No More Learning

Mordaunt, exulting in the prospect of adventures
irresistibly attractive to his fiery nature, was among the foremost
volunteers. Fletcher of Saltoun had learned, while guarding the frontier
of Christendom against the infidels, that there was once more a hope of
deliverance for his country, and had hastened to offer the help of his
sword. Sir Patrick Hume, who had, since his flight from Scotland, lived
humbly at Utrecht, now emerged from his obscurity: but, fortunately, his
eloquence could, on this occasion, do little mischief; for the Prince
of Orange was by no means disposed to be the lieutenant of a debating
society such as that which had ruined the enterprise of Argyle. The
subtle and restless Wildman, who had some time before found England an
unsafe residence, and had retired to Germany, now repaired from Germany
to the Prince's court. There too was Carstairs, a presbyterian minister
from Scotland, who in craft and courage had no superior among the
politicians of his age. He had been entrusted some years before by Fagel
with important secrets, and had resolutely kept them in spite of the
most horrible torments which could be inflicted by boot and thumbscrew.
His rare fortitude had earned for him as large a share of the Prince's
confidence and esteem as was granted to any man except Bentinck. [478]
Ferguson could not remain quiet when a revolution was preparing. He
secured for himself a passage in the fleet, and made himself busy among
his fellow emigrants: but he found himself generally distrusted and
despised. He had been a great man in the knot of ignorant and hotheaded
outlaws who had urged the feeble Monmouth to destruction: but there was
no place for a lowminded agitator, half maniac and half knave, among the
grave statesmen and generals who partook the cares of the resolute and
sagacious William.

The difference between the expedition of 1685 and the expedition of 1688
was sufficiently marked by the difference between the manifestoes which
the leaders of those expeditions published. For Monmouth Ferguson had
scribbled an absurd and brutal libel about the burning of London, the
strangling of Godfrey, the butchering of Essex, and the poisoning of
Charles. The Declaration of William was drawn up by the Grand Pensionary
Fagel, who was highly renowned as a publicist. Though weighty and
learned, it was, in its original form, much too prolix: but it was
abridged and translated into English by Burnet, who well understood the
art of popular composition. It began by a solemn preamble, setting forth
that, in every community, the strict observance of law was necessary
alike to the happiness of nations and to the security of governments.
The Prince of Orange had therefore seen with deep concern that the
fundamental laws of a kingdom, with which he was by blood and by
marriage closely connected, had, by the advice of evil counsellors, been
grossly and systematically violated. The power of dispensing with
Acts of Parliament had been strained to such a point that the whole
legislative authority had been transferred to the crown. Decisions at
variance with the spirit of the constitution had been obtained from
the tribunals by turning out Judge after Judge, till the bench had
been filled with men ready to obey implicitly the directions of the
government. Notwithstanding the King's repeated assurances that he would
maintain the established religion, persons notoriously hostile to that
religion had been promoted, not only to civil offices, but also to
ecclesiastical benefices. The government of the Church had, in defiance
of express statutes, been entrusted to a new court of High Commission;
and in that court one avowed Papist had a seat. Good subjects, for
refusing to violate their duty and their oaths, had been ejected from
their property, in contempt of the Great Charter of the liberties of
England. Meanwhile persons who could not legally set foot on the island
had been placed at the head of seminaries for the corruption of youth.
Lieutenants, Deputy Lieutenants, Justices of the Peace, had been
dismissed in multitudes for refusing to support a pernicious and
unconstitutional policy. The franchises of almost every borough in the
realm bad been invaded. The courts of justice were in such a state
that their decisions, even in civil matters, had ceased to inspire
confidence, and that their servility in criminal cases had brought on
the kingdom the stain of innocent blood. All these abuses, loathed by
the English nation, were to be defended, it seemed, by an army of
Irish Papists. Nor was this all. The most arbitrary princes had never
accounted it an offence in a subject modestly and peaceably to represent
his grievances and to ask for relief. But supplication was now treated
as a high misdemeanour in England. For no crime but that of offering
to the Sovereign a petition drawn up in the most respectful terms, the
fathers of the Church had been imprisoned and prosecuted; and every
Judge who gave his voice in their favour had instantly been turned out.
The calling of a free and lawful Parliament might indeed be an effectual
remedy for all these evils: but such a Parliament, unless the whole
spirit of the administration were changed, the nation could not hope to
see. It was evidently the intention of the court to bring together, by
means of regulated corporations and of Popish returning officers, a
body which would be a House of Commons in name alone. Lastly, there
were circumstances which raised a grave suspicion that the child who
was called Prince of Wales was not really born of the Queen. For these
reasons the Prince, mindful of his near relation to the royal house, and
grateful for the affection which the English people had ever shown to
his beloved wife and to himself, had resolved, in compliance with the
request of many Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and of many other persons
of all ranks, to go over at the head of a force sufficient to repel
violence. He abjured all thought of conquest. He protested that,
while his troops remained in the island, they should be kept under the
strictest restraints of discipline, and that, as soon as the nation had
been delivered from tyranny, they should be sent back. His single object
was to have a free and legal Parliament assembled: and to the decision
of such a Parliament he solemnly pledged himself to leave all questions
both public and private.

As soon as copies of this Declaration were banded about the Hague, signs
of dissension began to appear among the English. Wildman, indefatigable
in mischief, prevailed on some of his countrymen, and, among others,
on the headstrong and volatile Mordaunt, to declare that they would
not take up arms on such grounds. The paper had been drawn up merely to
please the Cavaliers and the parsons. The injuries of the Church and the
trial of the Bishops had been put too prominently forward; and nothing
had been said of the tyrannical manner in which the Tories, before their
rupture with the court, had treated the Whigs. Wildman then brought
forward a counterproject, prepared by himself, which, if it had been
adopted, would have disgusted all the Anglican clergy and four fifths of
the landed aristocracy. The leading Whigs strongly opposed him: Russell
in particular declared that, if such an insane course were taken, there
would be an end of the coalition from which alone the nation could
expect deliverance. The dispute was at length settled by the authority
of William, who, with his usual good sense, determined that the
manifesto should stand nearly as Fagel and Burnet had framed it. [479]

While these things were passing in Holland, James had at length become
sensible of his danger. Intelligence which could not be disregarded came
pouring in from various quarters. At length a despatch from Albeville
removed all doubts. It is said that, when the King had read it, the
blood left his cheeks, and he remained some time speechless. [480] He
might, indeed, well be appalled. The first easterly wind would bring
a hostile armament to the shores of his realm. All Europe, one single
power alone excepted, was impatiently waiting for the news of his
downfall. The help of that single power he had madly rejected. Nay,
he had requited with insult the friendly intervention which might have
saved him. The French armies which, but for his own folly, might
have been employed in overawing the States General, were besieging
Philipsburg or garrisoning Mentz. In a few days he might have to fight,
on English ground, for his crown and for the birthright of his infant
son. His means were indeed in appearance great. The navy was in a
much more efficient state than at the time of his accession: and the
improvement is partly to be attributed to his own exertions. He had
appointed no Lord High Admiral or Board of Admiralty, but had kept
the chief direction of maritime affairs in his own hands, and had been
strenuously assisted by Pepys. It is a proverb that the eye of a
master is more to be trusted than that of a deputy: and, in an age of
corruption and peculation, a department on which a sovereign, even of
very slender capacity, bestows close personal attention is likely to be
comparatively free from abuses. It would have been easy to find an abler
minister of marine than James; but it would not have been easy to find,
among the public men of that age, any minister of marine, except James,
who would not have embezzled stores, taken bribes from contractors, and
charged the crown with the cost of repairs which had never been made.
The King was, in truth, almost the only person who could be trusted not
to rob the King. There had therefore been, during the last three years,
much less waste and pilfering in the dockyards than formerly. Ships
had been built which were fit to go to sea. An excellent order had
been issued increasing the allowances of Captains, and at the same time
strictly forbidding them to carry merchandise from port to port
without the royal permission. The effect of these reforms was already
perceptible; and James found no difficulty in fitting out, at short
notice, a considerable fleet. Thirty ships of the line, all third rates
and fourth rates, were collected in the Thames, under the command of
Lord Dartmouth. The loyalty of Dartmouth was above suspicion; and he was
thought to have as much professional skill and knowledge as any of the
patrician sailors who, in that age, rose to the highest naval commands
without a regular naval training, and who were at once flag officers on
the sea and colonels of infantry on shore. [481]

The regular army was the largest that any King of England had ever
commanded, and was rapidly augmented. New companies were incorporated
with the existing regiments. Commissions for the raising of fresh
regiments were issued. Four thousand men were added to the English
establishment. Three thousand were sent for with all speed from Ireland.
As many more were ordered to march southward from Scotland. James
estimated the force with which he should be able to meet the invaders at
near forty thousand troops, exclusive of the militia. [482]

The navy and army were therefore far more than sufficient to repel a
Dutch invasion. But could the navy, could the army, be trusted? Would
not the trainbands flock by thousands to the standard of the deliverer?
The party which had, a few years before, drawn the sword for Monmouth
would undoubtedly be eager to welcome the Prince of Orange. And what had
become of the party which had, during seven and forty years, been the
bulwark of monarchy? Where were now those gallant gentlemen who had ever
been ready to shed their blood for the crown? Outraged and insulted,
driven from the bench of justice and deprived of all military command,
they saw the peril of their ungrateful Sovereign with undisguised
delight. Where were those priests and prelates who had, from ten
thousand pulpits, proclaimed the duty of obeying the anointed delegate
of God? Some of them had been imprisoned: some had been plundered: all
had been placed under the iron rule of the High Commission, and had been
in hourly fear lest some new freak of tyranny should deprive them of
their freeholds and leave them without a morsel of bread. That Churchmen
would even now so completely forget the doctrine which had been their
peculiar boast as to join in active resistance seemed incredible. But
could their oppressor expect to find among them the spirit which in the
preceding generation had triumphed over the armies of Essex and Waller,
and had yielded only after a desperate struggle to the genius and vigour
of Cromwell? The tyrant was overcome by fear. He ceased to repeat that
concession had always ruined princes, and sullenly owned that he must
stoop to court the Tories once more. [483] There is reason to believe
that Halifax was, at this time, invited to return to office, and that he
was not unwilling to do so. The part of mediator between the throne and
the nation was, of all parts, that for which he was best qualified, and
of which he was most ambitious. How the negotiation with him was broken
off is not known: but it is not improbable that the question of the
dispensing power was the insurmountable difficulty. His hostility to
that power had caused his disgrace three years before; and nothing that
had since happened had been of a nature to change his views. James,
on the other hand, was fully determined to make no concession on that
point. [484] As to other matters he was less pertinacious. He put forth
a proclamation in which he solemnly promised to protect the Church
of England and to maintain the Act of Uniformity. He declared himself
willing to make great sacrifices for the sake of concord. He would no
longer insist that Roman Catholics should be admitted into the House of
Commons; and he trusted that his people would justly appreciate such
a proof of his disposition to meet their wishes. Three days later
he notified his intention to replace all the magistrates and Deputy
Lieutenants who had been dismissed for refusing to support his
policy. On the day after the appearance of this notification Compton's
suspension was taken off. [485]

At the same time the King gave an audience to all the Bishops who were
then in London. They had requested admittance to his presence for the
purpose of tendering their counsel in this emergency. The Primate was
spokesman. He respectfully asked that the administration might be put
into the hands of persons duly qualified, that all acts done
under pretence of the dispensing power might be revoked, that the
Ecclesiastical Commission might be annulled, that the wrongs of
Magdalene College might be redressed, and that the old franchises of the
municipal corporations might be restored. He hinted very intelligibly
that there was one most desirable event which would completely secure
the throne and quiet the distracted realm. If His Majesty would
reconsider the points in dispute between the Churches of Rome and
England, perhaps, by the divine blessing on the arguments which the
Bishops wished to lay before him, he might be convinced that it was his
duty to return to the religion of his father and of his grandfather.
Thus far, Sancroft said, he had spoken the sense of his brethren. There
remained a subject on which he had not taken counsel with them, but to
which he thought it his duty to advert. He was indeed the only man of
his profession who could advert to that subject without being suspected
of an interested motive. The metropolitan see of York had been three
years vacant. The Archbishop implored the King to fill it speedily with
a pious and learned divine, and added that such a divine might without
difficulty be found among those who then stood in the royal presence.
The King commanded himself sufficiently to return thanks for this
unpalatable counsel, and promised to consider what bad been said. [486]
Of the dispensing power he would not yield one tittle. No unqualified
person was removed from any civil or military office. But some of
Sancroft's suggestions were adopted. Within forty-eight hours the Court
of High Commission was abolished. [487] It was determined that the
charter of the City of London, which had been forfeited six years
before, should be restored; and the Chancellor was sent in state to
carry back the venerable parchment to Guildhall. [488] A week later the
public was informed that the Bishop of Winchester, who was by virtue of
his office Visitor of Magdalene College, had it in charge from the King
to correct whatever was amiss in that society. It was not without a long
struggle and a bitter pang that James stooped to this last humiliation.
Indeed he did not yield till the Vicar Apostolic Leyburn, who seems to
have behaved on all occasions like a wise and honest man, declared that
in his judgment the ejected President and Fellows had been wronged, and
that, on religious as well as on political grounds, restitution ought to
be made to them. [489] In a few days appeared a proclamation restoring
the forfeited franchises of all the municipal corporations. [490]

James flattered himself that concessions so great made in the short
space of a month would bring back to him the hearts of his people. Nor
can it be doubted that such concessions, made before there was reason to
expect an invasion from Holland, would have done much to conciliate the
Tories. But gratitude is not to be expected by rulers who give to fear
what they have refused to justice. During three years the King had been
proof to all argument and to all entreaty. Every minister who had
dared to raise his voice in favour of the civil and ecclesiastical
constitution of the realm had been disgraced. A Parliament eminently
loyal had ventured to protest gently and respectfully against a
violation of the fundamental laws of England, and had been sternly
reprimanded, prorogued, and dissolved. Judge after Judge had been
stripped of the ermine for declining to give decisions opposed to the
whole common and statute law. The most respectable Cavaliers had been
excluded from all share in the government of their counties for refusing
to betray the public liberties. Scores of clergymen had been deprived of
their livelihood for observing their oaths. Prelates, to whose steadfast
fidelity the King owed the crown which he wore, had on their knees
besought him not to command them to violate the laws of God and of the
land. Their modest petition had been treated as a seditious libel.
They had been browbeaten, threatened, imprisoned, prosecuted, and had
narrowly escaped utter ruin. Then at length the nation, finding that
right was borne down by might, and that even supplication was regarded
as a crime, began to think of trying the chances of war. The oppressor
learned that an armed deliverer was at hand and would be eagerly
welcomed by Whigs and Tories, Dissenters and Churchmen. All was
immediately changed. That government which had requited constant and
zealous service with spoliation and persecution, that government which
to weighty reasons and pathetic intreaties had replied only by injuries,
and insults, became in a moment strangely gracious. Every Gazette now
announced the removal of some grievance. It was then evident that on the
equity, the humanity, the plighted word of the King, no reliance could
be placed, and that he would govern well only so long as he was under
the strong dread of resistance. His subjects were therefore by no means
disposed to restore to him a confidence which he had justly forfeited,
or to relax the pressure which had wrung from him the only good acts
of his whole reign. The general impatience for the arrival of the Dutch
became every day stronger. The gales which at this time blew obstinately
from the west, and which at once prevented the Prince's armament from
sailing and brought fresh Irish regiments from Dublin to Chester, were
bitterly cursed and reviled by the common people. The weather, it was
said, was Popish. Crowds stood in Cheapside gazing intently at the
weathercock on the graceful steeple of Bow Church, and praying for a
Protestant wind. [491]

The general feeling was strengthened by an event which, though merely
accidental, was not unnaturally ascribed to the perfidy of the King. The
Bishop of Winchester announced that, in obedience to the royal commands,
he designed to restore the ejected members of Magdalene College.
He fixed the twenty-first of October for this ceremony, and on the
twentieth went down to Oxford. The whole University was in expectation.
The expelled Fellows had arrived from all parts of the kingdom, eager
to take possession of their beloved home. Three hundred gentlemen on
horseback escorted the Visitor to his lodgings. As he passed, the bells
rang, and the High Street was crowded with shouting spectators. He
retired to rest. The next morning a joyous crowd assembled at the gates
of Magdalene: but the Bishop did not make his appearance; and soon it
was known that he had been roused from his bed by a royal messenger,
and had been directed to repair immediately to Whitehall. This strange
disappointment caused much wonder and anxiety: but in a few hours came
news which, to minds disposed, not without reason, to think the worst,
seemed completely to explain the King's change of purpose. The Dutch
armament had put out to sea, and had been driven back by a storm. The
disaster was exaggerated by rumour. Many ships, it was said, had been
lost. Thousands of horses had perished. All thought of a design on
England must be relinquished, at least for the present year. Here was
a lesson for the nation. While James expected immediate invasion and
rebellion, he had given orders that reparation should be made to those
whom he had unlawfully despoiled. As soon as he found himself safe,
those orders had been revoked. This imputation, though at that time
generally believed, and though, since that time, repeated by writers who
ought to have been well informed, was without foundation. It is
certain that the mishap of the Dutch fleet could not, by any mode of
communication, have been known at Westminster till some hours after the
Bishop of Winchester had received the summons which called him away
from Oxford. The King, however, had little right to complain of the
suspicions of his people. If they sometimes, without severely examining
evidence, ascribed to his dishonest policy what was really the effect of
accident or inadvertence, the fault was his own. That men who are in the
habit of breaking faith should be distrusted when they mean to keep it
is part of their just and natural punishment. [492]

It is remarkable that James, on this occasion, incurred one unmerited
imputation solely in consequence of his eagerness to clear himself from
another imputation equally unmerited. The Bishop of Winchester had been
hastily summoned from Oxford to attend an extraordinary meeting of
the Privy Council, or rather an assembly of Notables, which had been
convoked at Whitehall. With the Privy Councillors were joined, in this
solemn sitting, all the Peers Spiritual and Temporal who chanced to be
in or near the capital, the Judges, the crown lawyers, the Lord Mayor
and the Aldermen of the City of London. A hint had been given to Petre
that he would do well to absent himself. In truth few of the Peers would
have chosen to sit with him. Near the head of the board a chair of state
was placed for the Queen Dowager. The Princess Anne had been requested
to attend, but had excused herself on the plea of delicate health.

James informed this great assembly that he thought it necessary to
produce proofs of the birth of his son. The arts of bad men had poisoned
the public mind to such an extent that very many believed the Prince
of Wales to be a supposititious child. But Providence had graciously
ordered things so that scarcely any prince had ever come into the world
in the presence of so many witnesses. Those witnesses then appeared and
gave their evidence. After all the depositions had been taken, James
with great solemnity declared that the imputation thrown on him was
utterly false, and that he would rather die a thousand deaths than wrong
any of his children.

All who were present appeared to be satisfied. The evidence was
instantly published, and was allowed by judicious and impartial persons
to be decisive. [493] But the judicious are always a minority; and
scarcely anybody was then impartial. The whole nation was convinced that
all sincere Papists thought it a duty to perjure themselves whenever
they could, by perjury, serve the interests of their Church. Men who,
having been bred Protestants, had for the sake of lucre pretended to be
converted to Popery, were, if possible, less trustworthy than sincere
Papists. The depositions of all who belonged to these two classes were
therefore regarded as mere nullities. Thus the weight of the testimony
on which James had relied was greatly reduced. What remained was
malignantly scrutinised. To every one of the few Protestant witnesses
who had said anything material some exception was taken. One was
notoriously a greedy sycophant. Another had not indeed yet apostatized,
but was nearly related to an apostate. The people asked, as they had
asked from the first, why, if all was right, the King, knowing, as he
knew, that many doubted the reality of his wife's pregnancy, had not
taken care that the birth should be more satisfactorily proved. Was
there nothing suspicious in the false reckoning, in the sudden change
of abode, in the absence of the Princess Anne and of the Archbishop of
Canterbury? Why was no prelate of the Established Church in attendance?
Why was not the Dutch Ambassador summoned? Why, above all, were not the
Hydes, loyal servants of the crown, faithful sons of the Church, and
natural guardians of the interest of their nieces, suffered to mingle
with the crowd of Papists which was assembled in and near the royal
bedchamber? Why, in short, was there, in the long list of assistants,
not a single name which commanded public confidence and respect? The
true answer to these questions was that the King's understanding was
weak, that his temper was despotic, and that he had willingly seized an
opportunity of manifesting his contempt for the opinion of his subjects.
But the multitude, not contented with this explanation, attributed to
deep laid villany what was really the effect of folly and perverseness.
Nor was this opinion confined to the multitude. The Lady Anne, at her
toilette, on the morning after the Council, spoke of the investigation
with such scorn as emboldened the very tirewomen who were dressing her
to put in their jests. Some of the Lords who had heard the examination,
and had appeared to be satisfied, were really unconvinced. Lloyd,
Bishop of St.
Asaph, whose piety and learning commanded general respect,
continued to the end of his life to believe that a fraud had been
practised.

The depositions taken before the Council had not been many hours in the
hands of the public when it was noised abroad that Sunderland had been
dismissed from all his places. The news of his disgrace seems to have
taken the politicians of the coffeehouses by surprise, but did not
astonish those who had observed what was passing in the palace. Treason
had not been brought home to him by legal, or even by tangible, evidence
but there was a strong suspicion among those who watched him closely
that, through some channel or other, he was in communication with the
enemies of that government in which he occupied so high a place. He,
with unabashed forehead, imprecated on his own head all evil here and
hereafter if he was guilty. His only fault, he protested, was that he
had served the crown too well. Had he not given hostages to the royal
cause? Had he not broken down every bridge by which he could, in case of
a disaster, effect his retreat? Had he not gone all lengths in favour
of the dispensing power, sate in the High Commission, signed the warrant
for the commitment of the Bishops, appeared as a witness against them,
at the hazard of his life, amidst the hisses and curses of the thousands
who filled Westminster Hall? Had he not given the last proof of fidelity
by renouncing his religion, and publicly joining a Church which the
nation detested? What had he to hope from a change? What had he not to
dread? These arguments, though plausible, and though set off by the most
insinuating address, could not remove the impression which whispers and
reports arriving at once from a hundred different quarters had produced.
The King became daily colder and colder. Sunderland attempted to support
himself by the Queen's help, obtained an audience of Her Majesty, and
was actually in her apartment when Middleton entered, and, by the King's
orders, demanded the seals. That evening the fallen minister was for the
last time closeted with the Prince whom he had flattered and betrayed.
The interview was a strange one. Sunderland acted calumniated virtue to
perfection. He regretted not, he said, the Secretaryship of State or the
Presidency of the Council, if only he retained his sovereign's esteem.
"Do not, sir, do not make me the most unhappy gentleman in your
dominions, by refusing to declare that you acquit me of disloyalty. " The
King hardly knew what to believe. There was no positive proof of guilt;
and the energy and pathos with which Sunderland lied might have imposed
on a keener understanding than that with which he had to deal. At the
French embassy his professions still found credit. There he declared
that he should remain a few days in London, and show himself at court.
He would then retire to his country seat at Althorpe, and try to repair
his dilapidated fortunes by economy. If a revolution should take place
he must fly to France. His ill requited loyalty had left him no other
place of refuge. [494]

The seals which had been taken from Sunderland were delivered to
Preston. The same Gazette which announced this change contained the
official intelligence of the disaster which had befallen the Dutch
fleet. [495] That disaster was serious, though far less serious than
the King and his few adherents, misled by their wishes, were disposed to
believe.

On the sixteenth of October, according to the English reckoning, was
held a solemn sitting of the States of Holland. The Prince came to bid
them farewell. He thanked them for the kindness with which they had
watched over him when he was left an orphan child, for the confidence
which they had reposed in him during his administration, and for the
assistance which they had granted to him at this momentous crisis. He
entreated them to believe that he had always meant and endeavoured to
promote the interest of his country. He was now quitting them, perhaps
never to return. If he should fall in defence of the reformed religion
and of the independence of Europe, he commended his beloved wife to
their care. The Grand Pensionary answered in a faltering voice; and in
all that grave senate there was none who could refrain from shedding
tears. But the iron stoicism of William never gave way; and he stood
among his weeping friends calm and austere as if he had been about to
leave them only for a short visit to his hunting grounds at Loo. [496]

The deputies of the principal towns accompanied him to his yacht. Even
the representatives of Amsterdam, so long the chief seat of opposition
to his administration, joined in paying him this compliment. Public
prayers were offered for him on that day in all the churches of the
Hague.

In the evening he arrived at Helvoetsluys and went on board of a frigate
called the Brill. His flag was immediately hoisted. It displayed the
arms of Nassau quartered with those of England. The motto, embroidered
in letters three feet long, was happily chosen. The House of Orange had
long used the elliptical device, "I will maintain. " The ellipsis was now
filled up with words of high import, "The liberties of England and the
Protestant religion. "

The Prince had not been many hours on board when the wind became fair.
On the nineteenth the armament put to sea, and traversed, before a
strong breeze, about half the distance between the Dutch and English
coasts. Then the wind changed, blew hard from the west, and swelled into
a violent tempest. The ships, scattered and in great distress, regained
the shore of Holland as they best might. The Brill reached Helvoetsluys
on the twenty-first. The Prince's fellow passengers had observed with
admiration that neither peril nor mortification had for one moment
disturbed his composure. He now, though suffering from sea sickness,
refused to go on shore: for he conceived that, by remaining on board,
he should in the most effectual manner notify to Europe that the late
misfortune had only delayed for a very short time the execution of his
purpose. In two or three days the fleet reassembled. One vessel only had
been cast away. Not a single soldier or sailor was missing. Some horses
had perished: but this loss the Prince with great expedition repaired;
and, before the London Gazette had spread the news of his mishap, he was
again ready to sail. [497]

His Declaration preceded him only by a few hours. On the first of
November it began to be mentioned in mysterious whispers by the
politicians of London, was passed secretly from man to man, and was
slipped into the boxes of the post office. One of the agents was
arrested, and the packets of which he was in charge were carried to
Whitehall. The King read, and was greatly troubled. His first impulse
was to bide the paper from all human eyes. He threw into the fire every
copy which had been brought to him, except one; and that one he would
scarcely trust out of his own hands. [498]

The paragraph in the manifesto which disturbed him most was that in
which it was said that some of the Peers, Spiritual and Temporal, had
invited the Prince of Orange to invade England. Halifax, Clarendon, and
Nottingham were then in London. They were immediately summoned to the
palace and interrogated. Halifax, though conscious of innocence, refused
at first to make any answer. "Your Majesty asks me," said he, "whether I
have committed high treason. If I am suspected, let me be brought before
my peers. And how can your Majesty place any dependence on the answer
of a culprit whose life is at stake? Even if I had invited His Highness
over, I should without scruple plead Not Guilty. " The King declared that
he did not at all consider Halifax as a culprit, and that he had asked
the question as one gentleman asks another who has been calumniated
whether there be the least foundation for the calumny. "In that case,"
said Halifax, "I have no objection to aver, as a gentleman speaking to a
gentleman, on my honour, which is as sacred as my oath, that I have not
invited the Prince of Orange over. " [499] Clarendon and Nottingham said
the same. The King was still more anxious to ascertain the temper of the
Prelates. If they were hostile to him, his throne was indeed in danger.
But it could not be. There was something monstrous in the supposition
that any Bishop of the Church of England could rebel against his
Sovereign. Compton was called into the royal closet, and was asked
whether he believed that there was the slightest ground for the Prince's
assertion. The Bishop was in a strait; for he was himself one of the
seven who had signed the invitation; and his conscience, not a very
enlightened conscience, would not suffer him, it seems, to utter a
direct falsehood. "Sir," he said, "I am quite confident that there
is not one of my brethren who is not as guiltless as myself in this
matter. " The equivocation was ingenious: but whether the difference
between the sin of such an equivocation and the sin of a lie be worth
any expense of ingenuity may perhaps be doubted. The King was satisfied.
"I fully acquit you all," he said. "But I think it necessary that you
should publicly contradict the slanderous charge brought against you
in the Prince's declaration. " The Bishop very naturally begged that he
might be allowed to read the paper which he was required to contradict;
but the King would not suffer him to look at it.

On the following day appeared a proclamation threatening with the
severest punishment all who should circulate, or who should even dare to
read, William's manifesto. [500] The Primate and the few Spiritual Peers
who happened to be then in London had orders to wait upon the King.
Preston was in attendance with the Prince's Declaration in his hand. "My
Lords," said James, "listen to this passage. It concerns you. " Preston
then read the sentence in which the Spiritual Peers were mentioned. The
King proceeded: "I do not believe one word of this: I am satisfied
of your innocence; but I think it fit to let you know of what you are
accused. "

The Primate, with many dutiful expressions, protested that the King did
him no more than justice. "I was born in your Majesty's allegiance. I
have repeatedly confirmed that allegiance by my oath. I can have but
one King at one time. I have not invited the Prince over; and I do not
believe that a single one of my brethren has done so. " "I am sure I have
not," said Crewe of Durham. "Nor I," said Cartwright of Chester.
Crewe and Cartwright might well be believed; for both had sate in the
Ecclesiastical Commission. When Compton's turn came, he parried the
question with an adroitness which a Jesuit might have envied. "I gave
your Majesty my answer yesterday. "

James repeated again and again that he fully acquitted them all.
Nevertheless it would, in his judgment, be for his service and for their
own honour that they should publicly vindicate themselves. He therefore
required them to draw up a paper setting forth their abhorrence of the
Prince's design. They remained silent: their silence was supposed to
imply consent; and they were suffered to withdraw. [501]

Meanwhile the fleet of William was on the German Ocean. It was on the
evening of Thursday the first of November that he put to sea the second
time. The wind blew fresh from the east. The armament, during twelve
hours, held a course towards the north west. The light vessels sent out
by the English Admiral for the purpose of obtaining intelligence brought
back news which confirmed the prevailing opinion that the enemy would
try to land in Yorkshire. All at once, on a signal from the Prince's
ship, the whole fleet tacked, and made sail for the British Channel.
The same breeze which favoured the voyage of the invaders prevented
Dartmouth from coming out of the Thames. His ships were forced to strike
yards and topmasts; and two of his frigates, which had gained the open
sea, were shattered by the violence of the weather and driven back into
the river. [502]

The Dutch fleet ran fast before the gale, and reached the Straits at
about ten in the morning of Saturday the third of November. William
himself, in the Brill, led the way. More than six hundred vessels,
with canvass spread to a favourable wind, followed in his train. The
transports were in the centre. The men of war, more than fifty in
number, formed an outer rampart. Herbert, with the title of Lieutenant
Admiral General, commanded the whole fleet. His post was in the rear,
and many English sailors, inflamed against Popery, and attracted by
high pay, served under him. It was not without great difficulty that the
Prince had prevailed on some Dutch officers of high reputation to
submit to the authority of a stranger. But the arrangement was eminently
judicious. There was, in the King's fleet, much discontent and an ardent
zeal for the Protestant faith. But within the memory of old mariners
the Dutch and English navies had thrice, with heroic spirit and various
fortune, contended for the empire of the sea. Our sailors had not
forgotten the broom with which Tromp had threatened to sweep the
Channel, or the fire which De Ruyter had lighted in the dockyards of the
Medway. Had the rival nations been once more brought face to face on the
element of which both claimed the sovereignty, all other thoughts might
have given place to mutual animosity. A bloody and obstinate battle
might have been fought. Defeat would have been fatal to William's
enterprise. Even victory would have deranged all his deeply meditated
schemes of policy. He therefore wisely determined that the pursuers,
if they overtook him, should be hailed in their own mother tongue,
and adjured, by an admiral under whom they had served, and whom they
esteemed, not to fight against old mess-mates for Popish tyranny. Such
an appeal might possibly avert a conflict. If a conflict took place, one
English commander would be opposed to another; nor would the pride of
the islanders be wounded by learning that Dartmouth had been compelled
to strike to Herbert. [503]

Happily William's precautions were not necessary. Soon after midday he
passed the Straits. His fleet spread to within a league of Dover on the
north and of Calais on the south. The men of war on the extreme right
and left saluted both fortresses at once. The troops appeared under arms
on the decks. The flourish of trumpets, the clash of cymbals, and the
rolling of drums were distinctly heard at once on the English and French
shores. An innumerable company of gazers blackened the white beach of
Kent. Another mighty multitude covered the coast of Picardy. Rapin de
Thoyras, who, driven by persecution from his country, had taken service
in the Dutch army and accompanied the Prince to England, described the
spectacle, many years later, as the most magnificent and affecting that
was ever seen by human eyes. At sunset the armament was off Beachy Head.
Then the lights were kindled. The sea was in a blaze for many miles. But
the eyes of all the steersmen were fixed throughout the night on three
huge lanterns which flamed on the stern of the Brill. [504]

Meanwhile a courier bad been riding post from Dover Castle to Whitehall
with news that the Dutch had passed the Straits and were steering
westward. It was necessary to make an immediate change in all the
military arrangements. Messengers were despatched in every direction.
Officers were roused from their beds at dead of night. At three on the
Sunday morning there was a great muster by torchlight in Hyde Park.
The King had sent several regiments northward in the expectation that
William would land in Yorkshire. Expresses were despatched to recall
them. All the forces except those which were necessary to keep the peace
of the capital were ordered to move to the west. Salisbury was appointed
as the place of rendezvous: but, as it was thought possible that
Portsmouth might be the first point of attack, three battalions of
guards and a strong body of cavalry set out for that fortress. In a few
hours it was known that Portsmouth was safe; and these troops received
orders to change their route and to hasten to Salisbury. [505]

When Sunday the fourth of November dawned, the cliffs of the Isle
of Wight were full in view of the Dutch armament. That day was the
anniversary both of William's birth and of his marriage. Sail was
slackened during part of the morning; and divine service was performed
on board of the ships. In the afternoon and through the night the fleet
held on its course. Torbay was the place where the Prince intended to
land. But the morning of Monday the fifth of November was hazy. The
pilot of the Brill could not discern the sea marks, and carried the
fleet too far to the west. The danger was great. To return in the face
of the wind was impossible. Plymouth was the next port. But at Plymouth
a garrison had been posted under the command of Lord Bath. The landing
might be opposed; and a check might produce serious consequences. There
could be little doubt, moreover, that by this time the royal fleet had
got out of the Thames and was hastening full sail down the Channel.
Russell saw the whole extent of the peril, and exclaimed to Burnet,
"You may go to prayers, Doctor. All is over. " At that moment the wind
changed: a soft breeze sprang up from the south: the mist dispersed; the
sun shone forth and, under the mild light of an autumnal noon, the fleet
turned back, passed round the lofty cape of Berry Head, and rode safe in
the harbour of Torbay. [506]

Since William looked on that harbour its aspect has greatly changed. The
amphitheatre which surrounds the spacious basin now exhibits everywhere
the signs of prosperity and civilisation. At the northeastern extremity
has sprung up a great watering place, to which strangers are attracted
from the most remote parts of our island by the Italian softness of the
air; for in that climate the myrtle flourishes unsheltered; and even the
winter is milder than the Northumbrian April. The inhabitants are about
ten thousand in number. The newly built churches and chapels, the baths
and libraries, the hotels and public gardens, the infirmary and the
museum, the white streets, rising terrace above terrace, the gay
villas peeping from the midst of shrubberies and flower beds, present
a spectacle widely different from any that in the seventeenth century
England could show. At the opposite end of the bay lies, sheltered by
Berry head, the stirring market town of Brixham, the wealthiest seat of
our fishing trade. A pier and a haven were formed there at the beginning
of the present century, but have been found insufficient for the
increasing traffic. The population is about six thousand souls. The
shipping amounts to more than two hundred sail. The tonnage exceeds many
times the tonnage of the port of Liverpool under the Kings of the House
of Stuart. But Torbay, when the Dutch fleet cast anchor there, was known
only as a haven where ships sometimes took refuge from the tempests of
the Atlantic. Its quiet shores were undisturbed by the bustle either
of commerce or of pleasure and the huts of ploughmen and fishermen
were thinly scattered over what is now the site of crowded marts and of
luxurious pavilions.

The peasantry of the coast of Devonshire remembered the name of Monmouth
with affection, and held Popery in detestation. They therefore
crowded down to the seaside with provisions and offers of service. The
disembarkation instantly commenced. Sixty boats conveyed the troops to
the coast. Mackay was sent on shore first with the British regiments.
The Prince soon followed. He landed where the quay of Brixham now
stands. The whole aspect of the place has been altered. Where we now see
a port crowded with shipping, and a market place swarming with buyers
and sellers, the waves then broke on a desolate beach: but a fragment of
the rock on which the deliverer stepped from his boat has been carefully
preserved, and is set up as an object of public veneration in the centre
of that busy wharf.

As soon as the Prince had planted his foot on dry ground he called for
horses. Two beasts, such as the small yeomen of that time were in the
habit of riding, were procured from the neighbouring village. William
and Schomberg mounted and proceeded to examine the country.

As soon as Burnet was on shore he hastened to the Prince. An
amusing dialogue took place between them. Burnet poured forth his
congratulations with genuine delight, and then eagerly asked what were
His Highness's plans.