Chapter X: Reign of James II (5)

The news of this disaster reached England with many aggravations, so that it was imagined that the expedition would be given up for that season; and James declared with much satisfaction that it was what he expected, the Host having been exposed for several days. He seized, however, the time afforded by this delay to assemble an extraordinary body, the members of the Privy Council, the peers who were in or near London, the judges, the law officers of the Crown, the Lord Mayor and aldermen, the queen-dowager, and two-and-twenty women--some ladies about the queen, some menials. The Princess Anne was summoned, but excused herself on account of indisposition. "I have called you together," said James, "upon a very extraordinary occasion; but extraordinary diseases must have extraordinary remedies. The malicious endeavours of my enemies have so poisoned the minds of many of my subjects, that, by the reports I have from all hands, I have reason to believe that many do think this son which God has pleased to bless me with be none of mine, but a supposititious child." The witnesses were all examined on oath except the queen-dowager, and presented such a mass of evidence as was undoubtedly complete, and it was enrolled in chancery and published. But such was the intense prejudice of the age that it failed to convince the public at large. As Anne was not present, the Council waited on her with a copy of the evidence, on which she observed, "My lords, this was not necessary; the king's word is more to me than all these depositions." Yet her uncle, Clarendon, assures us that she never mentioned the child but with ridicule, and only once was heard to call it the Prince of Wales, and that was when she thought it was dying. Anne, in fact, was devoted to the cause of the Prince of Orange; and Barillon says that she avoided every opportunity of convincing herself of what she did not wish to believe.

This singular deed of verification of the child's identity was the last act of the ministry of Sunderland. His treason had not escaped observation. A letter of his wife's had been intercepted and shown to him by the king, in which she was found in close correspondence with Sidney. He strictly denied all knowledge of it, and did not hesitate to advert to his wife's _liaison_ with Sidney as sufficiently exculpatory of himself. For a time he lulled James's suspicions, but they again revived; and, on the very evening of this extraordinary council, James sent Middleton and demanded the Seals. To the last Sunderland acted the part of injured innocence; but was not long in getting away to the Hague, not, however, in time to join William before his second embarkation. His office of Secretary to the Southern Department was given to Middleton, and of Secretary to the Northern Department to Lord Preston, both Protestants. Petre was dismissed from the Council, but retained his post as Clerk of the Closet at Whitehall. But all this did not alter the tone of public feeling. The very day before the assembling of the extraordinary council, the London mob demolished a new Catholic chapel; and on the 14th of October, the king's birthday, there had been no sign of rejoicing, not even the firing of the Tower guns; but the people reminded one another that it was the anniversary of the landing of William the Conqueror. Their thoughts were running on the landing of another William.

On the 1st of November the Prince of Orange again set sail, and this time with a favourable though strong gale from the east. Besides the English noblemen and gentlemen whom we have mentioned, including also Fletcher of Saltoun, William had with him Marshal Schomberg, an able and experienced general, who was appointed second in command; Bentinck, Overkirk, and Counts Solmes and Sturm. Herbert was the chief admiral, much to the chagrin of the Dutch admirals, but very wisely so determined by William, who well knew the hereditary jealousy of the Dutch fleet, and the remembered boast and besom of Van Tromp in England. He resolved that, if they came to conflict with Lord Dartmouth, it should be English commander against English, or his cause might receive great prejudice. For twelve hours William drove before the breeze towards the coasts of Yorkshire, as if intending to land there; then, suddenly tacking, he stood down the Channel before the gale. Dartmouth attempted to issue from the mouth of the Thames to intercept him, but the violent wind which favoured William perfectly disabled him. His vessels as they came out to sea were driven back with much damage, compelled to strike yards and top-masts, and to lie abreast the Longsand; whilst William, leading the way in the _Brill_, sailed rapidly past with his whole fleet and a crowd of other vessels that had gathered in his rear, to the amount of nearly seven hundred. It was twenty-four hours before Dartmouth could give chase, and on the 5th of November William reached Torbay, his real destination.

William took up his quarters in a cottage whilst his troops were landing, and from its thatched roof waved the flag of Holland, bearing the significant motto, "I will maintain the Protestant Religion and the Liberties of England." Burnet was one of the first to congratulate William on his landing on English soil; and, at the recommendation of Carstares, the first thing on the complete disembarkation was to collect the troops, and return public thanks to Heaven for the successful passage of the armament. The next day William marched in the direction of Exeter; but the rains continued, and the roads were foul, so that he made little progress. It was not till the 9th that he appeared before the city. The people received him with enthusiasm, but the magistracy shrank back in terror, and Bishop Lamplough and the dean had fled to warn the king of the invasion. The city was in utter confusion, and at first shut its gates; but as quickly agreed to open them, and William was accommodated in the vacated deanery. But the people of the West had suffered too much from the support of Monmouth not to have learnt caution. A service was ordered in the cathedral to return thanks for the safe arrival of the prince; but the canons absented themselves, and only some of the prebendaries and choristers attended, and, as soon as Burnet began to read the prince's declaration, these hurried out as fast as they could. On Sunday, which was the 11th, Burnet was the only clergyman that could be got to preach before the prince, and the Dissenters refused the fanatic Ferguson admittance to their chapel. This extraordinary person, however, who appears to have been one-third enthusiast and two-thirds knave, called for a hammer, and exclaiming, "I will take the kingdom of heaven by storm!" broke open the door, marched to the pulpit with his drawn sword in his hand, and delivered one of those wild and ill-judged philippics against the king which did so much mischief in the attempt of Monmouth.

Altogether, so far the cause of William appeared as little promising as that of Monmouth had done. Notwithstanding the many earnest entreaties from men of high rank and of various classes--nobles, bishops, officers of the army and navy,--a week had elapsed, and no single person of influence had joined him. The people only, as in Monmouth's case, had crowded about him with shouts of welcome. William was extremely disappointed and chagrined; he declared that he was deluded and betrayed, and he vowed that he would re-embark, and leave those who had called for him to work out their own deliverance, or receive their due punishment. But on Monday, the 12th, his spirits were a little cheered by a gentleman of Crediton, named Burrington, attended by a few followers, joining his standard. This was immediately followed, however, by the news that Lord Lovelace, with about seventy of his tenants and neighbours, had been intercepted by the militia at Cirencester, taken prisoners, and sent to Gloucester Castle. The slow movement of the disaffected appears to have originated in William's not having landed in Yorkshire, as was expected, but in the west, where he was not expected. In the North Lords Delamere and Brandon in Cheshire, Danby and Lumley in Yorkshire, Devonshire and Chesterfield in Derbyshire, in Lancashire the Earl of Manchester, in Nottinghamshire and Lincolnshire Rutland and Stamford, and others were all waiting to receive him. The very army which had been encamped on Hounslow Heath was the seat of a secret conspiracy of officers, with Churchill himself at their head, who kept up constant communication with the club at the "Rose" tavern in Covent Garden, of which Lord Colchester was president. But all this concert was paralysed for a time by William's appearance in so distant a quarter.

But the elements of revolt, which had suffered a momentary shock, now began to move visibly. The very day that Lord Lovelace was captured, Lord Colchester marched into Exeter, attended by about seventy horse, and accompanied by the hero of "Lillibullero," Thomas Wharton. They were quickly followed by Russell, the son of the Duke of Bedford, one of the earliest promoters of the revolution, and still more significantly by the Earl of Abingdon, a staunch Tory, who had supported James till he saw that nothing but the reign of Popery would satisfy him. A still more striking defection from the king immediately followed. Lord Cornbury, the eldest son of the Earl of Clarendon, pretended to have received orders to march with three regiments of cavalry stationed at Salisbury Moor, to the enemy in the west. He was a young man entirely under the influence of Lord Churchill, having been brought up in the household of his cousin, the Princess Anne, where Churchill and his wife directed everything; and there can be no doubt that this movement was the work of Churchill. As the cavalry proceeded from place to place by a circuitous route to Axminster, the officers became suspicious, and demanded to see the orders. Cornbury replied that his orders were to beat up the quarters of the army in the night near Honiton. The loyal officers, who had received hints that all was not right, demanded to see the written orders; but Cornbury, who had none to produce, stole away in the dark with a few followers who were in the secret, and got to the Dutch camp. His regiment, and that of the Duke of Berwick, James's own (natural) son, with the exception of about thirty troops, returned to Salisbury; but the third regiment, the Duke of St. Albans', followed the colonel, Langton, to Honiton, where General Talmash received them; and most of the officers and a hundred and fifty privates declared for the prince, the rest being made prisoners, but soon afterwards discharged.

The news of this defection of one so near to the king's family created the greatest consternation in the palace. In his terror James summoned a military council. He was anxious to receive the assurances of fidelity from his other officers--as if any assurances, under the circumstances, anything but leading them against the enemy, could test the loyalty of these men. He told them that he wished to be satisfied that there were no more Cornburys amongst them; and that if any had scruples about fighting for him, he was ready to receive back their commissions. Of course they protested the most ardent devotion to his cause, though there was not a man of them that was not already pledged to desert him. Churchill, recently made a lieutenant-general, and the Duke of Grafton, the king's nephew, were especially fervid in their expressions of loyalty; so, too, were Trelawney, smarting secretly over the persecution of his brother, the Bishop of Bristol, and the savage Kirke, who, when James had importuned him to turn Papist, had replied that he "was sorry, but he had already engaged to the Grand Turk that if he changed his religion he would become a Mussulman." Reassured by these hollow professions, James gave orders for joining the camp at Salisbury; but the next morning, before he could set out, he was waited on by a numerous deputation of lords spiritual and temporal, with Sancroft at their head, praying that a free Parliament might be immediately called, and communication opened with the Prince of Orange.

James received the deputation ungraciously. In all his hurried concessions he had still shown his stubborn spirit by refusing to give up the Dispensing power; and now, though he declared that what they asked he passionately desired, he added that he could not call a Parliament till the Prince of Orange quitted the kingdom. "How," he asked, "can you have a free Parliament whilst a foreign prince, at the head of a foreign force, has the power to return a hundred members?" He then fell foul of the bishops, reminding them that the other day they refused to avow under their hands their disapproval of the invasion, on the plea that their vocation was not in politics; and yet here they were at the very head of a political movement. He charged them with fomenting the rebellion, and retired, declaring to his courtiers that he would not concede an atom. He then appointed a council of five lords--of whom two were Papists, and the third Jeffreys--to keep order during his absence, sent off the Prince of Wales to Portsmouth to the care of the Duke of Berwick, the commander, and set out for Salisbury. He reached his camp on the 19th of November, and ordered a review the next day at Warminster, of Kirke's division. Churchill and Kirke were particularly anxious that he should proceed to this review, and Kirke and Trelawney hastened on to their forces, on pretence of making the necessary preparations. On the other hand, Count de Roye as earnestly dissuaded James from going to Warminster. He told him that the enemy's advanced foot was at Wincanton, and that the position at Warminster, or even that where they were at Salisbury, was untenable. James, however, was resolved to go; but the next morning, the 20th, he was prevented by a violent bleeding at the nose, which continued unchecked for three days.

Scarcely had this impediment occurred when news came that the king's forces had been attacked at Wincanton, and worsted by some of the division of General Mackay. James was now assured that, had he gone to Warminster, he would have been seized by traitors near his person, and carried off to the enemy's quarters. He was advised to arrest Churchill and Grafton; but, with his usual imprudence, he refused, and summoned them along with the other officers to a military council, to decide whether they should advance or retreat. Feversham, Roye, and Dumbarton argued for a retreat; Churchill persisted in his recommendation of an advance to the post at Warminster. The council lasted till midnight, when Churchill and Grafton, seeing that their advice was not followed, felt the time was come to throw off the mask, and therefore rode directly away to the prince's lines. The next morning the discovery of this desertion filled the camp with consternation, and this was at its height when it was known that Churchill's brother, a colonel, Trelawney, Barclay, and about twenty privates had ridden after the fugitives. It was said that Kirke was gone too, but it was not the fact; and he was now arrested for having disobeyed orders sent to him from Salisbury; but he professed such indignation at the desertion of Churchill and the others, that the shallow-minded king set him again at liberty. The deserters were received by William with a most gracious welcome, though Schomberg remarked of Churchill that he was the first lieutenant-general that he had ever heard of running away from his colours.

In James's camp all was confusion, suspicion, and dismay. There was not a man who was sure of his fellow, and the retreat which commenced more resembled a flight. Numbers who would have fought had they been led at once to battle, now lost heart, and stole away on all sides. The news that found its way every hour into the demoralised camp was enough to ruin any army. From every quarter came tidings of insurrection. The Earl of Bath, the Governor of Plymouth, had surrendered the place solemnly to William; Sir Edward Seymour, Sir William Portman, Sir Francis Warre--men of immense influence in Devon, Somerset, and Dorset--were already with William at Exeter; a paper had been drawn up and signed by the leading persons there to stand by the prince, and, whether he succeeded or whether he fell, never to cease till they had obtained all the objects in his declaration; Delamere had risen in Chester, and had reached Manchester on his way south; Danby had surprised the garrison at York; the town had warmly welcomed him, and a great number of peers, baronets, and gentlemen were in arms with him. Devonshire had called together the authorities and people of Derby, and published his reason for appearing in arms, calling on them to assist all true men in obtaining a settlement of the public rights in a free Parliament. At Nottingham he was met by the Earls of Rutland, Stamford, Manchester, Chesterfield, and the Lords Cholmondeley and Grey de Ruthyn.

These were tidings of a reaction as determined as James's headstrong career had been; but the worst had not yet overtaken him. On the evening of November 24th he had retreated towards London as far as Andover. Prince George of Denmark, the husband of the Princess Anne, and the Duke of Ormond, supped with him. Prince George was a remarkably stupid personage, whose constant reply to any news was, "Est-il possible?" When the intelligence of one desertion after another came he had exclaimed, "Est-il possible?" But the moment supper was over and the king gone to bed, Prince George and Ormond rode off to the enemy too. When James the next morning was informed of this mortifying news, he coolly replied, "What! Is 'Est-il possible' gone too? Were he not my son-in-law, a single trooper would have been a greater loss." With the prince and Ormond had also fled Lord Drumlanrig, the eldest son of the Duke of Queensberry, Mr. Boyle, Sir George Hewit, and other persons of distinction. The blow was severe; and though James at the first moment, being stunned, as it were, seemed to bear it with indifference, he pursued his way to London in a state of intense exasperation. There the first news that met him was the flight of his own daughter Anne. Anne was bound up, soul and body, with the Churchills, and it had no doubt been for some time settled amongst them that they should all get away to the prince her brother-in-law.

It was towards evening of the same day that Anne fled that James arrived at Whitehall, agitated by the awful desertions of his highest officers and his nearest relatives. This announcement put the climax to his torture. He exclaimed, "God help me! My very children have forsaken me." Severe as the punishment of his desperate treason against his people deserved to be, this certainly was a cruel fate. For some days a lady near his person records that she thought she saw in him occasional aberrations of intellect. That night he sat late in council, and it was urged on him to call together such peers and prelates as were in London to consult on the necessary steps in this crisis. The next day came together nearly fifty peers and bishops, and James asked their advice as to calling a Parliament. On this head there appeared no difference of opinion; but Halifax, Nottingham, and others, urged with equal earnestness that all Catholics should be dismissed from office, and a general amnesty published for all in arms against him. James assented to the calling a Parliament, but his eyes were still not opened to the folly of his past conduct, and he would give no assurance of dismissing the Papists, and broke out into vehement language at the proposal to pardon his enemies. "My lords," he said, "you are wonderfully anxious for the safety of my enemies, but none of you troubles himself about my safety." And he vowed that he would yet take vengeance on those who had deserted him, and, above all, on Churchill. Clarendon, who was on the eve of running off to William, took the opportunity to utter the bitter feelings which his dismissal from the Lord-Lieutenancy of Ireland to make way for Tyrconnel had no doubt long left in his mind. He upbraided James with his dogged and incurable Popery, with sacrificing everybody and everything for it; declaring that, even at that moment, James was raising a regiment from which Protestants were rigorously excluded. He taunted him with running away from the enemy, and asked him who was likely to fight for him when he himself was the first to flee.

After this severe treatment by his closest connections, James appeared to comply with the advice of the lords. He sent for Halifax, Nottingham, and Godolphin, and informed them that he had appointed them Commissioners to treat with William. He dismissed Sir Edward Hales from the Tower, and placed Bevil Skelton, a Protestant, there. But the nature or the intention of this most obtuse of bigots was by no means changed; he was internally as determined as ever to reverse every concession on the first possible occasion. Barillon tells us that he assured him that all this was a mere feint; that he only sent the Commissioners to William in order to gain time for sending his wife and child into France; that as to calling a Parliament, that would only be to put himself into their power, and compel him to submit to their conditions; that he had no faith in his troops, except the Irish; none of the rest would fight for him; and, therefore, as soon as the queen and young prince were safe, he should get away to Ireland, Scotland, or France, and await the turn of events. Such was the utterly hopeless character of the Stuart race!

To clear the way for the escape of the royal infant, Lord Dover was put in command at Portsmouth, and James sent orders to Lord Dartmouth to see that the child was safely conveyed to the French coast. In anticipation of the accomplishment of this object, he made every preparation for his own flight. He sent to Jeffreys to bring the Great Seal, and take up his quarters with it in the palace, lest by any means it should fall into the hands of the invader, and thus give an air of authority to his proceedings. But his escape was delayed by unpleasant news from Lord Dartmouth. The announcement of the calling of a Parliament, and of attempted agreement with the Prince of Orange, had spread exultation through the navy, and the officers had despatched an address of fervent thanks to James, when the arrival of the infant prince awoke a general suspicion that all was still hollow, and that James meant nothing but escape. The officers were in great agitation, and plainly pointed out to Dartmouth his heavy responsibility if he allowed the prince to quit the kingdom. Dartmouth, therefore, wrote James, declaring that he would risk his life for the support of the Crown, but that he dared not undertake to facilitate the escape of the Prince of Wales. This was confounding news, and James took instant measures for the return of his son to London, and for his escape by another means to France.

Meanwhile William was gradually advancing towards the capital, and, on the 6th of December, the king's Commissioners met him at Hungerford, where they found the Earls of Clarendon and Oxford already swelling the Court of the invader. They were received with much respect, and submitted their master's proposal that all matters in dispute should be referred to the Parliament for which the writs were ordered, and that, in the meantime, the Dutch army should not advance nearer than forty miles from London. The Whigs in William's Court were decidedly averse from reconciliation with James, whose implacable nature they knew; but William insisted on acceding to the terms, on condition that the royal forces should remove the same distance from the capital, and that the Tower of London and Tilbury Fort should be put into the keeping of the City authorities. If it were necessary for the king and prince to proceed to Westminster during the negotiations, they should go attended only by a small guard. Nothing could be fairer; but William knew well the character of his father-in-law, and felt assured that he would by some means shuffle out of the agreement, and throw the odium of failure on himself; and he was not deceived. Never had James so fair an opportunity of recovering his position and securing his throne, under constitutional restraints, for his life; but he was totally incapable of such wisdom and honesty.

On the very day that the royal Commissioners reached William's camp, James received the Prince of Wales back from Portsmouth, and prepared to send him off to France by another route. On the night of the 10th of December he sent the queen across the Thames in darkness and tempest, disguised as an Italian lady, and attended by two Italian women, one of whom was the child's nurse, and the other carried the boy in her arms. They were guarded by two French refugees of distinction--Antonine, Count of Lauzun, and his friend Saint Victor. They arrived safely at Gravesend, where a yacht awaited them, on board of which were Lord and Lady Powis. Saint Victor returned to inform James that they had got clear off, and in a few hours they were safely in Calais.

Scarcely did Saint Victor bring the cheering news of the auspicious sailing of the yacht, when the Commissioners arrived with the conditions that had been agreed on by William. Here was the guarantee for a speedy adjustment of all his difficulties; but the false and distorted-minded James only saw in the circumstance a wretched means of further deceit and contempt of his people and of all honourable negotiation. He pretended to be highly satisfied, summoned for the morrow a meeting of all the peers in town, and of the Lord Mayor and aldermen, and directed that they should deliberate freely and decide firmly for the good of the country. This done, he retired to rest, ordered Jeffreys to be with him early in the morning, said to Lord Mulgrave, as he bade him good night, that the news from William was most satisfactory, and, before morning, had secretly decamped, leaving his kingdom to take care of itself rather than condescend to a pacification with his son-in-law and his subjects, which should compel him to rule as a constitutional king.

But James was not satisfied with this contemptible conduct; he indulged himself before going with creating all the confusion that he could. Had the writs, which were preparing, been left for issue on the 15th of January, 1689, a new Parliament would be in existence, ready to settle the necessary measures for future Government; he therefore collected the writs and threw them into the fire with his own hands, and annulled a number which were already gone out, by an instrument for the purpose. He also left a letter for Lord Feversham, announcing his departure from the kingdom, and desiring him no longer to expose the lives of himself and his soldiers "by resistance to a foreign army and a poisoned nation;" then, taking the Great Seal in his hand, he bade the Earl of Northumberland, who was the Lord of the Bedchamber on duty, and lay on a pallet bed in the king's room, not to unlock the door till the usual hour in the morning, and then, disguised as a country gentleman, disappeared down the back stairs. He was waited for by Sir Edward Hales, whom he afterwards created Earl of Tenterden, and they proceeded in a hackney-coach to Millbank, where they crossed the river in a boat to Vauxhall. When in mid-stream, he flung the Great Seal into the water, trusting that it would never be seen any more; but it was afterwards dragged up by a fishing-net. James, attended by Hales and Sheldon, one of the royal equerries, drove at a rapid pace for Elmley Ferry, near the Isle of Sheppey, having relays of horse ready engaged. They reached that place at ten in the morning, and got on board the Custom House hoy which was waiting for them, and dropped down the river.

In the morning, when the Duke of Northumberland opened the king's chamber door, and it was discovered that James had fled, the consternation in the palace may be imagined. The courtiers and the numbers of persons who were waiting to fulfil their morning duties, and the lords who had been summoned to council, spread the exciting tidings, and the capital became a scene of the wildest and most alarming confusion. Feversham obeyed the orders of the king left in his letter, without pausing to ask any advice, or to calculate what might be the consequences. These were as serious as might have been expected. There was no Government, no constituted authority to appeal to. Lord Rochester had continued loyal to the last; but the base desertion of James and the imminent danger at once decided him. He bade the Duke of Northumberland muster the Guards, and declare for William. The officers of the other regiments in London followed the advice, and endeavoured to keep together their men, declaring for the Prince of Orange. The lords who had been summoned to Council hastened into the City to concert measures with the Lord Mayor and aldermen for the public safety. A meeting was hastily called in Guildhall, where the peers, twenty-five in number, and five bishops, with Sancroft and the new Archbishop of York at their head, formed themselves into a provisional council to exercise the functions of Government till the Prince of Orange should arrive, for whom they sent a pressing message, praying him to hasten and unite with them for the preservation of the Constitution and the security of the Church. The two Secretaries of State were sent for, but Preston alone came; Middleton denied the authority of the self-created Council. The Lieutenant of the Tower, Bevil Skelton, was ordered to give up the keys to Lord Lucas, and an order was sent to Lord Dartmouth, desiring him to dismiss all Popish officers from the fleet, and attempt nothing against the Dutch fleet. But no measures could prevent the outbreak of the mob in London. The feeling against the Catholics displayed itself on all sides. Under pretence of searching for Papists, the hordes of blackguards from every low purlieu of London swarmed forth and broke into houses, and plundered them at their pleasure. The vile Jeffreys was with difficulty saved from the fury of the mob.

James, his heartless master, was also seized. The Custom House hoy in which he embarked was found wanting in ballast, and the captain was obliged to run her ashore near Sheerness. About eleven at night on the 12th of December, before the hoy could be floated again by the tide, she was boarded by a number of fishermen who were on the look-out for fugitives, and the appearance of the king immediately attracted their notice. "That is Father Petre," cried one fellow; "I know him by his hatchet face." James was immediately seized and searched; but, though he had his coronation ring in his pocket, besides other jewels, they missed them, and did not recognise him. They carried him ashore at Feversham, where, at the inn, amid the insults of this rabble, he declared himself their king. The Earl of Winchelsea, hearing of the king's detention, hastened to his assistance, had him removed to the house of the Mayor, and sent word of his capture to London.

When the countryman who carried the messages from Lord Winchelsea arrived at Whitehall, the news of the king's detention occasioned the greatest embarrassment. The lords had sent for William, and hoped that they were well rid of the foolish king. Nothing could have been easier than their course if James had got over to the Continent. The throne would be declared vacant, and the Prince and Princess of Orange invited to occupy it, on giving the necessary guarantees for the maintenance of the Constitution. But now the whole question was involved in difficulties. If James persisted in his right to the throne, in what capacity was William to be received? Could any safe measures be arranged with a man like James? Was he to be deposed, and his son-in-law and daughter forcibly placed on his throne? The dilemma was equally embarrassing to the lords and prelates, and to the prince himself. When the messenger was introduced, and delivered a letter from James, but without any address, Halifax moved that they should instantly adjourn, and thus leave the letter unnoticed. Halifax was deeply incensed at the trick which James had played off upon him in sending him to negotiate with William merely that he might get away, and was now resolved to adhere to the prince; but Lord Mulgrave prevailed on the lords to retain their seats, and obtained from them an order that Lord Feversham should take two hundred Life Guards, and protect the king from insult. Feversham demanded the precise powers of his order, and was told that he must defend the king from insult, but by no means impede the freest exercise of his personal freedom. This meant that they would be glad if he facilitated his escape. Halifax immediately left London, and joined the Prince of Orange, who was now at Henley-on-Thames. Sancroft and the clergy, as soon as they were aware that the king had not left the country, retired from any further participation in the Council. William and his adherents were extremely chagrined at this untoward turn of affairs. When the messenger arrived at Henley he was referred to Burnet, who said, "Why did you not let the king go?"

But when Feversham arrived at the town whose name he bore, the king was no longer disposed to escape. His friends who had gathered about him, Middleton and Lord Winchelsea especially, had endeavoured to show him that his strength lay in remaining. Had he vacated the throne by quitting the kingdom, it had been lost for ever; but now he was king, and might challenge his right; and the prince could not dispossess him without incurring the character of a usurper, and throwing a heavy odium of unnatural severity on himself and his wife. James had sufficient mind left to perceive the strength thus pointed out to him. He resolved to return to his capital, and from Rochester despatched Feversham with a letter to William, whom he found advanced to Windsor, proposing a conference in London, where St. James's should be prepared for the prince. By this time William and his Council had determined on the plan to be pursued in the great difficulty. He had calculated on James's being gone, and had issued orders to the king's army and to the lords at Whitehall in the style of a sovereign. His leading adherents had settled amongst themselves the different offices that they were to occupy as the reward of their adhesion. It was resolved, therefore, if possible, to frighten James into a second flight. No sooner had Feversham delivered his despatch than he was arrested, and thrown into the Round Tower on the charge of having disbanded the army without proper orders, to the danger of the capital, and of having entered the prince's camp without a passport. Zulestein was despatched to inform James that William declined the proposed conference, and recommended him to remain at Rochester.

James, however, was now bent on returning to London. He had not waited for the prince's answer, but on Sunday, the 16th of December, he entered his capital in a sort of triumphal procession. He was preceded by a number of gentlemen, bareheaded. Immense crowds assembled as if to welcome him back again. They cheered him as he rode along. The bells were rung, and bonfires were lit in the streets. Elated by these signs, as he imagined them, of returning popularity, he no sooner reached Whitehall than he called around him the Jesuits who had hidden themselves, stationed Irish soldiers as guards around his palace, had grace said at his table by a Jesuit priest, and expressed his high indignation at the lords and prelates who had presumed to usurp his functions in his absence--who had, in fact, saved the capital from destruction when he had abandoned it. His folly, however, received an abrupt check. Zulestein was announced, and delivered the stern message of William. James was confounded, but again repeated his invitation for his nephew to come to town, that they might settle all differences in a personal conference. Zulestein coldly assured him that William would not enter London whilst it contained troops not under his orders. "Then," said James, "let him bring his own guards, and I will dismiss mine, for I am as well without any as such that I dare not trust." Zulestein, however, retired without further discussion, and the moment he was gone, James was informed of the arrest of Feversham.

Alarmed at these proofs of the stern spirit of William, James sent in haste to Stamps and Lewis, the leading members of the City Council--the Lord Mayor had never recovered his terror of Jeffreys' presence,--to offer to place himself under their protection till all necessary guarantees for the public liberties had been given and accepted. But the Common Council had not had time to forget his seizure of their charter, and they prudently declined to enter into an engagement which, they said, they might not be able to fulfil. Whilst James was thus learning that though the City acclamations might be proofs of regret for his misfortunes, they were by no means proofs of a desire for his continuing to reign, William, on the same day, the 17th, bade all his leading adherents hold a solemn council, to consider what steps should be taken in this crisis. It was understood that he would never consent to enter London whilst James was there, and it was resolved that he should be removed to Ham House, near Richmond, which the brutal Lauderdale had built out of the bribes of Louis XIV. and the money wrung from the ravaged people of Scotland. Halifax, Shrewsbury, and Delamere were despatched to James with this intimation, though Clarendon had done all in his power to have James seized and confined in some foreign fortress till Tyrconnel surrendered Ireland to the prince's party.

Simultaneously with the three lords, William ordered his forces to advance towards London. In the evening of the 17th James heard that the Dutch soldiers had occupied Chelsea and Kennington. By ten o'clock at night Solmes, at the head of three battalions of infantry, was already making across St. James's Park, and sent word that his orders were to occupy Whitehall, and he advised the Earl of Craven, who commanded the Coldstream Guards, to retire. Craven--though now in his eightieth year, was still possessed of the courage and chivalry which he had displayed in the wars of Germany, and which had won him the heart of Elizabeth of Bohemia, who was said to be married to him--declared that, so long as he retained life, no foreign prince should make a King of England a prisoner in his own palace. James, however, ordered him to retire. The Coldstream Guards withdrew, and the Dutch guards surrounded the palace. James, as if there were no danger to his person, went composedly to bed, but only to be roused out of his first sleep to receive the deputation from the prince. On reading the letter proposing his removal to Ham, which Halifax informed him must be done before ten o'clock in the morning, James seems to have taken a final resolve to get away. He protested against going to Ham, as a low, damp place in winter, but offered to retire to Rochester. This was a pretty clear indication of his intention to flee--the very object desired. A messenger was despatched in all speed to the prince, who returned with his full approbation before daybreak.

The morning of the 18th was miserably wet and stormy, but a barge was brought to Whitehall Stairs, and the wretched monarch went on board, attended by the Lords Arran, Dumbarton, Dundee, Lichfield, and Aylesbury. The spectators could not behold this melancholy abdication--for such it was--of the last potentate of a most unwise line, who had lost a great empire by his incurable infatuation, without tears. Even Shrewsbury and Delamere showed much emotion, and endeavoured to soothe the fallen king; but Halifax, incurably wounded in his diplomatic pride by the hollow mission to the prince at Hungerford, stood coldly apart. Boats containing a hundred Dutch soldiers surrounded his barge as it dropped down the river. James landed and slept at Gravesend, and then proceeded to Rochester, where he remained four days.

Though his advisers entreated him not to fly, James had now sunk the last manly feeling of a monarch who would dare much and sacrifice more to retain a noble empire for his family. A dastardly fear that if he remained he would be put to death like his father took possession of him. He made a last offer to the bishops, through the Bishop of Winchester, as he had done to the City of London, to put himself into their hands for safety, but they also declined the responsibility, and he then gave all over as lost. On the evening of the 22nd of December he sat down before supper, and wrote a declaration of his motives for quitting the kingdom. About midnight he stole quietly away with the Duke of Berwick, his natural son, and, after much difficulty, through storm and darkness, reached a fishing smack hired for the purpose, which, on Christmas Day, landed him at Ambleteuse, on the coast of France. Thence he hastened to the castle of St. Germains, which Louis had appointed for his residence, and where, on the 28th, he found his wife and child awaiting him. Louis also was there to receive him, had settled on him a revenue of forty-five thousand pounds sterling yearly, besides giving him ten thousand pounds for immediate wants. The conduct of Louis was truly princely, not only in thus conferring on the fallen monarch a noble and delightful residence, with an ample income, but in making it felt by his courtiers and all France, that he expected the exiled family to be treated with the respect due to the sovereigns of England.

The flight of James had removed the great difficulty of William--that of having recourse to some measure of harshness towards him, as imprisonment, or forcible deposition and banishment, which would have greatly lowered his popularity. The adherents of James felt all this, and were confounded at the advantage which the impolitic monarch had given to his enemies. The joy of William's partisans was great and unconcealed. In France the success of William was beheld with intense mortification, for it was the death-blow to the ascendency of Louis in Europe, which had been the great object of all his wars, and the expensive policy of his whole life. In Holland the elevation of their Stadtholder to the head of the English realm was beheld as the greatest triumph of their nation; and Dykvelt and Nicholas Witsen were deputed to wait on him in London and congratulate him on his brilliant success. But, notwithstanding all these favourable circumstances, there were many knotty questions to be settled before William could be recognised as sovereign. The country was divided into various parties, one of which, including the Tories and the Church, contended that no power or law could affect the divine right of kings; and that although a king by his infamy, imbecility, or open violation of the laws might be restrained from exercising the regal functions personally, those rights remained untouched, and must be invested for the time in a regent chosen by the united Parliament of the nation. Others contended that James's unconstitutional conduct and subsequent flight amounted to an abdication, and that the royal rights had passed on to the next heir; and the only question was, which was the true heir--the daughter of James, the wife of William, or the child called the Prince of Wales? The more determined Whigs contended that the arbitrary conduct of the House of Stuart, and especially of James, who attempted to destroy both the Constitution and the Church, had abrogated the original compact between prince and people, and returned the right of electing a new monarch into the hands of the people; and the only question was, who should that choice be? There were not wanting some who advised William boldly to assume the crown by right of conquest; but he was much too wise to adopt this counsel, having already pledged himself to the contrary in his Declaration, and also knowing how repugnant such an assumption would be to the proud spirit of the nation.

To settle these points he called together, on the 23rd of December, the peers, all the members of any Parliament summoned in the reign of Charles II. who happened to be in town, and the Lord Mayor and aldermen, with fifty other citizens of London, at St. James's, to advise him as to the best mode of fulfilling the terms of his Declaration. The two Houses, thus singularly constituted, proceeded to deliberate on the great question in their own separate apartments. The Lords chose Halifax as their Speaker; the Commons, Henry Powle. The Lords came to the conclusion that a Convention was the only authority which could determine the necessary measures; that in the absence of Charles II. a Convention had called him back to the throne, and therefore a Convention in the absence of James might exercise the same legitimate function. When the Lords presented an address to this effect on the 25th, William received it, but said it would be necessary to receive the conclusion of the Commons before any act could take place. On the 27th the Commons came to the same decision, and William was requested to exercise the powers of the executive till the Convention should assemble.

In issuing orders for the election of the members of the Convention, William displayed a most politic attention to the spirit of the Constitution. He gave direction that no compulsion or acts of undue persuasion should be exercised for the return of candidates; no soldiers should be allowed to be present in the boroughs where the elections were proceeding; for, unlike James, William knew that he had the sense of the majority of the people with him. The same measure was adopted with regard to Scotland. There, no sooner had William arrived in England, than the people rose against James's Popish ministers, who were glad to flee or conceal themselves. Perth, the miserable renegade and tyrant, endeavoured to escape by sea; he was overtaken, brought ignominiously back, and flung into the prison of Kirkcaldy. The Papists were everywhere disarmed, the Popish chapels were attacked and ransacked. Holyrood House, which swarmed with Jesuits, and with their printing presses, was not exempt from this summary visitation; and bonfires were made of all sorts of Popish paraphernalia--crosses, books, images, and pictures. William now called together such Scottish noblemen and gentlemen as were in London, who adopted a resolution requesting him to call a Convention of the Estates of Scotland, to meet on the 14th of March, and in the meantime to take on himself the same executive authority as in England. William was, therefore, the elected ruler of the whole kingdom for the time. This power he proceeded to exercise with a prudence and wisdom which were in striking contrast to the antagonism of James. All parties and religions were protected as subjects; Feversham was released, and the administration of justice proceeded with a sense of firmness and personal security which gave general confidence.

On the 22nd of January, 1689, the Convention met. The Lords again chose Halifax as Speaker, the Commons, Powle. The Catholic lords had not been summoned, and were not there. In the Lords, Bishop Sherlock and a small knot of Tories were for recalling James, and attempting the impossible thing of binding him to the Constitution; another party, of which Sancroft was known to be the head, though he had not the courage to go there and advocate it, were for a regency; whilst Danby contended for proclaiming the Princess Mary in her own right; and the Whigs were for nominating William as an elective prince. In the Commons, similar parties appeared; but the great majority were for declaring the throne vacant, and, on the 28th, they passed a resolution to that effect, and the next day another, that no Popish king could possess the throne. These carried up to the Lords were, after a debate of two days, also adopted, but only by small majorities.

James now sent a letter to each House, declaring that he had not abdicated, but had been compelled to withdraw by necessity; and he offered to return and redress every grievance. Both Houses refused to receive the letters; but in both the question as to who should be the successor to the throne was violently debated. Lord Lovelace and William Killigrew presented a petition to the Commons, demanding that the crown should be given to the Prince and Princess of Orange jointly. A member asked if the petition were signed, and Lovelace replied "No," but added that he would soon procure signatures enough. In fact, there were noisy crowds about the House; and Lovelace was suspected of having brought the mob from the City to intimidate the opponents. His proceedings were strongly protested against, and William himself sent for him and expressed his disapprobation of bringing any such influence to force the deliberations of the Convention. The Earl of Devonshire then gathered a meeting of the advocates of the prince and princess at his house, where the question was discussed, and where Halifax concluded for William and Danby for Mary. To obtain, if possible, some idea of the leaning of William, who had preserved the most profound silence during the debates, Danby put the question to a friend and countryman of William's present what was the real wish of William. He replied that it was not for him to say, but that, if he must give an opinion, he did not believe that the prince would consent to be gentleman-usher to his wife. This opened the eyes of Danby, who said, "Then you all know enough, and I far too much." In fact, blind must all have been who had studied the character of William not to have seen from the first that he came there to be king, and that on equal terms at least with his wife. The man who had for years brooded in jealous secrecy over the idea that his wife would one day be raised over his own head by her claim on the British crown, was not likely to accept less than an equal throne with her.

Whilst this question was still agitating both Houses, Mary herself settled it by a letter to Danby, in which she thanked him for his zeal in her behalf; she declared that she was the wife of William, and had long resolved, if the throne fell to her, to surrender her power, by consent of Parliament, into his hands. This was decisive, and the enemies of William had only the hope left that the Princess Anne might protest against William, and insist on the precedence of her rights and those of her issue. But Anne had long been perfectly accordant with William and Mary, and declared herself entirely willing that William should hold the throne for his life.

Mary and Anne having spoken out, William now sent for Halifax, Danby, Shrewsbury, and the other leaders, and told them that, having come for the good of the nation, he had thought it right to leave the nation to settle its election of a ruler, and that he had still no desire to interfere, except to clear their way so far as he himself was concerned. He wished therefore to say that, if they decided to appoint a regent, he declined to be that man. On the other hand, if they preferred placing the princess, his wife, on the throne, he had nothing to object; but if they offered to give him during his life the nominal title of king, he could not accept it; that no man respected or esteemed the princess more than he did, but that he could never consent to be tied to the apronstrings of any woman, even the very highest and best of her sex; that if they chose to offer him the crown for life, he would freely accept it; if not, he would return cheerfully to his own country, having done that which he had promised. He added that he thought, in any case, the rights of Anne and her issue should be carefully protected.