borough, and by several Peers. A deputation of four, including the Bishop of Ely, was appointed to wait upon His Highness. Riots followed. "No Popery" became the general cry. Roman Catholic chapels were stripped of furniture, in some instances the buildings were demolished. Oranges-symbolic of the Deliverer-were stuck on the ends of spikes and staves, and waved in triumph. The Embassies of Roman Catholic countries were no longer safe, and the mansion of the Spanish Minister was sacked. One act of vengeance will surprise no one who has read the story of the previous reign: Jeffreys, disguised as a sailor, fell into the hands of the mob, and narrowly escaped with life. Speke, not satisfied with the fictitious Declaration, invented terrific stories about massacres, which he said were already begun by the Irish. All kinds of atrocities were to be perpetrated by the disbanded army. De Foe repeated that, "the Irish dragoons which had fled from Reading, rallied at Twyford, and having lost not many of their number-for there were not above twelve men killed-they marched on for Maidenhead, swearing and cursing, after a most soldierly manner, that they would burn all the towns wherever they came, and cut the throats of the people." He adds, that as he himself rode to Maidenhead, he learnt at Slough that Maidenhead had been burnt, also Uxbridge and Reading. When he came to Reading, he was assured Maidenhead and Oakingham were in flames.1 Imagination invented all kinds of horrors. In consequence of Speke's letters came the Irish night, as it is called, when the citizens of London, in the

1 Tour through Great Britain, ii. 64-70. The excitement extended into Essex.

"Dec. 12. We were in a fright at Coxall Cogeshall) in the night,

and in many places, by reason of lies that were raised about some Irish soldiers that were coming, they said." Bufton's Diary. Dale's Annals of Coggeshall, 269.

utmost terror at the thought of insurgents entering their gates and murdering them in their beds, sat up till morning, drums beating to arms, women screaming in agony, lights blazing at windows, streets lined with soldiers, and the doors of houses barricaded against the fancied foe. The panic could not be confined to the Metropolis. It spread to the North; it reached Leeds. Stories were told of Papists at Nottingham burning and slaying all before them; whereupon, the people of Leeds mended their fire-arms and fixed scythes on poles, kept watch and ward, and sent for the military, who came in such strong force that they amounted to seven thousand horse and foot. This pacified the inhabitants, until in the middle of the night there rose a cry, "Horse and arms! horse and arms!-the enemy are upon us! Beeston is actually burnt, and only some escaped to bring the doleful tidings!" The bells were rung backwards, women shrieked, candles were placed in the windows, armed horsemen rode in the direction where the destroyers were expected; and men with their wives and children, leaving all behind, even money and plate upon the tables, ran for shelter to barns and haystacks. The terror was so great that nothing like it had occurred since the Cival Wars; but the immediate cause of it all turned out to be the shouting of a few drunken people. Again came the cry of "Fire! fire! Horse and arms! for God's sake!"-simply because beacons were burning over the town of Halifax. Whether deluded, or wishing to keep up an excitement for political purposes, military expresses brought pretended advice "that the Irish were broken into parties and dispersed." The whole was managed so artfully, that one who inquired into the matter could not learn who contrived it.1 Hatred

1 Thoresby's Diary, i. 188-191.

against the Roman Catholics, kindled by atrocious falsehoods, contributed to strengthen a desire for the expatriation of all priests; but other causes, according to the confession of Jesuits themselves, helped to bring on the downfall of Popery. Father Con, an active Jesuit in London, wrote a letter to the provincial of his order at Rome, telling a story, in which he ascribes a considerable share in the catastrophe, to his own party, and especially to D'Adda, the Papal Nuncio. The mischief, he said, came from their own avarice and ambition. The King had "made use of fools, knaves, and blockheads," and the favoured agent, instead of being a "moderate, discreet, and sagacious minister," was a "mere boy, a fine, showy fop, to make love to the ladies."1

James, after a short detention at Sheerness, returned to London. Lord Middleton heard of his coming, and hurriedly scrawled a note in these words: "The King will be at Rochester this night, and intends to be at Whitehall to-morrow; has ordered his coaches to meet him at his lodgings." Immediately from Westminster, under date "Dec. 15, 1688, 7 at night," the Bishop of Winchester wrote to Sancroft, "May it please your Grace and I am sure it will-His Majesty will be here to-morrow, and his coaches and guard are to meet him at Dartford. This account and orders came from my Lord Middleton."2

The discarded Monarch came, as Middleton said, and a gleam of loyalty burst out once more, amidst bells and bonfires. The poor man almost thought he should gain a new lease of power, and the frightened Papists came out of holes and corners to welcome their regal friend..

2 These notes are preserved amongst the Tanner MSS., xxviii. 285, 286..

He even ventured to assume a rather haughty tone, but in vain. The die was cast. The Dutch Ambassador informed him that the Prince would allow no Royal guards, but such as were under his own command. This amounted to a demand of surrender. William was in a position to insist upon it. Three Dutch battalions reached Whitehall at 10 o'clock on the night of December the 17th. Before the morning a message arrived from the Prince, requiring James to proceed to Ham, near Richmond. James said he should prefer Rochester. It mattered little where he went. The party in the ascendant only wished to get rid of him. He went to Rochester. There we need not follow him. It is enough to notice that several Bishops concurred in entreating him not to leave the country.1 From Rochester he stole away to France. Next we find him at St. Germains.

As the rejected King slipped down the Thames on the morning of December the 18th, his destined successor was preparing to take up his quarters at St. James's Palace. He disappointed the people, who waited in the rain to welcome him, by driving through the park. Attended by a brilliant train of courtiers and officers, he reached the gateway of the Royal residence late in the afternoon. The Princess Anne, accompanied by Lady Churchill, both covered with orange ribbons, went that night to the theatre in her father's coach.

William had ordered Burnet to secure the Papists from violence, thinking perhaps of the probable consequences of the third Declaration. He renewed the order after he had entered London; in consequence of it, passports were granted to priests wishing to leave the country; and two being imprisoned in Newgate, the busy eccle

1 Dalrymple, i. 248. Memoirs of James II., ii. 270.

siastical Minister of His Highness paid them a visit, and took upon himself to provide for their comfort. A little incident, recorded by Dr. Patrick, brings before us vividly the excitement amongst Churchmen at that critical period. "It was a very rainy night when Dr. Tenison and I being together, and discoursing in my parlour, in the little cloisters in Westminster, one knocked hard at the door. It being opened, in came the Bishop of St. Asaph; to whom I said, 'What makes your Lordship come abroad in such weather, when the rain pours down as if heaven and earth would come together?' To which he answered, 'He had been at Lambeth, and was sent by the Bishops to wait upon the Prince, and know when they might all come and pay their duty to him.' I asked if my Lord of Canterbury had agreed to it, together with the rest. He said, 'Yea, he made some difficulty at the first, but consented at the last, and ordered him to go with that message."

Whitehall, which, up to the flight of James, had been crowded by friends or time-servers, now became a desert; and St. James's, which had been a desert, now became a rendezvous for courtiers of every kind. Those who held staves, keys, or other badges of office, laid them down; and the whole herd of seekers, expectants, and claimants jostled one another on the threshold of the house where the new master of England had taken up his abode. Clarendon went to Court instantly, but could not get near His Highness for the crowd of people.

A clerical address appears to have been amongst the first, if not the very first, presented to him on his arrival. At noon, after the rainy night when the Bishop of St.

Account of the Life of Symon Patrick, Works, ix. 514. The Dean says it was the 17th, but this is incorrect, it must have been the 18th.