No More Learning

kill
the king! I will never suffer them. ' That Lord Grey, with an oath,
also observed upon it, that if they made such an attempt, they could
not fail. " Ramsey charged Lord Grey with arguing with Ferguson, on the
project of the rising at Taunton. Grey, on the first discovery of this
conspiracy, was arrested, but, filling the officers drunk, he escaped
in a boat, and fled into Holland. He was afterwards very active in
pushing on Monmouth to his desperate expedition in 1685. He landed with
the duke at Lyme, and held the rank of general of horse in his army.
Like many other politicians, his lordship proved totally devoid of
that courage in executing bold plans, which he displayed in forming or
abetting them. At the first skirmish at Bridport he ran away, although
the troops he commanded did not follow his example, but actually
gained a victory, while he returned on the gallop to announce a total
defeat. Monmouth, much shocked, asked Colonel Mathews what he should do
with him? who answered, he believed there was not another general in
Europe would have asked such a question. Lord Grey, however, fatally
for Monmouth, continued in his trust, and commanded the horse at the
battle of Sedgemore. There he behaved like a poltroon as formerly, fled
with the whole cavalry, and left the foot, who behaved most gallantly,
to be cut to pieces by the horse of King James, who, without amusing
themselves with pursuit, wheeled, and fell upon the rear of the hardy
western peasants. So infamous was Grey's conduct, that many writers at
the time, thinking mere cowardice insufficient to account for it, have
surmised, some, that he was employed by the king to decoy Monmouth to
his destruction; and others, that jealousy of the domestic injury he
had received from the duke, induced him to betray the army. [322] This
caitiff peer was taken in the disguise of a shepherd, near Holt Lodge,
in Dorsetshire; and confessed, that "since his landing in England, he
had never enjoyed a quiet meal, or a night's repose. " He was conveyed
to London, and would probably have been executed, had it not been
discovered, that his estate, which had been given to Lord Rochester,
was so strictly entailed, that nothing could be got by his death. He,
therefore, by the liberal distribution, it is said, of large sums of
money, received a pardon from the king, and appeared as a witness on
the trial of Lord Delamere; and was ready to do so on that of Hampden;
yet he is supposed to have kept some secrets with respect to the
politics of the Prince of Orange, in reward of which, he was raised to
the rank of an Earl after the Revolution. --_Dalrymple's Memoirs_, Vol.
I. p. 185.

Notwithstanding the attribute which Dryden has ascribed to Lord Grey in
this poem, he afterwards proved a man of unprincipled gallantry; and
23d of November, 1682, was tried in the King's Bench for debauching
lady Henrietta Berkeley, daughter of the Earl of Berkeley, to whose
sister, lady Mary, he was himself married. See _State Trials_, Vol.
III. p. 519.


Note XXI

_And canting Nadab let oblivion damn,
Who made new porridge for the paschal lamb. _--P. 234.

Lord Howard of Escricke, although an abandoned debauchee, made
occasional pretensions to piety. He was an intimate of Shaftesbury and
of Monmouth, but detested by Russel on account of the infamy of his
character. Plots, counter-plots, and sham-plots, were at this time
wrought like mine and countermine by each party, under the other's
vantage-ground. One Fitzharris had written a virulent libel against
the court party, which he probably intended to father upon the whigs;
but being seized by Sir William Waller, he changed his note, and
averred, that he had been employed by the court to write this libel,
and to fix it upon the exclusionists; and to this probable story
he added, _ex mera gratia_, a new account of the old Popish Plot.
The court resolved to make an example of Fitzharris; they tried and
convicted him of treason, for the libel fell nothing short of it. When
condemned, finding his sole resource in the mercy of the crown, he
retracted his evidence against the court, and affirmed, that Treby,
the recorder, and Bethel and Cornish, the two sheriffs, had induced
him to forge that accusation; and that Lord Howard was the person who
drew up instructions, pointing out to him what he was to swear, and
urging him so to manage his evidence, as to criminate the Queen and
the Duke of York. The confession of Fitzharris did not save his life,
although he adhered to it upon the scaffold. Lord Howard, as involved
in this criminal intrigue, was sent to the Tower, where he uttered and
published a canting declaration, asserting his innocence, upon the
truth of which he received the sacrament. He is said, however, to have
taken the communion in _lamb's wool_, (_i. e. _ ale poured on roasted
apples and sugar,) to which profanation Dryden alludes, with too much
levity, in the second line above quoted. The circumstance is also
mentioned in "Absalom's IX Worthies:"

Then prophane Nadab, that hates all sacred things,
And on that score abominateth kings;
With Mahomet wine he damneth, with intent
To erect his Paschal-lamb's-wool-sacrament.

Lord Howard was at length set at liberty from the Tower, upon finding
bail, when he engaged under Shaftesbury, and ran into all the excesses
of the party. Being deeply involved in the Rye-house Plot, he fled upon
the discovery of that affair, and was detected in his shirt, covered
with soot, in a chimney; a sordid place of concealment, which well
suited the spirit of the man. A tory ballad-maker has the following
strain of prophetic exultation on Howard's commitment:

Next valiant and noble Lord Howard,
That formerly dealt in lambs-wool;
Who knowing what it is to be towered,
By impeaching may fill the jails full.
_The Conspiracy, or the Discovery of the Fanatic Plot. _

Accustomed to tamper with evidence, Howard did not hesitate to
contaminate the noblest name in England, by practising the meannesses
and villainies he had taught to others. For the sake of his shameful
life, he bore witness against Russel and Sidney to all he knew, and
probably to a great deal more. The former had always hated and despised
Howard, and had only been induced to tolerate his company by the
persuasions of Essex: The recollection, that, by introducing his best
friend to the contagion of such company, he had, in fact, prepared
his ruin, was one of the reasons assigned for that unfortunate peer's
remorse and suicide.


Note XXII.

_Not bull-faced Jonas, who could statutes draw
To mean rebellion, and make treason law. _--P. 234.

Sir William Jones was an excellent lawyer, and, in his private
character, an upright, worthy, and virtuous man; in his religion he
had some tendency to nonconformity, and his political principles were
of the popular cast. He was the king's attorney-general, and as such
conducted all the prosecutions against those concerned in the Popish
plot. He was, or affected to be, so deeply infected by the epidemic
terror excited by this supposed conspiracy, that he had all his billets
removed from his cellar, lest the Papists should throw in fire-balls,
and set his house on fire. He closed, nevertheless, with the court,
in an attempt to prohibit coffee-houses, on account of the facility
which they afforded in propagating faction and scandal; for this, he
was threatened by the country party with an impeachment in parliament.
Sir William Jones shortly after resigned his office under government,
and went into open opposition. He distinguished himself particularly,
by supporting the bill of exclusion, and by a violent speech in the
Oxford parliament, on the subject of the clerk's mislaying the Bill
for repealing the 35th of Elizabeth, an act against dissenters. He was
on his legs, as the phrase is, in the same house, arguing vehemently
on the subject of Fitzharris, when the Black Rod knocked at the door,
to announce the sudden and unexpected dissolution of the parliament.
A well written pamphlet, entitled, "Advice to Grand Juries," which
appeared on the eve of the presentment against Shaftesbury, is said to
have had some effect in producing the ignoramus verdict, on that bill.

Sir William Jones is said to have regretted the share he took in the
prosecutions on account of the plot; which is extremely probable, as
his excellent talents, and sound legal principles, could not fail, when
clamour and alarm were over, to teach him how far he had been misled.
His anxiety for the situation of the country is supposed to have
accelerated his death, which took place in 1682, at Mr Hampden's house,
in Buckingham-shire.


Note XXIII.

_Shimei, whose youth did early promise bring
Of zeal to God, and hatred to his king. _--P. 235.

Slingsby Bethel was son of Sir Walter Bethel, knight, by Mary, daughter
of Sir Henry Slingsby of Scriven, in Yorkshire, and sister to Sir
Henry Slingsby, a steady loyalist, who was condemned by Cromwell's
high court of justice, and beheaded on Towerhill in 1655. Bethel
was early attached to the fanatical interest, both by religious and
political tenets; he was even a member of the Committee of Safety. But
he was a staunch republican, and no friend to the Protector; being,
it is believed, the author of that famous treatise, entitled "The
World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell. " He was elected sheriff, with
Cornish, on Midsummer-day 1680, and the choice was, in many respects,
disadvantageous to the popular party. In the first place, they were
both Independents; and, before taking upon them their offices, they
conformed, and took the sacrament according to the church of England's
ritual. It was believed, that nothing but the necessity of qualifying
themselves to serve their party in this office, could have prevailed
on them to have done so, and this gave advantages against their whole
party. Besides, Cornish was a downright, plain-spoken republican,
and Bethel had expressed himself very bluntly in justification of
the execution of Charles I. ; and was, therefore, obnoxious to every
slur which the royalists could bring against him, as ill-disposed to
monarchy. Further still, Bethel's extreme and sordid meanness gave
great disgust to the citizens, who were accustomed to consider the
exercise of a splendid and ostentatious hospitality as the principal
part of a sheriff's duty. He kept no table, lived in a chop-house, and,
long afterwards, whoever neglected to entertain during his shrievalty,
was said to "_Bethel_ the city. " Bethel is mentioned among the subjects
of deprecation in "The Loyal Litany:"

From serving great Charles, as his father before;
And disinheriting York, without why or wherefore;
And from such as Absalom has been, or more;
Libera nos, &c.

From Vulcan's treasons, late forged by the fan;
From starving of mice to be parliament-man;
From his copper face, that out-face all things can;
Libera nos, &c.

These two sheriffs first set the example of packing juries, when
persons were to be tried for party offences; for they took the task
of settling the pannels for juries out of the Compters into their
own hands, and left the secondaries of the Compters, who had usually
discharged that duty, only to return the lists, thus previously
made up. In Middlesex, they had the assistance of Goodenough, the
under-sheriff, a bustling and active partizan, who very narrowly
escaped being hanged for the Rye-house Plot. By this selection of
jurymen, the sheriffs insured a certainty of casting such bills as
might be presented to the Grand Jury against any of their partizans.
This practice was so openly avowed, that Settle has ventured to make it
a subject of eulogy:

Next Hethriel write Baal's watchful foe, and late
Jerusalem's protecting magistrate;
Who, when false jurors were to frenzy charmed,
And, against innocence, even tribunals armed,
Saw depraved justice ope her ravenous maw,
And timely broke her canine teeth of law.

The Earl of Shaftesbury himself reaped the advantage of this
manœuvre; which, from the technical word employed in the return of
these bills, was called _Ignoramus_. Stephen Colledge, the Protestant
joiner, also experienced the benefit of a packed jury, though concerned
in all the seditious practices of the time. He was afterwards tried,
condemned, and executed at Oxford, where he was out of the magic
circle of the sheriff's protection; and, though I believe the man
deserved to die, he certainly at last met with hard measure. His
death was supposed to have broke the talisman of Ignoramus, and was
considered as a triumph by the Tories, who, for a long time, had
been unable to persuade a jury to find for the king. [323] When Lord
Stafford was most unjustly condemned, Bethel and his brother sheriff
affected a barbarous scruple, whether the king was entitled to commute
the statutory punishment of high treason into simple decapitation.
The House of Commons ordered that the king's writ be obeyed. This
hard-hearted conduct was an indulgence of their republican humour.
Shortly after, Mr Bethel was found guilty of a riot and assault upon
one of the king's watermen at the election of members of parliament for
Southwark, 5th October, 1681. This person being active in the poll,
Mr Bethel caned him, and told him he would have his coat (the king's
livery) stripped over his ears. For this he was fined five merks.
Bethel, notwithstanding his violence, was so fortunate as to escape
the business of the Rye-house Plot. His brother sheriff, Cornish, was
not so fortunate: He was a plain republican, and highly esteemed by
Lord Russell, for having treated with indifference the apprehension of
the Tower firing on the city, saying, they could only demolish a few
chimneys. He was executed as an accomplice in the Rye-house conspiracy,
upon the evidence of that very Goodenough, who had been his tool in
packing the illegal juries; so that his death seemed a retribution
for dishonouring and perverting the course of justice. James II. was
afterwards satisfied that Cornish had been unjustly executed, and
restored his estate to his family.


Note XXIV.

_Yet Corah, thou shalt from oblivion pass;
Erect thyself, thou monumental brass,
High as the serpent of thy metal made,
While nations stand secure beneath thy shade! _--P. 236.

Titus Oates, once called and believed the Saviour of his country, was
one of the most infamous villains whom history is obliged to record. He
was the son of an anabaptist ribbon-weaver, received a tolerably good
education, and, having taken orders, was preferred to a small vicarage
in Kent. Here the future protestant witness was guilty of various
irregularities, for which he was at length silenced by the bishop, and
by the Duke of Norfolk deprived of his qualification as chaplain. At
this pinching emergency he became a papist, either for bread, or, as
he afterwards boasted, for the purpose of insinuating himself into the
secrets of the Jesuits, and betraying them. [324]

The Jesuits setting little store by their proselyte, whose talents
lay only in cunning and impudence, he skulked about St Omers and
other foreign seminaries in a miserable condition. Undoubtedly he had
then the opportunity of acquiring that list of names of the order of
Jesus with which he graced his plot, and might perhaps hear something
generally of the plans, which these intriguing churchmen hoped to
carry through in England by means of the Duke of York. Of these,
however, he must have had a very imperfect suspicion; for the scheme
which is displayed in the letters of Coleman, the duke's secretary,
does not at all quadrate with the doctor's pretended discovery. When
confronted with Coleman, he did not even know him personally. When the
king asked him about the personal appearance of Don John of Austria,
he described him, at a venture, as a tall thin black man, being the
usual Spanish figure and complexion; but, unfortunately, he was little,
fair, and fat. In a word, it was impossible such a villain could have
obtained a moment's credit, but for the discovery of Coleman's actual
intrigues, the furious temper of the times, and the mysterious death
of Sir Edmondbury Godfrey. On that last occasion he displayed much
dexterity. There was some difficulty in managing the evidence, whether
to bring the assassination to the conspiracy, or the conspiracy to the
assassination; but Oates contrived the matter with such ingenuity,
that the murder became a proof, and the plot became a proof of the
murder, to the universal conviction of the public. As to Oates' other
qualities, he was, like every renegade, a licentious scoffer at
religion, and, in his manners, addicted, it is said, to the most foul
and unnatural debaucheries. When we consider his acts and monuments, it
is almost impossible to believe, how so base a tool should have ever
obtained credit and opportunity to do such mighty mischief. [325]

As for his family, to which Dryden alludes a little below, "he would
needs," says North, "be descended of some ancient and worshipful stock;
but there were not so many noble families strove for him, as there were
cities strove for the _parentele_ of Homer. However, the heralds were
sent for, to make out his pedigree, and give him a blazon. They were
posed at the first of these, but they made good the blazon for him
in a trice, and delivered it _authenticamente_, and it was engraved
on his table and other plate; for he was rich, set up for a solemn
housekeeper, and lived up to his quality. "[326]

Dryden compares Oates to the brazen serpent raised up in the
wilderness, by looking on which, the Israelites were cured of the bites
of the fiery snakes. Sprat had applied the same simile, in a favourable
sense, to Oliver Cromwell:

Thou, as once the healing serpent rose,
Was lifted up, not for thyself, but us.


Note XXV.

_Sunk were his eyes, his voice was harsh and loud;
Sure signs he neither choleric was, nor proud:
His long chin proved his wit; his saint-like grace
A church vermilion, and a Moses' face. _--P. 236.

North has left us some specimens of Oates' peculiar mode of
pronounciation. Bedloe, his brother-witness in the plot, had been
taken ill at Bristol, and, on his death-bed, held some conference with
the Lord Chief-Justice North, then upon a circuit, who took down his
examination, concerning which numerous reports went forth. It proved,
however, to be the same story he had formerly told. Even Dr Oates
himself was disappointed; and was heard to say aloud, as the Lord
Chief-Justice passed through the court on a council-day, at all which
times he was a diligent attendant, "Maay Laird Chaife-Jaistaice, whay
this baisness of Baidlaw caims to naithaing. " But his Lordship walked
on without attending to his discourse. [327]

In personal appearance North informs us, that "he was a low man, of
an ill-cut very short neck; and his visage and features were most
particular. His mouth was the centre of his face, and a compass there
would sweep his nose, forehead, and chin, within the perimeter. _Cave
quos Deus ipse notavit. _"[328] An engraving of the doctor, now before
me, bears witness to this last peculiarity, and does justice to the
cherubic plenitude of countenance and chin mentioned in the text. It
is drawn and engraved by Richard White, and bears to be "the true
originall, taken from the life, done for Henry Brome and Richard
Chiswel; all others are counterfeit. "

As the doctor's portrait is not now quite so common as when the
lady, mentioned in the Spectator, wore it upon her fan, gloves, and
handkerchief, the curious reader may be pleased to be informed, that
this "true original" is prefixed to "The Witch of Endor, or the
Witchcrafts of the Roman Jezebel, by Titus Oates, D. D. folio 1679. "
It is dedicated to the Earl of Shaftesbury, &c. ; "the Publisher's
affectionate good friend, and singular good Lord. "


Note XXVI.

_And gave him his rabinical degree,
Unknown to foreign university. _--P. 237.

Oates pretended to have taken his doctor's degree at Salamanca, where
it is shrewdly suspected he never was; at least where he certainly
never took orders. The Tory libels of the time contain innumerable
girds concerning this degree. There is, in the Luttrel Collection,
"An Address from Salamanca to her (unknown) offspring, Dr T. O. "
Dryden often alludes to the circumstance; thus, in the epilogue to
"Mithridates," acted 1681-2,

Shall we take orders? that will parts require;
Our colleges give no degrees for hire. --
Would Salamanca were a little nigher!


Note XXVII.

_And Corah might for Agag's murder call,
In terms as coarse as Samuel used to Saul. _--P. 237.

In the first book of Samuel, chap. xv. , the reader will find the
reproaches with which that prophet loaded Saul, for sparing, contrary
to God's commandment, Agag, king of the Amalekites; concluding with the
awful denunciation, that for his disobedience the Lord had rejected him
from being king over Israel.

Agag's murder is to be understood of the mysterious death of Sir
Edmondbury Godfrey. This gentleman was an active justice of peace, and
had been knighted by Charles II. , on account of his exertions during
the fire of London. In other respects, he was low-spirited, and rather
a timorous man, and, in the exercise of his office, favourable to
the Catholics. Oates, finding the information he had lodged with the
ministers concerning the Popish plot rather less ardently listened
to than he expected, chose to utter before this magistrate a full
declaration on the subject upon oath. His intention was probably
to make the matter as public as possible. Godfrey expressed much
unwillingness to have any thing to do with the matter at all; and
when he had heard the story out, expressed to his friends his fear
that he should have no thanks for his pains, but would probably be
the first martyr. This strange, and one would think absurd, boding
proved too true; after having been missing for several days, this
unfortunate man was found lying in a ditch, near Primrose-hill. There
were marks of strangling round his neck; and although his own sword
was thrust through his body, yet it turned out to have been done after
death. His money and rings were safe; robbery was therefore out of the
question. This murder ever will remain among the riddles of history.
Three opinions have been entertained: 1st, North does not hesitate to
affirm, that the contrivers and abettors of the plot murdered this poor
man, to give some colour to the story of the bloody machinations of
the Papists: But this seems too strange and desperate a course to be
imputed to the opposition party at large without some positive proof;
and as for Oates and his brother witnesses, (whom we will not injure
by suspecting them capable of remorseful, or compunctious visitings,)
their steps were, at this time, too much the object of observation to
admit of their executing so bloody a plan with the necessary degree of
secrecy. 2d, It has been thought that Godfrey, a man of a melancholy
temperament, whose dark and cloudy spirit had been just agitated by a
strange tale of blood and mystery, may have been wrought up to take
that time to commit suicide. It is even positively asserted, that he
hanged himself at home, and that his brothers conveyed the body to the
place where it was found, to avoid the shame and other consequences
of his fate becoming public. There is something plausible in this
account; but it is entirely unsupported by proof of any kind. 3d, The
grand solution, and indeed the only one which would go down at the
time, was, that Godfrey had fallen by the papists. There were probably
enough of fanatics in that sect to have executed such a deed, had
it been of consequence to the progress of their religion: But there
appears no adequate motive for taking off Godfrey, who had merely taken
down a deposition which he could not refuse to receive, and who had
besides endeavoured to serve the accused parties, by transmitting to
Coleman an account of the affidavit; while Oates and his companions,
the depositaries of the supposed secret, and whose death would stifle
the plot for ever, were suffered to walk about, even unattempted.
Positive evidence was however obtained, to silence all hypothetical
reasoning on the subject. One Bedlow, a very infamous character, amid
a thousand dreadful stories of fires raised by the Jesuits from 1666
downwards, charged the Catholics, and particularly Miles Prance, a
silver-smith, with the death of Godfrey[329]. This man was imprisoned
in Newgate; and, after much communing with Shaftesbury and Buckingham,
in which, it is said, neither threats, promises, nor actual tortures
were spared, confessed himself an accomplice in the murder. [330] He
retracted this confession before the privy-council; but being remanded
to prison, new terrors, promises, and sufferings, induced him to
retract that retractation. His story was a tissue of improbabilities;
and he and Bedlow, when adduced as evidence on the trial of three poor
men, whom they charged with strangling Godfrey, concealing the body
in Somerset-House, and afterwards disposing of it on Primrose-hill,
contradicted each other, and contradicted themselves. All was in vain:
the three innocent victims of perjury were condemned and executed, and
the witnesses promoted and rewarded, not with money only, but, strange
to say, with universal respect and regard; although their merit,
supposing it to be real, was that of murderers and incendiaries, who
had turned evidence for the crown against their accomplices.

The outcry raised about Godfrey's murder at the time, and for long
after, gave the plot its surest foundation and support. When his
funeral rites were performed, the crowd was prodigious, and the papists
were sufficiently cautious to keep within doors, or some might have
been offered up as an oblation to the manes of Justice Godfrey. While
the clergyman preached the funeral sermon of the protestant victim, two
robust divines stood by him in the pulpit, lest, while rendering this
last duty to the murdered magistrate, he should _in facie ecclesiæ_
be murdered by the papists. At the formal pope-burnings of the party,
Sir Edmondbury, supported on a steed by his murderers, was a principal
figure in the procession, preceded by a harbinger, who rung a bell,
and admonished the people to remember Justice Godfrey. In short, this
unfortunate gentleman's death, however it came about, continued long to
be the watch-word and war-cry of those, who called themselves the true
protestant party.


Note XXVIII.

_The crowd, that still believe their kings oppress,
With lifted hands their young Messiah bless;
Who now begins his progress to ordain,
With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train. _--P. 239.

"In August, 1680, the Duke of Monmouth went into the country to divert
himself, visiting several gentlemen in the west of England, by whom
he was received and entertained with a gallantry suitable to the
greatness of his birth, and the relation he stood in to his majesty;
incredible numbers of people flocking from all the adjacent parts
to see this great champion of the English nation, who had been so
successful against both the Dutch, French, and Scots. He went first
into Wiltshire, and was pleased to honour the worthy esquire Thynne
with his company for some days. From thence he went to Mr Speak's,
in Somersetshire, in which progress he was caressed with the joyful
acclamations of the country people, who came from all parts; twenty
miles about the lanes and hedges being every where lined with men,
women, and children, who, with incessant shouts, cried, "God bless King
Charles and the Protestant Duke! " In some towns and parishes which he
passed through, they strewed the streets and highways where he was to
pass with herbs and flowers, especially at Ilchester and Pithyton;
others presenting him with bottles of wine. When he came within ten
miles of Mr Speak's, he was met by two thousand persons on horseback,
whose numbers still increased as they drew nearer to Mr Speak's, and
when they arrived there, they were reputed to be twenty thousand;
wherefore they were forced to break down several pearch of his park
pales to enlarge their passage to the house, where his grace and all
this numerous company were entertained and treated, in an extraordinary
manner.

"On the 26th, he went to Brompton; being met on the road by a great
company of gentry and country people, who conducted him to Sir J.
Sydenham's, where he was entertained at a noble and splendid dinner.
The next day he went to Barrington, where he was pleased to honour Mr
William Stroud with his company at dinner; the entertainment being
nothing inferior to what his Grace had met with in all other places.
After dinner he went to Chard, where he arrived about five in the
afternoon, attended with a train of five thousand horsemen; and there
he was met and welcomed by a crowd of men, women, and children, who
had not a mute among them, but were almost all of them made deaf by
their own shouts and acclamations of joy. His Grace lay there that
night, being treated at a very splendid supper; he lodged at the
house of M. Prideaux.
[331] The next day, having been entertained at a
sumptuous dinner, he rid to Ilminster, and in the afternoon he went
to Whitelackindon, where he lay that night; and the day following,
which was Sunday, his grace observed the Sabbath with a religious
care, and went to Ilminster church. On the 30th, he went to Calliton,
where he was entertained by Sir Walter Young. The next day he went to
Overton, where he was entertained, and lodged by Mr Dukes. From thence
he went to Exeter, and was met by the citizens and the people of all
the adjacent parts, to the number of twenty thousand persons; but that
which was more remarkable, was the appearance of a brave company of
brisk, stout young men, all clothed in linen waistcoats and drawers,
white, and harmless, having not so much as a stick in their hands; they
were in number about nine hundred or a thousand; they went three miles
out of the city to meet his Grace, where they were drawn up all on a
little hill, and divided into two parts, in which order they attended
the Duke's coming, who rid up first between them, and then round each
company; after which they united, and went hand in hand in order
before, where he was no sooner arrived, but a universal shout from all
parts echoed forth his welcome; the numerous concourse of people, the
incredible and amazing acclamations, and the universal joy which then
filled the whole city, far exceeding my pen to describe. [332]

"From thence he returned to Mr Speake's, where the whole country
flocked again to see and admire him, not being enough satisfied with
their former sight. From thence he went the next day to Mr Harvie's,
near Yeovil, where he dined, and in the afternoon he rid to Esquire
Thynne's; people flocking from all the towns and villages thereabout
to Howden-hill, where they attended the Duke's coming; and after
they had, by loud acclamations, proclaimed his welcome amongst them,
and expressed their joy for his safe return, they took their leave
of him, returning his Grace their humble and hearty thanks for that
kind visit, and for his having condescended to accept of their plain,
but true-hearted entertainment. From thence he returned to London,
wonderfully pleased with the noble and generous entertainment he met
with at the several places where he came; every place striving to
out-vye each other. "[333]

At Tunbridge Wells. "Abundance of country people rudely crowded, after
their rustic manner, to see the eldest son of their king and sovereign,
every one extolling him to the skies, crying to one another, 'O what
a brave man he is! ' Some admired the beauty and make of his person;
some the majesty and port of his carriage; and others, who had seen
the king, the exact resemblance he bare to his majesty; affirming,
they never, in all their lives, saw a son resemble a father more than
the duke did the king; but all admired his affable and courteous
disposition. "[334]

These assemblies were chiefly made under pretence of cock-matches,
horse-races, and other popular amusements; pretexts the more dangerous,
as they were the well-known signals of rendezvous at which the
cavaliers were wont to concert their plots against Cromwell. See the
tract called "Killing no Murder. " Foot races, wrestling matches, and
other country pastimes, were also resorted to as an ostensible cause
of meeting. These gave Monmouth an opportunity to display his personal
agility and liberality. He wrestled, he ran, and carried off the prize,
in both exercises; he then ran in his boots against the peasants in
their shoes, and still obtained the victory. The prizes which he gained
were freely distributed among his competitors. All these arts of
popularity became the derision of his enemies, when he was forced into
exile; as, for example, in the following verses:

Monmouth, for wit, who was able
To make to a crown a pretence;
The head and the hope of the rabble,
A loyal and politic prince:
But now he's gone into Holland
To be a king of no land,
Or else must be monarch of Poland;
Was ever son so loyal as he?
Lord Gray, and Armstrong the bully,
That prudent and politic knight,
Who made of his grace such a cully,
Together have taken their flight,
Is this your races, horse-matches,
His grace's swift dispatches,
From shire to shire,
Under the hatches?
Now above deck you dare not appear.
_The Conspiracy, or the Discovery of the Fanatic Plot. _

These ostentatious progresses were devised by Shaftesbury, as a mode
of manifesting the strength of Monmouth's party, and increasing his
partizans and popularity. Among the higher ranks, they carried an air
of defiance which rather hurt his cause; for reflecting and cautious
men were slow to join in what seemed to be a preliminary for civil war.
It was different with the lower orders, who, always biassed by what
is more immediately addressed to their eye-sight, were led by these
showy processions, and by the courtesy, activity, and fine presence
of Monmouth, to doat on him to an incredible degree. Not only did
the western peasantry, on his landing in 1685, crowd to join him in
multitudes beyond what he could arm, but their attachment survived even
his defeat and death; and they long believed, with fond credulity, that
another person had been executed in his stead, and that their beloved
protestant prince was still alive.

The arts of Absalom, in stealing the hearts of Israel from his father,
form an exact parallel to the language which Dryden puts in the mouth
of Monmouth.

"And it came to pass after this, that Absalom prepared him chariots and
horses, and fifty men to run before him. And Absalom rose up early, and
stood beside the way of the gate: and it was so, that when any man that
had a controversy came to the king for judgment, then Absalom called
unto him, and said, Of what city art thou? And he said, Thy servant
is one of the tribes of Israel. And Absalom said unto him, See, thy
matters are good and right; but there is no man deputed of the king
to hear thee. Absalom said moreover, Oh that I were made judge in the
land, that every man, which hath any suit or cause, might come unto me,
and I would do him justice! And it was so, that when any man came nigh
unto him to do him obeisance, he put forth his hand, and took him, and
kissed him. And on this manner did Absalom to all Israel, that came
to the king for judgment. So Absalom stole the hearts of the men of
Israel. " 2d Sam. chap. xv. v. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.


Note XXX.

_But hospitable treats did most commend
Wise Issachar, his western wealthy friend. _--P. 239.

Thomas Thynne, esquire, of Longleat-hall, called, from his great
wealth, _Tom of Ten Thousand_. He had been formerly a friend of
the Duke of York, but, upon some quarrel between them, he attached
himself warmly to Monmouth. Mr Thynne was one of those gentlemen,
who petitioned for the speedy meeting of parliament, after it was
prorogued in 1679, on account of the heat with which the house pursued
the Exclusion Bill. The king received the intimation very ill; told
Mr Thynne, he was surprised at persons of property countenancing such
proceedings, and that he wished they would mind their own affairs,
and leave him to attend to his. When Monmouth made his progress
through the west of England, as mentioned in the last note, Mr Thynne
received him at his country-seat with all the splendour and liberality
of ancient English hospitality. This gentleman's tragical fate is
well known. He was married to the Lady Ogle, sole heiress of the
Northumberland estate; but, his bride going abroad, the marriage was
never consummated. Count Konigsmark met the lady, fell in love with
her person, or with her fortune, and could see no better road to both
than by assassinating her husband. Accordingly, three foreigners, hired
by the count, or dependents upon him, waylaid Mr Thynne's carriage,
as it passed through Pall-Mall, and shot him with a blunderbuss, in
the manner represented on his tombstone in Westminster Abbey. [335]
The Duke of Monmouth had left the carriage about an hour before the
murder; and sir John Reresby received the thanks of the king for his
activity in apprehending the assassins, without which, suspicions
might have arisen that the attempt was intended against Monmouth by
the court party. [336] Monmouth himself remained all night with his
dying friend, and distinguished himself by his zeal and assiduity in
furthering the search after the murderers. At length, Count Konigsmark
was taken by Gibbons, one of Monmouth's attendants, who seized him, as
he was going on ship-board. When apprehended, Gibbons charged him with
the fact, and added, that he had like to have killed his master, the
Duke of Monmouth; to which the Count answered, "they would not have
killed _him_. " The three actual assassins were condemned to death;
but, by some foul play,[337] Konigsmark, who had employed them, and
who came over to England expressly to see that they executed their
bloody commission, was acquitted. Monmouth went to see these subaltern
villains executed. Stern, at the gallows, complained that he died for
a man's fortune whom he never spoke to, for a woman whom he never saw,
for a dead man whom he never had a view of. _True Narrative of the
Horrid Plot, &c. _ fol. 1679. p. 64. _State Trials_, Vol. II. p. 503.


Note XXXI.

_------Good King David's life,
Endangered by a brother and a wife. _--P. 239.

The accusations against York and the Queen were no part of Oate's
original plot. On the contrary, in the summary of his "True Narrative,"
he informs us, that the "Royal family of the Stuarts are condemned
to be cut off, root and branch, and namely, the King, Duke of York,
and Prince of Orange, because that family have not answered their
expectation, nor have they any hopes that any of them will comply fully
with this their bloody design, when fully discovered to them. " And on
the next page, it is again affirmed, that notwithstanding the Duke of
York's zeal for the Catholic religion, "they design to dispose of him
as is aforesaid. " But when the public belief in the plot had taken
root, and Shaftesbury had grafted upon it his doctrine of exclusion,
Oates, by degrees, charged the Duke, first with being the innocent and
blind tool of the Catholics whom they intended to succeed his brother,
though he knew nothing of their designs; and finally, with being at
the very depth of all the villainy, and the immediate author of the
Fire of London. As for the queen, her barrenness was a reason, for all
the exclusionists desiring she should be removed, that the king might
have a chance of legitimate issue, to the exclusion of the Duke of
York. Animated by a belief, that this would be agreeable to the king,
Oates had the boldness, at the bar of the House of Commons, to utter
these words, in his affected phraseology, "Aye, Taitus Oates, accause
Catherine, Quean of England, of haigh traison! " The grounds of his
accusation are stated in the trial of Wakeman, the queen's physician,
who, he alleged, was bribed with 15,000l to poison the king, in case he
should escape the poniard of a Jesuit, named Coniers, and the pistols
of Pickering and Groves. Oates then swore, that three Jesuits carried
him with them to Somerset-house, where they were summoned to attend the
Queen; that he remained in an anti-chamber when they were ushered into
her presence; that he heard a female voice say, she would assist Sir
George Wakeman in his project, and would no longer bear these repeated
violations of her bed. When the fathers came out, he desired to see
the queen, and when admitted into the anti-chamber, whence the female
voice had proceeded, he saw the queen, who smiled graciously on him,
and there was no other woman present. These impudent stories, with some
blunders into which the best-breathed witness may fall, saved Wakeman's
life.

The King immediately saw the tendency of this charge, and observed,
"They think I have a mind for a new wife; but for all that, I will not
see an innocent woman abused;" and certainly, had he given way to it,
the Queen would have been in great danger.


Note XXXII.

_In this short file Barzillai first appears,
Barzillai, crowned with honour and with years;
Long since the rising rebels he withstood,
In regions waste, beyond the Jordan's flood,_ &c.
P. 241.

James Butler, Duke, Marquis, and Earl of Ormond, Earl of Ossory and
Brecknock, &c. &c. was as illustrious for his talents, as for his rank,
and distinguished by virtues superior to both. In the difficult and
dangerous situation of Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, he had to maintain
the cause of Charles I. in that kingdom, with very slender means, at
once against the confederated Irish Catholics, and the parliamentary
forces, the more formidable, though less numerous, enemies of the
royal cause. In 1649, he was able, through consummate skill, both as
a politician and general, to boast that he had reduced almost all
Ireland under the royal authority, excepting the cities of Dublin
and Londonderry. But Cromwell's arrival, with 8000 disciplined and
veteran forces, effectually changed the scene. His first exploit was
the storm of Tredagh, or Drogheda, where the besiegers put the whole
garrison to the sword, and committed the most dreadful excesses of
barbarity. After this terrible example of severity, hardly any of
the royal garrisons could be prevailed on to make such a defence, as
might expose them to the same extremity. Wexford, and New Ross, both
very strong places, surrendered without a blow; all the forces under
Lord Inchiquin revolted to the side of the parliament; and, at length,
in 1650, Ormond saw himself under the necessity of abandoning the
kingdom, which he had so long and valiantly defended. From Ireland he
retreated to France, and accompanied King Charles during his exile.
He was much trusted by that prince; and was charged with the task
of withdrawing the Duke of Gloucester from the family of the queen
mother, Henrietta, who was making every possible attempt to induce
him to change his religion. This delicate commission he executed with
dexterity and success. He had afterwards the satisfaction to forward
a reconciliation between the king and his mother, who had been on bad
terms on account of the queen's imprudent interference with her son's
religious tenets. At the Restoration, the Marquis of Ormond, for such
was then his title, was liberally rewarded, in lands and honours,
for his steady attachment to the royal party. He was created Duke of
Ormond in Ireland, and appointed steward of the household, groom of
the stole, and privy counsellor for the three kingdoms. In 1661, he
was made Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. As the duke was a steady friend
of the great Clarendon, his services, and faithful zeal for the king's
real interests, did not prevent his sharing in the disgrace of the
chancellor. He had quarrelled with Lady Castlemaine, then the favourite
mistress, who gave vent to her rage in the most abusive reproaches,
and finally told the duke, she hoped to see him hanged; to which he
made the memorable reply, that, far from wishing her ladyship's days
shortened in return, his greatest desire was _to see her grow old_.
When Clarendon was banished, the prevailing party, and especially the
Duke of Buckingham, entertained a design of impeaching the Duke of
Ormond, and succeeded so far as to deprive him of the lieutenancy of
Ireland. The profligate Buckingham agitated a still darker project, and
is supposed to have hired the famous Blood to attempt the assassination
of his rival, in which the ruffian had nearly succeeded. When Blood
was afterwards taken in his attempt to steal the regalia, the king
being desirous to spare his life, sent to Ormond to intimate his wish,
that his grace would consent to the proposed pardon. Ormond nobly
answered, if his majesty could forgive him the stealing of his crown,
he might easily pardon the assault on his life. The gallant Earl of
Ossery,[338] who guessed whence the attempt originally proceeded,
seeing the Duke of Buckingham shortly afterwards in the presence,
charged him with being the author of the intended assassination; and
added, "if his father came to a violent end, he should be at no loss
to know the author, should consider Buckingham as the murderer, and
pistol him, if he stood behind the king's chair: this" he boldly added,
"I tell you in the king's presence, that you may be sure I shall keep
my word. " It does not appear that this spirited speech met either a
retort from Buckingham, or a check from the king. Although the Duke
of Ormond escaped the more open, as well as the more secret practices
of his enemies, he experienced much coldness from the king, partly
on account of his disliking the French intrigues, and partly because
he disdained to pay court to the royal mistresses. Yet he would not
throw up the staff, which he held as lord-steward of the household,
but continued his attendance on court with as much punctuality as if
in the highest favour. This mode of conduct greatly embarrassed the
good-natured, though unprincipled Charles, to whom Ormond's silent
and unreproachful attentions were the most cutting memento of his own
ingratitude. On one occasion, the king appeared so much confused,
that the Duke of Buckingham asked him, whether he had lost the Duke
of Ormond's favour, or Ormond had lost his, since, of the two, his
majesty seemed most out of countenance? --In this neglected situation,
the duke used good-humouredly to compare himself to an old neglected
rusty clock; "yet, even that," said he, "points right once in the
twelve hours, and so perhaps may I. " On another occasion, when Colonel
Cary Dillon pressed him for his interest with the king, and said, he
had no friend at court, save God and his grace,--"Alas! poor Cary,"
said the duke, "thou couldst not have two friends who have so little
influence there, and are so much neglected. " During all the king's
coldness, the duke never altered his political principles, although
Charles carried his estrangement to the pitch of not even speaking to
him. His opinion of Shaftesbury, and his party, may be learned from an
incident which happened during his disgrace at court. "The day that
the Earl of Shatesbury was declared lord-chancellor, the king broke
through his ordinary rule (of not addressing the duke) and either in
doubt about the wisdom of the step he had taken, or out of curiosity
to know the Duke of Ormond's sentiments of it, went up to him, and,
taking him aside to a window, asked what he thought of his giving the
seals to Lord Shaftesbury, whether he had done prudently or not? His
grace replied, you have doubtless acted very prudently in so doing,
if you know how to get them from him again. " _Carte_, Vol. II. p.
462. At length, after the duke had attended court for a year without
receiving a civil word from his sovereign, he suddenly received a
message, that the king meant to sup with him. At the entertainment, no
word of explanation took place, although the ancient cordiality between
the king and his subject seemed to be fully restored. The next day,
when the duke came to the court, as usual, the king observed, "Yonder
comes Ormond; I have done all I can to disoblige him, and render him
as discontented as others; but he will be loyal in spite of my teeth:
I must even take him in again, as the fittest man to govern Ireland. "
Accordingly, the duke was restored to his office of lord-lieutenant in
1677.

He held this high situation during the ferment occasioned by the Popish
plot; and although, according to Oates and Bedloe's information, one
branch of that conspiracy was the murder of the duke, yet he did not
escape suspicion of being accessary to it any more than the king, who
was in the same predicament. Lord Shaftesbury, in the parliament of
1679, insinuated an accusation against the duke, on account of the
alleged favour he shewed to Papists. From this charge he was vindicated
by the Earl of Ossory, with an uncommon degree of spirited eloquence.
Alter pleading his father's services against the Roman Catholic
rebels, the danger of assassination from them which he had repeatedly
escaped, and the active share he had in preventing the perversion of
the Duke of Gloucester from the Protestant faith, he thus retorted upon
Shaftesbury; "Having spoke of what he has done, I presume with the same
truth to tell your lordship what he has not done. He never advised the
breaking the triple league; he never advised the shutting up of the
exchequer; he never advised the declaration for a toleration; he never
advised the falling out with the Dutch, and the joining with France;
he was not the author of that most excellent position, _Delenda est
Carthago_; that Holland, a Protestant country, should, contrary to the
true interest of England, be totally destroyed. I beg your lordship
will be so just, as to judge of my father, and of all men, according to
their actions and counsels. "[339] Shaftesbury, abashed at this summary
of his former political conduct, so different from that he was now
pursuing, retracted his accusation with some symptoms of confusion.
It remained, however, a capital object with the Whigs, to remove, if
possible, the Duke of Ormond from the management of Ireland, at least
to put in such a council as should trammel his measures. The King's
firmness disconcerted both these plans. At the momentous period when
Shaftesbury was committed to the Tower, the Duke of Ormond was sent
for to England, that his presence might add respectability and weight
to the king's councils. He entered the city with great pomp; and was
every where received with the veneration due to his rank, his age, and
his services. He had never linked himself to any political faction;
contented to serve the crown upon the old cavalier principles, which
he always asserted. He was thought, however, to go too great lengths
in advising the king to maintain his authority by harsh measures; nor
were his experience and authority sufficient to prevent much confused
jarring in the king's councils, betwixt Halifax, who was for holding
the scales even between the factions, and the high-flying Tories, who
were posting towards arbitrary power. Yet, as a steady supporter of
the interests of the crown, particularly in the course of the city
elections, he deserved the honour which Dryden has assigned him, of
standing the first in the file of the king's friends.

The King was pleased to reward the services of Ormond by giving him the
rank of an English Duke, in 1682. After having been so long threatened
with removal, as a favourer of the Papists, he was actually deprived of
the lieutenancy of Ireland, in 1684, for not being disposed to second
James II. in the countenance which he meant to afford that sect. The
great Duke of Ormond, to which epithet he has a just title, died on the
21 July, 1688, without witnessing the second banishment of the house of
Stewart.

This great statesman was a particular patron of Dryden, as is evident
from the dedication of "Plutarch's Lives;" where our author again
expresses his respect for the father, and his regret for the son. After
the death of both, our poet continued to enjoy the countenance of their
successor, James, second Duke of Ormond, son of the gallant Ossory, to
whom he has dedicated the Fables.


Note XXXIII.

_His bed could once a fruitful issue boast;
Now more than half a father's name is lost.
His eldest hope, with every grace adorned,
By me, so heaven will have it, always mourned,
And always honoured, snatched, in manhood's prime,
By unequal fates, and providence's crime. _--P. 242.

The Duke of Ormond had eight sons, and two daughters. Six of those
sons were dead in 1681, when this poem was published. He, over whom
Dryden pours forth this lamentation, was the gallant Thomas, Earl of
Ossory, whom, in the last note, we have exhibited as the guardian
of his father's life and reputation. At the age of twenty-one, his
external appearance and accomplishments are thus described by one who
knew him well:[340] "He is a young man, with a very handsome face,
a good head of hair, a pretty big voice, well set, and a good round
leg. He pleaseth me exceedingly; being very good-natured, asking many
questions, and humouring the answers. He rides the great horse very
well, is a good tennis player, fencer, and dancer. He understands
music, and plays on the guittar and lute; speaks French eloquently,
reads Italian fluently; is a good historian, and so well versed in
romances, that, if a gallery be full of pictures, or hangings, he will
tell the story of all that are there described. He shuts up his door
at eight o'clock in the evening, and studies till midnight. He is
temperate, courteous, and excellent in all his behaviour. " When the
Duke of Ormond went into exile, his son was imprisoned by Cromwell,
but, being afterwards released, he went abroad. In 1659, he married
the daughter of Beverwaert, governor of Sluys, a leading man in the
States-General. Upon the Restoration, he was promoted in the army,
which did not prevent his exerting his gallantry on another element;
for, during the desperate action of four days in 1666, upon hearing
the sound of the cannon, he contrived to get off from Harwich, and
to get on board the Duke of Albemarle, to whom he brought the first
news, that Prince Rupert was recalled to support him. He distinguished
himself by his bravery during the battle in Southwold Bay, and by his
liberality to the wounded seamen after the action. In 1673 he was
made rear-admiral of the blue squadron; and, in the great battle in
which Sir Edward Spragge was killed, he lay by to defend and bring off
that admiral's disabled vessel. He is said to have formed a plan for
revenging the surprise at Chatham, by a descent at Helvoetsluys; when
he averred he would burn the Royal Charles, which the Dutch preserved
as a trophy, and the whole Dutch fleet, with a half-penny candle, or
consent, in case of failure, that his head should be placed beside
Cromwell's on Westminster-Hall. But the scheme was not attempted; being
prevented, it is said, by the envious interposition of Buckingham. In
November 1674, the Earl of Ossory had the honour to be intrusted with
the charge of arranging the match between the Prince of Orange and the
Lady Mary. He served under the prince against the French with great
credit, particularly in the famous battle of Mons, fought 1678, where,
with the British regiments under his command, he executed with glory
the desperate service of beating the French out of their entrenchments.
In April 1680, he was designed Governor of Tangiers, an appointment
with which he was highly pleased; for his courage, being of a romantic
and wild nature, delighted in the prospect of being opposed to such
uncommon adversaries as the Moors. But, while he was busily preparing
for his departure, he was seized with a malignant fever, during the
delirium of which his mind was observed constantly to be occupied with
his intended exploits against the besiegers of Tangiers. [341] He died
on the 30th July, 1680, aged forty-six years. The lamentation for
his loss was general and excessive; the noble reply of his venerable
father, to those who offered him consolation, is well known: "Since he
had borne the death of his king, he could support," he said, "that of
his child; and would rather have his dead son, than any living son in
Christendom. "

The Earl of Ossory was a patron of learning; and was mourned, both in
verse and prose, by many other writers, as well as Dryden. Settle,
who then seems to have been in the Tory interest, published a heroic
poem on his death. Flatman wrote a pindaric ode on the same occasion;
for which he received, from the Duke of Ormond, a diamond ring of 100
guineas value. --See WOOD'S _Athenæ Oxon_. There is another ode written
by K. C. , perhaps Katherine Cockburn; finally, one bard, resolving to
amuse the nation's mourning by his own, dedicates to Ossory's memory
some exquisite stanzas, beginning thus: "Upon the Earl of Ossory, who
died of a fever, 30th July, 1680. "

The best sized pillar of the fairest pile,
That has of late been built on Ireland's isle,
Is fallen; some were too short, others too long,
Some are too old, and others much too young.

* * * * *

Who knew him well, could not believe that ever
He meant to die thus tamely of a fever.

After lamenting, in similar strains, that the subject of his muse had not

---- ----fallen down a scaling ladder;
First by grenadoes rent, or, what is sadder,
Some royal ship his coffin should have been;

he complains, "weeps, and frets," that

---- ----the king, the nation,
Ireland, his house, and the whole confederation
Of worthy men, his children, and his wife,
Were all trepanned and cozen'd of his life;
For he (who fire and hail was proof) with ice
Was burned, and with a peach shot in a trice.

It is curious, and not quite useless, to see how admirably such a poet
can succeed in turning into farce the most lofty subject.


Note XXXIV.

_Zadoc the priest, whom, shunning power and place,
His lowly mind advanced to David's grace. _--P. 243.

Sancroft, Archbishop of Canterbury, was, in principle and practice,
a rigid high-church man. He even harboured notions favourable to the
celibacy of the clergy, and other ascetic doctrines of the church of
Rome. Burnet says, "that he was a man of solemn deportment, sullen
gravity, and some learning. " He made profession of the old cavalier
faith and principles of loyalty, which rendered him acceptable to
the court and the high-church party in general, although his temper
was austere and reserved, and his manners dry and distant. Yet the
Archbishop, though so harshly described by his brother of Sarum,
displayed, on one urgent occasion, a becoming readiness to assert
the doctrine of the church of England against those of Rome; and on
another, the steadiness of his own political principles, although his
adherence, in both instances, exposed him to persecution from those
in power. While the head of the high-church party, this primate was
the first to encourage the bishops and clergy to a refusal to read the
king's declaration of indulgence; he concerted also, and signed the
memorable petition, for which, with six other prelates, he suffered
imprisonment and trial, by one of the most imprudent exertions of
power which an infatuated monarch ever attempted. On the 16th of July,
1688, this primate recommended a set of articles to the bishops within
his metropolitan jurisdiction, inculcating residence and attention to
parochial duties; but especially, that the clergy should take heed of
Romish emissaries, who, like the old serpent, _insidiantur calcaneo_,
and besiege the beds of dying persons, to unsettle their faith. He
also recommends a tender regard to their "brethren, the protestant
dissenters," and an union with them against the church of Rome. At
the Revolution, the Archbishop was one of those privy counsellors who
invited the Prince of Orange to take charge of the government; but as
his principles did not permit him to accede to any step for removing
King James from the throne, he declined sitting in the Convention of
the estates.