Clarendon made his way to Berwick—the house used by the Prince at the time was in the possession of one of Clarendon’s relatives—there he had a private conference with His Highness, and was received “very obligingly.” The Earl wished that the opposing parties might come to terms, and talked with Burnet, who, walking up and down the room, in wonderful warmth exclaimed, “What treaty? How can there be a treaty? The sword is drawn. There is a supposititious child, which must be inquired into.” Clarendon was puzzled at Burnet’s conduct, and asked him why the day before, at prayers in the Cathedral, he had behaved so as to make the congregation stare; for when the usual collect for the Sovereign was being repeated, he sat down in his stall and made an “ugly noise.” Burnet replied, he could not join in the usual supplications for James as King of England.[63]
THE CRISIS.
As William rode on horseback from Berwick to Salisbury, the people flocked to see and bless him. He acknowledged their affectionate salutations by taking off his hat, saying, “Thank you, good people. I am come to secure the Protestant religion, and to free you from Popery.”
William’s popularity advanced with hasty strides from the south to the north and east of England, obtaining marked manifestation in certain towns and cities, connected with other and somewhat similar struggles. The nobility and gentry of the northern midland counties met at Derby—where, a little more than half a century later, the Pretender Charles Edward lodged for a few days, flushed with the hope of recovering his grandfather’s crown—and there they declared it to be their duty to endeavour the healing of present distractions, as they apprehended the consequences which might arise from the landing of an army. They wished there should be the calling of a free Parliament, to which the Prince of Orange was willing to submit his pretensions. At Nottingham, the refuge of the Princess Anne—where Charles I. had raised his standard, and Colonel Hutchinson had held the Castle—many of the upper and middle classes assembled, to enumerate grievances under which the nation groaned. The laws, as they said, had become a nose of wax, and being sensible of the influence of Jesuitical councils in the Government, they avowed their determination not to deliver posterity over to Rome and slavery, but to join with the Prince in recovering their almost ruined laws, liberties, and religion.
1688.
At York—so closely connected with the Civil Wars—Sir Henry Gooderick, in the Common Hall, addressed a hundred gentlemen to this effect, “that there having been great endeavours made by the Government of late years to bring Popery into the kingdom, and by many devices to set at nought the laws of the land,” there could be no proper redress of grievances “but by a free Parliament; that now was the only time to prefer a petition of the sort; and that they could not imitate a better pattern than had been set before them by several Lords, spiritual and temporal.” Alarmed by flying reports of what the Papists were about to do, the Earl of Danby, Lord Horton, Lord Willoughby, and others, scoured the streets of the city at the head of a troop, shouting, “A free Parliament, the Protestant religion, and no Popery!”[64] At Newcastle and at Hull—ground covered by Commonwealth memories—demonstrations occurred in favour of a free Parliament. In the fine old Market-place of Norwich, abounding in Puritan associations, the Duke of Norfolk addressed the Mayor and citizens, and talked of securing law, liberty, and the Protestant religion. Just afterwards, the townsmen of King’s Lynn—where one meets with the shades of Oliver Cromwell and the Earl of Manchester—responded to the Duke in a strain like his own. Berwick-on-Tweed followed in the wake of other towns. Even the heads of Houses at Oxford sent to the Prince an assurance of support, and an invitation to visit them, telling him that their plate, if needful, should be at his service.[65] In short, a flame of enthusiasm in favour of the Dutch deliverer spread from one end of the land to the other.[66]
THE CRISIS.
1688.
I have shown that treachery weakened the cause of James; I am sorry to say, that falsehood was employed in support of William. Two genuine Declarations were published in his cause; a third appeared, of the most violent description. It stated as his resolution, that all Papists found with arms on their persons or in their houses, should be treated as freebooters and banditti, be incapable of quarter, and be delivered up to the discretion of his soldiers; all persons assisting them were to be looked upon as partakers of their crimes. It stated, also, that numerous Papists had of late resorted to London and Westminster; that there was reason to suspect they did so, not for their own security, but in order to make a desperate attempt upon those places; and that French troops, procured by the interest and power of the Jesuits, would, if possible, land in England, in “pursuance of the engagements which, at the instigation of that pestilent Society, His most Christian Majesty, with one of his neighbouring Princes of the same communion, had entered into, for the utter extirpation of the Protestant religion out of Europe.”[67] Burnet, who was in the secrets of the Prince’s Court, observes, “No doubt was made that it was truly the Prince’s Declaration; but he knew nothing of it; and it was never known who was the author of so bold a thing. No person ever claimed the merit of it, for though it had an amazing effect, yet, it seems he that contrived it apprehended that the Prince would not be well pleased with the author of such an imposture in his name. The King was under such a consternation, that he neither knew what to resolve on, nor whom to trust.”[68] It has been said[69] that the Declaration was not made public until after the Prince had left Sherborne. William did not issue any counter Declaration nor publish any repudiation of the document, but left it to produce its effect. Such a want of straightforwardness contradicts his general character, but most likely those about him, seeing how effective the Declaration proved, prevented its being cancelled; still, if the main blame rests with them, their master remains responsible for having at least winked at the maxim of doing evil that good might come. Years afterwards one Speke—who had been in the Prince’s army, and who was goaded by revenge for his brother’s death under Judge Jeffreys—avowed himself the fabricator of the infamous device, and said that he gave it to the Prince with his own hand at Sherborne Castle; that His Highness seemed somewhat surprised at first, but that when he had considered it, he and those about him were not displeased. No credit can be given to a man who played the part which Speke confessed he had done. Part of his statement is improbable, and is contradicted by the relation of circumstances given by Bishop Burnet. At all events, the effect of the forgery was terrible, and soon afterwards this same man contrived another and still more diabolical scheme. In the meanwhile, attempts at negotiation went on. James had appointed Commissioners to meet William, but things now reached a point rendering conferences utterly idle. The Palace was thrown into confusion by the escape of the Royal family, and the consternation of the Court is reflected in a much damaged letter, brought under the notice of historical students by the Historical MSS. Commission. “Your lordship,” says Turner, Bishop of Ely, under date December 11, 1688, to Trelawny, Bishop of Bristol, both numbered amongst the seven, “has heard by [this time that on] Sunday night, the Queen and Prince of Wales [left] about 2 in the morning. They went [in a boat with] oars to Lambeth, and so, without guards, in How are the mighty fallen. [My] Lord, these are sad and strange revolutions for our general [and grie]vous national sins, which God Almighty forgive and relieve us. This minute I receive an advice from the Earl of Rochester that the King is secretly withdrawn this morning. God preserve him and direct us.”
THE CRISIS.