No More Learning

The
renowned University on which his genius had already begun to impress
a peculiar character, still plainly discernible after the lapse of a
hundred and sixty years, had sent him to the Convention; and he sate
there, in his modest greatness, the unobtrusive but unflinching friend
of civil and religious freedom.

The first act of the Commons was to choose a Speaker; and the choice
which they made indicated in a manner not to be mistaken their opinion
touching the great questions which they were about to decide. Down to
the very eve of the meeting, it had been understood that Seymour would
be placed in the chair. He had formerly sate there during several years.
He had great and various titles to consideration; descent, fortune,
knowledge, experience, eloquence. He had long been at the head of a
powerful band of members from the Western counties. Though a Tory, he
had in the last Parliament headed, with conspicuous ability and courage,
the opposition to Popery and arbitrary power. He had been among the
first gentlemen who had repaired to the Dutch head quarters at Exeter,
and had been the author of that association by which the Prince's
adherents had bound themselves to stand or fall together. But, a few
hours before the Houses met, a rumour was spread that Seymour was
against declaring the throne vacant. As soon, therefore, as the benches
had filled, the Earl of Wiltshire, who represented Hampshire, stood up,
and proposed that Powle should be Speaker. Sir Vere Fane, member for
Kent, seconded the motion. A plausible objection might have been raised;
for it was known that a petition was about to be presented against
Powle's return: but the general cry of the House called him to the
chair; and the Tories thought it prudent to acquiesce. [641] The mace
was then laid on the table; the list of members was called over; and the
names of the defaulters were noted.

Meanwhile the Peers, about a hundred in number, had met, had chosen
Halifax to be their Speaker, and had appointed several eminent lawyers
to perform the functions which, in regular Parliaments, belong to the
judges. There was, in the course of that day, frequent communication
between the Houses. They joined in requesting that the Prince would
continue to administer the government till he should hear further from
them, in expressing to him their gratitude for the deliverance which
he, under God, had wrought for the nation, and in directing that the
thirty-first of January should be observed as a day of thanksgiving for
that deliverance. [642]

Thus far no difference of opinion had appeared: but both sides were
preparing for the conflict. The Tories were strong in the Upper House,
and weak in the Lower; and they knew that, at such a conjuncture, the
House which should be the first to come to a resolution would have a
great advantage over the other. There was not the least chance that
the Commons would send up to the Lords a vote in favour of the plan
of Regency: but, if such a vote were sent down from the Lords to the
Commons, it was not absolutely impossible that many even of the Whig
representatives of the people might be disposed to acquiesce rather than
take the grave responsibility of causing discord and delay at a crisis
which required union and expedition. The Commons had determined that, on
Monday the twenty-eighth of January, they would take into consideration
the state of the nation. The Tory Lords therefore proposed, on Friday
the twenty-fifth, to enter instantly on the great business for which
they had been called together. But their motives were clearly discerned
and their tactics frustrated by Halifax, who, ever since his return
from Hungerford, had seen that the settlement of the government could be
effected on Whig principles only, and who had therefore, for the time,
allied himself closely with the Whigs. Devonshire moved that Tuesday the
twenty-ninth should be the day. "By that time," he said with more truth
than discretion, "we may have some lights from below which may be useful
for our guidance. " His motion was carried; but his language was severely
censured by some of his brother peers as derogatory to their order.
[643]

On the twenty-eighth the Commons resolved themselves into a committee of
the whole House. A member who had, more than thirty years before, been
one of Cromwell's Lords, Richard Hampden, son of the illustrious leader
of the Roundheads, and father of the unhappy man who had, by large
bribes and degrading submissions, narrowly escaped with life from the
vengeance of James, was placed in the chair, and the great debate began.

It was soon evident that an overwhelming majority considered James as no
longer King. Gilbert Dolben, son of the late Archbishop of York, was the
first who declared himself to be of that opinion. He was supported by
many members, particularly by the bold and vehement Wharton, by Sawyer,
whose steady opposition to the dispensing power had, in some measure,
atoned for old offences, by Maynard, whose voice, though so feeble with
age that it could not be heard on distant benches, still commanded the
respect of all parties, and by Somers, whose luminous eloquence and
varied stores of knowledge were on that day exhibited, for the first
time, within the walls of Parliament. The unblushing forehead and
voluble tongue of Sir William Williams were found on the same side.
Already he had been deeply concerned in the excesses both of the worst
of oppositions and of the worst of governments. He had persecuted
innocent Papists and innocent Protestants. He had been the patron of
Oates and the tool of Petre. His name was associated with seditious
violence which was remembered with regret and shame by all respectable
Whigs, and with freaks of despotism abhorred by all respectable Tories.
How men live under such infamy it is not easy to understand: but even
such infamy was not enough for Williams. He was not ashamed to attack
the fallen master to whom he had hired himself out for work which no
honest man in the Inns of Court would undertake, and from whom he had,
within six months, accepted a baronetcy as the reward of servility.

Only three members ventured to oppose themselves to what was evidently
the general sense of the assembly. Sir Christopher Musgrave, a Tory
gentleman of great weight and ability, hinted some doubts. Heneage Finch
let fall some expressions which were understood to mean that he wished
a negotiation to be opened with the King. This suggestion was so ill
received that he made haste to explain it away. He protested that he had
been misapprehended. He was convinced that, under such a prince, there
could be no security for religion, liberty, or property. To recall King
James, or to treat with him, would be a fatal course; but many who would
never consent that he should exercise the regal power had conscientious
scruples about depriving him of the royal title. There was one expedient
which would remove all difficulties, a Regency. This proposition found
so little favour that Finch did not venture to demand a division.
Richard Fanshaw, Viscount Fanshaw of the kingdom of Ireland, said a
few words in behalf of James, and recommended an adjournment: but the
recommendation was met by a general outcry. Member after member stood up
to represent the importance of despatch. Every moment, it was said,
was precious, the public anxiety was intense, trade was suspended. The
minority sullenly submitted, and suffered the predominant party to take
its own course.

What that course would be was not perfectly clear. For the majority was
made up of two classes. One class consisted of eager and vehement Whigs,
who, if they had been able to take their own course, would have given to
the proceedings of the Convention a decidedly revolutionary character.
The other class admitted that a revolution was necessary, but regarded
it as a necessary evil, and wished to disguise it, as much as possible,
under the show of legitimacy. The former class demanded a distinct
recognition of the right of subjects to dethrone bad princes. The latter
class desired to rid the country of one bad prince, without promulgating
any doctrine which might be abused for the purpose of weakening the
just and salutary authority of future monarchs. The former class dwelt
chiefly on the King's misgovernment; the latter on his flight. The
former class considered him as having forfeited his crown; the latter as
having resigned it. It was not easy to draw up any form of words which
would please all whose assent it was important to obtain; but at length,
out of many suggestions offered from different quarters, a resolution
was framed which gave general satisfaction. It was moved that King
James the Second, having endeavoured to subvert the constitution of the
kingdom by breaking the original contract between King and people, and,
by the advice of Jesuits and other wicked persons, having violated the
fundamental laws, and having withdrawn himself out of the kingdom, had
abdicated the government, and that the throne had thereby become vacant.

This resolution has been many times subjected to criticism as minute and
severe as was ever applied to any sentence written by man, and perhaps
there never was a sentence written by man which would bear such
criticism less. That a King by grossly abusing his power may forfeit it
is true. That a King, who absconds without making any provision for
the administration, and leaves his people in a state of anarchy, may,
without any violent straining of language, be said to have abdicated his
functions is also true. But no accurate writer would affirm that long
continued misgovernment and desertion, added together, make up an act of
abdication. It is evident too that the mention of the Jesuits and other
evil advisers of James weakens, instead of strengthening, the case
against him. For surely more indulgence is due to a man misled by
pernicious counsel than to a man who goes wrong from the mere impulse of
his own mind. It is idle, however, to examine these memorable words as
we should examine a chapter of Aristotle or of Hobbes. Such words are
to be considered, not as words, but as deeds. If they effect that which
they are intended to effect, they are rational, though they may be
contradictory. It they fail of attaining their end, they are absurd,
though they carry demonstration with them. Logic admits of no
compromise. The essense of politics is compromise. It is therefore
not strange that some of the most important and most useful political
instruments in the world should be among the most illogical compositions
that ever were penned. The object of Somers, of Maynard, and of the
other eminent men who shaped this celebrated motion was, not to leave
to posterity a model of definition and partition, but to make the
restoration of a tyrant impossible, and to place on the throne a
sovereign under whom law and liberty might be secure. This object they
attained by using language which, in a philosophical treatise, would
justly be reprehended as inexact and confused. They cared little whether
their major agreed with their conclusion, if the major secured two
hundred votes, and the conclusion two hundred more. In fact the one
beauty of the resolution is its inconsistency. There was a phrase for
every subdivision of the majority. The mention of the original contract
gratified the disciples of Sidney. The word abdication conciliated
politicians of a more timid school. There were doubtless many fervent
Protestants who were pleased with the censure cast on the Jesuits. To
the real statesman the single important clause was that which declared
the throne vacant; and, if that clause could be carried, he cared little
by what preamble it might be introduced. The force which was thus united
made all resistance hopeless. The motion was adopted by the Committee
without a division. It was ordered that the report should be instantly
made. Powle returned to the chair: the mace was laid on the table:
Hampden brought up the resolution: the House instantly agreed to it, and
ordered him to carry it to the Lords. [644]

On the following morning the Lords assembled early. The benches both of
the spiritual and of the temporal peers were crowded. Hampden appeared
at the bar, and put the resolution of the Commons into the hands of
Halifax. The Upper House then resolved itself into a committee; and
Danby took the chair. The discussion was soon interrupted by the
reappearance of Hampden with another message. The House resumed and was
informed that the Commons had just voted it inconsistent with the safety
and welfare of this Protestant nation to be governed by a Popish King.
To this resolution, irreconcilable as it obviously was with the doctrine
of indefeasible hereditary right, the Peers gave an immediate and
unanimous assent. The principle which was thus affirmed has always, down
to our own time, been held sacred by all Protestant statesmen, and has
never been considered by any reasonable Roman Catholic as objectionable.
If, indeed, our sovereigns were, like the Presidents of the United
States, mere civil functionaries, it would not be easy to vindicate such
a restriction. But the headship of the English Church is annexed to the
English crown; and there is no intolerance in saying that a Church
ought not to be subjected to a head who regards her as schismatical and
heretical. [645]

After this short interlude the Lords again went into committee. The
Tories insisted that their plan should be discussed before the vote of
the Commons which declared the throne vacant was considered. This was
conceded to them; and the question was put whether a Regency, exercising
kingly power during the life of James, in his name, would be the best
expedient for preserving the laws and liberties of the nation?

The contest was long and animated. The chief speakers in favour of a
Regency were Rochester and Nottingham. Halifax and Danby led the other
side. The Primate, strange to say, did not make his appearance, though
earnestly importuned by the Tory peers to place himself at their head.
His absence drew on him many contumelious censures; nor have even his
eulogists been able to find any explanation of it which raises his
character. [646] The plan of Regency was his own. He had, a few days
before, in a paper written with his own hand, pronounced that plan to be
clearly the best that could be adopted. The deliberations of the
Lords who supported that plan had been carried on under his roof. His
situation made it his clear duty to declare publicly what he thought.
Nobody can suspect him of personal cowardice or of vulgar cupidity.
It was probably from a nervous fear of doing wrong that, at this great
conjuncture, he did nothing: but he should have known that, situated as
he was, to do nothing was to do wrong. A man who is too scrupulous to
take on himself a grave responsibility at an important crisis ought to
be too scrupulous to accept the place of first minister of the Church
and first peer of the realm.

It is not strange, however, that Sancroft's mind should have been ill at
case; for he could hardly be blind to the obvious truth that the scheme
which he had recommended to his friends was utterly inconsistent with
all that he and his brethren had been teaching during many years. That
the King had a divine and indefeasible right to the regal power, and
that the regal power, even when most grossly abused, could not without
sin, be resisted, was the doctrine in which the Anglican Church had long
gloried. Did this doctrine then really mean only that the King had a
divine and indefeasible right to have his effigy and name cut on a seal
which was to be daily employed in despite of him for the purpose of
commissioning his enemies to levy war on him, and of sending his friends
to the gallows for obeying him? Did the whole duty of a good subject
consist in using the word King? If so, Fairfax at Naseby and Bradshaw in
the High Court of justice had performed all the duty of good subjects.
For Charles had been designated by the generals who commanded against
him, and even by the judges who condemned him, as King. Nothing in the
conduct of the Long Parliament had been more severely blamed by the
Church than the ingenious device of using the name of Charles against
himself. Every one of her ministers had been required to sign a
declaration condemning as traitorous the fiction by which the authority
of the sovereign had been separated from his person. [647] Yet this
traitorous fiction was now considered by the Primate and by many of his
suffragans as the only basis on which they could, in strict conformity
with Christian principles, erect a government.

The distinction which Sancroft had borrowed from the Roundheads of
the preceding generation subverted from the foundation that system of
politics which the Church and the Universities pretended to have learned
from Saint Paul. The Holy Spirit, it had been a thousand times repeated,
had commanded the Romans to be subject to Nero. The meaning of the
precept now appeared to be only that the Romans were to call Nero
Augustus. They were perfectly at liberty to chase him beyond the
Euphrates, to leave him a pensioner on the bounty of the Parthians,
to withstand him by force if he attempted to return, to punish all who
aided him or corresponded with him, and to transfer the Tribunitian
power and the Consular power, the Presidency of the Senate and the
command of the Legions, to Galba or Vespasian.

The analogy which the Archbishop imagined that he had discovered between
the case of a wrongheaded King and the case of a lunatic King will not
bear a moment's examination. It was plain that James was not in
that state of mind in which, if he had been a country gentleman or a
merchant, any tribunal would have held him incapable of executing a
contract or a will. He was of unsound mind only as all bad Kings are of
unsound mind; as Charles the First had been of unsound mind when he went
to seize the five members; as Charles the Second had been of unsound
mind when he concluded the treaty of Dover. If this sort of mental
unsoundness did not justify subjects in withdrawing their obedience from
princes, the plan of a Regency was evidently indefensible. If this
sort of mental unsoundness did justify subjects in withdrawing their
obedience from princes, the doctrine of nonresistance was completely
given up; and all that any moderate Whig had ever contended for was
fully admitted.

As to the oath of allegiance about which Sancroft and his disciples were
so anxious, one thing at least is clear, that, whoever might be right,
they were wrong. The Whigs held that, in the oath of allegiance, certain
conditions were implied, that the King had violated these conditions,
and that the oath had therefore lost its force. But, if the Whig
doctrine were false, if the oath were still binding, could men of sense
really believe that they escaped the guilt of perjury by voting for a
Regency? Could they affirm that they bore true allegiance to James
while they were in defiance of his protestations made before all Europe,
authorising another person to receive the royal revenues, to summon and
prorogue parliaments, to create Dukes and Earls, to name Bishops and
judges, to pardon offenders, to command the forces of the state, and to
conclude treaties with foreign powers? Had Pascal been able to find, in
all the folios of the Jesuitical casuists, a sophism more contemptible
than that which now, as it seemed, sufficed to quiet the consciences of
the fathers of the Anglican Church?

Nothing could be more evident than that the plan of Regency could be
defended only on Whig principles. Between the rational supporters of
that plan and the majority of the House of Commons there could be no
dispute as to the question of right. All that remained was a question
of expediency. And would any statesman seriously contend that it was
expedient to constitute a government with two heads, and to give to one
of those heads regal power without regal dignity, and to the other regal
dignity without regal power? It was notorious that such an arrangement,
even when made necessary by the infancy or insanity of a prince, had
serious disadvantages. That times of Regency were times of weakness,
of trouble and of disaster, was a truth proved by the whole history of
England, of France, and of Scotland, and had almost become a proverb.
Yet, in a case of infancy or of insanity, the King was at least passive.
He could not actively counterwork the Regent. What was now proposed was
that England should have two first magistrate, of ripe age and sound
mind, waging with each other an irreconcilable war. It was absurd to
talk of leaving James merely the kingly name, and depriving him of all
the kingly power. For the name was a part of the power. The word King
was a word of conjuration. It was associated in the minds of many
Englishmen with the idea of a mysterious character derived from above,
and in the minds of almost all Englishmen with the idea of legitimate
and venerable authority. Surely, if the title carried with it such
power, those who maintained that James ought to be deprived of all power
could not deny that he ought to be deprived of the title.

And how long was the anomalous government planned by the genius of
Sancroft to last? Every argument which could be urged for setting it up
at all might be urged with equal force for retaining it to the end of
time. If the boy who had been carried into France was really born of the
Queen, he would hereafter inherit the divine and indefeasible right to
be called King. The same right would very probably be transmitted from
Papist to Papist through the whole of the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries. Both the Houses had unanimously resolved that England should
not be governed by a Papist. It might well be, therefore, that, from
generation to generation, Regents would continue to administer the
government in the name of vagrant and mendicant Kings. There was no
doubt that the Regents must be appointed by Parliament. The effect,
therefore, of this contrivance, a contrivance intended to preserve
unimpaired the sacred principle of hereditary monarchy, would be that
the monarchy would become really elective.

Another unanswerable reason was urged against Sancroft's plan. There was
in the statute book a law which had been passed soon after the close of
the long and bloody contest between the Houses of York and Lancaster,
and which had been framed for the purpose of averting calamities such as
the alternate victories of those Houses had brought on the nobility and
gentry of the realm. By this law it was provided that no person should,
by adhering to a King in possession, incur the penalties of treason.
When the regicides were brought to trial after the Restoration, some of
them insisted that their case lay within the equity of this act. They
had obeyed, they said, the government which was in possession, and were
therefore not traitors. The Judges admitted that this would have been
a good defence if the prisoners had acted under the authority of an
usurper who, like Henry the Fourth and Richard the Third, bore the regal
title, but declared that such a defence could not avail men who had
indicted, sentenced, and executed one who, in the indictment, in the
sentence, and in the death warrant, was designated as King. It followed,
therefore, that whoever should support a Regent in opposition to James
would run great risk of being hanged, drawn, and quartered, if ever
James should recover supreme power; but that no person could, without
such a violation of law as Jeffreys himself would hardly venture to
commit, be punished for siding with a King who was reigning, though
wrongfully, at Whitehall, against a rightful King who was in exile at
Saint Germains. [648]

It should seem that these arguments admit of no reply; and they were
doubtless urged with force by Danby, who had a wonderful power of
making every subject which he treated clear to the dullest mind, and by
Halifax, who, in fertility of thought and brilliancy of diction, had no
rival among the orators of that age. Yet so numerous and powerful were
the Tories in the Upper House that, notwithstanding the weakness of
their case, the defection of their leader, and the ability of their
opponents, they very nearly carried the day. A hundred Lords divided.
Forty-nine voted for a Regency, fifty-one against it. In the minority
were the natural children of Charles, the brothers in law of James, the
Dukes of Somerset and Ormond, the Archbishop of York and eleven Bishops.
No prelate voted in the majority except Compton and Trelawney. [649]

It was near nine in the evening before the House rose. The following day
was the thirtieth of January, the anniversary of the death of Charles
the First. The great body of the Anglican clergy had, during many years,
thought it a sacred duty to inculcate on that day the doctrines of
nonresistance and passive obedience. Their old sermons were now of
little use; and many divines were even in doubt whether they could
venture to read the whole Liturgy. The Lower House had declared that the
throne was vacant. The Upper had not yet expressed any opinion. It was
therefore not easy to decide whether the prayers for the sovereign ought
to be used. Every officiating minister took his own course. In most of
the churches of the capital the petitions for James were omitted: but
at Saint Margaret's, Sharp, Dean of Norwich, who had been requested
to preach before the Commons, not only read to their faces the whole
service as it stood in the book, but, before his sermon, implored, in
his own words, a blessing on the King, and, towards the close of his
discourse, declaimed against the Jesuitical doctrine that princes might
lawfully be deposed by their subjects. The Speaker, that very afternoon,
complained to the House of this affront. "You pass a vote one day," he
said; "and on the next day it is contradicted from the pulpit in your
own hearing. " Sharp was strenuously defended by the Tories, and had
friends even among the Whigs: for it was not forgotten that he had
incurred serious danger in the evil times by the courage with which, in
defiance of the royal injunction, he had preached against Popery. Sir
Christopher Musgrave very ingeniously remarked that the House had not
ordered the resolution which declared the throne vacant to be published.
Sharp, therefore, was not only not bound to know anything of that
resolution, but could not have taken notice of it without a breach of
privilege for which he might have been called to the bar and reprimanded
on his knees. The majority felt that it was not wise at that conjuncture
to quarrel with the clergy; and the subject was suffered to drop. [650]

While the Commons were discussing Sharp's sermon, the Lords had again
gone into a committee on the state of the nation, and had ordered the
resolution which pronounced the throne vacant to be read clause by
clause.

The first expression on which a debate arose was that which recognised
the original contract between King and people. It was not to be
expected that the Tory peers would suffer a phrase which contained the
quintessence of Whiggism to pass unchallenged. A division took place;
and it was determined by fifty-three votes to forty-six that the words
should stand.

The severe censure passed by the Commons on the administration of James
was next considered, and was approved without one dissentient voice.
Some verbal objections were made to the proposition that James had
abdicated the government. It was urged that he might more correctly be
said to have deserted it. This amendment was adopted, it should seem,
with scarcely any debate, and without a division. By this time it was
late; and the Lords again adjourned. [651]

Up to this moment the small body of peers which was under the guidance
of Danby had acted in firm union with Halifax and the Whigs. The effect
of this union had been that the plan of Regency had been rejected, and
the doctrine of the original contract affirmed. The proposition that
James had ceased to be King had been the rallying point of the two
parties which had made up the majority. But from that point their path
diverged. The next question to be decided was whether the throne
was vacant; and this was a question not merely verbal, but of grave
practical importance. If the throne was vacant, the Estates of the Realm
might place William in it. If it was not vacant, he could succeed to it
only after his wife, after Anne, and after Anne's posterity.
It was, according to the followers of Danby, an established maxim that
our country could not be, even for a moment, without a rightful prince.
The man might die; but the magistrate was immortal. The man might
abdicate; but the magistrate was irremoveable. If, these politicians
said, we once admit that the throne is vacant, we admit that it is
elective. The sovereign whom we may place on it will be a sovereign, not
after the English, but after the Polish, fashion. Even if we choose the
very person who would reign by right of birth, still that person will
reign not by right of birth, but in virtue of our choice, and will take
as a gift what ought to be regarded as an inheritance. That salutary
reverence with which the blood royal and the order of primogeniture have
hitherto been regarded will be greatly diminished. Still more serious
will the evil be, if we not only fill the throne by election, but fill
it with a prince who has doubtless the qualities of a great and good
ruler, and who has wrought a wonderful deliverance for us, but who is
not first nor even second in the order of succession. If we once say
that, merit, however eminent, shall be a title to the crown, we disturb
the very foundations of our polity, and furnish a precedent of which
every ambitious warrior or statesman who may have rendered any great
service to the public will be tempted to avail himself. This danger we
avoid if we logically follow out the principles of the constitution to
their consequences. There has been a demise of the crown. At the instant
of the demise the next heir became our lawful sovereign. We consider the
Princess of Orange as next heir; and we hold that she ought, without any
delay, to be proclaimed, what she already is, our Queen.

The Whigs replied that it was idle to apply ordinary rules to a country
in a state of revolution, that the great question now depending was not
to be decided by the saws of pedantic Templars, and that, if it were
to be so decided, such saws might be quoted on one side as well as the
other. If it were a legal maxim that the throne could never be vacant,
it was also a legal maxim that a living man could have no heir. James
was still living. How then could the Princess of Orange be his heir?
The truth was that the laws of England had made full provision for the
succession when the power of a sovereign and his natural life terminated
together, but had made no provision for the very rare cases in which his
power terminated before the close of his natural life; and with one
of those very rare cases the Convention had now to deal. That James no
longer filled the throne both Houses had pronounced. Neither common law
nor statute law designated any person as entitled to fill the throne
between his demise and his decease. It followed that the throne was
vacant, and that the Houses might invite the Prince of Orange to fill
it. That he was not next in order of birth was true: but this was
no disadvantage: on the contrary, it was a positive recommendation.
Hereditary monarchy was a good political institution, but was by no
means more sacred than other good political institutions. Unfortunately,
bigoted and servile theologians had turned it into a religious mystery,
almost as awful and as incomprehensible as transubstantiation itself.
To keep the institution, and yet to get rid of the abject and noxious
superstitions with which it had of late years been associated and which
had made it a curse instead of a blessing to society, ought to be
the first object of English statesmen; and that object would be best
attained by slightly deviating for a time from the general rule of
descent, and by then returning to it.

Many attempts were made to prevent an open breach between the party of
the Prince and the party of the Princess. A great meeting was held at
the Earl of Devonshire's House, and the dispute was warm. Halifax was
the chief speaker for William, Danby for Mary. Of the mind of Mary Danby
knew nothing. She had been some time expected in London, but had been
detained in Holland, first by masses of ice which had blocked up the
rivers, and, when the thaw came, by strong westerly winds. Had she
arrived earlier the dispute would probably have been at once quieted.
Halifax on the other side had no authority to say anything in William's
name. The Prince, true to his promise that he would leave the settlement
of the government to the Convention, had maintained an impenetrable
reserve, and had not suffered any word, look, or gesture, indicative
either of satisfaction or of displeasure, to escape him. One of his
countrymen, who had a large share of his confidence, had been invited
to the meeting, and was earnestly pressed by the Peers to give them some
information. He long excused himself. At last he so far yielded to their
urgency as to say, "I can only guess at His Highness's mind. If you wish
to know what I guess, I guess that he would not like to be his wife's
gentleman usher: but I know nothing. " "I know something now, however,"
said Danby. "I know enough, and too much. " He then departed; and the
assembly broke up. [652]

On the thirty-first of January the debate which had terminated thus in
private was publicly renewed in the House of Peers. That day had been
fixed for the national thanksgiving. An office had been drawn up for
the occasion by several Bishops, among whom were Ken and Sprat. It is
perfectly free both from the adulation and from the malignity by which
such compositions were in that age too often deformed, and sustains,
better perhaps than any occasional service which has been framed during
two centuries, a comparison with that great model of chaste, lofty, and
pathetic eloquence, the Book of Common Prayer. The Lords went in the
morning to Westminster Abbey. The Commons had desired Burnet to preach
before them at Saint Margaret's. He was not likely to fall into the same
error which had been committed in the same place on the preceding day.
His vigorous and animated discourse doubtless called forth the loud hums
of his auditors. It was not only printed by command of the House, but
was translated into French for the edification of foreign Protestants.
[653] The day closed with the festivities usual on such occasions. The
whole town shone brightly with fireworks and bonfires: the roar of
guns and the pealing of bells lasted till the night was far spent; but,
before the lights were extinct and the streets silent, an event had
taken place which threw a damp on the public joy.

The Peers had repaired from the Abbey to their house, and had resumed
the discussion on the state of the nation. The last words of the
resolution of the Commons were taken into consideration; and it soon
became clear that the majority was not disposed to assent to those
words. To near fifty Lords who held that the regal title still belonged
to James were now added seven or eight who held that it had already
devolved on Mary. The Whigs, finding themselves outnumbered, tried to
compromise the dispute. They proposed to omit the words which pronounced
the throne vacant, and simply to declare the Prince and Princess King
and Queen. It was manifest that such a declaration implied, though it
did not expressly affirm, all that the Tories were unwilling to concede.
For nobody could pretend that William had succeeded to the regal office
by right of birth. To pass a resolution acknowledging him as King was
therefore an act of election; and how could there be an election without
a vacancy? The proposition of the Whig Lords was rejected by fifty-two
votes to forty-seven. The question was then put whether the throne was
vacant. The contents were only forty-one: the noncontents fifty-five. Of
the minority thirty-six protested. [654]

During the two following days London was in an unquiet and anxious
state. The Tories began to hope that they might be able again to bring
forward their favourite plan of Regency with better success. Perhaps
the Prince himself, when he found that he had no chance of wearing
the crown, might prefer Sancroft's scheme to Danby's. It was better
doubtless to be a King than to be a Regent: but it was better to be a
Regent than to be a gentleman usher. On the other side the lower and
fiercer class of Whigs, the old emissaries of Shaftesbury, the old
associates of College, began to stir in the City. Crowds assembled
in Palace Yard, and held threatening language. Lord Lovelace, who was
suspected of having encouraged these assemblages, informed the Peers
that he was charged with a petition requesting them instantly to declare
the Prince and Princess of Orange King and Queen. He was asked by whom
the petition was signed. "There are no hands to it yet," he answered;
"but, when I bring it here next, there shall be hands enough. " This
menace alarmed and disgusted his own party. The leading Whigs were, in
truth, even more anxious than the Tories that the deliberations of the
Convention should be perfectly free, and that it should not be in the
power of any adherent of James to allege that either House had acted
under force. A petition, similar to that which had been entrusted to
Lovelace, was brought into the House of Commons, but was contemptuously
rejected. Maynard was foremost in protesting against the attempt of the
rabble in the streets to overawe the Estates of the Realm. William
sent for Lovelace, expostulated with him strongly, and ordered the
magistrates to act with vigour against all unlawful assemblies. [655]
Nothing in the history of our revolution is more deserving of admiration
and of imitation than the manner in which the two parties in the
Convention, at the very moment at which their disputes ran highest,
joined like one man to resist the dictation of the mob of the capital.

But, though the Whigs were fully determined to maintain order and to
respect the freedom of debate, they were equally determined to make no
concession. On Saturday the second of February the Commons, without a
division, resolved to adhere to their resolution as it originally stood.
James, as usual, came to the help of his enemies. A letter from him to
the Convention had just arrived in London. It had been transmitted to
Preston by the apostate Melfort, who was now high in favour at Saint
Germains. The name of Melfort was an abomination to every Churchman.
That he was still a confidential minister was alone sufficient to prove
that his master's folly and perverseness were incurable. No member of
either House ventured to propose that a paper which came from such a
quarter should be read. The contents, however, were well known to all
the town. His Majesty exhorted the Lords and Commons not to despair of
his clemency, and graciously assured them that he would pardon those who
had betrayed him, some few excepted, whom he did not name. How was
it possible to do any thing for a prince who, vanquished, deserted,
banished, living on alms, told those who were the arbiters of his fate
that, if they would set him on his throne again, he would hang only a
few of them? [656]

The contest between the two branches of the legislature lasted some days
longer. On Monday the fourth of February the Peers resolved that they
would insist on their amendments but a protest to which thirty-nine
names were subscribed was entered on the journals. [657] On the
following day the Tories determined to try their strength in the Lower
House. They mustered there in great force. A motion was made to agree to
the amendments of the Lords. Those who were for the plan of Sancroft
and those who were for the plan of Danby divided together; but they were
beaten by two hundred and eighty-two votes to a hundred and fifty-one.
The House then resolved to request a free conference with the Lords.
[658]

At the same time strenuous efforts were making without the walls
of Parliament to bring the dispute between the two branches of the
legislature to a close. Burnet thought that the importance of the crisis
justified him in publishing the great secret which the Princess had
confided to him. He knew, he said, from her own lips, that it had long
been her full determination, even if she came to the throne in the
regular course of descent, to surrender her power, with the sanction of
Parliament, into the hands of her husband. Danby received from her an
earnest, and almost angry, reprimand. She was, she wrote, the Prince's
wife; she had no other wish than to be subject to him; the most
cruel injury that could be done to her would be to set her up as his
competitor; and she never could regard any person who took such a course
as her true friend. [659] The Tories had still one hope. Anne might
insist on her own rights, and on those of her children. No effort was
spared to stimulate her ambition, and to alarm her conscience. Her uncle
Clarendon was especially active. A few weeks only had elapsed since
the hope of wealth and greatness had impelled him to bely the boastful
professions of his whole life, to desert the royal cause, to join with
the Wildmans and Fergusons, nay, to propose that the King should be
sent a prisoner to a foreign land and immured in a fortress begirt
by pestilential marshes. The lure which had produced this strange
transformation was the Viceroyalty of Ireland. Soon, however, it
appeared that the proselyte had little chance of obtaining the splendid
prize on which his heart was set. He found that others were consulted
on Irish affairs. His advice was never asked, and, when obtrusively and
importunately offered, was coldly received. He repaired many times to
Saint James's Palace, but could scarcely obtain a word or a look. One
day the Prince was writing, another day he wanted fresh air and must
ride in the Park; on a third he was closeted with officers on military
business and could see nobody. Clarendon saw that he was not likely to
gain anything by the sacrifice of his principles, and determined to take
them back again. In December ambition had converted him into a rebel.
In January disappointment reconverted him into a royalist. The uneasy
consciousness that he had not been a consistent Tory gave a peculiar
acrimony to his Toryism. [660] In the House of Lords he had done all in
his power to prevent a settlement. He now exerted, for the same end,
all his influence over the Princess Anne. But his influence over her
was small indeed when compared with that of the Churchills, who wisely
called to their help two powerful allies, Tillotson, who, as a spiritual
director, had, at that time, immense authority, and Lady Russell, whose
noble and gentle virtues, proved by the most cruel of all trials, had
gained for her the reputation of a saint. The Princess of Denmark, it
was soon known, was willing that William should reign for life; and it
was evident that to defend the cause of the daughters of James against
themselves was a hopeless task. [661]

And now William thought that the time had come when he ought to explain
himself. He accordingly sent for Halifax, Danby, Shrewsbury, and some
other political leaders of great note, and, with that air of stoical
apathy under which he had, from a boy, been in the habit of concealing
his strongest emotions, addressed to them a few deeply meditated and
weighty words.

He had hitherto, he said, remained silent; he had used neither
solicitation nor menace: he had not even suffered a hint of his opinions
or wishes to get abroad: but a crisis had now arrived at which it was
necessary for him to declare his intentions. He had no right and no wish
to dictate to the Convention. All that he claimed was the privilege of
declining any office which he felt that he could not hold with honour to
himself and with benefit to the public.

A strong party was for a Regency. It was for the Houses to determine
whether such an arrrangement would be for the interest of the nation.
He had a decided opinion on that point; and he thought it right to say
distinctly that he would not be Regent.

Another party was for placing the Princess on the throne, and for giving
to him, during her life, the title of King, and such a share in the
administration as she might be pleased to allow him. He could not stoop
to such a post. He esteemed the Princess as much as it was possible for
man to esteem woman: but not even from her would he accept a subordinate
and a precarious place in the government. He was so made that he could
not submit to be tied to the apron strings even of the best of wives.
He did not desire to take any part in English affairs; but, if he did
consent to take a part, there was one part only which he could usefully
or honourably take. If the Estates offered him the crown for life, he
would accept it. If not, he should, without repining, return to his
native country. He concluded by saying that he thought it reasonable
that the Lady Anne and her posterity should be preferred in the
succession to any children whom he might have by any other wife than the
Lady Mary. [662]

The meeting broke up; and what the Prince had said was in a few hours
known all over London. That he must be King was now clear. The
only question was whether he should hold the regal dignity alone or
conjointly with the Princess. Halifax and a few other politicians,
who saw in a strong light the danger of dividing the supreme executive
authority, thought it desirable that, during William's life, Mary should
be only Queen Consort and a subject. But this arrangement, though much
might doubtless be said for it in argument, shocked the general feeling
even of those Englishmen who were most attached to the Prince. His wife
had given an unprecedented proof of conjugal submission and affection;
and the very least return that could be made to her would be to bestow
on her the dignity of Queen Regnant. William Herbert, one of the most
zealous of the Prince's adherents, was so much exasperated that he
sprang out of the bed to which he was confined by gout, and vehemently
declared that he never would have drawn a sword in His Highness's cause
if he had foreseen that so shameful an arrangement would be made. No
person took the matter up so eagerly as Burnet. His blood boiled at
the wrong done to his kind patroness. He expostulated vehemently with
Bentinck, and begged to be permitted to resign the chaplainship. "While
I am His Highness's servant," said the brave and honest divine,
"it would be unseemly in me to oppose any plan which may have his
countenance. I therefore desire to be set free, that I may fight the
Princess's battle with every faculty that God has given me. " Bentinck
prevailed on Burnet to defer an open declaration of hostilities till
William's resolution should be distinctly known. In a few hours the
scheme which had excited so much resentment was entirely given up; and
all those who considered James as no longer king were agreed as to the
way in which the throne must be filled. William and Mary must be King
and Queen. The heads of both must appear together on the coin: writs
must run in the names of both: both must enjoy all the personal
dignities and immunities of royalty: but the administration, which could
not be safely divided, must belong to William alone. [663]

And now the time arrived for the free conference between the Houses. The
managers for the Lords, in their robes, took their seats along one side
of the table in the Painted Chamber: but the crowd of members of the
House of Commons on the other side was so great that the gentlemen who
were to argue the question in vain tried to get through. It was not
without much difficulty and long delay that the Serjeant at Arms was
able to clear a passage. [664]

At length the discussion began. A full report of the speeches on both
sides has come down to us. There are few students of history who have
not taken up that report with eager curiosity and laid it down with
disappointment. The question between the Houses was argued on both
sides as a question of law. The objections which the Lords made, to the
resolution of the Commons were verbal and technical, and were met by
verbal and technical answers. Somers vindicated the use of the word
abdication by quotations from Grotius and Brissonius, Spigelius
and Bartolus. When he was challenged to show any authority for the
proposition that England could be without a sovereign, he produced the
Parliament roll of the year 1399, in which it was expressly set forth
that the kingly office was vacant during the interval between the
resignation of Richard the Second and the enthroning of Henry the
Fourth. The Lords replied by producing the Parliament roll of the first
year of Edward the Fourth, from which it appeared that the record of
1399 had been solemnly annulled. They therefore maintained that the
precedent on which Somers relied was no longer valid. Treby then came to
Somers's assistance, and brought forth the Parliament roll of the first
year of Henry the Seventh, which repealed the act of Edward the Fourth,
and consequently restored the validity of the record of 1399. After
a colloquy of several hours the disputants separated. [665] The Lords
assembled in their own house. It was well understood that they were
about to yield, and that the conference had been a mere form. The
friends of Mary had found that, by setting her up as her husband's
rival, they had deeply displeased her. Some of the Peers who had
formerly voted for a Regency had determined to absent themselves or to
support the resolution of the Lower House. Their opinion, they said,
was unchanged: but any government was better than no government, and the
country could not bear a prolongation of this agony of suspense. Even
Nottingham, who, in the Painted Chamber, had taken the lead against the
Commons, declared that, though his own conscience would not suffer him
to give way, he was glad that the consciences of other men were less
squeamish. Several Lords who had not yet voted in the Convention had
been induced to attend; Lord Lexington, who had just hurried over
from the Continent; the Earl of Lincoln, who was half mad; the Earl of
Carlisle, who limped in on crutches; and the Bishop of Durham, who had
been in hiding and had intended to fly beyond sea, but had received an
intimation that, if he would vote for the settling of the government,
his conduct in the Ecclesiastical Commission should not be remembered
against him. Danby, desirous to heal the schism which he had caused,
exhorted the House, in a speech distinguished by even more than his
usual ability, not to persevere in a contest which might be fatal to
the state. He was strenuously supported by Halifax. The spirit of the
opposite party was quelled. When the question was put whether King James
had abdicated the government only three lords said Not Content. On the
question whether the throne was vacant, a division was demanded.
The Contents were sixty-two; the Not Contents forty-seven. It was
immediately proposed and carried, without a division, that the Prince
and Princess of Orange should be declared King and Queen of England.
[666]

Nottingham then moved that the wording of the oaths of allegiance
and supremacy should be altered in such a way that they might be
conscientiously taken by persons who, like himself, disapproved of what
the Convention had done, and yet fully purposed to be loyal and dutiful
subjects of the new sovereigns. To this proposition no objection was
made. Indeed there can be little doubt that there was an understanding
on the subject between the Whig leaders and those Tory Lords whose votes
had turned the scale on the last division. The new oaths were sent
down to the Commons, together with the resolution that the Prince and
Princess should be declared King and Queen. [667]

It was now known to whom the crown would be given. On what conditions it
should be given, still remained to be decided. The Commons had appointed
a committee to consider what steps it might be advisable to take,
in order to secure law and liberty against the aggressions of future
sovereigns; and the committee had made a report. [668] This report
recommended, first, that those great principles of the constitution
which had been violated by the dethroned King should be solemnly
asserted, and, secondly, that many new laws should be enacted, for the
purpose of curbing the prerogative and purifying the administration of
justice. Most of the suggestions of the committee were excellent; but it
was utterly impossible that the Houses could, in a month, or even in
a year, deal properly with matters so numerous, so various, and so
important. It was proposed, among other things, that the militia
should be remodelled, that the power which the sovereign possessed of
proroguing and dissolving Parliaments should be restricted; that the
duration of Parliaments should be limited; that the royal pardon should
no longer be pleadable to a parliamentary impeachment; that toleration
should be granted to Protestant Dissenters; that the crime of high
treason should be more precisely defined; that trials for high treason
should be conducted in a manner more favourable to innocence; that the
judges should hold their places for life; that the mode of appointing
Sheriffs should be altered; that juries should be nominated in such a
way as might exclude partiality and corruption; that the practice of
filing criminal informations in the King's Bench should be abolished;
that the Court of Chancery should be reformed; that the fees of public
functionaries should be regulated; and that the law of Quo Warranto
should be amended. It was evident that cautious and deliberate
legislation on these subjects must be the work of more than one
laborious session; and it was equally evident that hasty and crude
legislation on subjects so grave could not but produce new grievances,
worse than those which it might remove. If the committee meant to give a
list of the reforms which ought to be accomplished before the throne was
filled, the list was absurdly long. If, on the other hand, the committee
meant to give a list of all the reforms which the legislature would do
well to make in proper season, the list was strangely imperfect. Indeed,
as soon as the report had been read, member after member rose to suggest
some addition. It was moved and carried that the selling of offices
should be prohibited, that the Habeas Corpus Act should be made more
efficient, and that the law of Mandamus should be revised. One gentleman
fell on the chimneymen, another on the excisemen; and the House resolved
that the malpractices of both chimneymen and excisemen should be
restrained. It is a most remarkable circumstance that, while the whole
political, military, judicial, and fiscal system of the kingdom was thus
passed in review, not a single representative of the people proposed the
repeal of the statute which subjected the press to a censorship. It was
not yet understood, even by the most enlightened men, that the liberty
of discussion is the chief safeguard of all other liberties. [669]

The House was greatly perplexed. Some orators vehemently said that too
much time had already been lost, and that the government ought to be
settled without the delay of a day. Society was unquiet: trade was
languishing: the English colony in Ireland was in imminent danger of
perishing, a foreign war was impending: the exiled King might, in a few
weeks, be at Dublin with a French army, and from Dublin he might soon
cross to Chester.