. It must have instantly stopped payment if it had ceased to receive the interest on the sum which it had advanced to the government; and of that interest James would not have paid one farthing. Seventeen years after the passing of the Tonnage Bill, Addison, in one of his most ingenious and graceful little allegories, described the situation of the great Company through which the immense wealth of London was constantly circulating. He saw Public Credit on her throne in Grocers’Hall, the Great Charter over her head, the Act of Settlement full in her view. Her touch turned every thing to gold. Behind her seat, bags filled with coin were piled up to the ceiling. On her right and on her left the floor was hidden by pyramids of guineas. On a sudden the door flies open. The Pretender rushes in, a sponge in one hand, in the other a sword which he shakes at the Act of Settlement. The beautiful Queen sinks down fainting. The spell by which she has turned all things around her into treasure is broken. The money bags shrink like pricked bladders. The piles of gold pieces are turned into bundles of rags or faggots of wooden tallies.** The truth which this parable was meant to convey was constantly present to the minds of the rulers of the * Heath’s Account of 'the Worshipful Company of Grocers; Francis’s History of the Bank of England. ** Spectator, No. 3. ■WILLIAM AND MABY. 315 Bank. So closely was their interest bound up with the interest chap. of the government that the greater the public danger the more — c '^ ready were they to come to the rescue. In old times, when the Treasury was empty, when the taxes came in slowly, and when the pay of the soldiers and sailors was in arrear, it had been necessary for the Chancellor of the Exchequer to go, hat in hand, up and down Cheapside and Cornhill, attended by the Lord Mayor and by the Aldermen, and to make up a sum by borrowing a hundred pounds from this hosier, and two hundred pounds from that ironmonger.* Those times were over. The government, instead of laboriously scooping up supplies from numerous petty sources, could now draw whatever it required from an immense reservoir, which all those petty sources kept constantly replenished. It is hardly too much to say that, during many years, the weight of the Bank, which was constantly in the scale of the Whigs, almost counterbalanced the weight of the Church, which was as constantly in the scale of the Tories. A few minutes after the bill which established the Bank of England had received the royal assent, the Parliament waspmro e a- prorogued by the King with a speech in which he warmly pariia- thanked the Commons for their liberality. Montague was im- JJhlisie- mediately rewarded for his services with the place of Chancellor of the Exchequer.** menis. Shrewsbury had a few weeks before consented to accept the seals. lie had held out resolutely from November to Slirews _ March. While he was trying to find excuses which might g"JJ clary satisfy his political friends, Sir James Montgomery visited ofstale - him. Montgomery was now the most miserable of human beings. Having borne a great part in a great Revolution, having been charged with the august office of presenting - * Proceedings of the Wednesday Club in Friday Street. ** Lords’ Journals, April 25.1(194; London Gazette, May 7. 1694. 316 HISTORY OF ENGLAITO. CHAP. _xx. JC94. the Crown of Scotland to the Sovereigns whom the Estates had -chosen, having domineered without a rival, during several months, in the Parliament at Edinburgh, having seen before him in near prospect the seals of Secretary, the coronet of an Earl, ample wealth, supreme power, he had on a sudden sunk into obscurity and abject penury. His fine parts still remained; and he was therefore used by the Jacobites: but, though used, he was despised, distrusted and starved. He passed his life in wandering from England to France and from France back to England, without finding a resting place in either country. Sometimes he waited in the antechamber at Saint Germains, where the priests scowled at him as a Calvinist, and where even the Protestant Jacobites cautioned one another in whispers against the old Republican. Sometimes he lay hid in the garrets of London, imagining that every footstep which he heard on the stairs was that of a bailiff with a writ, or thatof a King’s messenger with a warrant. He now' obtained access to Shrewsbury, and ventured to talk as a Jacobite to a brother Jacobite. Shrewsbury, who was not at all inclined to put his estate and his neck in the power of a man whom he knew' to be both rash and perfidious, returned very guarded answers. Through some channel which is not known to us, William obtained full intelligence of what had passed on this occasion. He sent for Shrewsbury, and again spoke earnestly about the secretaryship. Shrewsbury again excused himself. His health, he said, w'as bad. “That,” said William, “is not your only reason.” “No, Sir,” said Shrewsbury, “it is not.” And he began to speak of public grievances, and alluded to the fate of the Triennial Bill, w'hich he had himself introduced. But William cut him short. “There is another reason behind. When did you see Montgomery last?” Shrewsbury was thunderstruck. The King proceeded to repeat some things which Montgomery had said. By this time Shrewsbury had recovered from his dismay, and ■WILLIAM AND MASY. 317 had recollected that, in the conversation which had been so accurately reported to the government, he had fortunately uttered no treason, though he had heard much. “ Sir,” said he, “ since Your Majesty has been so correctly informed, you must be aware that I gave no encouragement to that man’s attempts to seduce me from my allegiance.” William did not deny this, but intimated that such secret dealings with noted Jacobites raised suspicions which Shrewsbury could remove only by accepting the seals. “That,” he said, “will put me quite at ease. I know that you are a man of honour, and that, if you undertake to serve me, you will serve me faithfully.” So pressed, Shrewsbury complied, to the great joy of his whole party; and was immediately rewarded for his compliance with a dukedom and a garter.* Thus a Whig ministry was gradually forming. There were now two Whig Secretaries of State, a Whig Keeper of the Great Seal, a Whig First Lord of the Admiralty, a Whig Chancellor of the Exchequer. The Lord Privy Seal, Pembroke, might also be called a Whig: for his mind was one which readily took the impress of any stronger mind with which it was brought into contact. Seymour, having been long enough a Commissioner of the Treasury to lose much of his influence with the Tory country gentlemen who had once listened to him as to an oracle, was dismissed; and his place was filled by John Smith, a zealous and able Whig, who had taken an active part in the debates of the late session.** The only Tories who still held great offices in the executive government were the Lord President, Caermarthen, who, though he began to feel that power was slipping from his grasp, still clutched it desperately, and the First Lord of the Treasury, Godolphin, who meddled little out * Life of James, ii. 520.; Floyd’s (Lloyd’s) Account in tho Nairne Papers, under the date of May 1. 1694; London Gazette, April 26. 30. 1694. , ** London Gazette, May 3. 1694. CHAP. XX. 318 HISTORI OF ENGLAND. chap, of his own department, and performed the duties of that de- —— partment with skill and assiduity. New titles William, however, still tried to divide his favours between bestowed. t j ie two p ar ties. Though the Whigs were fast drawing to themselves the substance of power, the Tories obtained their share of honorary distinctions. Mulgrave, who had, during the late session, exerted his great parliamentary talents in favour of the King’s policy, was created Marquess ofNormanby, and named a Cabinet Councillor, but -was never consulted. He obtained at the same time a pension of three thousand pounds a year. Caer- marthen, whom the late changes had deeply mortified, was in some degree consoled by a signal mark of royal approbation. Tie became Duke of Leeds. It had taken him little more than twenty years to climb from the station of a Yorkshire country gentleman to the highest rank in the peerage. Two great Whig Earls were at the same time created Dukes, Bedford and Devonshire. It ought to be mentioned thatBedford had repeatedly refused the dignity which he now somewhat reluctantly accepted. He declared that he preferred his Earldom to a Dukedom, and gave a very sensible reason for the preference. An Earl who had a numerous family might send one son to the Temple and another to a counting house in the city. But the sons of a Duke were all lords; and a lord could not make his bread either at the bar or on Change. The old man’s objections, however, were overcome; and the two great houses of Russell and Cavendish, which had long been closely connected by friendship and by marriage, by common opinions, common sufferings and common triumphs, received on the same day the greatest honour w’hich it is in the power of the Crown to confer. * * London Gazette, April SO. May 7. 1094; Shrewsbury to William, May R.; William to Shrewsbury, 1 L’Hermitage, WILLIAM AND MART. 319 The Gazette which announced these creations announced chap. also that the King had set out for the Continent. He had, be— fore his departure, consulted with his ministers about the means of counteracting a plan of naval operations which had been formed by the French government. Hitherto the maritime war had been carried on chiefly in the Channel and the Atlantic. But Lewis had now determined to concentrate his maritime Fr h forces in the Mediterranean. He hoped that, with their help, i ,lau of the army of Marhal Noailles would be able to take Barcelona, to subdue the whole of Catalonia, and to compel Spain to sue for peace. Accordingly, Tourville’s squadron, consisting of fifty three men of war, set sail from Brest on the twenty fifth of April and passed the Straits of Gibraltar on the fourth of May. William, in order to cross the designs of the enemy, deter-English mined to send Russell to the Mediterranean with the greater ^" of part of the combined fleet of England and Holland. A squadron was to remain in the British seas under the command of the Earl of Berkeley. Talmash was to embark on board of this squadron with a large body of troops,, and was to attack Brest, which would, it was supposed, in the absence of Tourville and his fifty three vessels, be an easy conquest. That preparations were making at Portsmouth for an expedition, in which the land forces were to bear a part, could not be kept a secret. There was much speculation at the Rose and at Garraway’s touching- the destination of the armament. Some talked of Rhe, some of Oleron, some of Rochelle, some of Rochefort. Many, till the fleet actually began to move westward, believed that it was bound for Dunkirk. Many guessed that Brest would be the point of attack; but they only guessed this: for the secret was much better kept than most of the secrets of that age.* Russell, till he was ready to weigh anchor, * LTIermitage, May After mentioning the various reports, he says, “De tous ces divers projeta qu’on s'imagine aucun n’est venu a la 320 HISTORY OH ENGLAND. CHAP, AX. 1 CM. persisted in assuring liis Jacobite friends that he knew nothing. His discretion was proof even against all the arts of Marlborough. Marlborough, however, had other sources of intelligence. To those sources he applied himself; and he at length succeeded in discovering the whole plan of the government. He instantly wrote to James. He had, he said, but that moment ascertained that twelve regiments of infantry and two regiments of marines were about to embark, under the command of Talmash, for the purpose of destroying the harbour of Brest and the shipping which lay there. “This,” he added, “would be a great advantage to England. But no consideration can, or ever shall, hinder me from letting you know what I think may be for your service.” He then proceeded to caution James against Russell. “ I endeavoured to learn this some time ago from him: but he always denied it to me, though I am very sure that he knew the design for more than six weeks. This gives me a bad sign of this man’s intentions.” The intelligence sent by Marlborough to James was communicated by James to the French government. That government took its measures with characteristic promptitude. Promptitude was indeed necessary; for, when Marlborough’s letter was written, the preparations at Portsmouth were all but complete: and, if the wind had been favourable to the English, the objects of the expedition might have been attained without a struggle. But adverse gales detained our fleet in the Channel during another month. Meanwhile a large body of troops was collected at Brest. Vauban was charged with the duty of putting the defences in order; and, under his skilful direction, batteries were planted which commanded every spot where it cognoissance du public.” This is important: for it lias often been said, in excuse for Marlborough, that he communicated to the Court of Saint Germains only what was the talk of all the coifeehouses, and must have been known without his instrumentality. WILLIAM. AXD JIAKT. 321 seemed likely that an invader would attempt to land. Eight chap. large rafts, each carrying many mortars, were moored in the ■ harbour, and, some days before the English arrived, all was ready for their reception. On the sixth of June the whole allied fleet was on the At- E*P edi - tion lantic about fifteen leagues west of Cape Finisterre. There againsi Russell and Berkeley parted company. Russell proceeded towards the Mediterranean. Berkeley’s squadron, with the troops on board, steered for the coast of Britanny, and anchored just without Camaret Bay, close to the mouth of the harbour of Brest. Talmash proposed to land in Camaret Bay. It was therefore desirable to ascertain with accuracy the state of the coast. The eldest son of the Duke of Leeds, now called Marquess of Caermarthen, undertook to enter the basin and to obtain the necessary information. The passion of this brave and eccentric young man for maritime adventure was unconquerable. He had solicited and obtained the rank of Rear Admiral, and had accompanied the expedition in his own yacht, the Peregrine, renowned as the masterpiece of shipbuilding, and more than once already mentioned in this history. Cutts, who had distinguished himself by his intrepidity in the Irish war, and had been rewarded with an Irish peerage, offered to accompany Caermarthen. LordMohuu, who, desirous, it may be hoped, to efface by honourable exploits the stain which a shameful and disastrous brawl had left on his name, was serving with the troops as a volunteer, insisted on being of the party. The Peregrine went into the bay with its gallant crew, and came out safe, but not without having run great risks. Caermarthen reported that the defences, of which however he had seen only a small part, were formidable. But Berkeley and Talmash suspected that he overrated the danger. They were not aware that their design had long been known at Versailles, that an army had been collected to oppose them, and that the greatest Macaulay, History, VII, 21 322 HISTOBY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. JG94. engineer in the world had been employed to fortify the coast against them. They therefore did not doubt that their troops might easily be put on shore under the protection of a fire from the ships. On the following morning Caermarthen was orderc d to enter the bay xvith eight vessels and to batter the French works. Talmash was to follow xvith about a hundred boats full of soldiers. It soon appeared that the enterprise xvas even more perilous than it had on the preceding day appeared to be. Batteries xx'hich had then escaped notice opened on the ships a fire so murderous that several decks xvere soon cleared. Great bodies of foot and horse xvere discernible; and, by their uniforms, they appeared to be regular troops. The young Rear- Admiral sent an officer in all haste to xvarn Talmash. But Talmash xvas so completely possessed by the notion that the French xvere not prepared to repel an attack that he disregarded all cautions and would not even trust his oxvn eyes. He felt sure that the force which he saxv assembled on the shore was a mere rabble of peasants, who had been brought together in haste from the surrounding country. Confident that these mock soldiers xvould run like sheep before real soldiers, he ordered his men to pull for the beach. He was soon undeceived. A terrible fire mowed down his troops faster than they could get on shore. He had himself scarcely sprung on dry ground when he received a xvound in the thigh from a cannonball, and xvas carried back to his skiff. His men reembarked in confusion. Ships and boats made haste to get out of the bay,, but did not succeed till four hundred seamen and seven hundred soldiers had fallen. During many days the waves continued to throw up pierced and shattered corpses on the beach of Britanny. The battery from which Talmash received his xvound is called, to this day, the Englishman’s Death. The unhappy general xvas laid on his couch; and a council of war xvas held in his cabin. He xvas for going straight into the WILLIAM AND MANY. 323 harbour of Brest and bombarding the town. But this suggestion, which indicated but too clearly that his judgment hadbeen affected by the irritation of a wounded body and a wounded mind, was wisely rejected by the naval officers. The armament returned to Portsmouth. There Talmash died, exclaiming with his last breath that he had been lured into asnare bytreachery. The public grief and indignation were loudly expressed. The nation remembered the services of the unfortunate general, forgave his rashness, pitied his sufferings, and execrated the unknown traitors whose machinations had been fatal to him. There were many conjectures and many rumours. Some sturdy Englishmen, misled by national prejudice, swore that none of our plans would ever be kept a secret from the enemy while French refugees were in high military command. Some zealous Whigs, misled by party spirit, muttered that the Court of Saint Germains would never want good intelligence while a single Tory remained in the Cabinet Council. The real criminal was not named; nor, till the archives of the House of Stuart were explored, was it known to the world that Talmash had perished by the basest of all the hundred villanies of Marlborough. * - Yet never had Marlborough been less a Jacobite than at the moment when he rendered this wicked and shameful sendee to the Jacobite cause. It may be confidently affirmed that to serve the banished family was not his object, and that to ingratiate himself with the banished family was only his secondary object. ITis primary object was to force himself into the service of the existing government, and to regain possession of those important and lucrative places from which he had been dismissed more than two years before. He knew that the country and the Parliament would not patiently bear to see the English army commanded by foreign generals. Two Englishmen only had * London Gazette, June 14. 18. 1G94; Paris Gazette, . Burchett; July o’’ 1 Journal ofLord Caermarthen; Baden, June L’Hermitage, June 4 ®, 21 * CIIAP. XX. 1604 , 324 HISTOBY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. IC94. shown themselves fit for high military posts, himself and Talmash. If Talmash were defeated and disgraced, "William would scarcely have a choice. In fact, as soon as it was known that the expedition had failed, and that Talmash was no more, the general cry was that the King ought to receive into his favour the accomplished Captain who had done such good service at Walcourt, at Cork and at Kinsale. Nor can we blame the multitude for raising this cry. For every body knew that Marlborough was an eminently brave, skilful and successful officer: but very few persons knew that he had, while commanding William’s troops, while sitting in William’s council, while waiting in William’s bedchamber, formed a most artful and dangerous plot for the subversion of William’s throne; and still fewer suspected the real author of the recent calamity, of the slaughter in the Bay of Camaret, of the melancholy fate of Talmash. The effect therefore of the foulest of all treasons was to raise the traitor in public estimation. Nor was he wanting to himself at this conjuncture. While the Royal Exchange was in consternation at this disaster of which he was the cause, while many families were clothing themselves in mourning for the brave men of whom he was the murderer, he repaired to Whitehall; and there, doubtless with all that grace, that nobleness, that suavity, under which lay, hidden from all common observers; a seared conscience and a remorseless heart, he professed himself the most devoted, the most loyal, of all the subjects of William and Mary, and expressed a hope that he might, in this emergency, be permitted to offer his sword to their Majesties. Shrewsbury was very desirous that the offer should be accepted: but a short and dry answer from William, who was then in the Netherlands, put an end for the present to all negotiation. About Talmash the King expressed himself with generous tenderness. “The poor fellow’s fate,” he wrote, “ has affected me much. I do not indeed think that he managed well: but it was his ardent desire william: and mahy. 325 to distinguish himself that impelled him to attempt impossibi- chap. litips”* xx - The armament which had returned to Portsmouth soon sailed again for the coast of France, but achieved only exploits worse than inglorious. An attempt was made to blow up the pier at Dunkirk. Some towns inhabited by quiet tradesmen and fishermen were bombarded. In Dieppe scarcely a house ■was left standing: a third part of Havre was laid in ashes; and shells were thrown into Calais which destroyed thirty private dwellings. (The French and the Jacobites loudly exclaimed against the cowardice and barbarity of making Avar on an un- Avarlike population. The English government vindicated itself by reminding the world of the sufferings of the thrice wasted Palatinate; and, as against Lewis and the flatterers of Lewis, the vindication was complete. But whether it were consistent with humanity and with sound policy to visit the crimes which an absolute Prince and a ferocious soldiery had committed in the Palatinate on shopkeepers and labourers, on women and children', \\dio did not know that the Palatinate existed, may perhaps be doubted. Meanwhile Russell’s fleet was rendering good service to the ® ^ 0 p era _ common cause. Adverse winds had impeded his progress tions in through the Straits so long that he did not reach Carthagena diterra- till the middle of July. By that time the progress of the French neau ' arms had spread terror even to the Escurial. Noailleshad, on the banks of the Tar, routed an army commanded by the Viceroy of Catalonia; and, on the day on which this victory was won, the Brest squadron had joined the Toulon squadron in the Bay of Rosas. Palamos, attacked at once by land and sea, was taken by storm. Gerona capitulated after a faint show of * Shrewsbury to William, July 1.; Shrewsbury to William June 34 June '-i'-i. ’ July 1694, William to Shrewsbury, 326 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. chap, resistance. Ostalric surrendered, at the first summons. Bar- — celona would in all probability have fallen, had not the French Admirals learned that the conqueror of La Hogue was approaching. They instantly quitted the coast of Catalonia, and never thought themselves safe till they had taken shelter under the batteries of Toulon. The Spanish government expressed warm gratitude for this seasonable assistance, and presented to the English Admiral a jewel which was popularly said to be worth near twenty- thousand pounds sterling. There was no difficulty in finding such a jewel among the hoards of gorgeous trinkets which had been left by Charles the Fifth and Philip the Second to a degenerate race. But, in all that constitutes the true wealth of states, Spain was poor indeed. Her treasury was empty: her arsenals were unfurnished: her ships were so rotten that they seemed likely to fly asunder at the discharge of their own guns. Her ragged and starving soldiers often mingled with the crowd of beggars at the doors of convents, and battled there for a mess of pottage and a crust of bread. Russell underwent those trials which no English commander whose hard fate it has been ■ to cooperate with Spaniards has escaped. The Viceroy of Catalonia promised much, did nothing, and expected every thing. He declared that three hundred and fifty thousand rations were ' ready to be served out to the fleet at Cartliagena. It turned out that there were not in all the stores of that port provisions sufficient to victual a single frigate for a single week. Yet His Excellency thought himself entitled to complain because England had not sent an army as well as a fleet, and because the heretic Admiral did not choose to expose the fleet to utter destruction by attacking the French under the guns of Toulon. Russell implored the Spanish authorities to look well to their dockyards, and to try to have, by the next spring, a small squadron which might at least be able to float; but he could not prevail on them -WILLIAM AND MANY. 327 to careen a single ship. He could with difficulty obtain, on chap. hard conditions, permission to send a few of his sick men to — marine hospitals on shore. Yet, in spite of all the trouble given him by the imbecility and ingratitude of a government which has generally caused more annoyance to its allies than to its enemies, he acquitted himself well. It is but just to him to say that, from the time at which he became First Lord of the Admiralty, there was a decided improvement in the naval administration. Though he lay with his fleet many months near an inhospitable shore, and at a great distance fromEngland, there were no complaints about the quality or the quantity of provisions. The crews had better food and drink than they had ever had before: comforts which Spain did not afford were supplied from home; and yet the charge was not greater than when, in Torrington’s time, the sailor was poisoned with mouldy biscuit and nauseous beer. .. As almost the whole maritime force of France was in the Mediterranean, and as it seemed likely that an attempt would be made on Barcelona in the following year, Bussell received orders to winter at Cadiz. In October he sailed to that port; and there he employed himself in refitting his ships with an activity unintelligible to the Spanish functionaries, who calmly suffered the miserable remains of what had once been the greatest navy in the world to rot under their eyes.* Along the eastern frontier of France the war during this ) Va i ° land. year seemed to languish. In Piedmont and on the Rhine the most important events of the campaign were petty skirmishes and predatory incursions. Lewis remained at Versailles, and sent his son, the Dauphin, to represent him in the Netherlands: but the Dauphin was placed under the tutelage of Luxemburg, and proved a most submissive pupil. During * This account of Russell's expedition to the Mediterranean I have taken chiefly from Burchett. 328 HISTORY OY ENGLAND. chap, several months the hostile armies observed each other. The — — allies made one bold push with the intention of carrying the war into the French territory: but Luxemburg, by a forced march, which excited the admiration of persons versed in the military art, frustrated the design. William on the other hand succeeded in taking Huy, then a fortress of the third rank. No battle was fought: no important town was besieged: but the confederates were satisfied with their campaign. Of the four previous years every one had been marked by some great disaster. In 1G90 Waldeck had been defeated at Fleurus. In 1691 Mons had fallen. In 1692 Namur had been-taken in sight of the allied army; and this calamity had been speedily followed by the defeat of Steinkirk. In 1693 the battle of Landen had been lost; and Charleroy had submitted to the conqueror. At length in 1694 the tide had begun to turn. The French arms had made no progress. What had been gained by the allies was indeed not much: hut the smallest gain was welcome to those whom a long run of evil fortune had discouraged. In England, the general opinion was that, notwithstanding the disaster in Camaret Bay, the war was on the whole proceeding satisfactorily both by land and by sea. But some parts of the internal administration excited, during this autumn, much discontent. piaTnts Since Trenchard had been appointed Secretary of State, the chart*”' ^ aoo ' 3 ^ te agitators had found their situation much more un- adminis- pleasant than before. Sidney had been too indulgent and too fond of pleasure to give them much trouble. Nottingham was a diligent and honest minister: but he was as high a Tory as a faithful subject of William and Mary could be: he loved and esteemed many of the nonjurors; and, though he might force himself to he severe when nothing but severity could save the State, he was not extreme to mark the transgressions of his old friends; nor did he encourage talebearers to come to Whitehall WILLIAM AND MART. 329 with reports of conspiracies. But Trenchard was both an active public servant and an earnest Whig. Even if he had himself been inclined to lenity, he would have been urged to severity by those who surrounded him. He had constantly at his side Hugh Speke and Aaron Smith, men to whom a hunt after a Jacobite was the most exciting of all sports. The cry of the maleeont.ents was that Nottingham had kept his bloodhounds in the leash, but that Trenchard had let them slip. Every honest gentleman who loved the Church and hated the Dutch went in danger of his life. There was a constant bustle at the Secretary’s Office', a constant stream of informers coming in, and of messengers with warrhnts going out. It was said too, that the warrants were often irregularly drawn, that they did not specify the person, that they did not specify the crime, and yet that, under the authority of such instruments as these, houses w r ere entered, desks and cabinets searched, valuable papers carried away, and men of good birth and breeding flung into gaol among felons.* The minister and his agents answered that Westminster Hall was open; that, if any man had been illegally imprisoned, he had only to bring his action; that juries xvere quite sufficiently disposed to listen to any person ■who pretended to have been oppressed by cruel and griping men in power, and that, as none of the prisoners whose wrongs were so pathetically described had ventured to resort to this obvious and easy mode of obtaining redress, it might fairly be inferred that nothing had been done which could not be justified. The clamour of the malecontents however made a considerable impression on the public mind; and at length, a transaction in which Trenchard was more unlucky than culpable, brought on him and on the government with which he was connected much temporary obloquy. CHAP. xx. J6M. * Letter to Trenchard, 1694. 330 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CIIAP. XX. The Lancashire prosecutions. Among the informers who haunted his office was an Irish ■ vagabond who had borne more than one name and had pro- . fessed more than one religion. He now called himself Taaffe. He had been a priest of the Roman Catholic Church, and secretary to Adda the Papal Nuncio, but had since the Revolution turned Protestant, had taken a rvife, and had distinguished himself by his activity in discovering the concealed property of those Jesuits and Benedictines who, during the late reign, had been quartered in London. The ministers despised him: but they trusted him. They thought that he had, by his apostasy, and by the part which he had borne in the spoliation of the religious orders, cut himself off from all retreat, and that, having nothing but a halter to expect from King James, he must be true to King William.* This man fell in with a Jacobite agent named Lunt, who had, since the Revolution, been repeatedly employed among the discontented gentry of Cheshire and Lancashire, and who had been privy to those plans of insurrection which had been disconcerted by the battle of the Boyne in 1690, and by the battle of La Hogue in 1692. Inmt had once been arrested on suspicion of treason, but had been discharged for want of legal proof of his guilt. He w r as a mere hireling, and was, without much difficulty, induced by Taaffe to turn approver. The pair went to Trenchard. Lunt told his story, mentioned the names of some Cheshire and Lancashire squires to whom he had, as he affirmed, carried commissions from Saint Germains, and of others, w r ho had, to his knowledge, formed secret hoards of arms and ammunition. His simple oath would not have been sufficient to support a charge of high treason: but he produced another witness -whose evidence seemed to make the case complete. The narrative was plausible and coherent; and indeed, * Burnet, ii. 141, 142.; and Onslow’s note; Kingston’s True History, 1697. WILLIAM AND MANY. 331 though it may have been embellished by fictions, there can be little doubt that it was in substance true.* Messengers and search warrants were sent down to Lancashire. Aaron Smith himself went thither; and Taaffe went with him. The alarm had been given by some of the numerous traitors who ate the bread of William. Some of the accused persons had fled; and others had buried their sabres and muskets and burned their papers. Nevertheless, discoveries were made which confirmed hunt’s depositions. Behind the wainscot of the old mansion of one Homan Catholic family was discovered a commission signed by James. Another house, of which the master had absconded, was strictly searched, in spite of the solemn asseverations of his wife and his servants that no arms were concealed there. While the lady, with her hand on her heart, was protesting on her honour that her husband was falsely accused, the messengers observed that the back of the chimney did not seem to be firmly fixed. It was removed, and a heap of blades such as were used by horse soldiers tumbled out. In one of the garrets were found, carefully bricked up, thirty saddles for troopers, as many breastplates, and sixty cavalry swords. Trenchard and Aaron Smith thought the case complete; and it was determined that those culprits who had been apprehended should be tried by a special commission.** Taaffe now confidently expected to be recompensed for his services: but he found a cold reception at the Treasury. He had gone down to Lancashire chiefly in order that he might, under the protection of a search warrant, pilfer trinkets and broad pieces from secret drawers. His sleight of hand however had not altogether escaped the observation of his companions. They discovered that he had made free with the communion plate of the Popish families, whose private hoards he had criAp. xx. it * See the Life of James, ii. 524. ** Kingston; Burnet, ii. 14L. 332 HISTOBY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. I6S4. assisted in ransacking. When therefore he applied for reward, - he was dismissed, not merely with a refusal, but with a stern reprimand. He went away mad with greediness and spite. There was yet one way in which he might obtain both money and revenge; and that way he took. He made overtures to the friends of the prisoners. He and he alone could undo what he had done, could save the accused from the gallows, could cover the accusers with infamy, could drive from office the Secretary and the Solicitor who were the dread of all the friends of King James. Loathsome as Taaffe was to the Jacobites, his offer was not to be slighted. He received a sum in hand: he was assured that a comfortable annuity for life should be settled on him when the business was done; and he was sent down into the country, and kept in strict seclusion against the day of trial* Meanwhile unlicensed pamphlets, in which the Lancashire plot was classed with Oates’s plot, with Oangerfield’s plot, with Fuller’s plot, with Young’s plot, with Whitney’s plot, were circulated all over the kingdom, and especially in the county which was to furnish the jury. Of these pamphlets the longest, the ablest, and the bitterest, entitled a Letter to Secretary Trenchard, was commonly ascribed to Ferguson. It is not improbable that Ferguson may have furnished some of the materials, and may have conveyed the manuscript to the press. But many passages are written with an art and a vigour which assuredly did not belong to him. Those who judge by internal evidence may perhaps think that, in some parts of this remarkable tract, they can discern the last gleam of the malignant genius of Montgomery. A few weeks after the appearance of the Letter he sank, unhonoured and unlamented, into the grave. ** * Kingston. For the fact that a bribe was given to Taaffe, Kingston cites the evidence taken on oath by the Lords. ** Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary, Oct. C. 16‘J4. -WILLIAM AND MART. 333 There were then no printed newspapers except the London Gazette. But since the Revolution the newsletter had become • a more important political engine than it had previously been. The newsletters of one writer named Dyer were widely circulated in manuscript. He affected to be a Tory and a High Churchman, and was consequently regarded by the foxhunting lords of manors, all over the kingdom, as an oracle. He had already been twice in prison: but his gains had more than compensated for his sufferings, and he still persisted in seasoning his intelligence to suit the taste of the country gentlemen. He now turned the Lancashire plot into ridicule, declared that the guns which had been found were old fowling pieces, that the saddles were meant only for hunting, and that the swords were rusty reliques of Edge Hill and Marston Moor.* The effect produced by all this invective and sarcasm on the public mind seems to have been great. Even at the Dutch Embassy, where assuredly there was no leaning towards Jacobitism, there was a strong impression that it would be unwise to bring the prisoners to trial. In Lancashire and Cheshire the prevailing sentiments were pity for the accused and hatred of the prosecutors. The government however persevered. In October four Judges went down to Manchester. At present the population of that town is made up of persons born in every part of the British Isles, and consequently has no especial sympathy with the landowners, the farmers and the agricultural labourers of the neighbouring districts. But in the seventeenth century the Manchester man was a Lancashire man. His politics were those of his county. For the old Cavalier families of his county he felt a greatrespect; and he was furious when he thought that some of the best blood of his county was about to be shed by a knot of Roundhead pettifoggers from London. Multitudes of people from the neigh- * As to Dyer’s newsletter, see Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary for June and August 1693, and September 1694. CHAP. XX. IBM. 334 HISTOEr OP ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. 1694 . homing villages filled the streets of the town, and saw with ■ grief and indignation the array of drawn swords and loaded carbines which surrounded the culprits. Aaron Smith’s arrangements do not seem to have been skilful. The chief counsel for the Crown was Sir AVilliam Williams, who, though now well stricken in years and possessed of a great estate, still continued to practise. One fault had thrown a dark shade over the latter part of his life. The recollection of that day on which he had stood up in Westminster Hall, amidst laughter and hooting, to defend the dispensing power and to attack the right of petition, had, ever since the Revolution, kept him back from honour, lie was an angry and disappointed man, and was by no means disposed to incur unpopularity in the cause of a government to which he owed nothing, and from which he hoped nothing. Of the trial no detailed report has come down to us; but we have both a Whig narrative and a Jacobite narrative.* It seems that the prisoners who were first arraigned did not sever in their challenges, and were consequently tried together. Williams examined or rather crossexamined his own witnesses with a severity which confused them. The crowd which filled the court laughed and clamoured. Lunt in particular became completely bewildered, mistook one person for another, and did not recover himself till the Judges took him out of the hands of the counsel for the Crown. For some of the prisoners an alibi was set up. Evidence was also produced to show, what was undoubtedly quite true, that Lunt was a man of abandoned character. The result however seemed doubtful till, to the dismay of the prosecutors, Taaffe entered the box. He swore with unblushing forehead that the whole story of the plot was a circum- * The Whig narrative is Kingston’s; the Jacobite narrative, by an anonymous author, has lately been printed by the Chetham Society. Sec also a Letter out of Lancashire to a Friend in London, giving some Account of the late Trials, 1694. WILLIAM AND MARY. 335 stantial lie devised by himself and Lunt. Williams threw down chap. his brief; and, in truth, a more honest advocate might well — have done the same. The prisoners who were at the bar were instantly acquitted: those who had not yet been tried were set at liberty: the witnesses for the prosecution were pelted out of Manchester: the Clerk of the Crown narrowly escaped with life; and the Judges took their departure amidst hisses and execrations. A few days after the close of the trials at Manchester Wil- Meeting liam returned to England. On the twelfth of November, only pariu- forty eight hours after his arrival at Kensington, the itouses monl ' met. lie congratulated them on the improved aspect of affairs. Both by land and by sea the events of the year which was about to close had been, on the whole, favourable to the allies: the French armies had made no progress: the French fleets had not ventured to show themselves: nevertheless, a safe and honourable peace could be obtained only by a vigorous prosecution of the war; and the war could not be vigorously prosecuted without large supplies. William then reminded the Commons that the Act by which they had settled the tonnage and poundage on the Crown for four years was about to expire, and expressed his hope that it would be renewed. After the King had spoken, the Commons, for some reason Death of which no writer has explained, adjourned for a week. Before they met again, an event took place which caused great sorrow at the palace, and through all the ranks of the Low Church party. Tillotson was taken suddenly ill while attending public worship in the chapel of Whitehall. Prompt remedies might perhaps have saved him: but he would not interrupt the prayers; and, before the service was over, his malady was beyond the reach of medicine. He was almost speechless: but his friends long remembered with pleasure a few broken ejaculations which showed that he enjoyed peace of mind to the last. He was 336 HISTOBY OP ENGLAND. CRAP. XX. itiUA. buried in the church of Saint Laivrence Jewry, near Guildhall. - It was there that he had won his immense oratorical reputation. He had preached there during the thirty years which preceded his elevation to the throne of Canterbury. His eloquence had attracted to the heart of the City crowds of the learned and polite, from the Inns of Court and from the lordly mansions of Saint James’s and Soho. A considerable part of his congregation had generally consisted of young clergymen, who came to learn the art of preaching at the feet of him who was universally considered as the first of preachers. To this church his remains were now carried through a mourning population. The hearse was followed by an endless train of splendid equipages from Lambeth through Southwark and over London Bridge. Burnet preached the funeral sermon. His kind and honest heart was overcome by so many tender recollections that, in the midst of his discourse, he paused and burst into tears, while a loud moan of sorrow rose from the whole auditory. The Queen could not speak of her favourite instructor without weeping. Even William was visibly moved. “I have lost,” he said, “the best friend that I ever had, and the best man that I ever knew.” The only Englishman who is mentioned with tenderness in any part of the great mass of letters which the King wrote to TIeinsius is Tillotson. The Archbishop had left a widow. To her William granted a pension of four hundred a year, which he afterwards increased to six hundred. His anxiety that she should receive her income regularly and without stoppages was honourable to him. Every quarterday he ordered the money, without any deduction, to be brought to himself, and immediately sent it toher. Tillotson had bequeathed to her no property, except a great number of manuscript sermons. Such was his fame among his contemporaries that those sermons were purchased by the booksellers for the almost incredible sum of two thousand five hundred guineas, equivalent, in the wretched state in which WILLIAM AND MAltr. 337 the silver coin then was, to at least three thousand six hundred chap. pounds. Such a price had never before been given in England for any copyright. About the same timeDryden, whose reputation was then in the zenith, received thirteen hundred pounds for his translation of all the works of Virgil, and was thought to have been splendidly remunerated. * It was not easy to fill satisfactorily the high place which Tenia™ Tillotson had left vacant. Mary gave her voice for Stillingfleet, shop of and pressed his claims as earnestly as she ever ventured to press bury, any thing. In abilities and attainments he had few superiors among the clergy. But, though he would probably have been considered as a Low Churchman by Jane and South, he was too high a Churchman for William; and Tenison was appointed. The new primate was not eminently distinguished by eloquence or learning: but he was honest, prudent, laborious and benevolent: he had been a good rector of a large parish and a good bishop of a large diocese: detraction had not yet been busy with his name; and it might well be thought that a man of plain sense, moderation and integrity, was more likely than a man of brilliant genius and lofty spirit to succeed in the arduous task of quieting a discontented and distracted Church. Meanwhile the Commons had entered upon business. They cheerfully voted about two million four hundred thousand pounds for the army, and as much for the navy. The land tax for the year was again fixed at four shillings in the pound: the Tonnage Act was renewed for a term of five years; and a fund was established on which the government was authorised to borrow two millions and a half. Some time was spent by both Houses in discussing the Debate.. Manchester trials. If the malecontents had been wise, thev Lnnca- • shire pro- * „ sccutions, * Birch’s Life of Tillotson; the Funeral Sermon preached by Burnet; William-to llcinsius, 1694. * Dec. S. Macaulay, History. VII. 22 338 HISTOllY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. would have been satisfied with the advantage which they had already gained. Their friends had been set free. The prosecutors had with difficulty escaped from the hands of an enraged multitude. The character of the government had been seriously damaged. The ministers were accused, in prose and in verse, sometimes in earnest and sometimes in jest, of having hired a gang of ruffians to swear away the lives of honest gentlemen. 1*1 veil moderate politicians, who gave no credit to these foul imputations, owned that Trenchard ought to have remembered the villanies of Fuller and Young, and to have been on his guard against such wretches as Taaffe and Lunt. The unfortunate Secretary’s health and spirits had given way. It was said that he was dying; and it was certain that he would not long continue to hold the seals. The Tories had Avon a great victory; but, in their eagerness to improA'e it, they turned it into a defeat. Early in the session IIoAve complained, Avith his usual vehemence and asperity, of the indignities to which innocent and honourable men, highly' descended and highly esteemed, had been subjected by Aaron Smith and the AA'retches Avho Avere in his pay. The leading Whigs, AA'ith great judgment, demanded an inquiry. Then the Tories began to flinch. They Avell kncAV that an inquiry could not strengthen their case, and might weaken it. The issue, they said, had been tried: a jury had pronounced: the A'erdict was definitive; and it Avould ho monstrous to give the false Avitnesses AA'ho had been stoned out of Manchester an opportunity of repeating their lesson. To this argument the answer Avas obvious. The verdict Avas definitive as respected the defendants, but not as respected the prosecutors. The prosecutors were noAV in their turn defendants, and were entitled to all the privileges of defendants. It did not follow, because the Lancashire gentlemen had been found, and very properly found, not guilty of treason, that the Secretary of WILLIAM AND MARY. 339 State or the Solicitor of the Treasury had been guilty of unfairness or even of rashness. The House, by one hundred and nineteen votes to one hundred and two resolved that Aaron Smith and the witnesses on both sides should be ordered to attend. Several days were passed in examination and crossexamination; and sometimes the sittings extended far into the night. It soon became clear that the prosecution had not been lightly instituted, and that some of the persons who had been acquitted had been concerned in treasonable schemes. The Tories would now have been content with a drawn battle: but the Whigs were not disposed to forego their advantage. It was moved that there had been a sufficient ground for the proceedings before the Special Commission; and this motion was carried without a division. The opposition proposed to add some words implying that the witnesses for the Crown had forsworn themselves: but these words were rejected by one hundred and thirty six votes to one hundred and nine; and it was resolved by one hundred and thirty three totes to ninety seven that there had been a dangerous conspiracy. The Lords had meanwhile been deliberating on the same subject, and had come to the same conclusion. They sent Taaffe to prison for prevarication; and they passed resolutions acquitting both the government and the judges of all blame. The public however continued to think that the gentlemen who had been tried at Manchester had been unjustifiably persecuted, till a Jacobite plot of singular atrocity, brought home to the plotters by decisive evidence, produced a violent revulsion of feeling. * Meanwhile three bills, which had been repeatedly discussed in preceding years, and two of which had been carried in vain to the foot of the throne, had been again brought in; the Place * See the Journals of the two Houses. The only account that we have of the debates is in the letters of LTIermitnge. CHAP. XX. 1 22 * 340 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. 1694 . I'laceBiU. Bill for the Regulation of Trials in cases of Treason. The Triennial Bill i>asscd. Bill, the Bill for the Regulation of Trials in cases of Treason, and the Triennial Bill. The Place Bill did hot reach the Lords. It was thrice read in the Lower House, but was not passed. At the very last moment it was rejected by a hundred and seventy five votes to a hundred and forty two. Howe and Harley were the tellers for the minority. * The Bill for the Regulation of Trials in cases of Treason went up again to the Peers. Their Lordships again added to it the clause which had formerly been fatal to it. The Commons again refused to grant any new privilege to the hereditary aristocracy. Conferences were again held: reasons were again exchanged: both Houses were again obstinate; and the bill was again lost. ** The Triennial Bill was more fortunate. It was brought in on the first day of the session, and went easily and rapidly through both Houses. The only question about which there was any serious contention was, how long the existing Parliament should be suffered to continue. After several sharp debates November in the year 1696 was fixed as the extreme term. The Tonnage Bill and the Triennial Bill proceeded almost side by side. Both were, on the twenty-second of December, ready for the royal assent. William came in state on that day to Westminster. The attendance of members of both Houses was large. When the Clerk of the Crown read the words, “A Bill for the frequent Calling and Meeting of Parliaments,” the anxiety was great. When the Clerk of the Parliament made answer, “Le roy et la royne le veulent,” a * Commons’ Journals, Feb. 20. 169£. As this bill never reached the Lords, it is not to be found among their archives. I have therefore no means of discovering whether it differed in any respect from the bill of the preceding year. ** The history of this bill may be read in the Journals of the Houses. The contest, not a very vehement one, lasted till the ‘20th of April. WILLIAM AND MART. 341 loud and long hum of delight and exultation rose from the chap. benches and the bar.* William had resolved many months ^ — before not to refuse his assent a second time to so popular a law.** There were some however who thought that he would not have made so great a concession if he had on that day been quite himself. It was plain indeed that he was strangely agitated and unnerved. It had been announced that he would dine in public at Whitehall. But he disappointed the curiosity of the multitude which on such occasions flocked to the Court, and hurried back to Kensington.*** He had but too good reason to be uneasy. His wife had, Death of during two or three days, been poorly; and on the preceding evening grave symptoms had appeared. Sir Thomas Millington, who was physician in ordinary' to the King, thought that she had the measles. But lladcliffe, who, with coarse manners and little book learning, had raised himself to the first practice in London chiefly by his rare skill in diagnostics, uttered the more alarming words, small pox. That disease, over which science has since achieved a succession of glorious and beneficent victories, was then the most terrible of all the ministers of death. The havoc of the plague had been far more rapid: but the plague had visited our shores only once or twice within living memory; and the small pox was always present, filling the churchy'ards with corpses, tormenting with constant fears all whom it had not y'et stricken, leaving on those whose lives it spared the hideous traces of its power, turning the babe into a changeling at which the mother shuddered, and making the eyes and cheeks of the betrothed maiden objects of horror to * “The Commons,” says Narcissus Luttrell, “gave a great hum.” “Le murmure qui est la marque d’applaudissement fut si grand qu'on peut dire qu’il e«loit universel.” — L’Hermitage, ^ } ** L’Hermitage says this in his despatch of Nov. l)ec. 25. *** Burnet, ii. 137.; Van Citters, --— Jan. 4. 342 31IST0T1Y OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. 1694. the lover. Towards the end of the year 1C94, this pestilence was more than usually severe. At length the infection spread to the palace, and reached the young and blooming Queen. She received the intimation of her danger with true greatness of soul. She gave orders that every lady of her bedchamber, every maid of honour, nay, every menial servant, who had not had the small pox, should instantly leave Kensington House. She locked herself up during a short time in her closet, burned some papers, arranged others, and then calmly awaited her fate. During two or three days there were many alternations of hope and fear. The physicians contradicted each other and themselves in a way which sufficiently indicates the state of medical science in that age. The disease was measles: it was scarlet fever: it was spotted fever: it was erysipelas. At one moment some symptoms, which in truth showed that the case was almost hopeless, were hailed as indications of returning health. At length all doubt was over. Radelifie’s opinion proved to be right. It was plain that the Queen was sinking under small pox of the most malignant type. All this time William remained night and day near her bedside. The little couch on which he slept when he was in camp was spread for him in the antechamber: but he scarcely lay down on it. The sight of his misery, the Dutch Envoy wrote, was enough to melt the hardest heart. Nothing seemed to be left of the man whose serene fortitude had been the wonder of old soldiers on the disastrous day of Landen, and of old sailors on that fearful night among the sheets of ice and banks of sand on the coast of Goree. The very domestics’ saw the tears running unchecked down that face, of which the stern composure-had seldom been disturbed by any triumph or by any defeat. Several of the prelates were in attendance. The King drew Burnet aside, and gave way to an agony of grief. “There WILLIAM AND .MARY. 343 is no hope,” he cried. “I was the happiest man on earth; and I am the most miserable. She had no fault; none: you knew her well: but you could not know, nobody but myself could know, her goodness.” Tenison undertook to tell her that she was dying. He was afraid that such a communication, abruptly made, might agitate her violently, and began with much management. But she soon caught his meaning, and, with that gentle womanly courage which so often puts our bravery to shame, submitted herself to the will of God. She called for a small cabinet in which her most important papers were locked up, gave orders that, as soon as she was no more, it should be delivered to the King, and then dismissed worldly cares from her mind. She received the Eucharist, and repeated her part of the office with unimpaired memory and intelligence, though in a feeble voice. She observed that Tenison had been long standing at her bedside, and, with that sweet courtesy which was habitual to her, faltered out her commands that he would sit down, and repeated them till he obeyed. After she had received the sacrament she sank rapidly, and uttered only a few broken words. Twice she tried to take a last farewell of him whom she had loved so truly and entirely: but she was unable to speak. He had a succession of fits so alarming that his Privy Councillors, who were assembled in a neighbouring room, were apprehensive for his reason and his life. The Duke of Leeds, at the request of his colleagues, ventured to assume the friendly guardianship of which minds deranged by sorrow stand in need. A few minutes before the Queen expired, William was removed, almost insensible, from the sickroom. Mary died in peace with Anne. Before the physicians had pronounced the case hopeless, the Princess, who was then in very delicate health, had sent a kind message; and Mary had returned a kind answer. The Princess had then proposed to come herself: but William had, in very gracious terms, declined chap xx. 1694 . 344 HISTOKY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. J694. the offer. The excitement of an interview, he said, would be too much for both sisters. If a favourable turn took place, Her Iloyal Highness should be most welcome to Kensington. A few hours later all was over. * The public sorrow was great and general. For Mary’s blameless life, her large charities and her winning manners had conquered the hearts of her people. "When the Commons next met they sate for a time in profound silence. At length it was moved and resolved that an Address of Condolence should be presented to the King; and then the House broke up without proceeding to other business. The Dutch envoy informed the States General that many of the members had handkerchiefs at their eyes. ' The number of sad faces in the street struck every observer. The mourning was more general than even the mourning for Charles the Second had been. On the Sunday which followed the Queen’s death her virtues were celebrated in almost every parish church of the Capital, and in almost every great meeting of nonconformists.** The most estimable Jacobites respected the sorrow of William and the memory of Mary. But to the fiercer zealots of the party neither the house of mourning nor the grave was sacred. At Bristol the adherents of Sir John Knight rang the bells as if for a victory.*** It has often been repeated, and is not at all improbable, that a nonjuring divine, in the midst of the general lamentation, preached on the text, “Go: see now this cursed * Burnet, ii. 136. 138.; Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary; Van Citters Dec. 2P. ... _ I)cc. 25. Dec 28. , , , , _ --— 16Df: L’Hermitage, ~r - - -— Jan. -i 1 ,.; Vernon to Loru Lex- Jan. /. a Jan. 4. Jan. i. 11 ington, Dec. 21. 25. 28., Jan. 1.; Tcnison's Funeral Sermon. ** Evelyn’s Diary; Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary; Commons’ Journals, Dec. 28. 1694; Shrewsbury to Lexington, of the same date; Van Citters of the same date; L’Hermitage, Jan. 1605. Among the sermons on Mary’s death, that of Sherlock, preached in the Temple Church, and those of Howe and Bates, preached to great Presbyterian congregations, deserve notice. *** Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary. WILLIAM AND MA11Y. 345 woman and bury her: for she is a King’s daughter.” It is certain chap. that some of the ejected priests pursued her to the grave with ■ [C34 - ■ invectives. Her death, they said, was evidently a judgment for her crime. God had, from the top of Sinai, in thunder and lightning, promised length of days to children who should honour their parents; and in this promise was plainly implied a menace. What father had ever been worse treated by his daughters than James by Mary and Anne ? Mary was gone, cut off in the prime of life, in the glow of beauty, in the height of prosperity; and Anne would do well to profit by the warning. Wagstaffe went further, and dwelt much on certain wonderful coincidences of time. James had been driven from his palace and country in Christmas week. Mary had died in Christmas week. There could be no doubt that, if the secrets ofProvidence were disclosed to us, we should find that the turns .of the daughter’s complaint in December 1694 bore an exact analogy to the turns of the father’s fortune in December 1688. It was at midnight that the father ran away from Rochester: it was at midnight that the daughter expired. Such was the profundity and such the ingenuity of a writer whom the Jacobite schismatics justly regarded as one of their ablest chiefs.* The Whigs soon had an opportunity of retaliating. They triumphantly related that a scrivener in the Borough, a stanch friend of hereditary right, while exulting in the judgment which had overtaken the Queen, had himself fallen down dead in a fit.** *•* The funeral was long remembered as the saddest and most Funeral ° , ot Uarj. august that Westminster had ever seen. While the Queens remains lay in state at Whitehall, the neighbouring streets were filled everyday, from sunrise to sunset, by crowds which made * Remarks on some late Sermons, 1695; A Defence of the Archbishop’s Sermon, 1695. *•* Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary. 346 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. CHAP. XX. ]G'9I. all traffic impossible. The two Houses with their maces followed -the hearse, the Lords robed in scarlet and ermine, the Commons in long black mantles. No preceding Sovereign had ever been attended to the grave by a Parliament: for, till then, the Parliament had always expired with the Sovereign. A paper had indeed been circulated, in which the logic of a small sharp pettifogger was employed to prove that writs, issued in the joint names of William and Mary, ceased to be of force as soon as William reigned alone. But this paltry cavil had completely failed. It had not even been mentioned in the Lower House, and had been mentioned in the Upper onlyto be contemptuously overruled. The whole Magistracy of the City swelled the procession. The banners of England and France, Scotland and Ireland, were carried by great nobles before the corpse. The pall was borne by the chiefs of the illustrious houses of Howard, Seymour, Grey, and Stanley. On the gorgeous coffin of purple and gold were laid the crown and sceptre of the realm. The day was well suited to such a ceremony. The sky was dark and troubled; and a few' ghastly flakes of snow fell on the black plumes of the funeral car. Within the Abbey, nave, choir and transept were in a blaze with innumerable waxlights. The body w'as deposited under a magnificent canopy in the centre of the church while the Primate preached. The earlier part of his discourse was deformed by pedantic divisions and subdivisions: but towards the close he told what he had himself seen and heard with a simplicity and earnestness more affecting than the most skilful rhetoric. Through the whole ceremony the distant booming of cannon was heard every minute from the batteries of the Tower. The gentle Queen sleeps among her illustrious kindred in the southern aisle of the Chapel of Henry the Seventh. * * L’Hermitage, March T \. -jV 1.695; London Gazette, March 7.; Teni- son’s Funeral Sermon.; Evelyn’s Diary. WILLIAM AND MAlir. • 347 The affection with which her husband cherished her memory chap. was soon attested by a monument the most superb that was ever —- erected to any sovereign. No scheme had been so much her Grccn _ own, none had been so near her heart, as that of converting ;™ h . the palace at Greenwich into a retreat for seamen. It had oc- founded, curred to her when she had found it difficult to provide good shelter and good attendance for the thousands of brave men who had come back to England wounded after the battle of La Hogue. While she lived scarcely any step was taken towards the accomplishing of her favourite design. But it should seem that, as .soon as her husband had lost her, he began to reproach himself for having neglected her wishes. No time was lost. A plan was furnished by Wren; and soon an edifice, surpassing that asylum which the magnificent Lewis had provided for his soldiers, rose on the margin of the Thames. Whoever reads the inscription which runs round the frieze of the hall will observe that William claims no part of the merit of the design, and that the praise is ascribed to Mary alone. Had the King’s life been prolonged till the works were completed, a statue of her who was the real foundress of the institution would have had a conspicuous place in that court which presents two lofty domes and two graceful colonnades to the multitudes who are perpetually passing up and down the imperial river. But that part of the plan was never carried into effect; and few of those who now gaze on the noblest of European hospitals are aware that it is a memorial of the virtues of the good Queen Mary, of the love and sorrow of William, and of the great victory of La Hogue. END OF VOL. VII.