bers of the Church of England, had shown themselves ready to sacrifice the interests of the Church of England in order to obtain his favor. That he was taken by surprise is true. But he had twelve hours to make his arrangements. He found no difficulty in crowding Saint James's Palace with bigots and sycophants on whose word the nation placed no reliance. It would have been quite as easy to procure the attendance of some eminent persons whose attachment to the princesses and to the established religion was unquestionable.

At a later period, when he had paid dearly for his foolhardy contempt of public opinion, it was the fashion at St. Germain's to excuse him by throwing the blame on others. Some Jacobites charged Anne with having purposely kept out of the way; nay, they were not ashamed to say that Sancroft had artfully provoked the king to send him to the Tower, in order that the evidence which was to confound the calumnies of the malcontents might be defective. The absurdity of these imputations is palpable. Could Anne or Sancroft possibly have foreseen that the queen's calculations would turn out to be erroneous by a whole month? Had those calculations been correct, Anne would have been back from Bath, and Sancroft would have been out of the Tower, in ample time for the birth. At all events, the maternal uncles of the king's daughters were neither at a distance nor in a prison. The same messenger who summoned the whole bevy of renegades, Dover, Peterborough, Murray, Sunderland, and Mulgrave, could just as easily have summoned Clarendon. If they were privy counselors, so was he. His house was in Jermyn Street, not two hundred yards from the chamber of the queen; yet he was left to learn at St. James's Church, from the agitation and whispers of the congregation, that his niece had ceased to be heiress presumptive of the crown.† Was it a disqualification that he was the near kinsman of the Princesses of Orange and Denmark? * Clarke's Life of James the Second, ii., 159, 160.

+ Clarendon's Diary, June 10, 1688.

Or was it a disqualification that he was unalterably attached to the Church of England?

The cry of the whole nation was that an imposture had been practiced. Papists had, during some months, been predicting, from the pulpit and through the press, in prose and verse, in English and Latin, that a Prince of Wales would be given to the prayers of the Church; and they had now accomplished their own prophecy. Every witness who could not be corrupted or deceived had been studiously excluded. Anne had been tricked into visiting Bath. The primate had, on the very day preceding that which had been fixed for the villainy, been sent to prison in defiance of the rules of law and of the privileges of peerage. Not a single man or woman who had the smallest interest in detecting the fraud had been suffered to be present. The queen had been removed suddenly and at the dead of night to Saint James's Palace, because that palace, less commodious for honest purposes than Whitehall, had some rooms and passages well suited for the purpose of the Jesuits. There, amid a circle of zealots who thought nothing a crime that tended to promote the interests of their Church, and of courtiers who thought nothing a crime that tended to enrich and aggrandize themselves, a newborn child had been introduced into the royal bed, and then handed round in triumph as heir of the three kingdoms. Heated by such suspicions-suspicions unjust, it is true, but not altogether unnatural-the people thronged more eagerly than ever to pay their homage to the saintly victims of the tyrant who, having long foully injured his people, had now filled up the measure of his iniquity by more foully injuring his children.*

The Prince of Orange, not himself suspecting foul play, and not aware of the state of public feeling in England,

* Johnstone gives in a very few words an excellent summary of the case against the king. "The generality of people conclude all is a trick; because they say the reckoning is changed, the princess sent away, none of the Clarendon family nor the Dutch embassador sent for, the suddenness of the thing the sermons, the confidence of the priests, the hurry."-June 13, 1688.

ordered prayers to be said under his own roof for his little brother-in-law, and sent Zulestein to London with a formal message of congratulation. Zulestein, to his amazement, found all the people whom he met open mouthed about the infamous fraud just committed by the Jesuits, and saw every hour some fresh pasquinade on the pregnancy and the delivery. He soon wrote to the Hague that not one person in ten believed the child to have been born of the queen.*

The demeanor of the seven prelates meanwhile strengthened the interest which their situation excited. On the evening of the Black Friday, as it was called, on which they were committed, they reached their prison just at the hour of divine service. They instantly hastened to the chapel. It chanced that in the second lesson were these words: "In all things approving ourselves as the ministers of God, in much patience, in afflictions, in distresses, in stripes, in imprisonments." All zealous Churchmen were delighted by this coincidence, and remembered how much comfort a similar coincidence had given, near forty years before, to Charles the First at the time of his death.

On the evening of the next day, Saturday, the ninth, a letter came from Sunderland enjoining the chaplain of the Tower to read the declaration during divine service on the following morning. As the time fixed by the order in council for the reading in London had long expired, this proceeding of the government could be considered only as a personal insult of the meanest and most childish kind to the venerable prisoners. The chaplain refused to comply; he was dismissed from his situation, and the chapel was shut up.†

The bishops edified all who approached them by the firmness and cheerfulness with which they endured confinement, by the modesty and meekness with which they received the applauses and blessings of the whole nation,

Ronquillo adds, that what Zulestein said of the state

of public opinion was strictly true.

+ Citters, June 12, 1688; Luttrell's Diary, June 18.

and by the loyal attachment which they professed for the tyrant who sought their destruction. They remained only a week in custody. On Friday, the fifteenth of June, the first day of term, they were brought before the King's Bench. An immense throng awaited their coming. From the landing-place to the Court of Requests they passed through a lane of spectators who blessed and applauded them. "Friends," said the prisoners, as they passed, "honor the king; and remember us in your prayers." These humble and pious expressions moved the hearers even to tears. When at length the procession had made its way through the crowd into the presence of the judges, the attorney general exhibited the information which he had been commanded to prepare, and moved that the defendants might be ordered to plead. The counsel on the other side objected that the bishops had been unlawfully committed, and were therefore not regularly before the court. The question whether a peer could be required to enter into recognizances on a charge of libel was argued at great length, and decided by a majority of the judges in favor of the crown. The prisoners then pleaded Not Guilty. That day fortnight, the twenty-ninth of June, was fixed for their trial. In the mean time, they were allowed to be at large on their own recognizances. The crown lawyers acted prudently in not requiring sureties, for Halifax had arranged that twenty-one temporal peers of the highest consideration should be ready to put in bail, three for each defendant; and such a manifestation of the feeling of the nobility would have been no slight blow to the government. It was also known that one of the most opulent Dissenters of the city had begged that he might have the honor of giving security for Ken.

The bishops were now permitted to depart to their own homes. The common people, who did not understand the nature of the legal proceedings which had taken place in the King's Bench, and who saw that their favorites had been brought to Westminster Hall in custody and were suffered to go away in freedom, imagined that the good

cause was prospering. Loud acclamations were raised. The steeples of the churches sent forth joyous peals. Sprat was amazed to hear the bells of his own abbey ringing merrily. He promptly silenced them; but his interference caused much angry muttering. The bishops found it difficult to escape from the importunate crowd of their wellwishers. Lloyd was detained in Palace Yard by admirers who struggled to touch his hands and to kiss the skirt of his robe, till Clarendon, with some difficulty, rescued him and conveyed him home by a by-path. Cartwright, it is said, was so unwise as to mingle with the crowd. Some person who saw his episcopal habit asked and received his blessing. A by-stander cried out, "Do you know who blessed you?" "Surely," said he who had just been honored by the benediction, "it was one of the seven." "No," said the other, "it is the popish Bishop of Chester." "Popish dog," cried the enraged Protestant, "take ing back again."

your bless

Such was the concourse, and such the agitation, that the Dutch embassador was surprised to see the day close without an insurrection. The king had been by no means at ease. In order that he might be ready to suppress any disturbance, he had passed the morning in reviewing sev eral battalions of infantry in Hyde Park. It is, however, by no means certain that his troops would have stood by him if he had needed their services. When Sancroft reached Lambeth in the afternoon, he found the grenadier guards, who were quartered in that suburb, assembled before the gate of his palace. They formed in two lines on his right and left, and asked his benediction as he went through them. He with difficulty prevented them from lighting a bonfire in honor of his return to his dwelling. There were, however, many bonfires that evening in the city. Two Roman Catholics, who were so indiscreet as to beat some boys for joining in these rejoicings, were seized by the mob, stripped naked, and ignominiously branded.*

* For the events of this day, see the State Trials; Clarendon's Diary; Luttrell's Diary; Citters, June ; Johnstone, June 18; Revolution Politics.