Lord Halifax sprang from his seat and waved his hat. At this signal shouts of joy burst forth in the great hall; these were repeated by the thousands filling the old palace yard.
The innumerable multitude which filled the adjacent streets sent back the echo with thundering vehemence; men, usually stern and cold, gave way to tears of relief and gratitude. The boats which covered the Thames answered the cheer; the soldiers, encamped on Hounslow Heath, had just learned the news, as the king, who had that day visited them, was departing; behind him resounded the acclamations of the troops. "What means that uproar?" demanded James. "Nothing," was the answer, "the soldiers are glad that the bishops are acquitted." "Do you call that nothing?" said James. And then he repeated what he had muttered in French, upon receiving the courier sent by Sunderland: "So much the worse for them."
Notwithstanding his bigoted obstinacy and his sincere illusions, James II. felt profoundly this defeat; he nevertheless became more determined in his views and more desperate in his means. The question of the government of England became a challenge between the king and his people. In the presence of what perils and what rivals did James II. thus govern? Could he forget the constant menace which the situation of his son-in-law, the Prince of Orange, presented: the veritable chief of European Protestantism, as well as of the grand coalition which was slowly forming itself against Louis XIV.?
Great grandson of William the Silent and of Louise of Coligny, William of Nassau was born on the 4th of November, 1650, at the moment when the fortunes of his family had succumbed beneath the oppression of the republican patriciate of the Province of Holland. Educated with great care, by John De Witt, who never had absolute confidence in the destiny of his party, he took an important part both in war and politics at an early age. When but twenty-one he saved his country from ruin the most imminent. As cold in appearance as he was ardent and resolute in reality, he learned to govern himself before attempting to govern others, which he did with an ease and power that caused Pope Innocent XII. to say, "The Prince of Orange is the master of Europe." Adored by his wife, and a few friends to whom he showed in return a touching devotion, he received from both evidences of the sincerest affection; his friend Bentinck cared for him during an attack of small-pox. "Whether Bentinck slept or not while I was ill," tenderly remarked the prince, "I know not; but this I know, that through sixteen days and nights I never once called for anything but that Bentinck was instantly at my side." For a long time a misunderstanding had existed between his wife and himself. Mary was ignorant of the exclusive rights which her birth conferred upon her. Dr. Burnet, afterwards Bishop of Salisbury, after wandering upon the continent, in consequence of the distrust of King James, had taken up his residence in Holland, and there charged himself with revealing the cause of the Prince's indifference and estrangement. The princess sent immediately for her husband. "I did not know till yesterday," said Mary, "that there was such a difference between the laws of England and the laws of God. But I now promise you that you shall always bear rule, and, in return, I ask only this: that, as I shall observe the precept which enjoins wives to obey their husbands, you will that which enjoins husbands to love their wives." Henceforth there was perfect accord between the Prince of Orange and his wife, and no attempts of King James were able to gain him to his views. "You ask me," said William, "to countenance an attack on my own religion. I cannot, with a safe conscience, do it, and I will not; no, not for the crown of England, nor for the empire of the world."
"My nephew's duty," said the king, "is to strengthen my hands. But he has always taken a pleasure in crossing me." Dykvelt, the envoy of William at London, respectfully protested: "You cannot reasonably expect the aid of a Protestant prince against the Protestant religion." While defending his master, the astute Hollander silently and skillfully pursued the work for which he had been sent to England.
Since the fall of Monmouth the diverse elements of opposition had noiselessly gravitated towards the Prince of Orange, a leader absent and circumspect, prudent an sagacious, well calculated to maintain a certain accord between the antagonistic forces which were preparing for resistance in England. In his great project, for a league of all the European powers against the unbridled ambition of Louis XIV., England held a prominent place.
Firmly resolved to oppose any undertaking against the power of his father-in-law, he nevertheless possessed a mind too powerful and too sagacious not to discern the clouds which were gathering over the head of the imprudent and obstinate monarch who was walking blindly to his destruction. Already, upon the return of Dykvelt, in 1687, the ambassador brought confidential letters from all the chiefs of the opposition—Halifax, Danby, and even Lord Churchill, all powerful with Princess Anne, on account of the singular and romantic friendship that the second daughter of the king manifested towards his wife, Sarah Jennings, who was as ambitious and adroit as himself.
"The princess has commanded me," wrote the future Duke of Marlborough, "to assure her illustrious relatives that she is fully resolved, by God's help, rather to lose her life than to be guilty of apostasy. As for me, though I cannot pretend to have lived the life of a saint, still I shall be found ready, on occasion, to die the death of a martyr."
The trial of the bishops at the time of the birth of the Prince of Wales had opened the eyes of the Tories, as the latter event closed the door to their religious and political hopes. The king began the persecution of the Anglican Church at the same time that they lost the consoling prospect of a Protestant succession. For the first time since the Restoration, all parties found themselves united in the same desire, tending towards the same end. "Aut nunc, aut nunquam," said William to Dykvelt when he learnt of the acquittal of the bishops. He refused even then to listen to Edward Russell, nephew of the Duke of Bedford, a distinguished and daring sailor, ardently resolved to avenge the injuries inflicted upon his house by James II. "I am not willing," said William to Russell, "to make an attempt upon England without more distinct assurances than those you bring me to-day. I know that many who talk in high language about sacrificing their lives and fortunes for their country would hesitate when the prospect of another Bloody Circuit is brought close to them. I want only a few signatures, but they must be from powerful and eminent men, representing great interests." When the invitation of the conspirators reached the Hague, it contained, in cipher, the names of Shrewsbury, Devonshire, Danby, Lumley, and the Bishop of London, Compton. The vice-admiral, Herbert, disguised in the garb of a common sailor, carried the paper to the Prince of Orange. Soon, Henry Sidney, brother of Algernon Sidney, actively employed in the negotiations between William and the English politicians, brought him the assurance that Lord Sunderland himself, loaded with honors by King James, a convert to the Catholic faith, and victorious over all rivals, showed favorable inclinations towards the secret designs of the prince. The moment of action approached; the political plots as well as the military preparations could no longer remain concealed; the internal agitation of William, impenetrable to the vulgar eye, showed forth in all its bitterness when he wrote to Bentinck, "My sufferings, my disquiet, are dreadful. I hardly see my way. Never in my life did I so much feel the need of God's guidance. God support you and enable you to bear your part in a work on which, as far as human beings can see, the welfare of His Church depends."