In the face of the danger which menaced Louis XIV. as well as King James, that vigilant monarch had not been deceived; in England he had in vain repeated his warnings; James was bound hand and foot to Sunderland. This minister exercised the same influence over Barillon: both ridiculed the idea of a descent upon England. The experienced and prudent Prince of Orange— would he renew the foolish attempt of Monmouth? Louis XIV. sent Bonrepaux to London authorized to offer a fleet to the queen; a body of French troops were ready to march into Holland; the Count of Avaux received instructions to inform the States-General that the King of France took the English Court under his protection.

So many efforts and so much forethought went for naught before the blind obstinacy of King James. He haughtily resented all overtures of Louis XIV. "My good brother," said he to the Nuncio, "has excellent qualities, but flattery and vanity have turned his head." He assured the States-General of his amicable sentiments. "My master is raised, alike by his power and by his spirit, above the position which France affects to assign to him," said the Marquis of Albeville, the ignorant and venal ambassador of King James to the Hague; "there is some difference between a king of England and an archbishop of Cologne."

Irritated and wounded, Louis XIV. sent his forces into Germany, to the assistance of that Archbishop of Cologne, so despised by James II. The arms of France were once again triumphant, but the United Provinces had nothing to fear. The States-General adhered to the policy of their stadtholder; on the 16th of October, 1688, William appeared before that solemn assembly; he came to bid farewell to the representatives of his native country. He thanked them for the kindness which they had shown him during his lonely childhood, and for the confidence which they had since reposed in him. He was now leaving them, perhaps forever. If he should fall in defence of the reformed religion and of the independence of Europe, he commended his beloved wife to their care. All wept: William alone, with his indomitable resolution, preserved a calm exterior—imperturbable and cold to all appearances. To the hereditary and characteristic device of his house, "I will maintain," he added the significant words, "The liberties of England and the Protestant religion."

The die was cast, and the contrary winds, which at one time seemed to threaten the destruction of the expedition, were unable to arrest, in his progress, the liberator. He set sail from Helvoetsluys on the 19th of October, on the same day his manifesto, which had already been forwarded to England, appeared in Holland. The wrongs of the English nation were firmly yet moderately portrayed in this paper, the work of the Grand Pensionary Fagel, translated and abridged by Burnet. Attached to England by ties of gratitude and of family, the prince did not believe it his duty to refuse the appeals of the spiritual and temporal peers, nor the prayers of the English of all ranks and classes who desired to confide to him the protection of the national liberties. He abjured all thought of conquest. His only object was the reunion of a free and legal Parliament, charged to decide all national or individual questions. As soon as England was delivered from tyranny, the soldiers of the prince would withdraw from her soil.

The thunderbolt was about to fall upon the head of King James, and at last his eyes were opened. A disquieting dispatch from Albeville preceded by a few hours the arrival of the manifesto. James feigned to be blind to the work of his son-in-law; he threw into the fire all copies that came into his hands. In the meantime he multiplied concessions: his haughty spirit bowed at last before that necessity which his stubborn will had so long refused to recognize. A solemn declaration promised the royal protection to the Anglican Church; the Bishop of London was reinstated. The king no longer insisted upon the admission of Catholics into the House of Commons. He re-established in their offices the local magistrates dismissed for their resistance to his political views; the Court of High Commission was abolished; the charter of the City of London was restored; the universities regained their privileges. A strange inquiry, destined to prove the legitimacy of the Prince of Wales, was instituted before the Council. One concession alone was obstinately refused—the dispensing power remained intact. "God has confided it to me for the good of His people," repeated the king. Everywhere the Catholic officers retained their positions in the army.

James II. was accustomed to intrigues; he had often seen them fomented and baffled. He felt, even in his palace, the breath of treason. Sunderland was suspected, and the king demanded the seals. The minister protested his devotion. "Do not, Sire; do not make me the most unhappy gentleman in your dominions, by refusing to declare that you acquit me of disloyalty," said he, in an agitated tone. Lord Preston received the seals. Sunderland immediately departed for the Hague. The Prince of Orange was no longer there. On the 4th of November he was in view of the Isle of Wight, still in fear of an attack by the royal fleet. "This is not the time to show our bravery, nor to fight if we can avoid it," said William to Herbert. An error of the pilot carried the fleet too far to the west. On the 5th, towards midday, the sun shone forth, and that "Protestant wind," so ardently prayed for by the waiting and anxious multitudes on shore, finally sprang up. The Holland fleet rode safely into the harbor of Torbay. The tempest, which had raged about the ships of William in vain, had been fatal to the movement of the fleet of James. Lord Dartmouth was unable to put to sea to intercept the progress of the invaders. As the storm abated, William of Orange landed upon English soil. When he began his march towards Exeter, he was still only surrounded by his countrymen and the English fugitives who had joined him at the Hague. No new accessions had as yet made their appearance. The nation hesitated, astonished and troubled at the aurora of deliverance. The English conspirators remained immovable.

King James had called around him the chiefs of the opposition and the bishops. Halifax and Nottingham had not taken part in the conspiracy; among the prelates, Compton alone had signed the appeal to the Prince of Orange; all refused nevertheless to declare publicly that they blamed the conduct of William. "These are affairs of state, Sire," said gently the Archbishop of Canterbury; "your Majesty knows what it has recently cost us to meddle with affairs of state." James II. had alienated from himself the Anglican Church, but recently the firmest support of the throne; her pulpits were silent, and the voices of her pastors no longer urged the people to the defense of the king. "As ministers of the Church we will assist you with our prayers," said the bishops; "as peers of the realm we will advise you in Parliament." "Go, my lords, I will urge you no further," responded James; "since you will not help me, I must trust to myself and to my own arms."