Sunderland secretary of state; Halifax president of the council. This nobleman had stood in opposition to James during the last years of his brother's reign; and when he attempted, on the accession, to make some apology for his late measures, the king told him, that he would forget everything past, except his behaviour during the bill of exclusion. On other occasions, however, James appeared not of so forgiving a temper. When the principal exclusionists came to pay their respects to the new sovereign, they either were not admitted, or were received very coldly, sometimes even with frowns. This conduct might suit the character, which the king so much affected, of sincerity: but by showing, that a king of England could resent the quarrels of a duke of York, he gave his people no high idea either of his lenity or magnanimity.

On all occasions, the king was open in declaring that men must now look for a more active and more vigilant government, and that he would retain no ministers, who did not practise an unreserved obedience to his commands. We are not indeed to look for the springs of his administration so much in his council and chief officers of state, as in his own temper, and in the character of those persons with whom he secretly consulted. The queen had great influence over him; a woman of spirit, whose conduct had been popular till she arrived at that high dignity. She was much governed by the priests, especially the jesuits; and as these were also the king's favourites, all public measures were taken originally from the suggestions of these men, and bore evident marks of their ignorance in government, and of the violence of their religious zeal.

The king however had another attachment, seemingly not very consistent with this devoted regard to his queen and to his priests: it was to Mrs. Sedley, whom he soon after created countess of Dorchester, and who expected to govern him with the same authority which the duchess of Portsmouth had possessed during the former reign. But James, who had entertained the ambition of converting his people, was told, that the regularity of his life ought to correspond to the sanctity of his intentions; and he was prevailed with to remove Mrs. Sedley from court: a resolution in which he had not the courage to persevere. Good agreement between the mistress and the confessor of princes is not commonly a difficult matter to compass: but in the present case these two potent engines of command were found very incompatible. Mrs. Sedley, who possessed all the wit and ingenuity of her father, sir Charles, made the priests and their counsels the perpetual objects of her raillery; and it is not to be doubted, but they, on their part, redoubled their exhortations with their penitent to break off so criminal an attach

ment.

How little inclination soever the king, as well as his queen and priests, might bear to an English parliament, it was absolutely necessary, at the beginning of the reign, to summon that assembly. The low condition, to which the whigs or country party had fallen during the last years of Charles's reign, the odium under which they laboured on account of the Ryehouse conspiracy; these causes made that party meet with little success in the elections. The general resignation too of the charters had made the corporations extremely dependent; and the recommendations of the court, though little assisted, at that time, by pecuniary influence, were become very prevalent. The new house of commons, therefore, consisted almost entirely of zealous tories and churchmen; and were of consequence strongly biassed, by their affections, in favour of the measures of the crown.

The discourse which the king made on the parliament (19th May) was more fitted to work on their fears than their affections. He repeated indeed, and with great solemnity, the promise which he had made before the privy-council, of governing according to the laws, and of preserving the established religion. But

at the same time he told them, that he positively expected they would settle his revenue, and during life too, as in the time of his brother. "I might use many arguments," said he, "to enforce this demand; the benefit of trade, the support of the navy, the necessities of the crown, and the well-being of the government itself, which I must not suffer to be precarious : but I am confident, that your own consideration, and your sense of what is just and reasonable, will suggest to you whatever on this occasion might be enlarged upon. There is indeed one popular argument,” added he, "which may be urged against compliance with my demand: men may think, that by feeding me from time to time with such supplies as they think convenient, they will better secure frequent meetings of parliament: but as this is the first time I speak to you from the throne, I must plainly tell you, that such an expedient would be very improper to employ with me, and that the best way to engage me to meet you often, is always to use me well."

It was easy to interpret this language of the king's. He plainly intimated, that he had resources in his prerogative for supporting the government, independent of their supplies; and that so long as they complied with his demands, he would have recourse to them; but that any ill usage on their part would set him free from those measures of government, which he seemed to regard more as voluntary than as necessary. It must be confessed that no parliament in England was ever placed in a more critical situation, nor where more forcible arguments could be urged, either for their opposition to the court, or their compliance with it.

REASONS FOR AND AGAINST A REVENUE DURING LIFE.

It was said on the one hand, that jealousy of royal power was the very basis of the English constitution, and the principle to which the nation was beholden for all that liberty which they enjoy above the subjects of other monarchies. That this jealousy, though, at different periods, it may be more or less intense, can never safely be laid asleep, even under the best and wisest princes. That the character of the present sovereign afforded cause for the highest vigilance, by reason of the arbitrary principles which he had imbibed; and still more, by reason of his religious zeal, which it is impossible for him ever to gratify, without assuming more authority than the constitution allows him. That power is to be watched in its very first encroachments; nor is anything ever gained by timidity and submission. That every concession adds new force to usurpation; and at the same time, by discovering the dastardly dispositions of the people, inspires it with new courage and enterprise. That as arms were intrusted altogether in the hands of the prince, no check remained upon him but the dependent condition of his revenue; a security therefore which it would be the most egregious folly to abandon. That all the other barriers which, of late years, had been erected against arbitrary power, would be found, without this capital article, to be rather pernicious and destructive. That new limitations in the constitution stimulated the monarch's inclination to surmount the laws, and required frequent meetings of parliament, in order to repair all the breaches, which either time or violence may have made upon that complicated fabric. recent experience, during the reign of the late king, a prince who wanted neither prudence nor moderation, had sufficiently proved the solidity of all these maxims. That his parliament, having rashly fixed his revenue for life, and at the same time repealed the triennial bill, found that they themselves were no longer of importance, and that liberty, not protected by national assemblies, was exposed to every outrage and violation. And that the more openly the king made an unrea sonable demand, the more obstinately ought it to be

That

On the other hand it was urged, that the rule of watching the very first encroachments of power could only have place, where the opposition to it could be regular, peaceful, and legal. That though the refusal of the king's present demand might seem of this nature, yet in realty it involved consequences which led much further than at first sight might be apprehended. That the king in his speech had intimated, that he had resources in his prerogative, which, in case of opposition from parliament, he thought himself fully entitled to employ. That if the parliament openly discovered an intention of reducing him to dependence, matters must presently be brought to a crisis, at a time the most favourable to his cause, which his most sanguine wishes could ever have promised him. That if we cast our eyes abroad, to the state of affairs on the continent, and to the situation of Scotland and Ireland; or, what is of more importance, if we consider the disposition of men's minds at home, every circumstance would be found adverse to the cause of liberty. That the country party, during the late reign, by their violent, and in many respects unjustifiable, measures in parliament, by their desperate attempts out of parliament, had exposed their principles to general hatred, and had excited extreme jealousy in all the royalists and zealous churchmen, who now formed the bulk of the nation. That it would not be acceptable to that party to see this king worse treated than his brother, in point of revenue, or any attempts made to keep the crown in dependence. That they thought parliaments as liable to abuse as courts, and desired not to see things in a situation, where the king could not, if he found it necessary, either prorogue or dissolve those assemblies. That if the present parliament, by making great concessions, could gain the king's confidence, and engage him to observe the promises now given them, everything would by gentle methods succeed to their wishes. That if, on the contrary, after such instances of compliance, he formed any designs on the liberty and religion of the nation, he would, in the eyes of all mankind, render himself altogether inexcusable, and the whole people would join in opposition to him. That resistance could scarcely be attempted twice; and there was therefore the greater necessity for waiting till time and incidents had fully prepared the nation for it. That the king's prejudices in favour of popery, though in the main pernicious, were yet so far fortunate, that they rendered the connexion inseparable between the national religion and the national liberty. And that if any illegal attempts were afterwards made, the church, which was at present the chief support of the crown, would surely catch the alarm, and would soon dispose the people to an effectual resistance.

These last reasons, enforced by the prejudices of party, prevailed in parliament; and the commons, besides giving thanks for the king's speech, voted unanimously, that they would settle on his present majesty during life, all the revenue enjoyed by the late king, at the time of his demise. That they might not detract from this generosity by any symptoms of distrust, they also voted unanimously, that the house entirely relied on his majesty's royal word and repeated declarations to support the religion of the church of England; but they added, that that religion was dearer to them than their lives. The speaker, in presenting the revenue bill, took care to inform the king of their vote with regard to religion; but could not, by so signal a proof of confidence, extort from him one word in favour of that religion on which, he told his majesty, they set so high a value. Notwithstanding the grounds of suspicion which this silence afforded, the house continued in the same liberal disposition. The king having demanded a further supply for the navy and other purposes, they revived those duties on wines and vinegar, which had once been enjoyed by the late King; and they added some impositions on tobacco and sugar.

The house of lords were in a humour no less compliant. They even went some lengths towards breaking in pieces all the remains of the popish plot; that once formidable engine of bigotry and faction.

OATES CONVICTED OF PERJURY.

A little before the meeting of parliament, Outes had been tried for perjury on two indictmets. One for deposing that he was present at a consult of jesuits in London the twenty-fourth of April, 1679: another for deposing that father Ireland was in London between the eighth and twelfth of August, and in the begin. ning of September in the same year. Never criminal was convicted on fuller and more undoubted evidence. Two and twenty persons, who had been students at Saint Omers, most of them men of credit and family, gave evidence, that Oates had entered into that seminary about Christmas in the year 1678, and had never been absent one night till the month of July follow. ing. Forty-seven witnesses, persons also of untainted character, deposed that father Ireland, on the 3rd of August, 1679, had gone to Staffordshire, where he resided till the middle of September; and, what some years before would have been regarded as a very mate. rial circumstance, nine of these witnesses were protestants, of the church of England. Oates's sentence was, to be fined a thousand marks on each indictment, to be whipped on two different days from Aldgate to Newgate, and from Newgate to Tyburn, to be imprisoned during life, and to be pilloried five times every year. The impudence of the man supported itself under the conviction, and his courage under the punishment. He made solemn appeals to Heaven, and protestations of the veracity of his testimony: though the whipping was so cruel, that it was evidently the intention of the court to put him to death by that punishment, he was enabled, by the care of his friends, to recover: and he lived to king William's reign; when a pension of four hundred pounds a year was settled on him. A considerable number still adhered to him in his distresses, and regarded him as the martyr of the protestant cause. The populace were affected with the sight of a punishment, more severe than is commonly inflicted in England. And the sentence of perpetual imprisonment was deemed illegal.

The conviction of Oates's perjury was taken notice of by the house of peers. Besides freeing the popish lords, Powis, Arundel, Bellasis, and Tyrone, together with Danby, from the former impeachment by the commons, they went so far as to vote a reversal of Stafford's attainder, on account of the falsehood of that evidence on which he had been condemned. This bill fixed so deep a reproach on the former proceedings of the exclusionists, that it met with great opposition among the lords; and it was at last, after one reading, dropped by the commons. Though the reparation of injustice be the second honour which a nation can attain; the present emergence seemed very improper for granting so full a justification to the catholics, and throwing so foul a stain on the protestants.

MONMOUTH'S INVASION.

The course of parliamentary proceedings was interrupted by the news of Monmouth's arrival in the west with three ships from Holland. No sooner was this intelligence conveyed to the parliament, than they voted that they would adhere to his majesty with their lives and fortunes. They passed a bill of attainder against Monmouth; and they granted a supply of four hundred thousand pounds for suppressing his rebellion. Having thus strengthened the hands of the king, they adjourned themselves.

Monmouth, when ordered to depart the kingdom, during the late reign, had retired to Holland; and as

Thus perished, in the thirty-sixth year of his age, a nobleman, who, in less turbulent times, was well qualified to be an ornament of the court, even to be serviceable to his country. The favour of his prince, the caresses of faction, and the allurements of popularity, seduced him into enterprises which exceeded his capacity. The good will of the people still followed him in every fortune. Even after his execution, their fond credulity flattered them with hopes of seeing him once more at their head. They believed that the person executed was not Monmouth, but one who, having the fortune to resemble him nearly, was willing to give this proof of his extreme attachment, and to suffer death in his stead.

This victory, obtained by the king in the commencement of his reign, would naturally, had it been managed with prudence, have tended much to increase | his power and authority. But by reason of the cruelty with which it was prosecuted, and of the temerity with which it afterwards inspired him, it was a principal cause of his sudden ruin and downfal.

Such arbitrary principles had the court instilled into all its servants, that Feversham, immediately after the victory, hanged above twenty prisoners; and was proceeding in his executions, when the bishop of Bath and Wells warned him that these unhappy men were now by law entitled to a trial, and that their execution would be deemed a real murder. This remonstrance, however, did not stop the savage nature of colonel Kirke, a soldier of fortune, who had long served at Tangiers, and had contracted, from his intercourse with the Moors, an inhumanity less known in European and in free countries. At his first entry into Bridgewater, he hanged nineteen prisoners, without the least inquiry into the merits of their cause. As if to make sport with death, he ordered a certain number to be executed, while he and his company should drink the king's health, or the queen's, or that of chief-justice Jeffries. Observing their feet to quiver in the agonies of death, he cried that he would give them music to their dancing, and he immediately commanded the drums to beat and the trumpets to sound. By way of experiment, he ordered one man to be hung up three times, questioning him at each interval, whether he repented of his crime: but the man obstinately asserting, that notwithstanding the past, he still would willingly engage in the same cause, Kirke ordered him to be hung in chains. One story, commonly told of him, is memorable for the treachery, as well as barbarity, which attended it.

A young maid pleaded for the life of her brother, and flung herself at Kirke's feet, armed with all the charms which beauty and innocence, bathed in tears, could bestow upon her. The tyrant was inflamed with desire, not softened into love or clemency. He promised to grant her request, provided that she, in her turn, would be equally compliant to him. The maid yielded to the conditions: but, after she had passed the night with him, the wanton savage, next morning, showed her from the window, her brother, the darling object for whom she had sacrificed her virtue, hanging on a gibbet, which he had secretly ordered to be there erected for the execution. Rage and despair and indignation took possession of her mind, and deprived her for ever of her senses.

All the inhabitants of that country, innocent as well as guilty, were exposed to the ravages of this barba

The violent Jeffries succeeded after some interval; and showed the people, that the rigours of law might equal, if not exceed, the ravages of military tyranny. This man, who wantoned in cruelty, had already given a specimen of his character in many trials where be presided; and he now set out with a savage joy, as to a full harvest of death and destruction. He began at Dorchester; and thirty rebels being arraigned, he exhorted them, but in vain, to save him, by their free confessions, the trouble of trying them: and when twenty-nine were found guilty, he ordered them, as an additional punishment of their disobedience, to be led to immediate execution. Most of the other prisoners, terrified with this example, pleaded guilty; and no less than two hundred and ninety-two received sentence at Dorchester. Of these eighty were executed. Exeter was the next stage of his cruelty; two hundred and forty-three were there tried, of whom a great number were condemned and executed. He also opened his commission at Taunton and Wells; and everywhere carried consternation along with him. The juries were so struck with his menaces, that they gave their ver. diet with precipitation; and many innocent persons, it is said, were involved with the guilty. And on the whole, besides those who were butchered by the military commanders, two hundred and fifty-one are com puted to have fallen by the hand of justice. The whole country was strewed with the heads and limbs of traitors. Every village almost beheld the dead carcase of a wretched inhabitant. And all the rigours of justice, unabated by any appearance of clemency, were fully displayed to the people by the inhuman Jeffries.

Of all the executions during this dismal period, the most remarkable were those of Mrs. Gaunt and lady Lisle, who had been accused of harbouring traitors. Mrs. Gaunt was an anabaptist, noted for her beneficence, which she extended to persons of all professions and persuasions. One of the rebels, knowing her hu mane disposition, had recourse to her in his distress, and was concealed by her. Hearing of the proclamation, which offered an indemnity and rewards to such as discovered criminals, he betrayed his benefactress, and bore evidence against her. He received a pardon as a recompense for his treachery; she was burned alive for her charity.

Lady Lisle was widow of one of the regicides who had enjoyed great favour and authority under Cromwell, and who having fled, after the Restoration, to Lauzanne in Switzerland, was there assassinated by three Irish ruffians, who hoped to make their fortune by this piece of service. His widow was now prosecuted for harbouring two rebels the day after the battle of Sedgemoor; and Jeffries pushed on the trial with an unrelenting violence. In vain did the aged prisoner plead, that these criminals had been put into no proclamation; had been convicted by no verdict; nor could any man be denominated a traitor, till the sen tence of some legal court was passed upon him that it appeared not by any proof, that she was so much as acquainted with the guilt of the persons, or had heard of their joining the rebellion of Monmouth: that though she might be obnoxious on account of her family, it was well known, that her heart was ever loyal, and that no person in England had shed more tears for that tragical event, in which her husband had unfortunately borne too great a share: and that the same principles, which she herself had ever embraced, she had carefully instilled into her son, and had, at that very time, sent him to fight against those rebels, whom she was now accused of harbouring. Though these arguments did not move Jeffries, they had influence on

the jury. Twice they seemed inclined to bring in a favourable verdict: they were as often sent back with menaces and reproaches: and at last were constrained to give sentence against the prisoner. Notwithstanding all applications for pardon, the cruel sentence was executed. The king said, that he had given Jeffries a promise not to pardon her: an excuse which could serve only to aggravate the blame against himself.

It might have been hoped, that, by all these bloody executions, a rebellion, so precipitate, so ill supported, and of such short duration, would have been sufficiently expiated: but nothing could satiate the spirit of rigour which possessed the administration. Even those multitudes, who received pardon, were obliged to atone for their guilt by fines, which reduced them to beggary; or where their former poverty made them incapable of paying, they were condemned to cruel whippings or severe imprisonments. Nor could the innocent escape the hands, no less rapacious than cruel, of the chief-justice. Prideaux, a gentleman of Devon shire, being thrown into prison, and dreading the severe and arbitrary spirit, which at that time met with no control, was obliged to buy his liberty of Jeffries at the price of fifteen thousand pounds; though he could never so much as learn the crime of which he was accused.

Goodenough, the seditious under-sheriff of London, who had been engaged in the most bloody and desperate part of the Rye-house conspiracy, was taken prisoner after the battle of Sedgemoor, and resolved to save his own life by an accusation of Cornish, the sheriff, whom he knew to be extremely obnoxious to the court. Colonel Rumsey joined him in the accusation; and the prosecution was so hastened, that the prisoner was tried, condemned, and executed in the space of a week. The perjury of the witnesses appeared immediately after; and the king seemed to regret the execution of Cornish. He granted his estate to his family, and condemned the witnesses to perpetual imprisonment.

The injustice of this sentence against Cornish, was not wanted to disgust the nation with the court: the continued rigour of the other executions had already impressed an universal hatred against the ministers of justice, attended with compassion for the unhappy sufferers, who, as they had been seduced into this trime, by mistaken principles, bore their punishment with the spirit and zeal of martys. The people might have been willing on this occasion to distinguish between the king and his ministers: but care was taken to prove, that the latter had done nothing but what was agreeable to their master. Jeffries, on his return, was immediately, for those eminent services, created a peer; and was soon after vested with the dignity of chancellor. It is pretended, however, with some appearance of authority, that the king was displeased with these cruelties, and put a stop to them by orders, as soon as proper information of them was conveyed to him.

STATE OF AFFAIRS IN SCOTLAND. We must now take a view of the state of affairs in Scotland; where the fate of Argyle had been decided before that of Monmouth. Immediately after the king's accession, a parliament had been summoned at Edinburgh; and all affairs there were conducted by the duke of Queensberry, the commissioner, and the earl of Perth, chancellor. The former had resolved to make an entire surrender of the liberties of his country; but was determined still to adhere to its religion: the latter entertained no scruple of paying court even by the sacrifice of both. But no courtier, even the most prostitute, could go further than the parliament itself towards a resignation of their liberties. In a vote, which they called an offer of duty, after adopting the fabulous history of a hundred and eleven Scottish monarchs, they acknowledged that all these princes, by the primary and fundamental law of the state, had

been vested with a solid ana absolute authority. They declared their abhorrence of all principles and positions derogatory to the king's sacred, supreme, sovereign, absolute power, of which none, they said, whether single persons or collective bodies, can participate, but in dependence on him, and by commission from him. They promised, that the whole nation, between sixteen and sixty, shall be in readiness for his majesty's service, where and as oft as it shall be his royal pleasure to require them. And they annexed the whole excise, both of inland and foreign commodities, for ever to tho crown.

All the other acts of this assembly savoured of the same spirit. They declared it treason for any person to refuse the test, if tendered by the council. To defend the obligation of the covenant, subjected a person to the same penalty. To be present at any conventiele, was made punishable with death and confiscation of moveables. Even such as refused to give testimony, either in cases of treason or nonconformity, were declared equally punishable as if guilty of those very crimes-an excellent prelude to all the rigours of an inquisition. It must be confessed, that nothing could equal the abject servility of the Scottish nation during this period, but the arbitrary severity of the adminis

tration.

ARGYLE'S INVASION.

It was in vain that Argyle summoned a people, so lost to all sense of liberty, so degraded by repeated indignities, to rise in vindication of their violated laws and privileges. Even those who declared for him, were, for the greater part, his own vassals; men who, if possible, were still more sunk in slavery than the rest of the nation. He arrived, after a prosperous voyage, in Argyleshire, attended by some fugitives from Holland; among the rest, by sir Patrick Hume, a man of mild dispositions, who had been driven to this extremity by a continued train of oppression. The privy-council was beforehand apprized of Argyle's intentions. The whole militia of the kingdom, to the number of twenty-two thousand men, were already in arms; and a third part of them, with the regular forces, were on their march to oppose him. All the considerable gentry of his clan were thrown into prison. And two ships of war were on the coast to watch his motions. Under all these discouragements he yet made a shift, partly from terror, partly from affection, to collect and arm a body of about two thousand five hundred men; but soon found himself surrounded on all sides with insuperable difficulties. His arms and ammunition were seized: his provisions cut off; the marquis of Athole pressed him on one side; lord Charles Murray on another; the duke of Gordon hung upon his rear; the earl of Dunbarton met him in front. His followers daily fell off from him; but Argyle, resolute to persevere, broke at last with the shattered remains of his troops into the disaffected part of the low countries, which he had endeavoured to allure to him by declarations for the covenant. No one showed either courage or inclination to join him; and his small and still decreasing army, after wandering about for a little time, was at last defeated and dissipated without an enemy. Argyle himself was seized and carried to Edinburgh; where, after enduring many indignities with a gallant spirit, he was publicly executed. He suffered on the former unjust sentence which had been passed upon him. The rest of his followers either escaped or were punished by transportation: Rumbold and Ayloffe, two Englishmen, who had attended Argyle on this expedition, were executed.

A PARLIAMENT. November 9. The king was so elated with this continued tide of prosperity, that he began to undervalue even an Eng lish parliament, at all times formidable to his family;