No More Learning

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 party; "He was the most universal villain that
ever I knew. " [480] Wharton's political adversaries thirsted for
his blood, and repeatedly tried to shed 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 ever
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 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. [481]

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 a
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 eminent were two great Herefordshire squires, Robert Harley
and Paul Foley.

The space which Robert Harley fills in the history of three 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 of 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
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. [482]

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; 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.

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. [483]

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. [484] 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 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 law 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; but they were not of a scandalous kind.
He was not to be 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 was 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 gravity
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 what 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 world. This character he long supported with
that cunning which is frequently found in company with ambitious and
unquiet mediocrity. He constantly had, even with his best friends, an
air of mystery and reserve which seemed to indicate that he knew some
momentous secret, and that his mind was labouring with some vast design.
In this way he got and long kept a high reputation 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. [485]

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. [486]

Of Paul Foley we know comparatively little. His history, 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 nothing, had created a noble estate by ironworks,
and who was 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 be,
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 was so much afraid of
being thought to fawn that he was always growling.

Another convert ought to be mentioned. Howe, 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 their Tory votes by arguments grounded on Whig
principles. [487]

From this view of the state of parties in the House of Commons, it
seems clear that Sunderland had good reason for 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
was 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 slave 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 last campaign, he said, she had, on
every point, had a superiority 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.
[488]

The Commons at their next sitting took the King's speech into
consideration. The miscarriage of the Smyrna fleet was the chief subject
of 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 Whigs. 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. "Would 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 cause of the disaster in the Bay of
Lagos. [489] 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 Committee 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. [490]

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 was 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. [491] 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 and sixty-one. Another
attack was made a few days later with 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 tellers for
the minority. [492]

In spite of this check the advantage was decidedly with the Whigs;
The Tories who were at the head of the naval administration 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.

His elevation made it necessary that Nottingham should 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. He laid out all his gains in purchasing land. He
heard, he 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. [493]

During some weeks the seals which Nottingham had delivered up remained
in the royal closet. To dispose of them 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. [494] By degrees the virtues and charms of Mary conquered
the first place in her husband's affection. But he still, in difficult
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 Russell, a conscience, a conscience which
indeed too often failed to restrain him from doing wrong, but which
never failed to punish him. [495]

In consequence 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 the Parliament 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 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 their 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. With 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 owners. The indignation in the City was
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 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 friends 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. [496]

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. [497]

This memorable vote settled the most important of the constitutional
questions which had been left unsettled by the 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, servant of the
Company and the independent merchant waged war on each other, accused
each other of piracy, and tried by every artifice to exasperate the
Mogul government against each other. [498]

The three great constitutional questions of the preceding 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. [499]

The fate of the Triennial Bill confounded all the calculations of the
best informed politicians of that time, and may therefore well seem
extraordinary to us. During the recess, that bill had been described in
numerous pamphlets, written for the most 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. [500] Some eager Whigs flattered
themselves that their defeat was the effect of a surprise, and might be
retrieved. Within three days, therefore, 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 parliaments 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 was 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 bitter
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 bill was rejected by a hundred and
ninety-seven votes to a hundred and twenty-seven. [501]

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 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 as 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 leading Tories by surprise. When the Clerk had proclaimed that the
King and Queen would consider of the bill touching free and impartial
proceedings in 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 excitement 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 Kong 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 whom 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, was 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 then 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 committee was appointed to draw up the Representation.

Another night passed; and, when the House met again, it appeared that
the storm had greatly subsided. The malignant joy and the wild hopes
which 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, but were
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 nonjuror 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. [502]

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 member of the House
of Commons obtained 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 who had once been thriving burghers of Heidelberg or Mannheim,
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 asylum; nor could it be doubted that 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 who would, no
doubt, be as ready to sign the Declaration against Transubstantiation
in England as to trample on the 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
Frieslanders. 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 coarseminded 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.
[503] He now concluded a savage invective by desiring that the
Serjeant at Arms would open the doors, in order that the odious roll of
parchment, which was nothing less than a surrender of the birthright
of the English people, might be treated with proper contumely. "Let us
first," he 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 carried by a
hundred and sixty-three votes to a hundred and twenty-eight. [504] But
the minority was 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 indignation and disgust, as cowed even the
impudent and savage 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. [505]

Meanwhile the Commons were busied with financial questions of grave
importance. The estimates for the year 1694 were enormous. The King
proposed to add to the regular army, already the greatest regular army
that England had ever supported, four regiments of dragoons, eight of
horse, and twenty-five of infantry. The whole number of men, officers
included, would thus be increased to about ninety-four thousand. [506]
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, Foley 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. [507]

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 1694. [508]

The Commons then proceeded to consider the Ways and Means. The land
tax was renewed at four shillings in the pound; and by this simple but
powerful machinery about two millions were raised with certainty and
despatch. [509] A poll tax was imposed. [510] 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. [511] 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. [512]
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 was 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 was to be
determined by lot. The arrangements for the drawing of the tickets were
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
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. [513]

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.