In the left corner of the picture certain Quakers (17, 18, 19), whose curious friendship with James must not be forgotten, deprecate the priests’ blasphemies, whilst beyond them a crowd of Irish papists is suggested by their waving symbols and a torn flag embroidered with the sacred monogram. Behind the Quakers an oriental-looking person scans the heavens through a telescope.
The colonnade beneath which all this takes place has its pillars surmounted by owls and a demoniacal bat. The arches are inscribed with the words “Het word hier nacht,” and other inscriptions are seen on the walls. On the extreme right of the picture is reared a banner bearing what appear to be the words “In utrumque Turgam,” of which it is difficult to imagine the meaning. “In utramque Furcam,” which would be intelligible, has been suggested to me as an {208} alternative reading, but cannot, I think, be accepted. Another friend hazards “In utrumque (modum) resurgam,” which may be freely translated, “I shall be ‘dormy’ either way,” and would certainly make sense. Farther than that I cannot go with him.
So much for the first state of this elaborate copperplate which did its part in propagating the lie which went far to lose for James II. the crown of England.
After having served this purpose the plate was laid aside for nearly a quarter of a century. During this period the throne of England had been occupied by James II.’s two daughters, Mary and Anne, to the exclusion of their father, who died in exile in 1701, and of the Chevalier de St. George, whose proclamation by Louis of France as James III. of England[41] had been followed by the war of the Spanish Succession.
[41] In the Stuart Room at Madresfield Court Lord Beauchamp lately showed me a portrait of the Chevalier, labelled “James III.”!
In 1713, just twenty-four years after the plate had been engraved, the Peace of Utrecht, so vitally important as marking the beginning of {209} England’s commercial prosperity, was signed between England and France. Amongst other things it secured the Protestant Succession to the throne of England through the House of Hanover, and the dismissal of the Chevalier from France. The suspension of arms between the English and the French which preceded the signing of the treaty was seized upon as the opportunity for resuscitating the plate and adapting: it to the altered circumstances. Now did some pictorial vandal wrench and twist the figures to new and undreamt-of uses and turn the Council of War of 1688 into the Court of Peace between the Roses and Lilies of 1712! The plate now professes to be published in London, though, from the fact that the publication line runs. “A Londres chez Turner,” and from sundry misspellings, it would appear certain that the alterations on the plate were effected abroad.
In this second state the plate has been reduced at the top as far as the capitals of the pillars, and at the bottom as far as the left foot of the figure which represented Father Petre in the original. The index figures have also been changed. {210}
The explanation of the design as it now stands is contained in eighty-three lines of doggerel French verse. Taking the alterations one by one we find in the first place that the infant and cradle have been bodily removed, and (1) the “Plan de Paix” substituted. It bears the legend “Vrede tussen het Lelien en Roosen hof. Paix entre les Lis et les Roses picantes.”
The central figure (2) of the picture is now changed into an allegorical personage labelled “Pax,” who holds in her left hand a paper inscribed “Juste Protestation des Alliés,” whilst with her right she indicates the “Plan de Paix.” In this way the new artist, with some ingenuity, suggests that the spirit of peace is in sympathy with the dissatisfaction of the Allies at the negotiations which are proceeding between England and France. Her remonstrances are addressed to the figure on her left (3), which formerly represented Cardinal d’Adda, but is now labelled “Pole.” (the Abbé Melchior de Polignac), who tries to allay her forebodings. The difficulty of the Cardinal’s hat, which is of course out of place on an Abbé, is ingeniously got over by the writer of the French {211} libretto, who refers to him as a Cardinal in petto. As a matter of fact the writer proved a good prophet, for, on the conclusion of the peace, for which Polignac was largely responsible, he was, on the nomination of the Chevalier de St. George, created and appointed Cardinal Maître de la Chapelle du Roi. He was at the time of the publication of the altered plate plenipotentiary in Holland for the French. It will be noticed that the pince-nez and moustache have now been dispensed with.
The figure behind Polignac (4), which originally stood for the Dauphin, who, by the way, was but lately dead, is now labelled at the foot “Mont-or” (the Duke of Ormond’s name reversed), and at the head “Tori.” By an ingenious turn of thought, the Dauphin’s warlike action of drawing his sword is now metamorphosed into the Duke’s conciliatory action of sheathing his. This refers, of course, to the instructions which he had received from the English Government, on taking over the command of the troops in the Low Countries from the Duke of Marlborough, to do all in his power to bring about a peaceful issue. {212}