No More Learning

Flight of James from Rochester
Debates and Resolutions of the Lords
Debates and Resolutions of the Commoners summoned by the Prince
Convention called; Exertions of the Prince to restore Order
His tolerant Policy
Satisfaction of Roman Catholic Powers; State of Feeling in France
Reception of the Queen of England in France
Arrival of James at Saint Germains
State of Feeling in the United Provinces
Election of Members to serve in the Convention
Affairs of Scotland
State of Parties in England
Sherlock's Plan
Sancroft's Plan
Danby's Plan
The Whig Plan
Meeting of the Convention; leading Members of the House of Commons
Choice of a Speaker
Debate on the State of the Nation
Resolution declaring the Throne vacant
It is sent up to the Lords; Debate in the Lords on the Plan of Regency
Schism between the Whigs and the Followers of Danby
Meeting at the Earl of Devonshire's
Debate in the Lords on the Question whether the Throne was vacant
Majority for the Negative; Agitation in London
Letter of James to the Convention
Debates; Negotiations; Letter of the Princess of Orange to Danby
The Princess Anne acquiesces in the Whig Plan
William explains his views
The Conference between the houses
The Lords yield
New Laws proposed for the Security of Liberty
Disputes and Compromise
The Declaration of Right
Arrival of Mary
Tender and Acceptance of the Crown
William and Mary proclaimed; peculiar Character of the English Revolution





CHAPTER VI


The Power of James at the Height--His Foreign Policy--His Plans of
Domestic Government; the Habeas Corpus Act--The Standing Army--Designs
in favour of the Roman Catholic Religion--Violation of the Test
Act--Disgrace of Halifax; general Discontent--Persecution of the French
Huguenots--Effect of that Persecution in England--Meeting of
Parliament; Speech of the King; an Opposition formed in the House of
Commons--Sentiments of Foreign Governments--Committee of the Commons
on the King's Speech--Defeat of the Government--Second Defeat of the
Government; the King reprimands the Commons--Coke committed by the
Commons for Disrespect to the King--Opposition to the Government in
the Lords; the Earl of Devonshire--The Bishop of London--Viscount
Mordaunt--Prorogation--Trials of Lord Gerard and of Hampden--Trial of
Delamere--Effect of his Acquittal--Parties in the Court; Feeling of
the Protestant Tories--Publication of Papers found in the Strong Box
of Charles II. --Feeling of the respectable Roman Catholics--Cabal of
violent Roman Catholics; Castlemaine--Jermyn; White; Tyrconnel--Feeling
of the Ministers of Foreign Governments--The Pope and the Order of Jesus
opposed to each other--The Order of Jesus--Father Petre--The
King's Temper and Opinions--The King encouraged in his Errors by
Sunderland--Perfidy of Jeffreys--Godolphin; the Queen; Amours of the
King--Catharine Sedley--Intrigues of Rochester in favour of Catharine
Sedley--Decline of Rochester's Influence--Castelmaine sent to Rome;
the Huguenots illtreated by James--The Dispensing Power--Dismission of
Refractory Judges--Case of Sir Edward Hales--Roman Catholics authorised
to hold Ecclesiastical Benefices;--Sclater; Walker--The Deanery
of Christchurch given to a Roman Catholic--Disposal of
Bishoprics--Resolution of James to use his Ecclesiastical Supremacy
against the Church--His Difficulties--He creates a new Court of High
Commission--Proceedings against the Bishop of London--Discontent excited
by the Public Display of Roman Catholic--Rites and Vestments--Riots--A
Camp formed at Hounslow--Samuel Johnson--Hugh Speke--Proceedings against
Johnson--Zeal of the Anglican Clergy against Popery--The Roman
Catholic Divines overmatched--State of Scotland--Queensberry--Perth and
Melfort--Favour shown to the Roman Catholic Religion in
Scotland--Riots at Edinburgh--Anger of the King; his Plans concerning
Scotland--Deputation of Scotch Privy Councillors sent to London--Their
Negotiations with the King--Meeting of the Scotch Estates; they prove
refractory--They are adjourned; arbitrary System of Government
in Scotland--Ireland--State of the Law on the Subject of
Religion--Hostility of Races--Aboriginal Peasantry; aboriginal
Aristocracy--State of the English Colony--Course which James ought
to have followed--His Errors--Clarendon arrives in Ireland as Lord
Lieutenant--His Mortifications; Panic among the Colonists--Arrival of
Tyrconnel at Dublin as General; his Partiality and Violence--He is bent
on the Repeal of the Act of Settlement; he returns to England--The
King displeased with Clarendon--Rochester attacked by the Jesuitical
Cabal--Attempts of James to convert Rochester--Dismission of
Rochester--Dismission of Clarendon; Tyrconnel Lord Deputy--Dismay of the
English Colonists in Ireland--Effect of the Fall of the Hydes


JAMES was now at the height of power and prosperity. Both in England and
in Scotland he had vanquished his enemies, and had punished them with
a severity which had indeed excited their bitterest hatred, but had, at
the same time, effectually quelled their courage. The Whig party seemed
extinct. The name of Whig was never used except as a term of reproach.
The Parliament was devoted to the King; and it was in his power to keep
that Parliament to the end of his reign. The Church was louder than
ever in professions of attachment to him, and had, during the late
insurrection, acted up to those professions. The Judges were his tools;
and if they ceased to be so, it was in his power to remove them. The
corporations were filled with his creatures. His revenues far exceeded
those of his predecessors. His pride rose high. He was not the same
man who, a few months before, in doubt whether his throne might not
be overturned in a hour, had implored foreign help with unkingly
supplications, and had accepted it with tears of gratitude. Visions
of dominion and glory rose before him. He already saw himself, in
imagination, the umpire of Europe, the champion of many states oppressed
by one too powerful monarchy. So early as the month of June he had
assured the United Provinces that, as soon as the affairs of England
were settled, he would show the world how little he feared France. In
conformity with these assurances, he, within a month after the battle of
Sedgemoor, concluded with the States General a defensive treaty, framed
in the very spirit of the Triple League. It was regarded, both at
the Hague and at Versailles, as a most significant circumstance that
Halifax, who was the constant and mortal enemy of French ascendency, and
who had scarcely ever before been consulted on any grave affair since
the beginning of the reign, took the lead on this occasion, and seemed
to have the royal ear. It was a circumstance not less significant that
no previous communication was made to Barillon. Both he and his master
were taken by surprise. Lewis was much troubled, and expressed great,
and not unreasonable, anxiety as to the ulterior designs of the prince
who had lately been his pensioner and vassal. There were strong rumours
that William of Orange was busied in organizing a great confederacy,
which was to include both branches of the House of Austria, the United
Provinces, the kingdom of Sweden, and the electorate of Brandenburg.
It now seemed that this confederacy would have at its head the King and
Parliament of England.

In fact, negotiations tending to such a result were actually opened.
Spain proposed to form a close alliance with James; and he listened to
the proposition with favour, though it was evident that such an alliance
would be little less than a declaration of war against France. But
he postponed his final decision till after the Parliament should have
reassembled. The fate of Christendom depended on the temper in which he
might then find the Commons. If they were disposed to acquiesce in his
plans of domestic government, there would be nothing to prevent him from
interfering with vigour and authority in the great dispute which must
soon be brought to an issue on the Continent. If they were refractory,
he must relinquish all thought of arbitrating between contending
nations, must again implore French assistance, must again submit to
French dictation, must sink into a potentate of the third or fourth
class, and must indemnify himself for the contempt with which he would
be regarded abroad by triumphs over law and public opinion at home. [1]

It seemed, indeed, that it would not be easy for him to demand more than
the Commons were disposed to give. Already they had abundantly proved
that they were desirous to maintain his prerogatives unimpaired, and
that they were by no means extreme to mark his encroachments on the
rights of the people. Indeed, eleven twelfths of the members were either
dependents of the court, or zealous Cavaliers from the country. There
were few things which such an assembly could pertinaciously refuse to
the Sovereign; and, happily for the nation, those few things were the
very things on which James had set his heart.

One of his objects was to obtain a repeal of the Habeas Corpus Act,
which he hated, as it was natural that a tyrant should hate the most
stringent curb that ever legislation imposed on tyranny. This feeling
remained deeply fixed in his mind to the last, and appears in the
instructions which he drew up, in exile, for the guidance of his son.
[2] But the Habeas Corpus Act, though passed during the ascendency of
the Whigs, was not more dear to the Whigs than to the Tories. It is
indeed not wonderful that this great law should be highly prized by all
Englishmen without distinction of party: for it is a law which, not by
circuitous, but by direct operation, adds to the security and happiness
of every inhabitant of the realm. [3]

James had yet another design, odious to the party which had set him on
the throne and which had upheld him there. He wished to form a great
standing army. He had taken advantage of the late insurrection to make
large additions to the military force which his brother had left. The
bodies now designated as the first six regiments of dragoon guards,
the third and fourth regiments of dragoons, and the nine regiments of
infantry of the line, from the seventh to the fifteenth inclusive, had
just been raised. [4] The effect of these augmentations, and of the
recall of the garrison of Tangier, was that the number of regular troops
in England had, in a few months, been increased from six thousand to
near twenty thousand. No English King had ever, in time of peace, had
such a force at his command. Yet even with this force James was not
content. He often repeated that no confidence could be placed in the
fidelity of the train-bands, that they sympathized with all the passions
of the class to which they belonged, that, at Sedgemoor, there had been
more militia men in the rebel army than in the royal encampment, and
that, if the throne had been defended only by the array of the counties,
Monmouth would have marched in triumph from Lyme to London.

The revenue, large as it was when compared with that of former Kings,
barely sufficed to meet this new charge. A great part of the produce of
the new taxes was absorbed by the naval expenditure. At the close of the
late reign the whole cost of the army, the Tangier regiments included,
had been under three hundred thousand pounds a year. Six hundred
thousand pounds a year would not now suffice. [5] If any further
augmentation were made, it would be necessary to demand a supply
from Parliament; and it was not likely that Parliament would be in a
complying mood. The very name of standing army was hateful to the whole
nation, and to no part of the nation more hateful than to the Cavalier
gentlemen who filled the Lower House. In their minds a standing army
was inseparably associated with the Rump, with the Protector, with the
spoliation of the Church, with the purgation of the Universities, with
the abolition of the peerage, with the murder of the King, with the
sullen reign of the Saints, with cant and asceticism, with fines and
sequestrations, with the insults which Major Generals, sprung from
the dregs of the people, had offered to the oldest and most honourable
families of the kingdom. There was, moreover, scarcely a baronet or a
squire in the Parliament who did not owe part of his importance in his
own county to his rank in the militia. If that national force were
set aside, the gentry of England must lose much of their dignity and
influence. It was therefore probable that the King would find it more
difficult to obtain funds for the support of his army than even to
obtain the repeal of the Habeas Corpus Act.

But both the designs which have been mentioned were subordinate to one
great design on which the King's whole soul was bent, but which was
abhorred by those Tory gentlemen who were ready to shed their blood
for his rights, abhorred by that Church which had never, during three
generations of civil discord, wavered in fidelity to his house, abhorred
even by that army on which, in the last extremity, he must rely.

His religion was still under proscription. Many rigorous laws against
Roman Catholics appeared on the Statute Book, and had, within no long
time, been rigorously executed. The Test Act excluded from civil and
military office all who dissented from the Church of England; and, by a
subsequent Act, passed when the fictions of Oates had driven the nation
wild, it had been provided that no person should sit in either House of
Parliament without solemnly abjuring the doctrine of transubstantiation.
That the King should wish to obtain for the Church to which he belonged
a complete toleration was natural and right; nor is there any reason
to doubt that, by a little patience, prudence, and justice, such a
toleration might have been obtained.

The extreme antipathy and dread with which the English people regarded
his religion was not to be ascribed solely or chiefly to theological
animosity. That salvation might be found in the Church of Rome, nay,
that some members of that Church had been among the brightest examples
of Christian virtue, was admitted by all divines of the Anglican
communion and by the most illustrious Nonconformists. It is notorious
that the penal laws against Popery were strenuously defended by many who
thought Arianism, Quakerism, and Judaism more dangerous, in a spiritual
point of view, than Popery, and who yet showed no disposition to enact
similar laws against Arians, Quakers, or Jews.

It is easy to explain why the Roman Catholic was treated with less
indulgence than was shown to men who renounced the doctrine of the
Nicene fathers, and even to men who had not been admitted by baptism
within the Christian pale. There was among the English a strong
conviction that the Roman Catholic, where the interests of his religion
were concerned, thought himself free from all the ordinary rules of
morality, nay, that he thought it meritorious to violate those rules if,
by so doing, he could avert injury or reproach from the Church of which
he was a member.

Nor was this opinion destitute of a show of reason. It was impossible
to deny that Roman Catholic casuists of great eminence had written in
defence of equivocation, of mental reservation, of perjury, and even
of assassination. Nor, it was said, had the speculations of this
odious school of sophists been barren of results. The massacre of Saint
Bartholomew, the murder of the first William of Orange, the murder of
Henry the Third of France, the numerous conspiracies which had been
formed against the life of Elizabeth, and, above all, the gunpowder
treason, were constantly cited as instances of the close connection
between vicious theory and vicious practice. It was alleged that every
one of these crimes had been prompted or applauded by Roman Catholic
divines. The letters which Everard Digby wrote in lemon juice from the
Tower to his wife had recently been published, and were often quoted.
He was a scholar and a gentleman, upright in all ordinary dealings, and
strongly impressed with a sense of duty to God. Yet he had been deeply
concerned in the plot for blowing up King, Lords, and Commons, and had,
on the brink of eternity, declared that it was incomprehensible to him
how any Roman Catholic should think such a design sinful. The inference
popularly drawn from these things was that, however fair the general
character of a Papist might be, there was no excess of fraud or cruelty
of which he was not capable when the safety and honour of his Church
were at stake.

The extraordinary success of the fables of Oates is to be chiefly
ascribed to the prevalence of this opinion. It was to no purpose that
the accused Roman Catholic appealed to the integrity, humanity, and
loyalty which he had shown through the whole course of his life. It was
to no purpose that he called crowds of respectable witnesses, of his
own persuasion, to contradict monstrous romances invented by the most
infamous of mankind. It was to no purpose that, with the halter round
his neck, he invoked on himself the whole vengeance of the God before
whom, in a few moments, he must appear, if he had been guilty of
meditating any ill to his prince or to his Protestant fellow countrymen.
The evidence which he produced in his favour proved only how little
Popish oaths were worth. His very virtues raised a presumption of his
guilt. That he had before him death and judgment in immediate prospect
only made it more likely that he would deny what, without injury to the
holiest of causes, he could not confess. Among the unhappy men who
were convicted of the murder of Godfrey was one Protestant of no
high character, Henry Berry. It is a remarkable and well attested
circumstance, that Berry's last words did more to shake the credit of
the plot than the dying declarations of all the pious and honourable
Roman Catholics who underwent the same fate. [6]

It was not only by the ignorant populace, it was not only by zealots in
whom fanaticism had extinguished all reason and charity, that the Roman
Catholic was regarded as a man the very tenderness of whose conscience
might make him a false witness, an incendiary, or a murderer, as a man
who, where his Church was concerned, shrank from no atrocity and could
be bound by no oath. If there were in that age two persons inclined by
their judgment and by their temper to toleration, those persons were
Tillotson and Locke. Yet Tillotson, whose indulgence for various kinds
of schismatics and heretics brought on him the reproach of heterodoxy,
told the House of Commons from the pulpit that it was their duty to
make effectual provision against the propagation of a religion more
mischievous than irreligion itself, of a religion which demanded from
its followers services directly opposed to the first principles of
morality. His temper, he truly said, was prone to lenity; but his duty
to he community forced him to be, in this one instance, severe. He
declared that, in his judgment, Pagans who had never heard the name
of Christ, and who were guided only by the light of nature, were more
trustworthy members of civil society than men who had been formed in the
schools of the Popish casuists. [7] Locke, in the celebrated treatise in
which he laboured to show that even the grossest forms of idolatry ought
not to be prohibited under penal sanctions, contended that the Church
which taught men not to keep faith with heretics had no claim to
toleration. [8]

It is evident that, in such circumstances, the greatest service which an
English Roman Catholic could render to his brethren in the faith was
to convince the public that, whatever some rash men might, in times of
violent excitement, have written or done, his Church did not hold that
any end could sanctify means inconsistent with morality. And this great
service it was in the power of James to render. He was King. He was more
powerful than any English King had been within the memory of the oldest
man. It depended on him whether the reproach which lay on his religion
should be taken away or should be made permanent.

Had he conformed to the laws, had he fulfilled his promises, had he
abstained from employing any unrighteous methods for the propagation of
his own theological tenets, had he suspended the operation of the penal
statutes by a large exercise of his unquestionable prerogative of mercy,
but, at the same time, carefully abstained from violating the civil or
ecclesiastical constitution of the realm, the feeling of his people must
have undergone a rapid change. So conspicuous an example of good faith
punctiliously observed by a Popish prince towards a Protestant nation
would have quieted the public apprehensions. Men who saw that a
Roman Catholic might safely be suffered to direct the whole executive
administration, to command the army and navy, to convoke and dissolve
the legislature, to appoint the Bishops and Deans of the Church of
England, would soon have ceased to fear that any great evil would arise
from allowing a Roman Catholic to be captain of a company or alderman
of a borough. It is probable that, in a few years, the sect so long
detested by the nation would, with general applause, have been admitted
to office and to Parliament.

If, on the other hand, James should attempt to promote the interest
of his Church by violating the fundamental laws of his kingdom and the
solemn promises which he had repeatedly made in the face of the whole
world, it could hardly be doubted that the charges which it had been the
fashion to bring against the Roman Catholic religion would be considered
by all Protestants as fully established. For, if ever a Roman Catholic
could be expected to keep faith with heretics, James might have been
expected to keep faith with the Anglican clergy. To them he owed his
crown. But for their strenuous opposition to the Exclusion Bill he
would have been a banished man. He had repeatedly and emphatically
acknowledged his obligation to them, and had vowed to maintain them in
all their legal rights. If he could not be bound by ties like these, it
must be evident that, where his superstition was concerned, no tie of
gratitude or of honour could bind him. To trust him would thenceforth be
impossible; and, if his people could not trust him, what member of his
Church could they trust? He was not supposed to be constitutionally
or habitually treacherous. To his blunt manner, and to his want
of consideration for the feelings of others, he owed a much higher
reputation for sincerity than he at all deserved. His eulogists affected
to call him James the Just. If then it should appear that, in turning
Papist, he had also turned dissembler and promisebreaker, what
conclusion was likely to be drawn by a nation already disposed to
believe that Popery had a pernicious influence on the moral character?

On these grounds many of the most eminent Roman Catholics of that age,
and among them the Supreme Pontiff, were of opinion that the interest
of their Church in our island would be most effectually promoted by a
moderate and constitutional policy. But such reasoning had no effect on
the slow understanding and imperious temper of James. In his eagerness
to remove the disabilities under which the professors of his religion
lay, he took a course which convinced the most enlightened and tolerant
Protestants of his time that those disabilities were essential to the
safety of the state. To his policy the English Roman Catholics owed
three years of lawless and insolent triumph, and a hundred and forty
years of subjection and degradation.

Many members of his Church held commissions in the newly raised
regiments. This breach of the law for a time passed uncensured: for men
were not disposed to note every irregularity which was committed by
a King suddenly called upon to defend his crown and his life against
rebels. But the danger was now over. The insurgents had been vanquished
and punished. Their unsuccessful attempt had strengthened the government
which they had hoped to overthrow. Yet still James continued to grant
commissions to unqualified persons; and speedily it was announced that
he was determined to be no longer bound by the Test Act, that he hoped
to induce the Parliament to repeal that Act, but that, if the Parliament
proved refractory, he would not the less have his own way.

As soon as this was known, a deep murmur, the forerunner of a tempest,
gave him warning that the spirit before which his grandfather, his
father, and his brother had been compelled to recede, though dormant,
was not extinct. Opposition appeared first in the cabinet. Halifax did
not attempt to conceal his disgust and alarm. At the Council board
he courageously gave utterance to those feelings which, as it soon
appeared, pervaded the whole nation. None of his colleagues seconded
him; and the subject dropped. He was summoned to the royal closet, and
had two long conferences with his master. James tried the effect of
compliments and blandishments, but to no purpose. Halifax positively
refused to promise that he would give his vote in the House of Lords for
the repeal either of the Test Act or of the Habeas Corpus Act.

Some of those who were about the King advised him not, on the eve of
the meeting of Parliament, to drive the most eloquent and accomplished
statesman of the age into opposition. They represented that Halifax
loved the dignity and emoluments of office, that, while he continued to
be Lord President, it would be hardly possible for him to put forth his
whole strength against the government, and that to dismiss him from
his high post was to emancipate him from all restraint. The King was
peremptory. Halifax was informed that his services were no longer
needed; and his name was struck out of the Council-Book. [9]

His dismission produced a great sensation not only in England, but also
at Paris, at Vienna, and at the Hague: for it was well known, that he
had always laboured to counteract the influence exercised by the court
of Versailles on English affairs. Lewis expressed great pleasure at the
news. The ministers of the United Provinces and of the House of Austria,
on the other hand, extolled the wisdom and virtue of the discarded
statesman in a manner which gave great offence at Whitehall. James was
particularly angry with the secretary of the imperial legation, who did
not scruple to say that the eminent service which Halifax had performed
in the debate on the Exclusion Bill had been requited with gross
ingratitude. [10]

It soon became clear that Halifax would have many followers. A portion
of the Tories, with their old leader, Danby, at their head, began to
hold Whiggish language. Even the prelates hinted that there was a
point at which the loyalty due to the prince must yield to higher
considerations. The discontent of the chiefs of the army was still more
extraordinary and still more formidable. Already began to appear the
first symptoms of that feeling which, three years later, impelled so
many officers of high rank to desert the royal standard. Men who had
never before had a scruple had on a sudden become strangely scrupulous.
Churchill gently whispered that the King was going too far. Kirke, just
returned from his western butchery, swore to stand by the Protestant
religion. Even if he abjured the faith in which he had been bred, he
would never, he said, become a Papist. He was already bespoken. If ever
he did apostatize, he was bound by a solemn promise to the Emperor of
Morocco to turn Mussulman. [11]

While the nation, agitated by many strong emotions, looked anxiously
forward to the reassembling of the Houses, tidings, which increased the
prevailing excitement, arrived from France.

The long and heroic struggle which the Huguenots had maintained against
the French government had been brought to a final close by the ability
and vigour of Richelieu. That great statesman vanquished them; but he
confirmed to them the liberty of conscience which had been bestowed on
them by the edict of Nantes. They were suffered, under some restraints
of no galling kind, to worship God according to their own ritual, and
to write in defence of their own doctrine. They were admissible to
political and military employment; nor did their heresy, during a
considerable time, practically impede their rise in the world. Some
of them commanded the armies of the state; and others presided over
important departments of the civil administration. At length a change
took place. Lewis the Fourteenth had, from an early age, regarded
the Calvinists with an aversion at once religious and political. As
a zealous Roman Catholic, he detested their theological dogmas. As a
prince fond of arbitrary power, he detested those republican theories
which were intermingled with the Genevese divinity. He gradually
retrenched all the privileges which the schismatics enjoyed. He
interfered with the education of Protestant children, confiscated
property bequeathed to Protestant consistories, and on frivolous
pretexts shut up Protestant churches. The Protestant ministers were
harassed by the tax gatherers. The Protestant magistrates were deprived
of the honour of nobility. The Protestant officers of the royal
household were informed that His Majesty dispensed with their services.
Orders were given that no Protestant should be admitted into the legal
profession. The oppressed sect showed some faint signs of that spirit
which in the preceding century had bidden defiance to the whole power
of the House of Valois. Massacres and executions followed. Dragoons
were quartered in the towns where the heretics were numerous, and in the
country seats of the heretic gentry; and the cruelty and licentiousness
of these rude missionaries was sanctioned or leniently censured by the
government. Still, however, the edict of Nantes, though practically
violated in its most essential provisions, had not been formally
rescinded; and the King repeatedly declared in solemn public acts that
he was resolved to maintain it. But the bigots and flatterers who had
his ear gave him advice which he was but too willing to take. They
represented to him that his rigorous policy had been eminently
successful, that little or no resistance had been made to his will, that
thousands of Huguenots had already been converted, that, if he would
take the one decisive step which yet remained, those who were still
obstinate would speedily submit, France would be purged from the taint
of heresy, and her prince would have earned a heavenly crown not less
glorious than that of Saint Lewis. These arguments prevailed. The final
blow was struck. The edict of Nantes was revoked; and a crowd of decrees
against the sectaries appeared in rapid succession. Boys and girls
were torn from their parents and sent to be educated in convents. All
Calvinistic ministers were commanded either to abjure their religion or
to quit their country within a fortnight. The other professors of the
reformed faith were forbidden to leave the kingdom; and, in order to
prevent them from making their escape, the outports and frontiers were
strictly guarded. It was thought that the flocks, thus separated from
the evil shepherds, would soon return to the true fold. But in spite of
all the vigilance of the military police there was a vast emigration.
It was calculated that, in a few months, fifty thousand families quitted
France for ever. Nor were the refugees such as a country can well spare.
They were generally persons of intelligent minds, of industrious habits,
and of austere morals. In the list are to be found names eminent in war,
in science, in literature, and in art. Some of the exiles offered their
swords to William of Orange, and distinguished themselves by the
fury with which they fought against their persecutor. Others avenged
themselves with weapons still more formidable, and, by means of the
presses of Holland, England, and Germany, inflamed, during thirty years,
the public mind of Europe against the French government. A more peaceful
class erected silk manufactories in the eastern suburb of London. One
detachment of emigrants taught the Saxons to make the stuffs and hats of
which France had hitherto enjoyed a monopoly. Another planted the first
vines in the neighbourhood of the Cape of Good Hope. [12]

In ordinary circumstances the courts of Spain and of Rome would have
eagerly applauded a prince who had made vigorous war on heresy. But such
was the hatred inspired by the injustice and haughtiness of Lewis that,
when he became a persecutor, the courts of Spain and Rome took the side
of religious liberty, and loudly reprobated the cruelty of turning a
savage and licentious soldiery loose on an unoffending people. [13]
One cry of grief and rage rose from the whole of Protestant Europe. The
tidings of the revocation of the edict of Nantes reached England about
a week before the day to which the Parliament stood adjourned. It was
clear then that the spirit of Gardiner and of Alva was still the
spirit of the Roman Catholic Church. Lewis was not inferior to James in
generosity and humanity, and was certainly far superior to James in all
the abilities and acquirements of a statesman. Lewis had, like James,
repeatedly promised to respect the privileges of his Protestant
subjects. Yet Lewis was now avowedly a persecutor of the reformed
religion. What reason was there, then, to doubt that James waited only
for an opportunity to follow the example? He was already forming, in
defiance of the law, a military force officered to a great extent by
Roman Catholics. Was there anything unreasonable in the apprehension
that this force might be employed to do what the French dragoons had
done?

James was almost as much disturbed as his subjects by the conduct of the
court of Versailles. In truth, that court had acted as if it had meant
to embarrass and annoy him. He was about to ask from a Protestant
legislature a full toleration for Roman Catholics. Nothing, therefore,
could be more unwelcome to him than the intelligence that, in a
neighbouring country, toleration had just been withdrawn by a Roman
Catholic government from Protestants. His vexation was increased by a
speech which the Bishop of Valence, in the name of the Gallican clergy,
addressed at this time to Lewis, the Fourteenth.
The pious Sovereign of
England, the orator said, looked to the most Christian King for support
against a heretical nation. It was remarked that the members of the
House of Commons showed particular anxiety to procure copies of this
harangue, and that it was read by all Englishmen with indignation and
alarm. [14] James was desirous to counteract the impression which these
things had made, and was also at that moment by no means unwilling to
let all Europe see that he was not the slave of France. He therefore
declared publicly that he disapproved of the manner in which the
Huguenots had been treated, granted to the exiles some relief from his
privy purse, and, by letters under his great seal, invited his subjects
to imitate his liberality. In a very few months it became clear that all
this compassion was feigned for the purpose of cajoling his Parliament,
that he regarded the refugees with mortal hatred, and that he regretted
nothing so much as his own inability to do what Lewis had done.

On the ninth of November the Houses met. The Commons were summoned to
the bar of the Lords; and the King spoke from the throne. His speech had
been composed by himself. He congratulated his loving subjects on the
suppression of the rebellion in the West: but he added that the speed
with which that rebellion had risen to a formidable height, and the
length of time during which it had continued to rage, must convince
all men how little dependence could be placed on the militia. He had,
therefore, made additions to the regular army. The charge of that army
would henceforth be more than double of what it had been; and he trusted
that the Commons would grant him the means of defraying the increased
expense. He then informed his hearers that he had employed some officers
who had not taken the test; but he knew them to be fit for public trust.
He feared that artful men might avail themselves of this irregularity
to disturb the harmony which existed between himself and his Parliament.
But he would speak out. He was determined not to part with servants on
whose fidelity he could rely, and whose help he might perhaps soon need.
[15]

This explicit declaration that he had broken the laws which were
regarded by the nation as the chief safeguards of the established
religion, and that he was resolved to persist in breaking those laws,
was not likely to soothe the excited feelings of his subjects. The
Lords, seldom disposed to take the lead in opposition to a government,
consented to vote him formal thanks for what he had said. But the
Commons were in a less complying mood. When they had returned to their
own House there was a long silence; and the faces of many of the most
respectable members expressed deep concern. At length Middleton rose and
moved the House to go instantly into committee on the King's speech: but
Sir Edmund Jennings, a zealous Tory from Yorkshire, who was supposed
to speak the sentiments of Danby, protested against this course, and
demanded time for consideration. Sir Thomas Clarges, maternal uncle of
the Duke of Albemarle, and long distinguished in Parliament as a man of
business and a viligant steward of the public money, took the same
side. The feeling of the House could not be mistaken. Sir John Ernley,
Chancellor of the Exchequer, insisted that the delay should not exceed
forty-eight hours; but he was overruled; and it was resolved that the
discussion should be postponed for three days. [16]

The interval was well employed by those who took the lead against the
court. They had indeed no light work to perform. In three days a country
party was to be organized. The difficulty of the task is in our age not
easily to be appreciated; for in our age all the nation may be said to
assist at every deliberation of the Lords and Commons. What is said by
the leaders of the ministry and of the opposition after midnight is read
by the whole metropolis at dawn, by the inhabitants of Northumberland
and Cornwall in the afternoon, and in Ireland and the Highlands
of Scotland on the morrow. In our age, therefore, the stages of
legislation, the rules of debate, the tactics of faction, the opinions,
temper, and style of every active member of either House, are familiar
to hundreds of thousands. Every man who now enters Parliament possesses
what, in the seventeenth century, would have been called a great stock
of parliamentary knowledge. Such knowledge was then to be obtained only
by actual parliamentary service. The difference between an old and a new
member was as great as the difference between a veteran soldier and a
recruit just taken from the plough; and James's Parliament contained
a most unusual proportion of new members, who had brought from their
country seats to Westminster no political knowledge and many violent
prejudices. These gentlemen hated the Papists, but hated the Whigs not
less intensely, and regarded the King with superstitious veneration. To
form an opposition out of such materials was a feat which required the
most skilful and delicate management. Some men of great weight, however,
undertook the work, and performed it with success. Several experienced
Whig politicians, who had not seats in that Parliament, gave useful
advice and information. On the day preceding that which had been fixed
for the debate, many meetings were held at which the leaders instructed
the novices; and it soon appeared that these exertions had not been
thrown away. [17]

The foreign embassies were all in a ferment. It was well understood
that a few days would now decide the great question, whether the King
of England was or was not to be the vassal of the King of France. The
ministers of the House of Austria were most anxious that James should
give satisfaction to his Parliament. Innocent had sent to London two
persons charged to inculcate moderation, both by admonition and by
example. One of them was John Leyburn, an English Dominican, who had
been secretary to Cardinal Howard, and who, with some learning and
a rich vein of natural humour, was the most cautious, dexterous, and
taciturn of men. He had recently been consecrated Bishop of Adrumetum,
and named Vicar Apostolic in Great Britain. Ferdinand, Count of Adda, an
Italian of no eminent abilities, but of mild temper and courtly manners,
had been appointed Nuncio. These functionaries were eagerly welcomed by
James. No Roman Catholic Bishop had exercised spiritual functions in the
island during more than half a century. No Nuncio had been received here
during the hundred and twenty-seven years which had elapsed since the
death of Mary. Leyburn was lodged in Whitehall, and received a pension
of a thousand pounds a year. Adda did not yet assume a public character.
He passed for a foreigner of rank whom curiosity had brought to London,
appeared daily at court, and was treated with high consideration. Both
the Papal emissaries did their best to diminish, as much as possible,
the odium inseparable from the offices which they filled, and to
restrain the rash zeal of James. The Nuncio, in particular, declared
that nothing could be more injurious to the interests of the Church of
Rome than a rupture between the King and the Parliament. [18]

Barillon was active on the other side. The instructions which he
received from Versailles on this occasion well deserve to be studied;
for they furnish a key to the policy systematically pursued by his
master towards England during the twenty years which preceded our
revolution. The advices from Madrid, Lewis wrote, were alarming. Strong
hopes were entertained there that James would ally himself closely
with the House of Austria, as soon as he should be assured that his
Parliament would give him no trouble. In these circumstances, it was
evidently the interest of France that the Parliament should prove
refractory. Barillon was therefore directed to act, with all possible
precautions against detection, the part of a makebate. At court he was
to omit no opportunity of stimulating the religious zeal and the kingly
pride of James; but at the same time it might be desirable to have some
secret communication with the malecontents. Such communication would
indeed be hazardous and would require the utmost adroitness; yet it
might perhaps be in the power of the Ambassador, without committing
himself or his government, to animate the zeal of the opposition for the
laws and liberties of England, and to let it be understood that those
laws and liberties were not regarded by his master with an unfriendly
eye. [19]

Lewis, when he dictated these instructions, did not foresee how speedily
and how completely his uneasiness would be removed by the obstinacy and
stupidity of James. On the twelfth of November the House of Commons,
resolved itself into a committee on the royal speech. The Solicitor
General Heneage Finch, was in the chair. The debate was conducted by
the chiefs of the new country party with rare tact and address. No
expression indicating disrespect to the Sovereign or sympathy for rebels
was suffered to escape. The western insurrection was always mentioned
with abhorrence. Nothing was said of the barbarities of Kirke and
Jeffreys. It was admitted that the heavy expenditure which had been
occasioned by the late troubles justified the King in asking some
further supply: but strong objections were made to the augmentation of
the army and to the infraction of the Test Act.

The subject of the Test Act the courtiers appear to have carefully
avoided. They harangued, however, with some force on the great
superiority of a regular army to a militia. One of them tauntingly
asked whether the defence of the kingdom was to be entrusted to
the beefeaters. Another said that he should be glad to know how the
Devonshire trainbands, who had fled in confusion before Monmouth's
scythemen, would have faced the household troops of Lewis. But these
arguments had little effect on Cavaliers who still remembered with
bitterness the stern rule of the Protector. The general feeling was
forcibly expressed by the first of the Tory country gentlemen of
England, Edward Seymour. He admitted that the militia was not in a
satisfactory state, but maintained that it might be remodelled. The
remodelling might require money; but, for his own part, he would rather
give a million to keep up a force from which he had nothing to fear,
than half a million to keep up a force of which he must ever be afraid.
Let the trainbands be disciplined; let the navy be strengthened; and the
country would be secure. A standing army was at best a mere drain on the
public resources. The soldier was withdrawn from all useful labour. He
produced nothing: he consumed the fruits of the industry of other men;
and he domineered over those by whom he was supported. But the nation
was now threatened, not only with a standing army, but with a Popish
standing army, with a standing army officered by men who might be
very amiable and honourable, but who were on principle enemies to the
constitution of the realm. Sir William Twisden, member for the county of
Kent, spoke on the same side with great keenness and loud applause. Sir
Richard Temple, one of the few Whigs who had a seat in that Parliament,
dexterously accommodating his speech to the temper of his audience,
reminded the House that a standing army had been found, by experience,
to be as dangerous to the just authority of princes as to the liberty
of nations. Sir John Maynard, the most learned lawyer of his time, took
part in the debate. He was now more than eighty years old, and could
well remember the political contests of the reign of James the First. He
had sate in the Long Parliament, and had taken part with the Roundheads,
but had always been for lenient counsels, and had laboured to bring
about a general reconciliation. His abilities, which age had not
impaired, and his professional knowledge, which had long overawed all
Westminster Hall, commanded the ear of the House of Commons. He, too,
declared himself against the augmentation of the regular forces.

After much debate, it was resolved that a supply should be granted to
the crown; but it was also resolved that a bill should be brought in for
making the militia more efficient. This last resolution was tantamount
to a declaration against the standing army. The King was greatly
displeased; and it was whispered that, if things went on thus, the
session would not be of long duration. [20]

On the morrow the contention was renewed. The language of the country
party was perceptibly bolder and sharper than on the preceding day.
That paragraph of the King's speech which related to supply preceded the
paragraph which related to the test. On this ground Middleton proposed
that the paragraph relating to supply should be first considered in
committee. The opposition moved the previous question. They contended
that the reasonable and constitutional practice was to grant no money
till grievances had been redressed, and that there would be an end of
this practice if the House thought itself bound servilely to follow the
order in which matters were mentioned by the King from the throne.

The division was taken on the question whether Middletons motion should
be put. The Noes were ordered by the Speaker to go forth into the lobby.
They resented this much, and complained loudly of his servility and
partiality: for they conceived that, according to the intricate and
subtle rule which was then in force, and which, in our time, was
superseded by a more rational and convenient practice, they were
entitled to keep their seats; and it was held by all the Parliamentary
tacticians of that age that the party which stayed in the House had an
advantage over the party which went out; for the accommodation on the
benches was then so deficient that no person who had been fortunate
enough to get a good seat was willing to lose it. Nevertheless, to
the dismay of the ministers, many persons on whose votes the court had
absolutely depended were seen moving towards the door. Among them was
Charles Fox, Paymaster of the Forces, and son of Sir Stephen Fox, Clerk
of the Green Cloth. The Paymaster had been induced by his friends to
absent himself during part of the discussion. But his anxiety had become
insupportable. He come down to the Speaker's chamber, heard part of
the debate, withdrew, and, after hesitating for an hour or two between
conscience and five thousand pounds a year, took a manly resolution and
rushed into the House just in time to vote. Two officers of the army,
Colonel John Darcy, son of the Lord Conyers, and Captain James Kendall,
withdrew to the lobby. Middleton went down to the bar and expostulated
warmly with them. He particularly addressed himself to Kendall, a needy
retainer of the court, who had, in obedience to the royal mandate, been
sent to Parliament by a packed corporation in Cornwall, and who had
recently obtained a grant of a hundred head of rebels sentenced to
transportation. "Sir," said Middleton, "have not you a troop of horse in
His Majesty's service? " "Yes, my Lord," answered Kendall: "but my elder
brother is just dead, and has left me seven hundred a year. "

When the tellers had done their office it appeared that the Ayes were
one hundred and eighty-two, and the Noes one and eighty-three. In that
House of Commons which had been brought together by the unscrupulous use
of chicanery, of corruption, and of violence, in that House of Commons
of which James had said that more than eleven twelfths of the members
were such as he would himself have nominated, the court had sustained a
defeat on a vital question. [21]

In consequence of this vote the expressions which the King had used
respecting the test were, on the thirteenth of November, taken into
consideration. It was resolved, after much discussion, that an address
should be presented to him, reminding him that he could not legally
continue to employ officers who refused to qualify, and pressing him to
give such directions as might quiet the apprehensions and jealousies of
his people. [22]

A motion was then made that the Lords should be requested to join in the
address. Whether this motion was honestly made by the opposition, in
the hope that the concurrence of the peers would add weight to the
remonstrance, or artfully made by the courtiers, in the hope that a
breach between the Houses might be the consequence, it is now impossible
to discover. The proposition was rejected. [23]

The House then resolved itself into a committee, for the purpose of
considering the amount of supply to be granted. The King wanted fourteen
hundred thousand pounds: but the ministers saw that it would be vain to
ask for so large a sum. The Chancellor of the Exchequer mentioned twelve
hundred thousand pounds. The chiefs of the opposition replied that to
vote for such a grant would be to vote for the permanence of the present
military establishment: they were disposed to give only so much as might
suffice to keep the regular troops on foot till the militia could be
remodelled and they therefore proposed four hundred thousand pounds.
The courtiers exclaimed against this motion as unworthy of the House and
disrespectful to the King: but they were manfully encountered. One of
the western members, John Windham, who sate for Salisbury, especially
distinguished himself. He had always, he said, looked with dread and
aversion on standing armies; and recent experience had strengthened
those feelings. He then ventured to touch on a theme which had hitherto
been studiously avoided. He described the desolation of the western
counties. The people, he said, were weary of the oppression of the
troops, weary of free quarters, of depredations, of still fouler crimes
which the law called felonies, but for which, when perpetrated by this
class of felons, no redress could be obtained. The King's servants had
indeed told the House that excellent rules had been laid down for the
government of the army; but none could venture to say that these rules
had been observed. What, then, was the inevitable inference? Did not the
contrast between the paternal injunctions issued from the throne and the
insupportable tyranny of the soldiers prove that the army was even now
too strong for the prince as well as for the people? The Commons might
surely, with perfect consistency, while they reposed entire confidence
in the intentions of His Majesty, refuse to make any addition to a force
which it was clear that His Majesty could not manage.

The motion that the sum to be granted should not exceed four hundred
thousand pounds, was lost by twelve votes. This victory of the ministers
was little better than a defeat. The leaders of the country party,
nothing disheartened, retreated a little, made another stand, and
proposed the sum of seven hundred thousand pounds. The committee divided
again, and the courtiers were beaten by two hundred and twelve votes to
one hundred and seventy. [24]

On the following day the Commons went in procession to Whitehall with
their address on the subject of the test. The King received them on
his throne. The address was drawn up in respectful and affectionate
language; for the great majority of those who had voted for it were
zealously and even superstitiously loyal, and had readily agreed to
insert some complimentary phrases, and to omit every word which the
courtiers thought offensive. The answer of James was a cold and sullen
reprimand. He declared himself greatly displeased and amazed that the
Commons should have profited so little by the admonition which he had
given them. "But," said he, "however you may proceed on your part, I
will be very steady in all the promises which I have made to you. " [25]

The Commons reassembled in their chamber, discontented, yet somewhat
overawed. To most of them the King was still an object of filial
reverence. Three more years filled with injuries, and with insults more
galling than injuries, were scarcely sufficient to dissolve the ties
which bound the Cavalier gentry to the throne.

The Speaker repeated the substance of the King's reply. There was, for
some time, a solemn stillness; then the order of the day was read
in regular course; and the House went into committee on the bill for
remodelling the militia.

In a few hours, however, the spirit of the opposition revived. When,
at the close of the day, the Speaker resumed the chair, Wharton, the
boldest and most active of the Whigs, proposed that a time should be
appointed for taking His Majesty's answer into consideration. John Coke,
member for Derby, though a noted Tory, seconded Wharton. "I hope," he
said, "that we are all Englishmen, and that we shall not be frightened
from our duty by a few high words. "

It was manfully, but not wisely, spoken. The whole House was in a
tempest. "Take down his words," "To the bar," "To the Tower," resounded
from every side. Those who were most lenient proposed that the offender
should be reprimanded: but the ministers vehemently insisted that he
should be sent to prison. The House might pardon, they said, offences
committed against itself, but had no right to pardon an insult offered
to the crown. Coke was sent to the Tower. The indiscretion of one
man had deranged the whole system of tactics which had been so ably
concerted by the chiefs of the opposition. It was in vain that, at that
moment, Edward Seymour attempted to rally his followers, exhorted
them to fix a day for discussing the King's answer, and expressed his
confidence that the discussion would be conducted with the respect due
from subjects to the sovereign. The members were so much cowed by the
royal displeasure, and so much incensed by the rudeness of Coke, that it
would not have been safe to divide. [26]

The House adjourned; and the ministers flattered themselves that the
spirit of opposition was quelled. But on the morrow, the nineteenth of
November, new and alarming symptoms appeared. The time had arrived for
taking into consideration the petitions which had been presented from
all parts of England against the late elections. When, on the first
meeting of the Parliament, Seymour had complained of the force and fraud
by which the government had prevented the sense of constituent bodies
from being fairly taken, he had found no seconder. But many who had then
flinched from his side had subsequently taken heart, and, with Sir John
Lowther, member for Cumberland, at their head, had, before the recess,
suggested that there ought to be an enquiry into the abuses which had
so much excited the public mind. The House was now in a much more angry
temper; and many voices were boldly raised in menace and accusation. The
ministers were told that the nation expected, and should have, signal
redress. Meanwhile it was dexterously intimated that the best atonement
which a gentleman who had been brought into the House by irregular means
could make to the public was to use his ill acquired power in defence
of the religion and liberties of his country. No member who, in that
crisis, did his duty had anything to fear. It might be necessary to
unseat him; but the whole influence of the opposition should be employed
to procure his reelection. [27]

On the same day it became clear that the spirit of opposition had spread
from the Commons to the Lords, and even to the episcopal bench. William
Cavendish, Earl of Devonshire, took the lead in the Upper House; and he
was well qualified to do so. In wealth and influence he was second to
none of the English nobles; and the general voice designated him as the
finest gentleman of his time. His magnificence, his taste, his talents,
his classical learning, his high spirit, the grace and urbanity of his
manners, were admitted by his enemies. His eulogists, unhappily, could
not pretend that his morals had escaped untainted from the widespread
contagion of that age. Though an enemy of Popery and of arbitrary
power, he had been averse to extreme courses, had been willing, when the
Exclusion Bill was lost, to agree to a compromise, and had never
been concerned in the illegal and imprudent schemes which had brought
discredit on the Whig party. But, though regretting part of the conduct
of his friends, he had not, on that account, failed to perform zealously
the most arduous and perilous duties of friendship. He had stood near
Russell at the bar, had parted from him on the sad morning of the
execution with close embraces and with many bitter tears, nay, had
offered to manage an escape at the hazard of his own life. [28] This
great nobleman now proposed that a day should be fixed for considering
the royal speech. It was contended, on the other side, that the
Lords, by voting thanks for the speech, had precluded themselves from
complaining of it. But this objection was treated with contempt by
Halifax. "Such thanks," he said with the sarcastic pleasantry in
which he excelled, "imply no approbation. We are thankful whenever our
gracious Sovereign deigns to speak to us. Especially thankful are we
when, as on the present occasion, he speaks out, and gives us fair
warning of what we are to suffer. " [29] Doctor Henry Compton, Bishop of
London, spoke strongly for the motion. Though not gifted with eminent
abilities, nor deeply versed in the learning of his profession, he
was always heard by the House with respect; for he was one of the few
clergymen who could, in that age, boast of noble blood. His own loyalty,
and the loyalty of his family, had been signally proved. His father,
the second Earl of Northampton, had fought bravely for King Charles the
First, and, surrounded by the parliamentary soldiers, had fallen, sword
in hand, refusing to give or take quarter. The Bishop himself, before he
was ordained, had borne arms in the Guards; and, though he generally did
his best to preserve the gravity and sobriety befitting a prelate, some
flashes of his military spirit would, to the last, occasionally break
forth. He had been entrusted with the religious education of the two
Princesses, and had acquitted himself of that important duty in a
manner which had satisfied all good Protestants, and had secured to him
considerable influence over the minds of his pupils, especially of the
Lady Anne. [30] He now declared that he was empowered to speak the sense
of his brethren, and that, in their opinion and in his own, the whole
civil and ecclesiastical constitution of the realm was in danger.

One of the most remarkable speeches of that day was made by a young man,
whose eccentric career was destined to amaze Europe. This was Charles
Mordaunt, Viscount Mordaunt, widely renowned, many years later, as Earl
of Peterborough. Already he had given abundant proofs of his courage,
of his capacity, and of that strange unsoundness of mind which made
his courage and capacity almost useless to his country. Already he had
distinguished himself as a wit and a scholar, as a soldier and a sailor.
He had even set his heart on rivalling Bourdaloue and Bossuet. Though an
avowed freethinker, he had sate up all night at sea to compose sermons,
and had with great difficulty been prevented from edifying the crew of
a man of war with his pious oratory. [31] He now addressed the House of
Peers, for the first time, with characteristic eloquence, sprightliness,
and audacity. He blamed the Commons for not having taken a bolder line.
"They have been afraid," he said, "to speak out. They have talked of
apprehensions and jealousies. What have apprehension and jealousy to do
here?