November, a fatal day for popery, William reached Torbay, invader and crush him before he could be strengthened by his real destination. James meantime had been in a state of dreadful agitation. The very day that William had set sail some of his declarations had been seized in circulation in London, and James ordered all but one copy to be destroyed, and suddenly summoned to his presence Halifax, Clarendon, and Nottingham. His eye had been arrested instantly by the paragraph which declared that William was earnestly invited to England by lords both temporal and spiritual. He demanded whether they had taken any part in any such invitation. They replied that they had not. He then sent for the bishop of London, who had many causes of discontent, and who was actually one of the seven who had signed the invitation. Compton replied with ready evasion that he was confident that there was not one of the bishops who were not as innocent as himself of any such matter. James, however, summoned all the bishops who were in town. They appeared on the morrow-Sancroft, the archbishop, Crewe of Durham, Cartwright of Chester, and the bishops of St. David's and London. James drew their attention to the assertion about the lords spiritual; declared that he did not believe a word of it, but still would like to have their explicit denial. Sancroft, Crewe, and Cartwright emphatically denied any participation in so treasonable an act-as they truly could, for Sancroft was not in the confidence of the revolutionary party, and Cartwright and Crewe had been thorough-going High Commission men. When Compton was asked again, he replied, "I answered yesterday." But James was not satisfied; he ordered them to draw their denial in a written form which he might publish to the nation, and they withdrew in silence as if about to comply, though in no very zealous mood. James sent repeatedly to hasten their proceedings, and at length they appeared and repeated their protestations of innocence. "But where," demanded James, "is the paper?" They replied that, on consultation, they did not feel that a written answer was requisite, as his majesty fully acquitted them. "But I expected a paper; I consider that you promised me one." "We assure your majesty," said the prelates, "that not one man in five hundred believes the declaration to be the prince's." "But five hurdred," retorted James, angrily, "would bring in the prince of Orange upon my throat; " and he repeated that he must have their written answer. The bishops, however, now knew that the prince's fleet was sailing down the Channel, and they excused themselves from meddling in state affairs, having, as Sancroft remarked, so lately suffered imprisonment for a matter of state. At this hard hit James lost all patience, and he broke out in violent language. "If ever," says the bishop of Rochester, "in all my life I saw him more than ordinary vehement in speech and transported in his expressions, it was on this occasion." The primate alone returned a written answer, perfectly exonerating himself, and declaring his belief of the innocence of his brethren. Scarcely had the bishops quitted the palace when the news arrived that the prince of Orange had landed at Torbay. James had a much superior army in point of numbers; he had forty thousand regular troops, besides seven regiments of militia-William only about fifteen thousand; and his unquestionable policy was to march rapidly down on the any men of influence going over to him. If he succeeded in that, the disaffected would be careful to remain quiet, and, at the worst, he would have compelled the prince to fight, which would have injured his prestige as a peaceable deliverer from oppression, and converted him into a martial invader. This was the advice which Louis urgently gave him, and undoubtedly it was the best; but James was never wise in his decisions; his whole career had been one of the most flagrant absurdity, and he was now surrounded by traitors who, by giving him conflicting counsel, augmented his own indecision. James resolved to get the main army at Salisbury ready to march against the enemy. Father Petre strongly dissuaded him from quitting the capital at all— advice of the very worst character, because it would allow the disaffected both north and south to gather under their heads unmolested. Lord Feversham and the count de Roye, two foreigners whom he had most unadvisedly, under the circumstances, placed at the head of the army, also protested against fixing his head-quarters so far from the capital. James, therefore, divided his forces, ordering twenty battalions of infantry and thirty squadrons of horse to march for Salisbury, and Marlborough and six battalions of infantry, and the same number of squadrons of horse, to protect London. The prince of Orange during this time had landed at Torbay, the weather continuing rainy and bad, but so far favourable that it still defied all the efforts of lord Dartmouth to pursue him. The people declared that it was the evident will of Providence that the prince should deliver the country from popery; for just a century before, the Spanish Armada, coming to destroy protestantism, had been destroyed itself by tempests; and now the fleet which was intended to intercept the landing of William was not allowed to approach him. Most monarchs would have suspected the zeal of Dartmouth; but James, with all his follies and crimes, was only too unsuspicious, and he listened to his representations, and, as a naval man himself, fully excused him. Yet it is notorious that, whatever was the loyalty of Dartmouth, the greater part of his officers were in perfect understanding with admiral Herbert, who was even now at the head of William's fleet; and it is as doubtful whether the sailors themselves would have fought for the popish tyrant, numbers of them being also in the Dutch fleet. William took up his quarters in a cottage whilst his troops were landing, and from its thatched roof waved the flag of Holland, bearing the significant motto, "I will maintain the Protestant Religion and the Liberties of England." Burnet was one of the first to congratulate William on his landing on English soil; and, at the recommendation of Carstairs, the first thing on the complete disembarkation was to collect the troops, and return public thanks to Heaven for the successful transit of the armament. The next day William marched in the direction of Exeter; but the rains continued, and the roads were foul, so that he made little progress. It was not till the 9th that he appeared before the city. The people received him with enthusiasm, but the magistracy shrunk back in terror, and the bishop Lamplugh and the dean had fled to warn the king of the invasion. The city was in utter confusion, and at first shut its gates; but as A.D. 1688.] DESERTIONS FROM JAMES TO WILLIAM. 557 quickly agreed to open them, and William was accommodated | popery would satisfy him. A still more striking defection in the vacated deanery. But the people of the west had suffered too much from the support of Monmouth not to have learnt caution. A service was ordered in the cathedral to return thanks for the safe arrival of the prince; but the canons absented themselves, and only some of the prebendaries and choristers attended, and, as soon as Burnet began to read the prince's declaration, these hurried out as fast as they could. On Sunday, which was the 11th, Burnet was the only clergyman that could be got to preach before the prince, and the dissenters refused admittance to the fanatic Ferguson to their chapel. That extraordinary person, however, who appears to have been one-third enthusiast and two-thirds knave, called for a hammer, and exclaiming, "I will take the kingdom of heaven by storm!" broke open the door, marched to the pulpit with his drawn sword in his hand, and delivered one of those wild and ill-judged philippics against the king which did so much mischief in the cause of Monmouth. Altogether, so far the cause of William appeared as little promising as that of Monmouth had done. Notwithstanding the many and earnest entreaties from men of high rank and of various classes, nobles, bishops, officers of army and navy, a week had elapsed, and no single person of influence had joined him. The people only, as in Monmouth's case, had crowded about him with acclamations of welcome. William was extremely disappointed and chagrined; he declared that he was deluded and betrayed, and he vowed that he would reimbark, and leave those who had called for him to work out their own deliverance, or receive their due punishment. But on Monday, the 12th, his spirits were a little cheered by a gentleman of Crediton, named Burrington, attended by a few followers, joining his standard. This was immediately followed, however, by the news that lord Lovelace, with about seventy of his tenants and neighbours, had been intercepted by the militia at Cirencester, taken prisoners, and sent to Gloucester castle. The slow movement of the disaffected appears to have originated in William's not having landed in Yorkshire, as was expected, but in the west, where he was not expected. In the north, lord Delamere and Brandon in Cheshire, Danby and Lumley in Yorkshire, Devonshire and Chesterfield in Derbyshire: in Lancashire the earl of Manchester, in Nottinghamshire and Lincolnshire Rutland and Stamford, and others were all waiting to receive him. The very army which had been encamped on Hounslow Heath was the seat of secret conspiracy of officers, with Churchill himself at their head, who kept up constant communication with the club at the Rose tavern, in Covent Garden, of which lord Colchester was president. But all this concert was paralysed for a time by William's appearance in so distant a quarter. But the elements of revolt which had suffered a momentary shock now began to move visibly. The very day that lord Lovelace was captured, lord Colchester marched into Exeter, attended by about seventy horse, and accompanied by the hero of Lillibullero, Thomas Wharton. They were quickly followed by Russell, the son of the duke of Bedford, one of the earliest promoters of the revolution, and still more significantly by the earl of Abingdon, a stanch tory, who had supported James till he saw that nothing but the reign of from the king immediately followed. Lord Cornbury, the eldest son of the earl of Clarendon, pretended to have received orders to march with three regiments of cavalry stationed at Salisbury moor to the enemy in the west. He was a young man, entirely under the influence of lord Churchill, having been brought up in the household of his cousin, the princes. Anne, where Churchill and his wife directed everything; and there can be no doubt that this movement was the work of Churchill. As the cavalry proceeded from place to place by a circuitous route to Axminster, the officers became suspicious, and demanded to see the orders. Cornbury replied that his orders were to beat up the quarters of the army in the night near Honiton. The loyal officers, who had received hints that all was not right, demanded to see the written orders; but Cornbury, who had none to produce, stole away in the dark with a few followers who were in the secret, and got to the Dutch camp. His regiment, and that of the duke of Berwick, James's own son, with the exception of about thirty troops, returned to Salisbury; but the third regiment, the duke of St. Alban's, followed the colonel, Langton, to Honiton, where general Talmash received them; and most of the officers and a hundred and fifty privates declared for the prince, the rest being made prisoners, but soon afterwards discharged. The news of this defection of one SO near to the king's family created the greatest consternation in the palace. The king rose from table without finishing his dinner, and there were terror and tears amongst the queen's ladies, the queen herself appearing quite prostrated. What made the matter the more alarming was the undisguised joy which appeared amongst the king's most trusted officers. Clarendon pretended to be overwhelmed at so unlooked-for a calamity as the treason of his son. "O God!" he exclaimed, "that a son of mine should be a rebel!" But subsequent events soon showed that this was mere affectation; in another fortnight he became a rebel himself. He was not long in discovering that there were plenty of people about the court who applauded his son's conduct, and the princess Anne herself asked why he made trouble of it. "People," she naively remarked, "are very uneasy about popery, and there are plenty more in the army who will do the same." In fact, it is not to be forgotten that, though the Hydes were nearly related by marriage to the throne, they were still more nearly related to the invading party by blood. Both Clarendon and Rochester had been disgraced and dismissed for their unbending protestantism; and they had no hope whatever from the popish prince, but every expectation from the protestant aspirants. In his terror, James summoned a military council. was anxious to receive the assurances of fidelity from his other officers-as if any assurances, under the circumstances, anything but leading them against the enemy, could test the loyalty of these men. He told them that he wished to be satisfied that there were no more Cornburys amongst them; and that, if any present had any scruple about fighting for him, he was ready to receive back their commissions. Of course they all protested the most ardent devotion to his cause, though not a man of them but was not already pledged to desert him. There were Churchill, recently made He courtiers that he would not concede an atom. He then to cease till they had obtained all the objects in his declara appointed a council of five lords—of whom two were papists and the third Jeffreys-to keep order during his absence, sent off the prince of Wales to Portsmouth to the care of the duke of Berwick, the commander, and set out for Salisbury. He reached his camp on the 19th, and ordered a review the next day, at Warminster, of Kirke's division. Churchill and Kirke were particularly anxious that he should proceed to this review, and Kirke and Trelawny hastened on to their forces on pretence of making the necessary preparations. On the other hand, count de Roye as earnestly dissuaded James from going to Warminster; he told him that the enemy's advanced foot was at Wincanton, and that the position at Warminster, or even that where they were at Salisbury, was untenable. James, however, was resolved to go; but the next morning, the 20th, he was prevented by a viclent bleeding at the nose, which continued unchecked for three days. Scarcely had this impediment occurred when news came that the king's forces had been attacked at Wincanton, and worsted by some of the division of General Mackay. James was now assured that, had he gone to Warminster, he would have been seized by traitors near his person, and carried off to the enemy's quarters. He was advised to arrest Churchill and Grafton; but, with his usual imprudence, he refused, and summoned them along with the other officers to a military council, to decide whether they should advance or retreat. Feversham, Roye, and Dumbarton argued for a retreat; Churchill persisted in his recommendation of an advance to the post at Warminster. The council lasted till midnight, when Churchill and Grafton, seeing that their advice was not followed, felt the time was come to throw off the mask, and therefore rode directly away to the prince's lines. The next morning the discovery of this desertion filled the camp with consternation, and this was at its height when it was known that Churchill's brother, a colonel, Trelawny, Barclay, and about twenty privates had ridden after the fugitives. It was said that Kirke was gone too, but it was not the fact; and he was now arrested for having disobeyed orders sent to him from Salisbury; but he professed such indignation at the desertion of Churchill and the others, that the shallow-minded king set him again at liberty. The deserters were received by William with a most gracious welcome, though Schomberg remarked of Churchill that he was the first lieutenant-general that he had ever heard of running away from his colours. In James's camp all was confusion, suspicion, and dismay. There was not a man who was sure of his fellow, and the retreat which commenced more resembled a flight. Numbers who would have fought had they been led at once to battle, now lost heart, and stole away on all sides. The news that found its way every hour into the demoralised camp was enough to ruin any army. From every quarter came tidings of insurrection. The earl of Bath, the governor of Plymouth, had surrendered the place solemnly to William; Sir Edward Seymour, Sir William Portman, Sir Fraucis Warre-men of immense influence in Devon, Somerset, and Dorset, were already with William at Exeter; a paper had been drawn up and signed by the leading persons there to stand by the prince, and, whether he succeeded or whether he fell, never tion; Delamere had risen in Chester, and had reached Manchester on his way south; Danby had surprised the garrison at York; the town had warmly welcomed him, and a great number of peers, baronets, and gentlemen were in arms with him. Devonshire was up in Derbyshire; he had been amongst the very earliest movers in the invitation to William; and there still stands a little thatched cottage at Whittington, betwixt Chesterfield and Chatsworth, where he and the other signers of the invitation had first planned the resistance to James, whence it bears to this day the name of the "Revolution House;" and where, in 1788, the centenary of this great national event was celebrated by the descendants of the chief actors, amid a great assembly of the gentry of the neighbouring counties. Devonshire had called together the authorities and people of Derby, and published his reason for appearing in arms, calling on them to assist all true men in obtaining a settlement of the public rights in a free parliament. At Nottingham he was met by the earls of Rutland, Stamford, Manchester, Chesterfield, and the lords Cholmondeley and Grey de Ruthyn. These were tidings of a reaction as determined as James's headstrong career had been; but the worst had not yet overtaken him. On the evening of November 24th he had retreated towards London as far as Andover. Prince George of Denmark, the husband of the princess Anne, and the duke of Ormond, supped with him. Prince George was a remarkably stupid personage, whose constant reply to any news was, "Est-il possible?" When the intelligence of one desertion after another came he had exclaimed, “Est-il possible?" But the moment supper was over and the king gone to bed, prince George and Ormond mounted and rode off to the enemy too. When James the next morning was informed of this mortifying news, he coolly replied, “What, is Est-il-possible gone too? were he not my son-in-law, a single trooper would have been a greater loss." With the prince and Ormond had also fled lord Drumlanrig, the eldest son of the duke of Queensberry, Mr. Boyle, Sir George Hewit, and other persons of distinction. The blow was severe; and though James at the first moment, being stunned, as it were, seemed to bear it with indifference, he pursued his way to London in a state of intense exasperation. There the first news that met him was the flight of his own daughter, Anne. Anne was bound up, soul and body, with the Churchills, and it had no doubt been for some time settled amongst them that they should all get away to the prince her brother-in-law. Her correspondence with her sister, the princess of Orange, pretty well indicated this conclusion. Accordingly, on hearing that the Churchills and her own husband had deserted, and the king was coming back to London, says lady Churchill in her own account, "This put the princess into a great fright. She sent for me, told me her distress, and declared that, rather than see her father, she would out at window. This was her expression. A little before a note had been left with me to inform me where I might find the bishop of London-who in that critical time absconded-if her royal highness should have occasion for a friend. The princess, in her alarm, immediately sent me to the bishop. I acquainted him with her resolution to leave |